Chapter five

It had only been three days since Audrey agreed to walk away from her life, and she already regretted the decision.

"How much longer are we going to be out here?" she whined as she batted an overgrown fern out of her path. "We've been walking for days and you still haven't told me where we're going."

Several paces ahead, Welkin paused their long, brisk strides and waited for her to catch up. "Yes, I have. In fact, I've told you several times that we're going somewhere where we can safely nurture your abilities." They plucked a small twig from their daughter's ponytail and flicked it into the brush. "I understand that the journey is a long one, but trust me when I say it will be worth the effort."

"That's easy for you to say — you don't get tired!" Audrey said, watching Welkin's retreating back as they pressed effortlessly onward into the forest. She adjusted the straps of her pack in an effort to redistribute some of the weight digging into her shoulders. It had taken her hours to figure out how to distill her entire life down to what she could carry in a single backpack — a task made even trickier once she realized how little overlap there was between what she wanted to bring and what she needed to bring. Now, even after begrudgingly paring down her belongings to the bare minimum, she still felt like she was carrying an entire person around on her back. "There has to be a better way to get to wherever we're going — preferably one that doesn't involve endless hiking and living out of a tent."

Welkin stopped again. They turned to give their daughter a withering look. "I was under the impression that you enjoyed camping and being outdoors."

This made Audrey bristle. Hearing Welkin guess at what she did or didn't like only reminded her of how little they actually knew each other. She was acutely aware that this strange excursion was the most time the two of them had ever spent alone together. The many uninterrupted hours, without another soul to distract them, had done nothing to bring them closer. The air between them was still tense and awkward, their conversation still filled with uncomfortable extended silences. After all these years, they simply didn't know how to be with each other, and that made Audrey mad.

"Camping's different, and you know it," Audrey said, matching Welkin's glare with one of her own. "Besides, why do we have to be in the middle of nowhere to work on my abilities?"

"You know why," Welkin answered with thinly veiled frustration. "Your abilities are still unpredictable. It's safer for both yourself and others for us to work in seclusion."

It took every ounce of willpower Audrey had not to call Welkin out on their bullshit. Sure, her unchecked powers had had some... unnerving consequences. But she wasn't an atom bomb with a delicate fuse. She may not have known Welkin very well, but Audrey could always tell when people were holding out on her. There was definitely something that Welkin wasn't telling her.

Still, ever since setting Hedy's letter ablaze through sheer rage alone, Audrey was making an effort to keep her emotions in check. Though she would never admit it out loud, she was afraid of this awakening part of herself that she still didn't understand. So, rather than risking inadvertently starting a wildfire, she took a deep breath and unlatched her pack's hip belt and sternum strap.

"What are you doing?" Welkin balked. Their golden eyes followed Audrey's pack as she slid it off her shoulders and dropped it unceremoniously at her feet.

"Taking a break," she said. She made herself comfortable at the base of a massive old tree and leaned against it. The rough bark of its trunk felt better on her back than the weight of her pack, and that was saying something. "I may be half-Star, but I'm also half-human, and we actually do get tired."

For a tense moment, she thought Welkin was going to put up a fight. Their chest puffed up like a disgruntled bird, and their mouth pinched as if they were biting their tongue. They peered skyward and considered the sunlight streaming through the branches high above. "Very well. I suppose we have enough time for a brief rest."

Audrey grunted and got to work unlacing her hiking boots. She pulled her tired and swollen feet free and flexed her toes with a luxurious sigh of relief. She had never walked so much in her life, and her body wasn't happy about it. Everything ached, and she could feel the exhaustion right down to the marrow of her bones.

As she dug around for fresh bandages to cushion her blistering heels, Audrey could feel Welkin's eyes on her. They stood quietly for a minute or two before finally joining her on the cool ground. Their robes pooled elegantly around them like a lake of shimmering silk, and they folded their hands neatly on their lap. Stubbornly, Audrey refused to look at them, trying to punish them with her indifference. But she could still see them out of the corner of her eyes. Somehow, despite their ethereal beauty and shimmering golden pallett, Welkin didn't look out of place here in the forest. They were like an elusive woodland creature that only showed itself to the most patient of adventurers. It struck Audrey as deeply unfair that the Star fit more harmoniously into her world than she ever had.

"You're unhappy," Welkin said after one of their long silences. The two of them had been sitting in such perfect quiet that, even though Welkin spoke softly, Audrey still jumped. She looked up from bandaging her feet and was thrown by the mournful way Welkin gazed back at her.

She tensed reflexively. "Of course I'm unhappy. I apparently gave up my whole life just to wander around the woods." Then, remembering that she was supposed to be staying calm, she licked her lips and tried again. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired and I guess it's making me cranky."

"I'm not just referring to today, Audrey. This unhappiness in you... it runs deep. It's been festering for some time. Is there..." Welkin hesitated, fidgeting with their sleeves, "Would you like to talk about what's troubling you?"

The question hit Audrey like a suckerpunch to the gut; so much so that she literally felt as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs. For a split-second, she was too taken aback by Welkin's sudden softness to react. It was so rare for them to show any vulnerability, and Audrey wasn't sure what to do with it. But her surprise was quickly replaced by the familiar feeling of a match flaring to life somewhere deep inside, and she scowled.

"You're joking, right?" Audrey snapped as she carelessly crammed her feet back into her boots, and the roughness chafed painfully at her freshly bandaged blisters. She suppressed a wince and pretended that it didn't bother her.

"Of course not," Welkin said, their brow furrowing with confusion. "Why would you think that?"

Audrey scrambled to her feet and snatched her pack off the ground. Her heart was already pounding a dangerous rhythm against the dense bitterness that filled her chest. It felt like the hallway showdown with Hedy and their friends all over again, and Audrey knew that she needed to put some distance between herself in Welkin if she wanted to avoid another outburst.

"I can't have this conversation with you right now," she said as she forged past Welkin and deeper into the woods.

"Audrey, wait!" Welkin cried. Their alarm was palpable: Audrey didn't just hear it in their voice — she felt it in the air, as if the tiny molecules were trembling anxiously against her skin. "Please, tell me why you're so upset with me."

What Welkin didn't seem to comprehend was how their ignorance only added fuel to the fire burning in Audrey's core. Their pleas were like a shower of kerosene, and the blaze smoked out any lingering resolve Audrey had left. She whirled around and pinned the Star under a searing glare.

"Why do you think I'm upset with you, Welkin?" she shouted, the loudness of her voice filling the peaceful quiet of the forest. Welkin gestured helplessly.

"If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn't have asked."

"Right," Audrey seethed, "but if you actually gave a shit about me, you wouldn't have to ask in the first place. You wanna know why I'm so unhappy? I'm unhappy because I'm lonely. I'm not allowed to tell anyone what I am, and even if I could, I don't know what it means because you never tell me anything! Ever since Mom died you barely come to visit, and even when you do I can tell that you don't want to be here. How do you think that makes me feel to know that my parent resents me?"

Welkin's face fell. Their mouth worked silently, unable to respond. Audrey took advantage of their gobsmacked silence and kept railing.

"I know I'm not my mom, but I am your kid. It shouldn't have taken me going through Star puberty for you to want to be part of my life."

"Audrey," Welkin's voice was barely a whisper. "I could never resent you."

With a roll of her eyes, Audrey shouldered her pack and turned away from them. "For someone who's been alive for, like, a million years, you'd think you would have figured out how to tell a believable lie by now." She stormed off, thrashing through the brush and low-hanging boughs. "Just leave me alone, okay?"

The air rippled, and even though Welkin's movements were almost silent, Audrey could sense that they were hurrying after her.

"Daughter, stop," the Star pleaded. Audrey felt them drawing closer, and the storm of emotions raging inside of her reached a fever pitch. "We must stay together. It's not safe—"

Audrey whipped around again. The air surrounding her crackled with unseen electricity.

"I said leave me—" she stomped her foot heavily as she finished "—alone!"

As her foot connected with the earth, something inside of her exploded. A shockwave of violently bright energy shot forward like a shockwave from her foot and raced outward along the ground. Welkin barely had time to flinch out of the way, and the energy instead collided with the old tree that Audrey had been leaning against meer minutes before. A terrible crack rang out, echoing throughout the forest. Audrey gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth in shock.

Then came a deep, eerie creaking. The branches up above shuddered and swayed, and for a moment Audrey thought the trees had come to life. Instead, the old tree rocked perilously, and Audrey knew that it was falling. With a stomach-sinking lurch, the tree toppled. A symphony of splintering wood harmonized with the whooshing of the tree as it fell. It hit the forest floor with a thunderous crash that sent a small burst of air and scattering pine needles in every direction. The silence that followed was deafening.

Slowly, Welkin turned from the wreckage wearing an expression that Audrey couldn'y read.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean—"

She was cut off by a bellowing roar that rattled her bones. The look on Welkin's face morphed into one of wide-eyed fear, and they reached for her with a cry that was drowned out by the sound of something huge crashing through the trees.

Audrey didn't even have time to turn before something hard and unforgiving erupted from all sides and encased her completely until all that remained was complete and horrifying darkness.

And then, before she could so much as scream, the walls of this mysterious tomb began to contract.

It was then that Audrey realized that she was being crushed alive.

And somewhere in the suffocating darkness, Welkin was screaming.

***

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