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"Remember, Milori, remember to be free and to love again. It’s time to stop haunting this border like a ghost."
"You too."
The queen of the warm seasons woke up in a sweat, her heart racing and her hands trembling. Again.
It had been exactly 400 years, 7 months, 30 days, 27 minutes, and 34 seconds since they had parted forever.
It was she who had established her new prison, where her heart would remain broken until she became just a simple star in the Milky Way of the Other World.
It had been exactly 400 years, 7 months, 29 days, 45 minutes, and 56 seconds since she had the same nightmare.
He, suffering like a martyr, tearing screams from his already battered heart, and then the next second, she had become just a stranger in the eyes of the one she had loved so much, with those few words as cutting as the claws of a hawk.
That sound, the plop, plop, plop, plop, incessant, a witness to the irreparable wound he had inflicted on himself out of love for her, the sound of a wing melting under heat too intense for a cold season fairy, haunted her memories, catching up with her at every little second of respite, leaving her no moment in peace with herself.
Always the same brutal awakening, the wrinkled sheets, sweat beading on her forehead creased with terror, her eyes wet with tears that gnawed at her cheeks, her breath erratic, her gaze racing around the room at a frantic speed, unable to find an anchor point.
He was her anchor point.
She closed her big blue eyes once more as she stood up, feverish, and crossed the room to the balcony.
The night was an intense black, with only the light of the moon and stars illuminating her face with a spectral glow. She took a deep breath as her eyes wandered once again over the vast landscape of the Valley. She leaned against the railing as the light breeze caressed her bare shoulders, sending a shiver through her.
In the distance, she once again saw the snow-capped peak of the kingdom of winter, the kingdom she had fallen in love with 400 years ago. The kingdom she had fallen in love with its ruler. The one who had saved her life during the final battle against the Nightmares.
The one who had sacrificed himself for her.
The one she thought she would never see again.
What caught her attention was a little snowflake that landed delicately beside her. It was pure white, like the light of the stars that had given birth to her. But she frowned.
Something was wrong.
Then, panicked, she changed at the speed of a shooting star, opting for her royal gown instead of her nightgown, along with a sweater made of beautifully woven spider silk, and flew in a whirlwind of fairy dust to the border, where autumn meets winter.
She felt anxiety rising in her as soon as she felt the biting cold of the cold land on her face, while other snowflakes, with their menacing air, lacerated her skin, making her feel a warm trickle running down her cheek.
Blood.
She pushed it aside for a moment, feeling her tears rising once again to her eyes as she helplessly watched the scene unfolding before her.
Dawn had risen as she flew toward this invisible barrier. That’s when she saw him.
For the first time in 400 years, 7 months, 31 days, 17 minutes, and 56 seconds, he stood there, guiding a young winter fairy toward the mountain. She painfully lowered her eyes and saw Tinker Bell, collapsed, crying in Vidia's arms.
Her heart could bear no more tears, so she felt it break a little more.
"Tinker Bell… this is not Lord Milori’s law… It is mine."
Her voice split the air in two as the young fairies looked up at her.
She forced herself not to look anywhere but at her heart daughters, afraid of crossing that frozen gaze she had long awaited, silently wished for.
So loved.
"Queen Clarion… Why?" the young tinkerer asked, a new wave of tears in her eyes, gnawing at her cheeks reddened by the cold.
The queen painfully closed her eyes.
"For the good of all, "replied the Lord of Winter, thus sparing the pain that Clarion's heart had been screaming at him for centuries.
She felt her hands trembling as her fairies flew away, engulfed in total incomprehension. She dared to glance at the border.
He looked her in the eyes, and she detected an immense cold there. She felt as if she were crashing at full speed into a wall, and crashing into it rather than passing through, as she had centuries ago.
Her heart pounding and tears ravaging her cheeks, she took flight again, turning her head and joining Tinker Bell in the hope of explaining the cause of her sorrow.
Days passed, the fairy valley froze, then there was a kiss. Then emptiness.
Once again.
She didn’t feel like she reached her chambers for hours, her brain spinning in circles, smoking, her cheeks lacerated by the cold wind whipping her face at full speed.
In the oppressive silence of her room, memories surged, like tumultuous waves. She relived the sunny days spent laughing with Milori, the sparkles in his azure eyes, and that silent promise they had made to each other, that of eternal love.
“Love is a star, Clarion. Even if it seems far away, it always shines,” he had whispered one evening as they gazed at the constellations.
But now, that star seemed to have disappeared, swallowed by the darkness of time and pain. She recalled the words of the Fairy Queen, a distant echo: “Love is a choice, and sometimes choosing is also letting go.” Each word resonated in her like a sad melody, a sweet reminder of what she had lost. As if loving was a crime in the time of Queen Elvina.
Maybe it was one, after all...
Clarion stood up, determined. She had to face her past, not only for herself but also for Tinker Bell and all those around her.
She could not accept the idea that he was gone, a second time.
An additional crack in her already too damaged heart.
She opened the window, letting in the fresh winter air, a breath of renewal. It was time to fight, to find her voice and bring back to life what she had thought lost. The queen of the warm seasons was not ready to abandon her kingdom, nor her heart. She promised to give Milori back what he had once offered her: the freedom to love again.
Days passed, and Clarion found herself at the border every night, watching the horizon, hoping to see the familiar silhouette of Milori.
She saw herself, 400 years earlier, in her little princess dress, lovesick for the one she thought was just another fairy among many.
Her heart tightened each time she remembered his sacrifice, the pain he had endured to save her.
"Why, Milori? Why did you have to bear this burden alone? "she repeated to herself, each question echoing like a cry in the silence of the night.
One evening, as the moon was full and bright, she felt a familiar presence. The wind carried with it a scent of snow and memories. She turned her head, and there, beyond the border, she saw him.
Milori, majestic and sad, stood there, his icy blue eyes fixed on her, as if he could pierce the veil of her wounded heart.
Maybe he could.
"Clarion, he murmured, his voice a sweet echo of past memories, you are here."
She felt drawn in by his words, by the intensity of his gaze.
"I am here, Milori. But I am lost, she replied, her voice trembling. I no longer know how to love without pain. Why? Why the silence... Why leave without saying anything..."
He approached slowly, each beat of his heart resonating like a drum in the silence.
"Love is a path filled with obstacles, but it is also the light that guides us, he said, his voice tinged with melancholy. I am sorry for all we have lost. You were my light, Clarion."
Clarion felt a wave of warmth wash over her, a deep connection that transcended time and space.
But she also felt the crushing weight of his last words:
You were my light.
"I didn’t want you to suffer for me," she confessed, tears in her eyes.
"And I didn’t want to lose you, he replied, moving even closer. Every day, I wondered if I could return, if I could repair what was broken. You were my light; you still are."
Their gazes met, and in that suspended moment, the world around them disappeared. The memories of their laughter, their battles, their promises resurfaced, filling the air with a sweet nostalgia, as cold as an autumn morning and as gentle as a spring afternoon.
"Milori... she murmured, her voice barely audible. I wake up every day hoping you are still there, somewhere, waiting... To... To love me..."
"And I will always love you," he replied, the pain of absence and the hope of the future intertwining in his words.
Then, in a surge of courage, she stepped toward him, crossing the invisible border that separated them, plunging for a moment into the almost fatal cold of winter that bit her skin. The distance between them vanished, and in a gentle, hesitant gesture, their lips met.
The kiss was both a farewell and a new beginning, a promise of freedom and love rediscovered. Clarion’s tears mingled with the falling snow as she felt the warmth of his love enveloping her being.
"We are no longer ghosts, "she murmured between kisses; we are alive.
Milori smiled, and in that magical moment, the stars seemed to shine more brightly, as if the sky itself celebrated their reunited bond.
He had kept his promise.
"Remember, Milori, remember to be free and to love again. It’s time to stop haunting this border like a ghost."
"You too."