A silhouette was at the edge of Marie's vision. Similar to her in form, it was thinner and more delicate. She looked out on the forest, calm and happy. Peaceful eyes, so much like her daughter's, swept over the yard. Pride held her head high, of a mother and teacher. Both hands rested on the porch rail. The smile she wore was content, and Marie knew this was how Bethany looked at her age.

Marie felt her. The presence of Bethany was warm, protective, and understanding. A lazy morning wind brought the smell of gingerbread to her. They could be twins, she mused. Tears blurred her vision, and were wiped away. Relief, heartache, and shame robbed Marie of resolve. With a patient smile, Bethany cast away her trepidation.

"Mom," she said though shuffled her feet.

"Yes," Bethany smiled at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, though the words fell to a whisper.

"There is no need for apologies," she looked at out on the forest, "I know the fear of your legacy."

"I should have never let others' mean-spirited words control how I feel."

"I tried to free you from it," her woeful smile was slight, "It was my choice, and I know you wanted to be free, of me and of this." She gestured at Ashless Hollow.

"I didn't want free of you," she blushed, "I was afraid of becoming you. I thought money and a career would, you know, make me whole or something else." She shrugged, "I don't know."

"We made our choices," she placed her hand upon hers, but Marie felt nothing, "we suffer the consequences."

"What happens now?" she asked, but looked out on the flower.

The cycle has been cleansed. Balance has begun to return."

"I can see little changes already," she saw the hues of the lowland had grown lighter, "maybe, in time; Ashless Hollow can be like it was before the Van Lear."

"As the machine brightens, so the world around it shall also flourish," she nodded, "and you were the one who restored it."

"Do I stay?" she shifted as thoughts pulled her. The possibilities overwhelmed.

"The Van Lear family has been stopped, and Lance has received his judgment. Lord Abaddon has claimed another, "Bethany shivered at the name."

"It's terrible that so many had to die," Marie knew the image of Rutger holding Carol would live in her dreams.

"Their chose, their fates," she looked at Marie, "and it was theirs to choose, not yours. The McWhorter and Gregory families wanted to end the Van Lear hegemony, no matter the price. They paid that debt in Blood."

"Eleanor wanted them to pay," Marie countered.

"No," she said with a slow shake of the head, "she desired that Ashless Hollow be restored, and justice brings back the world to balance. Wishing darkness upon another brings it into your heart. Understand it, so you can be master of it inside yourself."

"I guess those who live in the past are destined to die in it."

"If you're always looking backs, then you never see what is ahead," she nodded. "However, the past is important. Know our triumphs and failures, understand them."

"Is there anything here for me?' Marie asked.

"You've saved Ashless Hollow, and the land has a long memory," Bethany looked at her, but held a hand out towards the forest. A flower opened to the growing light, scared yet hopeful. "It will show you gratitude for all you've done. Its bounty is yours. As you've protected it, so it'll watch over you."

"There are lots of secrets here," she said, though looked at her mother who nodded.

"Many truths too," she grinned, "if one is willing to learn."

"What of," she shivered, "does Uroboros the great serpent slumber?"

"Not yet, though it too wishes to express its gratitude."

Marie grimaced, "It will live in my nightmares."

"You should see it, uncorrupted," she held a hand to her heart; "it is beautiful."

"I can feel it and the land," Marie had sensed the bog, like a dream that lingered at the back of the mind.

"Blood of our family is part of Ashless Hollow," Bethany turned to her daughter. "No matter what happens, I will be with you. All of the La Voison women are always with you. Dim Cassilda is your ancestral knowledge." She faded away with a smile.

"Inky," Tim said as he opened the door. About the porch he glanced certain that someone else had spoken. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking of my mother," she looked at him, ashamed of the lie. Tim had taken care of Bethany. No one asked him to do it; he'd loved her like family.

"She was great," he smiled, "always proud of your work."

"She read my work?" Marie smiled though flushed.

He held up a finger, left, but returned in a minute. In his hands was a handmade chest of deeply stained oak. With a wince, he opened it, "Bethany made sure to get physical copies of every story."

Marie reached for the newspapers, stopped, and took the stack of clippings. Every story, even the fluff and filler, was lovingly kept like little treasures. "What did she say? Was…did I hurt her?"

Tim blinked, "She was proud. Inky, she would talk to me for days about your stories." The grin spread, and he chuckled, "When you got your first big break, she wept with joy."

Marie held the exact clipping to her heart, "I think that life is behind me." Back into the chest she placed the paper.

"So, what do you want to do now?" he steeled himself, as the question hung in the air.

"I think, for now, I will stick around here for a while."

"Well," he looked around, though frowned at all the little changes, "maybe, we'll check out the quarry." Tim strove for puckish, but his deep blush ruined the roguish quip.

Eyebrows raised, she watched his color deepen. Lovely eyes searched the porch, "I think we can explore lots of things. The future is open. In that book, there will be a lot to learn and discover." She swallowed, "I know that I've sought out secrets, but with so many at my fingertips, I'm scared and a little excited."

"I'll be here."

"Whatever happens, we'll be together," she took his hand. Bright was his grin, and Marie blushed at his joy.

"Maybe," he squeezed her hand, "the town will recover."

"It should," she felt the forest, "if it is protected."

"Do you care if I stay here, with you?"

"I would love that, I need you so much," she smiled but her mind drifted back to Alice, who had grown still after the ghost was ripped away. Lance was gone to leave only a shell, "We'll see what the future holds."