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River forced herself to look away from her parents. She clenched her fists, her nails carving half-moons into her palms. The pain was good. It reminded her that she was alive, that even though her mother hated her, she was still here.

A sob tried climbing up her throat, and she choked it back. Fresh tears flooded her eyes, but these ones were different from the others. Born of grief and anger, isolation and loneliness, they were hot, stinging needles.

They formed for herself, for the endless suffering she’d endured over the years from a loveless relationship with her mother, but also, for what could’ve been. In another life, in another world, she could’ve had a mother who cared about her. Who loved her.

Instead, what did she have? A cold woman who chose not to love her only daughter. Who chose to leave her alone. Who chose not to care about her.

Gods above. There wasn’t enough therapy in the world to deal with this. River hoped Eliza was ready for her, because she would be filling every available appointment the therapist had from now until the end of time.

In the years after the Incident, River had been desperate for attention, love, and comfort. She’d yearned for someone to tell her that she wasn’t a monster, that she was more than just a bringer of death.

She had spent an incalculable number of nights crying alone, waking from never-ending nightmares.

Her brother had been there for her as much as he could be, but he’d been dealing with the fallout from her storm.

She wasn’t a fool; she knew how much that had taken from him.

Ryker had done everything he could for her, and she’d never be able to fully repay him for the sacrifices he’d made in her name.

He was an amazing brother, the best she ever could’ve asked for. She’d never hold it against him that he hadn’t been able to do more, hadn’t been able to give her the love she needed.

It wasn’t Ryker’s job to love her like a parent.

No, that was Tertia’s job responsibility, and she’d failed miserably. It turned out the Representative was capable of love, and she’d chosen not to love River.

Nails sliced through the soft skin of River’s palms, and she sucked in a breath as the scent of copper filled the air. She pulled her hands apart, eyes widening as crimson trailed down her fingers.

Neither of her parents looked up, still lost in their own moment, which was…

Who was she kidding? It was gods-damned awful. Her mother hated her. Truly despised her. What had River done to deserve this?

Her magic roiled in her veins, echoing the turmoil she felt deep in her soul.

I’m here, I’m here, it seemed to say. It called to her, pulled at her, sang to her . Lose yourself in me, it whispered seductively. Let your pain be our pain. Let us take it all away.

And gods, there was a part of River that wanted to do exactly that. Her magic had always been there for her, even when her mother hadn’t. Perhaps things would be easier if she gave in to its dark call and allowed it to consume her.

The only thing stopping her, the only thing keeping her from unleashing her power, was the Incident. Those screams, the waves, the faces of the dead and dying.

River shuddered as the cuts on her hands healed, thanks to her fae heritage. Part of her wanted to rip into her skin again, to keep the wounds fresh. Maybe that would be enough to cover the sting of her mother’s hatred.

Would she have still caused the Incident if she’d had her mother’s love?

Would she have been better equipped to deal with her magic?

Maybe, if her mother had loved her, River would’ve known what to do when the storm ripped out of her.

Maybe she could’ve stopped it. Maybe she wouldn’t have become a murderer.

The what-ifs and maybes were a swirling storm in River’s mind, and time passed in a haze. She remained in her thoughts until Tertia looked up, her eyes hardening as they landed on her.

Because, of course, she couldn’t look upon the daughter she despised with even an ounce of kindness.

“Ah, River.” Tertia’s words were coated in ice, and the temperature plummeted. “How nice of you to spend time with your father.”

As if River hadn’t spent hundreds of hours with him over the years. As if she hadn’t come in and watched every game of laser with him when she lived here, streaming them on her laptop and sitting in this very chair, talking to him, even when he couldn’t hear her.

Where was Eliza Fern when River needed her?

“Of course, I’m spending time with Dad,” she replied as calmly as she could. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Even if I’d been in Lakewater, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to be here.”

Tertia sniffed primly. “Yes, well. As you should.”

A growl rumbled through Cyrus, the sound an echo of the powerful fae male he should’ve been.

“Be kind, my dear. You’re talking to your daughter, and she’s been a very good girl.” Cyrus looked over at River, love shining in his eyes. “I’m very proud of you, darling.”

River’s chest swelled, and deep down inside, a piece of her broken soul repaired itself. Her mother might’ve hated her, but at least she still had her father’s love. At least he cared about her.

“I… all right,” Tertia murmured, kissing Cyrus’s cheek. “I shall try. For you.” And then, as if that wasn’t world-changing enough, Tertia turned towards River. “I suppose you haven’t caused any major problems lately, and that’s… good.”

River stared wide-eyed at the woman who had given birth to her. That was the kindest thing she’d ever heard coming from her mother’s mouth.

It was so astonishing that she barely heard the heavy footsteps careening down the hall.

“Dad.” Ryker’s deep baritone filled the room, and River squeezed her eyes shut as relief ran through her. Thank the Sands, he’d arrived in time.

Relinquishing her seat to her brother, River stood at the base of her father’s bed. She held onto the bottom rail with freshly healed hands, watching as her brother interacted with their parents. She listened as they talked, laughed, and cried.

It was good and right and everything a family should be. And yet, River didn’t feel whole or complete. There was a hole in her chest that grew the longer she watched her family. Something was missing.

She was surrounded by her family, by the people who were supposed to love her, yet her soul yearned for something else. Someone else. A hand to slip hers into, a warm chest to lean against as she took in the scene. For almonds and cedar and fresh air.

That night, Waterborn House wasn’t a tomb. It wasn’t quiet at all.

Laughter and conversation filled Cyrus’s room for hours, especially after Brynleigh shadowed in with bags of takeout the moment the sun set. They shared dinner around Cyrus’s bed, a family for the first time in years.

It wasn’t until the clock struck midnight that Cyrus started drifting off. He sagged against the bed as the Stillness dug its claws back into him. He slowly returned to that there-but-not-there state that the illness kept him in, slipping away from them once again.

Tears flowed freely. Kisses were exchanged. Promises were made. And eventually, they went their separate ways. Tertia, to her office. Ryker and Brynleigh, to their home.

And River went to her room.

Alone.