Remy was not quite sure what to do upon her arrival home. So much had happened in Astracia that she had never thought about what she would do when she finally saw her family again. Sometimes, she had even forgotten they existed altogether, and then she would feel guilty and worry at the thought of them searching for her at home, never able to know the truth of where she had gone.

She had walked home in a daze, feeling hollow after her departure with Maksim. She had tried with all her might to ignore the grey houses and crumbling bricks, already longing to return to the pink sky and orange sunlight she had been forced to leave behind. There was no sunlight in Calderdale, just colourless clouds that seemed to drain all the life from the world, and from Remy.

She had forgotten, too, to look before crossing roads. Traffic hadn't existed in the warlock realm, and in just a matter of days she had grown used to walking around the cobbled roads without a care. Now, she found herself doing the same, only the passing cars would beep each time she walked out in front of them. They did not make her want to speed up. She barely noticed them at all, too busy concentrating on ways to control her breathing and lift the heaviness from her chest; too busy trying not to think of him and how he had told her everything she had ever wanted to hear right before ripping it away before she could truly enjoy it.

She did not have to think about which turns to take or back alleys to cut through. The journey was an automatic one, as though her feet would always remember their way even if she did not. Perhaps, she thought unwillingly, Calderdale was always going to be where she belonged—a terrifying idea that caused a shiver to flutter through her. Because of this, it took not nearly long enough to find the block of old apartment buildings where she lived, and before she knew it, she was climbing the stairs and staring at the familiar house number engraved into faded white wood, knowing the sight of it meant the part of her life where magic existed was truly closing. 23B. There was a time when the combination of numbers and letters had brought her comfort, but now she did not think there was anything in this world that could—that was, until the door opened and she saw her mother on the other side of it.

Bianca looked older now, just as she had in the image that Maksim had shown her one night when she was feeling particularly homesick. She gulped at the thought of Maksim, trying to wipe him from her memory and focus on what was happening in front of her. Her mother was clutching her handbag, dressed in her work uniform with wisps of her ashy hair already falling out of its ponytail. She had paled, her grey eyes wide and her mouth ajar as though the life had been taken from her altogether. There were lines on her face that Remy was sure had not been there before.

"Mum," Remy whispered in a half-sob, and then she was in her mother's arms, being held more tightly than she had ever remembered being before. She inhaled, the smell of detergent mixed with perfume stinging her nose. It reminded her of being a child again, for that must have been the last time she had been embraced like this. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Her mother was the first to pull away, and she clutched Remy's face in her hands, her darting eyes filled with tears as she looked her daughter up and down. "It's really you. You're really here."

"I'm here." Remy tried to smile but couldn't. Just as she was about to apologise again, she was interrupted by someone else saying her name.

"Rem?"

Remy recognised the voice immediately. It had come from behind her mother's frame. She peered around Bianca and was met with Mia, her younger sister, standing timidly by the couch, with the television blaring some meaningless reality show in the background, just as it always had before. Nothing had changed, she realised. Not for them.

"Is that really you?"

Remy nodded and was immediately enveloped in another hug from her sister. Her youngest brother, Vincent, was next, clinging onto her lower half from behind, though she had not seen him standing in the living room before. She stepped away, picking the boy up and searching for the only member of her family who was missing: Leo, her eldest brother. It did not take long to find him.

He was emerging from the corridor, a cereal bowl in hand and his hair tousled. He had grown, Remy noticed immediately, having evolved into a lanky adolescent seemingly overnight, though he must have already been one before she had left. He was frowning, and then upon noticing his sister, the bowl dropped and shattered to the floor and he ran to her. His hug was all bones, but Remy didn't mind. She had missed him, more than she had perhaps realised. She had missed all of them.

"Oh my god," he breathed in a tone she had never heard him with before; but then, she had never disappeared before, either.

"You're really back, Rem?" Vincent asked in a small voice that held all the bewilderment of an eight-year-old.

"I'm really back," she reassured him as Leo's arms dropped to the side and he blushed as though he was embarrassed—it was the first time in years that Leo had hugged anyone but his little brother.

Tears rolled down Bianca's face as she gripped Remy's hand. "But where were you, darling? Did someone hurt you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mum," she lied. She was not in the best shape after a few run-ins with Ackmard and a cave wall—and then, of course, Nil Lake—nor did she feel her best knowing that Maksim had left her, wanting nothing to do with her ever again. And then there was Sarah, her best friend, who she had abandoned in a cave without much thought. "I—I just ... I had to get away, that's all. It's complicated."

Hurt and anger flashed in her mother's eyes at that, and Leo's too. "You had to get away?" he repeated, his brown eyes darkening. He and Mia were the only ones who had not inherited Bianca's grey irises, instead having darker features that set them apart from the rest of the family. "You were gone for months. We thought you were dead!"

"Leo," Bianca scolded.

"No, Mum. After everything she's put us through, you're just going to let her walk back in here and pretend it's okay?" Leo looked at Remy then, his lip curling in hatred. "If you had to get away so much, you should have stayed gone."

"Leo, please," Remy pleaded, watching as his figure retreated into the corridor. She jumped when the door slammed behind him, the bang echoing through the half-empty apartment. Placing an unwilling Vincent down and lowering her eyes, she said, "I'm sorry. I really am. I never planned it, and I never wanted to put you through any of this. I wish ... I wish I could explain it."

Bianca eyed Remy, her expression softening with more tears. Remy wished she would stop crying, and she wished her whole family would stop looking at her as though she was a stranger who had wandered into her home. She already felt like one as it was.

"None of it matters now," her mother said finally, pulling Remy in for another hug. "What matters is that you're home, and you're safe. The rest can wait."

"I missed you." She had to choke out the words, but there they were. She just wished that she felt a little better about being home. After so long of feeling homesick, she had expected to be happy and relieved, but instead she felt just as she had in that alleyway where Maksim had left her: hollow. Different. Heartbroken. "I missed you so much."

"Why did you leave us, Rem?" asked Vincent innocently.

She sighed, kneeling so that she had to look up at him to meet his eyes. She tried her best not to wince in pain as she did, her numbness ebbing so that she was growing more aware of the agony she was still in from her injuries. Maksim had not had the energy to use a healing spell, and Remy had not blamed him. Now, she wished she could be rid of the pain, not just because it hurt, but because it was another reminder that she had changed when her family had not.

Bianca seemed too emotional to notice her daughter's turmoil, but Mia was scrutinising Remy's every move with a raised eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter now, okay, Vinnie? I'm here, and I promise I won't leave again. I'm so sorry."

"You must be hungry." Bianca placed her bag down with a newfound urgency and wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeve. "I'll make you something. Or order something. What would you like?"

"Actually, I'm a little overwhelmed. If it's alright with you, I think I'll just get an early night."

She knew she was being unreasonable. She knew she should have been trying harder, but she simply couldn't, not even when she watched her mother's face fall in disappointment. Her bones were aching, her whole body—and soul—finally feeling the impact of everything that had happened.

"Of course," her mother nodded her head, pulling Vincent to one side. "We'll talk tomorrow. Just, please, promise me you'll still be here in the morning. Please stay."

Bianca squeezed Remy's arm as though checking she was a real, tangible thing, and Remy bit her lip to stop her tears. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise, Mum."

She forced a smile then, even though it hurt her cheeks, and ran off before she could be questioned further, dodging Leo's spilled cereal on the way. She opened the door to her bedroom with so much force that it almost swung off its hinges, and only then would she let herself collapse onto the floor in a heap of tears, pain, and exhaustion. She clawed at her collarbone, searching desperately for her one source of comfort, the key, before remembering that it had been taken from her along with everything else. She could barely catch her breath when her name was called from the other side of the door.

"Remy?" It was Mia. "Can I come in?"

Remy closed her eyes for a moment before standing up and wiping her cheeks free of tears, her chest rising and falling heavily. "Yes."

The door creaked as Mia opened it and immediately went to sit on Remy's bed, which, she noticed, was freshly made with a new set of sheets on. The sight only made her feel guiltier, and she thought about her mother making her daughter's bed, not knowing if she would ever lie in it again.

"So, what really happened?" her sister questioned in a nonchalant tone, flicking her dark hair behind her shoulder as though the conversation was the most natural thing in the world.

"I told you. I had to go away."

"Without packing a bag or telling someone? Yeah, right," she scoffed. "You can fool Mum, but not me. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Mia," she responded reluctantly, sitting herself down next to her sister. Her fingers fumbled nervously with her shirt, and she realised that it was one that had once belonged to Maksim. He had given it to her when she had had no change of clothes but her old jeans and shoes this morning. A sudden desire to rip it off and throw it in the bin coursed through her and she tensed. "I really don't want to talk about this tonight."

"You used to tell me everything," she mumbled.

Remy's heart sank. "I can't tell you this. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter." She stood up with force, and Remy wondered if she had grown taller or if Remy simply felt smaller now because of all the guilt she felt. "You'll have to tell the police. They searched for you for weeks. Mum has already rang them to let them know you're back, you know."

Dread erupted in the pit of Remy's stomach, but she said nothing, her gaze falling on the grey clouds behind the window pane instead. In her disconnected haze, she realised that it had started to rain and found herself longing to go out in it, to feel the cold droplets on her bare skin—perhaps then something might have felt realer to her than it did now.

"You've changed," Mia said, her reflection dancing on the glass in front of Remy. "It's like you're not even here. All I wanted was my sister back, but she's gone, hasn't she?"

"I'm ..." Remy inhaled shakily, "I'm dealing with stuff, alright?  I'm sorry. I'm trying, Mia."

"Try harder."

The door slammed, and Remy turned around to an empty room. It was all she could do to stare at it, at her old dressing table where all her makeup lay untouched and her bookshelf where she stored anything she had ever read. It seemed as though she had never been away, yet it didn't feel like hers at all anymore. These were things that Remy cared about before she knew of magic and Maksim, and of what it meant to truly be alive. They meant nothing to her now. They were just ... things.

She stared at them for hours, until the sky had darkened and all she could see was their silhouettes. She prayed for a feeling other than the aching in her chest—a sense of belonging, perhaps, or love for these things that told her she was home—but nothing would come. Mia had been right; she had changed, so drastically that she no longer knew what purpose she had here—or anywhere at all. She couldn't help but bury her face in Maksim's shirt, searching for his scent, some proof of his existence, but there was nothing there, either.

She was glad when she finally fell asleep curled up on her bedroom floor.