#libby 14

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Lily, after everything that’s happened. The aging and reversals, staying with Flora as she switched between three and thirteen and thirty, the island turning around and inward and outward again. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise to see that the Labyrinth has given her another gift, sent out her mother as it had sent out the Flood, but it is. To see Libby approaching the High House that morning, her shorn hair once again long and her mouth in that familiar, beloved line—Lily’s knees almost give out.

“Mom,” she whispers, hardly able to give the word voice. A word she hasn’t spoken in months. Her heart leaps in her throat, but dread keeps her lingering by the curtain that serves as the entrance to her room. She and Tomas had made a lot of progress; it’s almost entirely closed off, now. Her gaze darts down toward Libby’s leg, her chest tightening at the sight of the scar that mars that skin.

The whispers are gone, but even so, Lily has the thought: it’s over. 

She doesn’t care. Libby’s back. Even if she hates her, she’s alive. That’s what matters.

“Mom?” she says again, louder, and she steps out to stand by the piano even as her heartbeat thunders in her ears.