“My child... my firstborn... come closer, dear. I don't have much time.”
Morwyn leaned in close to her mother and tucked the blankets around the frail form that was but a shadow of its former glory. Though she was in her late sixties, Morwyn looked young enough to be this elderly woman's granddaughter, not her eldest child. Morwyn's face was as blank as stone as she held her ear against Mother's chest and listened to the erratic heartbeat within. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up to meet Mother's cloudy gaze. Those rich brown eyes watered with pride and seeing that made Morwyn want to die.
There hadn't been much time to grieve her father's passing before Mother's health had rapidly declined as well. It was only natural that they would pass from the world eventually, but it hurt all the more to blink and miss the twilight years of their lives. Morwyn felt the cruel stab of loss but was numb to it, feeling the hurt but unable to reconcile it with appropriate outward emotion. It was all too much to bear.
She leaned in and tenderly smoothed her mother's thinning mane of white hair to one side. The matriarch of their humble family looked up at her with merciless adoration as she struggled to speak between labored breaths. The rest of the house was silent save for the occasional creak of timbers and soft whispers of grief shared between her siblings in the next room. They'd already said their goodbyes.
“Morwyn, my dearest daughter... we have never kept it from you that you were a surprise to us. A blessing... a gift... but a surprise nonetheless. From the moment you were born... we knew you were special.”
Morwyn's brows drew together as the words of comfort dug into her like a knife but she remained silent. If she were a blessing, she certainly didn't feel like one. Calling her a curse would be more appropriate for the decades of hardship she'd brought to the family. She rubbed the weathered skin of Mother's aged hands as they rested within hers, recalling the countless times she's held them in days of joy and those of sorrow. They had had always felt so strong, so steadfast as they guided and cared for the family. Now their strength had faded, replaced by the frailness of a long life lived to the fullest.
Morwyn was present with Mother as she faded away, but in her mind she'd already said her farewells. A part of her had left the day they'd been run out of Hearthvarn. There had been some good times in the last thirty-odd years and the Shrike family had thrived at their isolated little village built in the privacy of a mountain glen, but it had also given Morwyn plenty of time to blame herself for their hardships. Words to the contrary held little significance against the certainty that every struggle they'd faced, no matter how trivial, was because of her.
“Your father and I... we never knew why you are different from the others. We were just so... happy to have you in our lives,” Mother wheezed before being interrupted by a coughing fit. Morwyn offered her a cup of tea with steady hands, but Mother refused. She was far too weak now to bother with the medicine and they both knew it. “I do not know what life holds in store for you... But I love you. We all do. Always have, always will. Remember us... when we are gone, and we will keep watch over you from above.”
The dam broke and tears flowed without reprieve from Morwyn's eyes. She bowed her head, unable to bear the pain of meeting her mother's gaze, knowing that she'd see nothing but love and support. Despite all the harsh winters, the struggles, the losses... Her family's love for her had never wavered, and neither had hers for them. Yet her heart still broke, knowing that she would outlive them all in turn.
“I love you, Mother. When you see him... tell father I love him too.”
Morwyn knelt beside the bed for a long time as she struggled to steady her wracking sobs, long after her mother's hands had grown cold in her own. There was a smile on the old woman's face and her eyes were closed in peaceful repose. A loving mother until the very end, happy with the daughter that had been the family's undoing.
Morwyn placed a soft kiss on Mother's forehead and folded her hands respectfully across her chest before lifting the blanket over her unmoving face. Stepping back on shaky legs, she ran her hands through her hair and stood tall, wiping her eyes.
It was over. Mother's pain was over. She was with Father now in the great unknown beyond the realm of life. Gods, she wished she could join them, but knew she'd never have the stomach to do the deed herself.
As she turned to leave the room she saw Matthias and Anna standing in the doorway. They bore sad smiles meant to comfort which only served to steel Morwyn's resolve. Her heart ached to see the love in their faces, to feel that love reciprocated so brutally within her own chest.
She committed their faces to memory- every wrinkle, every laugh line, every gray hair that reminded her of a good day spent with people who loved her. She thought of their other siblings, and their children, and their grandchildren too.
“She's... she's at peace, then?” Anna asked in a fragile whisper. Morwyn nodded, unable to speak, and took her sister into her arms. Anna had always been a kind and sensitive soul. Perhaps she could mourn enough for the both of them. Matthias joined the embrace, his salt-and-pepper beard rubbing against Morwyn's cheek as he rested his chin atop Anna's head.
“Elaine and the others are distracting the grandchildren,” he murmured softly as he let his sisters bask in the warmth of his strong arms and drew strength from them in turn. “I've told them that you needed a bit more time with her, but Kormyr has finished digging her grave beside Father's. We should let them see her one last time before we shroud her for the funeral.”
Morwyn disentangled herself from her siblings and stepped back, wiping her eyes once more as she took a shaky breath.
“I need to go,” Morwyn said numbly.
Anna gave her a sympathetic look that was clouded by sorrow.
“Take all the time you need. I'll begin the preparations on Mother's body. We should bury her at sunset, just as we did with Father.”
Morwyn dug her fingernails into her palms as she fought back the tears that threatened to renew their relentless cascade.
“That's not what I meant,” she whispered as her heart shattered. “I need to leave.”
Anna cast a frightened look from Morwyn to Matthias and back again, clearly distraught by what she read in the faces.
“What do you mean? We need you now more than ever! Where could you possibly need to go? What will we do without you?” Anna's voice wavered and Morwyn could tell she was on the verge of complete panic. Matthias locked eyes with Morwyn, staring her down as if he could see through her and read her thoughts directly. His jaw clenched and his eyes watered but he nodded firmly. In that moment Morwyn loved her brother more fiercely than ever and hated herself for what she needed him to do, what she'd asked him in confidence in the days since Father had passed.
“Go, Morwyn,” Matthias said as tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. “I know that you won't find answers here. Remember that we love you and that Shrikes never, ever give up on family. Even when that means having to let them go.”
Morwyn turned to grab the pack that she'd stashed in Mother's wardrobe when she'd planned this moment several days prior. She hefted it on her back and stared out the open window at the field of wildflowers in the meadow beyond.
“No... No! You can't do this, please! You can't just-” Anna's panicked scream was muffled as Matthias wrapped her in a bear hug and pulled her face into his chest, restraining the woman before she could leap upon Morwyn and force her to stay. Anna fought to free herself fiercely, but Matthias' embrace was implacable. Shame and despair coursed through Morwyn's entire being at the thought of how much pain her departure would cause but she knew in her heart it was what she needed to do.
“I love you all more than life itself,” Morwyn whispered before making her way toward the window. She looked back over her shoulder one last time. Matthias had a traitorous hand clamped over Anna's mouth to keep her from alerting the others and Anna's face was crimson from the frenzied but vain effort of fighting him off. The unconditional love of a brother and sister, expressed in the most diametric manner imaginable.
Morwyn slipped out out of the window but one hand lingered on the sill as her heart pounded in her chest and tears overcame her barriers once more. She turned back and spoke to both of them, particularly to Anna, her voice cracking as she did so.
“I hope you'll come to forgive me someday.”
With those final, contemptible words, Morwyn walked away from the only real love she'd ever known. The love of her family.