Page 28 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
A glamour. Folk magic, which means a Folk hid it. It adds weight to my theory that she was working with Folkara.
But I don’t knowwhy.
I slip the book into my bag, though I can’t be sure it’s truly a book beneath the glamour.
With the bag clutched close, I step out of the room and avoid the creaking floorboard on the stairs once more.
My eyes land on the table, where my father sits alone. Watching him now, I realize I misread him earlier—when all I had were echoes through the walls.
He is not the same. There’s a grief in him, heavy and hollow, like the pit in my own chest—something he’s holding back with all he has, trying not to be swallowed whole.
And it’s all because of me. I’ve done this to him, and now I’ve broken into his home, taking away his last scrap of relief.
Before he can see me, I press myself against the wall on the stairs—as if I could disappear into the wood forever.
“Terran?” he calls.
It’s been five years. He can’t see me, not like this. It’s been five long years of knowing they were better off without me. I can’t bombard him with my presence.
Yet, there is no way to get back to Visnatus other than the community mirror.
There is no way to hide if he chooses to feel.
I have no choice.
I step into view.
Our eyes meet for the first time in five years. Tears slide past mine.
“Wendy,” Pa remarks in awe.
There’s a bright feeling.
It’s the rising sun, but the day only lasts so long. No matter what, night will come again, overshadowing the sun.
In the end, only his blame will remain—resting solely on me.
As it should.
Pa’s eyes turn glassy as he walks toward me, wrapping his arms around me. “My sweet Wendy.”
It’s been so long. I haven’t heard my name spoken like this… in so long.
I wish I could hug him back. It’s the first hug I’ve had since Ma died. But I’m as stiff as a board, scared my movements might scare him away faster. Like I’m a wolf, and he’s a rabbit.
This warm feeling he holds—that I am holding—will not last.
It’s only the rising sun.
“Has something happened?” Pa asks, the same cadence to his tone as before, back when I knew him.
Yet his feelings are still conflicted. I understand. I am his daughter and his wife’s killer. He blames me as I blame myself, yet loves me as I never will.
I wonder if he knows of the things I learned today. Why Ma worked for Folkara, or why a woman she used to know was taken by the Arcanes.
“No. Nothing’s happened.” Then, “I missed you.”
I choke back a tear. One falls down his cheek.
