The profound relief of the cure washed over her, followed by the quiet acknowledgement of her new reality: she was not a solitary star, but part of a constellation. The phantom warmth of her friends’ connections lingered, more real than the dock beneath her. For the first time, she felt whole.
“You have solved it, then,” a voice said.
It was no longer a dragon’s rumble, but a familiar, gentle echo inside her own mind. The gold and white dragon shimmered, its form beginning to lose its sharp edges, the color deepening to a tranquil, midnight blue like the star-strewn sky above.
“You understand the power of your connections. You understand why you were chosen,” the voice continued. “There is only one piece of the paradox left.”
“What’s that?” She asked, though she felt that she already knew the answer.
“Me,” the voice echoed. “Who have I been, in all this? What was my purpose?”
That was the final question. The one she hadn’t dared to ask. And as she truly considered it, the pieces of her own, personal paradox began to fall into place.
“This whole time I just accepted that you were Draconus,” Poppy said, a tired laugh in her voice. “It’s not like I had anything else to go on.” She took a step back, the full weight of the absurdity hitting her. “But that’s insane. He’s fighting a war; he doesn’t have time to be my spiritual guide, to hold my hand through the hard things. He just doesn’t do that.”
The realization settled in as she spoke the words aloud. “The way you speak mirrors my own thoughts, my own fears. The mannerisms.” She shook her head, a twisted smile on her lips as she finally looked the creature in the eye. “It’s like I’m forcing myself to see all this. I am forcing myself to see all this, aren’t I?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as the final truth dawned. “You’re me, aren’t you?”
There was no clap of thunder, no flash of light. Just a quiet shift and then where the dragon had been, another Poppy now stood.
Not a reflection of the girl she was now, but the one she had left behind. She was less worn down, her movements more animated. Her eyes were gentle and kind, a stark contrast to the hardened facade she had worn for years.
It was the girl who had believed in fairy tales, who had wanted to save everyone. The girl who had not yet been burdened by the weight of her family’s schemes and the Entity’s infection.
It was the part of her she had lost. A part she hadn’t realized was missing until this very moment.
Tears pricked at Poppy’s eyes. “I lost you,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. I tried to do everything on my own, and I pushed you away.”
The younger Poppy stepped forward, her hand reaching out. “It’s okay,” her voice echoed, impossibly gentle. “I’m right here. I never left. You just forgot how to find me.”
“I almost forgot what you looked like,” Poppy said, a soft, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I’m sorry I let myself get so lost. I’m sorry for all of it.”
The other Poppy just held her gaze, her arms reaching out to embrace her. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Poppy stepped forward and pulled herself in, tears rolling down her cheeks as her arms wrapped around her other self. For a second, she was holding a solid form; then she felt a surge of energy as the other Poppy dissolved into her, a wave of magic and light.
A sense of wholeness and a deep, complete peace settled in her heart as she collapsed to the ground, sobbing, letting the waves of emotion wash over her. Years of anger, hopelessness, and resentment bubbled to the surface, being released in a torrent of tears that she had been holding back since she could remember.
She wasn’t sure if it was minutes, or hours, or even years, but eventually, a calm settled in. As she replayed the memories she had just examined—the bonds she had forged, the home she had built, the knowledge she had earned—she started to understand.
She wasn’t important. There was nothing special about her. She wasn’t going to save the world, or make a grand impact that would change the course of history. Her existence wasn’t tied to some grand destiny or cosmic purpose.
Her relationships, her love for adventure, Steamy Ink- everything that made her who she was- those were all the reasons she had built for herself to keep living.
And they were enough.
⊰
The catharsis left her lying on the dock at the crossroads of her own mind, staring up at the star-strewn sky. Time was irrelevant, a concept she had allowed herself to abandon as she reflected on her feelings and experiences. She had always made her own choices, asserted her independence, and forged her own path. Even with a ticking clock on her existence, she had continued to find her way.
Poppy stood.
To her left was the glassy surface of the lake, the stars reflecting in its depths. She knew, somehow, that if she plunged in, she would meet the Stranger beneath it. No more pain, no more guilt over the friends she’d hurt, no more fighting her addictions or the coming siege. Her story would close. Her spark would be recycled. Peace.
There would be no coming back.
To her right was the road leading up the hill back to town. The edge of Maplewood was barely visible, but she could smell the familiar scent of woodsmoke drifting towards her. A smile broke out on her face as she remembered complaining to Enzo and Eoin that this was her least favorite trail in town; it seemed like a lifetime ago. As she looked at it now, she was overcome with the feeling that if she just made one more climb, she would find her friends waiting for her.
She just had to make a choice.
Without thinking, she found her feet carrying her towards the lake and she stood at the edge of the dock, looking into the depths. She knew instinctively that it wouldn’t hurt; she had earned this peace by doing more in an entire lifetime than most would ever do. The thought of it was a relief. She had been fighting for so long—against her family, the Entity, her own heart.
But this was her story. Every ugly scar, every stupid mistake, every moment of genuine connection—they were all chapters she had written herself. She hadn’t just survived; she had lived. And she wasn’t ready for her story to be over.
Poppy stayed for a long moment, drinking in the quiet of the water, a stillness she knew she wouldn’t feel again for a long time.
Then she turned and began to walk up the hill.