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As Pearl stirred awake, the soft crash of waves and the weight of memory pulled her gently from sleep.
Blinking against the rising sun, the memories of last night spilled over her like the tide — returning from the North, reuniting with Gem after what felt like forever, and Scar and Grian finally — finally — getting together after enough pining to make a bard sick.
It was no wonder none of them had managed to make it back to the treetop village.
Instead, they’d collapsed here on the beach, a loose patchwork of tangled limbs and sun-warmed blankets, breathing in peace they had fought so hard to earn.
Pearl shifted slightly, feeling the familiar, comforting weight of Gem in her arms.
Her girlfriend’s soft, flaming curls brushed against her cheek, tickling her skin as the sunrise bled gold and rose across the sky, painting the world in light
Pearl exhaled, slow and content, and let herself take it all in.
Across the beach, she spotted the crew in similar situations.
Tango, Jimmy, and Scott snoring in a pile of sand and arms. Etho and Bdubs, out cold side by side. Joel and Lizzie sprawled half-on, half-off a blanket. Scar and Grian, still holding hands even in sleep.
Farther off, Skizz, Impulse, and Zedaph were already awake, whispering in low voices, laughter barely contained behind cupped hands, trying not to disturb the others.
Pearl smiled. Ran her fingers slowly through Gem’s hair.
They’d have to get up soon. The beach needed to be cleaned up — lanterns and fairy lights still clinging to the palm trees, plates and cups left abandoned in the sand, most of it scavenged from the old avian village.
Her chest warmed. She hadn’t set foot on this island in almost twenty years — not since she’d gotten captured at eight years old, all scraped knees and bright-eyed mischief taken far from home.
Going back to the village today made her heart race in a way she wasn’t ready to name.
A quiet sigh stirred against her chest.
Gem blinked awake, looking up at her with a sleepy smile that made Pearl’s breath catch.
Void, she loved her.
"Good morning," Gem murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
Pearl grinned and whispered back, "Well, good morning, sunshine."
Gem yawned and nuzzled into her for a second longer before squinting at the sky. "What time is it?"
Pearl laughed quietly, rolling her eyes fondly. "What, you think I’ve got a clock hidden in the sand or something?"
Gem let out a breathy chuckle and swatted at her half-heartedly.
Turning over, she propped herself up on her elbows, blinking toward the debris-strewn beach.
Pearl whined, reaching for her again. "Hey, lie back dooown. Can’t we stay like this a little longeeer?"
"No, Pearl," Gem said, giving her a teasingly stern look. "Look at this place. It's a disaster! We’ve gotta clean up before we can cuddle."
"But Geeeem," Pearl drawled dramatically.
"Nope! Get up."
With another eye-roll — this one half affection, half mourning for her lost snuggle time — Pearl threw the blanket aside and pushed herself upright, sand sticking to her arms and legs.
Around them, the rest of the crew was slowly stirring too, stretching and groaning, dragging themselves back into motion.
The party was over. The real world was creeping back in.
Eventually, their efforts found some rhythm, and the chaos of cleaning began to look a little more organized.
It was decided that Pearl, Grian, and Gem would take the dirty dishes back to the village and wash them properly in one of the treehouse kitchens.
“So… where is the village, actually?” Pearl asked, shifting the plates in her arms. Despite it being her childhood home, twenty years was a long time to be away — long enough for the familiar paths to fade from memory.
“It’s just this way, don’t you worry, dear sister,” Grian said, his tone unbearably smug. The smaller avian looked entirely too pleased with himself, feathers puffed up with pride.
Pearl pouted, crossing her arms tightly as her aural feathers twitched in irritation. “You don’t have to be so smug about it! It’s not like I got kidnapped on purpose! ”
Gem burst into laughter at the siblings' bickering.
Grian only smirked, tossing his hair out of his face dramatically. "What, like you're special? I got captured too, you know!"
"Alright, you two, break it up," Gem said, still giggling as she turned and started walking toward the jungle, a precarious stack of plates balanced in her hands. "I'll go on ahead if you can't behave."
Grumbling good-naturedly, Grian and Pearl hurried to follow her, their own stacks of dirty dishes clattering slightly with each step.
They trekked through the dense greenery, passing a fallen tree softened with moss, stepping carefully over a winding river, and climbing a low hill blanketed in ferns.
At the top, Grian pushed aside a thick curtain of vines and leaves — and revealed a break in the jungle.
Pearl's breath caught.
There it was.
Just as she remembered it.
The village rose like a dream from the trees, high in the canopy where the world was green and golden.
Towering trunks cradled homes shaped from wood and woven vines, each connected by narrow rope bridges that swayed gently in the breeze.
Lanterns hung from branches, their glass dulled with age but still catching the morning light. Macaw feathers — bright red, blue, and yellow — fluttered alongside them, and wild vines wound through railings and rafters, half claiming the structures back into the jungle.
It still looked so full of life. It was incredible.
Without a word, Grian spread his wings and grabbed a few plates from Pearl and Gem before taking off, soaring easily up into the village.
Pearl stayed on the ground, walking beside Gem as they made their way up the winding staircase carved into the nearest tree.
She tried not to let her gaze linger too long on her brother as he flew.
She couldn't help it, though — a pang bloomed deep in her chest.
When she was little, she’d flown just as easily.
But after her capture, after the bindings... her wings had never healed properly. Her primaries hadn't grown back the same, and now she could barely get a few meters off the ground.
She’d always kept them hidden due to the hybrid hostility in the North. That had the added bonus of making it easier not to think about it.
But now, with the Watchers gone, there was no reason to hide them. Of course, there was still prejudice toward hybrids, but it didn’t come in the form of a cult in charge of a powerful kingdom, so it was less dangerous.
Pearl hadn't told Grian any of that yet.
And judging by the glance he sent her — a flicker of worry, quickly masked — he was starting to notice.
Pearl offered Gem a small smile, nodding toward her as if to say I just didn’t want to leave her alone, which, to be fair, wasn't entirely a lie.
Together, the three of them crossed a creaking bridge and slipped into one of the treehouses, arms full of dishes and memories.
Pearl was halfway through stacking the plates neatly on the counter when a thought hit her like a stone.
She froze, her heart lurching.
"Hey, G," she said casually. "Where’s Mom?"
Grian went stiff.
The air seemed to freeze, heavy and cold despite the morning sun pouring through the windows.
Gem sensed it too. She glanced between the two siblings, her smile slipping away.
Grian exhaled slowly and turned toward Pearl, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
"...You might want to sit down, Pearl."
Oh.
Somewhere deep down, she'd suspected.
The fact that Grian had never once mentioned their mother, never even slipped her name into a story, had planted a slow, aching fear inside her.
But hope had been stubborn.
Hope had whispered that maybe — maybe — it was just an oversight. That maybe he’d just forgotten.
Pearl swallowed hard and nodded, setting down the plates with trembling hands.
She crossed the room in a few steps and sat down heavily at the kitchen counter, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.
Grian sat down beside her, the bench creaking softly under his weight.
Without hesitation, he reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently.
“I should’ve told you earlier. I’m sorry, Pearl,” he said, his voice low. “It’s just... there’s been a lot going on, I guess.”
Pearl nodded.
That was true — and it wasn’t like she blamed him anyway.
He couldn't have changed anything.
Probably.
Gem slid down onto the bench beside her on the other side, sandwiching Pearl between them.
“She... it was a long time ago now,” Grian said, his thumb brushing absently over her knuckles. “When I was sixteen.”
Pearl blinked. Sixteen.
She did the math automatically.
Grian was twenty-four now, five years younger than her.
That meant their mother had passed away eight years ago — while Pearl was still running around with the rebels in the North.
“She’d been ill for a while,” Grian continued, staring down at the floorboards. His wings drooped slightly behind him. “I wasn’t— I really tried, believe me. She taught me how to make the medicine and everything, but I— I couldn’t get it to her fast enough, and—”
His voice broke, cracking like dry wood.
Pearl’s chest ached.
She wordlessly unfurled one of her wings and wrapped it around him, pulling him closer. At the same time, she squeezed his hand tightly.
Grian took a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep going.
“After that... it was just me. Burying her was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and unmovable.
Pearl said nothing at first, letting the weight of it settle between them, her heart breaking all over again — not just for herself, but for the brother who had been left behind.
Finally, she whispered, “It’s not your fault.”
She meant it, with every fiber of her being.
He’d done what he could.
He shouldn’t have had to do it alone.
“Thank you for telling me,” she added, her voice rough around the edges.
And then the three of them folded into each other — a quiet, desperate kind of hug, all tangled limbs and crumpled feathers.
A small, fragile attempt to patch over the cracks that time and loss had left behind.
They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing in the scent of old wood and morning air, holding onto each other like they might somehow stitch the missing pieces back together.
Eventually, the three of them got up, the weight of the conversation still lingering between them, but soon laughter and easy chatter filled the kitchen as they returned to washing dishes, grateful simply to have each other.