“Joclyn?” I spun around at the small voice to see Ryland standing in the middle of the room. His small five year old frame seemed to be glowing as I faced him, his blue eyes shining at seeing me there. Ryland as I knew him, as I was bound to him, was not this boy. He was not this age. This boy was only a subconscious projection, the last of the memories that his Father had left him with.
“You came back!” He squealed and barreled into my legs, almost knocking me over onto the hard ground. He hugged me tightly, chalk and crayon dust wiping off onto my pants. I leaned down and ruffled his shaggy black curls.
“I take it you missed me then?” I asked softly.
“Of course I did! You were gone so long I thought I would be alone forever.”
“You haven’t left?” I asked as Ryland enthusiastically shook his head in answer. I arched my brow in confusion, that didn’t make sense. Ryland had always left before. He had left me alone in our space a number of times, and yet this time he was trapped.
“Nope, so I drew you a gift!” He motioned around him, his wide smile returning. “Do you like it?” He spun his fingers, and a bright red crayon appeared in-between them.
“You drew all this, for me?” Ryland’s face lit up at my response.
“I even drew a really, really special one for you. Do you want to see?”
“Umm... yeah.” I smiled at him and he skipped away, excited to be showing me one of his many masterpieces.
I followed him until he stopped near a wide expanse of blue I assumed to be a swimming pool.
“What is it, Ry?” I asked, coming to stand next to him and still not quite sure which of the surrounding images I should be looking at.
“It’s you,” he said quietly.
I followed his line of sight to a crayon drawing that was obviously meant to be life size. The portrait Ryland had drawn was of me, long dark hair, big eyes that were actually crude sketches of diamonds, and stick hands and legs.
The figure wore a purple robe and had a pink crown on her head. I wanted to laugh, but instead I smiled, feeling exceptionally happy.
I kneeled down next to him, wrapping my arms around his tiny shoulders.
“You drew this for me?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“It’s beautiful, Ry. Thank you.”
“You like it?” he asked, his little voice bursting with pride. I squeezed him against me, his frame so small against mine. I was overcome by a memory of Ryland, the way he should be: large, older than me, muscles, and scars.
“I love it.” I said.
“Good! Now, you can draw one of me.” He pushed a blue crayon into my hand and struck a pose in expectation.
“Actually,” I said, feeling guilty as Ryland’s face fell. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” he asked, and my face fell more.
“Yeah, I may not come back. I’m not sure. I’m... I’m very sick. My friend is trying to help me, but I am not sure it is going to work... I wanted to say goodbye, in case.” I felt the tears come and I cursed silently, I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to be weak anymore.
“You don’t look sick,” Ryland said.
“Not here, but where I come from I am very sick.”
Ryland screwed up his face like he didn’t believe me, but then seemed to think better of it. His face brightened a bit, but I could tell his smile was forced. I felt bad leaving him here alone. But, I didn’t know if I would come back. I was quite literally lying in Ilyan’s arms as he kept me alive long enough to say goodbye.
“You’ll be back,” Ryland said. “I know you will.”
“I hope you are right, Ry.” I ran my fingers through his curls, the way I always used to and he smiled a bit.
I couldn’t bring myself to say any more. I turned away from him and walked determinedly to a black door that was set into the endless back space. I wasn’t sure if it was the right way to exit, before I had always been forced out, but the door seemed right, so I grabbed the knob.
“Goodbye, Jossy,” Ryland whispered, using a nickname I hadn’t heard since I was six.
“Goodbye, Ry,” I whispered softly to myself, not daring to turn back to face him again. I bit my lip and turned the knob, grateful when my eyes opened to Ilyan’s worried face leaning over me.
I could tell right away that something was off; Ilyan’s face was relieved but also... disappointed. And then, I felt it; the strong buzzing under my skin. I could feel my perfectly healed body, the energy, the power. I hadn’t felt this strong since I flew into the LaRue mansion.
I sat up, sending blankets tumbling around me. Nothing hurt. My magic had restored itself and in turn healed my body. I stared at my hand numbly; I was going to be okay. I could have danced and sang, but everything in me was frozen in shocked relief. I stood and spun to face Ilyan, his face as shocked as I felt.