Kyndall had this tradition of reflecting on the year every year on her birthday in the same way most people reflect on a year once the new one arrive January first. This year she simply happened to be about four weeks late. There simply hadn’t been time to think about it between the rush of Christmas and the excitement of the new play. That was the challenge of being born a week before Christmas. She couldn’t imagine what those born closer to the holiday had to suffer, never getting any distinction for the event of their birth. Now that she was getting older her birthdays mattered less and less. She was too old to go out and party all night like she used to and too young to give up celebration altogether. A tricky age. Right now she was in bed staring at the moon out her window and trying to pretend like she was able to fall asleep.

Never had she been so happy to see a year go than she was now, bringing with it all of these confusing and painful changes and challenges. Losing her daughter, which was still a fresh pain in her heart, was the worst thing to happen to her. She constantly checked on her in the night, wishing she could take those memories that haunted her away. She was over protective where her daughter went and with whom. She’d been reminded just how easily someone she loved could be taken from her and thought of her own dear twin sister and shuddered.

It had brought them closer in its own way but they were still different, and at natural odds but both knew just what it was they had come close to losing and that spoke more than teenage rebellion or a mother’s hopes for her daughter to follow in her footsteps.

And then there was becoming a knight and joining this war she still wasn’t comfortable with. She’d seen children fighting on what she considered the “good” side under the misguided notion that they were superheroes as only a child can pretend. It was no wonder they saw it that way. Children aren’t capable of comprehending how dangerous this really is. And there was training with Camelot and fighting with youma and having nightmares about everything she was doing. It all weighed on her like a vice grip, making her feel the heaviness of being involved. She’d only wanted peace. Was that so wrong?

And then there was Tony himself, the one bright spot in 34 that made it somehow better. As Camelot or as Tony he’d become a pillar of strength for her and by now she could not suppress the idea that she was really and truly, well and gone in love with him. Try as she might and for better or worse its how she felt. She could not imagine feeling any other way and did not try. It made life occasionally awkward and painful but it was what it was. She’d learned that the hard way and Dave paid the price for it.

Taking a deep breath she leaned back into her pillow and closed her eyes, making the same wish that she’d made every year prior since her dear sister took her own life.

“A year is passed and I have survived. Please make this next year better than the last full of new rewarding experiences and full of fond memories with friends and family.”