He felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. His mother was no longer there. They had taken her away.

"Ferry, dear ... It's time to go ..."

He looked up and recognized May's mother. He nodded slowly. A few figures were still beside him. Only a few. The others, the unknown ones, were gone. In front of him, broken flowers, dirt, and pieces of ceramic. Among them, a drop of silver, shining between so many dead pieces. He touched it and the drop stuck to his fingertips, cold and viscous. Fairy blood.

He could feel a hand helping him to get up. It was Ben. He showed the blood on his fingers to him.

Ben shook his head and blocked his path, "Ferry ..." he said softly.

"Get out of my way, Ben!"

But Ben didn't move, "Ferry, don't jump to conclusions... I know what you think. But Kian is not the only fairy in this town."

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, BEN!" he said, pushing him out of his way.

At the exit of the greenhouse, he came across Matilda. The girl tried to get close to him. Ferry looked into her sad eyes for a moment. Then he bypassed her and walked away.

He bumped into people and things on the way out. So many people ... What was everyone doing there? He went out on the hot street, at the beginning of summer. The sun burned his skin, and the light blinded him. He ran away from the town. Then he took a flight to the lake. Branches hit him and scratched his face. He could've been seen because he was flying among the branches of the trees and not above them. But he didn't care anymore.

He didn't even realize when he reached the house by the lake. He burged inside. The house looked older and sadder than when he had last seen it. Ferry stepped inside. His footsteps echoed on the creaking, rotten floor. The layer of dust had thickened on the oak table. In its old wood, a new carving had appeared: K + B. Kian and Billy.

He went outside. "KIAN! he shouted. COME OUT, YOU COWARD!"

No answer. Even the wind had stopped. The echo got lost in the distance.

"KIAN! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE SOMEWHERE! he shouted again. COME OUT!"

Still no answer. In front of him, the strong sun reflected in the lake, and the waves of light poured over the tall grass on the shore. The sky above stretched endlessly towards the infinite, with cotton clouds moving slowly toward the horizon. Ferry had never seen anything more beautiful. He fell to his knees, and the tears returned, burning hotter than before.

"Why did you have to kill her, Kian?" he sobbed. "She didn't do anything to you ... She just worried about you ... I swear I'll kill you, Kian," he said with a sigh. "I'll find you, Kian, do you hear me?" he shouted. "And when I'll find you, I swear I'll kill you, you jerk of a fairy."

A flutter of wings nearby made him tremble and stare at the endless sky.

"Thyme, where are you?" he whispered. "I need you..."

His fists hit the hard, hot ground. And the earth shook.

*

He sat in the shade of the house for hours, waiting for her. In the end, she appeared in her black clothes, her hair just as dark, falling on her back, up to her waist. Her arrogant look was gone. She was walking with his shoulders down and her gaze to the ground.

She didn't even feel Ferry coming out of the shadows behind her.

"Where is he?" he asked.

Lily Jones winced at the sight of him. She wanted to look calm and in control, but she failed. She knew who Ferry was referring to. There was no point in pretending.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I haven't seen him in a while. When I miss him, or what's left of him, I always find him under that boy's balcony. Billy!" she spat his name.

"He's not there," Ferry said. "He left. Or so he said ..."

Lily Jones closed her eyes for a moment.

"It means he's getting ready ..." she said.

"Getting ready for what?" Ferry asked.

Lily Jones turned to him and studied him from head to toe.

"You look different," she said. "Something has changed in you. I heard what happened. Did her death make you like that?"

"Don't speak her name!" he said through his teeth. "You, of all people, have no right to speak her name!"

She approached and took a better look at him between her black lashes, full of mascara, "What do you find so fascinating about humans?" she asked. "What makes you fall for them? They lack any bit of magic."

"Maybe that's their magic," Ferry said. "That they can do great things without needing magic at all."

She snorted in disgust, "People only bring the death of us. Just like they will bring it to him. I tried to stop him. But the path he's on is already paved ... You should stay away from the humans, too, Moonlight Boy," she said, and Ferry saw the twinkle in her eye.

"What did you say?"

"You're as oblivious as ever," she laughed. "How good it must be to be blind to what is happening around you." Then her voice turned cold and hissed, "You can't change things. What's happening in this town is bigger than you and I. There are unwritten rules that others have made for us. And we struggle and resist, swimming against the current, thinking we can change their course. But we are only waves that break into the stones ... Or rather, the stones are the ones that break us ..."

Then she went up the stairs and opened the door of the hunchbacked house. She turned to Ferry before going in, "If you see him, tell him I'm waiting for him," she said softly. "I shall always wait for him ..."

"If I see him," Ferry said, "it will be too late for him."

*Ferry slowly pushed the door went in. The house smelled of freshly baked bread and floor wax."I'm home, Mum ..." he softly said, feeling a lump in his chest, pressing hard as if to take his breath away.

He entered the living room and stopped in front of her rocking chair by the couch, from which she always watched his afternoon sleep when he was a child. The blanket that always covered her feet was there, nicely folded. Ferry picked it up and buried his face in it. It still retains her subtle scent of fresh flowers.

He got out in the backyard. The ropes still kept the last sheets she had washed. The wind blew them away and shook them as if they were the sails of a ship ready to go to endless horizons. The yard looked just as he remembered it as a child, fresh and so intoxicating. His mother had taken care to replant the flower beds and shrubs and save what was left of the old ones. Ferry was slowly making his way to the swing of his childhood. He closed his eyes and began to sway slowly. The ever-blooming jasmine bush had survived the times without love and care. And now, with the coming of evening, it played the wind's game, sending him sweet breezes. Ferry rested his head on the gnawed rope and stood there, forgetting about time, wandering among the thoughts that made his head spin.

When he opened his eyes, it was dark. He entered the house and sat at the round table in the kitchen where his mother usually sat. In the middle of the table, he discovered a plate of strawberry pie that spread a sweet scent.

Ferry throbbed when he heard the front door open. Peter Donovan went into the kitchen. He was pale and had an empty gaze. He passed him as if he wasn't even there. He tore open a kitchen cupboard from which he pulled out a bottle. He opened the cork and began to drink straight from it. The alcohol ran down his throat. In less than half a minute, Peter finished the bottle. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The other hand was bandaged.Looking at him, Ferry felt all his pain, all his anger, and all his torment come together. His breathing increased.

"You've finally managed to get home," Peter told him without turning.

Ferry felt the vein in his temple begin to twitch.

"You and your stubbornness ..." he said, still without turning. She cried every night because you didn't want to come home. Her poor heart ... Her poor broken heart couldn't stand it anymore..."

Ferry rose from the table, slamming his chair, "Don't you dare!" he shouted. "Don't you dare blame it on me!"

Peter finally turned to him. He had dark lines under his eyes, and his eyes were red with rage.

"You were the one who betrayed her!" Ferry continued, feeling short of breath. "You were the one who kicked me out of the house knowing she would come with me," he said, clenching his fists. "You were the one who made her life hell! You're the one who lied and cheated on her! YOU NEVER LOVED HER!"

Peter rushed at him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the wall, "What do you know about love, boy?" his voice thundered. "You think love means only holding hands, and kisses, and butterflies in the stomach? You think love is living happily ever after?" he said, barely breathing, his breath of alcohol making Ferry feel sick. "Have you ever wondered what comes after ever after? What does love look like then? Love is staying close to each other even when the butterflies are gone. To see the one next to you just as young and full of life, even when the youth is gone. Love is accepting a child who appeared out of nowhere just because she has so much love to offer that she doesn't care that it's not her own child ..." he added and tears began to flow down his cheeks. "I loved your mother," he said softly. "In my twisted and selfish way, but I loved her ..."

He let go of Ferry. "I have to go," he said, wiping away his tears and heading for the door. I have to take care of the funeral preparations ... You can stay here if you want. You're the only thing left of her ..."

Ferry stared behind him. He could feel his head spin like a huge ball, ready to explode. He sat on the couch where the afternoon sleep was always the sweetest. He wrapped himself in her blanket, which still kept her scent. He felt tired, so tired ... He sat there, his eyes staring at the ceiling, numb. He could feel a breeze and a vague scent of her perfume. Ferry got up from the couch. The blanket fell at his feet. Matilda and Ben were at the door. He didn't even hear them enter. And they, like him, didn't know what to say or do.

Matilda came slowly to him, followed by Ben. Ferry looked away. He went to the kitchen and sat down in his mother's seat. His friends followed him, but they kept the distance.

"She loved to stay here when she wanted to be alone or to think," he said softly. "She loved the teacup painted with roses. The sun came in through the window and stopped right in the middle of the table. Right in the middle of her cup of tea. She used to say that it was as if she could drink the sun ..." he added and his voice broke.

His head fell on his arm and tears began to flow again. He felt his friends' hands, each on one shoulder. He wiped away his tears.

"But now is not the time for this. I need to find Kian ..."

Matilda exchanged a worried look with Ben.

"You don't have to think that, Ferr ..." Ben said softly. "Dr. Goody said it was a heart attack ..."

"Dr. Goody wouldn't make a difference between skin cancer and a rash," Ferry said.

"Ferry ..." Matilda tried to say something.

But he shook his head. "I talked to her before — She looked worried. She said a man with a hooded cloak was lurking around the mansion and the town. A limping man. Kian wears a cloak and barely crawls because he's sick. And he's the one who's losing blood. I'm telling you ... Fairies have something to do with this."

"But why would he kill her, Ferry?" Matilda insisted. "It doesn't make sense ... We don't know why he's here. But what has your mother got to do with all this?"

"Maybe she saw something ... Maybe she found out who he was. Maybe he wanted to hurt me by hurting her."

Ben shook also his head, "Even if it's true. Even if the fairies have something to do with this, you can't know it was Kian. He's not the only fairy in this town. Who knows how many more there are, seen or unseen ... Any fairy could have left a drop of blood next to your mother ..."

Ferry stared blankly as if he couldn't hear them, "I need to know who found her. Someone must have seen something ..."

"Ferr, that doesn't do you any good ... You shouldn't be alone now. Come with us..."

But he shook his head over and over, "No, Ben. I just want to be alone. I'm fine."

Matilda sat down beside him. She reached out for his hand and held it, "Ferry, Ben's right. You shouldn't be alone. Let me— Let us take care of you ... Please," she softly said.

He looked at her, frowning, "Don't bother, Matt," he said, pulling his hand from her warm hand. "You don't care about me, anyway ... What? Do you want to keep yourself busy with me until your fairy lover returns from Tenalach?" he said, looking into her eyes.

His words hurt her. He could see that. Her eyes got filled with tears. Her chin trembled. "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that ... If you need us, you know where to find us," she said, getting up. "Come, Ben."

Ferry heard their footsteps moving away and the door closing behind them. It was quiet. He was alone.

*The next days were a blur to him. On the sofa in the living room, he felt he was seeing everything from the outside as if he had left his own body. Several faces he did not know walked in front of him. Foreign hands were touching him. Others wrapped him in blankets. Others offered him food and drink that he did not touch.

On the day of the funeral, he could barely keep his eyes open. It wasn't fatigue, though he didn't remember sleeping in the last few days. It was the heavy light of early summer that almost blinded him. Everything around was white and burnt, and the silhouettes were cut out of the light, shadows that appeared and then melted back into it. That dazzling white light reminded Ferry of the day he had first left the house. He looked at his mother that day, and she smiled at him, her smile brighter than the surrounding light ...

Now, as he walked down the street burning his feet through shoes, he discovered Lavender beside him, holding his hand. He couldn't remember the last time Lavender had come to town. But the questioning glances around her were probably her last concern. And Ferry thanked her for it.

In the old cemetery, among the tombs blackened by the time where old dead rested before Goodharts existed, he could barely make room through the crowd. The wedding, so long-awaited by the whole town, had been postponed until things returned to normal. Ferry knew this would never happen. The guests who should have been happy and partying were now shedding bitter tears. Eileen Donovan was loved and respected by the entire community, and everyone in Goodharts wanted to pay their last respects.

Ferry didn't remember the funeral. The priest, Simon Lowe, had given a long sermon, but he could only hear only fragments, his voice getting lost in the heat and among the chirping of birds. Ferry searched the faces on the edge of his mother's grave. Matilda, Ben, and May, with their families. Neighbors and people who had worked at the mansion with Eileen. Celia and her friends. The mayor and principal of the primary school where he had studied. Miss Summer, his former teacher and Mr. Adams, the Biology teacher. And Billy and his father, Albert Pride, both dressed in impeccable black suits. What were they doing there? His mother had been loved by all, no doubt. But Ferry didn't remember Albert Pride ever talking to her. What had made him leave his important chores to attend an employee's funeral?

To his left, Peter Donovan was crying with his face buried in his palms. On the right, Lavender was holding his hand so tightly that it was almost numb. He wore the suit he had never worn, but which her mother had insisted on tailoring in case a special occasion arose which he had to wear. Ferry had never thought that would be the occasion. He could feel the heat penetrating the black fabric and spreading under his suit, burning his skin. The tie was tightening, almost suffocating him. The voices became muffled. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Then the surrounding silhouettes began to scatter, and the air became easier to breathe. He could feel cold, awkward hugs and clumsy hands patting his back as encouragement. Some spoke to him, but their voices seemed to come from afar. He closed his eyes, waiting for everything to end.

He only opened them when he felt the touch of the wind. He was alone. His mother's grave was covered with flowers that should have adorned the bride and groom's garden.Ferry looked at the stillness around him one last time before leaving. His mother was not there, covered in darkness. She was with him.

*He didn't know for how long he'd been in the swing of his childhood, under the walnut of his lost innocence. The evening came and the light around turned more gentle. He still could barely keep his eyes open. They were swollen and hurt from so many tears. He felt his head heavy and leaned against the thick rope of the swing.

Behind the sheets he had not endured to pull from the ropes, the sun was preparing to leave, leaving room for the night's greatness. The honey light behind them was growing. And a thin figure crept into that light.

With his senses numb, he forced himself to open his eyes. The figure slipped through the sheets, coming closer. With soft movements, she pushed the last sheet aside, showing himself. Ferry felt his eyes burnt from the rays that crept through the white fabrics. His whole body felt numb. In the light of dusk, he didn't know who the thin creature was. Maybe there was no one. Maybe he was just dreaming. He would have liked to see his mother again, even if in a dream.

But it wasn't a dream. And the approaching figure was not his mother. It was May. She stopped in front of him. Ferry looked up at her.

"May ..." he whispered.

But she gently put her finger on his lips. "Shhh ... Don't say anything ..."

She touched his feverish forehead with her thin, cold fingers. She got even closer and kissed his hair. Ferry wrapped her thin body with his arms and buried his face in her jasmine-scented dress. And he cried. He cried some more when he thought there were no more tears left to cry. His eyes stung, but he couldn't stop. She pressed her cheek to his head and caressed his back all this time.

She then sat next to him on the swing and slowly turned his face toward her. She pressed her forehead to his forehead and Ferry felt her eyelashes fluttering on his cheek. She cupped his face and kissed his eyes and his tears. Her mouth searched for his. Then her lips stopped on his lips, as light as a summer breeze. Ferry felt the strands of silk touch his neck. Her lips began to tremble as if she whispered something to him.

If only her kiss had come earlier, just two months ago, it would have made him so happy. If only her kiss had come when he thought he knew what love meant. When love didn't hurt so much. When life was simple and beautiful. When his mother was still alive ...

He closed her eyes and imagined that her kiss happened at the spring ball when spring was just beginning. That she didn't run away from his arms, but they danced, chained in an endless embrace, behind the gym room.

He touched her fragile shoulder with the tips of his fingers, and she shivered; then his lips met hers, melting into the kiss he had been waiting for so long, but which came so late. Much too late. He put all his pain into that kiss, pressing his lips harder to hers just to feel something. Anything. She softly sighed but didn't let go of the kiss as if she wanted to feel his pain. And their mouths kept on finding each other and hurting each other, their kisses melting with their tears.

He couldn't tell how long their kiss had lasted. It could have lasted a minute or the entire night. He woke up on the couch, wrapped in his mother's patched blanket. He couldn't remember how he got there. Or who wrapped him. Or when May left... The room was already plunged into the darkness pierced only by the dim light of the streetlamp in front of the house. Next to the sofa where he fell asleep, his mother's rocking chair was slowly swinging...

*Ferry arrived at Lavender's house long after midnight. They were all waiting for him. They all stood up as he entered the room.

Oona came to him, wringing her hands; then she hugged him.

"I heard what happened to your mother ..." she said. "I never met her. But knowing you feels like I've already met her..." Then she studied him carefully, "You look sad. Truly sad ..."

"Oona," Lavender scolded her, "give the boy some peace!"

Oona retired to the divan by the window and began playing with a thread from her dress.

"I came to get my things," Ferry said. "I'm going home."

"Garrett ..." Parsley tried to get closer to him.

But Ferry passed him and went up to his rooftop room. He packed the few things he had in a sack, then took the box out from under the bed. He opened it. He saw Mrs. Cobbs' diary and letters. He discovered May's medallion he had worn for so long. He caresses the glossy, cold surface. Then he closed the lid and went out.

Lavender was waiting for him, still standing, "Parsley told Thyme about what happened ... He's leaving as soon as Lord Stephan returns from his wanderings. He's probably on his way here."

Ferry nodded slowly.

"Why don't you stay here?" she said softly. "It's safer for you ..."

"I have to go back. I promised her to go home. I promised Mum..."

"Ferry ..." Lavender gently called his name.

"I have to go back. I have to get ready."

"Get ready for what?" she asked.

"I'll be leaving soon. Far away from here. I need to find Peter Donovan's lost son."

Lavender and Parsley exchanged a meaningful look.

"Don't try to make me change my mind," Ferry told them firmly. "I promised my mother before ... before--"

He felt a lump in his throat again. "You said you took him to one of the shelters for the fairy babies after you switched him with me," he told Parsley. "He must still be a child if he grew up in the fairyland. Where did you take him? To Akna? To Tenalach?"

Parsley avoided his gaze.

"You took him there, right?" Ferry insisted. "In the realm of fairies?"

Parsley looked desperately at Lavender.

"Sit down, Ferry," she said firmly.

Ferry shook his head, "No. I'm not going to sit down. You're going to tell me where the Donovans' lost son is!"

Lavender sighed, "We do not know..."

Ferry felt the ground slip from under his feet, "What do you mean you don't know?" he said in a low voice.

Parsley came closer, "Seventeen years ago when we brought you into this world, we thought it was the safest place. We couldn't go back to Akna. They were all on our trail. Traitors. That's how they considered us. The Donovan baby ... We couldn't take him to Akna. He was a human child. Akna hates humans. They would have killed him. So..."

Ferry collapsed on the couch by the fireplace.

"So we took him to a shelter here, in the human world," Parsley continued. "In the Big City. In the first shelter we met. We were in a hurry. We were scared, strangers in a foreign world. And we had to go back to you to see how your new mother was treating you. We wrapped him in your royal linen, sewn with gold thread. He had a pear-shaped birthmark on his shoulder blade; we flew with him to the first orphanage we met on the way. We left him on the steps of the orphanage and waited until someone from the orphanage took him inside. We returned after a few months. But he had already been adopted. We lost track of him then ..."

Ferry felt the headache coming over him again, "That means the Donovan lost son is seventeen years old now. That he grew up among his own kind all this time ..." he said in a faint voice.

Parsley nodded.

Ferry stood up, shivering. "How could you do that?" he shouted. "How could you lie to me knowing that the child stayed here all this time? How could you tell me not to get involved in humans business knowing that Kian was not the real son of the Donovans? How many other secrets? How many other lies?" he said, clenching his fists, feeling the tears begin to fall again.

Parsley lowers his gaze. "I'm sorry, Garrett ... We're all so sorry ..."

"You're sorry?" he shouted. "What about me? Don't you feel sorry for me? How can I trust someone when my own friends lie to me? I don't know what to think anymore," he said, and his voice broke. "Everything I thought I knew turns into lies with each passing day."

"Ferry, dear..." Lavender said, trying to come closer.

But he stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Don't! All my life I've been wandering between two worlds," he added, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Always shifting between humans and fairies. Always looking for a sign if I belonged to one world or another," he cried through his sobs. "And in all this confusion, among all these tangled threads that should have meant my life, there was one thing I knew for sure. Only one ... That I was her son. And I didn't need anything else. And now... Now, she's gone... And I — I just feel so lost ..." he said, collapsing on the couch, sobbing with his face in his palms.

Lavender sat down next to him and caressed his hair. Ferry buried his face in her lavender-scented dress.

"Will it ever go away? The pain?" he asked with a sigh.

Lavender shook her head, "No. It will always stay there, like a hole in the heart that hurts with every breath. Maybe you won't remember about it every single second, over time. Because life takes care to lead us on its path. But it will always be there, showing its abyss when you least expect it. And the sadness you thought you felt before ... The tears you shed ... The pain you experienced before ... are nothing compared to it. Everything is just dandelion fluff carried away to far horizons to make way for the true pain. The one that nestles in our soul forever just to remind us, in case we somehow forget, how ephemeral and lonely we are ..."

I hope this chapter will bring you a bit of comfort. Thank you for being amazing! Let me know your thoughts.