67-Zach #2
Tossing the fruit, he lifts his hand toward the sky, revealing a rainbow of shimmering lines that stretch in every direction, connecting at thousands of intersecting points like a mandala pattern.
The sight pulls at something deep in my chest, like a beckon calling me home.
“You were right.” His gaze drifts over my shoulder, as if waiting.
Something shifts in his expression; a boyish kind of spark.
He smirks. “No god holds more power than humans. For humans have the ability to love, regardless of inevitable loss. That is the secret, and I spend each life trying to remember. Now that you are enlightened to it, there is not stopping you from receiving what your heart most seeks.”
His stare stays fixed on that invisible point behind me, lit with a quiet awe. Silhouettes of the willow’s branches paint his face in stripes of gold, catching the curve of his cheek and a faint crease at the corner of his mouth.
With an encouraging jerk of his hairless chin, I turn, following his gaze.
The mossy meadow brightens as three cones of holographic light ignite a few feet away; soft at first, like rainbow-tinted lanterns rising from the earth. They hover, each one a sphere of dazzling pigment.
They stretch as the colors condense, drawing themselves into tangible silhouettes. All of them form at once, rising from the brightness like babies learning how to stand. My breath catches; I know these shapes before they’re fully formed.
Limbs, torsos, the curve of shoulders, and tilt of heads materialize.
Clothing drapes over them, taken straight from my own recollections.
My mother’s favorite knitted red sweater, torn at the collar.
My dad’s old, checkered flannel, the one he wore every fall.
Nicole’s cherry-orange sundress with tiny, embroidered wildflowers that she used to pick at when she was nervous.
The light gathers at the center of each form, then pushes outward, sculpting cheekbones, brows, and mouths I know better than my own reflection.
Nicole’s freckles appear one by one, arrangements I memorized years ago. Her fiery hair falls in loose waves, catching the meadow’s glow.
Gentle lines settle around my mom’s mouth, carved from years of laughing even when cancer made it hard. Her eyes, twins to my brown, hold a tenderness that could quiet any storm.
Beside my mom, tall and broad-shouldered, his face shaped by sobriety, stands my dad. His bearded jaw is strong, his smile small but sure. His jade irises hold a clear depth I hadn’t seen in the years before he died.
“Is this real?” I whisper. My voice feels too small for the moment.
“Everything is real,” Endymion responds, swiping at the majestic fields around us in a sweeping gesture. “Magic or illusion, it is energy. If emotions are the same, then it is real enough.”
I run. Grass parts under my feet, the willow brushing my shoulders as I break through the screen of branches. They’re around me all at once, folding me into an embrace I thought I’d lost forever.
My mom’s hands slide into my hair, fingers threading through the strands the way they used to.
Dad’s arms wrap around my shoulders, solid and grounding as he pulls me in.
His flannel smells like a smoky autumn. Nicole hoots through tears, her hands cupping my face as if checking I’m really here.
She buries her face against my shoulder, shaking with laughter that breaks halfway into a sob.
I cling to them; afraid the dream will blink away.
“I cannot hold them here much longer,” Endymion says gently, his hand drifting toward the gold pin fastening his chiton. He touches it the way someone touches an old scar, thumb brushing over the worn engraving. “They must return to Eden.”
The name whirrs with a weight I don’t fully understand.
“Take me with them,” I demand, clutching my mother’s sweater. “Take me back to Eden, too.”
His fingers tighten around the pin, trembling just enough for me to notice. It’s the only sign of how hard this is for him; a crack in the godlike composure he tries so desperately to maintain.
“You cannot go.” Endymion shakes his head, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “You have far too much left to do in this life.”
“We’ll be here, babes,” Nicole adds, resting her forehead against mine, her vanilla-orange scent drawing tears from me like a faucet turned to full blast. “We’re always here. Besides, someone’s gotta take care of my dad.”
I want to freeze time, hold this moment still.
“We are so proud of you.” Mom cups my cheek, her pursed lips trembling.
“I’m sorry no one gave you the recognition you deserved.” Dad rests a hand on the back of my neck, steady and sure. “But you got out. You’re breaking cycles every day. Every choice you’ve made has been to better yourself.”
Lifting my quivering chin, he adds, “Yeah, you got tired, you wanted to quit, but every time you were told you weren’t done, you got back up. That takes courage. More than most people ever find. Keep that courage with you. I never did.”
He presses a kiss to my curls. His spiky beard grazes my forehead, familiar in a way that weakens my knees. Mom brushes a stray curl behind my ear the way she did when she wanted me to look at her. Her fingers linger at my temple, anchoring me to a version of myself I barely remember.
They gaze at me with love, pride, and a sorrowful goodbye.
Nicole wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face against my shoulder. Her chuckle trembles, caught between joy and grief. She squeezes me tighter, as if she can fuse us back into the life we lost.
My hands shake as I hold onto all of them at once, trying to memorize the shape of their arms around me. A dim glow rises from the grass, threading up their legs like vines of gold. Their bodies shimmer, edges blurring as colors bleed into one another.
Then they merge; three bodies collapsing into one radiant sphere like a star forming in reverse.
It explodes outward in a burst of color, a supernova of memory and love.
The force of it knocks the breath from my lungs.
It washes over me, then retracts in a blink, folding back into the sky like it was never here at all.
In the quiet aftermath, the meadow settles. The willow branches sway together like a curtain closing. Arms wrapped around the air; I quake with the echo of their embrace.
Endymion watches me, and I catch a glimpse of the shepherd he once was, long before myth carved him into something unrecognizable. He looks like a simple young man, standing in a field at dusk, with wind in his hair and hope in his heart.
The weight of centuries settles over him once again. He straightens, shoulders jerking back, that human warmth clinging to him like a memory he refuses to forget.
“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” I ask.
Endymion’s smirk is pressed, sad. “I made an oath to set you free, and I am a god of my word.”
“And Kit, is he—”
“What happens next in your story shall be entirely your choice. For that is, and always will be, your power.”
I throw myself at him, sobbing into his chiton. He stiffens at first, hands hovering above my back. Slowly, his arms fold around me, pulling me in. We fit together like two halves of a story; a beginning and end that never quite learned how to meet in the center.
Despite everything between us, he saved me; changed me in irrevocable ways. With a certainty that’s carved into my bones, I know that our paths will cross again. Maybe not in this life. But like spring after winter, its return is inevitable.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, gripping the back of my shirt. Mint, honey, and sunshine engulf me, its golden-warm comfort layered over a woodsy musk. Fresh tears warm my collarbone as his shoulders tremble with centuries of weight he never asked to bear.
Withdrawing, he presses his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling. He cradles my jaw, fringed thumbs brushing the last of my tears away.
“Zachary,” he whispers, voice breaking, “it has been an honor to watch your enlightenment.”
The declaration settles over me like a blessing I’m not ready to receive.
Closing his lids, Endymion places a tender kiss at the center of my forehead; a goodbye and promise. He jerks his chin toward the river, and I turn toward the water’s edge.
It rushes fast and bright, the current roaring like a live boundary between here, and the life still waiting for me.
Another beginning is yet to come.
My legs shake as I step closer. With one last glance over my shoulder, I take in the willow, then a grinning Endymion. My pulse thrums with fear and certainty intertwined.
I jump, and the river rises to meet me.