He held his breath, waiting for his mother’s response as she looked to the sky. He, too, wondered which of her sides he would get an answer from. To be honest, he wasn’t sure even when he did get his answer whether it was the goddess or the mother that encouraged him towards the Edge.

The Edge.

The idea that she offered to him wasn’t without its own complications but what wasn’t complicated in Mesec’s life? He found that he wanted this chance at happiness, at something as close to a normal life as the son of the Goddess could possibly get - the chance at a family. Not a family that he was offered out of pity, that he clung to for the sake of one lightning mare, but one that was actually his. One that could be whole.

Whether Ki’irha would warm to the idea of taking the kids out of the Basin or whether young Vesper and Virga would even want to follow their father were problems that he could face but they were blessedly ordinary problems. Even if ordinary was only a temporary state, it was still welcome.

After being plagued for a year by the warg, by the mere idea that he could accidentally hurt someone (and finally - hurting one of those he cared about the most), he welcomed this chance. His heart leapt at it with such ferocity, clinging to the possibilities that his mother dangled before him, that it was almost easy to forget the rift he had felt between them after finding out his mother was responsible for her murders across Helovia. Perhaps this was a trick, perhaps he shouldn’t leap so readily, but Mesec’s hope blinded him. Even Lucius, ever his vocal conscience, found the proposition tempting.

Home.

Could that be the Edge? After all this time? Raising his own children in the herd where he had taken his own first steps in Helovia? And she enchanted him with the lure of learning from her as well. All (no, just most) of his family together.

He wondered if he had even a hope at denying her as she said please, extending her wing out to him. He took his time in mulling it over - what else could he do? - but in the end there really was only one answer.

Before confirming it vocally, he reached out for her - the faintest spark of a smile in those hollow eyes and giving some echo of warmth to his empty voice. “Yes.” He’d have time to sort out his thoughts later, to figure out whether this impulsive move was actually good idea or if he was just scrambling for any chance of hope in his grief. “I think you’re right. It’s time to go home.”