by Daryl Banner
But Kid isn’t so easily pacified. A month goes by of spontaneous vanishing. In a matter of two months, Kid starts panicking. She cries to Fae in the dark of one Sunday night that she feels like she’s slowly disappearing from the world. “Is this a consequence of the time-walking??” she asks Fae through broken waves of sobbing. “Did we make a big mistake? Are we slowly wiping me out of existence??”
“No,” Fae says to her, talking in that same vague voice that’s not as reassuring as it’s meant to be. “You’re fine. It’s just a result of—”
“Growing up. Maturing. Yeah, I heard it already. Link says it over and over. But why can’t you do anything about it??” Kid blurts, maddened and hysterical.
Fae lifts her eyebrows. “Me?”
“You’re a Goddess!” Kid feels her voice rising. She knows she’s being unreasonable, but she pushes the point anyway. “You have all the powers! You have every Legacy! Why can’t you fix everything? Why couldn’t you save Ames??”
“Ames??” Fae blinks, as if she’s forgotten who that even is.
“Why can’t you just time-walk us back to the present? Why can’t you save Link from dying whenever Baron dies? Why can’t you stop me from fading away??”
“Akidra, please …”
“MY NAME’S KID!” she screams suddenly. “NOT AKIDRA! IT’S NEVER BEEN AKIDRA TO ME! IT’S ALWAYS BEEN KID!!”
Without hearing any more of her words, Kid races out of the back sliding door and cuddles herself in a corner of the backyard by the fence, crying out all of her tears under a careless moon half-eclipsed by a faraway arm of the Lifted City. She stares at that moon until the sobbing dwindles away and all she’s left with is a ringing in her ears and an ache in her chest.
But no amount of crying frees her from her circumstance. The bouts of vanishing become so frequent that after little Akidra has had her fifth birthday, Kid’s natural state of being is invisible all the time, and it is now turning visible that takes the conscious effort.
With Akidra being five now, the clock of doom in Kid’s mind ticks louder than it’s ever ticked before. She has to have the talk with Link—and soon.
“Do you think you’ll ever call her ‘mother’?” Link asks one day when they’re chatting quietly in the kitchen. Faery is busy playing with Akidra in the den, the broadcast emitting a simple tune.
“Probably not,” Kid admits. “Not any more than I’d call you dad. That seems weird.”
“It does,” Link agrees with a light chuckle, leaning against the counter as he watches the sun slowly set beyond the Wall.
Kid is straining so much to remain visible right now that she’s getting a headache, but she hides that fact from Link and tiredly says, “I want to share something with you.”
“What’s that?”
“You remember … the last memory I have … of my parents?”
Link thinks about it. “The masked men …?”
“Yeah. When I was six. The masked men coming in, and my dad being killed … and my mom …”
Link doesn’t need any more prompting, his eyes going wide as the very same thought occurs to him. “Akidra’s five …”
“I was young when it happened,” says Kid. “Maybe I was only five. Maybe I wasn’t six yet. I don’t know. The face of my father and my mother is so foggy in my memory, but it has to be you and her. And the masked men … they will come.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” reasons Link.
“They have to,” Kid stubbornly pushes on. “The problem with my memory is, they come inside the house and … and they kill you. Except—”
“Except I can’t die,” finishes Link, his eyes narrowing as he thinks it over. “But Kid, how do we know these masked men will even come at all? No one knows we’re here except the Reedas and they wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”
“We need to have a plan anyway,” Kid insists, gritting her teeth as she keeps visible for as long as she can stand. “They might come. And we have to be prepared.”
Link huffs and folds his arms, at a loss. “What am I supposed to do, Kid? Are we supposed to hide from them? Move away? Stop them? Like I said, they don’t even know we exist.”
“I … have a theory.”
Link lifts an eyebrow, listening. Kid sighs, trying to gather her thoughts as she wrings her hands. She feels herself slipping in and out of visibility. Link doesn’t seem to react, despite it happening.
Kid begins. “Baal knew that the Goddess went missing. Right?”
Link’s eyes flash, likely surprised with the mention of that foul name he hasn’t heard in years. “U-Um, right,” he stammers.
“We may be able to assume, then, that there is a slim possibility that someone else might know she’s missing. Like, maybe Sanctum. Or the King himself.”
Link keeps following. “Okay.”
“What if the masked men … are the King’s men?”
Link shrugs. “So?”
“What if these masked men … are coming here for Fae? What if someone recognized her at the hospital five years ago? What if the wrong person asks the Reedas the wrong question and that’s what leads them to us? What if the masked men are just trying to reclaim their missing Goddess—regardless of whether or not she’s actually a Goddess or whatever?”
His lips purse as he stares irritably at the wall ahead of him, mulling over this picture Kid is painting before his eyes. He clearly doesn’t like the picture.
“They might just be killing you because you’re in the way,” Kid goes on. “They’ll come here looking for Fae. They want her back.”
“You’re saying she’s the reason the masked men come and kill me and … and take away everything you hold dear? That nightmare you’ve carried with you your whole life? It’s because of her?”
“Yes. Sort of. Doesn’t it make sense?”
Link sighs, shaking his head and staring down at the ground. “I don’t know what the solution is. Should Fae be taken somewhere safe? Are we being fools, staying in this house?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Link stews on it awhile longer, leaning against the counter and drumming his fingers along his chin. Soon after, Kid relieves herself of the agony of staying visible, allowing her body to slip into its far more comfortable state of being unseen, vanished, gone.
In the den a few nights later, Fae seems somewhat withdrawn as she rests listlessly on the couch staring at the broadcast, which is turned off and displaying nothing. “Are you okay, Faery?” asks Kid invisibly, to which she only gives a mild nod and a tightened smile, turning onto her side and hugging herself. “Are you sure?” Kid asks again, to which Fae just nods again, staring now at the floor.
On a morning after Akidra is fed her breakfast and plays in the backyard with Link, chasing him around in circles and laughing, Fae speaks up. “I think you and Link should live a long and happy life.”
Kid is unrested by the words at once. “And you, too,” she adds.
“Of course. I meant us, yes,” says Fae, her voice collapsed.
Kid takes Fae’s hand and draws her into the invisible world with her, if anything so that her mother can see her face. “We’re all going to live a long, happy life together. Your old life, no matter what it was, no matter if you were a prisoner, or lived in some other realm with your … Sisters, or … or whatever. You don’t have to live like that ever again. You’re with us, now.”
Fae nods, her eyes drifting along Kid’s face with longing. “It’s a privilege to be able to raise you as a child … and also see the brilliant results of you as a growing teenager … both at the same time.” Fae smiles and presses a hand to her daughter’s fifteen-year-old cheek. “I really miss my sisters. I feel, in some ways, I may have abandoned them. I wish I could share this freedom with them, too.”
Kid struggles with a word on her tongue, but instead of uttering it, she says the name instead. “F-Faery … Maybe we can find a way to free them, too.”
“I don’t know how. I wouldn’
t know where to begin looking.”
Still, even in this moment, Kid can’t bring herself to call her ‘mother’. She just sighs and feels her eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t abandon them. We’ll free them. We will free them and they can live with us. I never knew I had two all-powerful aunts.”
Fae smiles ruefully. “I am not all-powerful, sweetheart.”
“You’re a Goddess.”
“I don’t know what I am, Kid. The longer I’m here, the more … human I feel. I gave Link’s Legacy back when we first met, but now I can’t …” Fae shakes her head, looking away, her hand slipping from Kid’s face and landing in her lap. “I can’t think how I did it. Did I give up my own power to be here? I don’t know. I feel so powerless.”
Kid feels a stupid tear escape down her cheek. Why am I crying? “You’re not powerless.” Just call her ‘mom’. Call her your ‘mother’. Do her just this one kindness, Kid …
Faery’s mouth tightens with resolve. “No. Not totally powerless. There is … yet … a thing I can do.”
Kid nods, encouraged. “Yes. You’re not powerless.” Mom. Mom. Mother. Kid puts her arms around Fae and hugs her tightly. Mom. Just say it. Mom. Mom. Mom. But the two only hug one another in the quiet room, which is soon assaulted by the laughter and glee of Link and Akidra, who spill inside from the back, and then dinner is made and the words shared between Kid and Fae are forgotten.
The next morning, the front door shuts softly, but Kid hears it from the upstairs room.
Kid heads down the stairs and steps out of the front door, invisible, and peers both ways down the street. She sees no one and nothing. Who opened and closed the front door?
She’s in the den the next instant. “Fae? … Fae?” She steps into the kitchen and finds it empty, too. With a glance into the backyard through the sliding glass door, she sees Link sitting on the step watching little Akidra in the yard.
When she pulls open the door, Link lifts his face. “Hey there, Kid,” he says, despite not being able to see her at all. “Look. You’re playing in the yard,” he teases.
“Have you seen Fae?” she asks, her voice tensed.
Link’s eyebrows pull together. “She’s in the den.”
“No, she’s not.”
Link joins her as they check every room in the house. They look in the front yard again, seeing no one. Link gives a quick knock on the neighbor’s door, thinking Fae might have stopped by to ask for a pinch of salt or some spice, but even Ms. Reeda says she hasn’t seen Fae. The panic is evident on both Link and Kid’s faces when they regroup in the kitchen, overcome with fear and arguing frantically about when’s the last time they each saw Fae.
Akidra comes in from the backyard, staring up at them. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
Link and Kid look down at her, silenced at once. Akidra only stares at her father, as Kid is invisible. Link crouches down. “Sweetie. When’s the last time you saw your mommy?”
“After we eated.”
Link nods. “Yes, after breakfast. She was in the den watching the broadcast. Then you came into the backyard where I was. Did she say anything to you before you left her?”
“She saided she’d be right back,” answers little Akidra.
Kid puts a hand over her mouth and turns away, all the fears she’d held back in a dam of her own creation are bursting forth, flooding her heart and her brain and her eyes with memories she had long thought were dead.
Link’s own face must reflect a similar fear because Akidra asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.” Link pulls the little girl to him, hugging her tightly as he turns his head to look in Kid’s direction, despite her being invisible. “She’ll be back,” he promises his daughter—perhaps both of them. “She’ll be back.”
A few moments later when Akidra is occupied with toys in the den, Kid and Link sit across from one another at the dining room table. “I have a plan,” says Kid at once.
“It’s happening,” whispers Link in fear, “just as you said.”
“Listen.” Kid is holding his hand so that he is invisible with her and can see her. “I think Fae was trying to protect us. I should have listened and stopped her. I think she’s either trying to turn herself in to the ones coming after her, or else she’s looking for her sisters. She feels like she abandoned them. She wants to free them, too.”
“You didn’t tell me any of this,” says Link, almost an accusation.
“Whatever she’s gone to do,” Kid goes on, ignoring his protest, “the masked men are going to come back for you tonight.”
“I know,” hisses Link tersely, trying to keep his voice down so that Akidra hears none of this.
“We both know you won’t actually die,” says Kid, “but I need you to pretend like you do.”
Link lifts his eyebrows incredulously. “Pretend to die?”
“Let the masked men think they’ve killed you. Then, when they take your body away, I’m going to follow them. If we find out where the masked men take you …”
“Then we could find Fae, assuming they took her.”
“Fae. Maybe her sisters too. And maybe …” Maybe Aryl. But she keeps that name to herself. “Maybe I’ll get answers that I’ve, all my life, been waiting for.”
“No.”
Kid stares at him. “No?”
“I can’t do that to little Akidra. I can’t—I can’t do that to my little girl,” he finishes.
“I’m your little girl. I’m the same person,” Kid states, feeling silly in needing to say that. “You need to do this.”
“I can’t let her think I’m dead. I can’t let her see me get killed in front of her.”
“Link, you need to,” Kid insists. “If you don’t, think about how that might affect … things to come! You’ll wreck the entire path my life takes! All the lessons I’ve learned! You’ll destroy the very thing that makes me … me.”
“But …” Link gives a rueful, pained glance over his shoulder at the little girl in the den, playing with her toys and oblivious to the words they exchange.
Kid watches the little girl too. She’s been so used to her, the little girl literally feels like a completely different person. Is it that Akidra truly is a different person, or have I simply become a different person myself, grown up so fast into a young woman that I don’t identify with the little girl who can turn invisible anymore?
“She … will be fine,” Kid assures him with an ironic half smile. “I’ve been running from the masked men since I was a child … since I was her. She will be just fine. This is my journey, Link. This is my journey … and I won’t run anymore.”
Link sighs. Then he faces her importantly. “This ends tonight.”
“This ends tonight,” she agrees.
After the sun falls and all that can be heard in the house is the dancing of leaves and the swaying of trees outside, Kid stands invisibly by the foot of the stairs, her stomach iron hard and her eyes ready for who—or what—comes through that door. Link is visibly tensed, sitting in a chair at the dining room table, staring at the door with intention. Neither of them move, waiting for the thing to happen … the thing that might or might not even happen.
Kid looks up suddenly. A shadow just crossed past the window, she could’ve sworn. “Did you see that?” she whispers.
Link’s eyes are on the window too, his ears perked, listening.
Another shadow passes by a window near the den.
Link is on his feet. “Akidra,” he hisses. She looks up from her pile of toys in the den, her eyes bright and curious. “Come over here, sweetheart,” he whispers.
The girl abandons her toys at once, her eyes filled with worry in an instant, and comes up to Link. She is alert and she is quick, Kid notes, watching herself as a child. I’d always thought those were skills I developed on the street when I was on my own … but maybe I always had them.
Link crouches down to her level. “Akidra, I need you to hide,” he tells her quietly. “Do what you d
o. Use your Legacy.”
“My Legnasy,” little Akidra repeats. “Is something wrong?”
“Hide,” he repeats to her. “Go. Hide.”
Without asking another question, the little girl hurries to the dining room table and crouches under it.
There is a knock at the door.
Link glances back at Kid one last time, as if to question whether this is truly what they want to do. His eyes don’t meet hers exactly, since she is invisible, but the remarkable accuracy with which he seems to guess her location makes Kid feel like he’s the only one in the whole world who will ever truly see her, invisible or not.
Then he turns the doorknob and pulls open the door.
One loud explosion from a gun throws Link backward from the door, slamming onto the ground. He turns his face, staring now at the spot under the table at which little Akidra is hiding invisibly. In the mess of masked figures who pour through the door—twelve of them, to be exact—Link’s eyes search for his little girl under the table.
Kid flattens against the wall as a pair of masked men scurry up the stairs to check the rooms up there. She hears their heavy footfalls as they rush through the bedrooms as well as the den and kitchen at her back. “Nothing,” calls someone from upstairs, a woman by the sounds of it. “No one down here,” shouts someone from the den.
The two rush past her again on the stairs, then step over Link’s body on their way out of the door. The others from downstairs start to vacate the house. One of them stops by Link and checks for a pulse, then leans their masked face in to listen for breathing—neither of which they find. When they scurry out of the door, leaving it wide open in their departure, the house falls silent.
Kid doesn’t move a muscle. She sees Akidra under the table as she stares at her father, wide-eyed and unmoving. She neither cries nor moves a muscle. She is smart enough not to speak or to get up from under the table or to return to the world of the visible.
All the while, Kid’s heart slams in her chest, but she refuses to be unrested by the nightmares bubbling up from within her at the reliving of this scene. This time, I end it. This time, I will get to the very bottom of these masked men and their vile practice.
