- Local time
- Today 8:53 AM
- Messages
- 41
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The sky bled crimson when Kael set his sister's pyre alight.
Red embers danced upward like fireflies fleeing sorrow, their glow reflected in the boy's wide, tear-bright eyes. His hands shook as he stepped back, the scent of cedar and myrrh mixing with the metallic tang of grief. The village elders murmured prayers behind him, but Kael said nothing. Not out loud.
His promise was older than flame.
"I'll find where you've gone, Linna. I swear it."
The next morning, Kael walked beyond the village gates, armed only with a satchel of herbs, a chipped flute, and the orange-glass pendant Linna once wore. A gift from their mother. It caught the dawn's light in fractured splinters as he passed into the scrublands, where marmalade-colored dust devils spun and whispered secrets to the wind.
He followed the trail of rumors and half-lost songs, each pointing toward a place with no map named, where colors bled into each other like dreams before waking.
On the third day, he reached the yellow fields, sunflowers tall as sentinels swaying to a rhythm he couldn't hear. They bowed toward him as he passed, petals trembling, golden heads nodding as if in shared mourning.
Kael paused beside a lone scarecrow dressed in rags that shimmered like spun citrine. "Did you see her?" he whispered.
The scarecrow's hand twitched.
A petal drifted from above, catching on Kael's shoulder. It pulsed once with warmth, then vanished.
He quickened his pace.
By twilight, the fields gave way to green vines twisted into arches, leaves as big as shields, and mossy stones that hummed underfoot. Here, the air was heavier, filled with the scent of mint and secrets. Luminous frogs blinked at him from low branches. One hopped onto his boot.
"You seek the lost," it croaked. "You seek the bridge."
Kael crouched. "Do you know it?"
The frog's throat ballooned thoughtfully. "Only those who remember sorrow may cross. Do you still weep?"
Kael's jaw clenched. "Not yet. But I remember."
The frog blinked. "Then follow the ivy until it curls into silence."
At the border of green and blue, the world stilled.
A lake unfolded beneath the rising moon, still as glass. The water was so deep a hue of sapphire it seemed to drink the stars. In the center, a structure arched—seven curved planks, each a different shade, glowing faintly. The Rainbow Bridge. It shimmered with an old kind of magic. Not showy. True.
Kael stepped to the edge.
A ripple spread, and a figure rose from the water. Linna.
Or almost her.
Her features were blurred, eyes too bright, skin flickering with reflections.
"You came," she said, voice like bells under water.
"Is it you?"
She didn't answer. "Cross the bridge, Kael. I wait beyond."
The first plank—red—was warm beneath his feet, pulsing like a heartbeat.
With each step, he felt a memory rise: Linna's laughter in the orchard, the way she spun when she danced, the iron taste of blood when she fell.
He almost stopped.
But the second plank—orange—was firmer, humming with determination.
He remembered how she'd once dared him to leap from the cliffs into the river below, how her fear always came after her courage.
The third—yellow—lit up like sun through a child's drawing.
He saw her at five, sticky with honey, building forts of wildflowers and demanding dragons for tea.
He swallowed a sob.
The fourth—green—slowed him.
Here, the air thickened with longing. He remembered planting that bitterroot garden together after their father died, digging side by side until their fingers bled. She had wept into the soil. He hadn't known how to comfort her, then.
The bridge trembled beneath him, but he moved on.
The fifth—blue—was cold.
Lonely.
Here was the night she'd vanished. A chill had swept the village; she'd said she heard music in the wind and left barefoot, smiling, like she knew something no one else did.
He'd searched the hills, the cliffs, the water.
Now he stood in that color, full of everything he never said. "I was scared," he whispered. "I thought you'd come back."
The bridge did not answer.
The sixth—indigo—was deeper than sorrow.
A dream that blurred edges, where memory and magic twisted together. Shapes moved in the mist. A woman who wore Linna's face. A boy who screamed into the night. A shadow that grinned with too many teeth.
Kael staggered.
Then he heard a song—her song—low and steady.
He stepped forward.
The final plank—violet—glowed soft as breath.
At its center stood Linna—not a ghost, not a vision, but her.
Alive.
Whole.
"I'm not dead," she said softly. "I crossed before. I didn't know what I'd find."
Kael rushed forward, holding her tight, heart thunderous. "Why didn't you come back?"
She pulled away, eyes glistening. "Because I found the truth. And once you cross fully, you can't return unchanged.
He blinked. "What truth?"
Linna smiled, brushing hair from his eyes. "That grief is a gate, not an end. That love—real love—carries through every color."
Around them, the bridge shimmered. Below, the lake rippled with a heartbeat not its own.
Kael reached for her hand. "Then take me with you."
She did.
Some say the siblings vanished into myth. The rainbow bridge only appears to those who grieve truly.
But sometimes, on the edge of a sapphire lake, you might hear a flute and a girl's laugh.
And if you follow, petal by petal, memory by memory—
You might find them waiting.
Together.
In every color.
Red embers danced upward like fireflies fleeing sorrow, their glow reflected in the boy's wide, tear-bright eyes. His hands shook as he stepped back, the scent of cedar and myrrh mixing with the metallic tang of grief. The village elders murmured prayers behind him, but Kael said nothing. Not out loud.
His promise was older than flame.
"I'll find where you've gone, Linna. I swear it."
The next morning, Kael walked beyond the village gates, armed only with a satchel of herbs, a chipped flute, and the orange-glass pendant Linna once wore. A gift from their mother. It caught the dawn's light in fractured splinters as he passed into the scrublands, where marmalade-colored dust devils spun and whispered secrets to the wind.
He followed the trail of rumors and half-lost songs, each pointing toward a place with no map named, where colors bled into each other like dreams before waking.
On the third day, he reached the yellow fields, sunflowers tall as sentinels swaying to a rhythm he couldn't hear. They bowed toward him as he passed, petals trembling, golden heads nodding as if in shared mourning.
Kael paused beside a lone scarecrow dressed in rags that shimmered like spun citrine. "Did you see her?" he whispered.
The scarecrow's hand twitched.
A petal drifted from above, catching on Kael's shoulder. It pulsed once with warmth, then vanished.
He quickened his pace.
By twilight, the fields gave way to green vines twisted into arches, leaves as big as shields, and mossy stones that hummed underfoot. Here, the air was heavier, filled with the scent of mint and secrets. Luminous frogs blinked at him from low branches. One hopped onto his boot.
"You seek the lost," it croaked. "You seek the bridge."
Kael crouched. "Do you know it?"
The frog's throat ballooned thoughtfully. "Only those who remember sorrow may cross. Do you still weep?"
Kael's jaw clenched. "Not yet. But I remember."
The frog blinked. "Then follow the ivy until it curls into silence."
At the border of green and blue, the world stilled.
A lake unfolded beneath the rising moon, still as glass. The water was so deep a hue of sapphire it seemed to drink the stars. In the center, a structure arched—seven curved planks, each a different shade, glowing faintly. The Rainbow Bridge. It shimmered with an old kind of magic. Not showy. True.
Kael stepped to the edge.
A ripple spread, and a figure rose from the water. Linna.
Or almost her.
Her features were blurred, eyes too bright, skin flickering with reflections.
"You came," she said, voice like bells under water.
"Is it you?"
She didn't answer. "Cross the bridge, Kael. I wait beyond."
The first plank—red—was warm beneath his feet, pulsing like a heartbeat.
With each step, he felt a memory rise: Linna's laughter in the orchard, the way she spun when she danced, the iron taste of blood when she fell.
He almost stopped.
But the second plank—orange—was firmer, humming with determination.
He remembered how she'd once dared him to leap from the cliffs into the river below, how her fear always came after her courage.
The third—yellow—lit up like sun through a child's drawing.
He saw her at five, sticky with honey, building forts of wildflowers and demanding dragons for tea.
He swallowed a sob.
The fourth—green—slowed him.
Here, the air thickened with longing. He remembered planting that bitterroot garden together after their father died, digging side by side until their fingers bled. She had wept into the soil. He hadn't known how to comfort her, then.
The bridge trembled beneath him, but he moved on.
The fifth—blue—was cold.
Lonely.
Here was the night she'd vanished. A chill had swept the village; she'd said she heard music in the wind and left barefoot, smiling, like she knew something no one else did.
He'd searched the hills, the cliffs, the water.
Now he stood in that color, full of everything he never said. "I was scared," he whispered. "I thought you'd come back."
The bridge did not answer.
The sixth—indigo—was deeper than sorrow.
A dream that blurred edges, where memory and magic twisted together. Shapes moved in the mist. A woman who wore Linna's face. A boy who screamed into the night. A shadow that grinned with too many teeth.
Kael staggered.
Then he heard a song—her song—low and steady.
He stepped forward.
The final plank—violet—glowed soft as breath.
At its center stood Linna—not a ghost, not a vision, but her.
Alive.
Whole.
"I'm not dead," she said softly. "I crossed before. I didn't know what I'd find."
Kael rushed forward, holding her tight, heart thunderous. "Why didn't you come back?"
She pulled away, eyes glistening. "Because I found the truth. And once you cross fully, you can't return unchanged.
He blinked. "What truth?"
Linna smiled, brushing hair from his eyes. "That grief is a gate, not an end. That love—real love—carries through every color."
Around them, the bridge shimmered. Below, the lake rippled with a heartbeat not its own.
Kael reached for her hand. "Then take me with you."
She did.
Some say the siblings vanished into myth. The rainbow bridge only appears to those who grieve truly.
But sometimes, on the edge of a sapphire lake, you might hear a flute and a girl's laugh.
And if you follow, petal by petal, memory by memory—
You might find them waiting.
Together.
In every color.