Asking you to look into her disappearance—and to look for her now—is a decision I will struggle with forever more. Alas, that decision has now been made, as I put pen to paper, and there is no going back.

I understand that this is no easy task. I hope that the two of you might work hand in hand to indulge this final wish of mine. No private detective has succeeded. No avid fan of hers, no colleague. Not even myself. I can only hope that her own daughters—who possess pieces of her—might better understand my precious fox.

She lives on Viloxin, my daughters. Find her.

I hope that you will forgive me one day for asking this of you, and for allowing you to remain ignorant of her true nature. My aim was to protect you from our humanity. I only realize now, as my body fails me, that we are all only human, that there is a beauty in this, and that parents must, in the end, have faith in their children to cultivate and manage their own humanity as adults.

I will warn you, whether or not you choose to take on this task: Viloxin and Hero Pharmaceuticals itself are much changed since you lived here. Take care in choosing whom to trust. I have not barricaded myself inside of Stökéwood simply because of ill health: There are those who wish our downfall, all of us. I leave this note with Mina now, because it is the only way I know it will be secure, and I only hope you meet her before too long. She’s been my most loyal companion for these past eight years.

From a man to his daughters: I have loved you both, I love you both, and I will love you both, as long as a single spark of consciousness allows. I know that your mother felt the same, for as long as I knew her.

Tai folds the note in half, ignoring the careful creases, and I sit in silence, lost for words.

“We love you too, Dad,” Tai says into the empty air, breaking into a sob and rubbing her nose on her shirtsleeve.

But I am not Tai.

It is impossible, at first, for me to think about the actual specifics of the letter. His proclamations of love. His confession that Mama wasn’t who she said she was—and that not only did White Fox exist, but she wrote it for us. His assertion that—my God—he saw Mama and thinks she’s living on Viloxin.