Her fingers brushed through my hair, the way she used to when nightmares woke me as a child. "But I can't go back," she saidsoftly, sorrow and acceptance twined in every syllable. "And you... you can't stay, sweetheart. Not yet."
Tears blurred my vision. I clung to her like a drowning man, my heart tearing itself in two. "Please, Mom," I choked out. "I'm so tired. I don't know if I can do it anymore."
She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze glowing with warmth that no living light could ever match. "Youcan, my love. You already have. You've walked through fire and came out still capable of love. There's still light in you the world hasn't seen. There's someone down there who needs you."
I lifted my head, eyes blurred with tears. "December," I whispered.
Mom smiled through her tears. "Yes. The way you love her... it reaches even here."
The waterfall seemed to glow brighter, a pull in my chest like a heartbeat calling me home.
I whispered, my voice shaking. "It hurts so much. I need you too... I'm so tired of being alone."
Mom's eyes filled with infinite sorrow, but her smile stayed gentle. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, brushing her thumb across my cheek. "You are not alone. You never were. We've been beside you every step, even when you couldn't feel us. Our love for you doesn't end. It transcends everything, even death."
I swallowed hard, tears burning down my face. "Then why can't I stay? Just for a little while longer?"
Dad's voice came softly, deep and steady. "Because you still have something beautiful waiting for you, son. Someone who needs you just as much as you need her. The world hasn't finished with you yet."
Mom's hand lingered on my chest, right over my heart. "You've already done the hardest part, my love. You survived. Now... you have to live."
The words trembled through me, carving both pain and peace into my soul.
Then her voice shifted, faint and ethereal, like a whisper carried by wind and light. "We will meet again, when it's truly time."
They both pulled me into one last embrace. I tried to memorize everything—their warmth, their scent of sunlight and home, the steady rhythm of their hearts against mine. "Please don't leave me again," I begged, clutching at them.
Dad pressed a kiss to the top of my head. His voice cracked when he spoke. "We never left, Ryder. We never will. You carry us inside you. Every breath, every heartbeat—it's us too."
But even as he said it, their forms began to shimmer, fading like morning fog under sunlight.
"No..." I whispered, shaking my head, panic rising. "No, please!"
I reached out, but my hands passed through light.
"Mom!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "Mom, don't go! Please—please, Dad, I can't lose you again!"
I ran toward them, the fields stretching endlessly, their outlines dissolving the closer I came. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I kept running, chasing the shadows of the only people who'd ever felt like home.
"Wait!" I cried. "Just one more second! Please!"
But they were gone, just wind and color and light. I fell to my knees, breathless, my screams swallowed by the roaring waterfall and the silence that followed. For a moment, I thought the world would break with me. But the sky bled into white, the ground gave way, and the fields dissolved around me.
I gasped awake, the world slamming into me all at once—the sterile scent of antiseptic, the soft hum of machines, the weight of wires and tubes pressing against my skin. Pain surged like a slow tide, heavy and disorienting. My heart raced, and for a moment I couldn't tell if I was still in the fields or if I'd been ripped from them. But over the haze of panic, one thing remained clear: the echo of their words—Live, Ryder.
My eyes were open, blurred and stinging, and I felt utterly lost until a voice cut through the noise. Warm. Familiar. Divine.
"There they are," she whispered, relief spilling from her like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Those beautiful caramel eyes."
December.
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, my tongue heavy. Nothing came out but a rasp. Panic shot through me—was I paralyzed? Was I dying? The beeping of the monitor picked up, mirroring my racing heartbeat.
"Shh," December murmured, leaning closer. She pressed her forehead against mine, her breath trembling. One of her hands stroked through my hair, the other clutching mine tightly. Her lips brushed my knuckles before she whispered, "You're okay. You're safe."
Her voice cracked. She was trying to be strong, but I felt her shake.
A team of nurses and a doctor flooded into the room, moving quickly but calmly, checking monitors, adjusting tubes. Their voices blurred into a low hum of medical jargon, blood loss, transfusions, vital signs, wound care but their presence steadied the panic clawing at my chest.
