Haze is content.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this.

Aziza asked Haze to come to her room when the moon was high in the sky. It was a secret meeting. Haze gets it. Aziza’s parents, the Kings and Queen still are wary of witches. That’s the nice way of saying they hate her, but feel obligated to let her stay because she saved Aziza.

So Haze snuck in.

The ethereal princess didn’t tell her how, so Haze took some liberties with that part. Safe to say, Aziza nearly blew their cover by gasping loudly when Haze used her magic to fly up to her balcony like a night owl.

Now they lay on said balcony, having dragged blankets and pillows from the pristine bed outside, staring up at the stars.

Haze has done this so many times with Nova in the Wild Thicket. Somehow the stars look duller here, but she’s just content to be next to Aziza without the hawk eyes on her.

As if Haze is a predator waiting to strike.

“What is the end goal, Haze?” Aziza asks, interrupting Haze’s thoughts.

Shifting so her body is directed towards Aziza, she meets Aziza’s dark, earthy eyes. “What do you mean?”

Mirroring her position, leaning her elbow on a lush pillow, she goes on to explain. “You and your sister strive to convince people to change societal stereotypes and preconceived notions. If that were to happen, what does that look like?”

The silence hangs between them. It isn’t because Haze doesn’t know how to answer. It’s that she is brought back to a very different time. Not one with Aziza or Ward or the castle.

One where she and Nova were much younger, in every sense of the word.

Aziza must take it as if Haze was unsure, so she elaborates further. “I guess I do not know what you are fighting so hard for. It has always been like this for as long as I can recall. How can you fight for something you do not know?”

Listening closer, it actually isn’t silent. Crickets chime a lullaby. A breeze gives a low whistle. The stars twinkle, almost audibly. It is in these noises that she hears a voice. One that Haze won’t ever forget:

“My mother used to tell me and Nova a story,” Haze begins.

She doesn’t speak of their mother often. This might be the first time mentioning her to Aziza. From her widening eyes, that’s probably true. The princess isn’t put off by it though. She holds this curiosity about her. Like a young animal genuinely wanting to explore.

“The story was of how the Oreza Kingdom came to be. It wasn’t a blossom right away, nothing ever is. It had to grow from something.”

Telling the story like her mother used to, Haze barely remembers where she is. The stars twinkle differently, the surroundings morph. The only indication of the time is Aziza’s even breathing next to her.

“My mother spoke of how the Wild Thicket and Oreza used to be harmoniously connected. Nature and man-made collided. Witches and knights coexisted. Stunning flowers grew on vines strengthening the castle’s walls. People’s homes were made in accordance to nature. The food was from what they grew themselves in the Wild Thicket. Nature was everywhere that people were.”

“That sounds magnificent,” Aziza says. Haze knows she means it too. Aziza is genuine. Similar to animals, what she presents is who she is.

Many people aren’t like that. But this princess is.

Shaking her head, getting back to the retelling, Haze continues, “Nova thinks it was a tall tale to give us hope.”

“What do you believe?”

Haze ponders that for a moment. Not many people ask her that. Actually, no one does, except for Nova.

No one not related to her cared about her opinion ever in her life.

“I believe every word. My mother rarely said things she didn’t mean with her whole heart. If she said that this world existed, then it did. And it can again. That is what I am fighting for.”

Reaching in the small gap between them, Aziza threads their fingers together. She brings this warmth, like she is producing sunlight and Haze is a flower.

“Then I will join you in that fight.”

OoOoO

“Do you believe what we’re doing is working?” Nova questions.

Ward turns his head slightly in surprise. They had been silent for while, just stargazing on the roof of the castle.

He knew she enjoyed the stillness of the night, so they simply sat next to each other, heads tilted up, her head on his shoulder.

“I believe so. What do you think?” He asks.

Her response is instant and automatic. “I believe in Haze.”

In times of confusion or uncertainty in her life, that is the one thing she could rely on. Haze. And being in the castle is a big question mark.

Neither of them go to move, so Nova knows he can’t see her face. But she can’t see his either. “That is what I have faith in. If you have such trust in her, then it will work. Eventually.” She imagines the soft smile on his, the uptick of the corner of his lips. Can practically hear it in his voice.

“My mom used to be like that. Hopeful,” she finds herself saying without realizing it.

It actually startles her with how much ease she brings her up.

Ward really is something.

She never thought she would be so comfortable with someone other than her sister.

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” he says, with a teasing lilt, lifting his shoulder up slightly.

Nova takes a moment and stares at the stars. It used to be one of her favorite things to do with their mom. She taught them constellations, using her finger to paint pictures in the sky.

She misses her.

The gentle breeze runs through her hair, bringing her back in time. In another place. “She was…the best person. Kind but determined. Delicate but unmoving. Magical but real.”

“You sound a lot like her.” Being compared to her mom both warms her heart and causes it to ache.

When their mom was here, things just felt easier. More attainable. Without her, Nova doesn’t know.

“I think I am half of those things. Haze is the much better half,” Nova admits. Because she is. Haze is so much like their mom, it hurts sometimes. She is so inherently good.

“I don’t any of those things are negative,” Ward asserts, taking her trembling hand (that she didn’t even know was shaking) in his.

His sun spreading warmth over her.

If she has Starshine as he calls it, he is the sun. Always there to make her feel better.

Gripping his hand, probably tighter than she realized, she continues speaking of her mom. “She used to tell me and Haze this story. It was a tale so grand that it could only exist in one’s dreams.”

Wistful. That’s probably what she sounds like right now. A tone she only has with certain people. Like two. Ok, only two. Haze and Ward.

She’s not quite there with Aziza, but with how close she and Nova’s sister are getting, they’ll get there. Haze doesn’t just fall for anyone.

“What was it about?” Ward interjects. The curiosity that she drew her to him coming out. She smiles, knowing he can’t see her at that moment.

Gosh she likes this guy.

“The Wild Thicket. And Oreza. In her story, they used to be one in the same. And then one day, they were separate.” Haze would make the story more elaborate. More beautiful. But Nova can’t with all the descriptors.

She’s not really a storyteller.

“She never said why or how?”

It is a question that has plagued Nova for a long time. There are many things her mom told them that she wishes she could talk to her about. Get more clarification. Or any.

Maybe things would make sense now.

“Nope. She wanted to focus on the nice part. But she did describe how the Wild Thicket saw it coming. The hatred towards witches. So it became the natural, ever changing labrynth to protect witches.”

It must be the way she said it because Ward catches onto her affection. “That’s why you’re so protective of the forest.”

“Even if I don’t believe in some parts of her tales, that has rung true. The woods have protected us. So I will guard them,” she affirms. Her intention is clear. Or at least clear to her.

The Wild Thicket is alive. They have protected them in times of need. Times that were some of the hardest of Nova’s life. So to repay them, she will do the same.

An unspoken chapter of her story hangs between them. But he doesn’t push. That’s one of the reasons she likes Ward. He knows when to push and when not to.

“Even if she made it up, you and Haze are doing it. You are bringing your mother’s story, her vision, to fruition.” He says it with such conviction that Nova herself can’t help but feel like it’s possible.

It could happen.

They are making it happen.

“You really believe in me?” Her voice trembles and shakes, her vulnerability laid bare for him to view, even though he isn’t looking at her.

She’s never felt like this before. So nervous yet so sure. Riddled with butterflies and moths. The feeling is so warm. Soothing. Stable. Loving.

Ward is her person.

“I do.”

Her sun.

“I think I love you.”

———

(Couldn’t come up with a better title. I’m tired 🙃. Hope you had a good day!)