The Horizon

Arthur stood up. He felt light. Unanchored.

He looked around. The suburbs were gone. In their place was a primeval forest of glowing mushrooms and singing stones. The air tasted of champagne and ozone.

He turned to Elara. She had shrunk back down to human size, though she still glowed.

"You did it," she said, taking his hand. Her touch didn't shock him anymore. It felt like part of himself.

"I destroyed my house," Arthur said, looking at the pile of rubble that used to be his life. His books were scattered in the moss, already sprouting flowers from their pages.

"You built a garden," Elara corrected.

She pointed to the horizon.

Where the highway used to be, there was now a waterfall falling *upwards* into the purple sky. Creatures—dragons, griffins, things with no names—were emerging from the treeline.

The barrier was gone. Earth was Fae.

"What happens now?" Arthur asked. He waited for the fear. He waited for the fatalism to tell him he had made a mistake.

But the fear was gone. In its place was a hunger. A curiosity.

Elara smiled. It was the smile of the Herald who had finally found her home.

"Now?" she said. "Now we find out what happens when the story doesn't end."

Arthur looked at the chaos. He looked at the woman who had brought the summer.

He took a deep breath of the alien air.

"Okay," Arthur said. "Lead the way."

They walked hand in hand into the deep, wild green, leaving the ruins of the old world behind to bloom in their wake.