Snowflakes glittered like frozen stars under the white light of Bertrand's dragons. The gentle twinkling of the harp sprinkled through the air while the slow whines of the violin gave the pixies a melody for their dance through the ever falling snowflakes. From behind the dressing tent curtains, Leanna watched them weave in and out through the snow, marking the tent sky with a magical waltz of light and forgiveness.

Lowering her sights, she slid her gaze along the chattering audience. Mesmerized by the display of lights, they sat waiting for the night's performance, unknowing of all that had happened earlier in the day. No traces of death and metal remained, the scent of smoke and death replaced by the freshness of the twirling snow.

Leanna let the curtain close and turned back to the gathered troupe that lined up as if a curse still bound them to the canvas. Forgiveness had come; the proof of it dusted the ground and fell continuously over the circus. Yet they all remained willingly for one last show—one final performance and then the snows would lead them home.

Leanna's emotions dampened. Gleeful chatter of returning to Forever had dominated all talk from the moment she'd stepped from her tent to see the field clouded in white and the performers spinning like children amongst the falling snow. The talk was no different now as she made her way down the troupe. Many spoke wistfully of their mother's cooking, or their spouses' smiles, of who they would see first, of the many places they would go... and of how they would never forget one another.

While Leanna understood their joy, a slight of sadness found a home in her soul as she reached her spot at the end of the line. She wanted more than anything to go to Forever, where things would be different. Yes, that had been her choice, yet, it became evident very quickly that while the circus' fate had rested in her hands, they were all free now... free to go their separate ways, to their homes and their families. After that night's performance, Finvarra's Circus would be no more.

Leanna pressed a trembling hand to her core. She was supposed to be gaining things. Why did it feel like she was losing things, too?

"Your cheeks match your dress," Kioyo whispered in her ear, coming up alongside her while ruffling the red feathers of her dance dress. The snow dampened his hair and black strands clung to his forehead. "Nervous?" he asked her, golden eyes gleaming under the white fire and glittering snow.

Leanna shrugged weakly, giving him her most stable smile. Brushing the damp strands away from his face, the knot at her stomach tightened and her smile bowed to a frown. Of all the things she was set to lose, it was this gentle soul beneath her fingers that rivaled whatever joy she'd gained that day.

"You will do fine," Kioyo rallied mistakenly, gripping her shoulders and shaking her gently with each word. "You accomplished what you set out to do for our best. We have been forgiven. Now it is time for you to dance for you."

"And for you," she admitted quietly. "I owe you this dance."

Kioyo cocked his head, brows furrowed. "For me?"

Swallowing the ache in her throat, Leanna nodded. "I ruined my performance after we worked so hard. You were angry and didn't even look at me afterwards. And don't tell me you weren't angry," she said quickly. "I saw it on your face."

Kioyo took in a breath to speak, but in the end said nothing.

"See," she said, her frown deepening. She pinned her attention on the drooping yellow flower at his waistcoats pocket just above his heart. She knew she had upset him by not dancing, but to confirm it hurt. Fiddling with the flower that seemed to share in her sentiments, she added, "And I never got to apologize."

Kioyo covered her hand with his, stilling her restless fingers above his heart. "You don't owe me this, Leanna. I admit, at first I was angry that you didn't cross the rope and finish your dance. But then..." He paused and tilted her head up to his. "But then I realized that I always pushed you to do things for yourself, regardless of what your duty was. By not crossing the rope, you did."

Leanna made to speak, but his hands came upon her forearms gently. "You stuck by what you believed in. You risked the wrath of the Ringmaster, the wrath of this troupe because you believed you could free us all. That is bravery, and I couldn't be more proud of you. I'm just sorry I was too foolish to realize it before."

She knew he would say something as such, and while the words were meant to soothe her, it made everything all the more worse. Blowing out a shuddering breath, she denied the tears that smeared everything around her.

"What's this now? Sadness, when snow falls upon our heads?" Kioyo asked, cupping her chin. "No, no, we can't have that, my Queen. I told you I wasn't angry, silly girl." A small smile crept onto his face. While beautiful, sadly it was not contagious.

Leanna lifted her lashes to the calming brown eyes that bore into hers. "It's not about that," she murmured, blinking back emotion. "And please don't call me that. I am not your Queen."

"Yes, but it's only a matter of time before everyone calls you such."

"But never you," she said, her tone harsher than she intended. "Promise me you never will call me that. They can," she gestured out to the troupe lined before them, "but not you."

Kioyo's hand fell away from her face slowly. "What is going on, Leanna?" He slid a careful, scrutinizing gaze along her, and by and by all color drained from his face. "Do you... do you regret your decision to come to Forever?" he asked lowly, carefully.

"No, heavens no, never that," Leanna assured him. "This is bigger than anything I ever expected, but... no, I don't regret it. I wanted a new life. I wanted things to change, but..." She hugged herself against the sudden loneliness that waited on the fringes of her confession. "But it's just the more I think about leaving this world, the more I am scared everything will change."

She watched Kioyo try to understand this, his eyes narrowing under knitted brows.

Sighing, she shook her head and waved a hand airily. "Forget it. Don't mind me. It seems I didn't only lose my heart, but all sense as well. Forget I said anything at all."

When she made to move away, warm hands came upon her shoulders, staying her retreat. "Tell me what is wrong, Leanna. We are friends, are we not?"

"We are, and that is what frightens me most of all," she admitted, no longer able to deny it. "You have proven yourself and have been forgiven and redeemed. And I am so very happy for you. You are free to go home, and probably wish to forget all that's happened, but..."

"But," he encouraged her quietly, tilting his head to get a better look at her.

Leanna looked at him. Snow fell freely over his head, a much deserved coldness that warmed her heart. She could not lie to him. Not there, with truth and forgiveness dusting their feet in white, and the crossbars of the dressing tent freezing in the cooler temperatures of a waiting world.

"But if I could ask for one thing to be frozen in this cold and snow... can it be us?" Rubbing the feathers of her skirts to keep her hands from trembling, she asked him, "Regardless of what has changed and will change, let us remain the same. Can I ask this of you, not as the order of a Queen, but the request of a friend?" She trailed off, her voice no longer serving its purpose.

Kioyo gazed at her for several moments where the silence ate at her composure and she wished she could take it all back.

Shaking his head, Kioyo massaged the back of his neck roughly. "I don't know if I should be angry or offended that you would ask that of me," he began, each word a dagger to Leanna's soul.

"I know," she said, guiltily. "You probably want to forget this circus and all that has happened—"

"That you feel the need to ask this of me..." he said over her, silencing her coming apology.

Leanna lifted her eyes to the mix of disbelief and mischief in Kioyo's stare. He chuckled then and pulled her into a gruff embrace. And he held her, his support leaving her without air and the scent of coffee pacifying the ghostly poundings of a phantom heart.

"You never need to ask that of me, Leanna. I am here and will be here when you need me and when you don't, whether you ask it of me or not. And I pledge this to you, your Highness," he said, a small smile burning in his voice. "Not as a subordinate, but as your friend."

Smiling through the emotion swelling her throat, she hugged him tightly, but in breaking away, she slapped his arm playfully. "You scared me!"

"I am a clown, am I not?" A wide smile underscored his painted one. "Though I hope this is not enough to subject me to this horrible punishment you have yet to think of—"

Boisterous voices came through the curtain and Vicente's music withered into a discord of plucked strings. Their banter shattered to shared looks of concern as the troupe shifted forward, peeking through the curtains at the approaching voice saying, "Pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but we are here on official business so if you would please remain seated."

Leanna gasped, her fingers digging into Kioyo's shoulders. She knew the voice cutting through the murmurs. "It's the Constable!" Remembering that her doppelganger was no more, Leanna groaned realizing what the Constable was doing there, and why. "He's here for me!"

"You stay here. I will try and talk to them. Bertrand," Kioyo called over his shoulder. "Get the Ringmaster!"

Bertrand nodded and dashed past them. In a blink, Kioyo brushed through the crowd in mist of white. Materializing before the curtains, he parted them and strode through, sure to close the curtains behind him.

With all intentions to stay in place, Leanna followed Kioyo's fading trail of ice through the troupe. Reaching the curtains, she peeked through just in time to see the Constable step forward from beside his two officers and say, "Ringmaster Finvarra assured me that we would have no scandal with the circus' visit, yet now I have reason to believe a girl is being kept here against her will."

Kioyo hummed noncommittally. With one hand at his hip, Kioyo pointed to the Constable as a mother would when scolding a child with the other. "Now, now, Constable, that is a grave accusation. I think you are mistaken as there is no one here who does not want to be. Not anymore. It's snowing, don't you see?" he said, motioning out to the falling snows with flourish swirls of his hands. "Now if you would permit us to continue on with our show. It is our last show you see, and we would very much like to go home."

Word of it being the last show raged through the crowd like fire, and the murmurs sparked to life again, much louder than before.

"I've no time for your cryptic talk," the Constable said over the mumbles that silenced again. "We must find the girl immediately as she is very ill."

"As I have stated, there is no one here who does not wish to be."

"You lie, sir!" another voice came from out of sight that made Leanna's blood run cold. Had she a heart, it would have pounded to a stop that second in hearing her father's voice say, "I have a letter in my possession stating that my daughter is here! I demand she be returned to me!"

A letter? Leanna angled her head to see her father step forward from beside a smug Dr. Luther. He held a white envelope in his hand. "Read it if you wish, just please return my daughter to me, before it is too late." His cheeks flushed, he held out the letter to Kioyo. Seeing his hands tremble a slight and genuine worry mark his eyes so gravely, Leanna clutched the curtains tighter. If she ever had a doubt her father didn't love her, the concern marking his stare then obliterated the thought. Her first tear fell.

A hand came onto Leanna's shoulder and she jumped back. Turning, she looked to red lapels streaked with blond strands. Gazing up, comforting blue eyes stared down at her.

"My father is out there, and the Constable," she told him, as if he hadn't been told such by Bertrand, as if he couldn't hear Kioyo and the Constable having words on the other side of the curtain.

Finvarra's lips drew to a thin line, but didn't look the least bit surprised. He didn't even attempt to part the curtains and take a look for himself.

Leanna's eyes narrowed with a slow understanding. "Did you... did you know they would come?"

Grazing a finger gently along her cheek, Finvarra wiped away the lingering tear. "Whether you are still the Leanan Sidhe or simply a heartless human girl, you are my love," he said, much to her confusion.

As if the waiting war outside did not exist, as if the troupe did not surround them in anxious wait, Finvarra closed the space between them and whispered, "I can deny you nothing."

Stepping back, a small smile touched the side of his mouth, a smile that lit his eyes and drew Leanna into his thoughts. It was here she saw why her father had come as if it were a memory of her own. "The letter... you sent it. You ordered one last performance so that he would come and I could say goodbye..."

Finvarra looked down at her, concerned eyes turquoise under the brim of his top hat. "Did I do wrong?"

Unable to find words, Leanna shook her head. How could he possibly think that when he continuously made her every wish come true? She gave him a small smile, and the worry in his eyes softened.

Finvarra held a hand to her. "Shall we?"

Leanna slid her hand into his, ready to try and say goodbye. Finvarra kissed her hand and all the worry that concerned her, he pushed away with the gentle brush of his lips. They could face the world together.

With a mutual nod, they turned out to the striped curtains and hand in hand, walked through.

Mr. Weston was the first to see them, though at first he studied Leanna slowly. In meeting her eyes, he sucked in a desperate breath that seemed to freeze him where he stood. He gazed to her pinned up hair, then to her feathery gown and finally, his sights stilled on her hand entwined with Finvarra's. Eyes open wide, a furious flush colored his face. "Leanna Weston! What on earth is the meaning of this?"

Leanna released Finvarra's hand and took a step toward her father. "Father, I can explain—"

"Explain that you've run off like some—some frivolous child and disgraced your family's name! You will explain nothing here before these people." He held a firm hand to her through the snowflakes. "We are leaving this instant!"

"Listen to your father, child," the Constable said absently, seedy eyes glaring at Finvarra. And at his side, a pale Dr. Luther simply stared.

The murmurs swelled and many in the audience shared glances as if wondering if it were all part of the show. Leanna exhaled, wishing in earnest it was.

"I am not leaving," she told her father calmly. "You won't ever understand it, or accept it, but I have my own feet to guide me, and my own mind. And I have a life now. I am not leaving."

Stunned, Mr. Weston sputtered the beginnings of few intelligible words.

Breaking from his mental pause, Dr. Luther slid off his hat and stepped to her. "If you will not listen to your father, then listen to me. Not as the man you are to marry," he said pointedly and flicked a fleeting gaze at Finvarra, "but as your doctor. If not for decency and proprieties, think of your health. You do not belong here, amongst these... people," he said, disdain dripping in his words and stare. "You are a young and inexperienced girl with a weak heart. You can be easily manipulated. Your being here tells me you already have been. Come—" He reached for her.

He never touched her. His eyes could not have been wider, looking down to Finvarra's hand wrapped tightly at his wrist. Finvarra's jaw tightened, as did his hand, and around them, the temperatures dipped significantly.

The Constable whirled a hand, motioning for the officers to intervene. A rumbling growl resounded from Leanna's side, and a pitched gasp washed through the crowd. The two officers shifted back, pale, their shocked gaze pinned on Kioyo in leopard form, bearing warning fangs.

"Good heavens..." Mr. Weston breathed, blanched and wide eyed, no doubt having seen Kioyo's magical transformation. He reached out to Leanna, frantic. "Let us go home, Leanna, before anyone gets hurt!"

With Dr. Luther frozen by fear of Finvarra and the Constable and his men kept at bay by Kioyo, Leanna walked to her father, alone. He watched her approach, confusion, anger and a myriad of emotions crossing his stare.

Standing before him, Leanna placed a palm at his cheek and looked him straight in the eyes. "There is nothing in this world for me. Not after all I have witnessed, after all the magic I've lived." Looking behind her, to the troupe that exited the tents to stand by their king and now by her, Leanna told him with every certainty, "I am home, Papa. This is where I belong and this is where I will stay, but if I could have your blessing then I will truly be happy. I've had a lifetime of broken hearts and it would pain me to know my goodbye has broken yours. Be happy for me, please," she asked him, her voice failing her upon the last word.

His chin quivered and a fire bloomed in his rounded cheeks. "You look just like her," he said weakly, pained. "Your mother's eyes gleamed with the same deluded hope that all of this nonsense was real. What have they done to you, my girl? I told you, there is no such thing as magic. Please, heed my words. This is all an illusions, none of it is real!"

His gaze flicked over her shoulder, to the troupe and Finvarra behind her. He shook his head. "I can't accept this, Leanna, forgive me. The letter says you mean to leave, but... but what you're asking of me is impossible. I cannot be happy for this, just as I cannot let you leave—"

"Then you will deny me this to have me waste away in a metal chair, married to a man who thinks I am easily manipulated?" she said, casting a nasty glance over her shoulder at Dr. Luther. Finvarra had since released his hand, but remained close to Dr. Luther, his shadow a constant warning, just as Kioyo's rumbling was to the Constable and his men.

Leanna turned back to her father. "Forget your fear and what this world thinks is wrong or right. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you want that miserable existence for me."

They stared at one another in silence for long moments, moments where Leanna watched her father struggle with the impossibilities presented him. "Leanna," he said, and stopped. Touring his gaze behind her, he shook his head. "I am trying to understand, but...but I am scared for you."

"There's no reason to be frightened. Not anymore," she told him, smiling through the sadness. He was trying to understand her, and that was so much more than she could have ever imagined.

She could have explained to him how she no longer had a heart and perhaps ease his fears that her heart would fail, but instinct told her that would do more harm than good. Instead, Leanna relied on another truth, the new truth that flowed through her veins and cast away the greatest of darkness. Instinctively, she put a hand on his heart with all the love she felt and focused on what her life had been before the circus—a never ending torrent of bad dreams, aching loneliness, and the denied desire to belong, to simply live. Coolness rushed through her veins, flowing to her hand that grew frigid against his chest.

Her father's look changed, a crease marking his brow. Leanna knew he felt the memories she wanted to share with him through the currents of her magic.

When she lowered her hand away, he looked down, his shame palpable. "All of these years I've tried keeping you safe and alive, and you were dying of misery. I... I didn't know you were so unhappy..."

Drawing close to him, Leanna walked into his chest and hugged her father. However many times she felt betrayed, angered, sad and alone, it all mattered little now. Feeling his arms come around her, affection so unlike him, she understood that no love could ever be perfect, but he loved her in the best way he could. She truly would miss him.

She looked up into reddened blue eyes and spoke words for his ears and soul only, verses of forgiveness of past transgressions against her mother, gentle lyrics of appreciation for having been a good father, the best he knew to be. A melody to soothe his heart and assure him she'd found all the love she could ever dream of. It was her gift to him, a gift of song and truth.

Kissing her father's cheek, she stepped back and released him.

Perhaps it was shock, or the effects of her faerie magic, or, perhaps, it was simply the link between a father and a daughter, but though he still looked unconvinced, a sad acceptance settled in his eyes and he nodded to her.

It was Dr. Luther who sputtered words now. "You're letting her leave with them?"

"Silence, Dr. Luther. My daughter wishes to leave and your services are no longer needed," Mr. Weston said. Leanna looked to her father, shock and pride staining her cheeks pink.

"But surely you cannot allow this!" he exploded from behind them. "This is madness!"

"Yes, well, she's been known to inspire such," Finvarra rumbled, the smile in his voice no doubt salt on a wound to Dr. Luther. "Now if you would allow us to begin our show. I reserved some seating for Mr. Weston, but you are free to join him."

"This is preposterous!" The Constable made to step forward, but Kioyo growled. He jumped back, shuffling quickly behind his men who scrambled to get behind him. Many in the audience laughed, finding it as comical as a giggling Leanna did.

"Enough of this!" the Constable clipped and pushed his fumbling officers away. "When I return, it will be with all of my men! This treachery will not go unpunished!" he declared, a pointed finger speared in the air. He spun on his heels, puffed up his chest and strode through the tents, his men and Dr. Luther close behind him.

An awkward and slow clap waved through the tent, many unsure whether it had been a part of the show or not.

Mr. Weston watched them go, worry still brimming in his eyes. Leanna put a hand at his shoulder wishing there was something she could do that would assure him all would be well, to assure him that there truly was magic in the world. Perhaps then he wouldn't worry...

A slow smile spread on her lips, and in hearing Vicente's music start up again, she knew the perfect thing.

The lingering smoke of Bertrand's fireworks curled in the air like a morning fog. Through the ghostly fingers, the angelic timbre of a Ringmaster's voice reached Leanna in her heaven.

"And for our final act," Finvarra's melodic voice echoed through the tent, "I bring to you the one who freed us from our nightmares and iron chains. May memory of her dance soothe you in your darkest of times and may her light give you a glimpse into Forever, where she will be adored and loved," Finvarra said, nodding once to Mr. Weston. He turned out to the crowd, motioning up to the platform above him. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my love, the magnificent, Leanna."

A second and the soft trickle of the piano sprinkled through the quiet with the beginning chords of a song—of her song, Leanna's minuet. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered madly, where Leanna thought she would sprout wings and fly into Forever. But these were not nerves of fear, no. Though not knowing what her dance held now that she was no longer the Leanan Sidhe, Leanna smiled, excited to simply dance. Trusting in the music and in herself, she steeled her spine, tipped her chin and tinkled forward like raindrops upon the rope.

Sway and reach, Leanna danced unafraid through glinting pixies and gleaming snow. And as she spun freely, unencumbered by curses, mechanical monsters and broken hearts, the coloring of her gown curled away from her as tresses of crimson smoke. Whirling into the heavens of the Big Top, the wisps vanished as if the ghost of her broken heart finally free. Only Leanna remained, a heartless angel at center rope in a glittering white dress.

Her body hummed, yearning to share with the world her joy of dying into a new life. But they could not see the tears that spilled from her eyes— tears of a lost love that was now found, of childhood dreams forged in dollhouses becoming reality. No, there was but one thing that could be seen from great distances, in the thickest of darkness. Curling into herself, Leanna brought her hands to her womb. Exhaling, she arched back and love poured from her body in frosted streams of light. Against the black of the Big Top, she was the moon, and around her the pixies glittered brightly, a sky full of each star she'd wished on in a lifetime.

The audience gasped, bathed in her blinding hue of life, of love, of magic.

Feeling the warmth return to her, Leanna straightened. She swayed naturally like the ocean that once pulled Finvarra from the shores of his madness. Only now, with each wave of her arms she hoped to have pulled her father from the shores of his disbelief, proving to him that her mother was right. Finvarra's Circus was truly magical.

When her feet reached the solid ground of the platform, deafening applause roared from below. On their feet, the audience cheered wildly and the air vibrated with their praise. With a hand over the memory of her heart, Leanna curtsied, having danced her best, for herself.

Applause followed her down the ladder where the troupe lined up outside of the rings. Finvarra stood at their heart and the pixies glittered above them. He held a hand to Leanna, a bright smile rivaling the sun spread on his lips.

Entwining her hand with his, Leanna let him draw her beside him and turned to face the crowd alongside her new family. Hand in hand, they stood a moment, taking in the applause. Then slowly, they either bowed or curtsied, thus marking the end of Finvarra's Circus.

On their feet, the audience howled and cheered, while others clapped heartily, Mr. Weston amongst them. Pride beamed in his stare and in the tears that spilled from his eyes. Pressing fingers to her lips, a gradual smile curved there. She curtsied one more time, a special appreciation for her father's praise.

A gust of icy wind whisked through the tent that sent the snowflakes into twirls of frost. Turning to the dressing tent, Leanna saw the curtains billow, silvery light streaming through the ever changing seams.

A smiling Minerva stood beside the curtains. And though she said nothing, Leanna heard the words in her soul, the way she knew the entire troupe did: Forever awaits.

Inara was the first to move, leading the line with a kindled horn. To the melody of the applause and quiet sighs of the breeze, the troupe followed. One by one they vanished through the curtains until only Leanna remained at Finvarra's side.

Moving forward, Leanna released Finvarra's hand and walked to her father. With each of her steps, the clapping faded and the audience took their seats again as if truly believing this was all part of the show.

Standing before her father, Leanna gazed back to where Finvarra now stood beside Tomas on one side of the curtain, Minerva and Kioyo on the other bathed in halos of white and forgiveness. Frosted light streamed out to her, the ghostly hands of Forever beckoning her home.

Leanna turned back to her father, joy and aching sadness a knot in her throat. "We have to go now..."

Mr. Weston swallowed deeply, trembling hands curling into fists as if wishing to hold on to one last bit of composure, or rather to keep his hands from holding her and never letting her go. "I don't know what awaits you on the other side of that curtain, but is it truly what you wish?"

Lips trembling, Leanna nodded. "With all of my soul, Papa. It's all I've ever wanted."

Her father mirrored her nod and cupped her cheek. "Then you have my blessing, dear girl."

The image of him smeared behind her tears as a sob burst from her throat and she brushed into her father's arms. No words spoken, he hugged her tightly, his own tears wetting her cheek. Though she had no heart, in that instant, Leanna felt something inside of her break.

The cool breeze of a beckoning world sighed, telling them it was time. With shared smiles, Leanna and her father pulled away. Nodding knowingly, he offered her his arm. Leanna slipped her arm into his and curled up at his side as he escorted her to the curtains.

Watching them approach, Finvarra slid off his hat and stepped forward. He looked to Mr. Weston and with every grace, extended his hand.

Mr. Weston met his hand firmly. And though no words were spoken, the intensity of their handshake and secret conversation of their eyes pressed down on Leanna's chest. She knew then that no two men could ever love her more.

Unfolding her arm from his, Mr. Weston pressed a gentle kiss on Leanna's hand and guided it into Finvarra's. Releasing it into his hold, he moved back one step and another. "Goodbye, Leanna."

Tears streamed from her eyes freely now, the last of her mortal wishes come true. "Goodbye, Papa."

Farewells said, a beaming Kioyo nodded to Leanna and Finvarra. Whirling Minerva under his arm in an impromptu dance, they vanished together through the curtains to the melody of their laughter. Chuckling, Tomas shook his head and followed. When he reached the threshold however, he stepped aside and held the billowing curtain open. A shuddering breath curled from Leanna's lips, the sight spread before her nothing short of a dream.

An icy forest waited where frozen crystals glinted on skeletal branches, singing a tinkling song in a passing breeze. The winds sent frost swirls pirouetting from in between the trees, toward Leanna and Finvarra. The icy tresses twined about their bodies, kissing their skin with coolness and encouraging them forward.

Leanna turned a teary gaze to Finvarra whose eyes followed the quiet journey of the snow across his lands. He looked longingly to the horizon and blue eyes glittered as he beheld the icy towers gleaming in the distance. Finvarra closed his hand over hers, and together they stepped forward, letting the whirling snows lead them home.

Like a rising sun, the light of the palace kindled as if knowing their king had returned. Wintry light spilled from within and streamed across the land. The silvery hue made diamonds of the snowflakes and marked a glittering path through the heart of the forest and to its gates.

Leaning into her ear, Finvarra placed a quiet kiss at her temple and whispered, "Welcome home."

* * *

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