The world shimmered around her like spun glass.
Marisol stood still, the pulse of the battle outside thrumming through her bones—distant yet insistent, like war drums beneath her skin. She could feel Rowan's flame. Lila's pain. Aiden's heartbeat faltering and fighting to keep up. Her friends needed her.
But something else stirred deeper. A whisper. Not of a god but of a human girl—one more day.
She closed her eyes.
"I can go back at any time," she thought. "I'll become what I was meant to be. But just for one moment… let me be me again."
A girl.
Not the heart of a tree. Not the successor of shadows and light.
Just Marisol.
The light bent around her, soft and golden—and when her eyes opened again, she stood in front of the towering gates of Disneyland.
She looked down—no flowing robes, no crown of radiant root and dark thread. Just jeans. Sneakers. A hoodie too big for her shoulders. She exhaled, feeling like herself for the first time in lifetimes.
Behind her, footsteps crunched against imaginary pavement.
"All right we are finally here!," said Garrison with a smile, walking up beside her in khakis and a faded Dodgers cap. His eyes twinkled beneath the bill—soft, familiar, and full of love.
Marisol turned to him, a lump in her throat.
She didn't ask how he was here.
She didn't need to.
She smiled—small, real.
"Let's go," she said.
The sky above was soft blue, the smell of buttered popcorn and sweet beignets drifting on the breeze. Her heart skipped, caught between disbelief and aching familiarity.
"Come on, kiddo," Garrison said with a chuckle, nudging her shoulder while pushing through the busy main street. His voice was easy, familiar—the one she'd memorized on lonely nights.
Marisol turned to him, and for a moment, she was just a girl again. Enjoying a day that was never meant to be. No shadows clinging to her heels. Just her and her father.
She smiled—small, real.
"Let's go," she said.
Before hitting the rides, Garrison insisted on one thing—breakfast. Not just any breakfast, but the full character buffet at the Plaza Inn. He claimed it was for the coffee, but Marisol saw right through him the moment he lit up at the sight of Tigger.
They sat by the window while servers in pastel vests delivered towers of Mickey waffles, eggs, and crispy bacon. Garrison piled his plate too high and dropped half of it trying to wave down Minnie for a picture. Marisol laughed until her juice nearly came out her nose.
Chip and Dale tried to steal her last strawberry. Garrison defended it like it was treasure.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered through a mouthful of waffle, grinning.
"It's perfect," Garrison replied, buttering another biscuit. "Can't save the world on an empty stomach."
With that, they left full and happy, the morning sun casting golden light over the rooftops of Main Street as they made their way toward Tomorrowland.
They spent the rest of the day wandering like her stepfather had always planned. Pirates of the Caribbean first—Garrison pretending to be terrified of the drops while Marisol laughed until her sides hurt. They rode Splash Mountain twice, water soaking through their shirts, hair plastered to their faces, neither caring.
After toweling off with napkins from a nearby churro stand, Garrison pointed toward the Haunted Mansion. "Too spooky for you?" he teased.
"Please," Marisol grinned, pulling out a glowing phone. "I got us a Lightning Lane. Come on, old man."
She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the bypass entrance, flashing the pass with casual triumph. They slipped past the long queue, straight onto the loading platform.
Garrison gave an exaggerated shiver as they stepped into the Doom Buggy. "Tell me when the ghosts show up," he whispered.
Marisol rolled her eyes and yanked him down beside her. "Just don't embarrass me when the mirror ghosts pick you," she muttered, already smirking.
The ride creaked forward into darkness. They leaned together in the buggy, watching glowing specters dance and stretch across velvet halls and candlelit portraits.
For a few minutes, it was easy to pretend the shadows weren't real. That death wasn't something she'd ever known.
On Star Tours, Garrison fumbled the 3D glasses onto his nose upside down, and Marisol giggled uncontrollably until tears blurred her vision.
Later, they climbed into a pastel boat on It's a Small World, letting the music wash over them like an overly enthusiastic lullaby. For a while, it was peaceful—smiling dolls, endless nations, all the colors of the world stitched into one song.
Then the ride broke.
The boat jolted to a stop somewhere near Polynesia. The music kept going. Louder. Slower. Off-key.
Garrison groaned, dramatically slumping in the seat. "This is how it ends. Death by earworm."
Marisol buried her face in her hands, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry—I swear I didn't plan this part."
"You'd make a terrifying god, you know that?" he muttered, grinning through his mock suffering.
They floated there for ten full minutes, listening to fractured choruses on loop. And somehow, in that absurd stillness—surrounded by grinning puppets and echoing harmony—it became one of her favorite memories.
They ate too many beignets under the shade of the big oak trees, powdered sugar coating their fingers. Garrison tried to swipe the sugar onto her nose, and she retaliated by tossing a chunk of beignet at him.
Everything was warm. Alive.
Perfect.
As the sky deepened into violet and gold, they sat on the curb by Main Street, waiting for the fireworks. The castle shimmered in the distance, lights flickering like distant stars.
Marisol hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin there.
"I don't want this day to end," she whispered.
Garrison leaned back on his elbows, watching the first explosion of color light up the sky. His face was calm—wistful.
"You have to go," he said gently.
She turned to him, tears brimming. "I know. There are so many people waiting for me. I just…"
Her voice broke.
"I don't want to leave you again."
Garrison smiled—tired, but proud. "I'm not actually Garrison, remember. Not exactly. Maybe just a memory stitched together from your love for him."
He turned to her fully, expression serious.
"But that doesn't change how much I love you, Marisol. As your father. And it doesn't change how proud I am."
She let the tears fall freely now.
"You believe in me?" she asked, voice small.
Garrison reached out, brushing her hair from her face the way her father, Emilio, used to when she was little.
"Always," he said. "You've become someone better than I could have ever dreamed. You're gonna do great things, kiddo. Things only you can do."
The fireworks crescendoed above them—bursts of silver and blue, a thousand stars raining down over the world.
Marisol stood, her heart trembling.
Garrison stayed seated, watching her with soft eyes.
She took one last look—burning the image into her memory—before she turned toward the crack splitting the air ahead, glowing with dark, blinding light.
The path was jagged, fierce, alive with her own terrifying, beautiful power.
Garrison raised a hand in farewell.
She raised hers too—briefly, before stepping into the light.
And then she closed her eyes. The world folded behind her like a closing storybook, and she was gone, waiting to open her eyes again to her true destiny.