The One

Private planes

After Zanna left, Izar got back on schedule. He retrieved two beaded bracelets from somewhere under his cloak and handed them to the siblings. The beads were all sandstone-colored spheres except one that was deep green in color and shaped like a leaf.

"What is it for?" Waylon asked, knowing Izar would not simply give them an accessory for no reason.

"This is a communicative device," Izar explained, "For emergencies only. If you need to reach me in circumstances where sending a familiar is not possible, simply pinch the leaf while thinking of the message you want to send. It will reach me immediately."

"Can anyone else use it?" Feray asked, eyeing the bracelet with curiosity.

"Nice sense you've got there, dearie," Izar voiced with a glint in his eyes. "Most items in Refica are exclusive, this one included—even if you and your brother accidentally switched bracelets, it wouldn't work."

With Zanna's help, the siblings redecorated the house, changing the study to another bedroom. Since the mailbox was in the original bedroom, Feray took that room and Waylon occupied the newer one. She'd asked Bentley to "write and write often", but she knew that he would not actually have much to say unless she wrote first.

But they'd only seen each other earlier that same day, so she did not have much to say either. In the end, if only to test out the otherworldly mailbox, she wrote a letter to her parents and placed it in the box.

Now that's done, all that's left for tonight is—

Before she even finished the thought, there came a singular knock on her window. She drew open the curtains by just a slit and peeped outside. A pair of silver eyes came into view. She opened the curtains completely and then opened the window as well.

Izar reached out to her with a hand and a smirk. "Are we ready?"

If this was Peter Pan, the next thing that happens would be us flying across the sky to Neverland. Feray thought, prompted by the view of Izar standing with the moonlight behind him. The scenery was picturesque, and in her opinion, belonged to a movie. Does he even know about Peter Pan? Well...that story is probably absurd to witches.

She took his hand. "Of course."

There was no flying—this was Izar Quartermaine after all; of course they would end up standing in the middle of the petrifying bridge the next second. This time, Feray was a little more prepared, but still nearly caught off guard by how unstable it was.

Not to mention they were quite literally at the center of the bridge. Even if she wanted to head to either side, she couldn't possibly choose which.

Regardless, Feray held on tight to the rope railings on either side and looked up at Izar, who didn't seem to be about to rattle the bridge this time. "What are you going to tell me?" she asked.

"Impatient, are we?" Izar voiced instead. His smile seemed brighter tonight, a stronger veil than ever before—yet he took off his hood. These mixed signals sent Feray's mind into a confused spiral. Ignoring her baffled expression, he continued. "What kind of place do you think this is?"

"Huh?"

That was a good question, she realized. She looked around. Everything seemed the same as it had been the last time she was here—even the moon seemed to be in the exact same position. Just as it had been in her previous visit, she couldn't make out what lay on either side of the bridge except that they were cliffs; the same went for the river underneath.

"You wanted to know me so to be fair," Izar said, "There aren't very many things I can tell you at the moment—most won't make any sense until you learn of witchcraft yourself. But I'll tell you this one thing: this is my animorbis."

She caught on quickly. He knew she would. It didn't take more than a couple sentences to explain to her what an animorbis was, and the changes in her expressions told the rest of the story. As he had expected, Feray spent another minute observing her surroundings, now in a new perspective. Frankly, his animorbis was a simple enough design that it didn't take much to understand what it meant for the state of his heart. After his encounter with Odessa, Izar wanted some sort of reassurance that his hopes weren't what she claimed them to be: void.

It all depended on Feray's reaction. It was perhaps a gamble on his part: if Odessa was right, everything could end right here, right now for him. Since he hadn't abducted Feray's soul and they were both here in their physical bodies—as they should be under normal circumstances since animorbis were pocket dimensions and not dreams—if his animorbis was torn to shreds, they would both die.

But then again, if he was wrong and Odessa was right, it didn't matter.

The question was this: when her gaze returned from exploration to him, would it be one of sympathy or excitement? Would she think him pitiful and give up on pushing him for more information, or would she use his weakness to gain more out of him? Izar had a feeling that it would be neither—but what would it be then?

The answer came a few minutes later. Feray turned back to him, still looking a little confused—and this made him confused in return. Of all reactions, he didn't imagine puzzlement to be the one she'd give.

"This is crucial information, isn't it?" she asked, "Why would you tell me that one month into our relationship?"

"...That's the first thing you say?"

"What else would I say?" She threw the question back at him. "You're a person with history; anyone can tell. But you're not the type to sit at home and cry all day either. Up to now, everything you've done has been with purpose, even if you don't tell us what that is. I think it makes a lot of sense for me to think that this decision too serves a purpose." Feray paused there, casting her gaze down at the gaps between planks for a moment before hastily looking back up. "If what you say is true, your animorbis doesn't have too much detail. It's a brittle bridge hanging on two cliffs. Every time we come here, we land right in the middle—so if the bridge fails, we die. And if this is the state of your heart, you're supposed to be weak too. If you didn't have a logical reason to, why would you tell me that?"

Izar let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. A bolt of lightning struck across the sky.

Then, he smiled, without meaning to. "I'm glad," he said. "...but I'm curious about one thing: when you say I'm 'supposed to be weak', what exactly do you mean?"

Supposed to. That typically meant he wasn't.

"Hm." She thought for a moment. "Actually, I take that back."

"Hm?"

"Vulnerable doesn't mean weak."

"I see."

Izar didn't tell her more that night, but for one night, she felt that she'd learned enough. It didn't mean she could trust him now, she reminded herself. Even if he showed her his anirmobis—which was modeled after his psyche—it wasn't very meaningful; she didn't know the story behind it.

And everyone has some sort of past anyway. It's just that I haven't had a life myself, she thought.

"What did the woman do to you with the diamond?" Feray asked, while they were still safe within Izar's dimension.

"Took me to her animorbis."

"Your soul only?"

Izar nodded. "Just so you know, that's not normal. Anyway, that's enough for one night, isn't it?"

He reached out to her again. This time, she did not attempt to pull any tricks. She placed her hand in his, and a moment later, she was back at her window and he was back outside.

"Oh, before I forget," Feray said, then took off the watch on her wrist—the one Waylon had given to her. "My brother gave this to me in Hominum. Can I use it here as well?"

"A map, isn't it?" Izar identified as he took it from her. He eyed it for a moment then shifted his gaze back to her. "With a few adjustments, yes. I'll deal with it."

"Thanks!"

"Then, I'll get going. Goodnight, dearie," he said with a smile, and walked away before she could respond.

Something tells me his smile is a little more genuine tonight. Did I do something right? Feray wondered.