Memories are a fickle thing. You remember certain things, you forget some others. It was all about presentation, really. Events have to leave a lasting imprint if you're ever going to want something to look back on one day, in which case yesterday would be something, even if my brain shrunk to the side of a goldfish, I'd never forget.

It wasn't exactly the homecoming reunion I had in mind. I wasn't as shortsighted as I may seem sometimes now, before I even departed for the journey home, I was long expecting something memorable to happen already.

After almost a year apart, after everything that's happened, hell, it'd be a more bizarre notion if nothing happened at all. But out of all things I could imagine, I never expected, well.. this.

Not even an hour I was back, and already I had to bear witness as my loving, gentle mom deliberately, deviously attempted to commit a cold-blooded homicide before my very eyes.. and then not even five minutes later, I went and threw my hat in the ring against her in a desperate bid to make her see reason, and ever so promptly after, the stage was set, the match had commenced..

It was now my magic against hers.

But first - a feast. Because despite everything that's happened, this was still a family reunion, after all. Plus, mom made cake.. chocolate too. And who am I to deny her insistence.

Let me tell you, it was the most uncomfortable dining experience I've ever had so far. Sitting at a table far too small to fit all, forcing every bite down my throat, as Mom, and by proxy Dad, arriving ten minutes late, dined away as if this was simply indeed just a wholesome tender family reunion.

The smile on her face forgetting all that's transpired, the tone of her voice light and free of any troubles. Insisting Adalia take seconds and thirds if she could, inquiring Ash what she thought of the meal, while Dad simple ate his in silence, as always.. and the only detraction from such a seemingly picture-perfect scene was the vacant chair across from mine where Sammy's plate laid empty and shining a pristine white. Mom ignored that too, she did a good job pretending to, at least.

I could still recall every word said over dinner, the every clatter of a plate, the every scrape of a fork, the smell of Mom's cooking after an eternity longing for it - like I said, with memory, it was all about presentation. Today was a new day, a new morning.. and yet I could still so easily relive that fateful evening.

"Oh, you have dark rings around your eyes," He pointed out, his first words of a new morning. "You didn't sleep. I know because I don't sleep sometimes, and I get the same things too."

Just awoken, a new environment, unfamiliar surroundings. A reasonable person would at least question how they wound up rousing awake atop a blanket of hay, and yet the only thing he had to say about anything was only about how much I look like a deform, overgrown raccoon. Truly indeed, he has his priorities straightened out, alright.

Whatever, it makes my job a whole lot easier. The fewer questions from him, the better.

Silently, I shuffled closer towards him, careful with my balance, stepping over hoses, buckets, and stray horse hooves scattered about the place. I took care not to stray too near the stables - the horses here have little regard for manners - I take a step too close, and by the time I reach him, the tray of food I was holding in my hands would wind up being a tray of nothing.

Since Harry was at great risk being near the house, for the time being, I had to improvise.. and thanks to my genius ingenuity, I figured our barn nearby wouldn't be so bad of a temporary hospice.

Ash helped with the transport, I did the rest. Finding the perfect spot, making the bed, tying his ankle to a beam nearby as a precaution. Even now, I still feel like some kind of psycho kidnapper seeing him there. Doesn't help that I'm serving him breakfast in a place literally designed for animals.

A bit of toast, some eggs, and a glass of orange juice for good measure. He shouldn't have any complaints.. then again, he probably doesn't know how to complain either way.

"Eat," I said to him, gently placing the tray by his feet. "Put it to the side when you're done. I'll clean it up later."

Some stray bits of hay clung to his wrinkled face, his black-gray tousled hair. He didn't bother brushing them away, just like he didn't bother with his newfound environment. Instead, once more, he lifted his gaze up towards me.

"You're pale too," He said, his dried lips molding to their usual smiling state. "I learned that when you're pale, that means you're getting weak. I was weak for some days too. I was pale just like you."

"Good for you," I replied back oh so jolly, heaving a grunt as I stood back up, turning around to go a second round playing obstacle course with barnyard items all the way out the door.

"Terestra isn't helping you, right?" Harry's voice bounced across the withered wooden walls. "That's why you have rings, that's why you're so pale."

Okay, I'll take it back. Maybe an overload of questions would be much more preferable than anything he has to say. historical

"I told you not to ask her. I told you she won't help. I told you so. You didn't listen. And you see? I'm still here."

The worst part about hearing him speak was that he wasn't at all smug about it, he didn't sound conceited, vain, gleeful to have me be proven wrong. No, every word from his lips came empty of feeling. Like it was just a simple fact of life, as if yesterday evening's events were all aligning within expectations.

"Oh, you tied me," He said, as if realizing the fact just then, a faint rustle sounding and the muffled thud of a foot. "You're not letting me go. You're not giving up yet, why?"

"Why would I?" I asked.

"Because Terestra didn't help you," He answered. "You don't have any more plans. So now you either kill me, or you let me go. But you're not doing either now.."

"Wow, guess that means I ain't out of plans, after all. How nice."

"Yes," He paused, and I heard him take a hard crunch of the toast, then chewing loudly, he continued. "What's your plan now? What are you going to do?"

I reached the barn entrance, briefly stopping once to breathe, holding firm onto one of the edges of the door for support. My head tingling, my breath heavy, I said, "I'm going to go and make myself even paler."

Once outside, the tingling barely got better. Occasional breaks, twenty minutes, preferable in places I found comforting, that's what Irene and the others had battered in my head during my brief crash course of magic 101.

Well, I was in home sweet home.. ain't no other place like it. I can take my twenty minutes pretty much anywhere. Perhaps, I should take it now, actually..

I looked up at the skies, blazing orange. The air still chilly and moist. It was early, very early.. so much early that I've even beaten the roosters to the punch. As far as I know, everyone else was still fast asleep.. and as far as they know, I should be too. Except only I wasn't.

I tried too..

Except only that I couldn't.

I kept telling myself I shouldn't. I snuck away once I was sure nobody would be the wiser, and from the midnight light to the morning dawn, I went to work trying to bring down that barrier.

Except only that I couldn't.

From experience, my only headway in terms of progress was being able to sense and feel the barrier for myself. I put my hands over it, towards the empty air where it encapsulates, and I could feel my palms pressing against a wall, except only that it was a wall that constantly shifted and rippled. Like a heavy gust of wind given physical form.

And that was as far as I got.

It was frustrating, demoralizing.. and I'm sure had I been the me a couple of months, or even weeks back, I'd be undoubtedly drowning in those frustrating, demoralizing thoughts.

But the frustrations only bolstered my efforts. Every failure just kept reaffirming my conviction, my resolve. I was going to do this, there was no 'if' about it, her barrier will fall.. one way or another.

The cold morning breeze blew past me, nipping away at my fatigue, but inversely, also at my strength. You know it's bad when a little gust has got you stumbling back like you're a piece of cloth hanging on a wire.

Yeah, know what? I needed rest.