“Run.”

Aurora grabbed Amy’s wrist and broke into a sprint. Karl chased, seething. A week ago, he’d kidnapped her as leverage against Aurora, a pawn in his bid to overthrow her.

The air cracked with cold behind them. Karl’s ice tore through walls and rooftops, causing Amy to flinch.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? You might ask,” Aurora yelled, half-laughing, half-deranged. “And, in return, I’d reply: Welcome home, my sweet.”

Amy shuddered, turning her wide eyes to the crazy lady. Aurora hauled her through the city like a stolen purse with googly eyes, its mouth agape.

And behind them, waves of ice and water tore through the street, bursting stone into shards. Aurora laughed nervously, refusing to look at Amy.

Oh god, this lady is not okay.

“I’m perfectly fine!” Aurora snorted, as if reading her mind. Amy flinched as she was dragged further into another maze of alleys.

A jagged blue-white crescent scythed down, splintering a building in half. A testament to Karl’s raw strength.

The earth jolted beneath their feet before surging upward. Aurora wrapped the earth around their legs and launched them forward like tossed laundry.

Amy might’ve fallen if Aurora hadn’t caught her again, arms surprisingly strong and steady.

But Amy shuddered, glancing at Aurora again. The humor had drained from her mother’s face, replaced by pure precision. The mask of the crazy homeless mother melted away, giving Amy a glance of the cold, bitter Empress, her eyes locked forward in concentration, jaw set.

And to their side thundered a boom. Closing the gap behind them was a seething Karl, still chasing. His expression made Amy wonder: What did you do?

“So you’re Aurora!” Amy shouted, breathless.

“Wow! And you must be Milo’s genius kid!” Aurora barked back. Her voice softened. “How’s that going for you, by the way?”

They ran a while longer.

Amy thought she understood what was happening. Karl was chasing and they were running. Until… Aurora skidded to a stop. In Amy’s throat, panic rose. She whipped around, searching for Karl.

“What—”

“My legs hurt. I’m tired of this shit.”

That was a lie, partly. She turned around. “Why am I running when I can school this kid?” She spun and hurled a bolt of white lightning that split the air with a sharp, metallic crack.

A shout rang out — Karl and his men dove out of the way, barely dodging.

Aurora fired again. And again. They were pure warning shots, but the loud explosions were deliberate.

“So much for being dead,” she muttered, scratching her head.

In the distance, the soldiers scattered.

Only one remained—a light-skinned man, tense and still. Karl.

Aurora narrowed her eyes. Then someone else — probably Julius — grabbed his arm, saying something urgent yet quiet.

The man hesitated…

To Amy’s surprise, Karl gave one last glare before turning and walking away. Amy remembered Libbet's glare and shuddered.

And, as if the universe had a sense of humor, Amy’s stomach growled.

Aurora blinked.

Amy stood there, chest heaving, watching the men turn back toward the city. The air stank of smoke from Aurora's explosion. The air burned, though the sun was setting.

Aurora finally looked at her, a creepy smile etched onto her face. “Am I supposed to be doing the mothering thing?” Her mother ran a hand through her unruly hair, as if trying to tame it. Amy studied her sharp features and deep brown eyes.

Amy stared, remembering Aurora’s white lightning, thinking of Samantha’s white chains. The color was…the same.

“Things just got complicated,” Aurora sighed, the creepy grin melted off her face.
—
It was hard to see Aurora shift from the cold, calculating Empress to a wild, crazy lady. But somehow, looking at her mother, both made sense.

Aurora spoke, jerking her out of her thoughts.

“I’ll feed you, but we have to keep moving.”

“To where?”

Aurora didn’t say anything.

Are you ignoring me? “Where?”

“Will you please stop talking? Motherhood is exhausting,” Aurora groaned before looking forward thoughtfully.

“Motherhood is…” She stared, horrified, at Aurora’s sheepish smile. “Are you joking?”

Aurora ignored the question again, choosing to answer the first one. “Well, I’m really good at hiding in caves.”

The ground was cracked stone, the air cool. They seemed to walk for days, passing many caves before Aurora sighed, plopping down. The air was scorching now, stone conceding to cracked, dry earth.

“Stay here,” Aurora said. “I’ll get food.”

“I’ll go with —“ But Aurora already disappeared.

It seemed like more hours passed before Aurora stumbled back in, a meal in hand.

“There’s a village a little ways away,” she muttered, her mouth full of food.

“Thanks.” But, despite her growling stomach, Amy couldn’t eat. Aurora, on the other hand, had no problem devouring. Amy stole a few glances at her mother, the former Empress, now in hiding.

“I have questions about your relationship to Kristo,” Amy said, causing Aurora to stop mid chew.

“Is he dead?” Aurora asked, matter-of-factly.

“How can you say that like—” Rage flared hot in her chest, prickling her eyes. She wanted to shout that Kristo had mattered, that his name deserved more than a shrug. The words clawed at her throat, but she bit them back, swallowing the rest. “Never mind.”

Aurora swallowed. “I mean, you wouldn’t be here if he were still alive.”

Amy gaped at her cold-hearted mother. “Coming here was a mistake,” she muttered. “Meeting you another.”

Aurora laughed. “Are you saying that like you had a choice? I don’t know what happened, but your arrival reeks of inevitability.”

Amy gritted her teeth.

“So Kristo’s dead, Karl knows I’m alive, and Samantha…shoot… is that why you’re here? Did Samantha kill Kristo and chase after you?”

Amy thought her deranged mother would laugh, but the amused pretext melted into hard sincerity. Something akin to sorrow passed her mother’s eyes as she looked down, back into her food and took another hearty bite. But Amy felt it —deep sadness.

A silence stretched softly into the night. Aurora created a crackling fire. One that seemed to be laughing.

“So,” Aurora muttered. “How…have you been? No…that’s stupid. Kristo’s dead.” She looked at the stars outside the cave. “I suppose…how did Kristo live?”

Despite her mom being a crazy homeless lady, Amy could read Aurora’s emotions clearly. No, read wasn’t quite the right word. Amy could feel Aurora’s heart, as if they were connected. And right now, there was a soft thrum shoved deep in the pit of her stomach.

Amy cleared her throat, begging the gods not to cry.

“Kristo… was kind. His whole life.” Amy hated how easily tears laced her eyes. “He was the best dad. Mine. And… he got married,” she said, seeing Aurora nod approvingly, eyes trained on the stars. “He had two kids. My brothers, but…”

A pathetic sound trickled out of her lips as her face flew into her hands. Her chest ripped out into sobs. Now, at this point, both her parents had seen her cry.

Aurora looked at her now, studying Amy’s features. Amy’s emotions were so powerful, she could no longer feel Aurora’s anymore. She didn’t see the gentleness and regret in her mother’s eyes.

She has my hair but the color of his eyes, Aurora thought, scrutinizing Amy. She crossed her arms. But of course, she probably also has his existential dread and my bad decision-making… Aurora tilted her head thoughtfully. Though she joked, she found she couldn’t quite smile. She acknowledged the ache in her chest. The one she still wanted to rip out. The one that never left. She exhaled sharply. But, regardless, Milo and I never cried like this…We weren’t babies… Right?

She looked at the stars, remembering when she screamed at Milo after she had buried him, besides his grave. She pursed her lips. “Yeah,” She nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I wasn’t a baby. “Not even when Milo died, leaving me.”

“What?” Amy sniffled and looked up at the sound of Aurora’s voice.

She smiled back inappropriately. “Nothing."
——————
That night, Amy couldn’t sleep. Aurora, on the other hand snored and rolled over, facing the cave. Amy stepped out to get fresh air, the moon bathing her in its ghostly light. Though the sun was down, heat still laced her skin.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora had conceded at the end of that night. Then, she grumbled angrily again before plopping down to sleep, still muttering.

The night air felt cool on Amy’s skin. The ground was still cracked from the unforgiving heat of day. Amy walked for quite a bit, not wanting to stop. She planned to return, just not yet.

She wished Kristo was here to save her from her miserable parents. She rubbed her arms, despairing that she was the child of Aurora and Milo. She didn’t even know much about their history, only that Milo had the powers of a dark god and that Aurora had once been Empress. Oh, and she has white lightning, like Samantha’s chains.

She shivered, despite the heat. She kept walking, noting the depressed, water desperate land. She didn’t know then that this was the land her mother had once died in. That Aurora slept in a cave that her father remembered quite well. That this land was hostile yet weirdly sacred in Milo and Aurora’s memories. Then, she jumped, hearing her name.

“Amy.”

A boy’s voice. Bennet’s.

And just like that, the night turned dangerous. She whipped around to see his twisted grin.