"Lily!" Persephone called out, her voice ringing through the air. I froze, watching in disbelief as she ran toward the waterfall, intent on diving straight into it.
With childlike abandon, she plunged through the rushing water, laughing with pure joy as though it were all a playful game. My heart skipped a beat. "Pers!" I shouted, panic rising in my chest as I feared for her safety.
"Come on, Lily! Join me! And you too, Hades!" she called, splashing water at us, soaking our clothes and skin.
Hades shook his head with a grin. "Typical Persephone. Always so childlike."
I stared down at the cliff's edge, the sight of the swirling waters below sending a wave of fear through me. I longed to jump, to follow her, but the fear held me back.
Hades sighed, sensing my hesitation. "You know what, Ly? Let's head to the Mansseur. We can finish what we started, weave the threads we left unfinished."
I glanced back at Persephone and let out a quiet sigh. Deep down, I wished to join her in the water, but the thought of heights made my stomach churn. Hades, ever the authoritative figure, called out to Persephone. She shivered under his stern gaze, and I couldn't help but stifle a giggle. She looked like a child being reprimanded by her father—though, in truth, it was more amusing than intimidating.
Hades and Persephone weren't just my companions; they were my childhood friends. We shared the same age, the same upbringing, and the same immortal bloodline as Habiáns. Despite being almost 99 years old, my reflection remained frozen in time, mirroring the face of an eighteen-year-old. Such was our nature—ageless after reaching twenty, preserved like untouched sculptures in an eternal gallery.
****
"Mom!" Persephone's excited voice broke my thoughts as she dashed toward her mother, wrapping her arms around her. Hades followed suit, his stiff demeanor softening as he greeted his mother warmly. I smiled, watching the scene unfold, then turned to greet them all with a polite nod. My steps carried me toward the elder, who stood gracefully between Auntie Tiara, Hades' mother, and Auntie Lorna, Persephone's.
"Good day, Elder," I said, bowing my head with reverence, my hands crossing over my chest in a gesture of respect.
The elder's gaze held warmth as she said, "Lily, come with me. I have something for you."
I blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. "Yes, Elder."
After bidding farewell to Persephone and Hades, I followed the elder silently, my mind stirring with curiosity. I had a feeling we were heading toward the Mansseur, the heart of our clan's history. What could she possibly be giving me?
***
The Mansseur was as magnificent as always, a place that seemed to transcend the flow of time. Its marble columns stretched toward the heavens, shimmering under the glow of moonlight. Intricate tapestries adorned the ceilings, their woven threads catching the light in a way that made them sparkle like stars. The air inside was heavy with ancient tales, whispering softly as if carried on an unseen breeze. Each step I took echoed across the polished marble floors, my reflection shimmering beneath me like a fleeting memory.
I hummed quietly to myself, my voice almost lost in the grandeur of the space. The elder eventually stopped before a smaller door and gestured for me to step inside.
"Here, Lily. Take a seat," she said kindly, her voice laced with significance.
From her hands, she presented a needle—beautiful, ornate, and steeped in history. My breath hitched.
"This was my needle," she said gently. "You can use it to make habí."
"Truly, Elder? You're entrusting this to me?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.
She nodded. "Yes, child. I am far too old to weave anymore, and you are coming of age now. It is your time."
I stared at her, taking in her youthful appearance despite her nearly 999 years of life. The weight of her years seemed to hover around her like a faint glow, yet her face remained unlined, timeless. Soon, I knew, she would return to El Dios—the deity who gave us life and bound us as Habiáns.
"I will cherish this needle, Elder," I vowed, clutching her hand tightly. "And I will weave habís that tell stories worthy of our lineage."
Her smile was serene. "I know you will, Lily. Every habí you create breathes life into our tales."
A thoughtful silence stretched between us until a question I'd been holding back finally slipped from my lips.
"Elder, do you think there will ever come a time when we can find harmony with humans again?"
Her gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes distant, as though recalling memories too painful to speak aloud. "No, Lily," she replied quietly. "The bond we once shared with humans is lost. They are but fleeting visitors in our eternal world. One habí in a thousand, insignificant in the grand tapestry of our lives."
"But what if—just what if—we could mend the past?" I pressed, the hope in my voice trembling.
The elder's eyes met mine, solemn and unwavering. "Lily, listen to me. No matter what happens, never let humans stain your habí. Their stories do not belong in our weave. We must not intertwine their fleeting threads with our eternal fabric."