MATED TO FATHER, FATED TO SONS

I stared out the window at the darkness beyond the glass.

The full moon would rise tomorrow night and I knew with absolute certainty that the secret I had managed to keep hidden for one entire year would finally be revealed to everyone.

My power was slowly returning, creeping back into my bones like water seeping through cracks, and I could no longer effectively mask my true strength.

A knock sounded at the door.

I sighed because I knew exactly who it was. I contemplated if I would respond, but I knew he was as stubborn as a mule and would just stand there till I answer.

I turned away from the window and called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open slowly and he walked in carefully holding a wooden tray, balancing a plate of soup that steamed gently and a glass of expensive red wine, and laid it down carefully on the small table near my bed.

I smiled at him weakly. "Thank you." I was tired of forcing a smile for a gesture that felt more like a bother because I wasn’t going to eat the meal.

He knew it.

"You should eat," he stated, his voice gentle but firm. "There is going to be a full moon tomorrow and you know what that means."

I sighed heavily, the daunting thought of tomorrow pressing down on my chest. "Yes I do."

I paused and added quietly, "I don’t think I am ready yet."

He glanced at me with those understanding eyes and walked slowly to the window where I had been standing, staring out at the thick trees of the forest that stretched endlessly beyond, and said, "It has been a year. I know you are still healing."

He turned to face me fully and took my hand gently in his, touching the burn scars that covered my skin with careful fingers, and said softly, "I know these still hurt more than just physically but we have no options tomorrow because it is beyond our control now."

I pulled my hands away from him abruptly.

I was still so painfully conscious of the scars, of how they made me look, of what they represented.

I walked slowly to the mirror that hung on the wall and stared at them properly in the lamplight. The scars covered almost my entire body in patterns of burned flesh, everywhere except my face.

I wondered why not on my face too.

It would have been so much better if the fire had burned my face as well, so I would not be able to recognize myself in reflections and probably forget all my sins, forget who I had been.

Maybe this was the guilt I was meant to carry forever, to hear the children crying as they burned alive in my nightmares, to watch the mothers desperately wrapping them in wet blankets to save them from the unbearable pain.

All because of me.

All because of what I had done.

He walked up behind me and stared at my reflection in the mirror, placing one hand carefully on my shoulder, and whispered, "You are really beautiful."

There was a time when those words would have sounded like a genuine compliment to me, would have made me smile. But right now they did not feel like praise at all. They sounded more like a curse I had to bear.

I turned to face him directly. "What if he finds me tomorrow? Or worse, what if he does not even look for me at all?"

He smiled sadly at my question. "When the time comes you will have all the answers to your questions. Right now you need to eat and rest because tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

I nodded slowly even though I had no intention of eating.

He gave me a half smile, the kind that did not quite reach his eyes, and I knew he pitied me deeply but was too cowardly to actually say it out loud.

For months I had been wallowing in my sorrows, drowning in my overwhelming despair and completely soaked in my pain.

And I was just supposed to drop all that tomorrow? Pretend everything was fine?

How could I possibly do that?

He walked toward the door to leave and I called his name suddenly. "Carlos."

He halted mid-step and turned to face me. "Yes?"

I hesitated before asking, "Is she pretty?"

He did not reply immediately.

"Please tell me," I added quietly.

He nodded once. "Yes."

I gave him a bitter smile that felt like broken glass in my mouth and he left without another word, the door creaking closed behind him.

I stared at the tray of food he had brought and knew it would also go untouched tonight like all the others. I had no appetite anymore, had not had one for months.

The door creaked open again suddenly.

I turned to look at what Carlos must have forgotten when my heart skipped a beat painfully in my chest.

He walked in slowly.

For over one entire year he had not come to see me, had not visited once, and I was not sure what to do as my heart pounded violently and leaped at the same time with conflicting emotions.

He stared at me intently, unable to stop looking, his eyes taking in every detail of my scarred body as he slowly approached where I stood frozen.

He gave me a half smile.

"Hello Freya."

The tears just rushed out without any control, streaming down my face before I could stop them or even try.

But I still could not move, could not make my body respond.

It had been one full year since someone had called me by my actual name instead of whispering about the dead witch.

Freya.

The witch of the first order.

The lady who had supposedly died in the fire.

I finally managed to move forward on shaking legs.

"Hello Brother," I managed to say through my tears. "It has been forever since I last saw you Cole."