"So you feed the creature and it considers people off the eating slab?" Momma asks, a tick starting right below her eyebrow despite her placid voice.

I shrug. "Yeah. And I’ve got Hans on it for now, but I’ll need to visit the creature and make sure he’s keeping his end of the bargain."

"Aria—" something about her tone makes me glance up from where I was tracing a flower pattern in the white coverlet. "Dragons take bargains seriously. They cannot lie. If you hold to this, he will hold to his word. But if you break your word—"

I wince. Grand. Another creature to please. "I won’t, so long as my so-called fortune can keep up with feeding the thing. He eats more than all of Lower combined."

"Just be careful," she says, patting my hand.

I crack a smirk. "Always am."

She shakes her head, playfully pinching my hand. I hide a wince, but her keen eyes catch it. "You need to apologize to your Gift."

"Ran said the same thing," I grumble.

"She’ll be understanding. Just explain to her what happened and why. She needs you. You need her. It’s high time you accepted yourself in all your beauty, hon."

I shake my head, rubbing at my chest when it feels like a pit is yawning open in my soul. "How do I achieve such a thing when, with one breath, I could decimate this entire city?"

Momma leans back in her chair, understanding lighting her face. "It’s not anger or disbelief. It’s fear," she breathes, voice soft. She leans forward. "Aria, look at me." I glance up. You don’t disobey that tone. "Do you trust me? If I told you to jump into the darkest pit, would you do it?"

I nod without thinking. "Absolutely. I know you’d have a reason."

"Darling, do you trust Ran? Would you eat an oyster if she told you to?"

I pull a face, but nod, nearly gagging. Oysters are the worst, so gooey and snot-like. "Yeah," I choke out.

Momma’s face softens, and she leans forward, cupping my cheek. "You need to trust yourself. You are a brave, bold, intelligent, courageous, kind-hearted woman with a soul of pure spun gold and a mind sharper than steel. You bring nations to their knees and follow after The King with pure, child-like faith. It’s time you put that faith into yourself and know that you are beautiful and will do what needs done when the time is right."

I glance away, unable to hold the understanding in her gaze. "But what if I fail? What if I make a mistake?"

"It’s time you stopped worrying about trying to be perfect and started taking the trust you put in other, imperfect, beautiful beings and placed it on yourself. There is no way you will not fail. But there is only one thing that would make you a failure. And what is that?"

I peek up at her. "Not trying at all?"

She gives a sharp nod. "You’ve got it, hon. You’ve got the power to change this world as we know it. You’ve got the power to save this entire nation and perhaps even alter the course of history. That is not a fantasy, that is fact. This Gift you have was meant for such a time as this. It’s time you realized just how important you are and treated yourself with as much kindness as you do everyone else." She leans forward, kissing my hair. "It’s time for you to blaze, hon. It’s time for you to light up the sky and show those poppycocks what Risia is made of."

My heart thumps in my chest. I can’t tell if it’s excitement… or terror. Whatever it is, my mind jumps from one thing to the next, and I realize I’ve been reacting. Whatever La’Maciogo does, I’ve merely been pushing back, trying to hold back the tide all by myself after they broke the dam. But now—now it’s time to take the fight to them and redirect the water where I want it to go.

It’s time to build a river to the ocean.

I peek inside me. To the hole where my Gift lay. And I peel back the layers, reaching in even when it feels like my skin is being pulled back from my fingers. And that’s when I see her.

She looks… like me.

But kinda ghostly.

Which is really odd. Her long, blonde hair flows unbound around her head, as if she were in water, with streaks of silver highlights pulsing softly through the strands. Her eyes are the blue of the ocean, vast and nearly unknowable. They hold pain and sorrow and joy and courage and hate and pain. So, so many things. So many they are nearly indistinguishable, yet I know them because I've felt them. Because I see them. I see her. I know her.

As much as I thought it was seperate from me... she's not. She's part of me. An important part. In dismissing her--it's like I've been trying to cut off my arm. I just... never realized I've been dismissing something so integral.

Her nose is straight whereas I know my own is slightly crooked, but her chin is kinda pointy and her lips are a little too thin. But otherwise her cheeks are full, her nose is cute and pert, and her eyes are wide and enchanting.

When I look at her—I see myself as I should be. And it's so easy to compare all my imperfect glory compared to her near-perfection… it nearly makes me sink into a pit of despair. And I realize I hate myself.

That will not change now… but I can do this. This small thing. And I can mean it, because really and truly, in my heart of hearts, I know what I did was wrong. I hurt her, and myself, in the time when understanding, compassion, and kindness were needed.

"I’m so sorry," I say softly, blowing out a breath and bowing my head.

The one before me doesn’t talk, but she cocks her head, and I can feel her question like an emblem emblazed on my soul. Why?

"Because I was scared. You saved me, but I couldn’t have you killing a friend because I was in danger. I had to stop you. If I could go back—" I blink, and she’s standing before me, her eyes looking into my own. I slowly raise my hand, and she reaches out her palm. We stand, palm to palm, mirror images, with one side perfect, and the other... not.

The blackness around us swirls, slowly dissipating and bringing the lush greenery of my inner garden and the soul tree to bare.

I blink open my physical eyes and the feeling of my skin being too tight and the hole in my soul slowly dissipates, leaving me exhausted and nearly wrung dry, but for once, content.

My eyes feel heavy and the last thing I feel are Momma’s warm hands holding my own and her voice singing as she pushes my sweaty hair behind my ear and kisses my forehead.