Fenae (part 28): Unconditional Love.

Franek regained consciousness with a feeling that was becoming more and more familiar to him: flat on the cold stone of Rejtély’s floor. This time, though, nothing hurt. His head was not spinning, his elbows were not scraped, and someone had even tucked a pillow under him. The embracelace lay wrapped around him as well.

Next to him was his father, Mathias, slowly rising from the floor as well. The only other person in the room was his mother, Aynala, sitting cross-legged with Beletos on her lap. She had its strings in her hands and played with it much like someone would wiggle a baby’s hands to make it “dance.”

“Good morning, sweethearts,” Aynala said without looking up. “Was your reunion so emotional that you had to hide it from me?”

Mathias rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, no, nothing that dramatic. We were just… equally startled.”

Aynala finally glanced up, smiling as if this alone was a small miracle.

“You got him surprised? When Fran saw me, he just stared in startled disbelief.”

Mathias snorted. “I’m sure he was simply awestruck to see you again, isn’t that right?”

He winked at Franek. “Or maybe he has learned why you and Beletos got yourselves banned forever from the library during your school days.”

Aynala’s cheeks reddened. Franek let out a shaky chuckle — more to match the mood than because anything felt funny — but the laughter did not settle his nerves. Only one thing seemed clear: his father, at least, was probably real. Malal would never share that It was secretly watching him. Or… would It? Maybe to gain my trust? Straddling the edges of the yawning rabbit hole widening in his mind, he simply could not commit himself to fully trusting these two, however hard he tried.

“You’re wondering if we’re real, aren’t you?” Mathias said, catching his eye.

Franek flinched, but Mathias laughed heartily. “I can read it off your face, Fran. I’ve watched you learn every expression it has and hides; I can see when you’re holding something back. Besides, I’ve been where your mind probably is right now.”

He shifted so that they were eye to eye.

“And that’s good. Stay wondering. But let me show you a way to know for sure.”

He moved over to Franek and laid a hand on his shoulder. And then everything lost its color again. Not gradually, like Franek was used to, but in the blink of an eye.

He looked up and saw Mathias’s face shift and contort again. Muffled words barely managed to crawl their way out, as if dragging themselves through mud. It all came at once, compressed within a single breath.

“She can’t hear us right now. When we’re back in the normal flow of time, do something stupid. Not harmful, just… random gibberish or something. Then watch her eyes. Not what she says, not how she sits — her eyes. Then tell me what you see, okay?”

Franek tilted his head, the weight of those words clearly heavy but totally lost on him. Her eyes? he thought, begrudgingly preparing himself to fall again. Whatever it was, it seemed crucial for him to recognize.

But just as suddenly as everything went gray, so too did it spring back to life. Franek was somewhat breathless, sure, but otherwise fine. Looking up, he saw that Mathias was fine as well, subtly nudging toward Aynala.

Franek crouched slowly. Something stupid, he reminded himself, tugging at his shoelaces mostly to buy time. He shuffled out of his shoes, then rummaged through his pockets. He was not really looking for something; he was mostly searching for ideas. As things stood, he felt stupid already.

Not something silly…

His fingers wove through their familiar clutter: loose stitches, crumpled flower petals from last lecture, chalk, charcoal… and the purple bag with library dust. Nothing strange here…

He squeezed the bag in his palm as he waddled toward Aynala. Am I supposed to make her laugh?

She watched him with open interest, which made choosing even harder. He bent in a grand flourish the way he’d seen at the theatre — they always looked silly to him — but halfway through, he found it not so much strange as just stupid.

Then, a spark of clarity.

He spun around, hurried back to grab his shoes, and rushed to her again. With ceremonial seriousness, he placed one shoe carefully on top of his own head. Then, with equal care, he balanced the other shoe on the crown of Aynala’s.

Satisfied, he bowed deeply. And when the shoe on his head tapped gently against hers, he made the softest, most uncertain little “boop.”

Aynala blinked.

So did Franek.

He then looked Aynala straight in the eyes — something he hated, as his tendency to stare tended to make things awkward. He saw deep folds in her forehead, as though she was thinking. Her eyebrows were raised, hinting at concern; her mouth hovered somewhere between a smile and confusion. Her eyes, big and round like polished glass, alternated their focus between his eyes as if looking for something. Something she searched for with a hint of joy.

What she searched for, he did not know. He did not know what he was meant to see, either.

Mathias stepped up beside him, seemingly satisfied.

“See that, Fran?” Franek opened his mouth to say no, but Mathias continued. “That right there is unconditional love.”

Aynala nodded quickly in confirmation. Mathias went on: “Love has many faces. Coirym loves you the way we love puppies or a baby elephant. Van Epscharrem loves to see you develop yourself, and Malal loves what you might achieve one day. But that look of your mother?” He lightly poked Franek’s chest to emphasize his words. “She loves the fact that you simply exist. You are this living thing that she and I made and raised for years and years. That warmth — even when you do something useless, or strange, or nothing at all — it’s instinctive to us. Malal could never understand that. Couldn’t fake it, even if It knew of it. So when you do something stupid, and Aynala or I still look at you like that…” He smiled. “You’ll know it’s really us.”

Franek tried to understand what part of her expression proved this. He saw concern, attentiveness, confusion, amusement — but nothing that specifically screamed unconditional love.

He gathered breath to admit he did not quite see it.

Then the dormitory door burst open.

He spun around and saw Mechteld wrestling the janitor who was supposed to guard the door. A wisp of light trailed toward Franek before fizzing out inches from his face.

“Fran!” she gasped as she forced her way inside. “I’ve been looking everywhere — Professor Coirym just got smuggled into the school on a stretcher!”

Everyone jolted into motion.

The janitor received orders through his portophone to stop anyone from going to the janitor lounge, but he had been warned about Mrs. Vehrenvar. After one quick look at her, the scarred face of Mathias, the time-stopping student, and the deceptively strong girl he could barely restrain already, he sighed.

“Fine. Just go. And make it look like I tried.”

Franek shot past him, grabbing Mechteld’s arm as he ran. Behind them, his parents thanked the janitor and exchanged a quick look.

“So…” Mathias asked, raising an eyebrow, “seeing as I’ve never been here before, are you going to displace us?”

Aynala grinned.

“And miss the chance to finally show you all the art I’ve hidden here? Not likely.”

Before Mathias could protest, Aynala blew some library dust on him.

She grabbed his wrist and sprinted after the children, laughing as she went, with an enchanted Mathias fluttering loosely behind her like a weightless paper kite.

A candid photo of Aynala and Mathias Vehrenvar (right and left, respectively). A scribble on the back reads “A fearless witch and a startled Badger”. Photo taken by Callsign Kaffke, (year 36 of the 5th era)