Afon awoke under the gentle kiss of sunlight. The memories of the previous day were hazy - she knew she had collapsed downstairs. Someone must’ve brought her upstairs, someone strong, likely Fern or Deryn. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, her breath laboured. The sun carried a gentle invitation beckoning her to awake for one more day, but Afon could not promise that she would make it through. She’d known her time on this earth had been near its end for a while. She was certain this day was her last.
Her senses slowly returned to her. The duvet crushing on her frail legs, her skin cold despite the warm sunlight across her face and a small fire burning passionately in the fireplace in the corner of her room. Native birdsong rang as usual outside her window, but their melodies were dulled to her ears. And her mouth was incredibly parched, and her stomach was a void. As she stretched her frail fingers, she felt a cold clutch in her hands. “She’s awake!” Eira shouted.
Footsteps thundered up the staircase as Fern burst into her room. Fern’s presence warmed her fading soul, but her sudden embrace left Afon briefly breathless. “Grandma,” Fern sobbed into her chest.
Aeron struggled up the stairs shortly thereafter, his makeshift cane clacking along as he did. Afon’s eyes welled up with tears as she looked to him, the memories of the previous day flooding her mind. In spite of her best efforts, her healing magic had not managed to avoid the scar now strewn across his face. Still, she reminisced at how beautiful her boy was. He reminded her so much of her father, and of his own father, her late husband. His shoulders still weighed heavy with his wisdom and practice, but in a sense, his scar showed a new form of wisdom, one gained from experience. He was exhausted and beaten, but alive. That was all she could have asked for.
Eira moved aside as Afon used all her might to reach for her son. He took her hand and knelt at her bedside. “Mother, thank you.” Aeron began to sob. “Mother, I’m so sorry. I should have never gone into the forest. You were right.”
Afon went to sit up in her bed, but struggled. Eira approached, pulled some cushions up behind her, and propped her up. Afon thanked them, and caressed Aeron’s face. “It’s okay, my love. You were only doing what you thought was right.”
Aeron sniffled. “It’s not fair though. You’ve paid for my bad choices. It’s just not fair!”
A stray tear ran down Afon’s face. “I’ve been doing that for your whole life, my love. Raising a child requires constant sacrifice. That’s what unconditional love means,” she said weakly. “Everything I’ve done and said to you has been to ensure that you have a good, peaceful life. A better life than me.” She stroked Fern’s hair, her granddaughter still lying on her empty stomach. “And so that you can ensure that Fern has a better life than you, than both of us.”
Fern rolled off her grandmother, teary eyed, and grabbed her other hand. “But we’re meant to help you have a better life too, grandma. You should’ve let us help you this whole time. I could’ve helped you yesterday with healing dad.” Fern’s voice shook, her hand trembling in Afon’s.
Afon smiled lightly, but her chest weighed with the sure knowledge that Fern was right. She caressed her granddaughter’s face. “Perhaps so, my love. I’m sorry.”
She heard the creak of the stairs before Deryn walked in carrying a tray with tea, some berries, and some meat from his latest hunting catch. He placed the tray at Afon’s bedside table. “I’m glad to see you awake, Afon.” His voice was steady, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his relief. He beckoned to the door. “Let’s give them some space, Eira.” Eira nodded, and planted a cold kiss on Afon’s head, which warmed her inside, before they left with Deryn.
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Afon tightened her hands around her progenies’. “I love you both so much.” Tears were fully flowing down her face now. “Believe me when I say that everything I’ve done throughout your whole lives has been with your best interests at heart. Including healing you, Aeron. It has taken its toll on me, but it ensures that my legacy flows on through you.”
“Fern could have helped you, mum. I could’ve helped you too, if only you taught me,” Aeron sobbed. “I never knew that magic was possible. You should’ve taught me!”
“I know my love. I taught you what I thought was best - a faith in science, in pragmatism, in reality. That magic has brought untold pain on our people because it is reliant on those herbs, and the people who cultivate them. And it was strictly forbidden because of the covenant. I only broke that sacred oath to save you, Aeron. But I would never have broken it to teach you all of what I know.”
“What is the ‘covenant’, grandma?” Fern asked through sniffles.
“I’ve told you both about how the forest people used to raid our lands in my youth. We used to live in harmony, we sewed and cultivated and lived side-by-side, in peace. But human nature knows no limitations. Our greed grew. We invented new techniques, our harvests grew, our population exploded. We needed more medicine, more herbs, more meat, and we raided the forest for them. They raided us in return. The river wasn’t immune to our newfound greed either. Eventually it led to all out war - first against the land, then against the forest people. We made the land and the herbs fight for us. It took a toll on both of our peoples and the land, so we made an agreement - a covenant - to live in harmony, to trade instead of steal. We agreed not to encroach on each other’s land. This was the legacy the generations prior passed to me to uphold, and its kept us safe for a long time, but I had to break it to keep us safe now. I’ve chosen to carve my own legacy by saving you, my son.” Aeron looked away.
“Do not be ashamed, Aeron. Things have changed since then, and that means we need to change too. You made a sacrifice for me, for Fern, and for the village. You put your life on the line. You should be proud of that. You’re just like your grandfather, who made the ultimate sacrifice for me.”
“Thank you mum. It’s not fair though,” Aeron choked out. His eyes widened and he began to shake, almost certain that his breaking the covenant would have wider consequences beyond just Afon’s condition. “You’ve paid for my mistakes. And the whole village will pay. It should’ve been me-“
With all her might, Afon sat up to embrace Aeron, who sobbed uncontrollably into her chest. Fern felt frightened seeing her father so broken.
“My love, this was my choice to make. Every sacrifice I’ve made, every hardship I’ve endured, was to ensure that you wouldn’t have to make the same sacrifices or endure the same hardship for yourself or for Fern. I have faith in you,” she reached over to Fern, “in both of you. Our plight is not just ours, but our whole people’s. And I’m sure this pain is felt all across the outside world too, not just here. The plains and the forest are just two parts of a wider ecosystem - there is more beyond both of our worlds. And something dark is happening to the river, something beyond our control. I know you both can fix it.”
Afon’s breathing became wheezy, and she collapsed back into her pillows. Her mind struggled to form any thoughts. The fire within her began to fade, but she kept it burning. Fern shouted out for Eira, who rushed back upstairs with Deryn.
Eira propped Afon back up on her pillows. “We’re here for you, Afon. Just like you’ve always been here for all of us.” Eira ran their hands across Afon’s forehead, soothing her.
“Listen to me, all of you. Whatever is going on, whatever happens next, I’m confident that you can fix it. People can fix anything, especially when they work together, when they love and trust each other.” She hacked up a ball of phlegm. Eira wiped her face clean with their sleeve. Afon felt herself slipping from this world, but summoned one last breath. “Our darkest days are always temporary. If a brighter future doesn’t come, you must create it yourself. I love you all … so much.”
As Afon faded from this world, the fire in the corner of her room raged, and the birdsong grew deafening. Aeron wailed as Deryn held him. Eira weeped as they embraced Afon. Fern could’ve sworn she heard the river’s torrent rage. She placed her head to her grandmother’s warm hand, burying every one of her grandmother’s last words deep in her heart.