Rosie sifted through bags and boxes of donations, doing her best to use the moment to practice mindfulness, but it was getting increasingly difficult to pay attention to reality when she had access to a magic dimension that responded to her moods and needs. Her volunteer shift was almost over, though, and she felt both elated to get back to her magic studies and guilty about wanting to leave.

  As she was dressing for the cold, the director knocked gently on the door frame. “Do you have a moment?”

  “Oh, um…” She was nervous they were going to ask her to stay later, but she grounded herself. “Yes, what's up?”

  They stepped into the foyer. “I have some bad news about your poetry night. We’re going to have to cancel it.”

  Rosie was mid scarf-wrap and stopped. “M-may I ask why?”

  “We just don’t have the funding for it this year.”

  “Funding? But it doesn't cost anything.”

  “It makes it seem like the centre has more than it needs.”

  She swallowed. “So it’s politics.”

  “It’s survival, Rosie.”

  They both sighed. “Yeah, okay.” Rosie buttoned up her coat. “Thank you for telling me.”

  She entered the blistering cold for her short walk home, thankful that it was helping to stop her rage from boiling over.

  In the Blush Realm, she sat cross-legged on the floor and tried to think. “Do you know anything about charms or spells?” She prodded Pixi.

  “Hm… well, I know that for you they’re fueled by your emotions, and the Realm is a reflection of your inner balance.”

  Rosie straightened. “Okay. Let’s try this: how am I feeling right now?”

  Pixiko beamed. She zoomed a few feet above her, and like a tiny, pixelated Vana White, she produced an Emotion Wheel that shimmered in the air.

  “Oh! Thank you, Pixi! Okay… I feel… angry, and… motivated… and cheeky!” She and Pixiko looked at each other and snickered.

  Pixiko settled. “Maybe anger’s not the best fuel, sugarbyte.”

  Rosie shrugged. “I mean, Tadhg said-”

  “Ugh.” Pixi interrupted.

  Rosie laughed lightly and went on. “Tadhg said our magic is fueled by our emotions, and right now I have a lot of them.” She looked at her hands and thought about the trails of light she had seen Tadhg draw in the air. “What if I…” She closed her eyes and focused on her arm and her fingertips. She grounded herself in this moment, and imagined the light trailing slowly from her hand… She opened her eyes, and sure enough, a sort of liquid light was trailing her hand as she moved it delicately through the air.

  “Rosie…” Pixiko warned, but Rosie gasped in disbelief.

  “Amazing!” She thought of something to hold, a sword for whatever reason, and the light rippled around itself, then stretched out, taking shape. She wrapped her hand around its hilt, and her arm jolted in a sharp pain. She shouted, her concentration breaking, and it all dissipated in an instant.

  Pixiko rushed in. “Sugarbyte! Are you okay!?”

  Rosie was staring at her palm, inspecting it, and a hand shot into her view from nowhere, grabbing her by the wrist. She was tugged and looked up in shock.

  “Tadhg?! What the fuck?”

  “Shut it.” He said curtly, and she fumed, but even as she seethed, he stared at her hand with such an intense focus it disarmed her. His eyes were darting, his face was set, and after a time, his eyes flicked up to hers, and she instantly blushed, pulling her hand out of his and holding it close. “Well, you’re fine.” He said, but he sounded angry. “Lucky.” He added. “And fine.”

  Rosie glowered at him. “Don’t get mad at me. If anything, this is your fault.”

  “My fault?” He growled, and Rosie's stomach dropped.

  “Well… you broke in here and told me what not to do, but didn’t give me much else to go on.”

  “What else do you want, little thorn? You wanted your puppy, and you got him.”

  “That’s not fair.

  “Why?”

  “Because… there’s more that I can do… So, I want to!”

  He looked down, and Rosie thought maybe she had convinced him. “More…” He murmured before looking at her again. “More power?” He stepped forward. “More long-distance boyfriends?” Rosie’s throat went tight, but he went on, stepping forward again. “Or more eyes drawn in.” His face and voice grew dark, “More worlds than you could ever imagine.” The warmth and soft light of the Blush Realm seemed to fade away, and Rosie felt chilled to the bone. “More monsters like me to break in here, simple as jumping into deep water.” Rosie heard some kind of horrid moan from behind her and spun to see nothing but darkness, and when she turned back, Tadhg was gone, but she heard his voice. “Mortals always want more, and if that’s what you go looking for, you’ll get it.” The darkness started to feel like it was pushing in, and Rosie started to panic. “You don’t know what you want…”

  She grasped her ribs and screamed, and when she opened her eyes, the darkness was gone, as was the cold, and Tadhg towered over her mercilessly.

  “You fucking prick.” Rosie worked hard not to cry.

  “I am.” He stated. “And there are worse things than me out there, so stop messing around with this stuff like it’s a game, got it?”

  She was too angry to speak, and he turned to leave. He drew shapes of light in the air again, but this time she watched him and did her best to memorise the patterns.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” She called out into the space he left behind.

  “I hate that guy,” Pixiko said suddenly.

  “Wait,” Rosie mused, “Were you hiding from him?”

  “Pfft,” Pixiko crossed her arms. “No.” She declared, but she wouldn’t look Rosie in the eyes.

  Rosie paced and thought. She was annoyed, but at least she had a new lead: Celtic spirals and knots.

  “Shimatta!” Souta burnt his hand on his toast, taking it out of the toaster too quickly, and dropped it on the floor.

  “Papa, no!” Hiro cried out, his false offence betrayed by his irrepressible smile.

  “G-gomen,” Souta said, cleaning up his mess. It was a pretty standard morning for him, so he was running late.

  “Papaaaaa!” Hiro shouted again. “Kenji ate my banana!”

  Kenji’s mouth quirked. “You gave it to me…”

  Hiro pushed his face in close. “And you ate it.” He said, smiling.

  Souta couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Hiro, sit down, please.” He placed their ochazuke down before zooming back to the kitchen.

  Hiro tilted his head. “Ehhh? You used to make banana toast with that sand powder stuff! What haaaappened?”

  “Otouto,” said Kenji gently.

  “I meant to, Hiro, “I didn’t get to it in time.” Then, like he restarted his own brain, “It’s Monday, Kenji. Did you take your blockers yesterday?”

  “Ah - no, I forgot. Sorry.” Kenji replied.

  “Ayaa, Kenji. Okay, well, I’m late, so you still have time. Hurry now.”

  He watched as Kenji dragged himself back to his room and shook his head, smiling. He was trying. Really trying. It just never felt like there was a moment to rest. Laundry, school forms, dishes crusting in the sink like guilt, new semester prep, and now, the world's leading expert in magic, leading because he was the only one, because if he told anyone, he’d lose his job.

  He turned to make lunch for the day - but the bento boxes weren’t where they should be. He closed the cabinet door just as Kenji was walking back to the table. “Wait, did you make lunch, Kenji?”

  “Mm-hm.” He replied gently, returning to his seat.

  Hiro started bouncing in his chair again. “Ooooh! I love your bentos Ken-nii!”

  Souta sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Kenji, that’s not your job, you know.” Then he looked at Hiro, who beamed back at him innocently. “Hiro-chan, if you need to run around, then go ahead, but don’t stand in your chair, okay?”

  Hiro nodded emphatically and sat back down.

  “We also have kendo today,” Kenji said, and Souta’s shoulders dropped.

  “UUUUUGH.” Exclaimed Hiro. “Kendo’s sooo boring!” He slid down in his chair.

  Souta laughed from the bottom of his ribs. “How can you love swords and not kendo?”

  “I do love swords! All we do in kendo is breathe. ‘In three, out of five.’” He said, imitating their teacher. “I know how to breathe! I breathe all day!” When Souta and Kenji both laughed, Hiro kept going. “I’m only seven! But they make us bow ten times! My back hurts!” Souta couldn't stop himself from grabbing Hiro and lifting him up in a riot of tickles, and Kenji watched them smiling. When he placed Hiro down, he ran off screaming.

  Souta's eyes stopped on his old copies of Nihon Mukashi Banashi and Nihon no Densetsu that he’d given to the boys, tucked into the shelf beside the TV. He took them out and held them fondly. They were worn from repeated reads, and he felt transported to younger days and sandy beaches just looking at them.

  “Your bento is in the fridge, otousan.” Kenji’s voice brought him back to the present, and Souta's heart froze and thawed all at once.

  They managed through the rest of the morning, and while Souta was hopping into his shoes and Hiro was telling them all about his grand plans for the day, Kenji stood in the doorway, swinging his bag, staring out into nothing. “Kenji? You okay?” Souta asked.

  Kenji swung his head towards his dad and nodded lethargically. Souta mussed his hair, and they headed into the day, and he watched them, Kenji’s long, thoughtful gait, swinging his bag at his side, and Hiro running in circles around him. Heart overflowing, he thought to himself, maybe I’m doing okay. Right as he had that thought, however, his neighbour's door opened.

  “Your boys woke me up again this morning!” They complained.

  “I’m very sorry,” Souta said while locking the door.

  Hiro zipped by them. “You need to learn to teach that one discipline.”

  “Thank you,” Souta said through a tense smile. “As always, I will give it a try.”

  “Don’t try it, just do it!” And they slammed the door.

  Souta sighed as they rode the elevator.

  “...I’m sorry, papa,” Hiro said meekly.

  “Don’t be.” He said. “We talked about this. Some people want to find things to blame for their unhappiness. You’re not being loud too early in the morning or too late at night”

  “Yeah,” Hiro said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  Souta picked him up suddenly. “After you climb the tree at lunch, what are you going to do?” He asked. Hiro laughed and resumed telling them his very full schedule.

  He walked with them to their school, then continued on to his train station.

  He stumbled through the lectures and yawned through research until it was lunch. Everything that used to fascinate him seemed so dull now in comparison to the world Rosie had introduced him to. The campus courtyard was quiet at midday, shaded by tall pine trees. Souta sat at a stone bench with his bento, carefully eating around the little bear happy face Kenji had made with soy sauce. Saki plopped down casually beside him, balancing a convenience store onigiri and a canned coffee.

  “Ugh, break is too short.” She said, then added quickly before Souta could speak. “I don’t want to hear about how you’re happy to be back, Sou-nii.” He just shrugged, and Saki watched him carefully. “So, how was New Year's?” She asked just before taking a knowing sip of coffee.

  He froze. “It… I…”

  “Oh wow.” Saki laughed. “Okay, who is she?”

  Souta went bright red. “Saki-chan…”

  “Oh, please. Someone from here?”

  “There’s no one. Okay?” He couldn’t look at her, and his ears went bright red.

  Saki hummed. “Juns’ going to set you up with someone soon.”

  “Oh gods.” He said. “Please protect me.

  “I’ve been protecting you, Sou-nii. I can only hold her off for so long." Souta's phone buzzed, and his face went soft in a way Saki was sure he thought she didn't notice. "I could probably hold her off for good if you tell me about this mystery person."

  "There really is no one." He said as assertively as he could, but Saki wasn't buying it, and his phone felt heavy in his pocket.

  More monsters than me… but why have you helped me twice now?

  “The trees are the same every day, Bagel, you got it easy, and I’m wiping you. Where’s your head at?”

  “Hmm? Pardon?” It took a moment for Rosie to zero back into the moment, and Hams was staring at her quizzically. “I got distracted. Did you get another point?”

  “Yeah, we passed a schnauzer.”

  “Oh, good one.”

  “Hmm.” She tilted her head. “Everything okay, bagel?”

  She sighed. “Mostly. I’ve been kind of… overwhelmed lately. But I’ll get through it.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Oh, you’re in love?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Aw!”

  “Hams!”

  “What? Oh, is that not it? It just seems like it. You're not just distracted, you’re all like,” and they made an exaggerated sigh while blinking excessively.

  “Oh my gosh!” But she blushed. “I.. no, well… That’s not what I was thinking about anyway.”

  “Mmhm.” Hams didn’t sound convinced.

  “...Poplar,” Rosie said with a coy smile.

  “Alright, Bagel, you’re on the board. Finally.”

  They arrived at the library. Rosie accumulated a small pile of books she thought might help her identify the symbols she’d seen Tadhg weave, found herself a computer near the wall, and set herself up. Hams did the same with some comics and manga and sat next to her.

  “Oh, are you a witch, bagel?”

  Rosie smiled and framed her face with her right hand, palm facing in. “Obviously.”

  Hams laughed. “What are we casting?”

  Rosie focused on the open book and then the scribbles of what she thought she saw Tadhg weave. “I’m not sure, actually, that’s kind of what I’m trying to figure out.” When she turned to face Hams again, she noticed the librarian at the desk behind them looked away suddenly. Rosie frowned, but Hams didn’t notice.

  “These ones are so pretty, I’ve always thought so.” Hams pointed to the page on Celtic spirals Rosie had open, and Rosie nodded.

  “Yeah, me too.” Rosie tried to split her attention between the potential monitoring situation and Hams. “You found the mangas you wanted?”

  “No, they won’t have the current issues here for a while, but I’m always happy to re-read!”

  The librarian seemed to be minding their own business, and Rosie smiled genuinely. “Love that. Okay, I’m gonna focus on my witchcraft.” She said, wiggling her fingers.

  “And I’m gonna focus on my stories.”

  From what Rosie could figure, he was drawing a double spiral, which seemed to have to do with energy transference. Teleportation maybe? She thought to herself, just as Hams laughed next to her. Rosie darted her eyes to the librarian, who was looking over with a wrinkled brow. Rosie felt the urge to say something rise, but she swallowed it. She still didn’t know what the second symbol she’d seen him draw was, so she tried to focus on that, but nothing was coming up in the books she’d chosen this time. Still, she checked out the ones that had information about spirals, shared a hot beverage with Hams on the way home, and placed the books in front of the altar she had set up after her awakening. She took in her idols, Brighid, Nuada, Caileac, and the Dagda, and took a deep breath.

  “I won’t be intimidated away from this again.” She said with resolve.

  “So, you wrote about this spear, but it’s part of an Irish legend, right? The only surviving mention of the Spear are from the Second battle of Mag Tuired, and after that it seems not to appear in any narratives again, but was maybe thought to have been conflated with the Spear of Assal and Lúin of Celtchar." He looked up at her, and she looked impressed but a little confused. “Since we know the sídhe are real now, I thought it might be, too, so I’ve been focusing on that.”

  Rosie nodded. “I thought that too! So, after Ziggy Maedhros left, I dove back into some of my old books. The Spear is one of the Four Treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann. I chose the spear just because it was said to never miss its mark.”

  “Right,” he said, suppressing a smile. “So there’s also a stone that decides if people are worthy rulers, a cauldron that never goes empty, and a sword that has to kill when unsheathed. Which is… intense.”

  Rosie looked at him. “Right? The guy who wielded it, though, Nuada, he seems like the kind of guy you’d trust with a murder-sword.” Souta sputtered a laugh, and Rosie felt triumphant. “Okay, so that’s the Spear itself. Then there’s Lú; from what I’ve read, he’s kind of like… um… who was the Valar that wasn’t part of building Arda, but came in later, and Melkor was like, super scared of him?”

  “Tulkas,” Souta said, beaming.

  “Yeah, yeah! Lú reminds me of Tulkas; he’s not part of the original pantheon, but he shows up to the Threshold at, um,” Rosie scoured through the notes, “‘Kuh-nock-na, Team, Ratch’,er, rack probably.” She couldn’t help but smile, and she could feel Souta smiling, too. She turned the book to him.

  “Krouk Na Chaooda”, He said.

  Rosie was as turned on as she was annoyed. “Oh my gods, how!?”

  He smiled bashfully. “I’ve been getting pretty into the Irish stuff.”

  “Excuse you!” She got up and sat herself in his lap, putting her arms around his neck. “I’ve been into the Irish stuff for like, my whole life, and I can’t read it.”

  He said it plainly, without bragging. “I studied historical linguistics in undergrad. Focused on phonology.”

  “You said words, but you explained nothing.”

  “I know how words sound.”

  “Better. Anyways, ‘The Hill of Tara’ in English. Let’s just call it that.” She turned around and leaned into him, and he looked at her notes with his head on her shoulder. “So anyways, Lú goes to the Threshold of the Gods and is like, ‘let me join, I can do basically everything,’ and they’re like, ‘prove it,’ and he does all these different trials specific to the other gods and beats them all, so he gets to join.” She took a breath and looked at Souta, who looked like he was about to burst. “What?” She asked, draping her pink hair across her face as if it might hide her.

  “Nothing.” He said, but exhaled wistfully. Then he leaned back again, and his eyes drifted, seemingly in a daze. “I wonder if Tír na nóg exists in the same place as Ryūgū-jō, or if maybe they’re one and the same place.”

  “Oh! The Dragon Palace?”

  “Yeah! I mean, if one is real, the other could be as well. Same as the sídhe and kami.” Then he sat upright out of nowhere.

  Rosie turned and watched him. His face was still as he worked through something. It was hilarious and adorable to watch.

  Eventually, he looked at her with an expression she hadn’t seen yet. “I could write a paper on that. If I write about it, I can call it work.”

  “Oh!” Rosie sat up on her knees and clapped. “That’s so good!” He opened his hand towards her, looking at her notebook, and she handed it to him, timidly. She couldn’t handle watching him pore over her notes, face drawn in all thinky, so she rambled through the silence. “The Hill of Tara is a real place in Ireland! I wonder if we could still cross over to Tír na nóg there.”

  Pixiko chimed in. “The connections to the Otherworld, or what you two are calling Kai 2, have been broken for about a hundred years.”

  Souta spoke without looking up at first. “But, would you go, if you could?”” When he did look at her, his eyes were concerned.

  Rosie was confused. “Would I go to Tír na nóg? Um, yes.”

  He shifted as if physically uncomfortable. “Some of these myths are pretty,” he paused before looking back at her, “‘yaba.’”

  She looked at him patiently, but he was hesitant. “Souta.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Take this one: The Curse of Macha. She was a goddess, a sovereign figure. Then a king made her race horses while she was pregnant, because her husband bragged about her.”

  “She won.” Said Rosie.

  “And gave birth on the finish line in agony,” Souta said as gently as something like that could be said.

  Rosie crawled up beside him to look at the book; “And then she cursed every man in Ulster to feel labour pains whenever they were needed most’. That’s badass”

  “Yeah,” he started, but didn't finish.

  She lay her head on his chest and looked up at him in a way that exaggerated her already doe eyes. “Penny for your thought, School.” She said, smiling.

  His smile was forced, and he didn't look at her. “As a myth, as a literary device, yeah, it's bad ass, but as reality, it's just sad.” Rosie fell silent. “They took her body and turned her pain into power. The curse came after no one heard her suffering.” He exhaled heavily, took her hands and kissed them softly.

  She thought about the spirals she had been studying and considered telling Souta, but she decided not to. Instead, she kept trying to deflect. “The Curse of Macha?” He recognised the tone, and he looked at her with dread as he awaited the follow-up. “More like, The Curse of Ma-do-cha,” His face dropped. She added, “Amirite?!”

  “You are! That’s why I don’t enjoy that show! She’s used! Sacrificed!”

  “I can’t do this again, Souta.”

  “You brought it up, bara-chan!” He was smiling when he took her hands and kissed them softly, but the smile faded quickly as he exhaled heavily. “I just worry I already worry about you in that neighbourhood, now Ziggy Maedhros is breaking into your kai.”

  Rosie tried to tease the issue away. “Jealous?”

  He dropped his face unamused. “You know I don’t care about that.”

  “Yeah. Thank you, Nijiiro!” She smiled but then looked at Souta expectantly. “Did I say it right?”

  “You did not. Stop trying to change the subject. I’m not jealous; I’m worried. Just don’t let your guard down. The shee, kami, yokai, spirits, they’re unknowable. I’m not saying Ziggy Maedhros is bad, I’m just saying, he’s not human.”

  That gave her pause. “Well, so far he just, like, teased me into using my powers better. Very sídhe like.”

  Souta was pensive. “For now, anyway.”

  Rosie squeezed his hands gently, and he looked at her with shining eyes. She felt winded, and she didn’t mean to, but she leaned slightly towards him. Souta grazed her wrist with his thumb just as their noses touched.

  They kissed slowly, timidly, then again, and Rosie felt like she was falling and soaring… but she could feel something, something underneath the butterflies, something reaching, and it went against her intuition, but she zeroed in on it, and she felt him. She didn’t just feel his skin on hers and the warmth of his breath, but she felt his emotions, his thoughts. She felt his passion dimmed by guilt, the weights he carried day in and day out, the pain, the resolve to continue; it was beautiful, and it was awful. Souta cupped her face with a trembling hand, and Rosie knew she shouldn’t, but she pressed deeper, into memories that she had no right to see. A figure waving from a hospital window, a shrine, a fist against a wall…

  Suddenly, Rosie shot herself back like she’d been hit by a winter wind, away from his body, and out of his mind. Souta scrambled towards her, concerned.

  “Hey, hey, bara-chan, doushita no? What’s wrong?” His hand hovered above her knee. She took in his face, his genuine concern made her feel sick to her stomach, and she plastered on a smile with practised ease.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, “I just got dizzy for a second.” She kissed him desperately, for a moment, he kissed her back, but slowly he pulled away, and put his forehead to hers.

  “Bara-chan,” he said so tenderly that it hurt her. “It’s okay.” He could see something was wrong; he had been able to read that particular fake smile of hers since before their first meeting.

  Rosie wanted to protest; everything inside her was screaming against sitting in stillness with what she had just done, in the trusting arms of the person she’d done it to, but Souta was already pulling her in and wrapping his arms around her. “Maybe we’ve been pushing too much.” He said eventually, and she looked at him, confused and hurt. “You’ve been dealt a lot, bara-chan, the magic, on top of everything you were already dealing with. Maybe we’ve gotten caught up in it, and we just need to slow down a bit.”

  Rosie knew he was talking about the magic, but for some reason it landed somewhere painful that she couldn’t name. She nodded against him, pushing herself into him, and he squeezed her.

  When he smiled at each other as the mists took him home.

  Then, before Rosie could have even a moment to recover…

  “Ugh, so clingy. I thought he’d never leave.”

  Rosie's blood turned to fumes, and she spun around to find Tadhg sprawled across the space she had just shared like he’d been there the whole time, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Seriously,” he went on, “if he held you any tighter you’d have died in his arms.” He said, rolling his head back and placing a hand on his forehead dramatically. He looked back at her and smirked. “And you’d love it.”

  “You again!”

  “Me again!” He said, delighted with himself. “You’re leaking magic all over the place, little thorn, that’s dangerous.” Then, with an exaggerated tone of concern, he added. “Somebody might get hurt.”

  Rosie tried to stay strong. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No?” Said Tadhg. “I could've sworn I just felt some very interesting waves. It’s no small thing, you know, peering inside someone's head.” His face darkened at the word, and she felt fear crawl up her spine. In a flash, it was gone, and Tadhg looked almost bored.

  “...I didn’t mean-”

  He cut her off with a lazy wave of the hand. “Intent’s cute,” he said, “doesn’t change the outcome though, does it?”

  She was silent because he was right.

  He looked at her for a moment before rising with a maddening grace. He sauntered towards her, head held high, hands in pockets. As he approached, Rosie braced herself, and then he walked right past her.

  Rosie didn’t mean to, but she turned to watch him as he did, and without fanfare, he opened up a portal, gesturing to her like a gentleman at the door to a ballroom, one hand still in his pocket. “After you.” He said.

  The portal smelled like ozone, its edges stuttered with glitchlight and wild sigils. She hesitated, and Tadhg continued, “Are you coming, little thorn? Or are you just going to stand there pretending you’re not curious?”

  She took a step forward, cautiously, and he watched her every step with a stillness and patience that was impossible to read. Just as she stood at the threshold, she turned to him. “If you hurt me,” she said, “I will figure out how to hurt you back.”

  He straightened. “Ooh, I love that.” He said and followed her into the portal.

  They took one step, and the world seemed to fold around them. Rosie stumbled, filled with vertigo, and Tadhg stood, still, motionless behind her. She felt the familiar pressure drop, and when she collected herself enough to take in her surroundings, she was utterly spellbound.

  Ancient trees towering into nebulous clouds of red and gold, roots veined with glitchlight. The air was crisp but warm like the early days of autumn still entwined with summer. Underfoot, the ground was soft and warm, not exactly things that made her think of Tadhg, and when she looked down, she saw moss the colour of emeralds. It was amazing.

  Tadhg had already started walking ahead as Rosie took in his Realm. “I’ll walk.” He said. “You follow. Or don’t.” And he disappeared between the massive trees.

  “Fuck.” Rosie muttered to herself before trailing after him.

  He led her to a glade glowing with a surreal bioluminescent blue. Tadhg was already kneeling by a stream, and when she emerged from the brush he said nothing, but gestured with a subtle nod of the head for her to join him. He looked different, and Rosie realized unlike the first time he broke into her life, he didn’t look like a threat. He looked like a statue carved from quiet.

  He gave her a stone from the stream and they used it as a grounding focus. He taught her how to expell excess magic into it and then cleanse the stone.

  “Why did you show me that?” She asked.

  “You need to be more careful.” He replied, eyes unmoving.

  Rosie didn’t know how to reconcile this Tadhg with the person who arrived unannounced to play mind games with her, and before she could take him in, he stood.

  “Come on, little thorn,, he said, stretching lazily, bare chest shining in the light. “Time to go home.” He waved, and a new portal formed.

  Rosie was overwhelmed with confusion and gratitude. She stepped into the portal and turned.

  Just before it took her back to the Blush Realm, his expression grew wicked, and he smirked at her.

  “By the way,” he mused, “you’re much more interesting when you lie to him.”

  “Oh, you piece of-” and the portal snapped shut between them.

  Tadhg was mid-scream when he materialised in Gorias.

  The smell of roses faded behind him, but the worry didn’t. He let go of a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and ran his hands across his face.

  There was no roof, and the circular stone wall housed a few different doorways throughout. There was greenery everywhere, pushing through every little crack, including a beautiful, enormous, gnarled tree close to the far wall. To his right was an enclosed area with a table and seating, with pillows scattered about, and colourful fabrics draped across the table and down from the latticework.

  “Wow!” Came a voice like gentle thunder. “Good one!” Tadhg glared. “I’m serious! What’s wrong, though?”

  “Nothing,” Tadhg answered sharply, shoving his hands in his pockets and storming off all in one.

  “‘Nothing’ is making you angry.” A second voice called after him, quieter and somehow firmer, but he was already through the archway and walking down the hall; he wasn’t going anywhere, just riding the momentum of too many emotions.

  “Wuh oh.” He had wandered into the library, and a figure was sitting on the couch, one leg dangling, keen but puffy red eyes peering out from between enormous headphones. They dropped their book and put their hands in their hoodie pockets. It always gave Tadhg a little pang in the heart how much that posture was both guarded like himself, but brave enough not to hide it behind arrogance… unlike himself. “You’re all stormy.”

  Tadhg just grunted and sat in a chair across from them. Tadhg's gaze was set forward, while blue-green eyes peered at him incessantly. “Just read the memory, Niennon.” He didn’t need to look to know Niennon was shaking their head in a near cartoonish full-body motion. Tadhg smiled despite himself. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He said reluctantly.

  “Yeah.” Their voice was so gentle. “I’m picking up on that.” Tadhg laughed, a little puff that caused his shoulders to rise and fall quickly. “You’ve got diviner energy all over, again.” Niennon grabbed at the air around Tadhg like he was pulling away invisible cobwebs.

  “I told you I can’t really help it.” Tadhg admitted.

  “Right. The poem.” They nodded slowly. “You got caught between a mortal passing a ‘do you like me’ note to the opposite side of the planet.” They said it flatly and waited for Tadhg to look over before adding. “I forgot.” They hadn’t.

  Tadhg rolled his eyes to hide the lump in his throat.

  “That’s not why I called it out, though.” They waited, but Tadhg just clenched his jaw. “Did something happen, again? Cause, you’re the only one who can really help.” Niennon didn’t have to read Tadhg to know the answer was yes. “So, why are you here? You’re not gonna help?”

  “I did.” Tadhg was tired.

  “Oh!" They smiled. "So, why are you all stormy?”

  “Because I don’t know what I’m doing!”

  “...Oh.” They said again. Niennon took their hoodie strings and began to brush the ends together, their eyes intensely focused on the movement. “I thought you were all Mr. Romance or whatever.” They asked sincerely.

  “Romance and… romance can be a performance. I can handle the performance.” When he looked at Niennon, they had stopped fidgeting and were looking at Tadhg with mischief. “...What?” He said nervously.

  They said it with a tone that travelled up and down. “Are you in looooove?!”

  Tadhg didn’t respond, which was rare… but he was fighting a smile, and Niennon beamed through quiet tears.

  Rosie had seemed boring to Tadhg at first, simple, building an entire Realm for one songless bird. He’d known mortals who wielded magic like a roaring flame, and the first magic-touched mortal in living memory… Was this delicate, flickering candle? It made Tadhg scoff.

  …Until the candle drew him in, again, and again, with its gentle warmth instead of searing heat.

  It was quiet. Tadhg thought they had moved on. “So…” Niennon added eventually, and Tadhg dropped his shoulders. “What happened?”

  He was exasperated. “I felt her flare again, so I checked, and she was…” He stopped and looked at Niennon, hoping they would piece it together. They stared at him, eyes shining with tears as ever. “Danu sábháil mé. Will you just read it?”

  Niennon pulled their hoodie strings and hummed a negative.

  Tadhg shook his head. “You’re the worst Diviner.”

  Niennon cocked their head. “I thought you weren’t going to check her feed after the name thing.”

  Tadhg's blood burned at the memory.

  ?He had resisted checking the feed for a week, but something he couldn't ignore called to him that day. He heard the poem. Rosie’s words, spoken from Souta's mouth. He watched Souta blush, and Rosie swoon… while he crumbled. He had just recovered from hearing it when Souta called her Natchi. Tadhg had howled at the slip like he was watching a reality show, until Rosie… held his face and told him with her whole heart:

  “Don’t you ever forget her, Souta. Especially not for me. Please.”

  Who fucking does that? He thought.

  “So, why’d you check this time?” Niennon was lying on the floor now, feet wobbling back and forth.

  Tadhg was not looking forward to how Niennon would take this. “I sensed her do an accidental reading.”

  Niennon stilled for a moment before shooting upright and turning to look at Tadhg. “That’s not cool.” They said, silent tears streaming down their face.

  “I know.” Tadhg exhaled. “It’s my fault, though.”

  “How?” They stared at Tadhg, waiting for more, and when Tadhg remained silent, they hummed. “Mhmmmmmm?”

  “I… didn’t teach her to ground.”

  Niennon tucked their knees into their hoodie. “That’s really not cool.”

  “I know! Okay? I taught her now, though, so it should be fine.” Tadhg stood suddenly and walked nowhere.

  Niennon lay back down. “You’re being all weird. You’re not usually this weird. You’re usually a different weird. This is like a heady weird, and it’s all…” They waved their hands frantically in front of them.

  Tadhg couldn’t help but really laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

  “Random thought, but have you tried not being a jerk yet?” Niennon said earnestly. “'Cause I see you all jerk-like with everyone but me, and maybe that’s why people think you are one.” Tadhg smiled, but it faltered quickly, as a pain bloomed beneath the space she took up inside him.