Faerie stood in front of the mirror, her hands smoothing down the soft fabric of her dress. Today was different. There was a genuine glint in her eyes, one that had been missing for far too long. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, trying to tame her nervous excitement. Her heart thudded with anticipation, her pulse quickening with every thought of the day ahead.
She slipped on her shoes, taking a moment to breathe deeply. This wasn't the usual mask she wore—today, there was no need for the cold smirk, no sharp edges to hide behind. Today, she was Dorothy again, the girl who just wanted to see her father's face, even through the glass and metal bars. She glanced at the small photograph of her parents that she kept hidden in her dresser drawer, brushing a thumb over it before tucking it back in place. A whispered promise slipped past her lips, "I'm coming, Dad."
The prison center loomed ahead like a concrete fortress, a reminder of how much her life had changed. Faerie had visited before, but never like this. Her steps felt lighter, more determined. She clutched a paper bag of things she knew her father would appreciate, small comforts to remind him that he wasn't forgotten. She passed through the heavy metal doors, the harsh sound of them clanging shut behind her resonating through the cold hallways.
She kept her head high as she walked through the narrow corridors lined with cells. Whispers echoed around her, from men trapped behind bars, their eyes following her every move. Some were curious, others leering, but she paid them no mind. She was focused on one thing only: reaching her father's cell. The guards recognized her—she was a rare, but memorable visitor—and allowed her to pass without much hassle.
Her heart sped up when she finally reached the cell, her eyes meeting a familiar face on the other side of the bars. Her father, once a strong man who seemed larger than life, now appeared gaunt and weary. But the moment his gaze landed on her, a light flickered in his eyes, one that made Faerie's throat tighten.
"Dad," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, "you don't realize how much I've missed you." Tears threatened to spill over as she pressed a hand to the cold steel bars, wishing for just a moment she could reach out and touch his hand.
Her father stepped closer, his calloused hands gripping the bars as he studied her face. "Dorothy... my little Dorothy. Look at you." His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. It had been months since they last spoke face-to-face like this, and she could see the toll it had taken on him. He scanned her, as if checking to make sure she was real and not a figment of a memory. "You look... older. Stronger."
A faint, sad smile tugged at her lips. "Life has a way of doing that, doesn't it?" she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. "But I'm not here to talk about that, Dad. I came to tell you... I haven't forgotten my promise."
Her father's face softened, but his brows furrowed. "Dorothy, I told you to forget about it. This isn't your burden to carry. You're supposed to live your life—"
"No," Faerie cut in, shaking her head firmly. "I can't just live my life knowing that you're stuck here for something you didn't do. I can't just walk away like this never happened. I will clear your name, Dad, no matter what it takes."
Her father sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of her words pressed down on him. "You're too stubborn for your own good," he murmured, a ghost of a chuckle slipping past his lips. "Just like your mother. Always taking on the world, even when it tries to break you down."
Faerie forced a smile, her hands tightening around the bars. "Maybe, but it's that stubbornness that's kept me going. It's what brought me to Hera, to all those people who think I'm nothing. They think I'm just some charity case with no purpose, but I'm playing a longer game. I've learned their secrets, I've gotten close to the people who matter. And when the time comes, I'm going to use every single one of them to bring you back."
Her father looked at her, a mix of pride and sorrow in his eyes. "I know you're smart, Dorothy, but these people... they play dirty. I don't want to see you get hurt because of me."
"I don't care," she replied fiercely, her voice rising with each word. "I'd go through hell and back to get you out of here. You sacrificed so much for us. This is the least I can do. You deserve to be free, to live your life, not rot away in this place because of lies."
For a moment, they both fell silent, the air thick with unsaid words. Faerie could feel the eyes of the guards on her, urging her to wrap things up. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "I've already made some progress, Dad. There are cracks in their stories. I just need a little more time, and I swear, I'll have everything I need to turn this around."
Her father's hands trembled as they clutched the bars tighter. "I don't want you to ruin yourself for me, Dorothy. I'd rather stay here than see you lose yourself in revenge."
"But it's not just revenge," she said, her voice softening as she met his gaze. "It's about giving us a chance at a life we were supposed to have. A chance to be a family again. I need you to believe in me, Dad. Even if you think I'm making a mistake, I need you to trust that I can do this."
Her father's eyes shone with unshed tears, and he nodded slowly. "I've always believed in you, Dorothy. From the moment you were born. You've always been strong. But promise me one thing—if this starts to go wrong, if you ever feel like you're in too deep... walk away. Don't sacrifice yourself for this."
Faerie bit her lip, holding back her own tears. "I promise I'll be careful, Dad. But I won't walk away. Not until you're free." She reached up, pressing a hand against the glass that separated them, wishing she could break through it.
Her father mirrored the gesture, his palm aligning with hers on the other side of the barrier. It was as close as they could get to holding hands, and for a moment, it was enough. "I love you, kid. Don't forget that."
"I won't. And I love you too. I'll be back soon, Dad. Just hold on a little longer." With a final, lingering glance, she took a step back, the guards signaling that her time was up. She forced herself to turn away, the steel door clanging shut behind her.
As she walked out of the prison, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement, Faerie wiped away a stray tear and squared her shoulders. The fire in her heart burned brighter than ever. She had a plan, a purpose, and a promise to keep. And nothing—not Felix, Aaron, or the ghosts of the past—would stand in her way.