Goodbye, my loves.
Isere hadn’t understood it then, her mothers’ sacrifice. She’d pressed against her sister’s side, gold to gold, silently watching as their mothers stepped through the veil and into another realm. They hadn’t turned around, she remembers noticing.
She’d looked over at her sister, searching her face for help explaining the knot in her throat, but, finding nothing, swallowed the uncomfortable feeling. She’d stood next to her sister — together but alone — and waited, though for what, neither was quite sure.
And then, there was light.
It had burst through the trees suddenly, spreading across the sky and throughout Beqanna. Animals came out of their hiding places, basking in their new warmth; the flowers, once turning their heads to Isere, desperate for her light, now opened up to the sun. She had been born in the darkness, had only ever known the glow of her own light, and yet was oddly comforted knowing that the rest of the world could glow too.
The sisters parted ways, knowing somehow that they could always find each other again.
Isere hardly ever thinks of that day, years ago, but the winters always bring back an emptiness she’d felt for the first time then. She’s able to keep warm during the long nights and cold days, but it’s a superficial kind of warmth, not quite reaching deep into her bones like the summer does.
She’s wandering the meadow, specifically not looking for company until she comes up behind a golden winged boy — the first she’s ever seen who looked like her. He radiates warmth, dancing around to avoid the lightly falling snow, and though he’s clearly unhappy, he brings Isere joy.
“You’ll have to let me know if that works sometime,” she says with a smile as he quietly threatens the snow. “I’m Isere.”