The rain fell in soft sheets against the windowpane, matching the rhythm of her quiet sobs. Isabella sat by the fireplace, clutching the worn photograph of her younger sister, Lira. Her fingers traced over the faded image, as if she could somehow bring her back with the touch. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but no warmth reached her heart.

Lira was gone now, taken by the river that separated this world from the next. Isabella had always been older, protective—watching over Lira like a guardian angel. But she hadn’t seen it coming. She hadn’t known how to keep her safe when death came calling in the form of sickness and fever.

The family was Pagan, believers in the cycle of life and death, but that didn’t make it any easier. They believed that once someone crossed over, they would find their way across the river to a world beyond—where peace waited. But Isabella couldn’t help but feel lost in her own grief, as if she were standing on the shore, watching Lira sail away without her.

There was a light and a darkened road, her father had once told her. The light was the path of life, where hope and joy could be found, while the darkened road led to death and sorrow. But now, all Isabella saw was darkness. The night seemed endless, and any fading hope she clung to felt like it would soon vanish completely.

She remembered the dream they had once shared—visions of stars twinkling in a sky so vast that it made the heart ache with wonder. Lira had always been the dreamer, the one who believed in magic and whispered about the other side. But now those dreams seemed distant, as if they belonged to another life.

Isabella held the photograph tighter, her chest tightening with each breath. She heard a voice inside her head—a whisper that was both familiar and foreign. It was Lira’s voice, calling out from beyond the river. "Sail away, Isabella," it said softly, as if urging her to let go of the grief that bound her.

But how could she? How could she leave behind all the memories, all the laughter, all the moments they had shared? The thought of crossing over filled her with fear. What if Lira was calling from a place where there was no joy, no light?

There’s a night and a fading hope, the words echoed in her mind. But Isabella couldn’t let go. She wouldn’t.

The fire died down to embers, leaving only the soft glow of candlelight to guide her through the darkness. Outside, the rain continued to fall, as if mourning with her. The wind howled softly, carrying a distant sound—like the rustling of leaves or the gentle splash of water against stone.

Isabella stood up, holding the photograph close to her chest. She walked over to the window and looked out into the night. There was no river visible from where she stood, but in her mind’s eye, she saw it—winding through a landscape filled with stars. The light on the other side seemed faint, but there.

She imagined Lira standing by its banks, waiting for her. "Sail away," the voice whispered again, stronger this time. It wasn’t just Lira calling—it was all of them. Her parents, her ancestors, their Gods and Spirits—they were urging her to let go.

Isabella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt herself being pulled toward that light, but she hesitated. There was still so much left unsaid, so many moments they had shared. But Lira’s voice called again, clearer this time: "I’m waiting for you."

And in that moment, Isabella realized something. The dream wasn’t over—it had simply changed. Life and death were not separate paths but part of the same journey. She didn’t need to fear crossing the river because she knew her sister would be there.

With a final sigh, she placed the photograph on the windowsill, letting it rest in the light of the fading candle. The night was still dark, but there was hope again—soft and distant, like the stars that twinkled beyond the horizon.

"Sail away," Isabella whispered softly to herself, feeling a peace settle over her heart. And though she remained on this side of the river for now, she knew her sister was waiting just across its waters.

The rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt like tears. Instead, they were stars—guiding her through the darkened road toward the light.

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