68. Vameer
Vameer
We stand, yards apart. Staring.
My chest aches as my pulse tries to rise.
He’s so close.
A small hand presses against my back.
And I take one step forward. “Brother.”
Volik’s exhale is rough. “You are here.”
Then we jump. Meeting halfway. Crashing together.
For the first time in over a century, I hug my little brother.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me just as tight. “Vameer. I can hardly believe it.”
I can feel the way his voice breaks, and I hold him even tighter. “I am sorry. I did not mean to sleep for so long.”
“I knew you slept,” Volik whispers. “But I did not know how to find you.”
“Lo siento.” My breath shudders. “I did not mean to leave you, Miraculum.”
My little brother shudders at the name our mother used to call him.
Burnt apples linger in the air, mixing with singed mint, lightning, and… flowers of old.
We pull apart, and I place my palm on the back of his head. “Forgive me.”
“I felt you wake.” He palms the back of my head. “I knew you lived.”
“Dimitte mihi.”
“There is nothing to forgive, brother.”
“I am still sorry.”
The side of his mouth pulls up. “You are here.”
I let my own smile win over the heavier emotions. “I am here.”
We drop our foreheads together.