Her gentle lean into his strong embrace kindled something him—something like hope. And it was this hope, along with her delicate scent of sunshine and lilies, the followed him to the shadows, intermittently lit by the Lights’ aqua-green glow. And she followed him, a breathless and bright smile lighting a face he had come to know so well; yet had been so distant from for so long. His massive body stilled, navy eyes tracing the light lines that danced around her eyes and face as she spoke. her words were excited, her voice vibrant and keeping even the shadows they stood in at bay.

“We’re all going back to the Edge.”

He stood still and silent for a few, long heartbeats. He had, for all the reasons his past had repeatedly given him, unknowingly prepared himself for no. For further denial and more time without the woman he loved. But this—

For the first time since he had gazed on the life of his first (and now dead) son, he felt a heat burn his throat. He was still unmoving, even as she gently pressed her warm, smooth cheek against the scarred hide of his neck. But he does not allow himself to cave beneath the joy, the euphoria, that implodes in him like the very fireworks that had drawn him to her. No, for there are things—so many truths— that their love must climb up and stand upon before he or she can accept this answer.

“Rexanna, mpenzi, you cannot know how happy—how incredibly happy—you saying this makes me,” his voice, hoarse and deep, hitched only once in his words before he soldiered on, “But there are things you must know—things I must tell you.” He paused, the silence heavy and weighted as own guilt warred with the pride of the foals.

“I have children. Foals by other mares in the Edge,” and so the truth began to rip ragged, jagged holes in his throat as he, without any pretense or cover for his faults, told her everything, “Hawezi, he has gone missing. But he is by Elsa, a woman I respect and still deeply care for. I told her you were coming to live with me in the Edge, after we—after we conceived the twins, and she… I think the hates me for it.”

His massive body shifted away from Rexanna’s silken warmth, his navy seeking her cerulean as he continued to flagellate his confessions to her, “Adaeze, the woman who gave you our children’s names—Zubari and Katua are mine, with her. She and I share a history, and I was directly responsible for the death of her child in Dorobo. So I gave her another chance at being amother—and it would be a lie to say I do not care for her. I cannot apologize for my children, Rexanna. Just as I cannot ask you to apologize for Rein. But I am sorry if this hurts you. You must believe me when I tell you that hurting you is the last thing I want. But I owe you these truths.”

He paused, one last weight heavily weighing on him. A last truth, a final confession; one he did not want to tell but one he knew he must, if he wished for this new start with Rexanna to be an honest, true one.

“And Orithia, the woman who drove you from the Edge—” his navy eyes glanced away, up to the skies that danced merrily, without any thought or care to the holes the Elephant was ripping into his own chest, “She is a resilient woman, but also a broken one. I have shared myself with her, and I have feelings for her. But I do not forgive her for what she has done to you—to us.” The last word was said quietly, almost a whisper (a prayer?); so fragile a word that he nearly daren’t say it aloud, for fear it would shatter beneath the weight of his sins.

— My dear, but if I make the Pearly Gates

I’ll do my best to make a drawing of God and Lucifer,

a boy and girl,

An angel kissin’ on a sinner.