Chapter 12 

Year’s End

The bad dreams didn’t stop. 

Frequently enough I couldn’t ignore them. Infrequent enough that I didn’t force myself to stay awake. 

It had snowed early. 

The days of Year’s End drew near. 

It made me think about when I was a kid, when my grandmother would tell me about the stories of Year’s End and why we celebrated. 

I could hear her voice vibrantly in my mind. 

In the Old Times, when the shadows first crept across the ground and those in the first generations died, arose their ghosts; Angry Ghosts, Joyous Ghosts, Weeping Ghosts, and with them traveled the tricksy kin of the Unseelie Fae, and masquerading demons seeking to cause mayhem and steal the unlucky souls across the world. 

The spirits flew across the skies to the True End, to seek rest, and solitude. 

It is a time where the world grows cold, and the sky dark. For seven days straight do their travels blot out the sky, pulling the darkness over the lands where only the bravest and most cleverest of folk can brave the cold safely and without protection.

I breathed in the cold and smiled. The harvest was truly, truly over now. Mom and dad would have fully prepared the home for the cold. Soups and noodles would be in frequent rotation and my older sister would be showing me how to make friendship bracelets. Our stove would be constantly alight with crackling wood. 

Looking back on it all, I missed them most this time of the year. It weighed on me in a way that… hurt? It certainly was a kind of pain but its proper name evaded me. 

It reminded me of the anxiety I had those first weeks here on campus, and the fear that somehow the outstretched hand of my father would extend all the way out to my new home and grab me, drag me away to be punished for making my mother worry. Punished for missing several weeks of work. 

I thought I’d gotten past that worry, and yet here I was, with nightmares of my father possessed of a hatred for me, and people like myself. 

As I was truly allowing myself to let go of the “rules about being a boy,” I knew I could probably talk to Calamity about this. She’d have a way of helping, and a way of making me smile. 

It was easy to smile with Calamity. I felt it in my heart. Calm. Safe. Loved. The revelation struck me as I was alone in a bookstore, staring into a blank journal, daydreaming about filling it with stories of our days together. I was in love. Or at least that word felt appropriate. I felt safe with her, at home with her. Her affectionate hugs and a shared kiss…

It’s why asking her how she felt about my nightmares and feelings of dread would not truly help me in the way that I needed. Both of us would be biased. I was almost certain that Calamity reciprocated the feelings I had. Only by inviting uncertainty could I believe I wasn't seeing the signs. 

Which is why I was here, at the place. The little hideaway where we’d had the party, The Community. The assurance we were all going to be here through the hard times ahead.  

I quietly tapped on the wall in the successive pattern in my memory and very quickly the door materialised, that ominous slot moved open and a familiar pair of bright eyes met mine. “Well if it isn’t the skunk herself!” Lentock’s voice greeted through the door. 

The slot immediately shut and the door itself was pulled back. “Come in, we’re setting some stuff up for next week’s gig, but I always accept friends.” 

“Speak friend,” I said with fond remembrance. 

“And Enter.” He swung his hand in a welcoming motion as he stepped to the side. 

We both walked inside and I heard the door behind me vanish. The interior of the entire ‘building’ had changed again. It was a bit more compact, multiple tables were set up in rows, with corresponding benches, their streamers dangling from the ceiling. Each wall had a blackboard, yet it was like something much more casual than what I had experienced at the academy,  less clean, and in a way more “informal” than “educational” sort of sense.

Off in the distant end of the “hall,” I could see two other people placing streamers along the space where the walls and the ceiling met. One tall woman with black hair, and an avian bird woman sporting blue and purple plumage, her head feathers rustling as they both tended to arranging pamphlets and bags of importance. 

“What is this place?” I asked, looking all around as I soaked it all in, “Is this a different room, or…?”

“The Meeting Place is a pocket dimension of a sort. Been in town for as long as anyone can remember, I inherited it from the last owner,” Lentock smiled looking over his domain, “takes whatever shape I need it to when it’s time for meetings. Last time was a party warehouse of some sort, and this? We need a banquet hall for the meeting this time around.” 

“So what exactly is the meeting about?” 

“We have a monthly arrangement with some of the other queers in town. People like you and me; SPYTE’s got real quiet apart from their usual charity work this time of year. Always gotta know what your enemy is up to and how to respond.” 

The reminder that SPYTE was still a problem made me pause, almost feeling guilty for forgetting about them  “I see… well…” I had trouble finding what to say as I remembered that even outside my personal issues there were… those people.

“You wanted to see me about a thing, it seemed?”

“Yeah,” I found where I was again.

The two of us found our way to a table, facing each other on opposite sides as he presented me with a glass of a creamy drink that tasted heavily of chocolate, but was cool and moved in a thick way when I drank it.  “So what's been weighing on your mind here?” 

Closing my eyes and pushing the sensations of worry down and starting from the hazy memories of the repeating dreams, “I keep having dreams where… I’m home again.” The images are bright in my head, “My parents are there. They know… about me. They’re mad-” 

“Ah. That dream.” 

“What?!” My eyes open again as my stomach feels like it’s curling in on itself. “Is that a common thing?” 

“Yeah. I’ll guess you came here without their input right?” Lentock read me with an unfair ease. 

My fingers held on to the glass as though it was gonna keep me from falling out of the building. “Uh… Yeah. I took some things and ran away on the train…” 

“Felt like the only way?”

“Yeah,” I squeaked. 

He looked at me, really for the first time I could see the age in his eyes. This was a man with more than a single lifetime of work under his belt. 

“Roxanne. You have made the right choices.” Despite that affirmation his voice weighed heavily with something more, “sometimes, unfortunately, the right choice won’t change what's out of your control.”

I continued to look at his eyes, trying to find what that meant as I felt a pain that was… familiar, but older. A far more realised and concrete version of the rejection I’d dreaded. 

“I’m telling you this, because I wish someone had been ‘round to tell me.” Lentock leaned forward across the table “Every now and again you are going to lose someone. The best version of this is you just… lose track, they move to a new place, or you both get busy… or something that nobody’s fault happens.” He whirled his finger around. “Sometimes the person you care about might die. And no one can do anything about that.” 

I nodded as he spoke, taking it in as deep as I could. 

“And then… because we’re us… we get the special third thing.” He clinked his fingernail against the glass in front of him, the liquid shimmering with the shockwave. “One day… you lay yourself out entirely. Open to that person you care about… and when they see you they’re going to be unable to handle it. They will recoil. And run away.” 

“Is it always going to be that way?” 

“Not always; sometimes people are lucky,” he sighed, “but for me. when I came out to my father,the human half of me, he… I think about the words way more than I should. Man’s been in the ground for a while now.” He suddenly took on a gruff voice, “You’ve backed me into a corner here, this is way out of my comfort zone.” His voice came back to the smoother voice I was familiar with, “But… I drew my line in the sand… he drew his line… when it was all said and done he declared I was no longer welcome at the home I’d grown up in. Vampire magic did the rest.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can only enter places if I’m verbally welcomed by the owner of the establishment… someone retracts that welcome… I start breaking out in hives, nausea- not pretty.” 

“Oh..”

“What I mean to say is; what you're worried about with your family is justified. It’s terrifying to consider what they think, and they might not like it… and no matter what you do you're not going to be prepared.”  

“Not exactly making me feel better.” 

“BUT… You got friends… a community. I’ve been through it.” He pointed across to the other people in the building. “Some of them have been through it. Calamity knows what it’s like… You’re not alone. Even if shit goes completely oblong, you're going to have someone there to catch you. Trust me.”  

I thought about that long and hard. “Thank you. A lot.”  

“It’s what I’m here for. Now, anything else you might need?” 

“I was thinking about trying to get Calamity something for Year’s End, and honestly any suggestion would be nice…” 

***

 

Calamity’s gift sat in my pack now. The two of us, alongside Hazel, Lilith and Uriel all had our hugs, and wishings of travelling safe. And the three of them saw us off as we climbed on the train. 

The train. The memories of the anxiety from fleeing Olmsteady came back, short lived but still stark in it’s comparison to where I was now. 

If he could see me now. Even with only about 3 months under my belt I’d surely knock that old boy off his feet with how far we’ve come. We got hair! And skirts! There's stuff that moves a little more when we run. 

When I first felt it I giggled a bit. I wonder how he’d feel about it. That old me. 

The train ride north would take about a day… maybe a little more. 

Fissure’s Grave. 

“Dad finds the name funny, ‘specially since he’s basically in charge of it.” Calamity regaled me with the story while we sat in the privacy of our cabin. 

“You think they’ll like me?” 

“Why wouldn’t they?” Calamity’s smile was always infectious. “Don’t worry about it. Plus if they don’t I can just yowl at them about it!” 

And of course I listened. Calamity had never lied to me about anything.

 

***

 

Fissure’s Grave was built along the side of a mountain… or at least what seemed like a mountain. Sheets of rock bunched up together to form this oddly shaped cresting peak, curved shapes in the ground that looked like the ripples of an impact into a still lake, creating unusual hill shapes. 

A river passed through in a staggered flow. 

Calamity was quick to tell me a lot of the area had been permanently reshaped by the impacts between her father and that golden knight. 

The cobblestone ground beneath my feet gave me a nostalgic sensation for how the roads of Olmsteady were. My boots seeming to be happy to touch the inconsistent patterns of rock. 

It was still so much bigger than home though, a calm little restaurant was the first thing that greeted us out of the train station and Calamity was hasty to get us both bread buns filled with meat.

The thing that caught me quickest was how everyone reacted to Calamity. 

“Look at you! Calamity! You must have grown an inch since I last saw you,” The eyepatched man behind the register commented with excitement.

“Mr. Wrecker, I’ve only been away for a half a yea.r” 

“Well imagine all the growing you’ve done in half a year that I’ve missed!” he insisted, passing along  the wrapped buns that chased the snowy chill away from my hands. 

I think it was the first time I’d ever seen such a unanimously positive reaction to Calamity. 

Fissure’s Grave was hustling and bustling under the cold winter sky that looked like a thick quilt to buffer the cold  The bakery, the deli, a store for picture frames that from the outside seemed a little more busy than I expected it to be. 

And we passed through the town square. 

The Statue was no bigger than a normal person, and yet felt so much larger than life. A golden knight, his legs and feet faded with a reflective silver from who knows how many years worth of touching and rubbing. 

“The Golden Warrior.” Calamity smiled as we looked up at him. “Wouldn’t be a grave if not for him. I don’t think I’d be here without him either. “

I looked up in awe. Was I looking at Calamity’s personal Hazel? 

Taking a moment to look at people in the area, and the occasional coins and folded up slips of paper at the feet of the statue I suddenly had the follow up question; was this man the whole town’s Hazel?

In a way it filled me with more confidence that one day I’d be someone’s Hazel. 

The walk to Calamity's house was nice, calm and slow going. Calamity filled me with little bits of information about the town, the little places important to her formative years growing up, every so often punctuated with brief but friendly interactions with other members of the community at large. 

The Van Winkle Estate loomed large and sinister over our path to Calamity’s house. I had forgotten the little bit of information that Calamity and her had been childhood friends. The house looked like a perfect copy of the mansion that existed in San Venus. Though with what I knew it was more that the house in San Venus was the copy. Iron gate, darkwood, meticulously shaped bushes that were dead and empty from the cold now resembling monstrous canines frozen in midleap and covered in bits of white snow.

Calamity continued to guide me along by the hand. Filling me in on all the little facts about just how much of this town had been built in one way or another by her father. It was starting to make the man seem almost impossible to fathom as “just a guy.” 

 

Though. He wasn’t just a guy. I remembered how multiple times throughout Calamity’s life her father’s actions had pushed people to seek revenge through her. 

Imagining Cragjaw was already an arduous task if there ever was one. 

Calamity’s house was huge… but not as big as I expected. 

Two stories, long on both sides, gated, but the iron had been painted a white color that made it look less like a prison or like a warding and more so a kind of barrier to be passed. The iron fence stopped right at my stomach, in comparison to the Van Winkles estate which went right up above my head with its sharpened poles at the top. This was far more inviting. 

 

The grass was coated in a thin layer of snow, a small wooden duck was placed across a section of ground that was no doubt a garden in the warmer seasons, the wooden duck was of course leading a parade of smaller wooden ducklings behind it, each one have little bits of gleaming glass for eyes. 

Another small wooden statue, this time resembling a lion man with a sword pressed bladefirst to the ground greeted us when we made it to the porch. The fellow had a more warm smile carved into his face, creating a sense that he was welcoming us in 

 

And The Door. 

 

Red Wood. something that made me think of blood. Upon the door was a simple wooden sign, the words carved in simply said “Welcome” in big letters that were highlighted with a dark paint. 

And Calamity would with little ceremony simply push through the door, leading me in. 

Looking back I’m disappointed to say I don’t know what I expected when we passed through that doorway; darkness? A man violently playing a piano while festooned in a mask and cape? A cult quietly planning revenge?

No. I don’t know why my mind ever leaped to such ideas. 

After discarding our boots Calamity pulled my attention and held a finger to her lips; she wanted a little mischief. Who was I to disagree with the notion? 

As we entered into a warmly lit living room space a wall completely covered in shelves of books greeted us, with only the slightest hint of a guard rail to imply there was walking room above that led to the second floor. 

A woman with jet black hair stood facing into the shelves of books, black sleeves hidden under a top of flowing gossamer material in a deep red kept her shoulders covered as long fingers tapped along the spines of volume after volume. 

Calamity, quietly lead the way. Her footfalls silent upon the wooden floor. I tried to follow in sync. Calm. Steady. 

I watched quietly, Calamity moving like a predator approaching its prey as the person seemed to continue her perusal of books unaware. 

“You know, if you're trying to get the jump on me,” a smooth and calm voice filled with a smile said, “you should remember your father has tried this on me infinitely more often than you have, and I’m very good at hearing.” 

“Mom!” Calamity went slack in her place before the woman turned with graceful speed and took her into a hug. There was a moment of surprise, I hadn’t considered that her mom would be human..but..nothing about Calamity had ever seemed conventional so it made sense. 

“Oh my little bell flower” Calamity’s mother smiled with warmth “It’s so wonderful to see you again!” 

“Mooom! Stop! I wasn’t gone that long” Calamity made no actual effort to pull away from the hug, her own arms seeming to tighten around her mother 

“A whole half year so far; if you have children you’ll learn that half a year can be half an eternity.”

The womans eyes suddenly made contact with me and I felt…something ominous fall over me. An implacable judgement of my entire self.

“And this…” She broke the hug and moved upon me “must be the girl you mentioned in your letters!” enthusiasm honeyed her voice as she spoke. 

“Roxanne!” Calamity proceeded to rush to my side “This is my mother, Cassilda” 

I’d been staring. We’d been talking about meeting her parents all morning, but now that I was here I locked up. Or well…something made me act like a person who seemed normal enough “It’s a pleasure to meet you” I said. 

Cassilda continued to smile, and gave a slight bow. I could see the dark shadows of make up that added a mystique to her appearance. “It’s wonderful to have a face for a name,” she said, the warm kindness never seemed to abate. 

“We’ll be having candebeast stew this evening” She turned back to Calamity “your favorite, and brownies afterward.” 

Calamity tapped her feet quickly in excitement. “Thank you!” 

“And your father should be home any-” I was the only one to jump at the sound of the door behind me opening with rapturous intensity, the shockwave attempting to carry me away and out the other side. “There he is” 

“Sorry I’m late” the deep voice made my chest vibrate. “Renovation at the library was more than expected today, BUT by Mennen, if that staircase is going to be the sturdiest thing in the world.”

I had never seen a man so tall before. 

I had seen a man so WIDE before. 

Cragjaw Fissure had to be nearing seven feet tall. I hadn’t noticed how wide the door frames were but with shoulders like that it was a wonder he could go anywhere. I felt like an insect in the presence of a cat.  Wait. 

The fur on his body was dark as storm clouds with stripes of white along where I could visibly see, and punctuated with the odd scar here and there about his coat. Every bit as menacing as a Dark Lord could have looked. Save for the visible pink scrunchy keeping his mane held behind his ears. 

Naturally though he was more preoccupied with more important matters. 

The ease at which he picked up Calamity and spun around in a circle with her in his grip was astounding. 

The hard cut impression he gave as Cragjaw sat his daughter back on her feet softened now. He was a good father, and it took less than a minute to see that.

“Haha. my little empress makes her glorious return!” 

“Dad, come on…” Calamity’s sheepishness made me smile as I watched them all interact. 

“I Trust the schools been treating you well”

“Yeah..studies are a-...lot” she caught herself as she was about to swear. I couldn’t help giggling

Suddenly the eyes of the great Lord Cragjaw Fissure fell upon me. I could see where calamity’s eyes came from. A vibrant ocean of blue looked down on me as he judged me for everything I was worth and then. 

 

“Aha. Roxanne…from the letters. I thought you’d be a little shorter. But I’m glad to meet you!” he held out a hand for me to shake. The grip was strong, but nothing to–

Suddenly I was pulled into a hug and a squeeze “I’m so glad to hear about Calamity’s friendships!” he grinned as he gently put space back between us 

“Thank you..Mr. Cragjaw” I said with a bit of dizziness.

“Craig, please” he corrected politely “I’m only Cragjaw for the census” 

Huh. Anyone could change their names, not just trans people. Wonder why that wasn’t more widespread?

“It truly is wonderful to meet you” Craig went on. “And it is an honor to say that for as long as you are here; our house, is your house.” he gave a very regal bow to me..or at least as regal a bow I had ever seen….actually thinking about it no one had ever bowed to me in any fashion before I entered this house. 

 

There was suddenly an exaggerated huff from behind Craig. “And here you are preening before the guest and you haven’t even paid me any mind” Cassilda crossed her arms and made a show of her indignity.

“And oh, my star in the midnight sky,” he suddenly took her by one arm and tugged her in, kissing her on the back of the hand and up to the elbow. “How can I forget my manners and not present myself to the great Queen in my life” before she could offer any rebuttal they kissed then and there.

To the side of me Calamity rolled her eyes. “Come on. Let me show you my room!” She took me by the hand and guided me along and up the stairs. “Let us know when dinners on!”

A diagonal row of portraits passed me by up the stairs in a blur, Calamity in different ages in her life, Family portraits, and great depictions of achievements from what I can only assume to be Cragjaws past were depicted 

I only caught a glimpse of the outside of the door to Calamity’s door. Black painted wood, covered faded white chalk drawings and words that reflected different types of handwriting.

I’d known her for nearly half a year now, and somehow I’d never considered how her personal bedroom would just be a further extension of our shared space back at the academy. 

Strings with little jingle bells hung across the ceiling in criss crossing patterns, tiny stars painted across the door frame we’d entered through. Back at the academy she’d hung little paper stars over her bed dipped in wax and some small light sigils for whenever we’d turn off the lights… I suspect the ones here did the same as the ones back hom- at the academy. 

A mannequin stood in the corner, a set of spade shaped glasses sat upon it’s ears, right next to it a desk with a stack of journals and sketchbooks on display. A nearby vanity mirror coated in various illustrations of clothing outfits was poised. 

And off to the opposite side of the desk was a bed fair bigger than any I’d seen in my life, wrapped in a deep red blanket with an embroidered star pattern design along it.

It was every bit as eye-catching as the girl who twirled about in the center of it all. 

I let out a whistle, and looked around as the door shut behind me. “Cozy, right?”

“Absolutely!” I smiled in agreement. 

“Oh!” she suddenly spun to move to her desk. “Here's the best part” she suddenly grabbed this little jewelry box, one hand taking to the bottom where she turned something out of view, a clicking cranking sound as she wound up something. 

“This…” She then sat the box back down on her desk and opened the lid; vibrant tones of music began to fill the air, the music full of a kindness that strangely reminded me of the first night at the academy after we’d settled in.

She turned and faced me with a warm smile, extending a hand to me. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Ms. Vangrove?” 

I think my cheeks could have rivaled the redness of her vest at that moment. “I’d love to.” I took her hand in mind, and she pulled me close, her offhand doing a quick flick as I felt the ripples of magic past my ear, the manalamp flicking off and the light sigils on the paper stars above us turning on. 

A starlit dance to the sounds of music. Lead along by my most favorite person in the world. 

Life was good. 

 

***

Day 1. The Burial of Burdens.

In the way back when times, in order to appease the spirits it was believed that feeding them something..or someone inconvenient to the continuing of society would grant them the energy to leave.

The something in those days would be things like a vagrant. An unruly animal. Vegetable and fruit preserved from the least bearing plants.

The story continues and says that one year, a man was cornered by angry spirits. Hungry ghosts that demanded something of him.

So he confessed.

The story is old enough that the confession is never the same from telling to telling, he cheated on his partner, stole from his friend…killed a boar simply for the pleasure of it.

The easing of his burden…the confession…fed the ghosts better than any fruit, animal, or human sacrifice ever would.

And so now it is that we take our burdens..the terrible secrets we carry from the months gone by and write them down. Depending on your community the tradition is that you either bury the secret in private…or…they are laid out in a box for all to submit.

It is believed that reading the burdens of others brings bad luck. The confessions aren’t meant for the eyes of your fellows. Or so it’s said.

It coincides with another tradition…but we’ll get to that in the coming days. 

The four of us were bundled up as warmly as we could be. The sun had set for the last time of the year yesterday evening, and now the only thing one could depend on were the clocks, and intuition. 

Craig, being the leader of this town meant he also held the job of hosting the townsfolk in travelling deep into the surrounding woods of Fissure’s Grave. Into the cold persisting night 

Everyone I saw, be they man or beastfolk, seemed to carry one confession or more. 

I reflected on the slip of paper I kept tightly bound in my fist. The Name that I had wrote on it. I didn’t need it, nor did I want to carry it anymore. I suspected neither of my parents would be thrilled about it, but deep down in my heart this was the best way to truly cement that I was Roxanne Vangrove. That I have always been Roxanne. 

To the old boy I was months ago, at the beginning of this journey: you will be missed. 

I kept myself close to Calamity as we followed at the end of the crowd of us. 

Calamity looked uncharacteristically sullen

“You alright?” I nudged her with my shoulder as we kept along. 

Calamity gave a half smile that vanished as soon as I’d seen it. “Not really?”

“Whats wrong?” 

“...nothing.” she sighed “The night of burying burdens always just….feels empty for me.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It’s…complicated” 

I nudged again “well…too be fair I have a hard time imagining you carrying any burdens with the way your honest all the time” 

Another flicker of a smile. “Well…I mean…” she stopped a second  “I do participate in the burial, but… it never really stays buried so sometimes the burden just… is stuck with me.” 

“That's hard to believe, you’re such a good person- I mean, as I said I can’t imagine you having a burden to carry.” 

Calamity paused and wavered. “I… Roxanne… I’m not a good person… not really.”

Was it dramatic? I wasn’t sure. Calamity stared up at the sky after she spoke, “I… don't understand how you're not a good person.” I reached up to gently guide her eyes back to me. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s because I’ve been lying-” She looked away, this time to the ground, “-about what's been going on with me and Briar.”

Something in my gut whirled around at the name. A part of my mind raced to find an implication but I tried to force it down.

Her breath came out in thick wisps in the cold as she sighed and pulled her knees up to her chin. It was a heavy breath that weighed with years of pain. “I miss my friend, Rox,” she confessed, “Me and Briar used to be inseparable and then… you know, I know it’s not good to just linger on this stuff but it just repeats in my head every now and again.” She leaned back as we looked out into the depth of the woods. 

“You said she was jealous of you going your own way, right?” 

“And she was… but there's more to that. She does… actually have a reason to hate me.” I felt her hand try to hold on to me but then pulled back as she seemed to realise what she was doing. She hugged herself as she carried on.

“I am 100% happy being me, and I’d never change. But sometimes I can’t help thinking; what if I had just sucked it up and been that old me that made certain people happier? I mean it’s not like I didn’t already have people being all weird about my family history, I added deciding to not be my birth gender to it and it just made it all the more complicated.” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? The silence stuck in the air as I thought of how. “I mean… are you sure it’s too late to mend things with Briar at this point?”

“I don't think there’s any mending to be done. Not without a lot of talking that I don't think either of us will likely to be capable of doing in a long while.”

At this point we were both dancing around… whatever it was. “I- not that I’m going to judge you, but… what did you do?”She wouldn’t look at me now. Despite us being inches away from one another I felt like she was trying to put miles between us. “Well… I- I ripped my deadname out of her head…” 

Everything was still as those words went through me. “I… how?” 

“You remember that time in town I made the offhand comment about the books my parents have? That the school doesn’t like students getting a hold of?”

Slowly, I nodded, despite Calamity looking the other way.

“Clarence's Catalog of Curses, and Cruel Magic,” Calamity began, “page two-twenty-four, targeted memory distortion or removal.” 

“So you used that spell and…” The memory of Briar calling me more loyal than Calamity echoed in the back of my head.

“They aren’t good spells. Can’t be cast without… intent.” 

“What does she remember?” 

“She knows what she doesn’t know.” She let out another long sigh. “It’s a big blank spot in her head where my name was. It wasn’t exactly an easy mystery to solve.” 

There was a lot of distance between us and the crowd now. Just us two. 

“Like even if someone who did know it was to remind her, I supplemented it with additional spells, basically makes her mind refuse to comprehend it… may as well just say ‘back bone’ ‘gazebo’ ‘albatross’ at her in sequence and it would make as much sense- and before you ask. No. I don't regret doing it… I think I regret not going further.” 

There was a coldness that washed over me that was more than the air and snow. 

“I could have pulled all of her knowledge of me out- started fresh- but it felt… I guess at some level I was able to ignore the empathy necessary to let her come to the decision to respect my name and pronouns and all that but like… on some level I feel like if she just… was allowed to remember and if I just…  guess wasn’t so much cruel to her in the way she was to me as I was just challenging… maybe she’d just get over herself… I don't know.”

We stood there alone now in the void of the woods. “Sometimes… I think I’m the villain they claim that I am.”  

My hands took her and pulled her into a hug before I really processed what happened. I felt the tremors in her body. She sobbed. Hard. 

Seeing the strongest person in my life cry was a lot. 

Legs cold in the frost, I hugged her all the tighter. 

I thought about her, I thought about Briar. The things I knew about both, even if they were limited to what was shown to me, I felt I could make a judgement based on that. 

“I’m not mad.” The words came out as thoughtfully as I could make them. 

Calamity sniffled a bit. “Why not?”

“I don’t know if I wouldn't have done something similar,” I confessed. “I wont say what you did was the right thing.” I pressed gently against her so she could look me in the eyes. “But I don't know how different I would have done things if it had been me in your position and with your resources.”

Past her tears, there was confusion written all over her face. 

“And…you’ve been beating yourself up over this for how long? I don't see a point in adding to it.” There was a silence between the two of us as she seemed to process everything. “I love you too much to hate you,” I made another confession. 

I realized what I said the second it left my lips, my eyes going wide and my muscles twitching as I could practically see the three little words shaped in the mist of my breath. Gods… oh no. 

“You mean that?” Calamity said, her tone surprised and seeming to have knocked any hint of sadness out of her in that moment. 

The giggles came out of me before I realized what I was doing. “Yeah…I…do, yes.” Of course I loved her, even in the cold, what else could keep me warm but the thought of hugging her and keeping her close to me. A million times-

My thoughts broke. 

“I love you, too,” Calamity confessed, “Probably sooner than I should have, but I love you too.” 

We hugged as the snowflakes gathered in our hair.  I reiterated what I was saying though, “but… I don't think what you did is something I’m upset with. I don't know if I agree with it… but you had reason... and the consequences happened anyway. I won't add to those. Got it?”

The smile I was so familiar with came back. A little nervously so, but it came back. “Got it.” 

I took her by the hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. We got burdens to bury.”