A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 77: Pleasure Knowing You

I stand at the edge of Okinawa beach, right where the waves crash into the shore. It's always refreshing when the water washes into my toes, and the sand, it's so soft whether wet or dry.

It's a beautiful spot—if it weren't for his death flashing in the light. I liked it here. There are people, but not many people. It's hot, but not unbearable. Pigs roam freely and tropical birds are my morning wake up call. If it weren't for the past, this place would be a dream, a paradise—geez... even that town is enough to jog my memory.

Then there's Naya, the old New Zealandia woman. She doesn't know me, and I don't know her; that's just the way it's been. I like it this way. She never reminded me of the past, or who I've been, what I've done, and she doesn't try to determine my future, like... like dad or Setrákus Ra did. Maybe that's what I'll miss most about her.

Her golden-grey curls and old Indie dress sway in the tropical breeze, like they're waving at me. I watch her a while, wave back, and at last, she turns. She smiles a smile that cries: It's been a pleasure knowing you! I haven't told her where I'm going, but I think she already knows. It's been forever since I've seen John. I know he's likely worried about me—time to time, I hear his voice in my head. But I can't do it. I can never face him again, not for what I did.

I breathe a deep breath, hands lit at my sides, and shoot out of the shore. A fickle wind hits my back, freezing me momentarily, but the island looks calm; quiet. Naya waves further down the coast. I smile and wave back, then turn to the east.

Pixie flies alongside me, the faint black scar clear under her wing. I hate seeing it; worst of all, I hate knowing it's there because of me.

It's like my mistakes follow me everywhere these days.

But like everything, I shove it all behind me with a sigh, and keep zipping over the water. It's endless and beautiful; me, the breeze, the horizon, and the eagle. My six pendants clink together as the wind blows through my hair.

Pacific dolphins jump out of the water to greet me, and I slow my speed to fly with them. They clack and patter, singing every interval when they leap above the blue. I laugh a little, but they leave all too soon when land hits in the distance.

This island is much bigger, and yet, somehow, I know I still have far to go—nearly a whole country's worth... but I travel it, flying just above the clouds. By the time they fade out, I'm lucky to spot a sparkle of cobalt blue amidst the green and grey.

A Loralite stone. I'm still surprised I can spot them from such a distance away; it's like I can feel its essence; its pull. I have yet to take one. I am long overdue.

As soon as I land, before I reach out for the rock, a thought rushes into my head. It's not the first one, but it says just the same: Em, are you there?

He sounds distant; desperate even, like he's given up hope. Instantly, tears well into my eyes. I can't answer him. I can't. I have nothing to say. John hates me; I know he does, and he has perfect reason to! God, what am I doing?

I ignore his voice and focus on the stone, more specifically the other one I want to go to: the one in Toronto. Canada. Home.

***

It looks exactly like I remember it. It's almost funny. All this time, I imagined it to be so different. But the castle-like structure is the same: big bricks, three windows, red garage, red door, single driveway—and a half. Both cars are in their places, the silver four-seater and the teal caravan.

I walk up the front steps and ring the bell, and only then does a heavy weight of nostalgia rush into me. I don't realize the way I'm holding my breath until it swings open.