(Originally written in 2016 as my Secret Santa entry for The Silver Eye. My prompt was: Small Enel and Avidan having a snowball fight.)

The boys shout war and pummel each other with snowballs, each glowing under the starlight. I watch, apart. Savannah will have my head if Enel catches cold from this, and some of Avidan's caretakers will frown when they think I'm not looking. But the boys playing is good for them - and, maybe, even for me.

I don't join in, though. The strange ache across my scars seeps into the pit of my chest while their laughter scatters across the endless salt flats. The sound has no boundaries, no walls - just emptiness to swallow it. My throat burns from the cold.

Enel topples, red hair dusted white. I run a hand through my own, once red-tinted but now pale as cloud. Months have passed, but I still can't quite get used to it.

Avidan adjusts his sled as a shield and advances. Enel scrambles for cover where there is none - nothing but flat, flat, flat, until the curving galaxies above us meet the horizon.

He's my son, I keep thinking, my whole body tightening with that ache. He's my son.

I don't know what to do about that - about any of it. So many mistakes stem from Thoth's betrayal, from the decisions that split my family. Easier to move forward, forget life as Bhatair. No chance of redemption in the past, so that is where it will have to stay.

Avidan's basically buried Enel in snow, and he's too busy laughing to be bothered. I shake myself out of my thoughts, trying to find the present like a navigator seeking north.

"Here, that's enough," I say, stepping over and helping Enel up. "You've won the battle, Avidan."

"But not the war!" Enel chirps.

I can't help smiling, it's such an odd thing for Enel to say. He must have heard it from Marcus's books.

Using the underside of my cloak, I brush the snow out of Enel's hair while he licks it off his face and hands. How could I not have known? murmurs a quiet broken part of me. But that past life is over. Enel looks up up, eyes full of joy, and my spirit lifts.

Somehow we have found each other on the far side of the world, beyond the reach of shame and lies and hurt from that distant time, distant home. Here, there doesn't need to be pain in the truth: He ismy son.

I pass Avidan a handkerchief to dry himself, then lift Enel to carry. While I walk, meandering across the frozen ground and endless sky, they argue about who cheated and who really won. I pretend to listen and nod absently when required, but my heart has warmed and the cool air is crisp in my lungs.

For the first time since the coma, my head clears. I am awake.

"Hey! A shooting star!" Avidan cries, pointing.

We stop, watching until it fades and blends and vanishes. Even then, we stand in sudden stillness, the boys and me. Enel leans his head on my shoulder and I shift my arms, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the child. He's far too big for his age, and he has been since birth. Avidan, beside me, tilts his head all the way back to look for more falling stars.

My soul is full of the sky and the salt flats and the silence, and me, with my son, in a second chance at life, in a place I haven't yet failed. No past to tarnish this, no pain to linger. Right now, the future is all that matters. And the future is as open as the pathway of light above us.

Enel motions over my shoulder at Avidan, then he catches something out of the air. Before I can look, a soppy, cold snowball is smashed onto my head. Exclaiming, I let Enel down. He scrambles back to Avidan with a squeal and ducks behind the sled. Both boys pause, glancing up warily, unsure if this is allowed.

I laugh at their concerned expressions. Bending, I scoop up plenty of snow for ammunition. "You two don't know what you've just done!"

"To war!" Avidan cries, crouching beside Enel and passing him a ready snowball.

This time, I abandon worry about wounds and fears. I join them.