Siren's Rest

A year passed since the unsettling experience in the Nevada desert and, although Lizbeth had continued her search, something inside her begun to quiet down.

After the adventure, she and Van continued traveling together for a few weeks, mainly to calm down. Lizbeth suspected that Van didn't want to leave her alone until she was sure she wouldn't do anything crazy like looking for clues guided by another suspicious magical object. But she had learned her lesson. The two traveled to Spain, where they parted ways, and Lizbeth spent some time with her friends there, while Van left for Russia.

The clues, which once seemed almost supernatural in their intensity, now dissolved into the void like the heat of a dying star. Her days had become an endless sequence of journeys, but the certainty that Shin was no longer anywhere within reach became more undeniable with every step.

In her dreams, she still saw him—only to wake up with bitterness. Her mind had sought answers in every corner of every city, in every corridor of her memory, but the traces of her beloved were nowhere to be found. Her hope, once fierce, now faded like dust between her fingers.

The love that had once been her beacon was gone.

Mimi still called her from time to time, always asking for forgiveness, though they couldn't meet. Once, Lizbeth nearly became angry about it. The next day, she called back to apologize. Mimi told her she didn't have to—she was right. She had left her when she needed her most.

No one knew what was going on with Mimi—where she was, or if she was hiding from someone.

Lizbeth searched for clues among their mutual contacts, but no one had seen her since 1997—around the same time the three of them had last been together. "What happened to her?" she wondered.

She laid traps to locate her—through magic, through satellites, with Gehirn's help—but none worked. Mimi had money, but no bank account, making transaction tracking impossible. She had always preferred to carry cash rather than rely on banks, even the communal funds of the feys. Rein and Noki had also tried to find her, to no avail. Mimi would call to make sure they were both okay, but she never gave the slightest hint of her location.

Eventually, Lizbeth gave up. It was enough to know that Mimi was alive, each time she called. Her voice was sad, yes, but there was no sign of danger in her tone. It felt more like caution—or so Lizbeth believed.

Lizbeth wandered across the United Kingdom, revisiting the places that had witnessed their shared love. In each one, she searched for a sign, a clue—something to connect her to the truth buried in the shadows of distance. Every spot, every English landscape they had walked, every Scottish hill, every Irish forest where she had once been with Shin—each echoed back to her that perhaps this search had always been doomed.

Eventually, she reached Emmeline and took back the RV. She wanted to drive it again—to feel that strange comfort of her old home on wheels. Months had gone by in aimless wandering, and though the cities offered fresh destinations, she felt wrapped in a mantle of melancholy, as if she had exhausted every possibility. The memories remained vivid, but they echoed from a time long past.

During one of her journeys, Lizbeth drove the RV to a small square in a city she didn't remember ever visiting. She parked under a solitary tree, letting the stillness of the sunset envelop her. There was no rush, no direction. Just her and the fading roar of the engine as it slowly turn off. The poor RV was old, and Lizbeth wasn't exactly a siren apprentice either anymore. Ah, well, maturity in the fey always depended on perspective.

Maybe she should give the engine another check, she always had tools with her. She didn't want to get stranded. Getting spare parts for the RV was becoming difficult since it was considered vintage by humans.

Then she heard it: a street musician, sitting on the edge of the fountain, softly strumming his guitar.

The rascal was perched next to a sign that read: "Do not sit on the fountain." His voice, gentle and melancholic, floated through the air, cutting through the last rays of sunlight. She leaned out of the passenger window to hear the music better. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but there was something… strange, about his voice… or maybe it was the instrument?

Lizbeth stopped to listen, and something in the lyrics the man had just begun, in the cracked timbre of his voice, resonated deep within her:

In folds of time, we find each other again,

like moths chasing fireflies, both lost in a misty rain.

Years left their marks, but not all show on our skin.

Now you are gone, yet you live in shards that refuse to dim.

We counted our absences, like morning fallen stars,

and in each sunset, a sigh of ours returns.

In this world we shattered the calm of deserted nights,

but then again later, leaving a taste that drowns the light.

Oh! Love in fragments, broken mirrors reflecting alone,

but still pieces of a puzzle, completing the whole.

Seasons hurry past, a train that never leaves its track,

but like a river that never forgets its path,

our hearts always called us back.

Yet forward we move, through shadows and dawn's first light,

like winds carving valleys, relentless in their flight.

The stars we once counted may scatter in distant skies,

but new constellations form, echoing where our courage lies.

Tomorrow whispers softly, in winds that guide our way,

and though we fear the night, it cannot steal the day.

Paths unseen await, with doors that softly creak,

promising stories untold, and truths we've yet to seek.

Oh! Love in fragments, seeds that still can grow,

yet still hidden, beneath the silent snow.

The heart remembers, but the steps must find their pace,

and even in goodbye, life leaves a gentle trace.

Oh! We parted in shadows, like leaves scattered by the wind,

yet traces of you linger, like echoes that never rescind.

Time hurries onward, like a train bound to its track,

but memories, like rivers, always find their way back.

Our hearts, though distant, still whisper in the dark,

carrying the light of a trace that leaves no mark.

For a moment, the square seemed to hold its breath. Lizbeth closed her eyes and let the words and music pass through her.

When she opened her eyes, the musician was no longer on the fountain. She heard hurried voices ordering the musician to stop for breaking the law. A couple of police officers were chasing him, in his flight he had started singing some verses and rimes that weren't exactly flattering to the public forces.

Lizbeth smiled. What a shame, she had not seen his face due to the distance and because he was wearing a cap covering his face.

Only the echo of the melody remained, and a wind that seemed to push her forward. She felt a gentle warmth in her chest.

"Ok, alright. I am listening. I understand," she said. And a couple minutes later left. She needed to find a place to have the vehicle checked. But that song still resonated in her mind for days and weeks.

At last—resignation.

Her journey led her to the Isle of Skye, to a secluded beach of black sand where the wind whispered secrets and the landscape itself seemed to carry old memories—secrets Lizbeth no longer wished to uncover, because she was one of them now. They had lived and loved in that place. Their story was now part of the landscape for anyone who wanted to hear it in the whispers of the rocks, or the waves washing the sand.

On the cliffs, surrounded by the sound of the waves and the mountains standing like eternal witnesses, Lizbeth felt that everything had reached its end. She couldn't keep searching like this. Shin wouldn't have wanted that either.

That adventure in Nevada should have been her wake-up call. A realization that her search could very well kill her. And still—she had continued. At least for a while. That thing—whatever it had been—had not broken her spirit. She had decided to keep going on her own terms.

Lizbeth hugged her knees to her chest, the sea wind brushing gently against her face.

There, in that place where love had once bloomed, she made the decision she had postponed for too long.

She let go of the search for Shin—not out of a lack of love, but out of a need to heal, to find a path not marked by the pain of a pursuit that no longer made sense. The love still burned in her chest, but she couldn't keep chasing it like this.

This wasn't like 1974.

In their last meeting, she had sensed something was coming. Shin didn't tell her what it was, but warned her that he would cut off communication. Perhaps he had truly disappeared for good.

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Despite the decision she had made, part of her still longed for Shin to appear—as if it were still possible for him to return from some faraway place, from a corner of the world she had not yet reached. But at the same time, deep down, Lizbeth knew it was time to stop waiting. The search was over. Now, all that remained was a long rest—not just physical, but mental. A pause in her life to heal and let go of all that had been left behind.

As she watched the sea's horizon, the wind caressing her face and the waves whispering in her ears, Lizbeth closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to breathe—without the weight of the past.

She still loved Shin, but now she understood: love doesn't always mean waiting. Sometimes, it means letting go—so that life can continue.

***

The term "rest" was not exactly what she found in the following years. She had brief adventures while trying to live peacefully and away from danger. The girls also stopped when she did and apologized for worrying them for so long. Rein and Noki understood and were also sad, but they understood that they had to move on. After a month of family vacation, the two girls returned to South America.

She wanted to do other things. Perhaps even take up drawing again, which she hadn't done in a long time. She took the RV through France and Spain, traveling and visiting old friends. Many had moved away over the years.

Although hidden, human affairs also influenced the migratory flows of the feys, even though the vast majority did not care about geographical boundaries. The only ones in trouble were the feys who had to live permanently hidden from humans, for example species such as dragons or centaurs, although they were few in number—not counting hundreds of other magical creatures around the world.

Not even the secrecy of governments could slow down the advance of technology and the fact that someday in the future the whole hidden world of feys, humans with abilities, and magic would come to light.

It was the end of 2005, when Lizbeth began to notice something she could no longer ignore.

Fatigue started to creep into her body insidiously, like a mist one doesn't see coming until it's everywhere. She woke each morning with the sensation of not having rested at all, and throughout the day, an inexplicable exhaustion overtook her, making her feel as if her body was struggling against an invisible tide.

Everything felt heavier. Every step required more effort. Even the activities that once brought her satisfaction became monotonous, and life itself seemed to blur. The colors, the people, the cities—everything felt wrapped in a kind of fog from which she couldn't escape.

Something inside her was pulling her toward an inevitable fate, a warning she had once forgotten, now manifesting through her body for the first time.

The exhaustion became a constant shadow, like a silent presence trailing her closely, whispering that her time in the waking world was nearing its end.

The RV returned to Emmeline's hangar. She could no longer drive it. She had crashed it, left a dent. She had fallen asleep at the wheel.

As the months passed, Lizbeth came to understand that this was no fleeting fatigue—it was something far deeper, something ancient.

Finally, despite suspecting the outcome, she sought answers.

In an effort to understand what was happening to her, she made her way to Miskatonic University, to the newly renovated Armitage Foundation, which had continued studying feys and beings like her.

There, in hallways full of new faces, she ran into Oxy as well. Restless Oxy was deeply immersed in physics and the study of ancient grimoires.

She consulted with several experts who had dedicated recent years to investigating the nature of feys with the aid of modern medicine. After a series of tests and analyses, the diagnosis was clear.

The specialists confirmed what she had feared: she was entering her hibernation period, a natural phenomenon for certain feys of her age.

It was something that happened occasionally to older feys—a biological need that could not be avoided, a cycle in which the body required deep rest to conserve its energy and continue its existence over the decades.

Though the process was not unusual for her kind, for Lizbeth, the news struck like another blow in a life already marked by countless comings and goings.

Lizbeth was already nearing seventy in human terms, and considering the pace she had maintained, it was a miracle she had lasted that long.

The news plunged her into a very deep reflection… in her own style. Fuck! I can't believe it.

She knew she couldn't escape what was happening, but the idea of falling into a deep sleep, away from the world and all she had known, was terrifying.

Her mind—always stirred by the search for Shin, for Mimi, and the desire to understand her own existence and just live—now had to face the need to disconnect, to surrender to a nature she could not control.

With a heavy heart and uncertainty pressing on her chest, she decided she had to find a place where she could hibernate safely, away from the prying eyes of the world.

After pondering it for a while, Lizbeth knew where she had to go.

Of course—she had known for a long time.

At the end of 2006, after putting other matters in order, she left for the south, for Argentina, for the secret city where several feys like her slept until they decided to wake up.

Argentina was the final destination, a remote and little-known place where the oldest feys went to rest, preserving their energy and their existence. Lizbeth knew it was her only option.

In the cold reaches of Tierra del Fuego, the secret city and research center awaited—with the sanctuary where feys could withdraw from active life, stepping away from the memories and emotions that kept them anchored to the outside world.

There Lizbeth could sleep and rest without fear of being found or disturbed.

And though the thought of perhaps slipping into an who-knows-how-long sleep filled her with unspeakable fear, she also understood that it was the only way forward—to continue living beyond exhaustion and the endless search.

Who knew? Perhaps Shin would be there to meet her when she awoke.

But for now, all she could do was close her eyes and allow sleep to come.

When Lizbeth arrived in Tierra del Fuego, she was greeted by Leon, Rein, and Noki, who guided her through the city and the renewed research center—technology and tranquility coexisted in unsettling symbiosis.

The small city resembled more an advanced technological complex than anything else, but with the atmosphere of a modern, futuristic hospital, where the air was thick with the feeling of absolute order.

Leon had truly poured himself into the project.

She still remembered when he first told them about it, and how they had once accompanied Rein and Noki there when they wanted to spend time at the facility.

But she hadn't imagined it had grown to over a thousand people.

The buildings, with their smooth and metallic structures, reflected a cold, serene light. The facilities were designed both for research and the care of feys who needed a controlled environment to hibernate safely—and, at the same time, for espers to live in relative calm as they developed their abilities.

Despite the serene appearance, there was something in the air that made her feel alien, as if she were about to step into an unfamiliar and strange stage of her existence.

Rein and Noki walked with her through the facility, ensuring everything was ready for what was to come.

Though they did not voice it openly, Lizbeth could see the concern in her daughters' eyes.

The hibernation process was not something to be taken lightly. They knew that once she entered the capsule, she would lose all awareness for an undefined period—a time during which her body and mind would be surrendered to lethargy. There were theories that humanity could have hibernated in the past, but there was not much evidence to support this, despite the fact that ancient species known in the occult world spoke of it in hidden ruins around the world.

Yet this process was necessary. It was the only way Lizbeth could carry on, maintain her longevity, and preserve her strength for whatever might come in the future.

She enjoyed a week in the company of the girls. Rein and Noki had moved into a flat near the city centre. It was obvious which part of the flat belonged to each of them. Rein had everything tidy and organised with her books. And Noki... well, it wasn't that she was a mess, but it was clear that she didn't care too much about the disorder—even though it sometimes drove Rein crazy. She relaxed during those days, but eventually the fatigue set in and she decided it was time to go to the centre so as not to prolong the process any longer.

During the days leading up to her descent into slumber, the three of them spent time together, sharing quiet moments and conversation, though each of them felt the farewell looming, inevitable, and that the world outside would continue its course without them.

That was when the surprise Lizbeth hadn't expected arrived. She had spoken with her just a few days ago, but she didn't expect to see her.

The dream was calling to her with a softness that was almost cruel. It was like a current dragging her out to sea, whispering for her to let go, to surrender. But not yet. Not when there were still things left unsaid, when her body still remembered the warmth of her lovers the last time the three of them had been together.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from that trance. Lizbeth half-opened her eyes and saw the silhouette in the shadows. She didn't need to ask. She recognized her blurry figure with just one glance.

She had changed. Her hair had grown a little longer. And she looked different. Almost more mature. Lizbeth could tell, even with her still dressed in that coat and sweater.

"Come in, move your ass over here…"

She had finally appeared and approached shyly. Lizbeth smiled as she got closer and sat up.

"Mimi…"

Her name escaped her lips in a whisper, but it was enough. Mimi came closer, shoulders tense, eyes glimmering with restrained emotion. She sat at the edge of the bed and looked at her, as if unsure whether she should touch her.

"Come here, damn it," Lizbeth said, raising her arms.

Mimi, crying, collapsed into her embrace.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I came too late, didn't I?"

Lizbeth gave her a tired smile, while feeling Mimi's tears on her own cheek.

"It's never too late for you."

The woman looked down and toyed with the edge of the sheet. Her fingers trembled. Lizbeth leaned in and kissed her, then moved to her ear.

"If you came for milk, I gotta warn you it's been dry for a while. You'll have to wait 'til I wake up."

Mimi slapped her arm.

"Ow!"

"You're unbelievable."

They both laughed, while Mimi wiped her tears.

"I didn't want to show up like this, so suddenly. But I couldn't let you go without seeing you."

Lizbeth felt a pang in her chest.

"Go?" she repeated softly. "It's just a rest. A long rest. I'm not dead."

Mimi pressed her lips together. Her voice cracked.

"Friday… I'm sorry. I wasn't there when you needed me. When you were looking for him, when I should've been by your side… I—"

Lizbeth raised a hand with effort and covered Mimi lips with her finger. Her skin was still warm, still familiar.

"Don't you dare say that. You had your own reasons, your own path. I never blamed you, never would. I don't know what you're going through, but you know that when you need me, I'll be here. Even if I'm asleep, shout for me and I'll come help."

Mimi's shoulders trembled more. Lizbeth felt the tears fall onto the sheet and gently ran her fingers down Mimi's cheek, wiping them away.

Mimi leaned in and whispered something in Lizbeth's ear. "I've discovered some things about myself—"

Upon hearing this, Lizbeth's eyes widened and she pressed her finger to Mimi's lips. She was dying to know, but she knew what lay behind those words. She had felt that terror too.

"Shh. Don't say another word. Whatever it is, I forgive you."

"Why are you like this? Even when I was the one who—" Mimi began, and Lizbeth silenced her again with a finger to her lips.

"Shhh… you're here now. That's what matters."

"But I missed you…" Mimi shut her eyes tightly. "So many years… I thought we had lost everything. I thought I'd never see you again. And now, when I finally can, you're… like this."

Lizbeth gently pulled her closer, their foreheads touching in the dim light.

"Shhh… I'm here now. And so are you."

The silence between them was thick, full of everything they hadn't said in all those years apart. The air was heavy with memories, with moments they never got to share. Lizbeth hugged her.

"You still can't tell me what happened at least before?"

"Someday I will. I can't yet. When you fall asleep, I have to leave quickly."

Whatever had happened to Mimi was still happening. But she didn't look emaciated or anything like that. She seemed to be in good health... she had a sparkle in her eyes that wasn't from tears, but Lizbeth wasn't sure what it could be.

"That's okay. I won't pressure you."

They stayed in each other's arms a while longer.

"Take care of the girls, alright? At least call them from time to time to check what they're up to."

Mimi lifted her head, her eyes still red, and smiled with sadness.

"I'll try. But you know how they are. They started their own path long ago… just like we did."

Lizbeth chuckled softly.

"Yeah… just like us."

Mimi looked at her in silence. Her fingers brushed over Lizbeth's face with unusual tenderness, as if trying to memorize every curve, every detail. Lizbeth noticed her breathing falter, like she was holding something deeper inside. Then she said it.

"Stay with me tonight."

Mimi blinked, surprised, but her expression showed no doubt. Only that familiar gaze—the one that, long ago, had taken the initiative to kiss her when Shin first introduced them. A love that was still there, that had waited in some quiet corner.

"Can you...?"

"It's the last night before a sleep I don't know how long will last. I want to give myself at least one joy. Fingers alone bore me."

Mimi smiled."Alright."

She leaned in and kissed her with the sweetness of overdue reunions. Lizbeth responded with the same calm, no rush, letting the feeling take over.

That night, time blurred. Mimi held her with tenderness, moving gently, as if afraid to break her. Lizbeth clung to her, to her warmth, to the sense that the world still existed, that something still waited beyond sleep.

There was no urgency in their touch. It wasn't the fire from before, but something deeper. A farewell, like a wordless promise. It was strange—she didn't know why, but it almost felt like Mimi was touching her the same way Shin had the last time. As if she feared for her too.

When it was over, Lizbeth felt Mimi's warmth around her, their breathing synchronized.

Now she was ready.

They talked a bit more, but slowly Lizbeth began to drift off. Just a nap before the long sleep.

Finally, the day came. Lizbeth was prepared for the final stage of her process. If left to progress naturally, she probably still had a couple weeks before falling asleep, which is why they would now use a gas to accelerate the process and allow her to finally rest. The facility's technicians guided her toward the hibernation capsule—a structure of steel and glass, looking like something out of a sci-fi film.

The capsule was equipped with advanced control technology to monitor her sleep and regulate her vital functions, now at their minimum, ensuring everything remained in balance while she lay in deep slumber. Lizbeth said her goodbyes, looked at the capsule, and entered. She truly wondered how the old generation feys had done it before the Vanishing.

She hugged Rein and Noki, burying her face in their hair, as if she wanted to keep their scent safe for when she returned.

"So, promise me something," she whispered, closing her eyes. "When I wake up—if I wake up—I want to see you just as stubborn… and happy. Take care of each other. Don't wait for me, because we don't know how long this will take. Live your lives. That will be the best gift you can give me."

The two girls wrapped their arms around her. They were still small, yet already grown, maybe even more mature than she was.

She kissed and embraced Mimi, then turned to Leon, with a tired smile and bumped fists with him.

She was lucky. Or at least she felt that way. She hoped nothing would happen while she was asleep.

Mimi, Rein, and Noki remained by her side, making sure Lizbeth was comfortable before the capsule closed. Leon, at a nearby console with a couple of medical technicians, oversaw the parameters and activated the hibernation sequence, while Lizbeth felt her body slowly relaxing, her awareness of the world fading.

With one last sigh, Lizbeth let the dream take her. The capsule sealed, and the sound of the lock echoed in the air, a reminder that her time in the waking world had come to an end—at least for now.

In that moment, her body entered stillness, into a slumber that would last as long as it needed. In that deep silence, Lizbeth began her long rest, hoping that when she awoke, the world had changed in some way—and with luck, that her search had not been lost forever in the shadows of time.

But for now, the only thing she could do was let herself be carried away by the dream, trusting that one day, the cycle of her life would begin again.

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