More times than she would care to admit or track, Sybil had counted herself off, then backed down, leaving the polished brass door handle untouched. If, later on, one were to ask Sybil just what was different about the attempt in which she finally managed to gather the courage needed to reach out and open the door, she wouldn’t have been able to say. But eventually, she managed to grasp the handle, and twist it open. The door swung open on its own, hinges lightly squealing, to reveal an empty room, identical to the way it had been all those years ago when Sybil last set foot inside it. Wading through sweeping currents of both relief and crushing disappointment, she set foot inside. Each step felt heavy, but she managed to walk briskly and purposefully to Illis’ untouched work-station, where a whole different set of internal turmoil awaited her.

 

Something had been eating at Sybil ever since Madelyn left to confront the wight. Ignoring it had been easy when faced with the prospect of losing Madelyn to its clutches, along with her fraught homecoming. But standing in front of Illis’ stock of reagents, the issues surrounding the spell, and surrounding Madelyn, came into sharp relief. Something just didn’t add up about the wight’s finger and its relationship to the summoning spell. At its heart was the burning question of why she even needed the wight’s finger, why syrkroot hadn’t been good enough. And, more or more, Sybil was starting to realize that the foundation this question rested upon was Madelyn. 

 

Truthfully, she was starting to wonder if the problem wasn’t that the spell had failed twice now, but that, actually, it had worked once, and not been necessary the second time. A spell which probed the veil between worlds to seek out and transport a specific person from some other world to her own wouldn’t work if said specific person was already in Sybil’s world. Regarding the wight’s finger, Sybil already knew it was something which, realistically, she would only need if the spell she were casting bound together three different types of magic. Even then, for a wight’s finger to be necessary, at least two of the three spell components would need to be fairly complex. 

 

Interpreting the intent, the will of her dreams had always been the biggest challenge of all. So what if, all along, Sybil had been missing a crucial detail? What if the original spell hadn’t just been meant to summon her lover—to summon Madelyn—but also to give her a body which matched her internal self? Now that Sybil thought about it, maybe Madelyn would still like some such spell cast upon her. Sybil had never asked if her newer body was adequate; it was simply very evident that her current form was superior. That was a question for another time, though. The matter of the original spell was more pressing at the moment, as well as Madelyn’s role in it. When she tried, Sybil could come up with a myriad of reasons as to why it clearly wasn’t the case that Madelyn was the woman Sybil was meant to be with. But did she want to do that? Could she really pretend the feelings she held for Madelyn weren’t there?

 

The whole conclusion about Madelyn was one which Sybil had quite possibly been forcing herself not to consider. But, at the same time, how could she know for sure that was the answer? If Sybil were wrong, and Madelyn left her like everyone else had, that would only be a recipe for so, so much more hurt. Sybil wasn’t sure she could take that kind of hurt again. When she looked inward, her heart told her to trust Madelyn; time and time again, Madelyn had been given opportunities to leave Sybil, to prove untrustworthy. Instead, she’d risked her life for Sybil, over and over again, going so far as to nearly die to keep Sybil safe. Believing in that was all well and good, but when she listened to her head and not her heart, it reminded her that Illis had once seemed trustworthy, had once shown love and care for her when nobody else had; Sybil needed only look around to see the fruits of the trust she’d placed in Illis.

 

The unfortunate reality was, neither argument had her fully convinced, and as she scanned row upon row of filled vials, dried herbs, rare minerals and all other manner of magical components, the uncertainty paralyzed any real choice. Still, Illis’ stock was expansive, and Sybil had plenty of time to think things over. At least, she would have, had the sound of footsteps behind her not roused Sybil from her search. She whirled around, finding Madelyn lingering in the doorway, eyes cast slightly doward and feet shuffling uncomfortably, looking very much like she knew she shouldn’t be there, but couldn’t keep away. 

 

“Madelyn, I know you want to help, but I—”

 

“I know you asked me not to be here. And I’m sorry, but there’s something you need to see.” Madelyn’s eyes traveled down to her hands, which Sybil now realized were clutching at something; a piece of paper, it seemed?

 

“Did you find something?” What ‘something’ could be, along with what she might hope for it to be, were both lost to Sybil. Yet she still, for some reason, felt a flicker of hope.

 

“Yeah, I found it on your desk, along with another feather. It’s an envelope, with your name written on it. I wanted to wait until you were done, but I was getting really anxious and—”

 

“What do you mean, an envelope addressed to me?” That felt like a foolish question, Sybil knew well what both of those things meant; there was hardly anything else they could mean. And yet, why? How? Who? Perhaps that last one was obvious, too. Madelyn gave no response, instead gingerly crossing the room, and offering the envelope. The wax seal was nondescript, but even after years upon years, Sybil recognized that handwriting. With shaking hands, she grasped it, broke the seal with a fingernail and a weak bit of magic, and held it up under the light. Her eyes scanned the page.

 

Dearest Snake-in-the-grass,

 

The weather grows warm here. I’ve been thinking of swimming, but you know how much I hate having to wash the sand from between my toes. 

 

And how fares the farm? I do hope that cousin keeps you in good company. I know his stories can be quite a bore, at times. 

 

I regret how brief I must keep this, but I’m running low on ink. So I must bid you farewell. 

 

Fondly, 

 

Cockatrice

 

For a moment, Sybil stood baffled, and, honestly, crushed. This was nothing, it was nonsense. Then, after her initial visceral emotional reaction faded, the more logical parts of her brain began to piece things together.. Inscribed at the top was an intricate, interlocking rune. Immediately, Sybil recognized it as an indication that what she had just read was encoded. Relief washed over her, and suddenly, muscles Sybil had never realized were tense relaxed. She knew how this worked; each word had been laced with encrypted, intertwining magical keys which only Illis and her pupil knew how to decypher. That was the idea, anyway; many years had passed, and Illis had never made these easy. Regardless, confidence seemed to be flowing freely; she could do this. Part of Sybil wanted to laugh; here she was having this big emotional moment, only to put it on hold for a bit of arcane codebreaking. Most of her, though, was being held under the turbulent waves of pure feelings which rocked her. Whatever this message was, it was from Illis, and it had to be important. So many questions plagued Sybil, but there was only one way to find answers.

 

Gradually, painstakingly, Sybil assembled the scattered pieces of Illis’ message. As she did, her already trembling hands began to shake, her already watering eyes began to flood. This final message, it was all too much. Far, far away, someone’s throat was cleared; Madelyn’s, probably. Her gaze rose from the page—it wasn’t as though her blurred eyes could read it anymore, anyway—and fell upon Madelyn's fuzzy form. 

 

“Can I ask what it says?”

 

In a shaky voice, Sybil began to speak. “It says a lot of things. I, well, I always knew she had enemies. You don’t get to be as powerful as Illis without someone deciding you would make a good pawn in their game. Even when I was little, I could tell she had a nasty past. And according to this, the reason she had needed that massive focusing crystal was to keep this place hidden from people who wanted her dead. That’s why she was living out here in the woods away from civilization, too. But regardless, I guess at some point they found her, and came after her. That’s why she left, to keep me safe from them; she didn’t say goodbye, because she knew if she did I’d never stop following her. Couldn’t write because any letters she wrote might be traced right to me. But she won, she got them.” Her throat tightened, Sybil could barely breathe so much as continue to speak.

 

“Is that it, then?” Madelyn asked softly. Sybil shook her head.

 

“It’s not. She won, but they still got her in the end. It says that the last thing she did was will this letter into existence, give it to Jasper, and have him fly it home. Also, it says she’s sorry. And that she loves me.” Her arms fell loosely to her side, Sybil didn’t have the strength to hold them up anymore.

 

“Sybil, I’m so sorry.” 

 

“It’s fine. I think; I think I kind of knew all along. I just didn’t want to. So instead, I fought really, really hard not to believe it. And yeah, the thought crossed my mind before. Over and over again, actually. The thought that she was dead. But I never let myself dwell on it, I chose to ignore it. Instead, I drilled it into myself again and again that she’d left me. I did it so much that I almost forgot the alternative was an option.” At this point, she was admitting it all as much to herself as she was to Madelyn. “And I don’t know why, I guess it was just easier, less heartbreaking, to think that she’d moved on. To tell myself she was better off without me. That was a million times more palpable than her just being dead.” Her breaths came in slow, shuddering gasps as Sybil tried and failed to get ahold of herself.

 

After a long pause, punctuated only by deep sighs and heavy light sobs, Madelyn replied. “It doesn’t have to be fine, you know.”

 

“I know. I just—can you give me a minute? I think I need to be alone.” 

 

“Of course, I’ll wait downstairs.” Madelyn turned to leave.

 

“Hey, Madelyn? Uh, thanks.” After a moment, Madelyn again turned to leave, before Sybil quickly interjected. “There might be some food in the kitchen? I’m not sure how great my preservation magic was back then, but I tried to make sure there would be something to eat if she ever returned. And, well, she won’t be needing it. So, I don’t know, you can help yourself.” 

 

“You’re stalling, Sybil.” Madelyn crossed the room in a few long strides, and pulled Sybil into a deep, comforting embrace. Sybil cried, she cried harder than she had in years. They stayed like that for a long time, Madelyn quietly soothing her. Before, eventually, Sybil broke the hug.

 

“Thanks, I think I’d like that alone time now.” They parted without another word. Standing alone, Sybil trudged to the chair placed in front of Illis’ desk, and sat heavily. For the first time in a long time, Sybil realized just how tired she was. And not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. She’d been wrong. Illis had loved her. And instead of believing that, instead of accepting that she was gone, Sybil had chosen to isolate herself. She couldn’t really do that anymore, though, could she? How could she justify continuing to live this way, pushing everyone else aside if the foundations she’d built that lifestyle upon were a fabrication? And now, that question which had been lingering in her heart for so long seemed impossible to ignore. Sybil was pretty sure she knew the answer, too. But first, she allowed herself a few minutes of rest, of tears, of grief. Then, when the sobs died, down, Sybil stood, and strode across the room to Illis’ reagent cupboard. With casual familiarity, she opened the door, and took what she was looking for.