I wandered through the cabin, not a single light lit. Just in the darkness and moonlight. As it was. As it should be.

Walking over to the wide glass doors that led to the balcony, I gently slid them open. They were soundless. But outside, oh, out there, the world was full of noise. I leaned on the railing, not bothering to close the doors behind myself. There was no need. I’d only have to open them again.

All the animals that came alive in the nocturnal hours seemed to hum around me with greater fervor tonight.

I closed my eyes with a sigh.

Tonight was a special night, wasn’t it?

I knew it would be.

A small smile graced my lips. But it was sad, longing that it wasn’t this night, as much as I counted the days in anticipation for the result to come. There were words I’d been wishing to say for so long.

But, as always, it felt too soon.

It was always too soon.

The Blackstone child growing up and continuing their bloodline. The young Norcell girls growing up into the leaders they were destined to be. Blakeley… They’d all grown up in the blink of an eye. And now their children were grown, so fast, in the same manner.

Quickly.

Just as she…

“Hello, child,” I called out into the world.

For a moment, there was silence.

“You knew I’d come?”

I opened my eyes and looked down the steps.

Yes.

I knew.

It was why I never bothered to close the doors, else you might be tempted, child, to open them for an elder like myself.

I kept those words to myself as I always did.

Watching the shadow leaning heavily against the wall, bracing an arm against the railing, I felt that same sense of defeat.

Just like always.

But there was no changing this.

There was no fixing that could be done.

“It’s been too long. And when you leave,” I added, “it’ll be far longer than even my lifetime before we meet again.”

She gave a small chuckle as she gingerly climbed up the steps, taking her time.

“I should’ve known,” she huffed out.

I held my reply.

Yes. You should’ve known.

I grabbed her elbow to help her up the final steps even when she gave me a look that said she’d wanted to do it by herself, but she didn’t fight me off as I led her through the open doors. This time, I closed them behind us.

“Water?” I asked her as I moved away from her side.

At first, she just watched me walk to the kitchen in silence.

“It’s not necessary. You know that.”

I did know.

And yet…

“Let me play host one more time, dear. To ease my old soul.”

I wasn’t ready to admit what I knew.

Turning just in time to catch her smile as she ducked her head and confirmed water, I nodded.

“Good.”

I filled up a glass slowly, pondering, wondering…making those useless dreadful hopeful wishes that would never happen. No, fate had already chosen the path. There was nothing to be done.

I dreaded the conversation to be had between us.

Staying in the kitchen, I slid the glass onto the bar counter that sat between us. I could recall the first time she’d come and found me here. When she used her magic to transform my humble home into a mansion, not realizing who I was then.

She played with the glass of water in silence for a while. Her expression didn’t change, but I knew what this was about. As if reciting a line from a script I knew well, I broke the silence.

“You’re not prepared.”

“Is anyone… ever prepared?” Tears seemed to spring right up into her eyes, hovering there. They shimmered as they met mine. “When I came here the first time… you knew?”

I wrapped my own hand gently around her chilled one.

“Of course I did,” I whispered. I looked down at that glass of water. It was just the same as the world we lived in. The life of a single drop of water in that glass could have a number of things happen to it all in a short time. The glass could fall and shatter, sending it tumbling across the floor, only to be absorbed by a towel. It could evaporate and be freed into the air, pushed along by wind only to eventually become a cloud that drops it back down to the earth. It could be drunk. It could bond with a dye, changing its color.

Or, it could watch every other drop around it vanish, until it was the final remaining one, fate sealed as much as left up to decision.

“It never makes it easy, child. Never.”

She nodded, her finger running around the rim of the glass.

“You’ll look after them? After…”

She never needed to finish that sentence. She already knew the answer.

“Yes. I’m sure they’ll pass through here on their way.”

“So it wasn’t in vain…” she muttered to herself, “all of it.”

I stared at her, watching the fight and life seem to seep out of her with every passing second, as she thought on all of the terrible things of the past. She didn’t raise her eyes, so I reached out and lifted her chin up.

“Nobody asked you to do this.” I gazed into her eyes, just as a tear slipped down her cheek. “You didn’t have to.”

She gave me a small smile.

“Who would I be if I just…” She sighed. “Who would I be if I didn’t try to change it all?”

“You changed fate, darling child,” I corrected her. None of what she’d done was light or easy. And she’d done all of it in consideration of others, of the many outcomes her actions would have. “Fate.”

She shrugged.

“It was worth it… I think…? Right?” She searched my face, a sudden fear gripping her eyes.

Aren’t we all a little afraid of being wrong?

I gave her a smile and patted the top of her head.

“For your end goals… yes. It was worth it.”

She’d gone so far to remove any chance of this going horribly wrong. Of course, there were always variables, always chances for an alternate reality. But she’d eliminated over half of those herself, despite the countless others involved with free will.

The tension fell from her shoulders when she sighed.

“Thank you.”

Slowly, I shook my head.

What did I do?

Nothing.

I couldn’t.

But she…

She changed… everything.

“Nobody else could have done what you have. Nobody has ever accomplished this kind of impossible before. They never will again.”

Not for a very long time. Far, far beyond my mortal time.

A small smile graced her face. It was full of pain. Tears slipped from her eyes once more. She pursed her lips, the corners still turned up in that way of mixed satisfaction. Of knowing what will happen, but also despising it just a bit.

“Nobody will know.”

“They will.”

The woman before me took a small sip from the glass, taking a second to swallow before speaking. “Of course. But beyond them… no one.” She shrugged again. “But that’s enough. It’s enough.”

Spoken well like someone who was trying to convince themselves.

As she started to turn to go, to use her magic again, I sighed.

“Rest well, Ashena.”

This time, the smile she gave me was warmer, brighter.

“It’s an honor.”

“Hm?”

“Hearing you say that one more time.”

And then the silence became the room.

Like a wisp of wind that left through the window quietly, without disturbing a speck of dust. It had been like a visit from a ghost.

Nothing but me remained in the cabin.