“Eleven years?” I stammered, feeling my jaw drop.
“A very long eleven years,” Andrea replied, with a wry smile. “I found your note, you know. Might have taken me a few years, but I found it.”
“I waited as long as I could, but… you never came.” My voice wavered, trailing into a somber note.
Andrea had been a constant in my life, as important to me as anyone else I’d known. I’d shared everything with him-my struggles with Leonardo and my inability to connect with others. He always seemed to understand, offering quiet, steady support. Even as a child, Andrea had been strong, unshakeable in his beliefs. He’d been a beacon for me, and seeing that strength still in him now brought an odd sense of relief.
But now, I could see the sorrow carved into his face. Time had only deepened it. Grief never truly leaves; it lingers like a shadow, a heavy presence in every smile, every moment of joy. I still thought of my parents. I wondered what they’d think of me now, of Leonardo, of this world I’d stumbled into. I knew, deep down, that I’d carry the weight of missing them for the rest of my life.
Our grief mingled together, creating an endless pool of sadness that neither of us could fully escape. When I thought of my parents, I tried to recall their lives rather than their loss. Memories like sitting by the campfire with my dad, him laughing uncontrollably when I yelped at the snapping flames. Or my mom, her cooking mishaps, where I’d stand by with a fire extinguisher, rolling my eyes as she pretended I was overreacting. Those memories filled me with a warmth that was different from the fire magic within me-soft, gentle, enduring.
Andrea, leaning against the platform’s railing, suddenly stiffened. His shoulders tensed, his face clouded with an emotion so raw it was almost painful to witness. Just as I took a step forward, the tension melted, leaving him brighter, more at ease. His eyes, deep green, now shone as he turned to me, a wide, unrestrained smile breaking across his face. It was the grin I remembered from our childhood, a joy that was grounded and rich, as if it had grown from the earth itself.
“You…” He chuckled, almost breathless. “You’re incredible.”
“What?” I asked, caught off guard by his sudden compliment.
His voice brimmed with awe, though I sensed it was friendly admiration. I hadn’t done anything special-I’d merely been thinking of my family, wishing that Andrea could find the same peace.
“You’re using magic without even realizing it,” he said, laughing, his voice blending with the forest’s sounds. “You’re wielding Spirit, Isabella!”
His laughter seemed to stir the forest itself. A chorus of life burst around us-birds, insects, the entire landscape awakening. Andrea’s skin gleamed, bronze and radiant, as though he were a god stepping out from the earth, a living part of the natural world.
“Spirit? There’s a fifth element?” I asked, stunned.
“Spirit is in everything,” Andrea explained, his voice filled with a wonder that mirrored my own. “In every Fae, every creature, every tree. It’s not bound to any Court; it’s elusive, and only a rare few can wield it. Those who do… they’re feared.”
“What about you?” I asked, noticing how at peace he seemed. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Not at all. I know you, Isabella. You’ve changed, yes, but your kindness-that’s still the same.” He turned to gaze at the sky, his voice quiet. “The pain won’t ever truly disappear, but… you’ve closed the wound, somehow. You’ve soothed something inside me.”
“I didn’t feel anything,” I murmured, chuckling softly. “If anything, I’m restless.” The thought that I could help Andrea, even if I couldn’t seem to help myself, brought me a measure of peace. “At least some things remain constant, even when everything else has changed.”
Andrea nodded, his expression thoughtful. “There’s so much more to Spirit than you know. But those who could teach you…well, they’re hard to find.” He paused, then smiled softly. “Get some rest, Isabella. I think… tonight I might actually sleep, thanks to you.”
“You’re not in my debt,” I replied, feeling the cool night breeze. “We’re friends, Andrea. And friends look out for each other.”
As he chuckled, still gazing into the sky, I slipped away, my fingers brushing against the rough bark of the tree. Through the green-tinted window, I could see Leonardo sprawled on the bed, the silken covers a mess around him. As quietly as I could, I slid under the blankets, letting Leonardo’s scent wash over me. It was different from the earthy smell of the forest-clean, warm, and comforting.
Andrea had said Spirit was powerful, and that only a rare few could wield it. Somehow, I’d used it unknowingly, which sent a shiver down my spine. The thought was unsettling-another layer to the magic inside me that I barely understood.
Just then, Leonardo stirred, mumbling as if in the throes of a bad dream. Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers brushing his cool skin. The tension in his face eased, his breathing settled, and though I hadn’t called on Spirit, I sensed that my touch had brought him comfort. My troubled thoughts quieted as I let myself rest against him, my mind easing in his embrace.
As my eyes drifted shut, I could almost hear the sound of the sea in the distance, as soothing as a lullaby.