“I told her about the prophecy, yes,” he replied softly. “She died before I knew it was you, though. She died before you chose your new name or... anything.”
“I know,” Florian sighed, leaning back. She had died when he was still a toddler. He had always known that. August had told him a little about her, fleeting bits and pieces of his sister that Florian now knew must have been purposely vague. He had always thought maybe the memory of her was too painful for August to discuss, but now he wondered if he didn’t know what to say without saying too much. But still he felt like he knew next to nothing about her, not even enough to form an image of her face in his mind. “Do you have a picture of her?”
“Not with me,” Jerah replied, a tiny, sad smile at the corners of his lips and the edges of his eyes. “But there are some portraits of her back home, in the Veil.”
Was he really about to agree to all this? Florian bit his lip, suddenly feeling more foolish than he could ever recall feeling in his life. There was no way any of this could be true. But he couldn't deny the yearning in his heart, crying out that he had always known that he was an outsider—that he was meant for something bigger, greater. And he could see a picture of his mother, could finally know what she looked like... Even that would be enough. Everything else might be a cruel trick, but if he could see a picture of his mother, then maybe that would be enough.
“Okay,” he said hoarsely, before clearing his throat. “I'll... I'll go with you.” He held up a hand quickly before Jerah could say anything, his father already perking up next to him with bright eyes and a wide grin. “But only to check it out. I'm not... I'm not agreeing to going on this quest or talking to a witch or anything, alright? I just want to... see it. I want to see my mom.”
“Thank you,” Jerah said breathlessly, the earnestness in his voice taking Florian by surprise. “You don't know how much that means to me, Florian. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” He moved his hands toward Florian slightly, then paused. “God, I just—I really want to hug you right now. Could I give you a hug?”
Florian felt his face redden with heat, and he turned away. Part of him wanted to say no, but itwashis father. “Okay,” he muttered, barely audible, as he leaned a bit closer to Jerah.
One arm came around his shoulders, tugging him closer to the older man. Florian kept his arms stiffly at his sides, pointedly looking anywhere but toward Jerah or the other two men. But even at the awkward angle of his one-armed side hug, there was a strange familiarity in Jerah’s warm frame that made Florian’s pounding heart slow a bit, if just for a moment. Jerah pressed his lips to the top of Florian's head—not quite a kiss, but a soft gesture of affection that lasted only an instant, before Jerah released him from his grasp and settled back into his own chair. When Florian nervously glanced back at him, the older man's eyes were watery with emotion.
“Thank you,” Jerah said again, picking his ice cream back up and shoving another spoonful into his mouth.
Across from him, August seemed to visibly relax into his seat for the first time, sighing softly. Florian raised an eyebrow at him, but it took a long moment before the other man replied, visibly gathering his thoughts.
“I'm glad you're going,” August finally said, his voice surprisingly tremulous. “It's... It's important for you to see where you're from. Your homeland. You deserve to know it.”
“I still don't know if I believe any of this,” Florian muttered, shaking his head. Next to him, Jerah chuckled. “But if this all turns out to really be true, Uncle August, I'm going to be pissed you kept such a big secret from me for so long.”
A chagrined smile spread across his uncle's face, and to Florian's own surprise he felt relieved. August had been so tense and nervous, so unlike his usual self, that the hint of his normal, easygoing-if-awkward demeanor was a welcome reprieve.
“I know how all this must sound, Florian, but I assure you it is all perfectly real,” Jerah said next to him, most of his ice cream now gone. “We'll head out tomorrow. Let's plan to leave first thing in the morning, it's a bit of a drive.”
“A drive?” Florian repeated. “How do we get there?”
“As unbelievable as it might seem,” Jerah said, grinning over at him. “The nearest safe curtain into the Veil is at the peak of a mountain on Catalina Island.”
