The Light, At Last SOLO

The postage box that rested on the grass in front of him seemed as though it had seen better days. Simon wondered if it was handled rough during transit, perhaps thrown or dropped. Maybe it got exposed to rain during it's journey here and the cardboard had warped from getting wet and drying.

But it made it to him - and that was the goal of any delivery; to make it to your recipient. Now Simon sat facing it and continued to stare at it, unsure what to do.

Normally it would be as simple as open it, as that is what one normally did when recieving a box through the mail but Simon knew this package would be heavy.

No, not that sort of heavy. Not in the sense of picking it up. He was a dhampir, afterall, and if it were heavy in physical weight he'd stand a better chance at conquering it than other students there on the grounds of Hogwarts but it was the emotional weight that he was concerned about.

The box had been labeled with only his name and his address, no sender information was present but he knew who had sent it. There was one large identifying detail that it was wrapped in purple ribbon. This was the very same color, the very same width, the very same ribbon that Vanessa Varon wore in her hair.

The box was from her.

Simon thought back to one of the last times he spoke with her, the last times he saw her, and how she had various things in her hands. She had told him to 'avoid the others at all cost.' She knew he was in danger and in the end it was she who got him out of the castle, she who told him to go ensure AngelFyre was safe - and she who perished in the fire.

Simon had sat motionless for a long time but then slowly leaned forward to burry his face in his hands. The box still sat in front of him, silent and heavy. The purple ribbon seemed to call to him. Simon still hadn't attempted to open it because opening it meant letting in something he wasn't ready to feel.

But he needed to know what was in it.

Simon moved closer to the box as it rested under the tree and his hands hovered above the purple ribbon for a moment. He could feel his fingers trembling. He finally pulled the ribbon loose and it instantly came undone, allowing him to open the flaps slowly.

Inside he found a letter and a few items that seemed to be wrapped in linen. He picked up the letter first and the handwriting immediately caused a pain in his and undid the wax sealing slowly, preparing himself for whatever was to come.

My Dearest Simon,

By the time this reaches you, I hope you are safe - far far away from this cursed castle and your father.

There are things you never knew, things I chose not to say because your heart already belonged elsewhere. I never needed your love, I only needed your happiness. And it is your friendship that saved me from losing the last of who I used to be.

I remember who I used to be. I remember the sunshine, Simon - the way it warmed my skin before I became this creature. I remember the flowers and I try so hard not to forget them. It is why I've painted so many.

Adrian never loved you, he wanted to control you. He wanted to control us all. But with you, it was more. You are something he could never be and he envied that. He sought to destroy you and I couldn't let that happen.

When you flee, when you're safe, I will burn this place down. I will destroy not only the castle itself but also what it stands for. This place isn't a sanctuary, it's a lie dressed in ceremony and blood. Every ritual, every sacrifice, every act of obedience was just another act of damnation.

Let it burn. Let it all burn.

The fire will consume us all - Adrian, the others, and myself. But when the flames consume this prison, I will step out into the sun one last time. I will feel the warmth again and be free.

Thi si sthe only way I could choose freedom - for you, for AngelFyre, for myself, and for the girl I used to be. I need to feel the sunshine again. I need to feel something real before the end.

Do not mourn me, Simon. I am not dying - I am being released.

I don't know if there's a heaven. I don't know if God hears the prayers of monsters or the pleas of those who became one by no choice of their own; but I do know this - You are not your father's son, Simon. You are something entirely your own. You may have his blood but you don't have his heart.

Thank you for every moment of kindness. Thank you for being my friend. You gave me back something I thought was lost; my self, my soul. You reminded me that I was more than a shadow. I never expected to find a friend in a place like this, especially not in someone like you. You were the only voice in these castle walls that didn't speak of cruelty. You saw me when I had almost forgotten how to be seen.

Take that bright light with you and don't let this place dim it. Do what you can to be untouched by our shadows. Keep walking into that world of yours with your heart open.

With love that asks nothing in return,
Vanessa

Simon read the letter once, twice, three times, before his eyes felt heavy and he just sat, his eyes fixated on the parchment in front of him but no longer reading the words, just letting them sink in. A bird fluttered nearby, breaking his trance and Simon almost forgot there were more items in the box.

He reached for the thinnest item and worked back the linen wrapping to reveal a thin candle which was purple, smooth, and untouched. A little note attached read: Light it for me, Let it burn somewhere I never could.

Simon set it down. He peered into the box, half hoping maybe this was the only item or at least there was only a couple more but there were several. The other half of him was hoping that these momentos would continue on forever and maybe he needn't say goodbye to his friend.

Simon slowly removed another wrapped item from the package and this time it a small fancy metal handheld mirror but the mirror was painted over in gold leaf. The note attached to the handle said: You can't see yourself, but it's beautiful. We are more than our reflections.

And the last.... Somehow he knew the last item even before he unwrapped it. Simon removed it from the package and slowly undid the fabric aroudn it to see a potrarit of himself - the very same one he had caught glimpse of one night in the castle.

He looked at the attached note which read: Simon, I painted you hundreds of times and hundreds of times, I failed. Not because you weren't perfect, but because perfectiion isn't still - it moves, it laughs, it remembers tiny things about people, it made others feel seen. You were never still, never easy to catch, never just one version of yourself. I chased your kindness with every brushstroke. I tried to hold your light with color that never stayed where I wanted it. I tried to make the world see you the way I did. This is the closest I ever came. This is proof that even in the darkest place, someone saw you - and wanted to make something beautiful because of it.



Simon stared down at the portrait of himself in Victorian era clothing and took in what little changes he saw from the last time he had seen the portrait.

Above him the clouds rolled on in their journey across the sky. He hadn't noticed the clouds that day, he hadn't noticed much really. But the wind shifted and the clouds parted. Golden rays bathed the grass and reached him through the leaves of the trees and the sun touched his face. In that moment, in that warmth, he felt her.

Simon closed his eyes and breathed in the sun, the silence, the memories of her, and of the sacrifices she had made.

"Thank you, Vanessa, and goodbye. Be warm, whever you are."

He stayed there until the clouds moved again and when the warmth faded, he gathered up the items back into the package she sent and stood. The day wasn't over, there were still hours of light left and Simon walked back into them, carrying what remained.