The moment he stepped inside, River broke into a fit of sneezes. It brought to his mind how often he’d find himself itchy or sneezing whenever he visited his mother, never once thinking much of it until now. Now, he knew better, and he turned to his sister with a miserable, loud sniff. All this time, magic coated his only safe space.

Cerys glued herself to the window, the gruesome splits in the flesh of her hands and arms catching River’s eye once again. She reached out towards the glass, touching something invisible and smiled softly, a shimmer of light flowing in between the cracks of her skin. He had never seen anything quite like it, curious of the nature and reason of her marks, worried if it hurt her.

At the thought of magic hurting, he was reminded of his own stinging skin and shifted quickly to shake off his denim jacket, dropping it over the end of the wooden hospital bed. Relief struck as he scratched his arms, the hives painfully red and raised, and though it eased the itch in the moment, the sting returned with a burning vengeance. He groaned through his teeth and flopped down on the over-plushed armchair in the corner of the room, between his mother’s bed and the window Cerys found all too fascinating. 

From the chair, he could see the entirety of the small but luxurious room. The twin-single bed took up most of the space, centred against the wall with the television in opposition, mounted above a chest of drawers. A closed door to the left of the television led to an ensuite while the built-in wardrobe was on the other side of his mother’s bed from where he sat, along with the door that led straight out into a hallway where more rooms of the similar make were.

He settled cosily into the armchair, resting his eyes for a moment. It held a lot of memories for him, and as he blinked his eyes open at his sister, he realised it held a lot of memories for her too. The better part of their childhoods were spent in this armchair, where his mother read them books, created stories from the depths of her imagination, lectured the two to get along, and shared the warmest naps with them both.

The chair was the closest thing to home the two had.

Cerys wasn’t intrigued by something only she could see in the window, River soon realised. She was avoiding the cold, hard reality in front of them, sleeping soundlessly in bed—his mother, Rhea.

She had been kindly tucked into thick comforters, warm and cosy in the Autumn morning. Grey had grown into her long brown hair, brushed neatly past her shoulders to where her thin, delicate hands rested on her stomach. Soft wrinkles were lined under her eyes and around her mouth, her once sun-kissed skin now a washed out ivory.

Part of River preferred her like this, perfectly asleep with nothing wrong as if she would soon wake up and grin madly at Cerys’ homecoming. He knew she’d be glad to know she had come to visit, regardless of the circumstances.

“She wouldn’t blame you,” he said without moving his gaze from his mother. “For not being here, not visiting. It’s hard, she’d get that.”

After a brief silence, Cerys tensely replied, “it doesn’t seem hard for you. You seem almost at home.”

“Because it is home.” River faced his sister, sympathising as she clutched onto the dark curtains. “Besides, I don’t really remember much of her before this. But even if she can’t talk or respond, I like to think she’d be happy for our company.”

Tentatively, Cerys stepped away from the window, clenching and unclenching her fists, jaw tense and eyes full of pain as she took in the sight of the woman asleep. River knew Cerys had given up on her ever coming back while he continued to hope—to believe she’d one day break from her catatonia and return to them. 

Slowly, as if Cerys weren’t sure she was allowed, she sat down on the bed beside Rhea, still soundlessly asleep. She reached her hand out but suddenly flinched, the scarred, black splits across her flesh catching both her’s and River’s attention. She hesitated for a moment but then decided against it, closing her fist and tucking her hands back into her jacket, choosing instead to only watch Rhea sleep.

“So…” River leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he peered up at his elder sister. He needed answers but had no clue where to start, left only to hold her furrowed stare, emerald eyes unwavering on his. “Are we safe now?”

Quickly, she took another glance around the room and then reluctantly nodded, setting her stern gaze back onto him. “For now, in here,” she determined, although remained nervously unconvinced. “But really, your place would have been better. I put way more work into those wards and we aren’t trapped in just one room. Why couldn’t we go there?”

River licked his teeth and then shrugged. “Didn’t want to.”

“River.”

“Cerys.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned and dragged her fingers through her hair, ruffling her blonde strands in agitation before she shot River a glare, in which he returned back tenfold. “Talk to me, please,” Cerys pleaded. “I can’t understand or help you if you don’t tell me.”

He shook his head and bitterly muttered, “now you want to help.”

“I’ve always wanted to help,” she quietly argued and reached out to her little brother, but quickly he stood and left her and his mother’s side. “River!”

Each step carried the weight of his anger as he crossed the room to the closet, tearing open the two doors to a collection of floral clothes before he reached up to the top shelf above and grabbed a large green duffle bag. It had belonged to his and Cerys’ father, worn and old with mended patches over tears and rips. It was the only thing River had from him, aside from his last name, and now it held everything River owned.

“Don’t shut me out, please,” Cerys pleaded and stood to face River, her crossed arms and clenched jaw betraying her sympathy. “I’m your sister.”

“Half-sister!” River spun and tossed the bag down to the floor, his expression scrunched up with hurt and anger. Cerys parted her mouth in shock and hurt, given no chance to speak back before River continued to growl at her, “you don’t get to pull the sibling crap. You left, checking in not even once over the last five years, and then you show up expecting everything to be the way you left it?”

“You’re upset I showed up to save your ass?” She asked in disbelief, a soft scoff escaping her.

“I’m upset you didn’t show up earlier!”

“I came as soon as I could!”

“Five years later?” Now it was River’s turn to scoff. He dropped to his knees in front of his duffle bag and forcibly unzipped it. “No, Cerys,” he continued as he rummaged through the contents of the bag, roughly shoving clothes and other loose items out of the way. “You came because you had no choice, because it was literally a matter of life and death for me, right?” He shot his head up to her frowning down at him.

“What’s with the bag?” She asked him.

“I was nine when Mum got put into this place. Nine, when you fucked off to God knows where, and nine when I got put into that forsaken hell house.” In midst of his digging, he sighed a breath of relief and pulled out a bundle of crinkled envelopes and postcards, poorly tied up in twine. “It took seven years, when I was barely sixteen, before you came back and I pretended everything was fine because holy shit, you were back. I thought that meant you’d stick around, that you’d be part of my life again, but no. You left, again.”

“I had no choice, I had to!”

“Without a goodbye?” River shot up from the floor with a tight grip on the papers and stepped over the bag, holding the bundle out for Cerys, who in turn regarded it with uncertainty. “Just a note, a burning necklace and a heads up on how to use it if I needed you?”

“I know it wasn’t ideal, but it saved you tonight,” she firmly said. She carefully took the bundle from him and inspected it without undoing the twine, turning it over and running her fingers over the edges of each envelope. “What is this?”

“Every letter, post-card, post-it note I ever wrote to you,” River answered and Cerys flicked her surprised gaze back up to him. “Because evidently, the pendant doesn’t work when I need you unless I’m being chased by an evil fucking cult.”

“River—”

“It might have been just as hopeless, I knew that, but still I thought maybe, just maybe if I found a Mythic, they could help get them to you,” he explained, scratching his arm in agitation. “Of course, with my luck, I only met pretenders and false psychics—no Mythics! So I got desperate, you know, I did everything from smoke signals and burning letters to holding a seance in case you were dead, and during it all, during everything I tried, I kept hold of this stupid—” he roughly grabbed at his necklace, winching at its touch but holding it up for Cerys anyway. “—this stupid pendant, waiting for the day it worked. I knew it would, I really believed in it, but I guess I just didn’t need you enough. Not until tonight, at least.”

Cerys frowned down at the bundle, delicately tracing her fingers over the ink on the first envelope. “I’m sorry, and this might hurt to hear, but you’re right… The amulet didn’t summon me before because you didn’t need me.” She met his gaze then, her eyes full of remorse. “You standing here, your survival, River, proves you never did.”

A bitter, hot anger coiled in the pit of his stomach, urging to burst forth and drown Cerys in even a fraction of the pain he went through without her. Yet, despite the resentment and rage, he couldn’t bring himself to unleash any venomous words or action on her. She believed she was telling the truth, and maybe him never needing her was the reality of things, but it hadn’t ever felt like that. River, in his truth, would always need Cerys. Even now as he faced her and wished she had never showed up, he still needed her.

He calmly exhaled the breath he was holding and turned away, lowering himself back down to his bag, where his belongings were strewn about during his mad search for the stack of letters. “I want answers, Cerys,” he firmly told her, bordering on a warning. “And if you want me to trust you, to even start to understand you, you need to give them to me.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” she admitted, “and there are things… Things I don’t want to share.”

River scoffed and shook his head, flicking his eyes up to the bed where his mother remained asleep, even after the rise of his and Cerys' voices during their argument. “So once again,” he said, “you show up out of nowhere and leave with more questions than before, and then you’ll fuck off.”

“Hey, no,” she touched his arm and brought his attention back to her. Her blonde bangs brought out her youthfulness, although her eyes carried years beyond her age. “I’m not leaving, not this time. They figured out where you live, despite the wards and the amulet and everything I’ve done to keep you hidden. And they attacked you, which means they’ve got something backing them if they are that brave to challenge me. The best way to keep you safe is to keep you with me.”

“You couldn’t have done that before?”

Cerys parted her lips and then closed them, unable to answer. River nodded and clenched his jaw, tired of her evasion.

“Right, well, you said it before,” he said. “I’ve survived after all this time, so clearly I don’t need you—”

“Don’t you?” She firmly said, disapproval heavy in her expression.

River scoffed out a laugh and smiled bitterly. “Now you care?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And if I could have, I would’ve been here for you before.”

A lie, his intuition told him. It boiled his blood, surging anger and resentment through his nerves and muscles. He clenched his fists, nails biting into the palms of his hands. “Bull shit, you’re lying.”

“I’m not!” Cerys snapped and shot up to pace in the space behind them at the end of the bed. “I couldn’t be here, River, not without endangering you.”

“Endanger me with what?” He stepped into her path of pacing, stopping her still right in front of him. “The Everlasting Servants? Why do they care so much about you? What did you do?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to tell me.”

“River, please!” Cerys gripped her letters with both hands, a spark of electricity travelling in between the splits of her flesh. She pressed her forehead to the stack, avoiding her brother’s cold stare.

The answer came to River much like when his intuition informed him of a person’s intentions or lies. He felt Cerys’ guilt and fear, holding her in a chokehold, and when the idea popped into his head for the cause, his instincts confirmed it. Part of him wondered how he hadn’t pieced it together earlier.

“You’re with them,” he said and instantly Cerys dropped the bundle of letters, her eyes wide with terror. “You’re a part of the Everlasting Servants.”