Finally

Tia gasped as the plaza vanished in a searing rush of white. Her lungs locked. Her body felt like it was stretched into a thread and pulled across eternity. Then–

Stillness.

No stone beneath her boots. No roar of guards or whispers of bystanders. Only white. Endless, suffocating white, flat in every direction.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Not again–” she muttered, spinning, but there was nothing to see. Nothing but–

A laugh. High-pitched. Childish. Echoing from everywhere at once.

“Oh, you were wonderful,” the voice chimed. “Bold! Defiant! The way you told them all to go fuck themselves? Hah! They’ll quote that for years, you know. Maybe centuries. Whole sermons will be rewritten just to denounce your little speech. Delicious.”

Tia froze. She knew that voice.

“…L’ile,” she whispered.

And then she saw them.

For the first time, it wasn’t just a disembodied tone. The white of the void condensed, shaping into something almost human. A body floated there, small and slight – a boy, maybe, though not quite. Their proportions were off, limbs too narrow, joints bending with a casual grace that didn’t feel earthly. White hair spilled upward, as though gravity had been reversed, and two eyes glimmered like glass marbles under snow.

They were upside down, hanging in the air as though lounging on some invisible couch, chin resting in their palms, ankles crossed. They grinned wide enough it looked like their face might split in two.

“Miss Celestia,” L’ile sang, rolling the name across their tongue. “Finally, we meet eye to eye. Or eye to… chin, I suppose.” They wagged their fingers playfully while rotating lazily in midair.

Tia’s stomach lurched. She wanted to yell at them, demand answers, demand to know why she had been dragged here, why her friends were suffering because of her, why the world itself seemed to want her gone. A thousand questions burned in her chest–

–but then L’ile lifted a hand and pointed down.

Tia followed their gesture.

Her breath caught.

The parchment. The scroll she had used was still in her grip. But it wasn’t whole anymore. Where it had torn, its edges curled, blackened. Fire licked across the surface – a strange, steady smolder that burned without smoke, without heat, without consuming her skin. Piece by piece, it was dissolving.

Like a wick.

Like a countdown.

“Oh no~,” L’ile teased, voice lilting as they somersaulted lazily through the air. “Don’t look so stricken. You didn’t really think that cheap scrap was permanent, did you?”

Tia’s throat worked. “I–” She clenched her jaw. “I read the fine print.” Her voice cracked, but she forced it louder. “I know it’s temporary. So stop playing games and just–just let me go. I want to see them. My family. It’s been–” Her chest tightened until her words broke into a whisper. “…too long.”

L’ile tilted their head, feigning a pout. “Straight to the point. No questions about destiny? About why I chose you? About the grand purpose that spins behind all this?”

Tia snapped her gaze up, fire flashing through the tears in her eyes. “Later.”

The god blinked, then laughed. Actually laughed, so hard they rolled in the air like a child tumbling on a hill. “Oh, I do adore you. Perfect choice. Perfect.” They righted themselves – or rather, became more upside down than before, their smile widening. “But your time runs out quickly, little spark. The wick burns, and when it’s gone, poof – you’re back there. Though I’ll grant you the opportunity to not appear where soldiers still roam. That’d be boring.”

Tia’s grip tightened on the parchment. The smoldering edge crawled inward like teeth gnawing paper. She could almost hear it eating away.

Her voice wavered. “Is there… a permanent spell?”

L’ile pressed a finger to their lips, mock-thoughtful. Then they leaned close, so close their strange marble eyes filled her vision. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Tia’s pulse spiked. “Tell me! If I’m really your ‘perfect choice,’ then–”

“Ah-ah.” L’ile’s grin returned, sharp and cruel. “Not today. Think of your home, Celestia. That is the only way forward. Picture it. Every detail. Or waste your precious seconds in this blank little box with me.”

Tia’s breath hitched. Her heart thudded. The parchment kept burning.

She shut her eyes. She thought of her mother’s voice, her father’s laugh, her sister’s squeaky footsteps on the stairs. She thought of the dining room, the smell of her mom’s cooking, the framed photos on the wall.

The void quivered.

“Good girl,” L’ile whispered. “Show them what you’ve become.”

The world cracked.

A soft snap.

The white fractured. Light split, shattered into a thousand glimmering shards. Rainbow slivers carved through the void. The air bent inward, crushing and stretching at once.

Tia’s breath broke into panic as she got wrenched downward by the pull. She wanted to say something, but her words dissolved into the rush of falling.

The void shattered completely.

She dropped. No sound. No air. Just the sense of plummeting through infinity, parchment burning away in her hand.

And then–

The white gave way to color.

Tia’s feet struck something solid. Her knees buckled. Her eyes flew open–

–and she was standing in her family’s dining room.

She was home.

Not some warped illusion. Not the twisting marble halls of the Arcanum or the shadowed terraces of Ssarradon. No. She knew this air, this light, this smell before she even dared open her eyes. The faint tang of soy sauce. The soft hum of the fridge in the corner. The overhead bulb with its little sputter every time it warmed up.

Tia’s breath hitched. Her gaze snapped upward.

The dining room. Her dining room.

She stood right beside the old table, its wood still scratched from years of homework and spilled drinks and card games. On it sat three bowls, steaming faintly. And one empty place – a space set but unused.

Her stomach twisted at the sight. They hadn’t forgotten her. Even after all this time, they had kept a spot. A quiet ritual, maybe, or a wound they couldn’t close.

The three faces at the table turned toward her in unison.

Her mother’s hands flew to her mouth. Her father’s fork clattered to the table, forgotten. And across from them, her little sister’s phone slipped from her grip, hitting the linoleum with a plastic crack.

Silence. Stunned, suffocating silence.

Tia swallowed hard, her throat thick. Her lips wobbled, but she forced them into a smile anyway.

“H-hey,” she croaked, her voice trembling. “Long time no see, eh?”

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then her chair screeched back. Her mother surged forward first, skirts brushing the floor as she half-stumbled around the corner of the table. She didn’t even speak, just reached – hands fluttering before finally pressing to Tia’s shoulders, her arms, her face, as though to check if she was really there, really solid. Then she pulled her in tight, so tight Tia almost couldn’t breathe, her body shaking with sobs against her chest.

“Oh god, oh god,” her mother whispered, over and over. “You’re here, you’re real–”

Tia’s eyes burned. She let herself sink into the hug, burying her face against the familiar fabric of her mom’s sweater.

Then another weight wrapped around them. Her father’s arms closed around both of them at once, rougher, firmer, but no less desperate. His chest shuddered against her back, his voice hoarse in her ear. “Tia. Tia. Oh, thank god. I thought we– I thought–”

Her knees almost gave way under the sheer force of them. Weeks of absence, of grief, of hopeless prayers, all colliding in this one moment. She clung back with everything she had, tears spilling freely now.

And then a smaller pair of arms joined them, sliding in hesitantly from the side. Tia twisted her head just enough to glimpse her little sister pressing in, her cheek wet, her whole body trembling. She didn’t say anything at first – just hugged, as if afraid words might break the spell.

Finally, her sister’s voice squeaked, barely audible. “Y-you… you came back.”

Tia laughed – choked, broken, half a sob itself. She dropped one hand from her parents and dragged it around her sister, hauling her close. “Yeah,” she whispered, her throat raw. “Yeah, I did.”

The four of them clung together there beside the table, a tangled knot of arms and tears and disbelief. No grand speeches. No explanations yet. Just the raw, impossible fact of reunion.

For the first time since the white void had claimed her, Tia let herself breathe. Really breathe.

She was home.

They finally broke apart – reluctantly, almost guiltily – gasping for air, wiping tears off cheeks with trembling hands. Tia blinked down at her palm. The parchment was still there. Still burning, smoldering steadily with a flame that gave no heat. The embering edge had crawled further, but slower now, sluggish as though time itself pitied her.

She let out a shaky laugh. “Guess… guess it means I’ve got more time.”

Her mother’s brows drew together. “More time?”

“It’s–” Tia lifted the page, then winced as three sets of eyes locked onto it. “Don’t freak out, okay? It’s not hurting me. It’s… well, complicated.”

Her father actually leaned closer, studying it like it might suddenly explode. “It’s burning. But not burning.” He reached as if to touch, then thought better of it, rubbing his hands hard against his jeans. “What the hell, Tia? What is this?”

Her sister’s voice cracked when she blurted, “What’s going on?! You just– you just vanished, weeks ago, and now you’re back and–and you smell like a barn and you’re holding that–”

Tia laughed again, high-pitched, too sharp. She pressed the parchment against her chest and took a breath. “Okay. Okay. Let me explain. Or… try to.”

Words tumbled out of her before she could order them. “Remember my graduation night? I lay down that night and wished I didn’t have to pick a job yet. That maybe I could just… not? Well. I fell asleep and – yeah, it sounds stupid – but I woke up in this huge white nothing. And there was this… voice. A bratty little god, apparently. Told me I had some kind of destiny.”

Her mother’s hands tightened together like she was praying, her father just staring with his mouth half-open.

“I thought it was a dream, obviously,” Tia went on, her own hands flying as she spoke. “But it wasn’t. Because the next second I was out in the middle of nowhere. A whole other world. No moon, just this giant arch across the sky. Like something out of science fiction. Except it wasn’t fiction because it was freezing, and I had nothing, and I was about ready to starve.”

Her sister’s lips parted, her eyes wide, wet.

“But they found me.” Tia’s throat hitched. “A caravan. Travelers. They saved me. There’s Balthan, this huge minotaur guy – he’s gruff, kinda scary-looking, but honestly he’s like… like a dad. Then Rika – she’s basically a golden retriever in human, uh not quite human form, all sunshine and wagging tail. Then there’s Vesh, a lizardman. Stoic, serious, coolest guy ever. And Corin – human. Brave. A little awkward teen boy.”

Her words blurred, tripping over themselves. She kept gesturing with the parchment until she realized her dad was watching it like it might eat her. She lowered it quickly.

“They’re my friends,” she said simply. “They helped me survive. They showed me magic is real. Real magic. I’ve been studying it. I even worked with this weird old almost-archwizard to find a way home, and–well, this.” She lifted the parchment again. The flame had chewed another inch.

Her sister’s voice cracked. “S-so… you did it? You came back? Y-you’re home?”

The tears threatened again. Tia bit her lip hard, shaking her head. “Not… not really. This is just a projection. Temporary. When this paper’s gone, so am I.”

Her mother gasped. Her father swore, low and ragged. Her sister let out a sob and slapped both hands over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Tia rushed out. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ll keep looking. I’ll find more spells, stronger ones. I’ll come back. I promise.”

Her dad moved before anyone else. He grabbed her shoulders, eyes blazing with a fire she’d never seen in him. “Then we’ll go with you.”

She blinked. “What?”

“We’ll go.” His jaw worked, voice hoarse but steady. “If this world is where you are, then that’s where we should be. Forget jobs, forget school, forget everything. We want you. Nothing else matters.”

Her mom nodded fiercely, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Yes. If it means we don’t lose you again, then yes. We’ll go.”

Her sister’s arms shot around her waist again, clinging desperately. “I don’t care where it is. I don’t care. Just don’t leave us.”

Tia’s chest broke wide open. She laughed and sobbed all at once, wrapping them all in her arms again. “God, I love you guys.” She pulled them close, words spilling like a vow. “I’ll find it. A real spell. Something permanent. I’ll bring you there, or bring me here, or– something. I swear I will.”

They shuffled as one into the living room, collapsing onto the old couch in a tangled heap. Her mother kept one arm around her waist, her sister practically in her lap, her dad leaning forward with elbows on knees as though ready to fight someone for her.

The parchment still burned, slow but steady. Her dad suddenly snatched it from her, muttering a curse. He bolted for the kitchen sink, jammed the paper under the faucet, and twisted the tap full blast.

Nothing. The water poured through as though it weren’t even there. The parchment kept smoldering, sparks biting further into its edges, implacable and eternal.

“Damn it!” he barked, slamming the faucet off. His hands shook with frustration as he shoved the paper back to Tia. “Magic. Fuck.”

Tia took it back gingerly, her throat tight. The glow flared brighter, a cruel reminder of the time she didn’t have.

But she clutched it anyway. Because right now, she wasn’t letting go of any of them.

The fire had eaten most of the parchment now. Only a corner remained, glowing like the last coal in a dying hearth. Tia’s heart lurched. She could feel it – the tug at the edges of herself, that same weightless pull she’d felt in the void.

She swallowed hard. “I… I don’t have much time.”

“No–” her mother’s voice broke instantly. “No, not yet–”

Tia reached for her, took both her hands. The warmth of them made her throat ache all the harder. “Mom. Listen. I need you to know this before I go.” She blinked rapidly, vision blurring, but she forced herself to keep smiling. “You’ve always been… so loving. So cheerful. Even when things were hard, you still made it feel like home. You and Dad–” she choked on a breath, laughing shakily through it– “you made the most perfect pair of parents anyone could’ve wished for.”

Her mother shook her head fiercely, tears streaming, but she pulled Tia into a desperate kiss on the forehead. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Tia turned next to her dad. He was trying to stay strong, jaw clenched, but the tears had already betrayed him. She gave him a crooked grin, the same kind he always gave when he wanted to lighten the mood. “And you, Dad… you never stopped smiling. You never got angry when I screwed up, even when I probably deserved it. You just… believed in me. And you never hesitated to defend us when we needed it. I admire you so much. You’ve always been my favourite dad.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, voice rough. “I’d defend you a thousand more times if it meant keeping you here.”

Her chest burned. She turned last to her sister. The girl had her arms wrapped tight around herself, as though trying to keep from crumbling apart. Tia cupped her cheek gently, brushing away a tear.

“You.” Her smile softened. “You like to act all cool, I know. Nonchalant. Pretend you don’t care. But I’ve always known better. You’re my sister, and that bond–” she pressed her hand tighter “–it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. I love you. Just as much as you love me, even when you try to hide it.”

Her sister broke then, sobbing, clutching Tia’s wrist.

“And listen,” Tia added, voice trembling but steady. “Don’t just coast, okay? Don’t just follow what other people expect. I know you have dreams, things you’re too shy to say out loud. Chase them. Tease me about being a nerd all you want, but don’t you dare give up on yourself. Promise me.”

Her sister nodded violently, unable to speak.

The parchment flared. Tia felt her body unraveling, threads of light spilling from her fingertips. She forced herself to keep speaking, quickly, desperately.

“And one more thing. All of you. Don’t forget–” her voice cracked, but she pushed it out, loud and fierce– “don’t forget how much I love you. Always. Even if I can’t come back. And if you really do want to give everything up – Earth, jobs, school, all of it – just to be with me… then be sure. Because the other world, well–” she huffed out a wet laugh– “it’s got magic, but not much hygiene. Seriously, clean cloth’s like a luxury.”

It broke the tension – just enough for her dad to laugh through his tears, her mom to swat her shoulder, her sister to hiccup mid-sob.

The last corner of the parchment turned to flame. The light flared, consuming her body. Tia lurched forward, grabbing them all at once, dragging them into one more tangled group hug. She buried her face in their shoulders, breathing in their warmth, their smell, their everything.

And then she was light.

She dissolved in their arms, the glow swallowing her whole, until there was nothing left but their hands clutched around empty air.