I come from places stitched to elsewhere, where the Feywild breathes through leaf and dew, where wonder is a duty, and mercy is something you do. The world gets loud with iron prayers, with injuries that won’t unclench, so I carry summer in my hands for the moments you can’t stand. A quiet work in twilight shade, and a pulse of borrowed warmth that tells the body: you can stay. I spend my light in handfuls, fey dice in my palm, rolled soft for the broken like rain that means no harm. I mend you from a distance, one breath, one drift, one thread, and for each little mercy a thin dream-shield for your rest. When we finally stop running, I choose a point in empty air, and home becomes a sphere of hush that gathers where we are. Thirty feet of hidden breathing, no lantern leaking through, campfire glow kept secret like a lullaby that’s true. Inside, your footsteps soften… your eyes and ears grow keen; outside, the night stays blind to us, like we were never seen. I spend my light in handfuls, fey dice in my palm, rolled soft for the broken like rain that means no harm. Rest safe under moon-shadow, rest safe under my watch, the flame is warm in here, but the world can’t find the spot. Rest… Just rest for a while… Dream… Just dream for a while… When danger remembers our names I don’t answer out loud I step where the world loosens grip And reappear already found No footstep learns how I left No echo knows where I’ve been The road bends softly for those I keep Then closes itself again I don’t tear the veil open, I knock, and it lets me through The path knows when I am tired And rests when I do I spend my light in handfuls, fey dice in my palm, rolled soft for the broken like rain that means no harm. I build a hearth from shadow, I bend the road like thread, and if you can’t find your way back… I’ll meet you in your head. I send myself as dream… to the last place we slept… not to some fixed rune in stone… Just home… Just home.
