Rowan watched on in stunned disbelief as his wife savagely beat Nikolaos within an inch of his life. She was moving far faster and hitting harder than any of the times the two siblings had fought previously, and the ferocity of her attack could not be understated. The whole time she was screaming and cursing about how much she hated her old family and wished unspeakable harm on them for what they did to her new one.

  Which made him realise just how much she must have been holding herself back to prevent hurting their now newly born child. A child that he hoped was safe and healthy, but with Lexie’s current display of rage it felt an inopportune time to ask. Rowan also worried that she was pushing herself far too hard far too soon after giving birth with weeks of minimal rest on top of that. However he wasn’t currently in a position to ask her to stop considering it was his failure that made her intervention necessary.

  While Lexie was busy working through her anger, Rowan slowly and carefully moved the earth away from his crushed foot. After that was done he pumped in wood qi to the damaged region. He had to grit his teeth as everything shifted back to an approximation of their proper place, but it was a marked improvement even if the broken bones and torn flesh would take time he didn’t have to fully mend.

  Rowan was then able enough to begin hobbling over to his enraged wife.

  As he moved closer he saw some of the anger drain from her features and some tears fell as she stopped raining blows upon her brother.

  “Why’re you doing this Nik?” She asked, sounding so incredibly tired. “I know we weren’t close, but threatening my family because I dared to make a home for myself is a new low, even for you.”

  From the slab of bruised meat that was Nikolaos came a pained chuckle and reply. “I always hated it when you called me that.”

  He coughed and wheezed for a few moments before continuing. “And I do what I must for the same reason I do anything. For the same cause you abandoned.”

  Rowan felt energy being drawn from the earth.

  “For the glory of House Petros.”

  Then the bastard detonated his core.

  ***

  Willow sat in silence, waiting for her father to continue speaking. To tell her that somehow her mother had survived the blast. That she had left on a secret journey, and Willow would get to meet her soon. Some shred of hope that her missing parent was still somehow alive.

  But she knew the answer. She had known the end of the tale before her father had begun it.

  Her Ma died from that explosion.

  Before it had been knowledge in the abstract. Her mother was dead. Yet the only memory she had of her was a vague recollection of a feeling that might be real. That wasn’t enough to go off of, and with no one willing to speak about her aside from a few scant anecdotes, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her mother was like.

  Now she had more context. Ideas of how she talked, acted, struggled.

  A collage of moments of who the woman that would’ve raised her could have been like.

  Would she have taught her to read and write?

  Would they have talked about their favorite stories?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  What food would she have made for her family?

  Would Willow have flown through the air in her mother’s arms, confident that she would be safe?

  Combined with the raw feeling of her father’s grief it became too much.

  Willow began sobbing, holding on to her father tightly.

  He held her back and the two rode the waves of their grief together.

  At the height of the two’s emotions the mirror in Rowan’s hand began to shine.

  Through tear-blurred eyes Willow looked down at the shining memento in confusion, with her father doing the same.

  After she wiped her eyes free of tears she was able to clearly see the face of an unfamiliar woman. Though that wasn’t quite true, as her features echoed certain aspects of her siblings. She had Yew’s green eyes and prominent cheekbones, mixed with Maple’s nose and curly hair. Her face looked achingly familiar and yet was completely unknown to the girl.

  Her father whispered a name and confirmed her suspicions. “Lexie.”

  His thumb stroked the side of the mirror in a way the girl had often seen him do while he had been telling his story, but with the image of the woman tiredly smiling on the object's face it felt strangely intimate in a way it hadn’t before. Like he was reuniting with her mother after spending years apart, which Willow supposed was true in a way.

  After several moments of just staring at the image he turned it so that his daughter could get a better look. “This is how I remember your mother’s face when she passed. It’s been so long now that I don’t know if this is how she truly looked, but it’s the expression I imagine whenever I think of her final moment.”

  Willow joined her father in gazing at the image of her mother, trying to imprint it in her mind so she could always remember her mother’s face.

  However the moment couldn’t last forever, and one of Willow’s friends chose to gently interrupt.

  “That is a newly formed metal spirit, child, you should bind them if possible.” Harmony softly called from within her space.

  “They are?” Willow sent back, though a quick check with her senses confirmed her friend's words.

  “They seem to be a nascent Reflection, an uncommon spirit type, but more importantly quite short lived unless supplied with qi. So I would hurry if I were you.” Her friend urged.

  She didn’t want to interrupt this moment with her Da, but understood that she would be unlikely to find another weak metal spirit like the one in front of her. So Willow sent a thread of qi to the image in the mirror, unbeknownst to her father.

  “Would you be my friend?” The girl asked the reflection, snapping Rowan out of his melancholic remembrance of past moments.

  The image lifted off of the mirror and shifted to one of Willow herself giving a gap toothed grin, showing the spirit’s agreement to the question asked. They then settled in the space newly formed near the base of the girl's spine.

  Her father gave her a sad, but knowing smile. “You could’ve given me some warning, sprout.”

  She gave a quiet apology. “Sorry Da, Harmony said they’d disappear soon if I didn’t do something.”

  “Figured it’d be something like that.” He said with a sigh.

  “I could bring them out again? They could even maybe show Ma if we asked.”

  She could feel the temptation in the core of his being, but he eventually shook his head. “Not tonight. I think not for a while, actually.”

  Willow was saddened by that answer, especially because she felt she may have ruined a special bonding moment with her father as they mourned her mother together. At that thought an idea came to her, a way to memorialize her mother forever.

  “Da, I’ve been naming my spirits after heroes from my stories.” She quietly said. “Would it be all right if I named my new friend after Ma?”

  She both felt and saw her father’s surprise at the question, and a soft smile spread across his face, almost hidden by his bushy beard.

  “I think she’d like that.”

  She wouldn’t call her new friend the name her mother left behind, and Lexie was the name her mother claimed all her own. So she took what was left for her spirit.

  She brought out the reflection spirit and gazed into their mirrored surface.

  “Your name is now Xandra.”

  The smiling face of Willow was mirrored by her new friend. Happy to be named.

  So the night of reflection came to a close.