They'll Both Be Back

It had been an error. He should never have allowed her to go into the trees by herself. The old wood creaked beneath his fingers as he worked them around, but he stopped before it shattered. He became aware of how dry his mouth had been for the first time in a long time.

"Annelore, never mind... The child cannot be left to deal with this alone. His senses were numbed as he began to stroll around the streets, and no one paid attention to the humble, half-blind elderly guy. He would only be recognized for what he was by those who were already aware of the reality.

He had to stop when he saw her, gazing into the dark night and undoubtedly wondering what had taken her grandchildren. Amara might need him, and there was no time to ignore her. He had never shied away from venturing farther into the darkness or had any reluctance to leave the woman who had brought her so much suffering. Allow her to suffer. She deserved it.

Though her eyes didn't quite land on him in the alley's overhang, she pivoted, her awareness almost unearthly. "Gramor?" Her voice was so different from her own; it was weak and shaky. It sounded for a second like... "Gramor They have all vanished. I have no one left.

He gritted his teeth against the want to be by her side, even if it was practically against his will, yet his hand still stretched for hers. "They’ll both be back by morning." He was aware that it might have been a falsehood. But he wasn't sure if she believed him based on the way he looked at her. It was the first time he had noticed the woman's real age. "You ought to go back to Ravenwood Manor." If you leave, they'll be concerned. There was no easier way to get rid of her.

"Gramor…" Her eyes were far away, hazy with uncertainty and intense grief, and her fingers clenched with unexpected intensity on his own. Was I alone to blame? One daughter to this world's fires, one to the next one... Everything I cherished... Was I the one?

To that, there was no correct response. Not when she hadn't even been honest with Amara about her mother. Not after she had brought such disgrace to both of her children. Now that one child had been lost to ashes and the other to some nighttime torture, was she looking for comfort? After an agonizing minute, he watched her come to her own conclusion in silence since he couldn't bring himself to console her.

"I never meant it." Both of them realized that was a weak justification, but it seemed to console the woman. "They were my relatives. I adored them. All I wanted was the greatest. There was a long silence, and her voice was hardly audible. "They believe that I am ignorant of their activities in those woods. Elyra She believes me to be an idiot. Bitter humor clenched her mouth. "If she knew the truth!"

She let out a groan and turned, walking back toward Ravenwood Manor with a stomping gait that appeared to have been sapped from her. Was it really that abrupt? Had he just missed it? He couldn't force himself to think that she would live much longer—possibly not until dawn—and she moved with the wobbly step of the already dying.

But she halted only a few steps away. She spoke softly to him without turning to face him. "You loved me too, once." It was a whisper, a brief recollection of a past he didn't want to remember. "Back when we were kids, before We were to start a family once you married me. There are moments when I feel like I was the reason you never came back. However, I don't think that matters anymore."

After a lengthy silence, she dropped her head and continued, "You also loved my daughter. I'm not apologetic for using that. But here we are now. Both are elderly. both by themselves."

The girl, the witch-child whose smile had once given his mind a light that his soul could no longer tolerate, came to mind as his thoughts strayed toward the woodland, impatient and unhappy at this uninvited remembering. Annelore, you're alone yourself. Not me. The remarks were not spoken out loud by him. He didn't want to bear their burden at that moment, when the elderly mother was about to die. He didn't want to acknowledge that she might be telling the truth.

He couldn't bring himself to forgive her when the quiet grew heavier and longer. Rather, she nodded in acceptance of his quiet. Whispering, "I understand," she said. "All OK. Then I'll die with regrets. But Gramor, look after them. They'll probably need it shortly.

She left him there and resumed her hesitant journey back to her home, suggesting that was the last thing she had to say. At first, he attempted to look away, but his eyes wouldn't. Even though he didn't want to, he remembered that day so long ago when he had promised to marry her. However, that girl had changed. He was unable to pardon her.

He didn't give her another look, just keeping an eye on her to make sure she got inside the house. It didn't seem to matter anymore to him. The only thing that mattered to her was that he could forgive her now. He was unable to lie even to himself.

She had betrayed everyone who had loved her. Let her pass away by herself.

The angel suspected that the sight was already starting to return to his eye. But because of the thick layer of wet plant mulch that covered it and was secured in place by a strip of the witch-child's sleeve, it was impossible to tell. He used his one good eye to watch her progress, but she was very silent. The girl's mouth curled into a small half-smile, and she appeared strangely calm. For reasons he couldn't understand, she appeared to have shed a load that she had carried for an excessive amount of time.

"What is your name, witch-child?" he finally said, putting his demon-hunt on hold for the time being because her departure had made him wonder. "Amara, wasn’t it?" It seemed odd that he recalled. After all, what did names signify to him? Didn't one mortal deserve his attention just as much as any other? But there was no denying that he had a soft spot for this one.

"Yes," she said, pulling away from one of the several cuts on his face and arms that she had treated with slivers of an odd-smelling green paste. "But you were aware of that. What about something I'm not familiar with? She raised her gaze, restrained for the time being from any fun, and looked at him with mild interest. "God-sent is your name. Or are people like you unknowable and extremely human?