Through Light and Shadow

A little boy, no taller than my thigh, stood in the doorway. His hair, a tousled mess of dark curls, peeked out from beneath a delicate flower crown—petals of soft pink and lavender nestled among tiny, shimmering leaves. His round cheeks glowed with the warmth of youthful innocence, and his wide green eyes—so vivid they almost seemed to mirror the forest—sparkled with curiosity.

My heart melted.

A grin stretched across my face, and I barely resisted the urge to squeal. Look at him! A living forest fairy-child.

"Hello there," Aldric greeted, his voice shifting into a softer tone I hadn't heard before. He crouched down, bringing himself to the boy's level. "New face, huh? Whose your mother, child?"

The boy giggled—a sound that reminded me of wind chimes caught in a playful breeze—and took a step forward. To my utter delight, he reached out with tiny fingers and tugged Aldric's beard.

I couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped me.

Aldric's eyes widened in surprise, his balance faltering as he stumbled backward. For a second, I thought he might fall flat on his backside. "Whoa—!"

The boy only giggled more, his small hand gripping the beard like a treasured discovery. My laughter bubbled up louder, echoing through the quiet glade.

"Leroy!" a voice called out from inside the treehouse. Footsteps—quick, hurried—thumped against wooden floors, and then a familiar figure emerged. Diana's auburn hair streaked with white was pulled back in a messy braid, flour dusting her tunic. She stopped at the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other wiping at her cheek. "What did I tell you about answering the door?" Her tone held a mix of reprimand and affection.

Leroy's smile faltered, his shoulders drooping. With a tiny pout, he released Aldric's beard and shuffled back inside, his little feet padding softly against the moss-covered floor.

"Cute grandson you have there," Aldric remarked as he straightened up, rubbing his chin where the boy had tugged. His voice carried amusement, though I could still hear the echo of surprise lingering in it.

Diana rolled her eyes but smiled. "Yeah, he's three. Little handful." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Sorry I didn't answer sooner—I was cooking. Hold on, I'll grab your package." Without bothering to close the door, she disappeared inside.

From where I stood, I caught a glimpse of the interior—a cozy haven wrapped in the embrace of the living tree. The walls, rich with natural wood grains, curved gracefully upward, branches weaving through the space like nature's own architecture. Shelves carved into the bark held pots of herbs and stacks of worn books. Warm light spilled from glowing orbs nestled among hanging ferns, casting dancing shadows across the room.

In the heart of it all, Leroy was now perched on the back of a young woman—perhaps my age—who dashed around with him as if playing airplane. His laughter rang out, filling the space with joy that seemed to soak into the very walls. It was a home. Not just a house—but a place built on warmth, love, and shared laughter.

I turned my head to check on Aldric, wondering if he was seeing this, too.

He was.

His gaze lingered on the scene inside, his posture straight but... softer. There was something in his eyes—a glint of something old, something heavy. And then he spoke, voice quieter than I'd ever heard.

"If... If Mira made it through the war," he murmured, "we'd have grandkids by now. Or... maybe children your age."

The words struck like a sudden drop in temperature. The sadness in his voice wasn't just a passing ache—it was deep. It lingered. The gruff, sometimes sarcastic Aldric I thought I knew shifted before my eyes. The kindness in his gaze hadn't just been warmth—it was the gentleness of someone who had loved deeply and lost just as much.