She was back in her mother’s secret room. She knelt amongst the sketches littering the floor. She touched each one of them tentatively, as if hoping they held a piece of her mother’s memory. She looked up at the sound of footsteps.

“Mom?” she whispered in disbelief, rising from her place on the floor.

The woman nodded in affirmation. This woman looked nothing like the woman she remembered. Her hair was long and such a lusterous black that it seemed to swallow all light. Her skin was a mix between porcalin and alabastor. Her hoary eyes sparkled with life that had never been present in them during Akira’s life, except when she was gazing at the picture of the man she drew.

“MOM!” Akira sobbed flinging herself into her mother’s embrace.

“What is it stjernelys?” her mother asked stroking her hair like she had when Akira was very small.

“I missed you,” Akira cried a little at her mother’s nickname for her.

Ever since her hair had turned white her mother had called her stjernelys, which meant starlight in Danish, saying she was her own piece of starlight. It was how Akira had grown to accept her hair after it’d turned white.

“I missed mit stjernelys too,” her mother murmured into her shoulder. “Mit stjernelys, there is so much I should have told you. So much I should not have kept from you or your father.”

Akira lifted her head from where it rested on her mother’s shoulder to look at her quizzically.

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“I don’t understand,” she began but her mother held up a hand and stopped her.

“In time, mit stjernelys, in time,” she told Akira. “Come with me.”

Her mother turned and held out her hand. Her eyes were soft and contained an emotion that Akira didn’t recognize. Akira took her hand without hesitation.

The scene around them began to spin and blur. By the time it cleared, Akira was dizzy. She found herself in a lecture hall, but it wasn’t on the Isles. Akira had a hard time decifering exactly where they were until the professor began to speak. They were in Spain! The doors to the lecture hall swung open with a deafening bang. Akira turned to see who was entering the hall but the glare of the lights obscured the person entering. He began speaking to the professor then made his way down the aisle towards where Akira was standing. He walked by her as if she weren’t even there.

“Of course you’re not actually here,” a voice said from beside her.

Akira whirled on the voice and found the same man from before.

“What the fuck?” she muttered. “Why are you here, AGAIN?”

The man ignored her and looked to where the younger version of her mother sat.

“She’s just as beautiful as I remembered,” he whispered.

“That’s right, you knew her,” Akira said turning back to the scene, which had changed while she was glaring at the man.

They were now in what looked to be a library and several months seemed to have passed. The man and her mother were sitting close together. Her mother was doing homework, it seemed, while the man beside her teased her. Akira moved closer but she still couldn’t make out their words. It seemed they were almost intimate. Suddenly, her mother slammed her book closed and stood from her chair. Akira hid a guaff of laughter behind her hand. The man standing beside her turned to her and looked at her in confusion.

“That definitely is my mother,” she chuckled. “Not that there was any doubt before.”

The scene changed again.

“Mamá’s cueva,” Akira breathed.