Lands are not far away when they're in your mind, Mother tells you.
A gossamer voice will weave a tale and you are immersed, wading to your neck in water that doesn't have to be real to be wet, to prickle the goosebumps up along your skin and bring a twine of excited fear into your breath. You've always felt the thin boundaries, all around you, pushed up against them with your palms; Mother scolds you every time you've gone through, but you can't stop. Not when they are everywhere, just waiting to be touched.
But now, there is no Mother, no Brother. No scolding, no crying. There is only you, and the red pain that is so great lets you see the veil for the first time, not just feel it.
A hand, then an arm, and then you step through completely.
The strains of a lullaby are your golden bridge, fairy flagstones that snap into place as you step on them, an arching crescent that builds itself between this world and the next. A path just for you.
You walk with princess shoes, feel your tattered rags melt into the finest silk, and hope tingles along your fingertips. The further you get from the song the closer you come to the light, to what you've known all along.
Blood trickling is now a distant memory, and the gun fire that was ringing in your head has become trumpets and magnificent flutes. Mother is glorious, and she is happy, like an angel.
And your father smiles at you, gesturing for you to sit beside him. We have waited for you, princess.
The hope tingling in your fingers becomes real, washes through every bit of you until you're shining as bright as your beautiful kingdom. Padre.
You ascend the last of the steps as the melody fades, and Mother and Father are there, holding you, hugging you, kissing you.
Blood stops, heart stops, and now your eyes see only one place, one time. One land.
Mother and Father see when it happens, and they smile at you. Welcome home, daughter.