Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sniff. Everything ached. Luz ached. 

A cold sweat covered her entire body. The sheets clung uncomfortably to her overheated skin. Luz was miserable. She’d kick them off, let the chill in the air cool her skin, and then fumble to pull them back around her when the shivers racked her thin frame. Rinse and repeat. Hours of the same motions. She was so tired. But sleep, unsurprisingly, abandoned her tonight. 

Sniff. Cough. 

Her head felt heavy as it limply lolled to the side; her eyes blankly staring at the dark screen of her phone on the nightstand. She reached over and hit the home icon. Nothing. Not a single sign of life. Dead . Unsurprisingly, again . She hit it again -hoping beyond hope that something would change this time but disappointed all the same when nothing happens- sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. I’m sorry, mami. Lo siento, no pude estar allí.

Sniff. 

Luz slowly sat up in bed. A dull throb was slowly building like waves in her head, which meant she needed to get up. Hydration, yes. Mami always said to stay hydrated when you’re sick. Drink lots of water. Take the prescribed amount of medicine. She twisted to set her feet on the floor and prop her elbows on her thighs, her head bent and held by the palms of her hands. They shook under the weight. Her body screamed to stay down. 

Sniff. The floor was ice beneath her bare feet, and she just sat there in wretched defeat, the telltale sting of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her mouth moved but failed to voice any of the words clogged in the back of her throat. Mami ? 

She wanted to scream. But only muffled noises bypassed her dried, chapped lips. Mami, por favor, ayúdame!

Luz was running on pure instinct now. Find comfort. Find mami .

//

Sniff.

Lilith awoke reluctantly and hot.

The fog of unconsciousness began to fade slowly, and with it a single eye blinked open with sleepy effort, vision blurring in and out of focus. It was still quite dark in the room, the older woman observed. The only light came from the scattered rays of moonlight from the window. At least, until she noticed the single ball of light that hovered on its own over her bed. Wha -

Ugh, no. She immediately dismissed the light spell, dreading having to think on why it was there in the first place. 

What was important -to her, at least- was the heat bearing down on her between her shoulder blades. It was hot and heavy and Lilith wanted it off. 

When she tried to roll off of her stomach, her hands braced under her chest to lift herself up, a sudden whine cut through the silence of the darkened room. She froze midway up. More startlingly, the dead weight pinning her body down to the bed moved with her. Clinging tighter to her. 

Sniff. 

Entire body stiff as a statue, a myriad of thoughts ran unfiltered through her mind. King? Impossible. She dismissed that option instantly. The little demon always slept with the human at night, curled up at the end of her bed. Edalyn? Most likely. Her little sister loved throwing herself across Lilith’s back when they were kids, demanding Lilith spend less time buried in her books and more on her latest prank. It certainly followed her into her adult years, especially when she knows Lilith hadn’t slept well the night before. ("You can sleep when you’re dead, sis. We’ve got work to do.”)

Wait. She recalled her sister wasn’t even meant to be home until morning. One of her sister’s suppliers had mentioned a seller who might have concocted a stronger elixir to contain their curse somewhere in the Night Market and left earlier this evening with the little demon. Which leaves me with -

Sniff. “Lily ?”

Oh.  

It was Luz. 

It came to her with startling clarity. The human was lying on her side upon Lilith’s back, one of her hands clutched desperately to Lilith’s hip; short nails digging into her skin through both her nightshirt and sheets due to the older woman’s attempt to dislodge her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed the other hand held the girl’s own blanket against her heaving chest. Her face was buried between the woman’s shoulder blades, her hairline drenched in sweat. The source of the unbearable heat, she thought absentmindedly. 

“What’s wrong?” The older woman asked, smokey and sluggish. After all, it wasn’t like the human to come to her in the middle of the night. 

Well, almost. 

The girl made a non-committal noise. She moved her face away from between Lilith’s shoulders, inched up toward her neck, and reburied herself in the crook between her shoulder and neck, a little hum slipping past her lips as she settled down in her new spot. Utterly content to sniffle her little heart out right there it seemed. 

Lilith, on the other hand, was lost. Still.

Unaccustomed to affection, at least not with anyone who isn’t her sister, Lilith had little notion as to what the right move would be with the human. Luz isn’t Edalyn, and her interactions with the human were still awkward, even two years after the incident which resulted in Lilith living in the same house as the girl. 

She’s tried. Still trying. 

She’d argue they’re better at communication when the others aren’t around. Like late night conversations when sleep eludes them both. Like the occasional help with homework (Bump assured Edalyn that Luz would be safe at Hexside, not that fear and guilt didn’t still gnaw away in Lilith’s chest every time the girl leaves the house). Like trying to understand a certain stare Luz levels her way when she thinks the older woman doesn’t notice.  

But this. Lilith isn’t prepared for this. 

The trembling of her hands breaks her train of thought and reminds her she’s still halfway holding herself up. She lowered back down to rest on her elbows, her hands slipping back under her pillow. She kept her head held up as she plotted her next move. 

Luz was a dead weight on her back, murmuring incomprehensible words right  into the woman’s ear. Completely oblivious to the current panic Lilith was experiencing because of her. Breathe. Use your words, Lilith. If the human is broken, it shouldn’t be impossible to fix her. Because she knew something was wrong. She just didn’t know what.

“Luz,” she cooed softly, rolling the shoulder the human was resting on to get her attention, “you need to wake up for me.”

No helpful response. Just a soft mewl. Cute. But not cute enough.

A deadpanned, “I will roll you onto the floor if you do not get off of me,” drew some movement out of the girl. Finally . Although, to Lilith’s utter horror, it resulted in Luz shifting closer instead of away, her lithe frame twisting to rest her front on Lilith’s back and shove both her arms under the woman’s arms to settle them underneath her pillow, sweat slicked fingertips encircling Lilith’s wrists. 

She settled into her new position like she belonged there. 

Sniff.  “No lo harás ,” came the soft response in her ear. If she hadn’t been so focused on the scratchy cadence of Luz’s usually smooth timbre, she might have picked up on the smugness dripping from the girl’s words. She knew damn well Lilith wouldn’t let any harm come to her, lest she wanted to be on the receiving end of her sister’s wrath. Which she didn’t, mind you.

Lilith closed her eyes briefly, trying again. “It’s fairly clear you are unwell,” she coaxed, gently. “And I can’t help you if you don’t let me up.”

“No quiero .”

For a long moment, Lilith just sat there and blinked, contemplating if it was even worth the effort to forcefully remove the girl from her. Luz seemed content to lie there, and Lilith was exhausted. And with that, Lilith pronounced, “You’re not moving, are you?”

“No. Eres tan blando.”

Lilith scoffed. “I am not soft.”

She wasn’t. Not even when she resigned herself as the human’s body pillow, sleep already drawing her back in like a siren’s song. She wasn’t soft when Luz clasped their hands under the pillow, a happy sigh slipping past her sleeping lips as she nuzzles her new favorite spot in the crook of Lilith’s shoulder and neck. 

She wasn’t soft. Just accommodating. 

The heat radiating off of Luz’s skin was still concerning to Lilith. Before sleep claimed her, she made a mental note to check on the girl when she awakes again. But, for now, she’d leave Luz be. 

Chapter Text

“How do you bottle daydreams?”

“You don’t.”

“Oh.” A pause, the sound of teeth gnawing on the end of plastic breaking the silence before an inquiry followed. “Then how come the text says ‘add four drops of bottled daydreams to your mixture’?”

“Ah, it’s referring to the Dayem plant. Known to cause wicked hallucinations to anyone who ingests it raw. It’s mostly used as a stabilizer for memory remedies than anything else these days.”

“Wowzers, that sounds super cool. But why do they call it daydreams if it’s a plant? How do you bottle it? Oh, what does it do if you cook it then eat it?”

“Ask Edalyn. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to tell you all about it.”

Amity is speechless. Her golden eyes are wide; head cocked to the side at the spectacle in front of her.

Luz is seated on the floor in the space between the low table and the couch. Her legs are splayed out under the table, feet in constant motion to some tune only the teen can hear; occasionally bumping into Amity’s knee from where she’s seated, cross-legged, on the other side. A pen situates itself between her lips when she’s in thought and jotting down odd scribbles in her notebook. Little cartoon drawings appear at the edges of her notes. Adorable.

The girl has three textbooks open on the table, the ‘Advanced Potions’ her main fixation at the second. Herbology II and Abomination Theoretics, one of the reasons Amity’s there in the first place, are awaiting her attention. Amity tapped her own book in thought with her pen. Her carefully detailed notes tucked away under her other assignments; awaiting for Luz’s curiosity to be drawn back to their shared class assignment.

Amity doesn’t find it odd -well, not anymore- how curious Luz is of their world, even now, of how she can craft a whole conversation on a topic so mundane to the residents of the Boiling Isles but so fascinating to her. The young witchling finds it endearing and it brightens her whole day to see Luz’s smile light up a room. To hear her laugh. Well, she just likes everything about Luz.

It’s Lilith she finds odd. Wrong.

Her hand clenched tighter around her pen at the thought of the monster.

The older woman is seated on the couch behind Luz with her legs tucked under her, an unidentifiable book Luz handed to her when Amity walked in flipped open on the armrest. Amity’s certain her heterochromatic eyes haven’t lifted from the book she was paging through since the study session began, even when Luz started to use her black legging-clad knees as a pillow to gawk up at her in her endeavor to ask a million questions in one breath. To the monster. Instead of her friend.

It’s strange.

Amity was once Lilith’s apprentice. Cold and unyielding. That’s the Lilith she knew. Never physically affectionate. Or even emotionally. A word of praise was rare from the distant woman, and Amity really thought that was all Lilith was capable of. But.

But here’s Luz, being Luz, her smile bright enough to rival the sun, drawing out a side of Lilith she’s uncertain the older woman herself knew she was capable of. Uncomfortable, yes. That was clear to see in the furrow of her brow. But unmistakably enjoying the girl’s attention in the subtle lift at the edges of her lips. I mean, who wouldn’t? Luz has her own gravitational pull, for Titan’s sakes. She’s always drawing in those around her.

Pen set aside, Amity scratched the inside of her wrist with her nails. She couldn’t wrap her head around the way Luz functions. Lilith cursed her own sister, almost killed Luz to capture Eda, and for what? Her position? Atonement? Yes, it’s been two years, but Amity can’t understand how she could forgive someone so easily. Sometimes, very rarely, she can see something in Eda’s eyes when she looks at her older sister, like rage and loneliness meshing into one. Lilith sees it, too. Does Luz?

The young witchling really misses when Luz and Lilith’s interactions were stilted and awkward. That she could work with. Preferred it even.

She couldn’t put it into words when that changed. Like, overnight they suddenly understood each other. Could breathe comfortably in the same room. Luz was smiling up at Lilith like she didn’t toss her off a bridge to her untimely death. Trust so clear in her mahogany eyes. Why does Lilith think she deserves to be in Luz’s presence? Why does Luz bother with trusting a monster?

She’s asked. A hundred times. Trying to wrap her head around it.

(It was late, the only sound for a long time was the chirping of the crickets in the forest. Amity sat stiff on a fallen log beside the very person she thought she was going to lose forever. Luz was eerily quiet, most likely mulling over how to explain why she’s fine with a monster living under the same roof as her.

Then Luz spoke, and Amity hated the words being breathed to life.

“People do bad things, Amity.” Luz whispers, her eyes conveying a secret she’ll never tell. “And what Lilith did was pretty terrible, I know. But she’s trying, and if you don’t give someone the chance to prove themselves, how will they ever learn to be better?”

Amity practically felt the venom dripping from her words. It frightened her how much she sounded like her mother. “What has she even done to earn this chance? You’re too trusting, Luz. She’ll take advantage of that!” She quiets, reins herself in; her voice softening to convey her point. “You have to see that.” She just wants to protect Luz from harm. Because she couldn’t before.

Luz’s smile is heart wrenching to Amity. “I trust her, Amity.” She glances back at the house through the trees. When Amity follows her gaze, she can see Eda standing in the opened doorway; waiting for her apprentice to return, she assumes. A movement beside her draws her attention back. Luz is holding her hand out, palm facing up; her eyes locked on Amity’s. “Do you trust me?”

Gold eyes affix on the offer before looking away. A sigh. A decision to be made.

Amity clasps her hand. “I trust you.” She stands up, still holding onto Luz’s hand. She figures if they remain any longer Eda will come drag her apprentice back into the house herself. “I don’t trust your judgement, though.”

The girl laughs. “Good enough for me.”

Nothing Luz ever says will change her mind about Lilith. She was all too familiar with what those closest to you are capable of.)

She still thinks Luz is too forgiving. But it’s Luz; she wouldn’t change her for the world. She won’t bring it up anymore. However, that doesn’t mean she won’t watch Lilith like a hawk. She’ll be there to protect Luz this time when Lilith reveals her true colors. You won’t hurt her again. I won’t let you.

Luz barks a laugh; that soft, melodic laughter that never failed to ignite a blush on the young witchling’s cheeks - that eases the burden of the Blight family name off her shoulders just long enough for her to breathe as Amity. It draws her attention away from her thoughts. Except, this time, instead of warm cheeks and freedom, a tightness in her chest steals her breath as she watches Luz turn her upper body around to drape herself across Lilith’s lap. She’s rambling about potions and why do they need to be so endlessly complicated.

All Amity hears is a ringing in her ears. Why?

There’s something else bothering Amity about their relationship. An emotion so real it claws at Amity’s insecurities in the late hours of the night.

It’s all hypothetical, really. She can’t prove it. But she’s noticed a pattern with Luz and Lilith. Like, there are days when Lilith wears her glasses -it took Amity weeks to adjust to the sight of her former mentor in them- and lets her hair remain in its natural state of curls (“Ha, you kids should’ve seen it when we were your age. It was like a cloud. So puffy!”) On those same days, Luz’s optimistic and sunny disposition is muted, unmistakably there but weighed down by a burden she won’t address to anyone.

She’s closer to Lilith on those days, too.

Oh, and the look Luz levels Lilith’s way. Amity knows it well, because it’s how she looks at Luz. All warm adoration and unwavering devotion. It can’t mean what she thinks it means. And, unreadable as ever, Lilith doesn’t reveal if she’s caught on to Luz’s feelings, or if she even reciprocates them. All Amity catches is quiet admiration and endless exasperation toward Luz’s ability to find trouble anywhere she goes. (“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Edalyn raised you from infancy. You both have a penchant for trouble.”)

The only measure of relief- which, mind you, is very small- the young witchling has is Eda doesn’t seem overly concerned about it. The younger of the two Clawthorne sisters likes to paw at her elder sister’s hair on those horrifying days, commenting on how cute she finds Lilith with her natural curls. All the while Lilith grumbles at her sister and Luz stares. Something in her eyes that Amity physically feels, like a knife burrowing between her ribs.

A tap on her knee reels her out of her thoughts and onto the concerned expression on Luz’s face. She’s no longer draped over Lilith. Thankfully. “You okay, Amity?” She asks, gently. Another tap on her knee and it’s revealed to be Luz’s foot.

Amity didn’t know how to respond for a moment, her hands falling into her lap and clenching into fists. Then she said, stiltedly, “I’m fine, thank you. Have you finished your Potions assignment yet? It’s due this week, right?” Ever the diligent friend she would be. I hate it. I love it, but I hate it.

“Ugh,” Luz groaned, her head falling back onto Lilith’s knees. Please, no. “Nooo. Why does potion making have to be tan jodidamente duro?”

“Language,” Admonishes Lilith. “And it’s ‘difficult’,” Of course there’s quotations on the word, because there’s no way a potions master thought the track was in any shape or form difficult. “Because potions require skill and concentration. You must be able to break apart the potions recipe to its most miniscule detail.” She closes her book and finally looks at the two teenagers. “Let me see your assignment. I hardly doubt it’s as complicated as you make it out to be.”

Luz, with a blossoming smile on her face (it almost seemed like she had been waiting for that exact moment), hands Lilith her worksheet and goes back to her other studies, scribbling her odd letters on her notebook without a care in the world. Like the enemy isn’t sitting right behind her. She keeps her head against Lilith’s knees, occasionally glancing up to see if the older woman was ready to explain how best to go about her assignment. Why couldn’t I have been assigned to the potions track?

Amity hated it.

Eda chose that exact moment to stroll into the living room, her roguish grin slipping from her lips as she grimaces at the textbooks on her low table. “I will not get used to seeing those in my house.” She shudders, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch and into her sister’s personal space, fingers already inching up to Lilith’s hair (to Amity, it just seemed Eda had an odd fascination with her sister’s hair, curly or not). “How’s the homework going, kid?”

Luz dramatically scrubs her face with her hands; her eyelids briefly pull downward. Amity winces at the sight of it. “Potions are hard.” She whines, her head bending further back to make eye contact with her mentor.

The gray haired witch snorted in amusement, her nails gently scraping her sister’s scalp at the back of her neck. “Eh, Lily will have you a master in no time. She was always better at that kind of stuff.” If Eda knew Lilith was slowly leaning into the touch, she made no comment on it. “You know, she once corrected our professor in front of the whole class? He was livid.” She cackled.

Lilith smiles, a bare twitch of the lips. “I also recall getting a week of detention because you couldn’t stop laughing. And then another week because of some deplorable prank you pulled on him.”

“Hey,” the younger Clawthorne defended, nails briefly ceasing their motion -if Amity hadn’t been focused on them, she might have missed the near whine Lilith almost slipped out if she hadn’t clenched her jaw in the nick of time. “No one calls my sister a liar. It was my sworn duty to defend your honor. By obliterating his, obviously.”

“Wait,” Luz interrupted, her already-wide eyes growing ever wider. She twisted back into the position Amity hated: her upper body draped over Lilith. “What did you do?”

Eda puffed up in pride. “Simple. I-”

“Don’t you dare, Edalyn Clawthorne.” The elder Clawthorne warned.

“Spoilsport.”

Lilith sighs softly through her nose. Something Amity can’t decipher passes over her features, and with an ease one expects from a former coven leader, steers the conversation back to the matter at hand: Luz’s potion assignment. “Your problem is a simple one,” she explains, her fingers tracing over the words on the paper. “You don’t know the ingredients for the memory potion, and since you didn’t grow up in the Boiling Isles, many of our flora’s names you wouldn’t recognize, let alone know what their specialties are in potion making. I’d start there if I were you. Learn the flora, what they’re properties are, and then attempt the potion.”

Luz beams, flashing her teeth in a dazzling grin, seemingly undeterred by the extra work she would need to do to finish her assignment. The paper is returned to the Latina and she slips it back in her potions textbook; closing it with a soft thump.

Amity perks up in response. With potions now out of their way, they could finally move on to Abominations Theoretics. The young witchling hurried to pull her notes out; cheeks already warming at the thought of Luz’s attention solely on her. And off Lilith. She’s about to speak up when she notices Luz’s sudden stillness.

A weariness has fallen on Luz’s face on a scale Amity’s never seen before, but before she can address it, the expression is wiped clean from her features and replaced by determination. She squares her shoulders, clears her throat to draw three pairs of eyes on her, and with a confidence Amity can’t see reflected in her eyes, says: “Professor Krill mentioned an old tomb in the ribs today. He says no one’s ever been able to get in because of a barrier.” Amity already doesn’t like where this is going. “Do you think it’s like the one the Conformatorium had? You know, humans only?”

Amity, stiff as a statue and voice lodged in her throat, blinks. Blinks. That’s her only reaction.

“I know what you’re thinking, kid,” Eda is the first to respond, her back straightening from her seated position; arms crossing over her chest. “And you can forget about it. I’m not about to let you go trapezing through some labyrinth if I can’t follow you in.”

“But Eda-”

“No buts.” Quick to interrupt her apprentice, Eda shakes her head. “I’m putting my foot down on this. It could be dangerous, Luz. And I can’t protect you.”

Luz snarls. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “I don’t need you to protect me, Eda. ¡Puedo protegerme!”

“Language.” Lilith, tone carefully measured to be both scolding and calming, was the only one not reeling over the uncharacteristic display of anger Luz was projecting. 

The brief flicker of Luz’s mahogany eyes in her direction and the slight dip in her shoulders are the only indicators she heard the older woman; other than that, she ignores her. “We don’t even know if it isn’t just some creepy cave in-” She hesitates. “What exactly are the Ribs?”

“Nowhere you need to be, kid.”

“Eda-”

“How do we know it isn’t some trap the Emperor has set up for you? Hm?” Eda sneers. She isn’t holding back her own anger, and Lilith doesn’t have the same effect on her as she does Luz. “A little too much of a coincidence to mention a tomb no one can enter except the one human in the class, if you ask me.”

“Professor Krill wouldn’t-”

“How can you be certain of that?” Eda shouts, with a strangled quality Amity’s never heard in her voice before; it’s enough to make her flinch in response. All the anger has instantly fled her. Her eyes are pleading with Luz to understand where she’s coming from. “Tell me, Luz, how can you know?”

“I-” she can’t, and she’s unable to form anything tangible enough to appease Eda’s overprotectiveness. “-I just know, Eda. Please.”

Throughout the whole argument, being utterly useless when Luz is in need of aid (because she can’t support her here), Amity has clenched her fists so tightly her nails have dug deep enough into her palms to break the skin, but she does nothing to loosen her grip. The pain keeps her own anger in check. From raising her voice at Luz and saying something she’ll regret, all because of the foolish stupidity her friend is spewing right now. She won’t lash out at Luz. She can’t lose her trust. Lose her.

Luz averts her gaze from her mentor, unable to match those eyes with her own. She sets her sights on Lilith instead, her expression already softening into the look Amity hates with every fiber of her being. “Lilith? Don’t you think we should check it out?” There’s a rawness to Luz’s voice, like she needs Lilith to agree with her on this one. “It might help us.”

It takes a while before Lilith responds, her eyes flicking between Luz and her sister, whose features have twisted into an indecipherable expression, also in need of her sister siding with her. “I’m sorry, Luz.” Decision made, it seemed, and Luz crumbles from the weight of it, like Lilith’s words alone sapped the fight right out of her. “I’m with Edalyn on this one. The Ribs are no place for young witchlings.” A flicker of pain crosses her features, -it’s there and gone so fast Amity thinks she imagined it- and Amity notes Luz gently squeezing one of Lilith’s legging-clad thighs. She continues on with: “And with Eda’s magic gone and mine unreliable, we can’t be running off on a whim. It isn’t safe for any of us.”

“I just want to help you break the curse and get your magic back.”

Eda sighs, reclaiming her position pressed flush against her older sister. “I know you want to help,” She says, gently. “But we have to be smart about it this time.”

Lilith gently squeezes Luz’s shoulder. “My sister is right, again.” She’s briefly shocked by the words, and Eda gently nudges her in the ribs, a smug grin adorning her face. Swift to ignore her sister, she continues. “Your life isn’t worth breaking a curse I casted. It’s safer if Edalyn and I look more into it before deciding anything.”

“See, kid? We’ll let you know if it’s worth our time. Until then, let it be, alright?”

“Alright.” Luz concedes defeat. “I’ll let it go.”

Amity wonders if either of the women notice the gleam in her eyes. Luz, no.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the night, but Luz was still wide awake.

The teen gave a quiet sigh of frustration and rolled onto her back, her arms crossed behind her head. It was a common occurrence in the last month for sleep to elude her. Usually, she quietly shimmies out of her sleeping bag, not wanting to disturb a slumbering King, and tiptoes into the kitchen for a late night scavenger hunt in the fridge. Not tonight, though. Leaving the room meant running into Lilith, and Luz wasn’t feeling social enough to engage in awkward conversation with the older woman tonight.

It’ll be another day soon. You got this, Luz. Smile.

What started off as an occasional pick-me-up when the nights were long, has become a sort of chant -if she’s honest, it’s more of a reminder - for the teen in the early hours of the morning, her sleepy eyes locked on the first rays of dawn cresting the horizon. A chant to be the chipper human everyone knows and loves. Smile, Luz. Or they’ll worry. And, as always, her smiles are bright and cheery for them; simple enough to slip on her face in the daylight when her mind is preoccupied by school and friends. It was the afternoons she found to be a little more difficult to hold onto, the edges of her lips tugging downward. King and Eda are always there as unknowing lifelines, though. And Lilith-

Luz ignored that thought. Ignored the complicated mess she’s got herself into with the older woman and turned her thoughts back to her mentor. It never ceases to amaze her when Eda casts magic, even glyph magic has a certain charm when her mentor effortlessly wields it. Eda’s such a natural, too, performing like she’s been doing it her life. But it was such a battle in the beginning there -the older woman hated being taught. (“Ugh, kid, you sound like my professors.Think I’ll pass on the lessons.”) Luz learned she was best left to her own devices. She isn’t one to turn Eda down, however, when she does come seeking advice, and she savors every moment she has teaching Eda all about her tricks and tips. It’s the least I can do.

She’s so tired, though. 

Tired and bitter. Tired of pretending she’s fine; bitter no one has thought to look a little harder and see the real her. That’s a lie: someone has noticed. Again, she’d rather not focus on that. Subconsciously, she wonders if anyone else has noticed the change in her. Do they know she’s not happy here on the Isles anymore? She misses her home. She misses her mami. 

Luz frowned. Not for a second does she regret the sacrifice she made for Eda: her mentor is as much her family as her mami is, but she’s starting to wonder if there had been another choice . A different path she could have followed. If she had taken the portal with her to the human realm like she was told to, would Eda have gotten away with King and Lilith? Safe from Belos? But still magicless? Because of Luz?

Did I make the right choice, mami?

She eventually abandons her thoughts on remaining in her sleeping bag until the first light of dawn, the sudden urge to move itching under the surface layer of her skin. Luz is swift to roll out of her cocoon, stretching out the discomfort as she paces the confines of her room. She has no need to tiptoe around the space, as King has resigned himself to the couch tonight, claiming he needed to keep an eye on his secret stash of candy. (“There’s a thief on the premises, Luz, and I’m going to nab them. Nyeh!”) Luz didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t so secret or she’s the one stealing from him. She promises herself she’ll replace them when she goes to the market after school. Scout’s honor!

The motions do little to settle her. Her heart pounds ever harder behind her ribs, the discomfort now slinking down to nestle in the rhythmic pattern of her breathing. Breathe in. One. Two. Three. She scratches her collarbone in agitation. Her white tank top and black pajama shorts leave her skin bared to the chill of the room, but she hardly notices the temperature as a heat rises in her. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Her carefully crafted foundation was cracking, and Luz was frantic to repair the damage. I’m okay. I’m fine. It’ll be another day soon.

She needed an adhesive to fill in the cracks. 

Mami. Since the portal was destroyed three months ago, Luz has kept her phone switched off. (“I’m sorry, kid. I know how much it means to you, but it’s for the best.”) It stays on her person at all times, though. Safe in her backpack as she ventures into the dangerous world known as the Boiling Isles, a gnawing fear of losing it and her only connection to her mami residing in her chest. Rarely does she turn it back on. Only when her world was unraveling around her and she needed to be grounded again. Like now.

She strides over to the end table near her sleepinging bag, her phone right where she left it earlier in the night. A simple press down on the power button with her finger will reboot her phone and she’ll hear her mother’s voice again. Before a wedge formed between them about Luz’s future and her odd behaviour, they used to be as thick as thieves, and Luz loved to film their outings. She can already envision one of her favorites; feel the warmth of a summer day on her skin, wind gently rustling her hair, as they find a good spot in the park to enjoy their lunch. She can hear her mami trying to make a joke, her words filling Luz’s ears in their native tongue, and Luz laughing at how terrible it is. Estoy bien. Estará bien pronto.

Except.

Instead of lighting up like usual, her phone’s screen remained dark. Quiet. Unresponsive. Dead.

A slow simmer mere minutes before, her last connection to her mami was the match her panic needed to erupt into flames. Luz chokes on her own breath, hysteria bubbling in the back of her throat. No, no, no. Luz’s entire body went rigid. She grasped the edges of the end table so tightly the knuckles on her hands turned white. Winding tighter and tighter, her molars creaked under the tension of a clenching jaw. Luz fought so desperately to douse the fire into smoldering embers. Esto no puede estar pasando.

It can’t be true. Her last trace of home can’t be gone. Lost.

Por favor, que no! 

The fear was settling in now, that sleeping terror she kept sealed tight in the back of her head is now stirring; spiralling so quickly out of her control she can’t rein it in fast enough. No, no, no. Her thoughts are chaotic and vengeful, unable to process the building tension, to comfort the mounting helplessness. No, mami. Por favor, habla conmigo! ¡No me dejes!

She struggled to breathe. 

There wasn’t enough air in the room to breathe, her ribs aching from the pressure. Black spots danced in her vision and no matter how hard her lungs heaved, not a single breath of air filled her. 

Everything inside her screamed at her to just look away, but her eyes could not tear themselves from the source of her panic. She wasn’t comprehending it. It couldn’t be real. Not so soon. She wasn’t ready. Mami?

“Are you alright, human?”

A sudden pressure on her right shoulder has Luz flinching away. A second of confusion as her thoughts are disoriented and the sound filtered in her ears isn’t yet properly processed. Her mahogany eyes are wild and wide open, bouncing around the room in search of the voice before locking in on the figure in front of her. It’s Lilith, she knows, and some sensible part of her scrambles to hold onto that knowledge. But it’s like grasping at straws; slipping straight out of her sweaty hands. Sinking her further back into the void of panic and fear. No.

The older woman’s heterochromatic eyes assess her with their keen stare from behind her glasses, so close she stands to her she can see the different flecks of grays and blues in her eyes. What a pathetic sight she must be. Shaking so hard it physically hurts. Drenched in a cold sweat from head to toe. The panic in her eyes. Dejar de mirarme. 

Luz chokingly gasps. Lavender and jasmine engulf her and suddenly air burns a path straight down her throat, her lungs frantically working to drown themselves in the aroma. It’s Lilith’s scent and Luz’s never noticed it before because Lilith doesn’t usually stand this close to her. To anyone. 

“Can you hear me,” Lilith’s voice was soft, so soft Luz had to strain to hear it. “Human?” 

“No la oigo. No puede decirme si tomé la decisión correcta.”

Lilith’s hand hesitantly receded from her shoulder, a sudden realization coming over her features. Luz doesn’t bother to process the information, her attention drawn to the sweater’s sleeve tugging down to reveal a pale wrist and the shimmering gold brand of the older woman’s previous coven. The Emperor’s Coven. The reason she was still here.

She thinks Lilith opened her mouth to speak again. No puedes hablarme monstruo.

Luz snapped.

Her body went from panicked flight to twisting into a physical reaction. A dark and terrifying rage bubbled up from deep within her. It snuffed out every rational thought, clouded her better judgement, till all that was left was the primal urge to harm one of the few responsible for taking her mother away from her. 

With a wounded growl, she lunged at Lilith, taking the older woman by surprise as her tiny frame collided with hers and pushed her down onto the hardwood floor. One of Lilith’s shoulders slammed down first with a resounding smack, a squeak and a hissing groan of pain emitting from her. Luz savored it. Sí, duele tanto como me lastimaste.

“Todo es culpa tuya,” Luz snarled. Astride the older woman with her thighs, pinning her down to the floor, Luz’s palms are splayed on either side of Lilith’s head, her midnight blue locks brushing against her skin. “Ella se ha ido y todo es culpa tuya.”

“Wha-” Lilith was stiff beneath her, her wide eyes made all the wider by her glasses. “What are you doing?”

“Devuélveme su espalda.” 

“I don’t-”

The blood in Luz’s veins was searing. “No la oigo. ¡Es tu culpa!” She gripped Lilith by the front of her sweater, jerking her towards her with a strength inconceivable by a girl of her stature. “¿Q ué tienes que decir por ti mismo?”

She seethed with uncontrollable fury. 

Lilith merely flinched, nothing more. A whisper of concern floated up from the depths of her mind, questioning why the older woman hasn’t yet attempted to defend herself against the teen. Meager as it may be, Lilith still possessed her magic. Removing the teen from her person should be as effortless as breathing for someone like her. Yet she doesn’t fight back. ¿Por qué?

It infuriated her.

Luz steadied herself and raised her freehand in the air, fingers curling into a fist, ready to satisfy what her rage demanded of her, only to pause. A sudden movement in her peripheral broke her concentration from Lilith. She caught her reflection in the floor length mirror leaning against the wall. Her entire body stilled in stund shock. The snarl etched into her features terrified her. The unbridled fury in her eyes stole her breath. 

Ese no soy yo. 

Bile burned at the back of her throat, and she fought the urge to retch as she jack-knifed to her feet, clumsily staggering backwards. Her back collided with a wall with a resounding smack, her knees giving out on her as she slid down to the cool comfort of the hardwood floor. She tucked her body inwards until her head pressed into the top of her thighs. Ese no soy no. Por favor, que no! 

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her body tightened further. Her foundation was rubble beneath her feet. Her control was gone. Sweat rolled down her face and neck as body-wide tremors racked her frame. Her nails angled sharply to scrape into her scalp, a futile attempt to silence the voices screaming in her head.

“Don’t,” The voice was frantic, but the pressure cinching around her wrists, ceasing her actions instantly, was soft and sure . Her hands were relocated to her ears, her palms pressed flat against them instead of abusing her scalp. “Ssh, it’s alright,” The scent of lavender and jasmine assaulted her nostrils and Luz inhaled lungfuls of it greedily. “Let it all out. I’ve got you.”

Luz breaks. A blood-curdling shriek tore from her throat so raw it was painful. 

//

It felt like hours before Luz could move again. 

Lilith had remained close enough to touch but far enough away Luz wouldn’t feel suffocated by her presence. She’s since moved further away from the teen, as the sobs have quieted to just wet hiccups and her tightened limbs have eased their hold. Giving her room to breathe. To find her bearing. 

“You with me now?” Lilith asked, tentative. Knowing. 

Luz nodded, swallowing hard. She shakily rests her chin atop her knees, her tear-stained cheeks sticky against her bare skin. “ Sí. Estoy aquí.” Her arms cross over her legs to subside the small tremors still racking her frame.

“Other than the strange language, I suppose so,” Lilith sighed. She has her left leg drawn up, mirroring Luz’s stance as she tucks her chin on the raised knee. Her eyes glance about the teen’s face from behind her glasses, a knowing in her eyes Luz can’t comprehend. “Have you experienced anything like this before?”

Luz didn’t say a word. Scared to spiral out of control again; it’s not like Lilith can understand her anyway. For the moment, she’s content to let her gaze wander over the older woman in her living space. She hasn’t changed into her sleepwear yet, and the teen is just now coming to the realization that she’s never seen Lilith in anything but oversized sweaters and leggings since her time in the Owl House. It appeared tonight was no different. Is there a reason for it, she briefly wonders. 

What is new is the way Lilith looks at her now. Disdain had been their normal for a while, shooting glares at the other across the table at breakfast when no one was paying attention -to be fair, everyone was glaring at one another in the beginning; though none compared to the heated looks Lilith and Eda tended to pierce the other with. They were always a stray glance away from snarling at each other. Then, one night, Lilith’s composure cracked in front of her and Luz remembered it wasn’t in her nature to hold onto so much hatred in her heart.

Stifled awkwardness followed them around after that. Luz was navigating a world of concerned understandment and Lilith was lost in hers. Single-mindedly obtaining her goals without a single soul knowing of the regret she harbors was Lilith’s life for a long time, so much so she’s forgotten how to reach out for help. Luz had been there once: alone. But unlike Lilith, she made friends and found a family who loved her. 

Lilith is still alone. Hated. Distrusted. It donned on Luz then: she was the only one who could see Lilith needed help. Be the only one capable to help her fix her mistakes and reconcile with her little sister. And that meant letting the hate go. (“ I, Luz Noceda, f rom this forward, will be your friend. Don’t scoff at me, Lilith Clawthorne. I’m a great friend. Just ask Amity!”)

Lilith didn’t glare at her, she didn’t avoid eye contact with her out of embarrassment, and she didn’t even harbor pity in her unwavering gaze. Her eyes shimmered with some impossibly great sadness, a quiet understanding lurking in their depths. “Has this happened before, Luz?” She repeats the question, more urgently than before.

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Lilith say her name. A sudden flutter in her chest takes her by surprise. ¿Por qué?

“ Estoy bien,” She murmurs quietly. “Está bien.”

Lilith’s brow furrowed and she was quiet for a moment. Without a clear communication hub between them, Luz truly thought this was the moment Lilith would grow bored of watching her and leave the teen to pick up the pieces of her crumbled foundation. She alone will repair the damage, as she has always done. It’s fine. She doesn’t need the older woman to stay and hold her hand and coo sweet nothings in her ear. 

Sólo está aquí por su hermana de todos modos. A bubble of shame formed in her heart at the thought. They were friends. Fragile in its beginning stage, yes, but friends nonetheless. Luz briefly wondered what she’d give to not be so broken. To be normal again. To not have her emotions turn on her at every corner. Tears were burning in her eyes and she slammed them close to stop them from spilling. She couldn’t be broken. Too many people depended on her. 

“If I told you,” And Luz’s head snapped up at the sudden sound, her face betraying her shock at the realization Lilith hadn’t moved an inch, merely kept her gaze low and away from the teen. “I know what’s going through your mind right now, would you believe me?”

Luz stared at her, more startled to hear her speak than comprehending the meaning behind her words. Mind still in the process of answering why she was even still here to give the older woman a response.

Lilith leveled her with a glassy stare, an unfettered anguish in her gaze. “You think you have to be so strong,” she said quietly, almost pensively. “You’re fine, right? Nothing’s wrong; you have it all under control. You don’t need anyone’s help.”

Luz felt her heart clench. Several seconds passed without a response. Not a word was forming on Luz’s tongue. She was paralyzed. 

Another bout of silence followed; then, “The attacks will come far and few in between each other, some lasting longer than others, and you’ll think that’s perfectly fine,” Lilith finally said, and Luz’s heart pounded in her ribcage at the direction this was going. “You’re still in control, right? You’re not broken.” 

All the while she talked, Luz felt her eyes widening bit by bit. An ill-at-ease filling manifesting in her chest, her hands unconsciously tightening around her legs to hide the quickening of her breaths.

Lilith’s hesitant by her reaction, a war brewing in her eyes. The decision she settles on isn’t an easy one, Luz notes, as fear and indecisiveness contort her features. She sighed and tugged up one sleeve of her sweater, pausing to shakily breathe in, and Luz was briefly reunited with the sight of the shimmering gold of her brand. 

Her blood runs cold in her veins at what she sees further up Lilith’s arm.

Parallel to each other, three jagged lines flawed the older woman’s otherwise unblemished skin. “Eventually,” Lilith continues, her fingers tracing the raised skin in remembrance. “You’ll lose what little control you thought you had and pain will become your new anchor. Because what else do you have when your body isn’t yours anymore? Pain.”

Luz couldn’t find her words, if there were any to say, and she stared, open mouthed, at Lilith’s arm. Her hand itches to reach out, to feel for herself how deep Lilith must have sank her nails into her own skin to cause such scars. Were there more? Is that what laid beneath? 

Lilith is quick to let her sweater fall back down when she catches the twitch from the teen. “They started when I was around your age,” A tight smile curls the edges of her lips; grieving and sympathetic “Joining the Emperor’s Coven had been my dream since I was a child, and when it was clear Edalyn’s magical potential would surpass mine, a fear rooted itself in me. What if she got in and I didn’t? So, I studied harder; trained harder than anyone. It was easy to ignore the prickling in my chest, the breathlessness, the night terrors- all of it was shoved so far down I fooled myself into thinking I was fine.”

“¿Qué sucedió después?”

“It was only after I cursed Edalyn they weren’t so easily shoved down anymore. I adjusted, though. Locked myself away when I felt them coming. I really thought I was still in control.” 

“¿Eda sabe algo de esto?” 

The older woman briefly glanced her way. “The worst of it manifested before I was made the leader of the coven. I was a captain and my team was given a simple mission up in The Ribs to locate and apprehend a group of covenless witches.” Lilith chuckled, humorlessly. “Turns out they were waiting for us and we were ambushed. Miraculously, no one was killed.” The tight smile fell flat. Her eyes darkened ominously. “One, though, was severely wounded, and I blamed myself. Once more, I had caused someone harm.”

Luz fought back a shiver. “No fue tu culpa. No podías haber sabido que era una trampa.”

“I have no recollection of the attack itself, but I vividly recall the pain . It centered me. The iron cage I was trapped in suddenly disintegrated. I latched onto that feeling and came back to my thigh a throbbing, mangled mess. But I was in control and that’s all that mattered.”

Luz exhaled. It made sense now why the older woman ceased her actions earlier. For that moment, she saw herself in Luz’s place, alone and clawing her way out of the iron cage her mind trapped her in. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again. She couldn’t find the words to comfort Lilith; wasn’t sure she was capable of assuring the older woman she wouldn’t let it get to that point. Because could she?

Her thoughts must be written clear on her features, for Lilith studied her carefully and methodically. “I don’t want you to go through that, Luz,” There was genuine sorrow in Lilith’s voice. “I won’t let it come to that.” Her name did that fluttering in her chest phenomenon again.

There was a look of almost absolute desolation in the older woman’s eyes. Luz moved purely on instinct. She crawled the short distance separating the two of them, mindful to keep an inch of space between them -nonetheless Lilith flinched at Luz’s sudden nearness. Her knees dug into the wood as they supported her full weight. The teen reached a hand out and gently pinched the sleeve of her sweater. Words were still failing her, but she managed to convey what she wanted to say with a faint smile. Estoy aquí.

Lilith gently squeezed her shoulder in reply, and Luz felt a wave of calm sweep through her. “You think you have to pretend to be perfectly fine in front of everyone, but you don’t have to be with me. I’m broken, too.” And Luz felt the burn of tears again, but she didn’t fight it this time. She let them run down her cheeks. “I won’t stand by and watch you live the same nightmare I faced. You mean too much to Edalyn for me to just pretend you’ll figure it all out yourself. Let me help you get through this.”

Luz nodded. For the first time in a long time, Luz felt good. She felt like herself.  

//

Lilith waited. 

She was seated in her customary spot at the breakfast table, a cup of cooling tea before her. Her thoughts were centered around the human upstairs -how best to aid her; when to inform Edalyn of her apprentice’s deteriorating mental health, because Luz needed a support system and Lilith was hardly the best fit for the job. The Boiling Isles didn’t cater to one’s mental stability -it’s a harsh world, and if you’re not strong enough to fight your own battles, what good are you to The Isles? Lilith dug herself out of her own grave. For Edalyn. She’d be damned if she left Luz to suffer the same fate. 

The older woman remained long enough with the human to ensure her sleep was a peaceful one, aware enough to know it wasn’t wise to linger. She waited, with Luz tucked back into her cocoon, for the soft sounds of her breathing falling into the steady rhythm of slumber to rise from her seated position on the floor. A quick flick of the wrist and the silencing spell she casted earlier in the night was released. She was gone before anyone else in the house stirred. Like she was never there in the first place. 

Edalyn was the first to stumble down the stairs and into the kitchen when the morning’s rays flooded the house in a gentle light. She gave her characteristic yawn and scratch on the back before leveling her sister with a blank stare. For once, it hardly affected Lilith, more pressing matters on her mind than her need to reconcile with her sister. 

“Do you even know how to sleep?” Edalyn grumbled, ambling over to the fridge to route around for this morning’s breakfast. Lilith’s figured out it’s the quickest way to wake the sleeping occupants of the Owl House. 

Lilith closed her eyes and sighed deeply, praying for strength or patience -perhaps a combination of both, honestly. “Do you know the name of the language your human speaks?” 

Edalyn straightened instantly, her own heterochromatic eyes leering at Lilith from over her shoulder. “You want to run that by me again?” She growls, defensiveness radiating off of her frame. 

“I was wondering,” Lilith said, mindful of her words this time. “If you knew the name of the language Luz speaks?” It was s trange to say the name in front of someone who isn’t the girl.  

“English, sis,” Eda replies coolly, the door of the fridge closing behind her as she turned to face her sister. A snark was tugging her lips upwards. “And here I thought you were the smart one.”

“The other one.” Lilith snarled. 

“Uh, I know Luz likes to gush over cute things, but that’s still English, sister dear. Mm, then again, maybe you don’t understand that one. Ha.”

“ Edalyn.”

“ Lilith.”

“Why are you always like this,” Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes tight. “All I’m asking for is a name. Why must you make this anymore tedious than it needs to be?”

Edalyn pursed her lips as if contemplating her words, though she never took her gaze off her older sister. “And pray tell,” Eda said, purposely withholding the information. “Would you need to know something like that?”

“Sometimes,” She exhaled, a thousand thoughts running rampant in her head before she silenced them; settling on a simple explanation to appease her sister. “She rambles in it, and I was curious about it. Do you know or not?”

A brief moment of silence passed between the two of them, as it appeared Edalyn had little notion to share with her older sister the information she’s seeking. Lilith was seconds away from conceding defeat and simply asking the human herself later tonight when Edalyn finally moved, her head nodding from a silent conversation she held with herself. 

“Luz calls it Spanish,” Edalyn answered, strangely regarding her sister. 

Spanish. Lilith nodded. It seems a bit of schooling is in order.

So inwardly focused she is, Lilith missed the soft smile Edalyn’s wearing when she turned back to her previous agenda of preparing breakfast. Content to know her older sister is growing as a person, but not so willing to let her know about it just yet. Look at you, Lily, learning how to love again. And Luz, of all people. Kid sure knows how to pick ‘em.

Chapter Text

The smell was nauseating.

Luz's nose crinkled in disgust. She was perched atop the breakfast table, legs crossed -Lilith's earlier glower did little to deter Luz from moving. Nor did the smell stop her from leaning forward to peer closer into the cauldron Lilith was brewing a sickly green liquid in. She was mindful of the conjured fire beneath the cauldron, the blue flames flicking up around the rounded surface. A ponder as to why the flames needed to be magical instead of man-made earned her a blank look. She sheepishly scrunched her shoulders upwards, duly noting to pay more attention in her potion classes from now on.

A book -more like a tome it was so huge- was flipped open and settled in Luz's lap, more there for the teen to study and learn from the experience today than for Lilith herself (Luz also believes it's because the older woman is a grump when she hasn't slept and if the dark circles under her eyes were of any indication, Lilith was in no mood to teach the teen things she should probably already know). Luz glanced back down at it. The script was written in spiraling cursive, the penmanship flowy and precise. Luz wondered if Lilith wrote all of the potions in the book. She definitely seemed the type to have neat handwriting. 

Luz traced the curves with her eyes, trying to absorb the information presented to her on the page. Like the plant track, potions was one of her weaker subjects. She found the lectures so boring and the class difficult. The only time Luz ever felt a spark of interest for it was when Lilith was the one teaching her. The older woman was a naturally gifted teacher, explaining the complexities around potions with an ease Luz always finds so fascinating; effortlessly hooking Luz onto her words. She made potions fascinating. Her potions professor, sadly, did not have the same effect. 

"I'm surprised you didn't join Edalyn on her trip to the market," Lilith said, her eyes unwavering from their stare into the cauldron. She sprinkled a dried herb in before stirring the wooden spoon held in her left hand counterclockwise. "You've hardly left the house all weekend." 

The tone wasn't in any form accusatory in its inquiry, but Luz shrunk inwards nonetheless. She was still in the process to break the habit of pretending everything's alright, even around Lilith. She fiddled with the edges of the opened book, careful not to rip the pages. "I guess I wasn't feeling very social today." She shrugged her shoulders, noncommittally. 

Lilith hummed, side-eyeing her briefly in acknowledgement of what she's doing but letting it go. For now. It's the best she can hope for, really. She's grateful for Lilith's help. Truly, she is. She hasn't felt like herself in months; so to have someone understand her was refreshing. She could breathe again. Be Luz. It was nice. Just, some days, she hates herself for still being broken. Today just so happened to be one of those days. 

Luz veered away from those thoughts and watched Lilith sort through an array of jars surrounding the cauldron, not a single label on any of them but somehow the woman's aware of what's hidden in their depths. She selects a pale yellow one, uncorks it, and another dried herb is sprinkled into the cauldron. The color changes from sickly green to navy blue.

Luz's voice is soft, careful. "What was it like?"

Lilith doesn't even spare her a glance. "Hm, sorry, I'm not a mind-reader. You'll need to be more specific." The tug at the right corner of her lip was the only indicator Luz had of Lilith's present amusement.

The teen cracks a smile at the joke, giggling softly. She's slow to sober. Aware she's treading dangerous territory. "To be the leader of the Emperor's Coven. What was it like?"

There's a subtle pause in the older woman's movements, and Luz wouldn't have noticed the slight tension in Lilith's jaw if she hadn't already been keenly observing the older woman for the last hour. Eda once told her Lilith was a master at wearing a mask but her eyes always gave her away. ("You just gotta know what to look for, kid. Lily's not as unreadable as you might think.") Even now, her face is neutral, nary a wrinkle present on her pale features. But her eyes are conflicted, weighing the pros and cons of answering the question. 

Suddenly, Lilith has a pinched look on her face, as if she's fighting down some emotion, and Luz inwardly squeals at how adorable it is. Not so adorable Lilith thought she needed to hide how she feels from Luz, mind you, but it's a step closer to completely abandoning her mask altogether for the teen. Because Lilith never has this expression on her face when around the others, and Luz has seen by her eyes the range of emotions she's felt with her blank stare set firmly in place. It's only Luz who gets this brief exterior conflict. Well, Eda does, but Luz isn't blood, so she considers herself much more special. (She also doesn't account for Lilith's anger. Eda's confirmed her sister is easily aggravated.)

Lilith's lips get thinner and thinner, pressing them together as her gaze wanders from the cauldron and on the teenaged human sheepishly staring at her and then back to the cauldron. She sighed. "Here," She says, shoving a root of a strange plant into Luz's hands. It's purple and smells like licorice. "Shred a few pieces of bark off of it and I'll tell you anything you want to know." She paused, eyeing Luz dubiously. "Anything I deem appropriate, that is."

Luz pouted. But she won't push her luck. This once. "Deal," She chirps instead, eager to be of assistance. "So, what was it like? How does someone even become head of a coven? Is there a lot of paperwork? Eda likes to say you've slowed down because you've spent too long behind a desk," It all rambles out of her as she unconsciously shreds the plant in her hands, the pieces of flora easily separating between her nimble fingers. The smell of licorice was stronger the deeper she penetrated into the plant. "When you and Eda fought," She intentionally ignored the flinch from the older woman. "You didn't look slow to me. Tired, maybe. I mean, Eda was pummeling you and I know now it was taking a lot of your focus to keep that bubble of yours around me to really duke it out with her."

"Orb," Lilith corrected. "It was a protection orb." She ceased Luz's shredding with a wave of her hand, flicking through the pieces for what she desired and adding them to the cauldron. "Now, to answer your questions. Becoming a coven leader isn't so simple in the nine main covens. The smaller ones, I believe, merely vote on who they see best represents their coven." 

"How come?" Luz pondered. She completely disregarded the orb comment. She liked calling it a bubble too much to give it up so easily. 

"You must excel at the type of magic associated with your chosen coven. You must be the strongest. The wisest. The most resourceful. You're representing one of the most powerful covens on the Boiling Isles. You must be able to rise to the occasion."

"Wow," Luz breathed. She propped her elbows on her thighs, cradling her head in her hands. "Can you be challenged?"

"Yes. So long as the challenger can provide for the coven."

"Were you ever?"

"Once," Lilith hummed, her focus primarily on what she's brewing in the cauldron. She's since switched to stirring clockwise. It still smells awful. "It was a member of the Blight family, actually. They weren't very pleased a nobody like me was the Emperor's left hand."

"Wowsers," Luz's eyes widened. She was surprised to hear a member of Amity's family went up against Lilith and lost. If Amity wasn't so angsty about Lilith, the two teens could get a laugh out of Luz's findings. But, unfortunately, Amity is still prickly and it only ever invites arguments between the friends. "It doesn't seem very efficient, though. How do you get anything done if, say, the leadership is being changed everyday?"

"It's fairly rare for leaders to be challenged, but I'll humor your curiosity." Lilith's lips curled in an amused grin. A warmth blossomed in Luz's chest at the sight. She liked Lilith's smiles. "All covens are governed by a specific law system based on their primary magical ability. Only Belos can change those laws. Coven leaders are there to adhere to those laws and to keep their covens in line. A change in power doesn't change this, merely who represents them; so, in theory, a coven could go through six leaders in a day and it would do little harm to them."

Luz snickered at the thought of a coven actually going through six leaders in a day (the amount of paperwork that must go into that). It stills seems inefficient to her that power was merit enough to be considered head of a coven. But Lilith was one, and if Luz has learned anything about the older woman, it's that she's ridiculously intelligent (just don't say that around Eda, for she'll enthusiastically remind everyone her sister is a dumb-dumb in every other aspect out of book smarts). Luz will just have to take her word for it on this one. Besides, the Boiling Isles was already playing by a whole different set of rules from her realm. Who was she to really judge?

"Now, paperwork," Lilith mused. Her nose crinkled in disgust, mirroring the same face Luz made at the cauldron earlier. Luz coughed to smother her laughter at the sight, though Lilith's side-eye at her informed she failed terribly. "It's one of the few things I don't miss about my position." Her eyes rolled in annoyance, a huff bypassing her lips as she removed the wooden spoon from the cauldron. "I thought my handwriting was atrocious; you should have seen some of the reports I was forced to read through. It was a miracle I understood any of it."

That piqued Luz's interest. "Wait," She lifted the book off her lap and turned it towards Lilith, holding it just under her chin. "You mean you didn't write any of this?"

Lilith glanced over. "No," She casually revealed, as if it wasn't a big deal. Which, by the way, it was. "Edalyn wrote it."

Luz's jaw dropped. "You're joking." She was so shocked. 

"I don't joke."

"Liar."

"I don't lie."

"Liar."

Lilith's smile is lop-sided; unknowingly, Luz mirrored it. "I'm not joking," She relieves Luz of the heavy tome and flips it to the first page before facing it back to the teen. There, in cursive swirls, was Eda's full name. Luz stares. She never expected her mentor to have such lovely penmanship. Her curiosity has now been further piqued: what does Lilith's handwriting look like? She glances up at the woman as she's handed the book back. 

"No," The older woman easily interpreted the stare leveled her way. "Not happening."

"Please?" Luz pouted.

"That doesn't work on me."

She continued to pout.

"I'm not Edalyn, Luz. Your face isn't going to get me to do what you want."

Big guns it is. Luz let her lower lip wobble just the slightest. The book dropped, forgotten, in her lap as she laces her fingers together and tucks them under her chin, the puppy-dog eyes in full effect. "Please, Lily, can I see your handwriting?"

Lilith remains firm for ten seconds. Luz watches the miniscule ticks of her face morph from unbreakable resolve to crumbling into undignified defeat. Her head cocks back and she huffs in irritation. "Fine," She growls with no real malice in her tone. "I will show you. Don't know why it's so important to you. But only after I'm finished with this."

"Fine by me!" The teen cheers. Her victorious smile dials down to a curious frown. "You said the paperwork was one thing you don't miss. What's another?"

"Oh," Lilith takes her time answering. "That would be dealing with the High Council."

"I'm sorry, the what?"

Lilith nodded. "The High Council," She inspects the cauldron one last time. A snap and the flame is instantly extinguished. She places a lid atop the cauldron and turns her whole attention onto Luz. "If leaders are considered the most powerful of their covens, the High Council is the most gifted of their members. In a way, they're the powerful who didn't want the responsibility of leadership but still wanted everyone to know what they're capable of."

"And by capable, you mean-" Luz was almost afraid to know the answer. 

Lilith surely didn't disappoint. "They want you to know how effortlessly they could kill you."

"Oh," Luz shivered, a shard of ice running down her spine. "I might regret asking, but how do you become a member of the High Council?"

"Only one of the main nine can be a member," Lilith gently explained. She cocked her hip against the side of the breakfast table, her arms folding over her chest. "And it's as simple as winning Belos' favor."

Luz let the information digest. Her eyes are wide, unblinking. Since the portal was destroyed and Eda was saved from petrification, it's always bugged Luz as to why Belos wasted his time allowing Lilith to hunt her sister in the manner she was. Especially considering it was only a month before the incident Lilith began actively pursing Eda. Why wait so long? And discovering he has an assortment of wickedly gifted witches at his beck and call only added to the bafflement of it all. Luz doesn't understand how Belos operates. Doesn't think she ever wants to. 

Luz chewed on her lip. "I take it," She responded, carefully. "It's not really that simple, is it?"

"It isn't." Lilith confirmed. "Very few ever do."

"And you had to deal with them?"

"Rarely, mind you. Belos likes to keep them spread throughout the Isles."

"Why?"

Lilith quirked a brow. "A show of force, I suppose."

"Oh." Luz winced. That ought to have been obvious, even to her. "What was it like to be in a room with them?" Oh, Dios, tell me they didn't threaten you. Gifted or not, I will-

"Aggravating." Lilith deadpanned. 

Luz choked on a surprised laugh, the blank stare on Lilith's face further spurring her coughing fit. She swallows it all down after a few rough pats on the back from the older woman, worry and amusement clear in her eyes. "You weren't afraid?" She asked, clearing her throat. 

Lilith is contemplative for a second before she responds. "None but one has ever held a candle to the same raw power like Edalyn. So, no, I can't say I was ever afraid." Well, that answers one of Luz's looming questions. 

Wait. Luz perked up at the sudden realization of what Lilith said. "Aw, Lily," She coos, her eyes softening and a blossoming smile stretching across her face. She slaps the palms of her hands against her cheeks as she squeaks. "Is that a compliment I hear?" 

It takes Lilith a second to comprehend before she visibly reacts. The tips of the older woman's pointed ears turn pink as she flushes, her head pointedly turning away from the teen as she growls lowly. "Enough. You're not cute."

"I'm freaking adorable," Luz countered. Her ribs ache from the amount of laughter she's withheld within the last hour. She's merciful and refocuses. "So, who is it?"

Lilith's frame is rigid, made even stiffer by the conversation at hand. "Mira Rime," Her voice is hard, as unyielding as a glacier. "She's an illusionist with extraordinary power, and she isn't afraid to use it." 

Luz frowned. "She's pretty powerful, huh?"

"Immensely so," Lilith works her jaw a few times, a growl emitting in her words. A warning. "If you ever come across a woman bearing the Emperor's glyph in blood red instead of gold, you run. Don't ever confront her. I don't even think at her best Edalyn could stand a chance against her." She only marginally relaxes at the mention of her sister. "Don't ever let her know I said that. Knowing my sister, she'll take it as a challenge." 

"That does sound like Eda." Luz nodded, face ashen. She breathed in heavily and a familiar scent hit her nose. "Hey, what's that smell?" She sniffed a few more times to confirm she isn't imaging it. 

"Hm?" Lilith straightens from her position, redirecting her attention to the cauldron. "Oh, the potion's complete." She removed the lid and the liquid inside was a shimmering red.

"Wow," Luz peers into the cauldron, her fingers wrapping around the cooled rim as she rises up an inch to get a better view. "It doesn't smell like rotting algae and sewer water anymore." 

Lilith tsked, but smirked at the response. "It is unpleasant in the beginning."

"That's an understatement. It smells so nice now. Like lavender and jasmine. Do you smell it?"

"I do, but it's not the same scent you're inferring to." 

"What do you mean?" Luz realized her mistake a second too late as she looked up at the older woman.

Lilith levels a hard stare straight at her. Knowing the answer already to the question she was asking. "You weren't paying a single attention to the book, were you?"

Luz offers a sheepish smile; eyes casted down to the cauldron. "Uh, maybe?" She honestly replied. There's no point in lying to a potions witch. Really, there's no point in lying to Lilith. 

"It's a calming elixir," Lilith informed, muttering under her breath about more rigorous tutoring sessions before continuing on. "The scent is different for everyone and it can easily change for one person. Whatever comforts you the most will be the most recurring scent." 

"What comforts you the most." Luz repeated, her brows furrowing in thought. Lavender and jasmine was Lilith's scent. Her heart pounded in equal measures wonderment and a wrongness that terrifies her. She expected to catch whiffs of her mami, but the scent wasn't changing in the slightest as she continued to breathe it in. What if she's forgotten what she smells like? The calming elixir kept the panic at bay. And no matter the guilt gnawing a hole in her gut, Luz eagerly let the scent wash over her. 

"It helped me through some particularly rough patches in my years," Lilith mused, temporarily disrupting the teen's inner turmoil. "Suppose it doesn't help I've never liked how sleep remedies made feel in the morning, so this turned out to be a decent substitute." 

Luz kept her eyes on the cauldron. "What scent comforts you the most?" She asked, her voice whisper soft. 

Lilith was silent for a long time, so much so Luz thought she crossed a line with the older woman. Then she softly chuckled. "I thought it was obvious."

Tilting her head up, Luz couldn't keep the bafflement from twisting her features. "How so?"

"I'll give you a hint. She's the very source of my every annoyance, but she's what I fight so desperately for."

Lilith's eyes are shimmering with affection when they meet hers, all the love she kept sealed up for Eda shining through for Luz to see. It stirred an ache in her. "Eda, huh?" She pushed the hurt down, uncomprehending why it was so painful in the first place. 

The older woman frowned, the love only meant for Eda vanishing behind her concernment for Luz. "Luz, you're pale," Her hand is hesitantly held out, as if she wants to touch Luz's cheek, before she drops it. "Are you feeling alright?"

Luz shakily smiled. "I'm okay," She reassured. She swallows down some emotion she can't decipher. "Can I have some of this?"

Lilith smiled, so soft Luz felt her shoulders drooping of their own accord. A welcomed anesthetic to the pain in her chest. "Of course you can. It was made for you." Luz's heart leapt in joy. Lilith made it for her. And it quickly plummeted when Lilith continued. "I've noticed you've been having trouble sleeping again."

Ah. There it is. The conversation Lilith was hinting towards earlier. 

The teen's eyes trained down to the assortment of jars and away from Lilith's all knowing gaze. "And so what if I have?" Luz fidgeted, picking non-existent lint from her purple hoodie before balling her hands into fists in her lap. "You haven't been sleeping." 

Lilith wasn't fazed. "The curse keeps me awake most nights," She said; the tone of her voice brooked no room for argument. "You, on the other hand, are a different story."

Luz kept quiet. Not today. Today she wasn't going to cry. She was fine. She needed to be fine. Just one normal day. Please. 

Lilith knew. She always knew. "I'm never going to force you to talk to me, Luz," Lilith lowered her head to catch the downcast eyes of the teen, effortlessly capturing Luz's full attention, her gaze instinctively locking on those heterochromatic eyes. "Just know I'm here whenever you're ready to talk; whenever you need me, okay? You're not alone, remember?"

Luz opened her mouth to respond but a slam was heard behind them. The teen jumped in alarm, while Lilith's soft smile swiftly fell from her lips and Luz was reintroduced to the blank stare that she likes to refer to as Lilith's default expression. Luz frowned at the sight of it. She's grown so accustomed to the subtle shifts in her face the teen can't say she's a real fan of the nothingness she sees now. 

Eda strolls into the kitchen, the edges of her mouth drawn down into a sneer. Her movements are jerky, anger radiating off her in waves. "Here, kid," She unceremoniously drops a slumbering King into Luz's unsuspecting arms, the teen scrambling to get a grip around the demon before he drops to the floor. "Take him and go to your room. Lils and I need to have a little chat."

"Eda," Luz warned, a threat clear in the shift of her stance. Her eyes narrowed ominously. "I'm not leaving if you two are going to destroy the kitchen. Again."

"Don't worry," Eda teased, a roll of her eyes following as she easily hoists the teen off the breakfast table with King still gripped in her arms. She carefully sets Luz down. "I'm not going to break your new favorite toy."

"Lilith's not a toy, Eda." Luz argued. She still didn't make any move to leave the kitchen.

"It's fine, Luz." Lilith said, her voice dissonantly calm. "I'll get these bottled for you. Run along now."

Mahogany eyes briefly glanced at the aggravated tension still clinging to her mentor; then to the eerily calm of the elder Clawthorne. She chewed her lip in indecisiveness. Leaving them alone didn't settle well in her stomach, but Lilith's barely noticeable tilt of the head commanded her feet to head out of the kitchen. She only glanced back over her shoulder when she passed the threshold, the sisters now locked in a stare down. She prayed to whoever was listening that the house would still be in one piece later and headed up the stairs. 

//

Head tilted, Eda waited until the sound of her apprentice's footsteps faded up the stairs before addressing her sister with the full force of her ire. "It was a waste of my time," She spat, yanking a chair out from under the breakfast table with a horrible screech as it dragged on the floor. "A complete fucking waste of my time." She ungracefully fell into the chair, tilting it back on its hindlegs. 

"Language, Edalyn," Lilith scolded, the words rolling so effortlessly off her tongue it might as well be second nature to her. The lines of annoyance marring her neutral features satisfied the child-like part of Eda (Lily was just too easy to rile up). She leveled her sister with a stare Eda was all too familiar with, a healthy dose of exasperation and hopelessness at her sister's antics. "And I gathered as much. What happened?" 

Eda craned her neck at an angle, breaking their connection to stare at the ceiling like it was the source of her irritation. "A whole lot of nothing, that's what happened." She drummed her fingers on the table, unaware of the pair of eyes watching the movement. "Not a single soul, it seems, on the Isles knows anything of another portal to the human realm."  

"Someone must know something." Lilith argued.

"Well, no one knows anything," Eda countered. The chair slammed down hard on the ground as Eda righted it back into position. She pointed an accusatory finger at her sister, who snapped her eyes up to the offending appendage with a widened gaze. "I even went to the library, Lily. The library. Me." She threw her arms out in exaggeration, catching her sister's eyes following one of her hands. It seemed she was still not quite over the occasional detachment of her little sister's body parts. Eda considered messing with her before disregarding it. Later. 

"Oh, the horrors." Lilith flatly stated, tearing her eyes off Eda's hand.

"It was."

"Is the library still standing?"

"Regrettably."

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose, a surefire sign of her creeping annoyance, and breathed heavily. She leant most of her weight against the side of the breakfast table and folded her arms over her chest. "How should we proceed from here then?" She inquired, more to the room than to her sister. 

Eda's amused grin fell from her face. "I don't know what else to do, Lily." She said, sighing. "I don't know how to get her home."

Lilith hummed. "I could try speaking to a few of my acquaintances in the Emperor's Coven," She supplied, unfolding her arms as she pushed off the table. "Someone is bound to know something. Or at least heard of another portal." 

Eda gritted her teeth. "No," She snarled. "I'm not letting you endanger yourself for this." 

"Edalyn-"

"No, Lily. They can't be trusted. You should know this by now."

Lilith looked down at her with an eerie sense of calm. As crafty as her elder sister likes to think she is, Lilith can't hide from her little sister, the hurt and guilt so palpable in her eyes Eda felt it in her own chest; knocking the breath right out of her. Harming Lilith was the last thing Eda ever wanted to do, she's not a monster, but her sister was deceptively naïve when it came to the coven she cherishes so much, even now. After everything they've been through with Belos, Lilith still held some notion he was doing it for the betterment of the Isles. Eda couldn't fault her for it, either. Not really. Someone can't change the way they think overnight. It'll take time and a lot of setbacks to reset the way Lilith sees the Emperor and his shamble of a coven system.

She can't change her sister's views, she's accepted that, but she'll be damned if she's going to just let her sister walk straight into the arms of the enemy. Lilith might be the eldest, but Eda has always been the protector. That hasn't changed. 

Eda turned to look out the window, a swell of fierce protectiveness pushed against her breastbone; the cursed form answering in tandem with a roar in the back of her conscience. Her shoulders dropped with an unspoken I'm sorry. Her gaze swept the land surrounding her home as she listened to the sound of Lilith moving away and rummaging around the kitchen for spare jars, the I understand in her sigh. 

The movement stalled momentarily, a creak of the cabinet opening the only source of sound before: "How did you come across the one Luz destroyed? Maybe we can start there." Lilith inquired as an olive branch, a huff in her breath. Most likely from the weight of the box of jars she found, if the scraping sound was any indicator, Eda mused. Or annoyance. Eda wasn't curious enough to bother finding out. 

Eda hummed. "Don't know."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Eda couldn't contain the cackle. She couldn't help it even if she tried. She slapped the table with the palm of her hand as she bent over and clutched her side with her other arm. "Ah, Lily," She breathed out between chuckles, immensely enjoying the growl emitting from her sister. "The kid's really rubbing off on you." 

"She what? What does that even mean?"

Eda cackled all the harder. She couldn't breathe. "It's an expression, Lily," Her ribs ached as she struggled to catch her breath. "What do you think it means? No, really, I wanna know. Ha."

"No, and your deflections are as immeasurably trying as I remember."

"Aw, sorry to say, sister dear, but flattery will get you nowhere." 

"Quit deflecting, Edalyn."

Wiping away the tears gathered in her eyes, Eda leaned up and looked over at her incensed sister. Lilith was flushed to the tips of her pointed ears, a glower firmly etched into her features. Unlike Luz, Eda wasn't so merciful. "You know," She drawled, her lips curving further up in amusement when Lilith's eyes narrow in suspicion. "I think you like Luz more than you want me to believe. Why else would you be so adamant about getting her home?" 

Lilith spluttered. She accidentally slammed the box of jars down harder than she intended on the table. It made her flush all the worst. "We're not doing this," She demanded, her jaw lined with an obvious tension. "How do you not know where you came across the portal? Answer."

"Like I said," Eda murmured, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest. "Don't know how I came across it. One second I'm the owl beast; the next  I've got a key to another realm hanging out of my mouth. And the worst case of morning breath of my life. Yeesh."

"You're joking."

"Never with you, Lils." 

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose. Again. "So, we're right back to where we started then."

"You betcha."

Lilith visibly deflated. It tugged at Eda's heartstrings. Revealing a weakness was not a trait Eda associated her sister with. She was up and moving before she even registered it, her arms encircling her elder sister's waist from behind. She propped her chin on her shoulder; felt the the stiffness at the unexpected contact in her sister's whole frame. Lilith's hands shot up and cinched around her forearms. "Hey," Eda soothed, her voice a soft purr. Aware her sister was awfully awkward with affection. "I'm not giving up on this. You're right; someone out there knows something. We just need to find them." 

"This is all my fault," Lilith choked, clutching desperately to Eda's forearms. Her sharp nails pricked her skin, but Eda remained still, her heart constricting painfully in her chest at the sheer agony in Lilith's voice. How many nights has she lied awake blaming herself? How many had Lilith? "If I had just listened to you none of this would have happened."

Eda shook her head, her chin brushing against the cotton material of her sister's sweater, and blew out an uneven breath. "None of that now," She muttered, snuggling closer to Lilith to offer all the reassurance physically possible of her. "If we're going to play the blame game, I'm winning by a landslide. I let Luz stay. I knew the risks. I knew Belos wanted the portal. All me, Lily."

If I never threatened her life," Lilith vehemently swore, still gripped so tightly by her guilt she couldn't comprehend a word her little sister said. Couldn't fathom how it could ever be Eda's fault. "You'd still have the portal and your magic, Edalyn. She would have been able to go home." 

"You don't know that," Eda argued as fiercely as her sister. "I would have slipped at some point. Got caught. The only saving grace I had last time was you and Luz." 

"As if I'd let anyone harm you." The snarl in Lilith's voice was far more welcomed to the broken one she heard seconds ago. More reminiscent of the Lilith she knew. "Not like I did."

Eda's lips twisted into a sly smile. "That's cute, Lily." She patted her sister's stomach, ignoring the squawk of protest it earned her. "Alright, no more of this blaming ourselves game. We're in this together now. We'll figure it out and get Luz home."  

Lilith loosened her grip but didn't completely release her hold on Eda's forearms. "And you say Luz, what was it, rubbed off on me?" She attempted to joke, the scratchy quality of her voice betraying the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "She's made you far more cuddlier than I remember you being."

Eda hummed, noncommittally, a gentle chuckle softening the rigidness in Lilith's shoulders. She peered down at the cauldron, a sudden recall of Lilith mentioning to Luz she'd bottle the shimmering red liquid for her. She took a whiff and caught traces of vanilla and cinnamon. "Is that a calming elixir? What's Luz need it for?"

The rigidness returned, though Lilith attempted to hide it by rolling her shoulders. "It's for her class. She was struggling on her own, so I lent my assistance."

Ah, there it is. The lie. Eda pursed her lips together in silent deliberation, the protectiveness further swelling; the beast in its cage roaring and thrashing. She unconsciously tightened her hold on her sister, the soft gasp falling on deaf ears. Whatever was going on between Luz and Lilith, it appeared they were under the assumption Eda was oblivious to it. How could they expect her not to see the dark circles under their eyes, the loss of light in Luz's smiles, the secretive glances the two share? Her reconciliation with her sister is still fresh and it's opened her eyes to a sight she didn't particularly like. Was something wrong? Did they think Eda couldn't help? Were they ever going to tell her?  

Eda closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, her sister's achingly familiar scent engulfing her senses. Titans, what she would give to return to their younger years, when the only thing that ever mattered to her was invading her sister's personal space and launching into a spiel about her latest prank. To turn back the clock and fix what was broken in her elder sister before it ever happened. She internally struggled with the concept of keeping her mouth shut about this latest situation. Cornering Lilith in the past had only ever given Eda harsh glares and spiteful words; Luz couldn't be any different if her dear, emotionally stunted Lily was her source of comfort right now. Waiting was all Eda could do at the moment; no matter how much the thought of it scared her. That she could lose Luz; lose Lilith again. Eventually, something will have to give. Eda refused to be alone again. 

A soft nuzzle against her midnight blue hair and Eda finally, reluctantly, removes herself from Lilith, the elder's fingertips dragging against the skin of her arms; briefly tightening, as if she didn't want Eda to leave just let, before letting her go. She moves to stand at her sister's side, carefully lifting a jar. "I'm sure the kid won't mind if I steal one these, yeah?" She murmured, humming to herself as she filled the jar. I'll play ignorant for now, Lily. But only for so long. I won't let this destroy my family. 

Lilith watched her, clearly trying to sort through her emotions. "I'm sure she wouldn't." She confirmed. She focused back on filling the jars.

"You know," Eda started, drawing away from her sorrowed thoughts. Her jar was set off to the side as she ran her hands behind her neck with a long, drawn out breath. "This means the cure for the curse won't take precedence anymore."

Lilith paused. "I'm fully aware." And then resumed her task. 

"Is she worth it to you?"

"She's more than worth it to me."

//

It's later in the evening Lilith finds herself the center of everyone's amusement. Again. 

She's pressed against the back of the couch, her legs tucked under her and a flush on her cheeks. She's dispelled the magic on her eyes, her rounded glasses perched on her nose. Edalyn's head is currently occupying her lap as she cackles and snorts, her face burying itself into Lilith's stomach. A part of Lilith dares her to push her sister off the couch, while another basks in the physical comfort Edalyn unknowingly provides her. Obviously, the other half of her wins her over; selfishly enjoying what's being offered. 

King, the wretched demon, is spewing out insults left and right, amping up the awful cackling of her little sister. He's standing atop the low table, his paw pointed at Lilith. The older woman might have contemplated firing a spell his way if Luz's soft laughter wasn't also mixed into the situation. Her ears are attuned to the sound, a warmth settling in her chest. Even if it's at her expense, she's pleased to hear the sound. It's not everyday the human has the will to laugh so freely. 

Luz scoops up King and deposits him into her lap, silencing the insults in an instant. "Wow," She's still giggling as she speaks, hugging King close to her chest. "You weren't joking about your handwriting being atrocious." 

"I told you I don't joke." Lilith mused, her fingers briefly scratching her sister's scalp as she settled down. The flush on her cheeks was, thankfully, cooling off. 

"You're lucky the Emperor's Coven doesn't check for penmanship," King remarked and Lilith frowned at the annoyance. "Or you would have been canned a long time ago."

Edalyn snorted. "Ha. That's a good one," She lowered her voice as she spoke again. "We love your enthusiasm, cursing your sister is a real crowd pleaser. But, oh darn, your handwriting is just not what we're looking for. Sorry." 

Luz lit up, joining in. "Try again next year, champ! Maybe hire someone to help with...um, well, good luck with that."

"You might as well be part demon," King enthused. "That's how awful it is."

Edalyn snorted again and rolled over to face the other two occupants. "It's not that bad," She defended, and Lilith smiled before her sister continued with: "Kid Lily, on the other hand, was definitely part demon." Her smile faded into a frown in an instant.

Lilith flicked her sister's ear, earning a squawked ouch and a glare leveled her way. Another scratch to her scalp and Edalyn was instantly placated, her hand curling around Lilith's thigh. "I really don't see the humor in criticizing my handwriting." Lilith frowned. Pouted, more like. But she'd never admit it. 

Luz giggled. “Eres tan perfecto que es difícil creer que tu letra sea horrible.”

"What does being perfect have anything to do with penmanship?" Lilith questioned. 

A silence fell over the room. Edalyn and King gawked at each other, blinking owlishly. And Luz was briefly surprised before a bright smile lit up her face, pride and pleased warmth in her mahogany eyes.

"The fuck?!"

"Edalyn!"

Chapter Text

To Luz, Knetwell was painted in various shades of gray. 

In other words, it was dreary.

Knetwell is, as Eda once described it in her best imitation of a posh tone, the snooty side of the Boiling Isles, located just off the northeastern side of Bonesborough; it was here the mass majority of the Isles’ most prestigious witches and demons resided. The town itself was styled in a monochromatic scheme of hard metallic steel shops and smoothly paved roads -a stark contrast to Bonesborough’s more dense, medieval-style. 

Compared to Bonesborough, where life was breathed into its very foundation and the people residing there, Knetwell is, for lack of a better word, dead. It's only source of life is found in the weak sunlight shimmering across the windows of every building; Luz surmised it wouldn’t be long before even that is gone -if the dark clouds rolling in were of any judgement. 

Even its people were listless. In Bonesborough, merchants were always shouting over one another to draw customers to their stands in the market (Eda having been one of them), but Knetwell’s merely observed the sea of passing bodies with a dullness in their eyes. Everyone moved with a set destination in mind in the town’s square; not a soul curiously peering into any of the small shops’ windows or the merchants’ stands to admire their wares. It was eerie.

Still, the artist in Luz catalogued everything in her sights for future references. It was clear to see Knetwell was crafted with a set purpose intended in its construction; Luz noted the certain sort of beauty beneath the functionality. It was an artificial one, of course, but if she squinted hard enough, she could almost make out its individual characteristics. 

Almost. She found the swankiness of it all ruined the effect, honestly. 

And speaking of swanky. In comparison to her jeans, black long-sleeved shirt, and black cloak, the hood drawn up to hide her ears from prying eyes, the sight of the well-dressed residents of the town bypassing her lent Luz a disagreeable sensation that she didn’t particularly care for. Their gazes seared her skin, as if they can tell by sight alone she doesn’t belong here. It added an unsettling feeling atop the uncertainty already swimming in her gut. It reminded her of the kids back home, who thought she was too weird to be around. 

Luz strolled closer to her only source of familiarity: Lilith. The older woman was by her side, a graceful sway in her long strides as they made their way through the throng of the mid-day commute. Luz traced the outline of the elder Clawthrorne’s profile with her eyes. Lilith looked... well, she looked like she belonged here amongst the influential. Gone was the oversized sweater and legging combo Luz had grown accustomed to - preferred even; replaced by a pristine white button down shirt tucked into a pair of black trousers that disappeared under a pair of equally pristine leather boots. A similar cloak to Luz’s was draped over her shoulders and held together by a silver raven brooch, though she kept the hood drawn down. It cut her figure nicely, Luz admitted; easily blending her in with the high society. Luz wondered if Lilith was previously living here before the Owl House. 

She might’ve asked if her thoughts didn’t trail off in a puff of air; her head snapping away from Lilith and in the direction of glittering bronze standing out amongst the shades of gray. There, perched on a cafe’s empty table across the street, was a bronze metal cobra; Luz got the creepy sensation it was following her with its beady eyes. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped walking until she noticed from her peripheral Lilith quickly turning left and heading up a street. 

Wait. In typical Luz Noceda fashion, Luz tripped over her own feet in her haste to keep from losing the older woman in the crowd, and she nearly careened straight into an older man’s path in the process. His snarled comment on her clumsiness was of little concern to the teen, too ensnared by the fear of being separated from Lilith to apologize in her usual manner.

She rounded the corner, the sight of an empty alleyway greeting her stirring the panic in the back of her head. Luckily, she caught the tail end of Lilith’s cloak disappearing around another corner up ahead. She raced after her, chest heaving as she cut the corner a little too harshly, before her brain short circuited at the influx of colors assaulting her senses. 

Her feet stalled in an instant.

The drab grays of Knetwell’s town square gave way to redbrick houses lined down the narrow street on either side; each one of them holding their own little charm that Luz had been seeking out back in the square. Not-a-one had a front yard to really speak of, but the potted plants housed on windowsills created the illusion of living out of the central part of town. And the clinking of windchimes in the wind drowned out the monotone voices of the bustling crowd that floated down from the alleyway at her back. It was such a stark difference Luz had to wonder if she was even still in Knetwell anymore. 

She spotted Lilith further up the street, her feet moving on instinct to rejoin her side. Except she barely made it one step before a pained cry was wrenched from her throat. 

Someone had grabbed her wrist.

Alarmed, Luz turned and her hood threatened to fall back at the sudden movement. Coming face to face with her assailant, Luz's eyes widened at the golden pair meeting her own with an anger burning in them. It was the older man she nearly ran into. Her mouth moved to speak, but his grip tightened around her wrist and she whimpered instead. 

He yanked her further back into the alley. Luz’s mind went racing in panic and fear. It clouded her thoughts to the point she couldn't even find it in her to reach for one of the glyphs stowed in her back pocket. She choked on a scream; Lilith’s name searing a path down her throat. 

Her back was shoved roughly into a wall. “I’ve never seen you around here before, child. What's your name? Who are your parents?" He snarled with suspicion rumbling in his deep baritone; his grip growing tighter with every word. "They did a poor job raising you, that’s for certain. Did they not teach you to respect your elders?" 

Luz didn’t hear a word he spat at her, her eyes frantically searching around her for any sign of Lilith. Her mouth opened, her tongue fumbling to voice her words, but she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She was petrified, her entire frame trembling in fear. Tears burned her eyes. Have I always been this weak? Where’s Lilith? Did she leave me? Please, don’t leave me. She squeezed her eyes shut-

"I'd release her if I were you." 

-and abruptly snapped them open at the sound of the sweet, melodic voice. She whirled her head to face the source of it at the same time as the older man. 

A woman the same height as Luz stood at the entrance to the alleyway, clad in a burgundy dress that was cinched at the waist, accentuating her hourglass figure. Her abundance of green curls were tucked away by a wide brimmed hat the same color as her dress, and her eyes were the same shade of gold as the older man’s own pair, - seriously, what is with witches and gold eyes?- but they were so much warmer, like molten gold. A calm smile never once left her in the face of the brute sneering down at her. 

The man’s whole demeanor shifted at the sight of her. His lips curled into a sneer disguised as a smile. "This isn’t of any concern to you, Rime.” So poised was his tone Luz questioned if a snarl had really been present when he spoke to her seconds ago. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The woman -Rime, Luz corrected- only smiled wider as she calmly replied. “Well, you’re right, it’s certainly no real concern of mine,” smooth like honey was the best description Luz had of Rime’s voice; the pitch higher and more feminime than the Clawthorne sisters’ more smokish drawls. Her chin tilted up as she went on, “but if I were you, I’d be concerned about her.”

Luz looked over the woman’s shoulder. Her heart leapt into her throat in sudden relief. It was Lilith. And either the older man recognized her face or was scared senseless by the livid expression she wore, by the cold fury in her heterochromatic eyes, by the violent intent bleeding out of her hurried pace, but his hand was wrenched from her wrist and was storming back down the alley before Lilith even made it halfway to them. 

The teen kept her eyes on him until he disappeared around the corner leading back to the town’s square. Might have let her gaze linger a little longer if her head wasn’t suddenly turned back around, a pair of cold fingers against her chin directing her to face Lilith’s concerned eyes. Luz almost leapt completely off the ground out of fright; a heat bloomed in her cheeks in embarrassment at her reaction. 

Not my fault Lilith is so damn fast, she groaned inwardly. 

“Are you alright?” Lilith breathed, a raw edge of panic in her voice. She was none the wiser to the flush creeping over Luz’s cheeks as her eyes and hands roamed over the teen’s body for any signs of injuries. “Did he hurt you?” Her panicking flat-lined into anger as she growled. “If he so much as-”

Luz intervened before Lilith could finish her threat. “Yes, I’m fine, everything’s fine,” she replied, regaining her composure, despite the throbbing in her wrist. She decided in a split second it was best to keep that quiet, because a promise of murder was in Lilith’s eyes. 

Anything Lilith might have said was stopped by a soft laughter. Like bells in the wind.

“Ah,” Luz could hear the smile in Rime’s melodic tone, her mahogany eyes gravitating to the woman like a moth to a flame. “I figured she must have been yours, Lily dear.” Her smile turned wry. “She has your flush.”

Unsurprisingly, it was impossible to miss the blush that crept onto the older woman’s cheeks. She let her gaze sweep over Luz one last time, seemingly appeased she found no harm to her charge, and took a step back from her personal space. Her sharp gaze cut to the other woman. “You could have lent her some assistance instead of just standing there.” The growl rumbled in her throat. That same threat was in her tone. 

Rime feigned hurt. “She was hardly in any danger,” a smile was in her reply, so much so Luz wondered if there ever wasn’t. “You were already on your way when I located her, and if something were to happen before you arrived, obviously I would’ve aided her.” Her smile turned coy. “Has motherhood turned you so distrustful of me, Lily dear?”

Lilith gaped at her. “You know she isn’t my child,” she spluttered. “She doesn’t even look like me.”

Rime’s coy smile turned gleeful, ever so slightly widening; ignoring Lilith as if she’s done it her whole life. “Then she takes after her father,” she exclaimed excitedly, clearly reveling in Lilith’s displeased anguish. “Or her other mother. I do recall men were never of your fancy.” 

Lilith flushed again. “She’s not mine, Elara.” 

“You keep telling yourself that, love,” Rime -or Elara - quipped. “But I must say, she is quite the cutie. Kudos to you, dear.” 

What, Luz’s eyes darted from Lilith to Rime, and back. Is happening here?

It took her by surprise, the jolt of envy she found herself feeling as she watched their interaction, that is; so unaccustomed to Lilith at ease around another soul that wasn’t her sister, that wasn’t her. She frowned, unconsciously shifting closer to Lilith’s side, her eyes narrowing at the other woman she so suddenly didn’t want to like. It was hard not to, too. Rime -or Elara - just radiated a warmth Luz wanted to bask in. Was that why Lilith was so at ease around her?

“Oh, how rude of me,” lips still curled into a smile, Rime set her sights onto Luz, the warm amber of her eyes effortlessly drawing the teen in. She really, really hated that. “My name is Elara Rime,” she held her hand out toward Luz. “And you must be Luz.”

Luz ignored her hand. “How do you know my name?” She asked her slowly, voice edged in hostility, with an undertone of suspicion. 

“That would be me,” Lilith answered, her eyes widening at the sharp look Luz threw her way. “I sent a message letting her know we were headed here, remember?” 

Luz looked at her curiously; then it clicked. “Wait, you mean she’s...” Her words trailed off as she locked gazes with Elara. The woman was still smiling. Still warm. It had to be the work of magic. There’s no way it was possible for someone to be so cheery all the time. 

“The very one,” Lilith confirmed. “Meet Elara Rime, renowned healer of the Boiling Isles.”

Elara mocked curtsy. “It’s my utmost pleasure to be at your service.” She shot up, quickly heading back out onto the street. She called out to them over her shoulder. “Shall we?” 

Luz was lost for a moment -sincerely and utterly confused. "That’s who’s going to help me?” She let herself stare blankly at the other woman before gazing up at Lilith. “You sure you got the right healer? She seems very...”

“Eccentric?” Lilith supplied.

“ ...bubbly.” Luz finished. 

Lilith stifled a laugh. “Well, yes, I suppose bubbly works, too.” She turned on her heel and started walking, and Luz scrambled to keep up with her. She was not losing her again. “Actually,” Lilith added, slowing her pace for the teen to rejoin her side. “She reminds me of you.”

Luz stopped in her tracks. Really, how was she supposed to respond to that?

//

Stepping into Elara’s house was like stepping into a different world. 

Elara Rime’s home was very much like the woman herself: warm and inviting. They were met with a floral-like scent and aged wood, mixed with the warm aroma of something that resembled a steaming cup of earl grey tea. The floral scent, Luz realized, came from the house plants meticulously scattered around the living space, from hanging down the ceiling to covering any flat surface available to them, like the wall-to-wall bookshelves and the end tables on either side of a couch; even the coffee table wasn’t safe from their mass invasion. One wall, the wall that faced the outside of the redbrick houses street, was entirely made from glass, and the view it granted was ethereal; the everblooming garden in the backyard something straight out of a fairytale. 

The dark furniture and mahogany hardwood floors gave the space a richly warm feeling instead of dark and depressing -even as the dark clouds blocked the sun and kept any natural light from filling the living room. Unlike the Owl House, Elara’s home was more like an open-floor concept, the dark granite island with its dark wood cabinets separating the small kitchen from the rest of the main area, and a staircase at the end of a small hallway that wasn’t far from the front door led to what Luz assumed were Elara’s bedrooms. Breathing in the smells of various flora and tea leaves, Luz felt like a warm blanket was draped over her and all her worries were smothered down and silenced. 

Luz shuffled awkwardly into the house and looked around with wide eyes, while Lilith strolled further into the space like she’s been here a thousand times. “There’s something else I failed to mention in my message about Luz.” She explained as her jaw clenched, her lips thinning into a frown. 

“Unless you’re going to tell me she’s actually your illegitimate child with a lover, which I’d be hurt you didn’t tell me about,” Elara quipped over her shoulder as she strolled around her granite island to enter her small kitchen. “I already know she’s human.” She grabbed a kettle and set it over the stove, a flame flickering to life with a wave of her finger. “Anyone care for a cup of tea?”

She said it so casually Luz felt her mouth drop open in shock. Lilith, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of her nose -most likely in exasperation of the illegitimate child comment-, but showed no other sign of being surprised. “How did you know?” Luz asked, a fearful expression on her face. Did my hood fall? Were my ears showing? She flicked her gaze to Lilith, hoping beyond hope the older woman wouldn’t be mad at her for the blunder. 

Elara waved her hand. “It’s quite simple, sweetie,” she chortled. “What other reason would there need to be of a message sent, briefly explaining to me Lily dear has a child in need of a healer’s services, refrain from going into too much detail, and risk being arrested by bringing her here to Knetwell just to see me?” She met Luz’s gaze before flicking to Lilith. “Lilith is a skilled potionist; so, logically, the only reason there could be she’s unsure if our healing brews won’t kill you because your system is different from ours.” 

Luz gaped at her. Just gaped. Mouth still wide open.

“Am I wrong?” Asked Elara, coyly. 

Lilith responded for Luz. “You’re not,” she mused, her lips curling into a warm smile Luz is floored by. It’s wiped away just as quickly as she added, “Luz’s human biology concerns me. I don’t know how the remedies will affect her, and you’re the only healer I know who’s studied human medicine.” 

“It is a delightful past-time of mine.”

“How I will never know.”

“Well, you’re caring for a human child now. I’d start learning, if I were you.”

“Right,” Lilith muttered. She faced Luz, her soft smile effortlessly surfacing. “Elara’s the best for a reason, Luz,” she promised, stepping closer to the teen to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “You have nothing to fear with her.” 

Luz nodded. “I’m not afraid,” liar. “I’m more worried about how Eda’s going to take this.” That was at least the truth. 

Lilith said nothing for a moment, her features a blank mask, but Luz saw the grief flare in her eyes. “You let me worry about Edalyn,” she said, squeezing her shoulder one last time before letting her go. “Now, I have some business I need to take care of,” she turned on her heel to head back to the door; to leave Luz alone with the always smiling healer. “I’ll return shortly to collect you, Luz.”

Leave? She’s leaving? Why do you keep leaving me? In one swift motion, Luz was by her side, her fingers instinctively cinching themselves around the sleeve of Lilith’s shirt in some childish need of comfort. “Do you have to leave?” It was meant to be a question, but Luz heard the begging in her tone. Please don’t leave me alone with the psychiatrist. That’s what she is, right? She briefly wondered if the Boiling Isles even had psychiatrists.

Lilith blinked in surprise and looked down at her, staring at her as if she sprouted an antenna at the top of her head. She might as well have with how needy she’s being. “I can stay,” she deliberated after a moment of considered thought. A disappointment briefly flashed in her eyes; something stung Luz in the chest by the idea Lilith was disappointed in her. “If you need me here, I can stay.” 

She wanted Lilith to stay. Dios, did she ever want Lilith to stay. But she didn’t want Lilith to think of her as weak; unable to fight her own battles. She wanted to be strong for her; prove she was capable of functioning alone. And with that, she released the older woman’s shirt and took a forced step back. She shook her head, tilting her chin down.  “No, I got this.” I don’t, I don’t. Stay.

Lilith’s brow furrowed in concern and her gaze flitted around the room before settling back on Luz. A thumb and finger hooked under her chin, coaxing her head upward, until her eyes met Lilith’s heterochromatic pair. Her expression softened. “If you do find yourself in need of me,” she murmured softly, releasing Luz’s chin to grab ahold of her uninjured hand. “I’m only a call away.”

Luz slowly looked down at her hand, and her eyes widened as Lilith’s fingertips left her skin to reveal the sight of a little white raven resting in the palm of her hand. She carefully cradled it like her life depended on it. “Merely squeeze it and say my name, and I’ll be by your side in a flash.” She instructed, leveling one last affectionate smile her way before her features sharpened. “And you,” she growled, the threat rolling off her tongue as she looked at the other woman over Luz’s shoulder. “If anything happens to her, trust me, you will not like the consequences.”

“She’ll be fine, Lily dear,” unaffected, Elara waved her off. “She’s safe with me.”

“You better pray she is.”

With the click of the door, Lilith was gone. Luz was left alone to stare down the person responsible for fixing her. 

//

“So,” Elara cheerily announced after a long silence; brushing off Luz’s scowl like she’s seen it all before, which is entirely possible if she knew Lilith, who was the queen of scowls. “What’s your secret?”

Luz stared at her, utterly baffled. “Uh, my what?” 

“Your secret to Lilith, sweetie,” Elara elaborated, rounding her island with two mugs of steaming tea in her hands. “It’s not an easy feat worming one’s way into her heart.” She set them down on the freed space of her coffee table before glancing back at Luz. “As I’m sure you know.”

Luz nodded. “She doesn’t make it easy,” she said, eyeing the other woman with a curious expression on her face. Lilith’s warm smile had awoken a barrage of questions the teen wanted answers for. She’s never seen it before. “She likes to be difficult about it.”

“Emotions and Lilith have never seen eye-to-eye, I’m afraid. To most, she’s too much of a challenge. Why bother to love someone they believe doesn’t have the capability to love them back?”

Luz wasn’t sure what she should say, so she just kept her mouth shut. A shrug was her only response. How does one even answer that? Luz wasn’t even certain herself. To Luz, loving Lilith was as natural as breathing -once she got past her defensive barriers, that is; saw the mirrored image of herself in the depths of Lilith’s soul. She saw someone who wanted to be loved. And love her Luz could do. How couldn’t anyone else see that?

Elara’s smile was unfazed by the noncommittal answer as she stepped closer. At Luz’s flinch, she paused before lifting a hand, palm up. “I’m sorry, may I see your wrist? Targon’s grip looked pretty tight back there in the alley. I just want to make sure it isn’t sprained.” 

She cringed. She had hoped everyone forgot about the incident in the alley. “You’re not going to tell Lilith, are you?” 

“I will only promise if you let me take a peek.”

Luz sighed dejectedly. “But it doesn’t hurt.” Lie, was hissed in her ear; nonetheless, she acquiesced to the healer’s soft command and lifted her arm for inspection. “He didn’t grab me that hard.” Lie, lie, lie.  

“Be that as it may,” Elara said, that ever present smile in her voice unwavering in the face of the teen’s disgruntlement. “I’d rather not have Lilith storming into my home in the middle of the night because her child was, in fact, hurt here in Knetwell and I did nothing.”

Luz watched as her hand gently coiled around her wrist; her touch ever so careful as she examined the finger shaped bruises on her wrist, which revealed themselves when her sleeve slipped down. She paused, her feather light touch stilling, and a coy smile shaped her lips. “Or maybe I do. She’s adorable when she’s angry, isn’t she?”

Luz dragged oxygen into her lungs; then burst into laughter. She wheezed, so surprised by the comment she nearly choked on her bubbling laugh. This she wasn’t expecting. She expected her wrist to ache when Elara twisted it in a different direction -it didn’t. She expected Elara to jump straight into discussing Luz’s problems -she wasn’t. 

“Yeah,” she replied, continuing to laugh. “I don’t know what’s cuter: her angry face or King’s squeak of rage.”

Elara released her wrist, the loss of her warmth leaving behind a numbed sort of tingling sensation. “So Eda still has King living with her?” She grinned and drew away. “Well, good news is your wrist isn’t sprained. But it is bruised; so I’d take it easy if I were you.”

Laughter halted, Luz gaped at her. “You know Eda?”

“Of course,” she replied. A  dark leather wingback chair was set adjacent to the couch; Elara gracefully settled into it, her tiny figure dwarfed by the massive chair. She indicated the couch with her eyes to Luz before continuing, “our parents were close friends and neighbors, so naturally we were friends.” 

“You were friends?” Perched at the edge of the couch, Luz’s posture was hunched, hands in her lap, shoulders slanting in an unsettled manner. Her eyes darted around the room as she kept the door in her sights in case the conversation shifted in a direction she wasn’t yet prepared for. “But Lilith called you an acquaintance of hers.” 

She winced when she realized how callous it sounded. Way to be rude, Noceda. 

“Did she now,” Elara replied lightheartedly. “Leave it to Lilith to call over twenty years of companionship an acquaintanceship.” A slight look of amusement crossed her face. “Then again, I considered them a field study for the longest time. The Clawthorne sisters are a very interesting duo.”

“Sure, if you call destroying a room anytime they argue interesting,” Luz said dryly. She can already see the Owl House in shambles when they return home. 

“They still do that? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You mean this is normal!?!” 

Elara laughed, the sound still like bells in the wind. “I’m afraid so, sweetie. I’d say they’ve hardly changed.” She briefly paused to set her mug on the armrest of her chair. “Well, if you disregard the curse, the lies, the years of isolation from each other. Then, yes, they’re the same.”

Luz blinked, unsure. “They told you what happened?”

Elara’s smile was sympathetic. “No, sweetie, they didn’t,” she answered. She tapped her chin with her finger; her gaze shifted skyward. “I had my suspicions, though.”

“What, uh,” Luz ventured, cautiously. “What confirmed them?”

“It was, hm, Lilith’s eighth year in the coven, I believe, when she showed up on my doorstep at three in the morning,” Elara leveled her with a conspiratorial look. “She wanted everything I had on curses and their cures. If that had been the only thing, I could’ve played it off as simply her sisterly obligation to help Eda. But she was also suddenly so curious about human mental illnesses. It didn’t take me long to realize cursing her sister was all Lilith’s severe anxiety needed to spiral out of control.” 

Luz stared at her openly, not saying a word. A repeat of she knew, she knew, she knew blaring in her head. 

As if she were psychic, Elara stated, “I’m a healer. I was naturally gifted, even as a child, and I hated it then, to be honest. I could see Lilith was weighed down by her expectations to be perfect; by her fears of being left behind,” she exhaled softly, “but I couldn’t help her.” 

“What?!” Luz sprung forward from her spot on the couch, the momentum pushing her too far and smacked her knees against the edge of the coffee table. Her untouched mug of tea rattled against the wood. “I don’t understand,” she shook her head. “If you were so gifted, why couldn’t you help her?” Could this have all been avoided? Did they really have to suffer?

There’s a long pause from the other woman, her demeanor cool in the midst of Luz’s turbulence. “She wouldn’t let me. To Lilith, her fears and anxieties were a weakness.”

“That’s not an excuse not to help her!” Luz looked at her, a defensive rage creeping into her mahogany eyes as she snarled, “you’re one of them, aren’t you?!”

Elara’s expression didn’t waver, but her eyes sharpened ever so slightly. “I’d tread carefully if I were you, dear.”

She went ignored. “How dare you call yourself her friend!” A warning rang in her head as she growled. Her hands balled at her sides as fury exploded within her. “When you’re one of those who thought she was too much of a burden to love!”

The warmth in gold eyes was snuffed in an instant. Luz was stopped cold by what replaced it.

Devastation. Helplessness. Yearning. Devastated by the vacant gnawing of a feeling to see someone she thought would never come back to her, because there was no replacement, no substitute to block the emptiness in her. Helpless because, with all her knowledge and power, it was useless if someone didn’t want it; if they’d rather suffer alone. A hollow soul yearned to be occupied again by another; to fill the hole left in the wake of a desire for someone to stay with her; to not leave her alone.

Lilith. With a sudden clarity, Luz understood. 

Luz opened her mouth, either to rebuke her words or apologize, but Elara merely held a hand up, halting her words in an instant. Taking a sip of her cooling tea, she eyed Luz over the rim of her mug. The disarray of emotions Luz caught sight of locked themselves away once more behind the slowly resurfacing warmth in her eyes. She set her mug down. “If I had chased her, pushed her too far, do you think she would’ve still sought me out at her worst?” She leveled Luz with a blank stare. “Would you?”

No. The panic and pain engraved in jagged lines on pale flesh flashed in Luz’s mind. She squeezed her eyes shut to block it out. “I guess not,” she relented. Her shoulders sagged in defeat as she settled back down at the edge of the couch. Guilt gnawed away at her insides. “Why was it so important to her to be better than Eda?” 

Elara hummed in thought. “Did either of them ever tell you what an Old Blood is?”

Luz blinked her eyes open, a look of bewilderment twisting her features. “A what?”

“An Old Blood. It basically means blood of an old witching family. There are nine families-”

“Like the nine main covens?” Luz interrupted. She winced the second she realized it.

Elara was amused, her smile full of mirth; all traces of her earlier anguish gone , like it had never been there. “Very clever, sweetie,” she praised. “It’s how Emperor Belos first enacted his coven system when he came into power. He appointed the heads of the families as coven leaders in his new order, because not only were the families old as time itself, they were the most powerful witches and masters of specific forms of magic.”

“Woah,” Luz gasped. 

Elara nodded. “I don’t know what was offered for them to so blindly follow the emperor, but I know it was one they couldn’t refuse. Perhaps the word of the Titan was enough to sway them?”

Luz frowned. “But if Belos only came into power fifty years ago…”

“The families are still heads of the main nine covens, yes.” Elara affirmed, rolling her eyes. “A rigged system, if you think about it.” 

Luz blinked. “But what does that have to do with Lilith?” She murmured, brow furrowing. 

“The Clawthornes are one of those families,” she informed, chuckling at the shocked expression Luz could feel sprouting on her face. “Unfortunately, in the last two centuries, the Clawthorne’s bloodline had been dwindling; their future generations nothing more than average witches compared to their ancestors. They were ostracized by the other families;therefore, they were not appointed as head of a coven.”

“Then who took their place?”

“A fraction of the Blight family, I believe.” Another sip of tea. “I’m sure you can imagine the betrayal and the embarrassment the Clawthornes must have felt to be left in the dust.” Elara hummed. “They’ve held onto that resentment for fifty years; so when it was known how gifted Lilith and Eda were with their magic, they were pushed beyond reason to be better.”

Luz was reminded of Amity and the weight she carries to be perfect. She impulsively clenched her fists.

Elara continued, “Lilith and Eda are the first in over two centuries to be born with so much power running through their veins.” Her smile was still affixed to her face, as sharp as knives. “Two girls with adoring parents were suddenly nothing more than property to establish themselves as one of the elite once more.”

“What happened?” Luz whispered.

“Naturally,” sighed Elara, shaking her head. “Eda rebelled. Their parents knew she couldn’t be swayed from her path.”

The teen slouched into the couch. “Lilith wasn't, though.”

“Correct. She was malleable. All she wanted was her parents love and respect again; so she pushed herself to be perfect for them. The perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect witch. Which meant joining the Emperor’s Coven, the best of the best. It meant Eda couldn’t beat her.”

“That wasn’t fair to her,” Luz seethed. “Lilith is powerful. Did she really have to be better than Eda to earn their approval?”

“Fraid so, sweetie.”

“Why?”

“She was the eldest,” Elara explained, as if that was reason enough. “It was seen as an embarrassment to be weaker than her younger sibling. No matter how much she may wish it, Lilith won’t ever be in the same league as Eda. It’s a fact, and it’s one she can’t face. It was her downfall in the end.” 

“The curse.” Luz stated evenly. 

“Yes,” Elara replied, as calm as the grave. “She let her insecurities get the best of her. She lost sight of the love she held for her sister; forgot her sister only ever wanted to follow in her path. Cursing Eda damaged a crucial part of Lilith to such an extent I don’t even think I can heal it.”

“She didn’t deserve this,” Luz swore vehemently. “Eda didn’t deserve this.”

“No, they didn’t.”

The melodic voice fraught with acidity stole the breath right out of Luz’s lungs. The warmth in her eyes was suddenly a wordless fury. A danger lurked in their depths so profound Luz felt it in her very bones. Elara’s ever present smile abruptly fell. Even only knowing her for a short time, Luz still got the impression the look was wrong. Terrifying.

Then, as if it never left in the first place, the warmth resurfaced again in her eyes. A sympathetic smile tugged at her lips as she intently held Luz’s gaze for a while. “I now see how you won Lilith over,” she mentioned after a moment of silence. “Now, any other questions before we begin?”

“Actually,” Luz said, sitting up a bit straighter. “I do have a question. About the families?”

Elara studied her with a thoughtful expression; then waved a hand for her to continue. “Sure, sweetie,” she hummed, a curiosity brimming in her eyes. “What is it?”

Luz’s gaze fell to her lap, a frown tugging her lips down. “When Lilith was telling me about how the coven system worked, she never mentioned the nine families. Why?”

Elara hummed in thought. “Perhaps she thought you knew?” Rolling her eyes, she balanced her mug on her lap; fingers carefully wrapped around it. “Then again, the conversation could’ve led to her connection to them, and denying the existence of the families is a specialty of the Clawthorne sisters.”

Luz propped her elbows on her thighs, her head held by the palms of her hands. “I guess that makes sense,” she mumbled, a forlorn note in her voice. “Do the families only specialize in one form of magic like the coven system entails?” 

“As if,” Elara scoffed. “They’re always one-upping each other with the next generation of witches. I don’t even know what coven a Blight isn’t established in.”  

“Oh,” Luz nodded. That, at least, made sense to her. "And the High Council? They're members of the families?"

Elara snorted in contempt. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Doesn’t it basically mean no one outside of the families can ever hope to be head of one of the nine main covens?”

“Like I said, truly a rigged system,” Elara said with a smirk; then shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say it’s an impossibility, though it’s unheard of anyone outside of the bloodline being born gifted in magic as powerful as the families.” 

Luz pondered over her words for a minute before a thought struck her. “What about you?” She asked.

Elara tilted her head to the side, her golden eyes full to the brim with amusement. “What about me?”

Luz’s smile twitched at the corner. “Lilith said you’re the best, right? Wouldn’t that imply you’re pretty powerful? Are you a member of one of the families?”

“Well,” Elara said, drumming her fingers against her mug in thought. “Yes and no. The name Rime isn’t associated with any of the nine families' bloodlines, but a Blight’s blood does run through my veins from my mother’s side.” 

Luz straightens from her hunched position. “So, what you’re saying is,” Luz grinned, her teeth white against her darker skin. “A forbidden love story is afoot?”

“I wouldn’t really call it a story,” Elara chuckles. “My mother simply fell in love with someone beneath her station,” she explained. “She was casted out of the family and the Blight name was removed from her when she married my father.”

“I bet they’re regretting that now,” Luz snickered. “What, did they think you wouldn’t have potential if your mom didn’t marry who they wanted her to?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Elara mused before her expression evened out. “Not to be boastful, but my sister and I are truly the most gifted to be born in our respective fields.”

Luz’s eyes widened. “You have a sister?” She asked in shock. 

Elara huffed out an amused breath. “I do. I have four sisters, actually, but they’re not in the same bracket of power as the two of us.”

“Woah. Is she a healer like you?”

Elara made a face. “Titan’s, no. Breaking things has always been more her specialty. "Now, speaking of healing,” she rounded on Luz with a comforting smile. “I believe we’ve dawdled long enough. Shall we begin?”

Luz gasped and straightened at the vocalization of her nightmare come to life: facing herself. There was a long pause. Luz’s terrified silence was enough of an answer. I’m not ready. I can’t. Please don’t make me.

But it was now or never.

Luz kept her eyes focused on the ground, tracing faint rings of age on the floorboards, before she nodded her assent. 

“When did it first start?”

Abruptly, panic flared -partly because Luz wasn’t yet ready for this discussion and mostly because she knew if she started she couldn’t pretend anymore -and, just like that, all the warmth in the room was swallowed up by the blackhole known as Luz’s anxiety. No matter how much she resented how weak her broken mind has made her, how much she regretted wedging a distance between her and Eda, some part of her was still holding on tightly to the idea that one day she’ll wake up whole again; that she won’t ever have to face the truth because she’ll be fine, like it was all just a bad dream. 

Her mind raced. One of her options was to lie, lie, lie like she’s been doing with everyone important in her life since she made the choice to destroy the portal. It’s not like Elara would know the truth, right? Luz was a stranger to her. She couldn’t possibly see through her. Except she aided Lilith in the past. Every circuit in Luz’s head screeched to a halt at the reminder. Elara aided Lilith. Without the elder Clawthorne even knowing. Elara knew without verbal confirmation the guilt that ate away at Lilith when she cursed her sister, saw with her own eyes the fractured pieces of her soul, and she stayed. And if Luz’s hunch is right, which she’s confident it is, is still in love with her.

Lilith trusted Elara. Trusted her enough to sacrifice the possibility of another fallout with her sister in the hopes she can heal Luz. A wave of guilt gripped her in its hold, because she knew with certainty Lilith had already broken Eda’s fragile trust in her by bringing Luz here without her knowledge. All because she made her promise not to say anything. To keep this a secret from her. Luz stupidly, stupidly thought Eda was better off not knowing all the jumbled mess scrambling around in her head. She never wanted Eda to feel responsible for her problems, but what if all it’s done is hurt her? Hurt them?

Deep breath. “It was the week after we saved Eda from petrification that I think I really started noticing. Usually, I bounce back when the going gets tough, but when it started getting harder to care about anything, when being happy suddenly felt like a betrayal to my mami, I was slowly realizing I wasn’t bouncing back anymore. That was okay, though. Time heals all wounds, right? Except it wasn’t. I was getting worse. It was like a weight was pressing down on me and I was breaking under the pressure.” She was a little shocked at how easily the words tumbled out of her -with how much she fought with herself, she thought the words would remain lodged in her throat. But then again, Elara effortlessly dispelled the iron cage. Must be a healer thing, Luz mused. 

Inhaling again, she continued. 

//

It had been well over an hour before she realized Elara hadn’t uttered a single word. Luz wasn’t sure that she’d even moved; however, the emptied contents of her mug suggested otherwise. Elara merely listened, not a speck of judgement in her eyes, as Luz stumbled over her words to find the right ones. She never interrupted Luz, even when the teen knew she was running on quite a few tangents; she merely patiently waited for Luz to find her way back on track. She never pushed and allowed Luz to steer the conversation into dangerous waters all on her own. It was easy. Simple. Freeing. 

Luz wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she agreed to come here. If she were expecting anything at all, really. Of all the possibilities she thought of, this was probably the least plausible of them. Talked. That’s all she did, and yet she felt lighter. The weight bearing down on her was lifted and tossed overboard. She felt like herself. She was aware enough to know, though, it wouldn’t last. But for the moment, this single moment in time, she could finally, with certainty, say she’s fine. 

“So,” Luz said, a bit awkwardly. “Can you fix me?”

Elara stared at her with a peculiar, unreadable expression. “To fix implies something is broken.”

Luz blinked at her. “Aren’t I?” She asked in a small, timid voice. 

“The real question here is,” said Elara, and then more gently, “do you think you’re broken?”

Baffled, Luz frowned at her. “I…”

Elara patiently waited for her to finish her thought, but Luz wasn’t sure what she should say. A part of her wondered if this was a test. On what, she didn’t know; all she did know was she couldn’t fail it. She was broken, right? She didn’t function the way she was meant to, and when something doesn’t work as it should, you take it somewhere to fix it, right? That’s why Luz was here: to be fixed because she’s a defective product. Then why was Elara looking at her like that?

Not with pity. But sympathy. Understanding. Like she’s seen this a thousand times.

“I see,” Elara offered evenly, her eyes searching Luz’s intensely. Whatever she was looking for didn’t seem to particularly agree with her, her lips pursing in contemplation. “I have a few ideas,” she started as she leant further back in her chair. “The first matter we should discuss…” she trailed off at the sound of the front door clicking open. 

Luz whirled her head in the direction of the sound, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Lilith. She sat up immediately in her seat, practically vibrating on the couch as the older woman drew near. “That was fast,” she remarked once Lilith settled down next to her; then frowned when she noticed the slightest wince as she did so. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lilith murmured. Some of the tension fled from her frame as she sunk further into the back of the couch. “How has it gone with Elara? She hasn’t bored you with her stories, has she?” A tiny grin touched her lips. “She likes to talk. A lot.”

“You wound me,” Elara sighed, feigning hurt. Past the humorous vibe she effortlessly gave off, Luz noted the laser-like focus she had on Lilith’s side, as if she can see through Lilith’s clothes what is ailing the older woman. “Besides, I know you just mean ‘have I told her any embarrassing stories about you’,” a coy grin crossed her face. “Not yet, love. And I might not have if you hadn’t so generously commented on my communication skills.”

Luz felt her own grin tugging on her lips, despite the concern she felt for Lilith. “There’s embarrassing stories?”

“Plenty.”

Lilith ignored them both, raking a hand through her hair. “Spare me, please.” She pursed her lips together into a thin line and studied Elara carefully before asking, “I need to know, will you be able to help Luz?” 

Elara held her gaze briefly before landing on Luz. “I can,” she confessed; Luz felt like a weight was suddenly lifted from her shoulders -even when Elara continued with, “It’s not going to be easy, let me instill that now, but we can manage this better with the proper steps.”

Luz nodded resolutely. “What do I need to do?”

She was finally prepared to face herself. 

Chapter Text

Elara isn’t your typical run-of-the-mill healer. 

At merely five years of age it was widely acknowledged that Elara Rime was not only incredibly gifted in the healing arts, but also an adaptive learner and a master spell crafter -to this very day, her most powerful spell has yet to be replicated by another. In what felt like an instant, the Healing Coven wanted to pull her from school and ascend her through their ranks to begin her training under a mentor of their choosing. However, her mother firmly denied their insistence on the matter; adamant that her daughter would live a relatively normal life and choose for herself when she’s older. As per tradition intended.

Her mother’s reasonings not only baffled but infuriated many. Once a member of the Blights, one of the nine prominent families, she’d ought to desire only the best for her child, no? If asked, Primrose Rime would beg to differ. (“Gifted as she may be, Elara is still but a child. And though my children may have voices of their own, this isn’t a choice she is ready to make, nor will I or anyone else make it for her. Her gift might lie in healing now, but who’s to really say she won’t master another down the road? She’ll know what she wants when she graduates.”)

Her sister was no exception, either; if anything she was peculiarly venomous in her decline when the Illusions Coven came for Mira, who was just as exceptionally gifted as Elara. When asked, her mother said she was all too familiar with the on goings of the Blight families and their expectations placed on a young witchling’s shoulders and she swore her girls would not suffer the same tragedy. They would know what it meant to be loved and cherished for not only their talents, but their faults and misgivings as well. (“Happiness doesn’t come from being superior to everyone else. It comes from the love of your family and friends. Never forget that, my girls.”)

Her mother may have only ever had the best intentions for her, but nonetheless, Elara always felt a little cheated, for St. Epiderm was an institute built for the gifted, and unfortunately, Elara was as smart as she was powerful. She was well beyond their criteria; it was quickly foreseen her school years would merely be a routine to follow instead of a space of learning as it was intended for. Like everything else in life, it was just another hapless circumstance to overcome; one that let her focus drift away from her professors and affix onto her fellow student body. Specifically, her curiosity with their dynamics amongst each other and the herd like mentality they naturally fell into within their groups. 

As a gregarious person herself, she made friends and settled within their plethora of varying group dynamics easily enough; all so very different and so very captivating. On the other hand, her sister -mind you, Elara knew very well her sister was capable of being just as sociable- kept herself apart from the others, never venturing close enough to form the tentative ties of friendship; so Elara, more often than not, chose to stick close to her sister. Note that it was never out of pity or sympathy, -her sister would have her head if so- but because Mira understood her the best and some days you need someone who gets it. (“They’re dunce, my dear; they’ll smile, nod their heads, and go along with whatever we’re telling them. We both know they don’t understand a word of it; it’s why they’re the sheep and we’re the wolves.”)

Mira also found school to be a waste of their time, a mediocre display of normality, but her sister also thought everyone was beneath her; so Elara always took her opinions with a grain of salt. (“You shouldn’t waste your time with them, my dear. One day we’re going to show them all how useless they really are to us. The families will know how much better we are when the name Rime is as well known as theirs.”) And Mira aside, none of her classmates ever really clicked for her in that special way. A best friend outside of her sister seemed out of her reach; as much as she cherished her friends, not-a-one sparked enough of a promise. A promise of forever. Of ties beyond simple companionship. 

For someone like Elara, who had so many thoughts running through her mind at all hours of the day, all vying for center stage and shouting over each other to be heard, perhaps it was beyond her realm of possibility, a quest she couldn’t ever hope to achieve. And the idea that it could ever happen to her slowly quieted until it was barely a whisper in the back of her mind, her determination to help others surfacing and consuming her entirely. It’s how her most powerful spell came to be, the All-Knowing Sight, at the tender age of seven, but it wouldn’t really work in her favor until much later in her life.  

Wash, rinse, repeat. The same old story day by day...

...until she met the Clawthorne sisters. 

Edalyn Clawthorne, Elara mused, not for the first time, was the very embodiment of the sun: her smiles too bright, her eyes too warm, her abundance of hair a waterfall of solar fire. But unlike the sun, Elara didn’t burn when she got too close to the self proclaimed Lord Calamity of Hexside; if asked, she’d more compare her to a fireplace: warm, reassuring, comforting. Everything about Eda was a fascination to observe, from her chaotic magic use, to her warm soul, to her fierce protectiveness of her elder sister. And it was quite exhilarating to witness Eda’s boisterous personality in person, as Elara was far more acquainted with the reserved demeanors of her family and friends at St. Epiderm. 

Even then, Eda was breaking the mold. 

Lilith Clawthorne, for her part, was the total opposite of her sister, but Elara wouldn’t quite call her the moon, either. Instead of the fully bloomed smiles her sister so freely tossed around, Lilith’s smiles were meeker in nature, the shy curl of her lips always rendering Elara’s heart a fluttering mess. As if she’d given all the warmth in her to encompass Eda, Lilith’s eyes were shrouded in ice, her piercing stare freezing the very blood in the veins of anyone brave enough to initiate eye contact. Elara was far more likely to burn from the cold if she got too close -not that it stopped her; for Lilith she’ll face the dangers of frostbite. And unlike Eda, she was a source of befuddlement to observe, from her carefully controlled magic use, to the fractured cracks in her soul, to her fierce jealousy of her younger sister’s natural talent. And, like everyone else, she was reserved and placid, but unlike them, heated embers laid dormant beneath her placidity, waiting to be ignited into a blazing fire. 

Over time, the fractures in her soul warranted further concern for Elara. The fractures wouldn’t heal as Elara thought they ought to -in fact, they became more pronounced, like whatever held her in such a vice-like grip was slowly cutting her deeper open by the day. It was frustrating, because Elara had no name for it, no remedy on the tip of her tongue to aid her, no knowledge of the disease eating away at her friend. For the first time in her life, the prodigy healer was thwarted. She was powerless; incapable of healing the one person that mattered. It was vexing. Maddening. Heart-rendering. 

The same fractures, the same hurt, was now manifested in the young girl before her, her soulful brown eyes glazed over by a fear of the unknown - so much like the turquoise ones showing up at her door in the middle of the night all those years ago. Inexperienced in their younger years, Elara hadn’t been able to help Lilith then -a regret she’ll harbor for the rest of her life- but now Elara was far more knowledgeable about what she’s dealing with. Her need to master every medicinal practice, even if it meant learning the practices of other realms, was finally bearing her the fruits of her labor. She had answers. She could help. And so many on the Isles needed it. 

Elara silently hummed to herself and leaned her head back against the wingback chair, her wide brim hat carelessly tossed to the back of her chair sometime ago; the focus of her attention drifted away from the occupants in her home and onto the wall length glass as she processed her thoughts. It was starting to rain, fat, heavy drops splattering on the glass and chasing after one another down the smooth surface. She looked past them at the small, lively thriving garden she’s maintained for years now in her backyard, the plants resilient to the boiling rain’s effects and soaking in the nutrients the water provided them. If only people were as easy to understand as plants were, she mused. 

“I’m assuming you and Luz have already discussed what’s been happening with her?” 

She could feel their gaze like it was a palpable thing, searing across her skin like the first seconds a witchling’s branded with their coven’s glyph. Turning her head, Elara naturally gravitated to Lilith, unsurprised to find the other woman watching her with a neutral stare, like the healer can’t see past the façade. Even while expressionless, Lilith may as well have been an open-book, her eyes conveying an anguish so profound Elara felt like she was drowning in it. Lines of exhaustion and physical pain were breaking through Lilith’s masterfully crafted mask, which left a frown threatening to tug Elara’s characteristic smile down at the sight of. “We haven’t got into the nitty-gritty of it, but I do have a better idea of what you were implying to in your letter, yes.” 

“Wait, you mean there’s more to talk about?”

Elara tilted her head, slightly amused by the note of surprise she detected in Luz’s question. If she thought a few hours of treading through choppy waters was enough substantial information for Elara to work with -well, to be fair, it was enough, in a sense. The All-Knowing Sight tended to pick apart what words couldn’t garner, but the healer liked to be thorough before she began a treatment plan- then the poor thing was in for a rough time. “Afraid so, sweetie. Although, I must say, you’ve done wonderfully so far; this isn’t my usual method with my patients on their first visit.” 

Luz blinked, again surprised. “How do you usually do it?”

“Well,” she replied, nodding minutely as she tapped her fingers on her mug in thought. “For one, I like my patients to feel comfortable with my presence the first time I see them; more often than not, home is where they feel their safest, where they can be in control should the need arise to dismiss me if they feel my presence is more harmful than helpful. It’s important that the bond I form with them in the early stages is as smooth a transition as we can possibly make it; my services are worthless without it.” A pause, her head canting further. “I admit, I’m curious as to why you’d risk coming here instead of having me come to you, hm?” 

Soulful brown eyes darted away. The teen didn’t dare look back at her, thumbs fiddling, an expression of guilt written on her features, but Elara wasn’t directing the question at Luz, so much as she was Lilith, whose own expression went stone cold, her eyes hardening into glaciers. Neither voiced a word, nor did they attempt to deny the underlining accusation in Elara’s inquiry. Not that she needed them to; it was clear to see from the start Eda was left in the dark about the situation. Most likely case, Elara concluded, is that she isn’t even aware her family is currently here instead of safe at home. 

Ah, Elara thought. I see. 

It was unsurprising, really; Lilith was a creature of habit and she kept secrets in spades. That in itself was a destructive path to lead, and as much as she desires to cease it, it’s not the main priority at the moment. For Luz, this was doing her more harm than good -from what little she could interpret with their interactions, Luz was heavily relying on Lilith as her only support through this trying time. Lilith was her anchor, and as comforting as she finds it to know her friend has someone who trusts her so unconditionally, there’s a concern that far outweighs the sentiment that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. If left alone, Luz could develop a dependency on Lilith that’ll be difficult to break down the road. It isn’t a healthy state of being for the teen; certainly not for Lilith, who is still facing her own demons. 

She’d need to address that as soon as possible, it seemed. Just another bullet point on a list of to-dos.  

But firstly, there is a priority that needed to be tended to before Luz could have her undivided attention, and that so happened to be Lilith. As much it pains her to admit it -she’s a selfless person by nature- when it comes to Lilith, Elara will always tend to her first. Always. It's the only time the healer has ever warranted herself a selfish desire. If only Lilith could see it for herself, but that was a thought for another day.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Elara set her mug aside. Rising from her chair, the healer rounded the coffee table to stand in front of her longtime friend, resting her fingers on the armrest’s edge to appease the ache in her to just reach out and touch Lilith. She briefly let her gaze linger on the woman before glancing at the teen. “We’ll continue in a moment, sweetie,” Elara said softly, all the warmth she could summon laced in her words; pleased when Luz’s shoulders slumped as she nodded. “You,” her eyes landed back on Lilith. “I’m going to need you to be a good girl and let Asa take a look at you. Upstairs, please.”

Lilith’s head jerked up, a brief flicker of dread in her eyes that’s snuffed out in such a haste it was bound to be thought as a mere trick of the eye -that is, if Elara weren’t always meticulously studying people. Her eyes hardened into steel, a fortress Elara couldn’t hope to penetrate without further assistance from the All-Knowing Sight enclosed her. Her hackles rose in defense against her and Elara felt the air leave her lungs as surely as if she’d taken a kick to the stomach. “That isn’t necessary,” she said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like hers. It was harsh and commanding, like the coven leader she once was. “I’m fine.”

The healer closed her eyes again; breathed in deep enough to stir an ache in her ribs. No matter how much progress she makes with Lilith, it’s washed away like footprints in the sand the second Lilith’s mistrust rears its ugly head at her. She wasn’t joking, Elara surmised in something akin to scorn, when she said she wasn’t interested in friends the day they met all those years ago. Pity for her, Elara hasn’t gone anywhere; isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and at some point Lilith needed to get with the program, because Elara’s at her breaking point with the whole lone wolf attitude -mind you, this is all coming from someone whose entire living relies on patience. Not that she’ll ever dream of abandoning Lilith; the thought hasn’t and never will cross her mind.

Lilith was just really trying.

Eyes opening, Elara’s jaw tensed. “Maybe you misheard me,” she refuted, an edge of steel hardening her melodic tone. Her fingers twitched where they rested on the armrest. Anger was an emotion she found to be too distasteful for her; it led nowhere and solved nothing, but the Clawthorne sisters were particularly talented at wearing her patience thin. Of drawing out the desire to harm another in their defense. “I wasn’t asking. Upstairs, please.”

“Elara,” Lilith said dangerously lowly. The ice in her eyes voiced a promise of unending pain, but the healer would not be deterred by Lilith’s silent threat. “Asa’s assistance isn’t needed. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“It’s cute you think you can lie to a healer, ” she replied in a similarly low tone, her head tilting with a promise of her own as her smile turned sharp. “Trust me, Lily dear, you’ll feel much better once Asa has seen you.”

“No,” Lilith said instantly.

“I’m still not seeing how you’re mishearing me.”

“The only one mishearing around here is you.  Loss of hearing catching up with you in your old age, dear?”

“I’m not the one with the gray streak in her hair.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with my age.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

Clearly frustrated, Lilith changed tactics. “I’m not letting that sniveling, little miscreant anywhere near me.” Her breath came in a rough, audible hiss. “I’m fine.”

Something flashed through Elara. She wasn’t sure if it was irritation or amusement. Perhaps a bit of both. “Are you really not over what happened?” A pause; an eyebrow cocked. “He apologized.”

Lilith sniffed. “I’d hardly call it an apology.”

“The words I’m and sorry were uttered. How’s that not an apology?”

“I stand by what I said. I don’t need its assistance.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “The pattern of your breathing and the way you’re favoring your right side tells me otherwise.” A mischievous smile curled her lips. “Shall I perform a physical examination myself?” 

“Uh,” Luz voiced from her place next to Lilith, worry and amusement swirled in the depths of her eyes as they flicked between the two women. “Question?” Elara’s megawatt smile far outshone Lilith’s glower and seemed to give the girl the confidence to continue, “Who’s Asa?” A pause. “And are you saying you’re going to poke Lilith?” 

“Asa’s my palisman,” Elara supplied. It was done so swiftly that Lilith didn’t stand a chance at spouting her own opinions about her companion, the other woman’s mouth clamping shut with an audible click. Then Elara’s smile turned cat-like. “And you’re precisely correct, sweetie. I am going to poke her.”

“Touch me and you’ll regret it,” growled Lilith, eyeing her testily. 

As natural as breathing, Elara ignored her. “A good poke would do you some good.”

“You wouldn’t dare. ” Lilith glared daggers at her, plastering herself to the back of the couch as if it’ll create a far enough distance from the healer. Luz’s giggle only seemed to sharpen her glare, although she kept it trained on Elara and off Luz. 

“Try me, love.” A coy smile curled her lips upwards as her fingers left the armrest and stretched out toward Lilith, wiggling in anticipation. “If you’re so insistent I look...”

Lilith held her gaze for a heartbeat, uncertainty written in every line of her body, before it dropped to the digits ever veering closer to her person. “I really don’t need…”

“Let her help,” was the soft response from Luz. “Please, Lilith?”

A war was waged behind Lilith’s eyes as she met the concerned pair of the girl. It was snuffed after a silent conversation passed between the two. Then Lilith relented, shoulders slumping as she jerked to her feet, the tip of her nose briefly brushing Elara’s own, and the healer reeled from the sudden contact, knocking her back several paces until she managed to regain her footing. Her eyes widened at the easy surrender; she was half expecting Lilith to put up more of a fight.

Lilith briefly managed to level a smirk her way before it evened out. She let her eyes land on the teen still seated on the couch, quietly watching the two friends. “Remember what I said about needing me,” at Luz’s nod, she turned back to Elara. “I’ll go. But if it does that tongue thing again…” instead of finishing, she merely shuddered. 

Elara recovered her wits quick enough. "I'm sure he'll be pleasantly behaved for you,” she quipped, her smile playful. 

An eye roll was thrown over Lilith’s shoulder. “You’ll be in need of a new palisman if it isn’t,” she growled before she begrudgingly left the two other people in the room to face her fate. 

//

Luz waited until Lilith’s footsteps faded before she risked glancing at the other woman in the room with her. Elara’s eyes were still focused in the direction Lilith disappeared, her smile wistful, and so she didn’t yet notice the teen keenly studying her. She waited a breath before daring to say, “You really care about her, don’t you?” She wanted to say love,  but the word felt like treading into dangerous territory; so she refrained for the time being. 

Gold eyes met mahogany. Elara blinked repeatedly. Surprise replaced the smile, then her lips curved again. Her head dropped and her shoulders started to shake and then she was laughing. That same bell like sound spilling past her lips. 

It was Luz’s turn to blink. Again. She was doing quite a bit of it today. She experienced the same surprise that’d been on Elara’s face, and then it gave way to momentary confusion. Then it was replaced by a brief bout of anger before she tempered it down with a rough swallow. She tucked her hands under her thighs as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. 

Luz can’t say for certain when it started, but it’s occurred to her that she’s particularly defensive in the matters regarding Lilith; protective of the older woman in a way that she once lashed out at Amity, her friend, when the witchling kept spewing words of hate about the ex-coven leader. She reasoned it’s because she promised Lilith she’d be her friend -well, friends have each other’s back, and if it has to be Luz, so be it, she’ll fight tooth and nail for Lilith. But she knows Elara is in the same corner as her; it’s just a little difficult to remind herself of it. 

Again, as if she were psychic, Elara interpreted her thoughts, her laugh fading away as a simple hum replaced it. Her smile softened, as if it were possible for someone whose smile rarely left her face. “I do,” she answered just as softly. “I care quite a bit, which is why I’m going to do everything in my power to help you get through this.”

“Thank you,” came Luz’s tentative voice. “I know it’s not something you have to do.” She swallowed back the sudden rock in her throat after a small nod. “So, how can you help me?” Fix almost slipped off her tongue; only the recollection of Elara’s earlier question stalled the word before it was uttered. 

Elara took a moment to reply, choosing her words carefully, as always it seemed. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t have to help you,” she said, heading back to reoccupy her vacant chair. “No one ever has to do anything, but I made a vow that I’ll spend my entire life helping others, whether their pain is physical or mental, whether they’re rich or poor. I’ll never be so callous as to turn someone away when they seek out my assistance.” She leveled Luz with an intense stare, as if she could see straight past Luz and into the depths of her soul as she continued. “Understand that I want to help you, Luz. And it remains to be seen as to how we’ll go about it.” 

Luz considered her words for a moment. “How so?” She pondered, following the other woman with her eyes as she resettled in her chair. It was almost comical how tiny it made her already petite frame appear. “Will I be different from your other patients?”

“In a way,” Elara acknowledged, briefly glancing at her emptied mug with a frown before she shrugged it off. “Like I said earlier, I like to form a bond with my patients. The more I know about you, the better I can help you develop more control; the better I can work with you to healthily process your thoughts and feelings.”

Control. Luz’s eyes closed momentarily, her shoulders slumping. There’s no cure. Of course, it’s never that easy. 

“In case a warning is necessary,” Elara continued with more warmth in her tone, making Luz’s shoulders droop for an entirely different reason. “I must remind you I’m not a trained professional in this field of medicine, at least, not in the same sense a human has been taught to be, that is.” She shrugged her shoulders, her smile still so beatific on her face. “However, what I am is vastly knowledgeable from years of research; pair it with my natural talent in my field of healing, along with what I like to call my cheat, I’m confident in my ability to help you manage this.” 

Luz canted her head. “Your cheat?”

“Yes,” Elara confirmed. “All experienced witches can only be referred to as a master of their field of magic if they’ve created a spell uniquely their own.”

“Woah,” Luz’s eyes widened. “Can someone copy it?” A pause, her brow furrowing. “Or, uh, learn it?”

“All spells are meant to be passed down, so yes, it can be,” the healer said as she tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes briefly flicking skyward. “Although, none have succeeded in learning my spell quite yet. It’s passive and in no need of a spell circle to be conjured, which really seems to boggle many.”

Luz nodded wordlessly, her mind rewinding back to the night Lilith used a spell when she split the curse between her and Eda. A spell circle hadn’t been casted then either. Was that Lilith’s spell? There’s a pause; then another tiny nod from Luz. “What’s your spell?”

“I like to call it the All-Knowing Sight. How it works is I can see into the very depths of your soul. I can see the cracks in your shell, the emotional scars left, and the still healing fractures,” she explained with a shrug. “Basically, what you can’t tell me in words, your soul reads loud and clear.” 

“So, does anyone even really need to hash out their problems if you can already see them?” 

“Well no, I suppose not.”

“No? ”

Elara shrugged helplessly, a sheepish smile gracing her lips. “I can see what ails you easily, yes; enough so words aren’t needed to treat you,” she said, a momentary pause following as she gathered her thoughts, considering the best way to approach her next words. “But just because I already know doesn’t mean I also know what you’re thinking. ” She expelled a shuddering breath. “A lot of our internal struggles come from how we mentally process our emotions. Unfortunately, the All-Knowing Sight doesn’t reveal that to me.”

Luz leaned forward in her seat, her hands slipping out from her under her thighs to grip her knees. “And in order to help me best, you need to know what I’m thinking?” She concluded on her own.

“Precisely,” Elara retorted with a smirk, eyes ablaze with mischief as she looked at her. Her smirk cut off with the shake of her head, replaced by the smile Luz was quickly growing accustomed to. “As I was saying before,” she reproached the subject at hand. “The All-Knowing Sight allows me to see the damage done to your soul. You weren’t wrong when you mentioned wounds heal with time. They certainly do, even emotional ones. And most of them will heal on their own, minor scrapes that won’t even leave a scar, but not all wounds have that luxury, I’m afraid.” 

“Is that why am I not getting better?” Luz swallowed hard, her heart knocking on her ribs so rapidly she could barely breathe. She stared at Elara, her eyes wide, confusion and fear making her look even younger than she was. “It’s been months since I destroyed the portal,” she refuted. “Shouldn’t I already be over this?”

“Think of it like this,” the healer spoke soothingly, keeping her voice low and even. “The more traumatic the impact of emotional pain is, the deeper the laceration will be. Losing your way home wasn’t a mere scratch that’ll heal over in a few days,” she paused, waiting for either silent consent or voiced disapproval before continuing, “this is a deep gouge in your soul. It can’t close on its own.”

Luz shook her head, her eyes averted, looking anywhere but at the healer as she processed her thoughts. “Are you saying my soul needs stitches?”

“Metaphorically speaking, yes.”

“But it’ll eventually close, won’t it? The body wouldn’t let a wound stay exposed forever. It has to heal eventually.”

“Sadly, that’s where you’re wrong.” Elara’s tone remained light enough, but a quick glance at the healer revealed her sharpened eyes when she spoke next, as if she couldn’t stress the significance behind her meaning with words alone. “It’s not that the body wants to let the wound fester, it’s that it can’t heal it, for one reason or another.” That sharpened gaze met and held Luz’s wounded one. “If you continue to ignore it, hoping it’ll heal on its own, you’re running the risk of permanent damage. By then, a scar would be the least of your worries.”

A chill slithered down Luz’s spine. “Have I done that?” She choked, looking down at her hands as they balled into fists in her lap. “Am I too late?”

“It’s never too late, sweetie.” Elara softened her voice again, her spell most likely showcasing that she’d shocked her way past the initial layers of Luz’s resistance. “Don’t ever think it is. It may take longer, ugly scars may be left, but there is no wound that can’t be healed with the right care, okay? And I must admit, the fractures in your soul are fairly deep. Luckily for you, I’m confident your soul will be shining as bright as a star in no time. Repairing the damage doesn’t concern me so much as what’s causing it.” Elara waited for Luz to meet her gaze again. “I have a few theories in mind, although I’d like to keep them to myself for the time being. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to delve a little deeper into a few issues that I’m the most curious about.”

Luz shrank further back into the couch, keeping her eyes lowered on her hands. “Like what?”

“How about we start with something simple, hm?” Elara ventured carefully. “In her letter, Lilith mentioned to me about your sleeping issues; that they’ve been steadily getting worse. Can you tell me about that?”

Luz stilled a moment, swallowing. “Do I have to talk about it?” If this is what Elara thought simple meant, Luz was terrified for what’s to come.

“I won’t force it out of you, if that’s what you mean.” Luz could feel her eyes boring into her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her gaze. “I will warn you of this now: anything you don’t wish to discuss will be pinned for later, which means I will continuously circle back to it each session it’s shelved until you believe yourself ready.”

“So I do have to talk about it.” She almost spat the words. The healer’s piercing stare was burning a hole in the middle of her forehead. She clenched her jaw, a tick of irritation simmering under her skin. It seemed skimming the surface of her problems was easier done than diving in headfirst. She was an idiot to think she could ever be ready for this. 

“Yes, eventually you will need to talk about it, but not now if you don’t wish to.” Elara was unfazed by the escalating intensity oozing off Luz in waves, or at the very least, that’s how she came off to Luz. “Now, will you tell me about your sleep issues?

“There’s nothing to tell.” Luz said flatly, bordering on defiant. “My sleep is fine.” She shifted in her seat, an almost defensive straightness in her back. “Why is it so important we talk about it?”

“Humans describe it as recharging,” Elara informed, keeping her tone soft in the face of the teen’s defensive mannerism. “I quite like the phrase, actually. When you sleep, your body has a chance to repair, regenerate, and recover. And that includes your mind.”

Luz’s expression twisted, unknowing. “I’m still not following. How does my sleep have anything to do with what’s causing the fractures in my soul?”

“It has everything to do with it, or at least a fraction of it,” Elara countered gently. “A lack of sleep can cause a number of medical conditions.” She sighed, shifting to cross one leg over the other. “Answer me this: have you noticed a shift in your mood, as in you find yourself angry one minute and confused the next? Have you found yourself struggling in school recently, unable to retain what you've learned? Has your attention lapsed from a simple task more often than normal?”

“No,” Luz replied, lying through her teeth. “I haven’t. To any of it.” Lie, lie, lie. What a liar.

“Very well then.”

Luz whipped her head up. “What?” Her expression cinched, having not expected the healer to just let it go so easily. Don’t psychiatrists push you to talk about your problems? 

Elara’s smile was patient; oh so crafted to be charming. “I don’t need the All-Knowing Sight to see this isn’t something you’re ready to discuss with me. We can come back to it another time.”

Unnerved by this statement, Luz felt the scowl on her face deepen. “You’d let me off just like that?”

The healer nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“No tricks? No ‘ah-ha, got you’ somewhere down the line?” Luz narrowed her eyes slightly. “I just say no and you’ll let it go. Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Elara parroted. She remains unchanged, her smile still patient and her eyes calm. “You’re not here so that we can waste our time on me pushing you on something you can’t be moved by,” she explained with an air of aloofness. “Shall we move on to something else then?”

“I..” Luz faltered. The healer was giving her an out, a giant neon sign on full blast. A part of the teen screamed for her to run to it, the part of her that is so scared about her issues she’d rather live in denial for the rest of her life than ever face them. While the other side of her, the part of her that’s headstrong and unshakable, cautioned her to think this through before she walks out the door. 

 After a moment her scowl eased, a look of trepidation replacing the defiance. She wrung her hands together, knuckles almost white. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly. “I just can’t.” Her jaw clenched. “I try so hard to fall asleep, but my thoughts won’t shut up.” Luz put her elbows on her thighs and her head in her hands, fingers angled sharply into her scalp. “They won’t let me rest for a single moment. I’m so tired all the time.”

Elara nodded, her smile sympathetic, although Luz couldn’t see any of it. “Any specific thoughts keep you from sleep? Anything recurring?” 

“Everything,” she straightened as her hands slid to drape the back of her neck. She looked at Elara, seeming a mixture of angry, frightened, and lost. “Mostly, there’s nothing at all. Just static.” She lowered her eyes. “I can handle it most nights -I’ll just lie in bed and wait for the chance to get at least some pretense of rest.”

“But not always?”

“Not always,” Luz exhaled, the motion rippling down her frame. “Lilith doesn’t sleep, either. I don’t even think she ever sleeps. She keeps me company on the nights I can’t be left alone in my head.”

“She’s really living up to the whole ‘night owl’ aspect of the curse, isn’t she?” The joke was meant to be lighthearted, but Luz caught the underlying concern in her tone; felt it settle in her bones. Luz noted that she seemed to pin the thought for later study. “Has she given you anything to help you sleep?”

Luz nodded slowly. “She called it a calming elixir.”

Elara elevated an eyebrow. “Pretty potent stuff,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Does it help you any?”

“Sometimes,” Luz tilted her head, briefly squeezing the back of her neck to ease some of the tension building in her spine. Although they quieted her thoughts and allowed sleep to come, Lilith’s comforting scent didn’t follow her into her dreams, where she had to face her mami alone, her eyes pleading for Luz to tell her why she abandoned her. And that’s not even the worst of it; so Luz only resorts to the calming elixirs when her anxiety starts prickling under her skin. When the need for sleep greatly outweighs the fears of her dreams. 

“But not always,” Elara parroted her earlier words. At Luz’s hesitant nod, she continued, “I have a few elixirs we can try to regulate your sleep cycle, a dreamless sleep,” the emphasis on the word wasn’t lost on Luz. It seemed, without words, Elara caught onto another underlying problem of Luz’s lack of sleep. “They’re experimental and the dosage will be fairly low for even witch standards, but they shouldn’t be too harmful to you, albeit with a few side effects I’m sure we can overcome with adjustments down the line. If you’re willing to try, of course.”

“I’m willing to try just about anything.” Not that she would admit it, but Luz was shyly pleased by the possibility of a normal night’s rest. She was also highly skeptical, as a part of her couldn’t fathom ever finding sleep to come easily again to her. Of a dreamless sleep. 

“Wonderful,” Elara nodded, a pleased and easy smile on her face. She steepled her hands together and rested them on her raised knee, her expression sobering only the slightest in the face of her next words. “How are you feeling? Still feel comfortable enough to continue on?”

Luz made a noncommittal noise, hoping it wouldn’t betray her anxiety. “I think so.” 

Elara waited a breath, a hint of concern in her eyes as she observed her carefully. “Your panic attacks,” she started. “I’d like to focus on them if you’re up for it.” 

No, no, no. Luz shrank backwards slightly, away from the healer’s kind concern. “Why exactly do we need to focus on them?” I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. 

“I must say, I like that you’re asking questions,” Elara said affectionately before her tone evened out. “Say we go about as if they aren’t there, and I treat you for the underlying causes of your anxiety,” she canted her head, studied Luz for long moments. “What do you think will come of it?” 

“Something not good, I guess.” Luz answered vaguely. 

Elara hummed in agreement. “Something not good, indeed,” she confirmed. “Besides the irregular sleep, the panic attacks are one of the main instigators carving those fractures in your soul, and pretending they aren’t there won’t do you any favors, sweetie. Healing you will be pointless if we don’t face them head on.”

Luz’s brow furrowed. “Can those be cured?” 

“I’m sorry to say there’s no definite cure, but they can be managed with the proper care.” She trailed off, an uncertainty flitting across her features. “You just have to put your trust in me.”

Luz gripped the back of her neck in a tighter hold, released it, and slid them down to rest in her lap. She wrung them nervously, her thoughts rounding back to their earlier conversation on pinning a topic for later. As scared as she was of coming face to face with her other issues, it was the thought of acknowledging her panic attacks that had her stomach in knots. The exit was calling out to her, and her hand was on the door, fingers itching to turn the knob. One word and she’d be set free for another day. 

Lilith didn’t take a risk on you for you to just give up now.

The stark truth in the thought startled her. She sighed heavily, resigning herself to the fact she was going to have to dive headfirst into the cold depths of her fears. “Okay,” said Luz, running a shaky hand through her hair. “Okay. How do you want to go about it?”

“We can stop at any point you feel it’s too much,” Elara attempted to reassure her before delving in. “I’d like to know how often you’re having your attacks and what is triggering them, if it’s anything at all.”

“Oh.” That didn’t make it anymore reassuring, Luz thought. If anything, it spiked her anxiety levels through the roof. 

“Your first attack,” the healer continued, aware of Luz’s inner turmoil but pushing onward anyway. “What triggered it?”

Luz was back to not looking at Elara. Thunder rumbled in the distance; Luz closed her eyes, listening to the sound of it plinking on the roof. The sound stirred memories, memories where Lilith was always so fatigued after casting the force field over the Owl House, her magic depleted and her strength zapped. The sound of rain was always meant to be peaceful; at one time it was for Luz, and as desperately as the teen craved for peace to come, the sound alone now was almost painful. Stirring the memories that plagued her late into the night. Of the images that followed her into her dreams.

She let the memory fade, replacing it with another she’d rather not face.

She hated revisiting the first time the panic overpowered her, but the memory had a knack for creeping into her thoughts even on a good day; if she could wipe it clean from her mind, she’d willingly scrub her brain raw to rid herself of it. To forget the amount of agony her body was in as it spasmed out of her control, of the chaotic thoughts screaming behind her ears, to the over cloyingly fear consuming her entirely. Only the reminder it’d also erase Lilith, too, stopped her from ever actively seeking out a mind-erasing potion. The older woman has been her beacon of light, a lone lighthouse guiding Luz’s damaged ship through a storm of her own making. Luz didn’t want to lose a single second of her time with her, even if most of her memories with her are intertwined by terrible frights. 

“My phone,” Luz admitted quietly after a protracted silence. At the little hum Elara murmured, Luz clarified, “it was my only connection to my mami; in the beginning, hearing her voice always grounded me. I guess you could say it was my safety net.” Luz paused there, then dug around to pull her phone out of her back pocket, the little raven trinket Lilith handed her falling out as well. She rested them in her lap, her phone’s dark screen staring back at her. “When I couldn’t hear her anymore…”

“Your anxiety capsized you and you drowned in your panic?” 

“I lost it,” Luz agreed with a subtle nod of her head. “My stability was snatched right out from under me.” 

Elara hummed, eyeing the teen’s phone carefully. “I presume it doesn’t trigger you now?”

“No,” the teen confirmed. She toyed with her phone, wondering why she even bothered to carry it around with her anymore. It was useless. Like herself. “It hasn’t affected me since that night.” It was the most honest she could hope to be. She lifted her head. “I feel like it should, you know? It’s all I have of her, but I just feel numb.” Numb for a number of reasons, but she locks them in a box so far in the back of her mind she hopes to never reach them. 

Elara’s eyes were compassionate but sad. “I believe you may be compartmentalizing the loss,” she supplied, her melodic voice warm and soft, despite the worry underlying her words. “It’s a natural defense mechanism of the mind when there’s too much -hm, let’s say- static around a certain event or emotion.” She canted her head, a curious light in her eyes. “Did you shut down that night?”

Did I? Must have, as a chunk of the night was just gone; the feel of Lilith’s fingers against her skin the last clear memory she had before she came back to her body aching all over. “I...I think so?” Luz answered in uncertainty, her eyes flitting between the warm gold ones for an answer she wasn’t sure Elara could supply her with. “I don’t remember anything after Lilith told me to let it out. I think I screamed? My throat was aching, I remember that.” 

“It sounds as though you did, but I can’t, in confidence, confirm it.”

“Right,” Luz grouched, eyes looking away from Elara again. “I’d have to talk about it.”

“Clever girl.” Elara grinned. “We’ll come back to it in time, I promise. Tell me, what triggers them now?”

“Mentions of home, I think.” Luz’s hands shook with the tight grip she had on her phone. Just the thought of it made her want to retch, her stomach churning uncomfortably. Her voice was raw and hollow. “The possibility I could be faced with the same decision terrifies me. I don’t want to be forced to make that choice again.” Her eyes closed briefly, reopening to blink back the tears. “I love it here. I love Eda, King, and Lilith. I love my friends,” she faltered, a shaky breath rattling her lungs. “Amity. I don’t want to lose them...but then I remember how selfish that is of me, because I left my mami all alone; she must be so worried about me right now.” She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat before she released a harsh, choking gasp that turned into a sob. “Why didn’t I just choose her? She’s my mom!” She cried. 

Vision obscured by her tears, Luz didn’t see, nor did she even hear, Elara move until the healer was suddenly in her personal space, bent on her knees to wrap Luz up in her arms, drawing the teen into the other woman’s warmth as Luz’s body trembled violently under the strain of too much emotion. “She’s my mom,” she repeated, her words muffled into the shoulder she’s buried her nose into. Her hands abandoned her phone for a white-knuckled grip on the little white raven instead, Lilith’s name seconds away from being uttered.

The words were stuck. Luz was stuck. Elara was holding onto her as if she were the only thing saving the teen from oblivion. Not that Luz cared to move anytime soon, the hold comforting and safe. She spoke quietly into Luz’s ear. “I know. Ssh, shh,” she whispered, her voice steady and low for the teen’s sake. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” All Luz could do was close her eyes and listen to the murmur of nonsense words, Elara saying nothing that mattered as she pulled Luz more securely against her, a set of fingers combing gently through her hair. 

“She’s my mom. I abandoned her. It’s not…” 

The rest got lost on a sob. Releasing her hold on the raven, Luz clung to Elara with so much ferocity, the scent of herbs and roses filling her lungs, that Luz couldn’t hold it back anymore. She felt like she was breaking all over again. And Elara was there, her hushed words assuring she’d catch her when she fell. To trust her. 

It was her cheat, Luz knew it; the knowledge of the teen’s internal struggle gave the healer an edge over her, but the evident concern in her voice and the encompassing warmth of her hold belied the thought that this wasn’t genuine care for her. Luz grasped onto it as she poured out her grief, a sense of relief in the knowledge that someone can see the real her easing the weight she carried with her. 

Later, she’ll realize Elara never said she’d be fine, that everything would be fine. She couldn’t, in good conscience, promise the teen would be fine, that it’s okay, but she could repeatedly tell her she’s there. Over and over. ( "I’ve got you. I’m here.” ) She kept saying it, again and again. Elara muttered the words she wanted to hear. That she needed to hear. And for the moment, it didn’t matter if she believed them.

//

After an uncertain amount of time, the sobs subsided into helpless hiccups and the grief retreated for another day. Luz rested there for a few moments, her eyes closed, as she breathed in the scents of the other woman, familiarizing herself with their unique blend. Even as she calmed down, Elara’s fingers never ceased their gentle combing through her hair. She was practically purring at the touch. 

“I know,” Elara repeated, her voice a soft hum in her ear. “We don’t always get to choose who we love. And when we’re faced with a situation, where it’s life or death, we don’t always make the choice we believe we might’ve if we were more clear-headed. It’s what makes us uniquely our own person.” She carefully withdrew from the teen, the palms of her hands cradling Luz’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away her tears. “It doesn’t make your decision any more wrong now than when you made it then, does it?”

Luz gently shook her head, wishing the contact to last a little longer. “I don’t regret choosing Eda. She needed me.” She grasped firmly onto one of Elara’s wrists, keeping her palm pressed against her skin as the other withdrew to help the other woman ease up from her kneeled position on the floor. 

“That’s encouraging to hear,” Elara perched herself at the very edge of the coffee table in front of Luz, their knees knocking together. She brushed another stray tear away, tracing her palm down Luz’s cheek and neck before stopping to interlace her fingers with the teen’s, resting their interlocked hands on her knees. Without words, she picked up on the fact Luz still needed the physical contact. “I want you to hold onto that thought. Anytime you feel like second guessing yourself, I want you to remind yourself why you chose Eda, why you couldn’t step through that portal and return home. Because your choice wasn’t the wrong one.” She tried to convey her feelings in the look they shared. “Just as it wouldn’t have been if you chose to go home instead. Understand?” 

Luz closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Briefly, she thought about lying or simply not responding, but Elara’s spell has already reviewed over her soul, analyzed her faults and misgivings, catalogued her fears. She knew everything there was to know about Luz’s anxieties and what they stemmed from. “Is it, though?” She asked, her eyes opening to stare at their conjoined hands. She owed it to herself to know the answer. She harbored no regrets, knew that with certainty; just a what-if she could never bring herself to face on her own. 

A finger under her chin forced renewed eye contact. “You were faced with two harrowing choices,” Elara calmly stated, not a speck of judgement in her molten gold irises. “Either returning home with no assurance Eda and the others would get out alive, or staying to help with no assurance you could ever return home to your mother,” the woman smiled as she said it, negating any sting the words may have otherwise had. “Both carried their own consequences. You made a choice. Do you think it was the wrong one?”

Luz gave herself a moment to think it over. She found the answer to be a simple one.

No. Her mami was safe on the other side of the portal; Luz assured it when she destroyed the portal on this side. And there’s always the possibility of returning home if she stayed on the Isles -what she wasn’t guaranteed was a way back to the Isles from the human realm. She could rest easier knowing her choice kept her mami from the dangers of Belos and his plans. She had to believe she made the right choice, if not for herself than for her mami, even if it felt like a hole was expanding in her chest the longer they’re separated. 

Luz closed her eyes, gave herself a few seconds, then reopened them. “My choice wasn’t the wrong one,” she declared resolutely. For once, she’ll try to believe it. 

"That's my girl,” Elara praised, drawing a small smile from the teen. “Acceptance is the biggest factor in recovery. Letting ourselves remain in the past, second guessing our every decision over and over, will only lead to dead ends. How can we ever move forward if we spend our lives backtracking?” She pressed on, squeezing Luz’s hand gently. “We can't right our wrongdoings while simmering in our regrets. Remember that."

Luz nodded, shelving the thought for later as she thought of another. "I think Lilith could stand to hear that,” she murmured, her eyes on the fingers laced with hers. She shifted their hold around, comparing the difference in skin tone. “Her and Eda are doing so much better, but I can see the curse still haunts Lilith. She can’t forgive herself." 

"Lilith doesn't like to listen to reason,” was Elara’s hummed response. “I believe it's one of the reasons she's kept her distance from me.” She chuckled without any real humor in it. It jarred Luz, the sound of it off to her ears. “She thinks she can hide from me, even with the knowledge of my capabilities." 

"Why not just tell her you're the reason she's managing better?” Luz asked, forehead creasing in confusion. “She thinks she did it all alone, and that isn't fair to either of you."

Elara took that in for long, silent moments. "Lilith is a slippery slope, so to speak,” she began, a frown affixing itself on her face. “How I'm treating her isn't my ideal method, and it's by no means how I want to do it,” that lack of emotion was in her laugh again. “I'd give anything for Lilith to just open her eyes and see I can be trusted with her problems, but when Lilith is single-mindedly focused on a task, nothing else matters to her. What she’s going through doesn’t matter in the face of her sister’s curse; she only ever inquired about it because it was halting her progress in finding a cure.” Elara withdrew her hand from Luz’s, the teen fighting back the urge to reach out and reclaim the contact. She felt raw and exposed without the comfort. “I can't force her to see reason without the risk of losing her again."

"Why not just give up then?” It was said without thought. “Anyone else would have."

"Would you?"

Luz’s breath hitched. "What?"

"Would you give up if it were one of your friends?” For a second, Elara turned to steel. “Could you break ties with them so easily? Discard them as if they were a broken toy."

"No!” The idea turned Luz’s stomach. “Never. They're my friends." Her teeth clenched of their own accord, resulting in a harsh jolt of pain in her lower jaw at the motion.

"And Lilith is mine,” Elara replied evenly. “Vexing as she may be, I will not bend to the pressures. She can fight me and break me, but I will still be standing here, waiting for her. If I let her go, could I even still call myself a healer?" 

"Doesn't it hurt, though?” Luz refuted. There was an unending ringing in her ears, a warning on full blast resounding in her skull. “To try so hard and be met with nothing in return." 

"Someone once said ‘the only way to not feel pain is to not feel love, and that’s not a life worth living,’” Elara explained, her stare analytical. “So yes, every day it hurts, but she’s well worth it."

"But why?” Luz countered. Those same warnings were louder now, clawing at the back of her mind, demanding she silence herself before Elara figures them out. “Half your life has already passed and what do you have to show for it, but a fancy title as the best healer on the Isles?” The teen couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to; couldn’t understand why she needed to hurt the other woman so badly in the first place. “You're alone. Lilith isn't with you; it doesn't look like she ever will be. You said we have to move forward, but you're still stuck in the past. Why?"

Elara pursed her lips together as if contemplating her words, though she never took her gaze off of Luz. The teen was acutely conscious of how bright the healer’s eyes had become. She slightly tilted her head, letting a dreadful amount of silence pass between them. Luz wanted to say something else; thought she might’ve, too. Instead, they continued to face off against one another, one pair of eyes riddled with guilt, while the other settled a heavy pang of anguish in Luz’s gut at the sight of. They were frighteningly empty, painfully disparate from the habitual humor and cheer Luz had taken for granted. The hollowness there, the bowed head and defensive posture, it scared Luz, hurt her, made her wish she could hurt herself more. 

Then Elara blinked. A nod, preceded by a longer pause, as if a piece of a puzzle has fallen into its rightful place. “Do you do this often?” She implored in her smooth, honeyed voice. The words came easily enough, but Elara’s face had gone too blank, too careful. “Lash out when you can’t process your emotions?”

It was her cheat again; Luz practically an open-book to her. The knowledge of it was as unnerving as it was comforting -to know she can’t hide behind her tower of lies anymore. (“Oh, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be right as rain, you’ll see!”) However, the urge to lie was still sounding the alarm in her skull; might’ve not even been there if Luz hadn’t fucked up and chased away the gentle warmth in the other woman, leaving her with a soulless render of the Elara she was quickly feeling the loss of as if it were a physical thing. 

Luz opened her mouth to argue before deciding it was a waste of time. Her mouth clamped shut, her only response a simple shrug of the shoulders. She took a deep breath, steeling herself because no part of her actually wanted  an answer to the question. Not from herself and certainly not from the healer.

Elara waited; stared for longer moments. She caught Luz’s left hand, squeezing lightly until mahogany eyes were on hers again. “Tell me about your mom,” she shifted gears, taking the teen by surprise. “What’s she like?” Her eyes were bright again, an unnatural glow about them; Luz thought if she looked closely enough she’d be able to make out the glyph inscribed on the gold irises. She didn’t dare to. 

The teen blinked several times, surprise showing on her face. “Uh,” Luz swallowed once, hard, toughening her voice as well so the quiver wouldn’t be audible. “She’s a nurse, so she works a lot. It’s just the two of us, you know?” She was talking more to herself than Elara, but the woman hummed in reply nonetheless. “My dad died when I was little; I don’t remember him all that well, but mami tells me I’m just like him.” She sounded resigned to her own ears. “Every saturday we make ensaimadas and magdalenas; no one can make them like she does. She always makes me laugh at her terrible jokes. Sometimes I think she does it on purpose, because no one can possibly be that bad at it.” She kept talking even though she felt like she shouldn’t, feeling irrationally angry for reasons she can’t bring herself to zero in on. “She loves me, even when she doesn’t understand me.”

The healer faltered, her eyes casted off to the side. It took her a moment to answer, to even meet Luz’s gaze again. “You said it’s just the two of you,” squeezing the teen’s hand in reassurance, Elara’s smile was understanding. “Do you have anyone else back home? Friends?”

Luz shook her head. “I was alone back home,” Luz’s unoccupied hand went to her leg, alternating between tapping her fingers against her kneecap and clenching them until they were white. “I was the weird kid no one wanted to bother with.”

“But here you do.”

“Yeah,” Luz nodded in confirmation. “I have my friends, Gus and Willow. They’ve been by my side since the beginning,” Luz smiled a bit in spite of herself. “And Amity. I don’t know what I’d do without any of them.”

"Tell me about this Amity,” Elara said delicately. “Are they something more than a friend to you?" 

"What, Amity ?” Luz jerked her head up, her brow furrowing. “She's my friend. Why?"

"In a manner of speaking,” Elara clarified, “she’s outside of the box when you talk about your friends. I presumed there was something more between you."

"What? No.” Luz shook her head in denial and something that looked like exasperation flickered in the golden depths of the healer’s eyes. “Amity's just my best friend. She's actually my rival, well, not so much anymore now that we're friends, but she's the kind of witch I inspire to be. She’s loyal and dependable, fiercely compassionate, and strong in her own way.” She fiddled with the raven trinket as she admitted, “we, uh, we didn't exactly have the best start."

"Oh?” Elara canted her head, an eyebrow arching. “Can't be anywhere worse than when I met Lilith."

"Did you pretend to be one of her classmate's abominations in order to get back at her for calling said classmate half-a-witch?” Luz said sheepishly, shoulders scrunching up in shame. “And then unintentionally embarrass her at a witch's convention in front of everyone? And then maybe, accidentally, find the diary her siblings wanted to use to teach her a lesson before traumatizing her by turning her childhood book into a rampaging monster?" 

Elara blinked. It was clear she hadn’t expected that. "I stand corrected. There are worse ways.” A few seconds later, she said softly, “after all that, how did you two manage to create an everlasting bond?"

"Circumstance, maybe?” Luz responded, holding the healer’s gaze. “After the library incident, I realized Amity was just trying to prove she was strong; joining the Emperor's Coven is her dream and here I was mucking that up by being a klutz.” Her eyes lowered, an unconscious, fond smile curling her lips. “She realized I wasn’t actually out to hurt her or the reputation of her fellow witches, and I gained a new friend.” 

“And would you say you trust her?”

“With my life.”

There it was. The opening. The opportunity to discuss someone outside of Lilith’s involvement in her illness, and Luz didn’t even see it coming until it was too late. She fell hook, line, and sinker. Elara was cautious as she broached the topic, mindful of Luz’s seemingly irrational defenses. “Does she know what’s going on with you? Do your other friends?”

“No, they don’t. It’s nothing,” Luz swiftly denied, even though it was. It might be everything, one piece of the core of her issues. She didn’t think she was lying; didn’t think she was being totally truthful, either. “I need to be strong for them; don’t ever want them to feel the least bit guilty about what happened. I can’t let them know about this,” she admitted, the barest hint of a crack in her voice. “I have to stay happy-go-lucky Luz for them.” 

“Why?” Elara prodded carefully. “They’re your friends. They’ll understand, Luz. It’s important your support system is filled with people you can depend on,” she attempted to reason, but Luz wasn’t in the right mindset to hear any of it. “And they sound quite dependable to me. They’re the ones who tried to help you cure Eda, correct?”

“They are,” Luz agreed, her voice was sharp and wounded at the same time. She turned her head away as though she were recovering from a blow. For long moments, all Luz did was breathe. The exhales were harsh and shuddering. “I just can’t,” she declared, her hands clenching tight, the one captured by Elara careful of its grip on her. “Please don’t make me tell them.”

The healer lent forward, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles of the hand she still held. Luz’s other was still clenched tight over her knee; Elara covered it with her own and when Luz didn’t fight the contact, she drew both of Luz’s hands into her lap, squeezing them gently. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, sweetie,” she murmured gently, that extinguished warmth in her eyes reignited. Feeling undeserving of it, Luz’s eyes slipped closed as she listened. “But I can’t stress how important it is you tell someone else. Lilith can’t be your only support,” she sounded pained by the admission, but her tone was relatively steady. “It isn’t a stable enough system to help you through what’s to come.”

Luz didn’t answer; she was afraid to, and Elara sensed it, filling in the gap. “You said your phone was your safety net before, correct?” And Luz nodded, signaling her understanding. “And when it stopped being your safety, you fell apart. What do you think will happen if Lilith isn’t there when you have another attack? Because she isn’t always going to be there to catch you, Luz.”

“I’ll fall apart again.” The admission, the raw honesty of it, broke through the walls Luz had surrounded herself in. Defenseless, now all Luz had was the promise of Elara to protect her. The teen fought off more tears. She was so tired of crying. “I don’t want to keep breaking,” her eyes opened, finding the healer patiently waiting for her. “Can you do that for me? Can you stop me from breaking?”

Elara smiled, soft and sure. “I can. We will overcome this together,” she promised. “Management will be our ultimate goal, but you have to promise me you’ll tell someone as soon as you can. I won’t push you, but know you can’t wait forever, or everything we’re doing here will be a wasted effort.”

“I promise I will.” She meant it, even as the thought terrified her beyond reason. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” the healer praised. She gave one last squeeze to Luz’s hands and then released her, gracefully standing as she smoothed out any wrinkles in her dress. “I believe this is a good stopping point for our first session. Though we are far from done,” she warned her in a light tone. “Which probably means I need to go check on my other patient before we can discuss my treatment plan any further with you.”

“Lilith?” Luz’s eyes flicked skyward. “Is she alright?”

“Well,” Elara drawled, her eyes briefly skyward as well before lowering. “She hasn’t stormed down here swearing vengeance yet.” She shrugged her shoulders, vaguely gesturing with a wave of her hand. “I can only assume she’s either accepted her fate, or has mercilessly murdered my palisman and now lies in wait for me.”

“Oh, right, the tongue thing.” Luz made a face. “What did she mean by that?”

“Asa likes to flick his tongue in people’s ears when they least expect it.” Elara smirked at Luz, a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s his way of showing affection.”

“Aw,” cooed Luz. “That’s so cute.”

“I think so, too,” Elara clapped her hands together. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she pivoted on her heel, speaking over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs, her hand waving in the direction of her massive bookshelves. “Feel free to browse anything in my collection. I know most teens these days aren’t into reading anymore, but I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy yourself with.” 

Luz nodded, her eyes moving to the shelves as the other woman’s steps faded away, a thoughtful expression on her face.

//

Lilith sighed as something warm and soft pressed against her lower back. The scent of roses filled her nose, and she bit back a moan as a gentle, insistent hand worked its way under her shirt, fingers splaying out against the left side of her ribs, caressing the skin with careful examination. A whisper of a touch rustled past her ear, the pieces of hair obstructing her face drawn back behind it. 

“Lily dear,” a voice at once familiar but different tempted her back to consciousness, though the siren’s call to sleep still clung tightly to her. “Love...as cute you are, it’s time to wake up.” Ignoring the soft voice, Lilith buried herself further into whatever soft object her head was currently resting on, the scent of roses much stronger here as she breathed it in. “Hm, I thought I told you to heal her, Asa, not lull her to sleep. You know she hates it when you do that.”

Lilith’s ears twitched at the sound of a hiss. Wait. Disoriented, she took a moment to place her surroundings, her first deep breath reminding her of her injuries as a sliver of pain wormed its way through her sleep-induced haze. It hurt too much. Everything hurt, but some part of her was reminding her it wasn’t nearly as bad as before. Why that was she didn’t know and the panic made her gulp in air, and that hurt too. She hated the choked noise of pain that fell from her lips but there was nothing she could do to hold it back.

The sound of rain tapping against the window panes drew even further confusion. Why hadn’t Edalyn called for her to protect the house from the boiling rain? Then there’s that soft voice murmuring again and another hiss like sound.

Wait.

This wasn’t right. 

Wait. 

Only ever in her nightmares has Lilith dreamt of snakes, and the warmth against her was far from the unpleasant horrors she’s tormented by in her dreams. Which meant… This wasn’t a dream. 

Her eyes snapped open, and she had a split-second to register the fact that she was lying in Elara’s bed, her palisman -curled into a ball with the world’s smuggest look about it- not far off from her right in her peripheral, before Lilith’s mind rebooted and realized it was Elara herself pressed against her back. Her hand splayed out against her ribs. Her injured ribs. 

Despite herself, Lilith stiffened, but the other woman didn’t budge from her clinical exploration, the stilling of her hand the only indication she was aware Lilith was now awake. Something close to panic settled in as Lilith wedged one arm between them, fingers firmly grasping the healer’s wrist, to cease all movements. She sat up too fast, the world a dizzying blur for a second, and Elara’s hands were on her, her eyes too bright, trying to ease her down. “Where’s Luz? Where is she? Is she okay?”

Pain laced Lilith’s voice and Elara lowered hers in response. “She’s perfectly safe,” she assured, still trying to lay her back against the mattress but Lilith fought her. “She’s downstairs processing it all. But safe. She might even be a little bored by now.” 

She was talking quietly, Lilith knew that. Her voice always so soft , but it still seemed loud in her ears. She couldn’t quite focus on her, and when she tried, the thudding in her head turned into a roar. It mattered little to her as something occurred to her, that Elara’s words were slowly beginning to ring clear in her ears. She repeated it several times until Lilith’s breathing evened out.

Luz is safe. Luz is safe. Luz is safe.

Lilith nodded, even though it made her head hurt, some of the tension leaching out of her frame. She didn’t know why she suddenly flashed on Luz, trembling and crying out into the night as her body betrayed her. Lilith couldn’t explain any of it, but knowing the girl is safe was enough to quell the panic hanging over her. For now. 

Elara still held her carefully and Lilith finally gave into the healer’s gentle pushing and fell back against the mattress, her back landing with a soft thud. She shot an icy glare at the cobra, who still regarded her with that superior look, a tongue flicking at her. “I thought the agreement was if I let that miscreant look at me,” she grumbled, sending her icy glare to linger on Elara instead. “You wouldn’t go feeling me up.”

The healer feigned innocence. “Is that we agreed upon?” Innocence may have coated her tone, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, the brightness dimming down until all Lilith was faced with was the molten gold hue she hasn’t found in anyone else on the Isles. “I’m sorry, love, I must’ve misheard you. Do you want to tell me what happened, or shall I take a guess?”

“I’m not your patient.” Lilith asserted with a quiet firmness. “Luz is.” Her words contradicted her actions, though, as she allotted herself to give in to Elara, letting the other woman assess her injuries without putting up so much of a fight. It’s not like she wouldn’t eventually wear Lilith down anyway. 

Elara actually smiled at that. “You’re always my patient,” she drawled, her hand maneuvering back under the shirt and sliding over Lilith’s ribs, increasing pressure in tender areas. “I still haven’t cured that stubbornness yet, after all,” she huffed slightly. “Asa’s done a wonderful job healing the fractures in your ribs, by the way. I’d say in a few days you shouldn’t feel any soreness. How does your head feel?”

“It’s fine,” at Elara’s dubious look, Lilith relented with, “It aches, is that what you want to hear?”

“It is, thank you,” Elara chirped, unaffected in the face of Lilith’s agitation. “You went to the Underground, didn’t you?” She kept her eyes on Lilith’s face. At any signs of a wince, a jolt of warmth pulsed under her skin. Lilith didn’t need to look to know the other woman was seeping her magic into her. She also didn’t need to look to know the soft caresses were by no means necessary in the slightest.

That’s all Elara. 

To say Elara Rime was a tactile person would be a gross understatement, if you had asked Lilith. This was one of the first things Lilith learned about the prodigy healer befriending her sister all those years ago. While Lilith had certainly never been mistreated by her family, at seven years of age she hadn’t grown up in a particularly affectionate environment anymore, except in the case of her sister. Lilith had acclimated to Edalyn’s need to invade her personal space early on, but where Edalyn pounced and held nothing back, Elara was crafty, sneaking her way past Lilith’s boundaries so effortlessly that by the time she’d even realize it, it was already too late to retreat from her warmth.

Essentially, Elara Rime was considered a danger to the elusive witch, the healer always armed with open arms and casual touches and kisses to spare. It was a bit of a shock, to say the least -and as a result, it became something Lilith did her best to avoid, if only for her own peace of mind. Because who really wants to be seen with Lilith when there’s Edalyn? Edalyn, who freely embraces others, interlocking arms and drawing in other’s heat. Edalyn, who makes friends as if it’s second nature to her, not an ounce of awkwardness in her entire frame. Edalyn, who’s so beautiful, even now, that Lilith couldn’t ever hope to compare. If anyone deserved each other, it was those two. 

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stall the pain ricocheting in her skull and halt that line of thought before a familiar pain blooms in her chest. She pursed her lips in obvious distaste. “I didn’t have much of a choice,” she admitted carefully. “I needed answers, and we weren’t finding them in the Night Market. The Underground seemed my best option at the moment.”

Elara’s eyes narrowed in clear disapproval. “Alone ? That wasn’t very wise of you, Lily dear,” she elevated an eyebrow that conveyed everything she wanted to say but didn’t. “Last I recall, the Underground doesn’t particularly favor those in the Emperor's Coven,” her eyes briefly landed on her wrist that was concealed by her shirt’s sleeve. “Especially a certain coven leader responsible for many of them landing in the Conformatorium in the first place.”

“They wouldn’t have winded up in the Conformatorium if they’d followed the law,” Lilith spat and Elara didn’t look the least bit convinced by the weak exclamation. 

“I should’ve known you had ulterior motives for coming here. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. “Even if I did tell you, what use would you have been to me? You’re a healer, Elara. Not exactly a fighter.”

“I can’t throw fireballs, no,” Elara agreed readily enough, finding no faults in the knowledge in her lack of prowess. “It’s better than walking in there alone, that’s for sure.” She leveled her with her best glower, which wasn’t all that impressive. “You could’ve been left for dead in some alley, and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late.”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Say I let you go, what would you have done?”

“Distract them with my strikingly good looks?” Elara asked with a playful put upon air. She sobered as she withdrew her hand from under Lilith’s shirt, resting it on her thigh instead. “You know I would’ve helped if you had just asked me, right?”

Lilith managed a smile, if a bit forced. “Yes, because you turning heads in a seedy area is going to give me the information I need.” 

Elara beamed. “Can’t be helped I’m so enchanting.”

She’s certainly something. Lilith would imagine Elara in the Underground; something in her stomach rolled at the image it flashed behind her eyes, her heart plummeting at the sight of ill-intentioned hands mere inches in reach from the healer. The knowledge Elara lived a few measly blocks from the entrance to the Underground was bad enough, but the idea of her actually stepping - willingly, at that- into their territory froze the very blood in Lilith’s veins. The Underground catered to criminals, from measly pickpocketers to sadistic murders, and a healer of Elara’s caliber in their midst could tempt them in quite a few ways. 

Not only is Elara beautiful, anyone with a pair of eyes could see that, but her sister’s also a member of the High Council, a seat of power witches would kill someone for -tackle on the fact Mira is a monster with a number of enemies eager to fish out revenge on the illusionist, you might as well call Elara a walking target. It wouldn’t take but a simple interaction between the Rime sisters for someone to realize that Mira’s one obvious weakness is her sister. That threatening Elara’s life was a surefire way of bending the powerful illusionist to their will. Not only would she hand over her seat on the High Council in a heartbeat, she’d give anything in exchange for her sister’s safe return. Nothing was of greater importance to Mira than Elara. 

“Enough of that, love.”

Lilith blinked, jerked from her spiraling thoughts by a pair of golden eyes suddenly engulfing nearly her entire field of vision. Elara was leaning down to meet Lilith’s gaze, a painfully concerned look written across her achingly beautiful features. She was so close now that her forest green hair brushed against Lilith’s cheeks. Her hand was still on Lilith’s thigh, careful not to bear too much of her weight on it, while the other was somewhere above Lilith’s shoulder, the mattress dipping in slightly. She was too close and not close enough.

“Um,” replied Lilith, belatedly. “I…you…” She swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts and failing. 

Elara raised one eyebrow, eyes sparking with amusement. “Yes?” She prodded, lips parting in the beginnings of a teasing grin. “It’s futile to hide from me, I know what you’re thinking.”

No, you don’t. Lilith actually laughed at that, a nervous release of energy. You can’t ever know what I’m thinking. Her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, trying to dispel how her heart felt like it might be consumed whole by the cloying ache that came with being in close proximity to the healer. It had to be a byproduct of Elara’s magic, Lilith reasoned. It just oozes off of her in waves, emitting warmth and drawing others in with its whispered promises. Lilith can’t count on her fingers how many times she’s watched potential suitors trip over themselves to get even the chance to simply speak with the healer. Let alone be the reason her smile’s radiance rivals the very sun. 

“Stop that,” Lilith finally said to her, her hand lifting to block the healer’s gaze with her palm. “Those eyes of yours are enough of a nuisance as it is.” Without those all-knowing eyes on her, Lilith let her eyes roam over Elara as she listened to the sounds of the rain beating on the roof. She wasn’t above admitting she missed the other woman's casual demeanor; some semblance of her basked in the ease of affection Elara was gifted at showering others with. “You start telling me you can read minds now, I will gouge your eyes out of your skull.” 

It was an empty threat, and the healer was aware of it, if the amused lift of her lips was of any indication. “Sorry, love,” She lifted her hand from Lilith’s thigh and lowered the other woman’s hand from her eyes, the unnatural light in them briefly brightening. “You know it’s not something I can just shut off whenever it pleases me.” The healer smiled as she said it in an effort to negate any sting the words may have otherwise had. 

She might as well haven't even bothered as Lilith shifted, stung by the soft words anyway and clamping down on the instinctive reaction to flinch as if she were physically struck. It was, after all, her fault Elara’s spell was now a permanent fixture in her eyes. She stopped the memory of screaming and a repeated I’m sorry before it could reach the light of day. The flare of shame still washed over her, just as fresh as the day it first bloomed in her chest. 

“I admit, I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking,” Elara hummed, interrupting her thoughts a second time in as many minutes. Her eyes followed the healer’s hand as she ran it over Lilith’s forehead, rubbing it none too gently as those golden eyes rolled skyward. “I just know when you get this crease in your brow, it means something’s troubling you, which usually leads you into getting into trouble.” 

Lilith swatted at her wrist, ceasing the action and drawing it away from her face. “You’re mistaking me for my sister. I don’t get into trouble.” No, I just make mistakes. Costly ones, at that.

Elara fixed Lilith with a deadpan look. “I’m sorry, are we saying entering a criminal underworld, -alone, at that- where you’re the single most despised person down there, isn’t getting into trouble? Because if it’s not, then it’s incredibly stupid of you.” 

Lilith’s lips pursed. “Why do I even bother having a conversation with you?”

“Because you love me,” was Elara’s quick reply, her smile charming. “And besides Eda, I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s like pulling teeth to get a word out of you.” 

“That’s debatable,” Lilith stated flatly. 

Elara feigned hurt. “So you’re saying you don’t love me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, either.”

“So you do love me.”

Lilith didn’t answer immediately. There wasn’t a rebuttal. “You’re right,” she admitted, changing tactics slightly. “It was stupid to go alone. Doesn’t change the fact I wouldn’t have allowed you to go with me.”

Elara stared intently at her. She was unnerved by the statement, but elected not to comment on it. Instead, she inquired, “What was so important that you’d risk your life for it?” 

“A portal.”

“A portal,” Elara parroted, her brow furrowed in confusion. “To the human realm, I presume?”

“I owe it to the human,” Lilith replied carefully. “My carelessness cost her way home; my desperation to right my wrongs through Belos’ promise to cure Edalyn nearly cost Luz her life.” She was staring at Elara intensely, willing the healer to believe her. Like it was important that Elara understand. “I can’t ever forgive myself for it, but at the very least, I can do everything in my power to get her home.”

“Oh, Lilith,” Elara said, voice soft, private and full of something that made Lilith’s heart ache. Lilith was struck momentarily dumb at the sheer intimacy of the moment as Elara pressed their foreheads together, carrying the scent of roses with her as her hair fell forward. “Do you not think you could be that girl’s home?”

“Mm,” Lilith blinked owlishly at Elara, who was watching her with that adoring expression that always made Lilith’s heart clench painfully behind her ribs. “Yes, because killing children is a surefire way to a happy family.” She deflected swiftly and thought she saw something that looked like disappointment flicker in the golden depths of the healer’s eyes before she dismissed it as a trick of the light. She remembered with regret why she couldn’t give in to Elara’s comfort. It wasn’t real. Not for her. 

“Almost killing children, and as long as we’re admitting something, I suppose,” Elara muttered darkly. She withdrew from Lilith’s personal space, creating enough distance between the two for Lilith to physically feel the absence of their combined heat. “Speaking of admitting things, we should probably discuss Luz.”

Lilith was grateful for the change in conversation. In a quiet whisper, she asked, “You said she’s processing, so I take it you’ve landed on a diagnosis?” 

“Yes,” Elara replied, simply and instantly. Although, she didn’t elaborate on exactly what. “I have many thoughts concerning her, I’m afraid.”

“As in?”

Elara shrugged, despite the sharp edge of worry in Lilith’s tone. “For starters, she’s compartmentalizing certain events; very serious events that have altered her mind quite dramatically,” she stated calmly. “Usually I’m not one to discourage it; it’s not unhealthy to shelve an emotion for later review, but she’s locking them so far back in her mind she’s numb to the thought of them, love.” She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Opening the boxes just a crack crumble what little stability she still has control over. I can’t say how long it’s going to take to tackle each and every one of them. It’s why I’m here, actually. I need a better understanding of her schedule, I’d like to be able to see, or at least speak with her, twice a week.” 

“That might be complicated,” Lilith shook her head, offering a denial that sounded weak to her own ears. “I’ve already risked too much bringing her here; I don’t think I can guarantee her safety by showing our faces around here twice a week. Someone will start to notice and not even your influence can keep the nobility from trying to get their greedy hands on her.”

“Fair,” Elara conceded. “Which leaves speaking with her. Does she even have any form of communications here?” She tapped her chin in thought. “She told me about her phone; that’s a human device, correct?” At Lilith’s nod, she waved a hand carelessly. “Suppose it wouldn’t do us much good anyway, even if it was still functional.”

“She has an orbuculum she uses to communicate with her friends,” Lilith confirmed. “Though Edalyn’s limited her usage since the whole incident. She’s paranoid that the Emperor might be listening in on her conversations, planning his next strike against her through Luz.” The like I did was left unsaid. 

“Belos does have access to the communication towers, so her paranoia isn't all that irrational.” She chuckled, and Lilith let herself relish the sound. “Mira and I have a secure line, I could set up a scroll for her to use. That way, she can contact me anytime she feels she needs my guidance without the pressures of alerting Eda’s presence.”

“As if.” Lilith made a face. “I wouldn’t put it past Mira to use it to her advantage. Anything with her hands in it isn’t going anywhere near Luz.”

“I will never understand your animosity towards each other,” Elara groused. “Would it really kill the two of you to get along?”

“Your sister is a narcissistic psychopath with sociopathic tendencies,” Lilith back-handed simply and instantly. “What is there to possibly like about her?” A question that will go unanswered as they’ve had this argument before. On multiple occasions. 

“Then what would you propose, oh wise one?” Elara scoffed in a tone as close to annoyance as she’ll ever get. “I’d make the trip myself, but something tells me Eda isn’t going to be made aware of what’s happening with Luz anytime soon, now is she?”

Lilith had to look away from the accusation in the healer’s eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for that discussion. “No. Only when Luz is ready,” she replied, a finality in her tone. “Your presence at the house will only garner more questions.”

“Then what even is the point of any of this?” It came out under her breath, laced with bitterness and something else Lilith was too in shock to identify. Elara stared at her, hostility bleeding into her weary, half-lidded eyes. “I can send her home with a list of experimental potions closely resembling the medications her world provides, but they’re only temporary fixes, Lilith.” She was on the verge of snapping under the thin restraint of her patience; Lilith could see it. “She needs to talk through her emotions. It’s time for her to face her fears and doubts before she is crushed under their weight. I can’t do that without a secure connection to her.”

“I don’t know.” And she didn’t. She didn’t have an answer. She sat up, raking a hand roughly through her hair. “I won’t lie when I tell you I thought this would be a quick in and out. Your talent isn’t like anything the Isles has ever seen before, performing downright miracles like it’s second nature to you. I thought if anyone could fix her, it’d be you.”

“Luz doesn’t need to be fixed; she isn’t broken,” Elara countered in the girl’s defense. “And you and I both know this isn’t some quick repair job that I can just slap a band-aid on and call it a day. I can help her, but I can’t do it in one sitting. So tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”

Lilith considered her words. After a moment, she gave a suggestion. “How about Hexside?”

“Hexside?” Elara repeated, her eyebrow raising curiously. “What about it?”

“Luz attends Hexside,” Lilith explained. “I could ask Headmaster Bump if he’s willing to let us use a classroom after school for your sessions. For Edalyn’s sake, we can say Luz has joined an after school club.” 

“Suppose it’s better than nothing.” Elara gripped Lilith’s hand warmly in her own. A strange tingle shot up her arm at her touch. “Just know that I’m not going to stay quiet on the matter of secrecy forever.” Elara squeezed and let go. “Eda has a right to know what’s going on.”

“I know.” Lilith curled that same hand into a fist in a meaningless effort to sustain Elara’s warmth for a moment longer. “I don’t want to keep it from her anymore than you do.”

Her reward was a smile brighter than the sun. Lilith locked it away as if it were hers. And only hers.

//

Luz didn’t know how long she sat, in silence, before the boredom crept in and the urge to move surfaced, pocketing her phone and the raven trinket as she stood. Confident Lilith was in good hands upstairs, she let her thoughts wander through everything they discussed as she strolled over to Elara’s plethora of bookshelves. She knew about the anxiety she was experiencing -you don’t live in her realm and not hear about the pressures of the world tearing people down until they can’t function properly. Luz just always thought it wouldn’t happen to her. Not a whole lot really bothers her. She can brush off a world of hurt, but the Boiling Isles and the dangers of it were proving to be her downfall. At least she had a hand to hold.

Luz’s thoughts immediately turned to Lilith. Of how traumatic it must’ve been to go at this alone; never knowing the name of what was happening to her; the fear in the lack of control. The unwillingness to speak up about it out of some misguided notion it’s a sign of weakness. Curious, Luz pondered how Elara managed to help Lilith in the end without her knowledge of it, because Luz was pretty certain Lilith was managing it better. Especially in her guidance with Luz at her worst. 

Her eyes skimmed the titles on the spines of the books. Luz was realizing Lilith wasn’t exaggerating when she said Elara was adverse in all forms of medicinal knowledge. One bookshelf alone was catered to a variety of human medicinal books, ranging from anatomy study, cardiovascular research, psychology, journals on a variety of studies of the human body, and even several on herbal medicine. 

One shelf was dedicated specifically to mental health, Luz noted, as she ran her fingers across the spines of the books. She wondered how Elara came to own all these books; if Eda was the one to supply them to her since her mentor was one of the few actively seeking out human items. She also wondered if the sheer amount of one subject in particular was in response to her inability to help Lilith in the past, aside from the fact the older woman never wanted it in the first place.

Luz moved further down, her fingers still skimming the spines, until she stopped on one that had no title on it. She carefully pulled it out of its spot and flipped it open, finding not pages worth of words but an assortment of pictures. It was a photo album, she realized. A moment of panic surfaced at the thought of evading the other woman’s privacy, but she reminded herself that Elara said she was free to browse anything on the shelves. Well, this one was on a shelf; therefore, it meant it wasn’t off limits. 

With that, Luz let her curiosity unfold, and her eyes eagerly absorbed a younger version of the healer; surprised to find she wore a school uniform much different than the Clawthorne sisters. One that was distinctively more posh, consisting of a blue pleated skirt, white blouse, and a black vest -there was even a tie the same blue as her skirt primly tucked into place around her neck. Luz was surprised, to say the least, to learn she attended a different academy, but Elara never really did say they went to the same school; just that they grew up together. 

Luz didn’t recognize anyone else in the pictures, assuming they were Elara’s friends during her school years; dressed in the same posh uniforms might’ve clued her in on that little detail. Luz couldn’t say she was all that surprised to learn the other woman was surrounded by people, as Elara’s warm personality drew one in like a moth to a flame. With that in mind, Luz let herself disregard the unknown faces and merely focus on the same smile she’s come to familiarize herself with, flipping a few more pages before her hand suddenly stills, a shock rippling down her spine. 

In the picture, there are two of Elara in it, in the same picture, sitting next to one another. A realization settled over Luz: Elara has a twin. And while Elara is as radiant as the sun, smiling so wide for the camera her eyes are squinting, the other is...well, the other one is a still framed version of the Elara she witnessed not that long ago when she made the mistake of lashing out at her. The other didn’t attempt any effort to smile into the camera, merely regarded it with a blank stare. It was frightening to think there’s a copy of  Elara out there lacking any of the habitual warmth Luz has grown familiar with in the Elara she knows. 

Luz flipped to another page; it was a misguided effort to escape the emptiness in those eyes, as the proceeding pictures showcased the other Elara. Although, Luz noted, in the few where the two sisters were alone, Luz caught a glimmer of warmth in the other’s eyes as she looked at Elara. It seemed that, like Lilith, revealing emotions around others wasn’t favored, and not for the first time, Luz wondered why. If it was a sign of weakness, wouldn’t Elara be considered weak to them? Instead, Lilith praised her as a powerful healer, and if the curious smile on the other Elara’s face was any real indication, she thought her sister was powerful too. Then why? Why hide?

Luz carried the album back to the couch, reclaiming her perch at the edge of it as she settled the album in her lap. She continued flipping, lost in her thoughts until...

“Find something of interest?”

...not expecting the voice, she nearly leapt out of her skin because she didn’t even hear the healer come up behind her, a screech of fright slipping past her lips. Luz had a mere second to clutch the photo album to her chest before she nearly dropped it in her haste to reel around, her widened gaze landing on the woman in question behind her, a scowling Lilith present at her side. The sight of the height difference between the two women would almost have been comical were Luz’s heart not currently threatening to combust beneath her ribcage. Seriously, the top of Elara’s head barely came to the same level as Lilith’s shoulder blades.  

That startled a throaty chuckle out of the healer. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We didn’t mean to scare you.” Luz didn’t believe her for a second, as her voice may have sounded sincere, her eyes told a whole different story, an abundance of mirth so overflowing in them Luz pondered choking the woman. 

Luz opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Another attempt to speak was thwarted by something flicking in her ear, the unexpected touch resulting in another startled screech. This time, to her abject horror, Luz dropped the photo album; at least it landed on the cushions instead of the hardwood floor. She wrenched whatever was slithering off from her shoulder and brought it forward, coming face to face with a dark wooden engraved cobra, the palisman flicking its tongue at her like it did nothing wrong in the slightest. She was in too much of a shock to scream again.

“Oops,” came Elara’s apologetic voice as it filtered through the chaos that was Luz’s thoughts. “I am so sorry about him, sweetie. Asa gets a little carried when he meets new people.” The other woman gently scooped him from the frozen teen’s surprisingly light grip, the palisman slithering up to curl around the back of her neck. “He didn’t mean any harm.”

“Speak for yourself,” was Lilith’s heated response, carefully stepping an inch further away from Elara, her eyes laser focused on the cobra. She reached over the couch and grabbed the dropped photo album, holding it out for Luz to reclaim. “Are you alright? Do you need a minute?”

The shock evaporated in the face of Lilith’s concern. “Fine, I’m fine,” she said, whirling on the healer as she snatched the album back. “There’s two of you. I didn’t know there were two of you.” She didn’t catch the grimace on Lilith’s face at the words. “Did you know there are two of you?”

Elara looked at her questioningly; then a sudden epiphany and the healer nods. “I have a twin sister, yes. Kind of hard to miss that little detail.” She said wryly. Her eyes landed on the photo album Luz went back to clutching to her chest, a realization coming over her features. “Oh. I see you found one of my albums.”

“One of?” The teen whipped around to the bookshelves, her eyes laser focused on their intent to find the other albums. “As in there’s more?” Are Lilith and Eda in any of them? 

“Oh, yes,” a wicked smile crossed the healer’s face as her hand reached out and hovered over the one Luz held. “This one in particular has a very interesting photo in it.” Her fingers tapped on it lightly. “But I’m afraid strolling down memory lane will have to wait.”

Luz looked over at her. “Right,” she muttered, exhaling heavily. “My treatment plan.” With a reluctance in her posture, Luz’s shoulders slumped and she set the album next to her on the couch. Nervously, she watched as Elara rounded the couch and gracefully reclaimed her dark leathered wingback chair, one leg crossing over the other as she steepled her hands together atop her raised knee. And instead of joining Luz on the couch, Lilith stood behind Elara’s chair, her arms folding over the back of it, a soft smile in reassurance thrown over the healer’s head at Luz. 

The teen tried to remain still, but with two pairs of eyes on her, it was near impossible. Her hands were clammy and to keep them from tapping her thighs in clear agitation, she gripped her knees instead. It was settling in for her how real this was. She couldn’t keep living this way anymore, and she couldn’t just go back to pretending now that she knows someone can help her. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Luz asked after a brief silence. 

Elara immediately launched into the idea of integrating herself into Luz’s school schedule, and with Bump’s permission, she’ll meet with Luz at the end of the school day for three hour sessions twice a week under the guise as an after school club if Eda starts asking any questions Luz isn’t ready for. The healer warned her that at each session she will direct them to more pressing topics, and anything Luz shelves will be brought up in the next. At some point, if Luz pins a certain topic one too many times, Elara will attempt to push the matter, as avoidance in their limited time together warranted more damage to Luz’s psyche. 

Admittedly, Luz was only half listening to the other woman, trusting she knew what was best, and let her eyes flick between the two women in interest. As imposing and cold-natured as Lilith portrayed herself, Luz noted the way she unconsciously gravitated to the healer, her eyes softening to a degree as the other woman rambled, her melodic voice effortlessly warding off any negativity in the room. Guess I can’t blame her, Luz mused with a grin. She felt the magnetic pull to the healer herself, an all consuming need to be surrounded by her warmth. Are all healers like that, or is just Elara?

“As I discussed earlier with Luz,” the cautious quality in the healer’s voice drew Luz back into the conversation, her eyes meeting the healer’s warm gaze. “I have a few experimental elixirs I’d like to test out on her.” The molten gold irises broke from Luz’s to lift her head and tilt it back at Lilith. “The dosage is low, as her human biology is less resilient than ours. But they shouldn’t cause any great concern over the possibility of severely hurting her.”

Lilith seemed to take a moment to ponder the words. “I trust your judgement, but it’s really up to Luz.” She finally offered, a shrug lifting her shoulders. “What are they meant to treat her for?”

Elara softly hummed, her eyes returning to Luz as she spoke. “As you know, one will help with your sleep disturbances.” A dreamless sleep, she promised. “Another will be what your world calls an antidepressant; it’s highly experimental, and if you agree to take it, I want you to be honest with me about any side effects you experience while on it.”

“What kind of side effects?” Luz had to ask.

“The most common you’re already familiar with: drowsiness, dizziness, fatigue, and nausea,” she paused, the healer fixing her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “The worst that could happen is you could experience hallucinations, greater bouts of mood shifts, seizures…” She trailed off, unlacing her hands to wave one carelessly. “If you think it’s too much, or if the side effects aren’t worth what improvements you get, we can either alter the components in the elixir or start from scratch until one works for you.”

Luz gnawed on her bottom lip. “Okay,” she nodded. “I’m willing to try them.” She was looking forward to it despite the anxiety swimming in her gut. Despite the risks. If only to regain a sense of normality. 

Her agreement was rewarded by a blinding smile from the healer. “Perfect. I already have a three days worth batch made up for you, and I trust Lilith’s potion making abilities, so I’ve written out a copy for her to follow when you run out,” she said, leaning further back in her chair. “As long as no concerning side effects pop up, I’d like for you to stay on the elixirs for a few weeks to give them a chance to get into your system before deciding if they’re helping you or not.”

Sounds easy enough. Luz nodded. “I can do that.” She pulled the photo album into her lap. “So, we’ve covered medications, my therapy sessions, and my need for a broader support system. Anything else needs to be said, or can we…” she trailed off, waving the album up slightly. 

Amused, a mischievous glint came into the healer’s eyes. Leaning back a little further in the seat, she tilted her head up to Lilith and asked, “Yes, Lily dear, anything else you can think of before I embarrass you in front of your cutie?” 

Lilith sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of it, is there?”

“Nothing you’re up for, my love,” the healer chirped, drawing one of Lilith’s hands into hers and briefly squeezing it. She swiftly rose from her chair to join Luz on the couch, her palisman slithering off and disappearing out of sight. She eased the album out of the teen’s hands, and then as she began flipping through it, her darkly-bemused expression was replaced by one sly in nature. “Let me tell you about this particular picture,” she said, rotating the album to face Luz, who wasn’t the least bit disappointed by what her eyes landed on. 

It was Lilith with a very Eda -like smirk on her face. 

Of course, Luz immediately yanked the album from the healer’s hands, which made Elara laugh despite the rudeness in the exchange. “Wowsers.” Her fingertips traced very lightly over the photograph, trying to commit the image to memory. “Is this you, Lilith?” Shaking her head, Luz attempted again, “I mean, obviously it’s you. It’s just you don’t smile like that. Ever.” Eda wasn’t kidding about Lilith’s hair being as puffy as a cloud.

Lilith glares, pointedly, at the photograph in the album the teen rotates for her to look at. “Because it’s not me,” she groused, her glare shifting over to Elara. “It’s Edalyn and her despicable body swap spell.”

“You’re just upset she made you her first guinea pig,” Elara teased, trying not to grin too broadly. “It was Eda’s first attempt at the body swap spell,” she clarified to Luz. “She chose Lily here and they were swapped for two whole days.”

Luz felt her expression shift into a skeptical one. “Wha-” Glancing down at the photo again, she then looked up at the healer. “Two days? Why?”

“Because Edalyn doesn’t think things through.” Lilith deadpanned, her glower further creasing her features.

Elara was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, but Lilith’s pout being tossed at her in response threatened to be her undoing, her shoulders gently shaking from the strain. “Eda didn’t quite know how to swap them back yet,” she said after settling, clearing her throat. “She was also having too much fun annoying Lilith.”

Eyes round, Luz whispered, “What did she do?”

“Well,” Smiling a little too wide, golden irises too bright with sly intent, Elara began. “What didn’t she do? Let’s see, she dyed Lilith’s hair fluorescent pink,” with that she reached over and flipped a few pages, and Luz giggled, staring at the bright pink cloud atop a glowering teenaged Lilith’s head. “She racked up Lilith’s permanent record to be as long as hers with the amount of pranks she squeezed in those two days, their grudgby practices were done inside the school, and she decided to shamelessly flirt with every girl in their school, joking that if she didn’t lend a helping hand Lilith would never get her first kiss.” Elara smirked over at Lilith. “Including my sisters, who were all oh so eager to claim Lilith for themselves.”

“Wait.” Luz choked on a snort. “All of your sisters had a crush on Lilith?”

“Oh yes,” confirmed Elara, her smile never faltering at the acknowledgement. “Except Mira, of course.” She waved a hand carelessly. “The two of them despise each other, which made flirting with Mira all the more entertaining for Eda. I believe it’s the only time I’ve ever seen my sister genuinely scared for her life.”

Mira. The name sounded familiar to Luz, but she brushed it off with a moment’s hesitation. “She didn’t actually steal your first kiss from you, did she?” She asked in a lower voice, her eyes on Lilith, who kept her gaze averted. “Eda wouldn’t do that, right?”

Lilith blinked, still keeping her gaze elsewhere. “What?” But then the question caught up with her. “Oh, no. She didn’t.” A flush bloomed on her cheeks as she cleared her throat, her eyes briefly flicking over at them. “I, uh, I already had my first kiss before Edalyn swapped us.” A frown affixed itself on her face. “I never told her, but somehow she managed to find out about it.”

“What?! ” Luz yelped. Recovering herself at the shock in Lilith’s eyes, she went to say with slightly more decorum, “Who did you kiss? What did Eda do when she found it?”

“Her flirting turned into an interrogation,” Lilith said flatly. “If I had any interest in dating, it was surely ruined after that whole fiasco.” 

“Okay, but who did you kiss?”

“That isn’t important.”

“Oh, come on,” Luz whined in exasperation, rolling her head back on the back of the couch. “It wasn’t someone from your school, or else you would’ve mentioned Eda pulling her form of threatening disembowelment on them, which means it was someone outside of the school.” Luz jerked up at a thought. “Was it one of Elara’s sisters?”

“Don’t you dare start,” Lilith growled warningly. It took Luz a second to realize she wasn’t directing the words at her but to the healer, who was suddenly too quiet. 

“I haven’t said a thing!” Elara protested robustly, hands raised in defense. “But if I were to say something, it would merely be-”

“Don’t.” When Elara pursed her lips and did the little lock-and-key motion in front of them, Lilith rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible, and it’s about time we wrapped this up. I need to get Luz back before Edalyn returns from her human junk of a stand. The elixirs, where are they?”

“They’re in my study, along with the instructions,” Elara sighed, waiting for Lilith to nod and disappear back up the stairs to retrieve them before she leveled an uncertain stare at Luz. “Let me start with this,” she hurriedly murmured. “I don’t like secrets, especially from Lilith, but your health is more important to me than Lilith’s trust in me right now.” For some reason, Luz felt like this was a first for the other woman.

Luz waited a moment for Elara to elaborate. She didn’t. “Are we keeping a secret from Lilith?” She hedged the other woman.

“Yes, but not too terrible of one,” Elara hurriedly assured her. She swiftly rose from the couch and dashed over to her kitchen island, opening a drawer and scooping something Luz couldn’t see out of it. She returned and held it out to Luz. “The idea of sending you off with those experimental elixirs without a proper means for you to contact me just doesn’t settle well with me.” 

Luz carefully took what she was offering into her hands, her eyes widening in surprise to discover it was a scroll. “I…” She frowned, her brow furrowing. “I don’t understand. Why do I need to keep a scroll a secret from Lilith?”

“It’s modified, so it’s not one you’ll find on the market,” Elara explained, glancing over her shoulder for any signs of Lilith’s return. “There’s only two of these made; my sister has the other one, which I suppose I’ll have to get from her later today.” She chuckled humorlessly. “That’s certainly something I’m not looking forward to.”

Luz simply gaped at the healer, bottom lip slightly hanging open as she tried to process this latest development. “I’m still not following,” she said. “Why are there only two of them?”

“Joining the High Council comes with a price,” Elara started. “Not even Lilith was privy to that information.” Her voice was pure steel, but her face was impassive. “As I’m sure you know, the High Council consists of the Isles most gifted witches. United, I wouldn’t be surprised if they could take down the Emperor himself, and he must be aware of that fact as well.” 

The implications behind the response knocked the breath straight out of Luz’s lungs. “You mean…” She couldn’t even finish.

Elara nodded. “A life for a life. When you become a member of the High Council, the most important thing in your life is branded with a glyph, one meant to snuff out a life if the Emperor so desires it. It's how he keeps them under his thumb, the awareness he could destroy their very reason for living with a snap of his fingers.” 

Luz’s hands shook from where they clasped the scroll on her lap. “Elara, are you branded?” 

Elara tried to smile, valiantly. It mostly worked. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie.” She meant to be reassuring, but Luz felt like taking the scroll from the other woman meant sending her to her death. The healer must have picked up on it, as she settled her hands over Luz’s, stilling their shaking. “Trust me, Luz, I’m perfectly safe.” She squeezed her hands. “Right now, you need this more than me, and it gives me a sense of peace knowing you have an easier way of contacting me. Which you can. For anything.”

“But…” When Elara looked up sharply, golden eyes wide with something Luz couldn’t decipher, Luz instantly averted her own eyes from the intensity there. She kept her gaze on their hands as she asked, “If it only takes a snap of his fingers, why have the modified scrolls?”

“Mira’s been searching for a way to deactivate the glyph. We don’t see each other as often anymore, so she had the scrolls modified in order to update me on any leads she comes across.”

Mira. High Council. It finally clicked with Luz why the name was so familiar, her mind flashing back to Lilith’s warning about the gifted illusionist. Elara’s twin. After several seconds of tense silence, Luz met Elara’s intensity with one of her own. There were a million questions on the tip of her tongue, but time wasn’t on their side, so she settled for a promise instead. “If you’re helping me, I want to help you, too.”

A quiet, weary laugh. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweetie,” The healer gave one last squeeze before drawing her hands away. “But let’s focus on getting you better, okay?”

Luz opened her mouth to refute the healer, but Lilith suddenly materialized behind the couch, the clinking of the jars in her hand alerting them of her presence. The teen hurried to shove the scroll into her back pocket before she noticed it, while Elara stood and her face began to soften, slowly losing some of the tension it had been holding since their private conversation started.

“Well,” Elara said brightly, clapping her hands together, cheeks bunched with cheer that may have only been partly false. “It was lovely having you both here, and I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon, sweetie.” Her eyes were so warm when they met Luz’s. “Shall I show you two out?”

At those words, Luz nearly deflated. A quick peak at Lilith revealed she felt the same, but she found her voice before Luz could. “Right,” her smirk was subdued. “Let’s go, Luz, before the next bout of rain comes.”

Luz nodded, standing and brushing off any imaginary dirt from her clothes, following the two women with a drag in her steps. Her heart suddenly got snagged somewhere as they made it to the door, and she felt it plummeting away from her as Lilith’s fingers touched down on the handle. She didn’t want to leave. Funny that, seeing as earlier she didn’t even want to be here. 

She struggled to ignore it, mouth working to produce a word, any word, and finding that she had none. One of her hands raised to reach for Elara before falling uselessly away. Then she swallowed a cry and launched herself at the healer, taking the other woman by complete surprise, her arms cinching around her to squeeze as much comfort into the hug as she could possibly muster. 

“Oh! ” Elara burst out, taken aback. She smoothed her hands over Luz’s back as lightly as she could, eventually moving one up to rest on the nape of her neck. “Hey, now, no need for the tears. You’ll see me again in no time, sweetie.” 

You know damn well this has nothing to do with missing you, Luz’s mind hissed. Shut up and take my comfort. After a moment, Luz drew back to gaze at the healer, bleary eyes searching. She realized she was actually an inch taller than Elara. She swallowed thickly, nodding her head. “I know. I just…” She didn’t finish, deciding to collect herself. She broke the hold and staggered over to Lilith and grabbed her by the forearm, teeth gritted. “I’ll be waiting outside.” She flung herself out the door before Lilith could even open her mouth.

She took several ragged breaths before glancing back at the opened doorway. She had stepped far enough away not to be able to hear their hushed conversation, but kept an inconspicuous eye on the two friends. Luz snorted as Lilith merely stood staring, looking like a deer in headlights, as Elara hooked her chin between her fingers, drawing her down to press a soft, quick kiss to her cheek. Elara gave a pat on the same cheek with her hand and Lilith’s eyes rolled skyward, finally stepping out as Elara threw a wink at her and closed the door. 

Lilith stepped up to her. “Are you alright?” She questioned softly, her hand raising as if to reach out for the teen.

Lower lip trembling, Luz told her, “You know she loves you, right?” She never meant to say it, but the thought of Elara left alone with the knowledge she was basically a ticking time bomb let the words blurt out on their own accord. "Like, the kind of love that's more romantic than friendly."

Lilith’s face twitched slightly, and she dropped her eyes away. “She doesn’t.” Milliseconds later, she leaned her head back, appearing more frightened than Luz has ever seen her before. “It’s not me she’s in love with. It’s Edalyn.”

The laugh that escaped Luz’s throat was so bleak it barely qualified as one. “You’re an idiot,” was her deadpanned assessment. She didn’t bother to look back over her shoulder as she headed to the alley that would lead them back to the town’s square. She didn’t need to see with her own eyes to know Lilith doubted her words, denying them in the face of what she believed to be the truth. 

Luz couldn't wrap her head around the fact the older witch couldn't see what is right in front of her.

//

Eda was waiting for them when they arrived home, a scowl on her features. She arched a brow. “You wanna tell me where the hell you’ve been?” 

Shame might’ve crept up on Luz any other day; she might’ve remained to be a buffer between the sisters for the fight she’s all too aware will break out from their absence from the house, but all she felt was exhaustion and a simmering frustration at the moment. “Lilith’s an idiot,” was all she said as she stomped up the stairs to her room. “Un gran idiota estúpido! ”

Eda’s confused “What?” went ignored by the teen, and Lilith was too oblivious to even be able to answer the question; Luz catching in her peripheral the shrug of her shoulders she offered her sister in return. 

Luz needed a nap. And a plan. To end the sisters' curse. To save Elara from possible demise. To end Belos' reign on the Isles. 

Chapter Text

It’s begun to rain. Again.

A storm front had moved in from the bay and was now pelting Bonesborough with fluctuating downpours, a gray haze hanging from one end of the town to the other. It started early that morning, the town’s people taking advantage of the occasional breaks in the weather to complete their tasks before hunkering down again. According to the demon on the news channel (at least, Luz’s assuming it’s a news channel; it’s nothing like back home, that’s for sure) it didn’t appear to be clearing up until late tomorrow. Despite the dreary weather, Luz’s friends still agreed to come over, assuring they can always return home when the chance is presented to them. 

It’s raining. I hate the rain. 

Luz leaned back, unconsciously sinking into the chair at the breakfast table as her head fell back. Her eyes slid shut, listening to her friends avidly chat about the day’s events. Listened even closer to the sound of the rain shifting from hitting the roof to the force field Lilith was recasting over the house, as the one she casted this morning had cracked under the weight of the rain moments ago. There was a time when Luz liked the rain, even if it boils, but she hasn’t since the elder Clawthorne came into their lives. Really, she didn’t like what casting the field does to Lilith. 

Since the curse was split between the two Clawthorne sisters, and through quite a bit of trial and error, they’ve learned Lilith doesn’t have to take the elixir so long as she doesn’t use up her magical reserves. However, a mass majority of spells leave her drained, like the force field to protect the house from the boiling rain. Luz feels her heart leap in her throat every time Lilith comes back down the stairs from the roof with Eda, her pale features ashen and drawn tight in exhaustion. 

Eda still needed to take the elixir, though not as frequently as she had in the past. A supplier of hers, Morton, heard rumors about a stronger concoction last month, and after a trip to the Night Market, Eda was better equipped to handle the curse than she’s ever been. Her magic’s still gone, but she’s confident with Lilith on their side the two of them will figure it out together. Two years in and Luz is wondering if they’re even still trying to break the curse. 

The tell-tale creak of the stairs alert Luz the occupants of her thoughts have returned. She slowly opened her eyes, head leant further back to lock on the threshold into the kitchen. Impatiently, she waits for the sisters, but only one of the Clawthornes enters her field of vision. It’s Eda. The knot in her stomach turns to lead. ¿Está bien?

Eda levels a look at her. Her smile is unreadable. “Well, looks like you kids might be stuck here for a while,” Eda informed the group, casually; not a hint of concern in her tone. “I’m sure if it comes down to it your parents won’t mind if you stay the night."

Luz bites her lip. “How’s Lilith? Is she okay?”

The older woman squeezes Luz’s shoulder. “She’s fine, kid,” she reassured, which isn’t very assuring if Lilith isn’t here to prove it. “Lily’s just got a headache, so try and keep the noise to a minimum, alright?” 

A chorus of confirmations, two cups of steaming tea, and a last-minute instruction not to touch the contents in the cabinet above the fridge later, Eda is headed out of the kitchen and up to Lilith’s room. Luz aches to follow her. Just to see with her own eyes the elder Clawthorne really is alright. Luz is about to follow through with it when...

 “My dad says the rain should only last till morning before dissipating.”

...she nearly leaps out of her own skin at the sudden vocal reminder her friends are still with her. In the kitchen. Working on their homework. Together. She winces. What kind of friend was she that she could so easily forget their existence? The familiar feel of her anxiety is quick to rear its head: that sudden itch under the surface layer of her skin. She scratches her collarbone absentmindedly. Not today. 

Luz shifted back in her original position and centered her focus on Gus. He was seated diagonally from her, a magazine from her world opened atop his schoolwork and a sleeping King situated in his lap under the table. He gave the occasional head scratch to the demon.

To this day, it still amazes Luz how much a person can change in two years -Gus wasn’t some short kid anymore, but a boy growing into a man. He was already the same height as Luz, who had her own growth spurt as well, his long limbs in that awkward stage of developing into smooth muscle. His voice, once upon a time riddled in cracks, was growing deeper and more masculine by the day; the breaks happening less. The baby fat in his cheeks was slimming down to well-defined cheekbones and a strong jaw. He was shaping up to be a real lady-killer. Or boy-killer. Or anything between. Luz Noceda does not judge preferences. 

“He works with a guy,” Gus went on, oblivious to Luz’s inner observation. “Who can, like, read the clouds. It’s insane! He’s right every time.”

“Ed likes to think he can read the clouds,” Amity commented without glancing up from her book. “Spoiler alert: he can’t. It’s an embarrassment the sheer number of times mother’s had to call in a healer because of him.” She was seated directly across from Luz. Her schoolwork is neatly organized around her, while Luz’s work nearly takes up the whole table; some of it even overlaps Amity’s. She doesn’t seem to mind it, brushing away whatever’s in her way when she needs to.

Amity's differences weren't as drastic as Gus’. Her face was slimmer, high cheekbones more defined. Her voice is still soft and smooth. She’s shorter than Luz now, but that’s more due to Luz’s growth spurt than anything else. Her hair, on the other hand, was her biggest change, as she'd begun growing her hair out, still its classic mint green shade, and it fell well past her collarbone. It softened her features and suited her doll-like face well. Luz liked the length. Really liked it. She felt like Eda anytime her fingers itched to touch it.

As of late, The Blights have been hosting a number of balls at their manor; Amity’s explained it’s an attempt at an expansion in their business tactic the Blights are scaredly good at. The balls themselves aren’t what’s important, so much as the rare glimpse of her friend’s hair curled into soft waves is; Amity prefers Eda to do her hair rather than the hairdressers her mother hires. (“It’s like they don’t think I can feel them trying to yank my hair out of my scalp. At least Eda is a little nicer about it.”) Luz can’t help but see a lot of Elara’s features in Amity when her hair is curled, and she wonders if the two are more closely related than she thought, or if the Blight genes are that dominant that you can’t even tell the families apart. 

“I just hope my dads moved my plants indoors.” Willow sighs, glancing out the window. Her chin rests on her hand as she twirls her pen with the other. She's seated beside Luz to be of better service with her plant track homework. They're learning Luz was better suited for creating plants with her glyphs than actually caring for them. (Luz once commented she loved Elara’s plants and the healer had gifted her one for their one month anniversary. Suffice to say, Luz never felt so much like a murderer in her life. The poor, wilted plant was practically shoved into the healer’s hands, and Luz only felt marginally better when the healer assured her it was tough and could be revived. She now receives pictures of her plant, which is as close as Luz will ever get to owning a plant again.) 

Like Gus, Willow's the same height as Luz. Her curvy figure was filling out more in the chest and hips, and if the eyes following her around were any indicators, others were starting to notice it too. Like Amity, she's grown her hair out, the wild blue curls kept tamed in a ponytail by a hair tie made from vines. She still has her round glasses that suit her round face perfectly.  

“I’m sure they did, Willow,” Luz is quick to chime in, refocusing on the conversation. “They wouldn’t leave them to the tortures of the boiling rain!”

“Thanks, Luz,” Willow beams. She glances over her shoulder to where Eda exited, then faced the group again, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What did Eda have to say about the tomb in The Ribs?”

Luz sighs. “Eda said they’d look into it, but it’s been a week already.” She flops back in her chair, limbs limply resting on either side. “How much longer do I have to wait?”

“I’m sure they’re just being thorough.”

Gus nodded the same moment Luz groaned. “Yeah, it’s not like Eda can just magic her way in,” he says, flipping the page of his magazine before adding, “not like she used to, at least.”

“I know, I know.” Luz’s voice was shrill with indignation, and when her friends shushed her, she casted a glance behind her to see if Eda was headed their way -along with a quick peek from Gus at the still slumbering King. When it seemed they were in the clear, she turned back around and sighed. “You guys don’t think it’s a trap too, do you?”

“Do I believe Professor Krill intentionally set you up? No,” Willow affirmed. She closed her book, as it seemed homework was the last thing on any of their minds. “Do I think it’s a little suspicious? I’m afraid so.”

“I’m with Willow,” Gus gave her a weak smile, his shoulders shrugging in uncertainty. “It’s too much of a coincidence to be anything good.”

Luz’s eyes widened, then narrowed in the same instant. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” she slammed a hand down on the table, her friends wincing at the move and King sputtering awake, his head popping up over the table. Luz barely registered him. “Belos hasn’t tried anything in two years. I’ve been out in public on multiple occasions, have walked straight past the Emperor’s guards, and never has my life been threatened. Why should this be any different?”

“Wait, Luz, where are you going?” King asked, lifting himself to sit on the table instead of Gus’ lap. “Eda won’t be happy if she’s already told you no, you know.” Unsurprisingly, he went ignored.

“The deathly glare Eda levels their way might have something to do with it,” Amity countered. “And whether she’s their leader or a wanted criminal, the Emperor's guards are terrified of Lilith.” She waved her pen in a circle before rolling her eyes. “They’re also idiots.” 

“Amity’s got a point,” Gus snickered. “Lilith’s got the whole ‘I can kill you with a stare’ look down and Eda is pretty terrifying when she’s spewing promises of disembowelment.” 

Willow hid a giggle behind her hand. “And they’ve seen firsthand what they’re capable of.” She canted her head. “It’s unclear to me if they even know Eda no longer possesses her magic; she’s pretty crafty at hiding those glyphs.”

“Like the time she set one of the merchant’s tents on fire,” Gus shuddered. “All because he said Lilith would look good beneath him.”

“Oh yeah,” Willow winced. “I really thought for a moment she did it with her eyes alone. Eda looked so murderous that day.” 

Amity rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. “Didn’t he go missing shortly after that?”

Gus paled. “You don’t think she actually murdered him, do you?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Amity replied. “She’s very overprotective of Lilith. Don’t know what for.” She muttered the last of it in the palm of her hand; her brows furrowed. 

Luz sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply. It was a Lilith habit, she knew. But it helped to center the irrational rage building in her chest. The itch under her skin was worsening. “You guys are missing the point here,” she attempted to redirect them back to the topic. “This could be our chance to learn something. Maybe there’s carvings on the walls of the old ways in there, or spell books on wild magic; maybe even undiscovered glyphs. The barrier was made to keep witches out, right? There has to be something. I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” 

Willow frowns a little. “Eda’s not asking you to do nothing. If she says she’ll look into it, you have trust she will.”

 “Yeah, she’s just keeping you safe, Luz,” reasoned Gus. “I’ve heard some wicked horror stories about The Ribs.”

Luz’s voice was grave when she asked, “How bad is The Ribs?”

“The Ribs?” King squawked. Again, ignored. 

Willow’s features turned thoughtful. “My dads tell me if you don’t properly cast protection spells on yourself the nights will freeze your blood solid in your veins.”

Gus nodded. “My dad said the midmorning sun is so blinding you’ll claw your own eyeballs out of your skull to escape it.”

“Not to mention the heat will drive you into insanity.”

 “Which is why you should leave such matters to Eda and Lilith,” Amity growled, her voice raising an octave higher than a whisper. “I admit, Lilith is right when she said The Ribs isn’t safe for inexperienced witches. Besides, you can’t cast protection spells on yourself. You wouldn’t survive a second out there.”

Luz’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest in defiance. “You don’t know that. Maybe my human biology is immune to whatever The Ribs could throw at me.”

The skepticism rolls off Amity in waves. “You caught some weird human cold just a month ago when you insisted on building snowmen during that short snowstorm we had.”

“If there’s snow you build snowmen,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “I don’t make the rules, Blight.”

Willow gives Amity a discerning look, and then she lands her gaze on Luz. “Sorry, Luz, but Amity’s right. Protection spells are important when traveling to The Ribs. Border control won’t even let you pass through unless you’re properly equipped.”

Luz rubs her chin in thought. “Viney’s in the healing track, right?” She asked. “She could cast them on me and I’ll be fine.”

Gus frowned. “As good as Viney is, she’s not an expert level caster. Her spells could wear off before you even reach The Ribs.” He scratches King behind the ear -the little demon was still pouting about being ignored by his favorite human. It seems to mollify him over, his fluffy tail wagging. Luz might have found it cute if she wasn’t so annoyed.

Expert level caster. Luz just so happened to know one. The best. Her hand gravitated to the scroll stashed in her back pocket and then she redirected it to rest on her thigh instead. She’s been in consistent contact with the healer since Elara handed it to her at the off-chance she ever needed her, which started off as simple updates on how she was handling the elixirs to reciting their entire days to each other. A part of Luz was scared if she didn’t hear from Elara the worst may have happened; Luz wouldn’t be surprised if the healer picked up on it; she’s never ignored a single text from the teen. Like three in the morning, make no lick of sense, kind of messages. All she needed was an assurance the other woman was alive.

Luz wanted to bat the thought away in an instant. Elara was already in deep water with the Emperor -her sister’s position on the High Council branding the healer as leverage to keep Mira in line. She didn’t need Luz’s penchant for trouble resulting in Belos setting his sights on her anymore than they already are. But if there was any chance something of value was in that tomb, maybe the rewards far outweighed the risks. In truth, Luz could only hope so.

“I know an expert level caster,” said Luz, unnecessarily pointing to herself. “I could ask her to cast them on me.”

Amity merely quirks a brow. “Why am I not surprised,” she snarked, a smirk curling her lips despite the annoyance showcased on her features. “You’re such a klutz; of course you’d be on familiar terms with a healer.”

“Hey,” there’s a twitch developing at the corner of Luz’s eye, and she’s desperately fighting to suppress the urge to launch herself over the table and put Amity into a headlock. “That is so rude, Blight.”

“I understand,” Amity’s smirk is flawlessly devious as she says it, “ that the truth is hard to swallow, Noceda.”

“Take it back, Amity.”

“Case one-of-a-thousand: you tripped yesterday on a step. It was only one step. And you were looking right at it.”

“Oh, you are just asking for it now!”

Luz is leveraging herself up in preparation to leap over the table at Amity, before Willow puts up a hand to silence their bickering; Luz instantly stilling, her palms flat on the table and one knee raised at the edge. She clears her throat as both sets of eyes careen around at her, but she didn’t flinch under their intensity. “If you two are done flirting now,” she has to hide a smile behind her hand at the sight of Amity’s flush and Luz’s blink of obvious confusion. “How do you know a healer, Luz?” She inquired, lowering her hand back to the table. “Healers tend to keep their relationships strictly professional with their patients, but you almost sound like your friends with one.”

“Are they really like that?” Luz felt her features twist into confusion. She lowered back down to her chair, her face further pinching at the chorus of nods she was greeted with. “Oh,” she shrugged her shoulders with a remarkable lack of concern. “Elara’s not like the other healers then.” 

“Wait, Elara?” Amity sat up straighter, her hand lowered to rest on her opened notebook. “As in Elara Rime?”  

“Yesss?” Luz answered cautiously, unsure of the look Amity was sprouting on her face, a blend of astonishment and suspicion, but Luz catches a bit of hopefulness mixed in at the edges. Interesting.

“And you’re going to ask her to cast protection spells on you?”

“Yes?”

“And you fully believe she’ll keep it a secret from the Clawthorne sisters?”

“Yes.” It won’t be the first. 

“And you don’t see the flaws in this plan? Not a single one?”

“No?”

“You’re joking.” A pause. “You’re not joking.” Amity massages her temples, breathing in deeply. “Okay, who’s to say how long they’ll last on you? Do you even know how long you’d be in The Ribs? Even powerful witches, including the Elara Rime, have to reapply protection spells after a point.”

Luz moves to rebuke her, but Willow cuts her off. “Face it, Luz. This isn’t something you can do on your own,” Willow says it without even a hint of censure. “I’m sorry to say, but none of us are going to let you kill yourself by running headlong into the unknown. Maybe this once we should let the adults handle it.”

“Guys, I know. I know you mean well. But this is important.”

Amity had had enough. She abruptly stood, her chair sliding back with a harsh screech. Her face was twisted in rage; cheeks blooming a bright red. “Do you even hear yourself?” She snarled. “Nothing is worth getting yourself killed over.” 

Luz mirrored her. There’s a pricking feeling in her fingers and up her spine and her chest is constricting painfully. It’s a warning. A warning she knows is stupid to ignore, but she does it anyway. “They’re worth it!” A sound she’s never heard before leaves her throat; painful and twisted. “Two years. Two years and we finally have a piece of information to go off of, and we’re just going to sit on it? Does anyone even want to help me break the curse?”

Willow’s eyes are wide, and Gus is briefly slack-jawed; hurt palpable in their eyes that she’d even ask. “Of course we do, Luz!” They both chimed at once. 

Amity is silent. Then: “I don’t want you to get hurt, Luz.” She folds her arms across her stomach, guilt and fear etched into her features. “To me, this isn’t worth your life.”

The room is too quiet. Dead, absolute, can’t even hear a pin drop silence, and Gus and Willow watch on helplessly as Luz and Amity show no sign of relenting their glares at the other. Oh no, Luz’s jaw is clenched so tight her teeth ache. Her anxiety was spiking to a level veering close to a full-blown panic attack. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye tells her that Willow is slowly putting the pieces together, though she couldn’t really know what those pieces actually entailed, as Elara had explained to Luz once that the majority of the Isles didn’t believe mental health is a real thing and would rather spiral out of control than admit there’s something wrong. It was Luz’s saving grace, but she needed to redirect this before questions were asked. 

It seemed her other saving grace came in the form of Gus.

“Okay, okay,” Gus finally says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “We’re all getting off on the wrong foot here,” and then he stops and takes a breath. Waits for Luz and Amity to settle back down into their seats, the scrape of the chair legs the only sound for a moment. “I think,” he starts a little hesitantly. “That what everyone wants to say is we’re not going to let you do this alone.” Willow and Amity are frowning at him, but Luz is listening, so Gus pushes forward. “We want to help you, Luz, but this might be too dangerous, even for you. We have to think this one through.”

Luz doesn’t say anything for a while; she just bites her lip and studies her own hands. She finally clenches them before letting one drop, disappearing under the table as she fishes into her back pocket. She briefly hesitates, her gaze sweeping over her friends. “You asked me if Elara would tell Eda and Lilith about this...well, I can tell you with certainty she won’t,” she pulls the scroll out and gently sets it on the table; one of her secrets was now exposed, and Luz couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not. “Elara gave this to me sometime ago; it’s been one of the secrets we’ve kept from Eda and Lilith. She can be trusted,” she pleaded. “I promise you this.”

“I-” Amity starts, and then stops. Blinks. Stares. Her golden stare is fiercely defensive as she sets it on the scroll; frowning as if she could obliterate the device with her thoughts alone. “How does this make her trustworthy?” She finally refutes, her eyes flicking up to Luz. “Keeping a secret like this is dangerous, Luz. Keeping any secrets is dangerous.”

Luz ignores her words; they were hitting a little too close to home. “How is this dangerous?” She infers instead, and points down at the scroll. “Elara is an absolute angel,” there’s something dark in Amity’s eyes at the word; a brief flicker of confusion tugging the corner of her mouth down. “She’s a healer. Causing harm to someone is the last thing she’d ever want to do. You should know this, since you clearly already know about her.”

“Everyone knows about her,” Amity scoffed. “Mother says she’s only so renowned because she’s a cheat. And you’re telling me I can trust someone like that?” However, the look in her eyes didn’t quite match her words, that hopeful emotion swimming to the surface of her eyes. She kept flicking her gaze between the scroll and Luz.

Does Amity want to meet Elara? For now, Luz shelves the thought for later inspection, as another stirs a defensive ache in her chest. Cheat. In a way, Luz had to hand it to Amity’s mother; she wasn’t quite in the wrong, even Elara’s called the All-Knowing Sight a cheat herself. It was by no means the only reason Elara was so good at her profession that Amity’s mother was implying to; the healer studied a form of medicine that no one prior to her on the Isles had ever bothered to approach; Elara learned it and mastered it in her own way. If Amity’s mother ever called the healer a hack to Luz’s face, the human could not be held responsible for the amount of hell the elder Blight would pay for her slander. No one messes with Luz Noceda’s friends.

“She’s not a cheat, Amity. Your mother is just salty,” that brief flicker of confusion earlier is now fully sprouted on Amity’s face, so Luz clarifies her statement. “It means she’s butthurt that for someone, who should be but isn’t technically a Blight because your family is stupid, is so powerful she’s the Isles most renowned healer. While your mother is…” Luz stutters for a second, waving a hand in the air as if grasping for words. “Well, I don’t know what she is, but she’s not well-known for her specialty, that’s for sure.” 

Wide, golden eyes, along with a flash of white teeth as Amity’s jaw practically unhinges. Speechless. Amity’s frozen expression is all the witchling is capable of in the face of her friend talking down about her mother, a Blight, and Luz felt her lips twitch into a victorious smirk. Luz somehow manages to calmly fold her hands atop the table, her shoulders set and back straight, instead of blurting out HA! with as much force as she can muster, because in your face, Blight! would be a little overkill. Not that Luz wasn’t tempted to. Oh man, Lilith’s right; Eda is a bad influence on me.

“Well,” Gus chimes in, and folds his hands behind his head as he peers thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “That’s one vote for no from Amity,” he pointedly ignores the dark glare he can feel burning a hole into the side of his face. “Mine is a yes. I trust your judgement, Luz. If you say she’s reliable, I’ll side with you.”

“Thanks, Gus,” Luz smiles crookedly. “What about you, Willow? Yay or nay?” 

Willow settles her chin in one hand as she regards her. “I don’t know, Luz; I’ve heard mixed opinions about Elara Rime,” her tone is neutral, but there’s something peculiar in her eyes. “You never did say how you came to know her. Elara is pretty high in demand; a scrape here and there can’t be the only reason you’re familiar with her.”

Luz hesitates. Willow’s onto her, she knows it. Luz just stares at her friends, with her eyes open far wider than normal and a distinct sensation of breathlessness so strong it’s as if someone just punched her in the stomach. She’s been unwilling to accept -though a small part of her anticipated this, really- that her condition would eventually be brought to light to her friends, because while Elara’s assistance has been a tremendous help in Luz’s ability to better handle her panic attacks, she had to admit she was bound to slip at some point. (“You can either have the cards slip from your fingers, with you struggling behind your defenses to explain to them that you’re still you, or you can have them securely in your hands, with your defenses lowered and your words steady. But no matter what, sweetie, they will one day know, and only you can decide if it’s by your own hand or fate’s.”) Luz chooses fate; it hasn’t failed her yet. Except in the case with Eda, but Luz wasn’t going there today.

“Well-” Luz starts, and then she has to clear her throat. “She’s a friend of Lilith’s. Oh, and Eda’s, of course.” Nice save, Noceda. Mental high five! “They grew up together. Eda’s nickname for her is actually kind of hilarious to me now because-”

“Wait, wait,” Amity cuts her off. There’s an uncomfortable tightness in her voice as she hisses. “Lilith’s friend? Cold-hearted, attempted murderer, ruiner of her sister’s life Lilith has a friend?” Amity turns up her nose. “Then that hack of a healer isn’t worth a grain of salt.”

Luz bristles, her eyes narrowing into slits as her features twist into a snarl. “Amity,” she said slowly, an oh so familiar growl rumbling in her throat. “If you think for a second you can just-” she never got to finish, her words lodging themselves back in her throat at the sight of a black blur rounding on her friend.

“Hey!” King snarls -actually snarls, the sound bone-rattling- and his fur is raised in a line down his back as he stands before Amity. “Lilith is a part of our family now and as a family, we protect our own.” One of his claws repeatedly jams Amity in the nose as he says it, the witchling too stunned to move even an inch. “Yeah, so she’s made some mistakes, big whoop; she’s doing her best to atone for it, and if that’s good enough for us, then you need to accept it as well. Or you’ll find yourself out of here, sister.”

“I-” Amity stutters; it was almost comical how wide her eyes are.

King prattles on over her. “And Elara is the sweetest, kindest, nicest witch you’ll ever meet. She’s like Luz, makes you all gooey on the inside. And she gives the best tummy scratches,” with every word he utters the hair on his back slowly starts to lower and the snarl in his voice simmers out until all that’s left is King’s usual flippant cadence. It wasn’t long before his tail started wagging. “Oh, and she’s got both of the Clawthornes wrapped around her finger.” He adds, almost as an afterthought. “Anyone who can make Eda bend to their will with just a look is A-Okay in my book. Like Luz!”

Amity’s throat bobs in a hard swallow, but she stiffly nods once; it appeases King enough to back away from her personal space, plopping himself back down in the middle of the table. There’s a look of such raw pain spreading over her face that Luz immediately feels her chest clench in sympathy. She forgets sometimes that Amity’s not like the rest of them. Trust has never come easily to the youngest Blight, her parents love out of obligation than real affection and her siblings torrent of embarrassing pranks teetering too close to emotional harm to the girl. She hasn’t had the chance to really sit down with Lilith and realize she has changed for the better. 

“I’m sorry,” Amity says, her voice painfully even. Her shoulders are visibly tense -almost pulled up to her ears- and neck bent demurely with her gaze firmly fixed on the scattering of school assignments in front of her. A perfect posture for perfect discomfort. “I know… I know what she means to you. I just…”

“It’s okay, Amity,” Luz promises, and finds a smile which seems to ease a fraction of the tension lining Amity’s shoulders. She reaches a hand out, her smile brightening a little more when Amity carefully sets one of her own in Luz’s. “You don’t know Lilith like I do,” she squeezes her friend’s hand gently. “And you don’t know Elara. What if you give her a fighting chance, huh? Meet her. See for yourself why she can be trusted with this. With me.”

A nod; just one, with those gold eyes never leaving hers. Briefly, Luz closes her eyes, sighing in relief. She squeezes Amity’s hand one last time, before she’s withdrawing it away from her friend’s warmth. 

“I’ll make a decision when I meet her as well,” came Willow’s careful response. “Though I’m sure she’s as lovely as King has made her out to be.”

“You guys are the best!” Luz beams, and then she frowns, as Gus’ features have suddenly shifted from nonchalant to pinched in concern. “Gus?”

Gus holds his breath. Releases. Chews his lip. Finally, hesitatingly, he voices a thought. “Are you sure this isn’t about the possibility of another portal?”

“What?” Luz sputters, her eyes sharpening to glare daggers at the boy. 

Gus winces at the intensity in her eyes. “It’s just,” he pauses, unsure. “With breaking the curse, I can understand the idea of jumping headlong without a plan from Eda. No witch wants to be magicless. But you, Luz, there has to be more to it.”

“Like what?” Luz hisses. All of her warning signs were flashing behind her eyes. A flare of pain in the palms of her hands confirm she’s clenched her fists tight enough for her nails to pierce the flesh of her skin. She eases her grip. There’s an anguish in her chest at the thought she’s cycling backwards again. She didn’t want Eda to worry again. She didn’t want to disappoint Lilith. She didn’t want to face Elara as a failure. She can’t. Lilith pulled herself from this hell once; so can Luz. 

“Home.” Amity breathes. “A way home, Luz.”

Home. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to them. If she was brave enough, if she was strong enough, to tell them what the word home does to her, even now. What it triggers. If she was only honest with the few people she can trust in this world. Tell them how heavy the weight the guilt she carries in every fiber of her being is from the simple yearning to go home; to leave this dangerous and scary world behind her. Of how much it terrifies her that someday she might have to choose between her family here and her mami. Again.

“I don’t -I wouldn’t- I…” And she needs to get out of here -as in right now - so she’s standing in a flash, rocking back on her heels, horrified. She feels her legs quake with the effort of holding her body up. “I have to-” A breath, a second, and she’s dimly aware she’s hyperventilating. The familiar panic was quickly trampling over her control. She needed to get away. She needed to get away now. “I...need to go.” Breathe!

Don’t let them see. 

Without any warning, she’s fleeing because she has to get away, and she’s kind of in disbelief that her shaking legs can support her at all. Her friends cry out for her; she doesn’t even turn, because she just doesn’t have the headspace to deal with anything or anyone else. And she’s halfway up the stairs when she’s grabbed by the back of her shirt, stilling her panic driven steps. A pair of arms twist her to face whoever held such a vice-like grip around her. A voice is calling out her name, but it’s the wrong register, the cadence higher than the smokey one she is aching to hear. And the eyes are all wrong, golden and gray instead of blue. 

“Kid? Kid, Luz, are you okay?” Luz blinks, eyes locking but unseeing onto Eda’s. Her mind screams it’s all wrong. “I need you to look at me, kid. Really look at me.”

She does. At least, she tries to. “Eda, please,” she begs. The words catch in her throat, sharp and jagged. She grasps the older woman wrists, her entire form starting to shake. As guilt-ridden as it makes her, Eda is only a minor balm to the gaping hole in her fragility in this moment. Lilith understood. Lilith could fix it. 

Eda’s stare is searing. Wrong. Her gaze briefly glances over the teen’s shoulder, shakes her head, and returns her attention back to Luz. “We heard some ruckus. Lily’s a little savage at the moment. Had to pin her down to the bed to keep her from murdering your friends. She nearly socked me in the nose, too. Ha.” She cackled. “Didn’t help that headache of hers in the slightest, let me tell you.”

Luz hiccups. She breathes in once, sharply, through her nose. Eda’s scent hits her -chamomile, warm spices, and comfort. It isn’t enough. She tries so hard to rebuild her foundation like Elara’s taught her. She doesn’t want to resort to the awful medicinal liquids the healer concocted for her. She wants Lilith. 

Eda must notice. “Is it completely gone, kid? Can you regain your ground?” She asks, gently, her eyes searching hers.

She grits her teeth. Breathes in. And exhales. Shakily, she shook her head and then nodded in answer. The older woman’s brows furrowed in confusion for a second before it registered. “That’s my girl,” she praises. A ball of warmth settles in Luz’s chest; she grasps it tightly and holds onto it. “Just breathe a little more for me.” She squeezes her shoulders as she sighs. “Lily will definitely fry your friends if you go up there looking like this.”

“I’m sorry, Eda.” Luz whispers, her hands falling away from their hold on her mentor’s wrist. I’m sorry I’m a failure. I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry. 

“S’okay, kid. I got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Luz sank to the ground, perching herself on one of the steps. She tucked her body until the top of her head pressed against the tops of her thighs, her fists at her ears, chest heaving with panic. “I thought I was better at this,” she choked out. “Why am I still so broken?”

Eda knelt down beside her. “You’re not broken, kid,” she protested gently, throwing an arm across the teen’s shoulders and drawing her into her warmth. “You’re perfect.” She squeezed her gently. “To me you’re perfect. Hell, even Lily thinks you’re perfect.”

Drawing in another deep breath, Luz exhaled again. “Lilith says you shouldn’t swear,” she mumbles into her thighs, her head shifting to the side to peer out at her mentor. 

Eda casted her gaze around, her head twisting to look over both of her shoulders. “Coast is clear, kid,” she quips, a cat-like smile firmly affixed to her lips. “We can say whatever the fuck we want.”

Luz snorted. It was shaky, but there. 

Her mentor tugs her closer, with a light nuzzle of Eda’s nose against her temple accompanying it. “I love you, kid,” she promises, and she scratches at the hair at the back of her neck carefully with her nails, just like she always does with Lilith; Luz can understand why the elder Clawthorne likes it so much. “Nothing is ever going to change that, got it? You think you’re too broken for love? I’ll love you through it. You need Lily to get through this? I’ll be here, still loving you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever stop me from loving you.” 

“Mm, I love you, too.” Luz is nodding -there’s even a smile tugging at her lips- but there’s a muted sadness in her eyes.

Eda must notice it, as she only shifts to press a soft kiss to her temple. “You, uh, want to tell me what’s got you all so heated today?” At the stiffening of Luz’s shoulders, she hushes her softly. “You don’t gotta answer, kid. I’m here either way.”

Mahogany eyes narrow as Luz frowns. “It’s not really all that important.”

“Huh,” is what Eda says, however, and somehow -really, both Clawthorne sisters are particularly talented in this field- manages to convey the level of skepticism she feels in the one word alone. “Want to run that by me again? Because ‘not really important’,” and then Luz is bodily flailing as Eda’s arm slips down to dig into the teen’s side and ribs, drawing out a startled laugh from Luz that has her practically crying. “Doesn’t quite match up with how you responded to it.”

“It’s stupid!” Luz howls, and then hiccups as the fingers relent at her answer. “I reacted stupidly to a simple question.”

“We might have a problem then,” Eda says gravely, and Luz flinches as she hastily withdraws from her mentor. Her thoughts spiral down a line of ‘this is it’ and ‘you fucked up now’, before they’re grinded to a halt by the fingers hooking under her chin, her eyes rearing up to lock onto Eda, who’s grinning from ear to ear. “You’re taking too much after Lily. Separation might be needed; I can’t have three idiots in my house.”

“Eda,” Luz mutters breathlessly, whiplashing from the swarm of emotions, and then they both start laughing. And Luz is instantly reminded why Lilith fought so hard to reconcile with her sister; why, out of everyone on the Isles, Eda is her home. 

“Alright, kid,” Eda breathes, letting her lips twitch into a grin. “I know you’re dying to see Lily,” she hoists her body up with a grunt, briefly rubbing her back before holding her hands out. “Get going before you wear a hole in my stairs with your anxious vibrating.”

Luz accepts the offer, and with a thorough once over from her overprotective mentor, who’s headed downstairs to handle her friends, Luz is sent on her way up the rest of the stairs. She sharply turns the corner, heads down the hallway to the third door on the left, and freezes with her hand on the knob. A breath in and she opens the door.

The room is dark, a single candle lit to encompass the room in the warm glow of its light. There’s a single body occupying the bed, a pillow tossed over their face and an arm swung over on top of it. Luz’s guessing Eda threw it over Lilith earlier, as Lilith is the worst when her headaches rear themselves. She isn’t sure how she makes it over to the bed -she’s too emotionally wrung out to care at this point- she just does, and she doesn’t hesitate to throw herself onto the unsuspecting older woman.

Lilith’s oomph of surprise, along with her pillow tossed to the side to reveal her heated glare, does little to deter the teen as she nestles her head under her chin. “Lo siento,” she murmurs quietly. She closes her eyes and sinks further into Lilith, one arm carefully lodging itself beneath Lilith’s neck, the other curling around her waist and cinching the fabric of her sweater, and entwining her legs around Lilith’s in her need to be as close as physically possible to the older woman. Lilith is stiff in her hold for a moment; still adjusting to Luz’s newest form of physical contact with her. How does Eda and Elara do it?

It’s all sorts of frustrating for the teen, because it’s not the same with Eda. The sisters' reconciliation has ignited the fire of an inner child in Eda, who likes to pounce on her unsuspecting sister whenever it pleases her, who likes to casually lean against her; likes to thread her fingers through Lilith’s hair. And Lilith just grumbles and scolds her sister about how dangerous pouncing on her is, but never, never does she flinch at Eda’s touch. It’s... well, it's a tell-tale sign of old habits from long ago; their rekindled bond blossoming under childhood habits they haven’t had the pleasure to indulge in since a rift was created between them because of Lilith’s curse. 

And Luz shouldn’t be surprised that Elara's in the same boat as Eda. Luz has interacted with the two women enough to know they instinctively gravitated towards each other, one always seeking the other out. Elara’s touches are always soft and sure with Lilith; there’s nothing sneaky about her advances, just a self-assurance she knows how to skim her fingers over Lilith’s wrist, an unspoken command in the way she hooks Lilith’s chin for a hello kiss on the cheek, and the healer can clasp their hands with an ease born of years initiating the same gesture over and over again; Lilith just rolls her eyes at the smugness in Elara’s smile (and yet she keeps their hands linked, so really, Elara has every reason to be smug, if you ask Luz). 

Luz is observant by nature, and a thought has been creeping up lately at the back of her mind; a thought she can’t quite push down anymore. Because while their physical closeness is still relatively new and Lilith is still adjusting to the snuggler Luz is proud to admit she is, Lilith still minutely flinches at the mere intentions of Luz initiating physical contact with her to this degree. At first, Luz thought it was merely a fear of the teen discovering the other stash of scars Lilith conceals beneath her sweaters, but Luz has already been privy to quite a few of them; so it can’t be because of that and the thought is dismissed, which dredges up one that scares the living hell out of her. She doesn’t even want to think about it, let alone ask.

“Tell me what they did to you,” Lilith growled, the rumble of the threat in her tone reverberating around the heartbeat by Luz’s ear. “Tell me so I know how to hurt them.” And then there’s the pleasant feeling of cool fingers flitting through her hair.

Luz softly hums, a warm sensation in her chest despite the knowledge Lilith was essentially threatening to murder her friends. “Mi culpa,” she murmurs. “Fue mi culpa.” 

“Luz.”

Luz is thoroughly unable to come up with a single thing to say. So she just curls into Lilith a bit tighter, until she can hear the steady beat of the older woman’s heart under her ear, and the way her voice echoes subtly in her chest as she continues to mumble out vague threats in regards to her friends. Luz is content to sleepily listen to her, until she mutters that she’ll lock Willow in a room full of bugs. “She’s afraid of them, right? No surprise a plant lover would have a fear of bugs.”

And then Luz is laughing hard enough her ribs ache. “Lilith,” she wheezes. “Dios, you can’t do that to Willow. And isn’t Elara a plant lover? You saying you’d lock her in a room full of bugs?”

“Elara doesn’t fear bugs,” Lilith says matter-of-fact. “But she is afraid of the dark. So, yes, I would lock her in a dark room. Titan knows she deserves it sometimes.”

Luz snorted. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Lilith responds dryly. She shifts minutely to better accommodate Luz’s weight atop her. “I think you’re a little too old for all this cuddling nonsense.”

Luz hums. “No one is too old for cuddles, Lily.”

“I beg to differ.”

And yet, there is no resistance. There’s just Lilith’s arms holding her, her hands stroking her back, until all Luz knows is safety and love. And Luz just hugs her as tightly as she can, and has to fight back tears at the feeling of Lilith’s fingers slowly, soothingly combing through her hair and a kiss touching against her hairline right above her temple. Because this is the real Lilith. The Lilith she could have always been if such high expectations hadn’t been placed on her shoulders as a child. If her insecurities hadn’t shredded her love for her sister and allowed her to curse her out of jealousy; out of fear of being left behind. 

Like this, Luz will drift in and out of sleep, lulled by the sounds of two sets of breathing and Lilith’s voice, so low that she’s almost whispering as she hums some childhood lullaby. She’ll only wake when another weight shifts against Lilith’s other side, her eyes slowly blinking open to catch Eda nuzzling her cheek against her sister’s, who grumpily swats her face away but lets her settle against her for an impromptu nap. Luz’s heart is further warmed when King and Owlbert scamper up the bed and curl up into a ball on Lilith’s stomach. My family.

“I’m rolling all of you onto the floor,” Lilith hisses without any real heat in her voice. “Do you even realize how heavy you all are?”

“If we’re so heavy,” Eda quips as she swings one leg over Lilith’s hip and winds up hooking over Luz’s in the process. “Then good luck rolling all of us off of you.”

Luz gurgles out something she thinks sounds like a laugh, but she’s too tired to put any real effort into it, and Lilith’s entire body just goes completely boneless at the sound. Her fingers resume their gentle combing, lulling Luz back to a dreamless slumber; Eda’s soft murmur of ‘you big softie’ and King’s gentle snoring follow her down. 

//

Amity slammed her door shut behind her. She sighed, her eyes briefly closing.

Amity slid down the wall until her backside hit the floor and then she tucked her legs to her chest, her bag squished between her, resting her chin on her raised knees as she let her mind process everything that happened. She was expecting the guilt over hurting Luz to linger, and while she’s right in that aspect, she’s apparently also vastly overestimated how much she actually knows about her friend. In her defense, the witchling’s always had an inkling there was something more going on with Luz; it was basically impossible to ignore it now, not after the sheer panic in Luz’s eyes floods her mind every time she closes her eyes. 

There’s a sudden buzz coming from inside her bag, nearly scaring the life out of her. With a gasp and a hard bodily jolt, Amity dug into her bag and fished out her scroll, presuming she received a message from her mother or the twins. But when she swipes her thumb across the screen, there’s no sign of any new notifications from the last time she checked her scroll before entering the Owl House. 

Amity frowns, and then her eyebrows spike skyward as she rifles further down into her bag. A second scroll appears in her hand, the case around it styled in various roses. The healer’s scroll. Elara Rime. Amity fights down a wince, recalling as to why she has it instead of Luz. 

(The sound of footsteps headed in their direction, paired with the knowledge Amity knows they don’t belong to Luz, was nothing compared to the blood roaring in her ears as Amity dove for the scroll still settled on Luz’s side of the table. Her hand fumbled as she grabbed the device, and for a second, she imagined it slipping through her fingers and crashing back down onto the table, alerting one of the Clawthornes about its existence when Luz, for some reason, didn’t yet want them to know about it. 

That would be the icing on the cake, as Luz likes to say about sticky situations.

But Amity secured it firmly and stowed it in the bag hanging at the back of her chair, silently promising herself she’ll return it to Luz before she leaves. She’s only just withdrawing her hand when the Owl Lady herself enters their field of vision. The gray-haired witch doesn’t appear to be too angry with them, but there’s a tightness around her eyes that doesn’t ease the tension in Amity’s shoulders. 

“I’m so sorry!” Gus blurts. The boy was practically squeezing the life out of King as he clutched him to his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt Luz. I swear.”

Eda just grins; it’s not her usual one, but it’s close. “You didn’t do anything wrong, squirt,” she tells him. “Luz just gets a little overwhelmed sometimes and needs a minute to calm down. She’s with Lily now, and I highly doubt my sister plans on letting her out of her sights.”

Amity frowns. “Will she be okay?”

“Course,” Eda chuckles, and flicks the witchling in the forehead with gentle fingers. “Don’t want to wrinkle while you’re young, minty. Now, come on, I’ll get you kids home before the rain starts again.”

A quick glance out the window reveals the rain has indeed stopped for the time being. They take a few minutes to stash their belongings in their bags and follow Eda out the door, flicking one last look up the stairs in concern for their friend.)

The memory is batted away by a second buzz in her hand. Amity startles, holding the device away from her as if it’ll explode at any second. A weird combination of feelings churn in her stomach at the sight of two notifications flashing across the screen before it goes dark, because there’s a guilt for essentially stealing Luz’s property -albeit unintentionally, mind you- but also a burning curiosity and a need to know about the renowned healer. The Elara Rime. Because there isn’t a day that doesn’t go by where her mother isn’t backhanding the healer for one reason or another; the amount of hate her mother spews over a person she, presumably, is never in contact with confounds Amity. 

“It means she’s butthurt that for someone, who should be but isn’t technically a Blight because your family is stupid…” Amity isn’t blind; she’s seen photos of Elara Rime, the healer a common feature on the headlines of the newspapers her father likes to pretend he’s reading in the morning. It was a tactic to serve as both a buffer to avoid any interaction with his children, and if Amity isn’t mistaken, Alador Blight is acutely attuned to the knowledge as to what just seeing the healer does to the one and only Odalia Blight, and somehow finds enjoyment in getting a rise out of his wife so early in the morning. So, yes, Amity’s seen Elara. 

You can change a last name, but you can’t, for the life of you, deny the Blight genetics: that particular shade of green hair and golden eyes combo. It was all Blight. The only thing about her that Amity can infer as a Rime quirk was the soft smile shaping her lips. Never in her life has Amity ever seen it on a single one of her relatives’ faces, even by those outside of her immediate family (and Amity’s extended family is huge); not even on Edric, who Amity considered to be the nicest member of her family. So, introspect, Elara Rime is a Blight; a Blight her mother despised. Amity wanted to know why.

With that thought alone occupying the entire space of her mind, Amity drew the scroll closer to her again. She vehemently swore she wouldn’t invade Luz’s privacy any more than she already was, which meant she couldn’t merely message the healer, as that would lead to accidentally reading their most recent conversation. Amity’s not like her siblings, and she’s most certainly not her mother. A simple call was the safest bet. In and out. Easy. Taking a calming breath, she let the device come to life with a swipe of her thumb.

It immediately started buzzing in her hand.

In her shock, Amity flung the device across the room, a thunk resounding as it smacked into the wall. One hand clutches her chest, while the other flies over her mouth, her eyes widened in something akin to horror. Oh no, oh no. She wasn’t so much concerned with breaking the device, as scrolls were magically based and shattering takes quite a bit more effort than that, so much as she was by who was calling. What do I do? What do I do? What. Do. I. Do?! 

Thankfully, she was home alone for now, no one near enough to hear the scroll’s impact with the wall. As if sensing her thoughts, it started buzzing again -somehow louder than before, and Amity scrambled in her haste to stand up. From there she would hurry, though not too quickly, over to where she accidently threw the device, scooping it up in shaking fingers just as it buzzed one last time before stilling. 

For a second, she thought that was it, but it started buzzing again in her hand. Do I answer it? She was already in the process of calling the healer herself, right? But what if she hates me right off the bat? She’s going to think I intentionally took it from Luz. Oh no. 

Well, there’s really only one way to find out. A quick swipe, a second for regret to strike her, and Amity is officially greeted by a face she’s only ever seen on the front of her father’s newspaper. Pictures don’t do her any justice, Amity muses, and even through a screen, Amity notes her smile is still so radiant. 

“Hello, sweetie,” the smile gave way to a dubious raise of the other woman’s eyebrow, her eyes suspiciously assessing her for a moment. “Well, this is certainly an interesting surprise. Who might you be, dear?”

Amity just stares at her for a long moment, because she’s so… so unlike ...and it’s…

And Amity’s tearing up, because it’s so, so not fair for anyone to be capable of such a warm disposition, least of all a Blight. It’s not possible for them, but yet here one is. 

“You must be Amity,” Elara says softly, and when Amity meets her eyes through the screen she just… she can tell that she knows. “You have my attention, little one, how can I help you?”

And of course, that only makes her cry harder. She's only vaguely aware of the fact that she's crying as she stares the healer on the screen. She looks so much like her mother, and yet she looks nothing like her at the same time. ("Eh, all you Blights look the same, don't you? If you let your hair stay its natural color you'd stick out amongst them. Ha. I'm sure Odalia would just love that, huh?") Eda's words never rung as true as they do now to the witchling, because Elara was essentially her mother -if she was actually a decent witch instead of a conniving snake, that is. Except Elara's nose was more of a button than Odalia's pointed one, and her features were all around softer than her mother's. Cataloguing their differences helped to center Amity, a strange amount of tension suddenly leaving her.

Amity leans back against the wall before sliding down it and sinking to a graceless seat on the floor. "I just..." Amity bites down on her tongue and thumps the back of her head against the wall. "There's something I wanted to know, but now I'm seeing it's a childish inquiry, so I think I'm just going to hang up and find a way to get this back to Luz before she realizes it's missing."

"If that's what you want, little one."  Instead of anger to Amity's dismissal, Elara's reaction is a smile; one Amity can't remember seeing before. It's small and gentle, but puts this almost ethereal sort of light in her eyes, and Amity finally gets the angel comment Luz made, even if she isn't completely sure what an angel is. There's also this fluttering sensation in her chest caused by the nickname Elara keeps addressing her by. Little one. It's nothing like the twins and Eda's nicknames for her. This one's soft and personal and comforting.

Amity's thumb hesitates over the screen; a simple tap and the call would end and Amity could pretend this never happened. Instead of following through with it, Amity curls her hand further around the scroll, and her brow furrows as she peers out at her window across the room from her. It was easier to talk without looking directly at the healer. "Luz is being an idiot..." and here she stops, as the sudden soft laughter carrying over the line startles her. 

"I'm so sorry, little one," Elara's voice is saying; sounding softly. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go on." 

Amity blinks, but she keeps her gaze out the window. "Right," she clears her throat. "Luz has it in her head that she can ask you to cast protection spells on her without the Clawthorne sisters knowledge."

"And why, pray tell, does she need protection spells casted on her?"

Amity rolls her eyes. "She wants to go to some tomb in The Ribs," she scoffs. "One of our professors told her about it, and now she thinks it has all the answers she needs." 

"I see," Elara hums. There's something peculiar in her tone, and it's enough to draw Amity's attention to her, her gold eyes landing on a pair similar to hers. "I admit, if there's ever a place to hold answers, The Ribs is bound to be said place."

Amity frowns, a flare of overprotectiveness warming in her chest. "So you think she should go?"

"Of course not," Now Elara's frowning at her in an awfully familiar stern, serious way. She resembled her mother more in this moment. "And since you're so adamant against Luz traveling to The Ribs, I'm gathering you think I can change her mind about it?"  

Amity's frown remains in place. "It sounded like she valued your opinions," she says. "She didn't listen to Eda or Lilith, and Luz is all about Lilith these days." She can't keep the bitterness out of her tone. Even just knowing where Luz is right now digs the knife in her chest just a bit deeper. 

"Oh," Elara breathes. "Interesting." And before Amity can ask what she found to be so much of an interest to her, Elara carried on. "My word alone won't be enough to dissuade Luz from her goal, and I'm afraid even if Lilith and Eda are made aware of the situation it still won't deter Luz."

Amity glares down at her. "What is so important she needs to endanger herself like this? A curse?" Amity feels a snarl curl the corner of her lip upwards. "Aren't you the best healer on the Isles? Shouldn't it be a breeze for you to cure their curse?" Maybe mother's right; maybe you are a hack. Like all the rest of the Blights. 

Elara gives Amity her best unimpressed look. "Curses are tricky things," she cautions, tapping her chin as she took a second to gather her thoughts. "They're all different in terms of their ailments, which means their cure is also different, and without the original copy of the curse Lilith used to cast on her sister, a cure can't safely be crafted." A pause as she shrugs. "Believe me, little one, I'd heal them in a heartbeat if I were capable of it, but without the scroll it's useless to even attempt it."

Amity ponders over her words for a moment. "So it's not a cure we should be looking for, but the scroll?" She questions, lifting a brow skyward. "Doesn't Lilith still have it?"

"I'm afraid not," Elara shakes her head. "Lilith said it incinerated into ashes in her hands the second she uttered the last word."

"So it's just gone?" Of course.

"Maybe," Elara hums. "Or maybe it was called back to whoever Lilith bought the curse from."

Amity ran a hand down her face. "We're basically back to Luz arguing with us that The Ribs is the best option for us, and I really don't want to deal with that infuriatingly smug face of hers."

"That sounds familiar," Elara all but purrs, a smug smile of her own curling her lips. Gone was the image of her mother, and Amity felt a relief flood through her. "If Luz is serious about going, and won't be deterred by anyone, I know someone who can both cast protections spells on her and keep her safe. Lily dear won't be particularly happy about it, though."

Amity canted her head. "And who would that be?"

"My sister."

Chapter Text

Buzz. Buzz. Chirp!

Amity flickers awake; groaning as the light of the sun’s rays hit her in the face just so. And then another groan from her as she rolls over and grabs her scroll off her nightstand, her eyelids heavy as she blearily reads the message chittering away on her scroll. 

Hello, little one. I’m sending Asa on his way to you. 

The fog of sleep is abruptly lifted; replacing it a horror as she comes to realize she only has ten minutes to get ready. This, Amity decides, sets the tone of the day not running as smoothly as she might’ve thought. Tackle on the fact Amity fell asleep with her wet hair piled at the top of her head, one can imagine the frustration Amity Blight was experiencing this morning. Noon, actually. She jumps out of bed; something inside her, something very quiet, clicks unhappily, and she feels unsettled, on edge. 

The unintended curls of Amity’s hair flow down her shoulders like a waterfall; it’s a disastrous mess the witchling just didn’t have the time to straighten out. A quick run through with her brush helped a little to smooth out the flyaway, but the sight of the unruly waves still left Amity fretting. She momentarily stalled to consider the option to pull it all back into the hair tie. If said hair tie could be relocated. By Azura, I swear I just had it in my hand! I don’t have time for this today.

With her hair left to its fate, a toothbrush is shoved in her mouth, a pair of black leggings in hand, with one foot prepped to slide in, when she’s interrupted by the buzz of her scroll. Don’t tell me it’s already here?! I still have four minutes! With that thought, Amity abandons her leggings and leaps onto her bed, body bouncing off slightly, and snatched up her scroll; she swiped her thumb and opened the message. 

Okay, I lied. He might be a little longer. I’m running a bit behind with a few of my patients and am in need of his assistance. 

Amity let out an oof around her toothbrush, quickly typing out her response before setting her scroll down on the bed. Now faced with the knowledge she was granted a bit more time to get ready, Amity felt the familiar sense of foreboding gnawing at the pit of her stomach ease a fraction. She got her legs into the leggings, found some black ankle boots, and dug through her closet for a maroon sweater; then she left her room to finish brushing her teeth in the bathroom just down the hall from her bedroom. A glance in the mirror has her reconsidering leaving her hair as it is.

It was funny, in a bitter way. Because as Amity stares, really stares at the reflection gazing back at her, she’s not all that surprised to see the similarities in her features to that of Elara Rime: the same high cheekbones and button nose and hue of gold in their eyes. When Amity’s thoughts veer towards Luz, her smile is almost identical to the healer’s, except Elara’s soft smiles aren’t anchored down by the expectations the Blight name chains Amity with. All things considered, one could easily mistake them for mother and daughter; their most defining difference being the shade of green in their hairs, Elara’s the Blight’s classic forest green, while Amity’s the dyed mint shade. And, well.

Hatred reared its ugly head at the thought of it. 

Amity hadn’t always hated it, but she can’t remember what it felt like to ever not feel the doubts and disgust and dread that hit her like waves crashing on the shore when she looks in the mirror and sees that despicable shade of warm brown coming in. Her father’s hair; not a Blight’s. It made her stomach twist itself into knots; the sight of it alone always left Amity feeling off. The only reason she can meet the reflection in the mirror today is because her roots had been touched up a few days ago; there’s nary a brunette strand in sight amongst the softly shaded mind locks. 

“I think it’s time you’ve touched up your roots,” uninhibited, the thought filters in. “Don’t you, Amity dear?”

Oh. The way her mother phrased it could’ve been interpreted as a mere suggestion to anyone else, a mother’s nurturing nature. That is, anyone not a Blight. With Odalia Blight -with any Blight- it isn’t; never has been. A Blight shouldn’t be seen as anything less than perfect; something as simple as Amity’s roots -her natural hair color- showing is an imperfection Odalia will not tolerate for long. And though Amity doesn’t mind the color -it’s the one occasion her mother’s ever agreed to a compromise with her youngest child- she doesn’t care for the reason behind why she has to dye it. (“It’s nothing to fret over, Amity dear. It would just so please me if you’d match your siblings. Would you do that for me?”)

And like the foolish child she was -still is- Amity believed her then, too ensnared by the cunningly sweet tone her mother instilled to realize she was being manipulated. She was a child who just wanted her mother’s approval. Still wants it -even now- when she knows -oh, she knows- the real reason her mother wanted her to dye her hair green. How could she have been so blind as to not see it at the family gatherings, the Blights’ golden hued gazes flicking over her as if she isn’t even in the same room as them; never bothering to acknowledge her existence. An immense sense of loneliness setting in as she watches them fawn over Edric and Emira, wondering what she did so wrong to earn such complete disregard. 

Why do you hate me? How can I earn your approval? 

How do I prove I am a Blight to you?

For sixteen years, Amity has lived with the pressure of striving to be perfect: the perfect student, the perfect witch, the perfect daughter, the perfect Blight. Amity’s had to work so much harder than the twins to get where she is now, and in the eyes of her mother...it simply isn’t enough, because Amity isn’t gifted like Edric and Emira -the twins are so, so naturally talented at magic. But Amity. Amity had to fight to earn even a smidge of her mother’s praise. Just one little sign Amity’s doing something right for once. 

Because Amity has already failed her. With her hair. 

Because the Blights go as far back as the ages of the first witches, when magic was wild and free; a time when superstitions were so ingrained in the lives of the nine families they saw them as law. One such is the age old tale that if a mother’s first carriage isn’t to a set of twins ...well, the child is slaughtered and the family’s ties to the Blight name are severed in an instant. Because twins are always the firstborn children, whether the mother herself is a Blight, or her chosen spouse is; there were no exceptions to this. Another, a Blight isn’t to be born with their other parent’s coloring, and if they are, they’re seen as nothing more than a cheap knockoff among a room of originals; inheriting the distinct Blight coloring meant inheriting the power of one’s ancestors. To her family, Amity’s nothing more than a cheap knockoff. And maybe they’re right, because she certainly hasn’t proven them wrong yet. 

“I think it’s time you’ve touched up your roots. Don’t you, Amity dear?”

Amity abandoned any thoughts of touching her hair and darted out of the bathroom. She arrives back to her room to find several new notifications lighting up her scroll. One is from her mother, informing her she’s taken the twins to be fitted for their formal wear to next week's gala and won’t be back till later in the evening. Explains why they didn’t come storming into my room to wake me up. The other has her feeling an odd sort of way. 

I hope you’re a fan of chocolate; nothing quite settles the nerves like a sweet treat!

Amity just stares at the screen, considering her response for a minute. With a Blight, such common courtesy always came with a price, but was the renowned healer that sort of Blight? Amity chose to simply not respond, locking her scroll and placing it in the bag she swings over her shoulder. She strolls over to her bed and reaches under her pillow to grab the healer’s scroll, tossing that into the bag as well before giving the room a last minute sweep to be certain she has everything she needs; then Amity is out the door. 

Her hurried pace has her halfway down the grand hall when something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. She stalls, her hands tightening around the strap of her bag. Don’t do it, Amity. Today’s the day you won’t look. But, like always, she’s powerless to stop herself.

She looks.

Amity met the golden hued eyes of her mother, mocking her in the way her lips curl in a smile fit for a snake, from the family portrait hung proudly on the wall in the grand hall of Blight Manor. She embodied everything Amity couldn’t be; what she wanted to be once upon a time. Proud, arrogant, dismissive, self-serving. A Blight. Beside her, her husband stood as impassive as a statue, and Amity felt a stirring of resentment and bitterness in her chest at the sight of him. Because why couldn’t he care about his children? Why did Amity have to inherit his coloring?

Why was everything Amity did wrong in her mother’s eyes?

Why was Amity wrong?

Amity kept her gaze solidly fixed on the portrait, years of pent-up indignation and hatred coursing hot, almost toxically, through her veins. Will I never be good enough for you? Do you even love me?

“I think it’s time you’ve touched up your roots. Don’t you, Amity dear?”

“Of course, mother.”

The vibrations at the bottom of her bag jolted her out of her head; Amity breathed in sharply, trying to reign in her emotions. Emotions are a weakness, Amity; a Blight isn’t weak. A creeping deadness in her chest blooms and infects the rest of her, pumping cold poison into her bloodstream in sync with the rhythm of her heartbeat. All the viscous searing of her emotions are frozen over and a neutral expression flits over Amity’s face. They’ll be back, Amity knows, so she scurries away before they can swallow her whole, the buzz of her scroll grounding her, reminding her what she has to do today. Who she has to face. 

There’s Luz, of course, and her idiotic need to play savior to everyone, even to those who don’t deserve her selfless kindness; then there’s the whole spiel with the healer. Amity doesn’t like that Luz doesn’t realize what Blights are capable of, and at first glance, Elara Rime seemingly appears to be as sincere as she depicts herself, but she’s still a Blight. And Blights are notoriously known for their painted smiles and false senses of securities. Snakes. All of them. Amity isn’t dumb enough to trust her yet. If ever. 

Amity knows firsthand how it feels to have one’s privacy invaded, and though it went against everything she stood for, the witchling let the side of her that is her mother surface, let the Blight in her research late into the night on anything she could find on the Rimes. Any dirt. (“Everyone has skeletons in their closets, Amity dear. Secrets to expose. Weaknesses to exploit. No one is infallible; one just needs to know where to look.”) All she needed was a piece of proof Elara Rime could not be trusted with Luz. 

And, well.

Amity can’t say if it’s frustration or bafflement she felt when she found nothing; either the Rimes are influential enough to cover up their transgressions, or -for once- those that carry Blight blood in them are actual, genuine people. Amity doesn’t know for certain, but what she does know is the Rimes are a family of seven, consisting of a mother, father, and their five daughters. The mother, once known as Primrose Blight, owns a bookshop with her husband, Joseph Rime, here in Bonesborough; surprisingly, Amity’s never been, though The Blooming Rose was fairly well known. Amity tried looking up to see what branch of family she hailed from; unsurprisingly, her existence has been erased from the family history.

Nothing showcased where Primrose lies magically, if she’s a gifted caster or average at best; Amity’s leaning towards average. No one owns a bookshop unless they’re weak. Her children, on the other hand... well, Amity’s curious nature is further piqued as to why her mother lies her hate squarely on Elara when Primrose is the one Amity would find fault with if she cared enough about the Blight reputation. 

Primrose Rime gave birth to two sets of twins. Two powerful sets of twins. Elara and her sister, Mira, are the eldest, and are by far the most powerful in the family. Elara is considered a prodigy healer on the Isles, her knowledge and prowess vastly superior to those in her profession. There are over a thousand clinics in her name, several hundred apprentice healers studying under her, and though all of her students have proven under her tutelage to be quite gifted in the field, they’re still nothing compared to Elara herself. An article even stated Elara’s magical reserves were so astronomical she could heal the Titan itself and still have magic to spare. Aside from her questionable healing practices, Amity found no trace of malpractice or fraud amongst the articles practically singing sonnets of Elara’s accomplishments. No one’s infallible, but she seems pretty faultless to me.

The same could not be said about Mira Rime, Elara’s opposite in every sense of the word. Elara’s chosen path led her to heal others, while Mira Rime’s led her to break others; if any of the Rime’s catered to the possibility of dirt on their person, it was bound to be Mira, but it was solely due to her position rather than actual choice. As a member of the High Council -okay, scratch that earlier thought, this is who Odalia should hate- Amity could already surmise the other Rime twin was exceedingly powerful, because one had to be in order to win Belos’ favor. Mira is an illusionist on a whole other level to any that has ever existed; no one’s ever seen her scribe a spell circle, and her most powerful spell is lethal enough to leave anyone within a ten kilometer radius of her brain dead.   

Amity’s not so confident that’s someone she’d want traveling with Luz in The Ribs or not. On the one hand, Luz would assuredly be safe from outside threats; on the other, she’d be dead in seconds to a threat she didn’t see coming. 

Though all of the High Council’s roles and missions are classified and its members files locked down tight enough not even Amity’s parents have access to them, it hasn’t completely hidden what the High Council deals in; what they’re capable of unleashing on Belos’ command. Mira has a scarily impressive body count on her. Funny how one twin saves lives, while the other destroys lives. 

Amity had to pause. Didn’t Eda once consider herself the most powerful witch on the Isles? With the full extent of her magic backing her, could Eda take on Mira and win?

Amity also found something of interest on the first set of Rime twins. A similar pattern is followed in various reports, stating one shouldn't look them in their eyes if you value your life. The healer’s a creepy knowing you from the inside out; Mira’s a surefire way to be dead where you stand. 

Is there something special about their eyes? Or is it just paranoia born out of fear of such powerful witches?

The other set of twins, born two years after Elara and Mira, are certainly gifted witches in their own rights, but they’re nowhere near the same league as their elder siblings. One followed Elara’s path as a healer, working alongside her sister at her clinics and teaching apprentice witches her sister’s way. If anyone comes a smidge close to Elara’s expertise in the field, it’s her little sister Poppy. I wonder if she feels like she’ll never compare to her sister? To think Poppy was confident enough to follow the same path as a sister she’ll never catch up to; brave enough to stand against the judgement she must face daily. Or she’s just stupid. Poppy has a wife and two daughters; Amity glosses over them. 

The other, Emilia, joined the Emperor’s Coven, and rose through the ranks as fast as lightning to become a commander at the southern border. Before Lilith’s rise to head of the coven, Emilia had been on a squadron with Amity’s ex-mentor, serving as her lieutenant. If Amity had been the Emperor she’d have chosen Emilia over Lilith as her left hand. I suppose cursing your sister earns you brownie points, huh. Emilia has a husband, two sons, and one daughter; again, Amity glosses over them.

Which leaves the youngest of the Rime children; not much is there on Serene Rime, as she’s the same age as Amity. Amity had to resort to penstagram to learn anything about her; she attends St. Epiderm, just as her sisters before her had. She’s bright, friendly, and apparently very popular amongst her peers. Amity had to click away before she torched her scroll. Aside from Mira, are all the Rimes seemingly friendly faces? 

To recap, Amity hadn’t found anything of suspicious nature with the Rime family, and she’s still confused as to why her mother has placed her ire solely on Elara, because Primrose gave birth to perfect Blights. All of her children inherited the Blight’s distinct coloring and power, even her children’s children are perfect. And next to Mira, Elara doesn’t compare in terms of raw magical ability. Realistically, if it was about who was the better witch her mother was having an issue with, Mira ought to be the one she despised. She’s on the High Council, for Titan’s sake. A position the Blights would kill for. 

Is it personal then? Amity wonders. Did something happen in their younger years that’s carried over into their adult one?

Amity’s still pondering it over as she takes the grand staircase two steps at a time, arriving at the last step just as the sound of careful taps echoes in the silence of the manor. She halts the servant she spies out the corner of her eye with a wave of her hand, making her way to the door and swiftly exiting before anyone can see what’s on the other side. The last thing Amity needed was her mother finding out that what she considered to be a pest was anywhere near the manor. 

The soft click of the door was the nail in the coffin, so to speak. A swell of dread threatens to drown Amity; there’s a sudden realization that she’s actually plotting behind Luz’s back. She’s essentially betraying the human she’s come to love more than anyone. What am I doing? Amity has half a second of reconsideration briefly flash through her mind. What if this is it? One false move and I’ll lose Luz for good. But shouldn’t it be worth it if it keeps her safe?  It all grinds to a stuttering halt when she turns around and comes face-to-face with Elara Rime’s palisman. 

Snakes. All of them. The thought was beyond unsettling so Amity refused to dwell on it. Why am I not surprised it’s a snake, she thought, her eyes as wide as saucers as she locks gazes with the cobra calmly peering back at her. Unlike her mother’s -a snake, of course- that lies dormant and quiet, Elara’s palisman remains animated -even now- its body coiled around the smooth, dark wood of her staff. (“Unfortunately, I can’t enter Bonesborough without my presence being detected by the Clawthornes, but if you don’t mind traveling by staff, Asa’s perfectly capable of bringing you to Knetwell around noon.”) Amity had agreed to this; she was regretting it now. 

The palisman flicked its tongue at her. Even without touching it, Amity can feel the thrum of the magic Elara has infused within it, and as it shifts and hisses at her, Amity notes how eager it is to return to its mistress. Besides Owlbert and Eda, Amity’s never caught such a bond between a palisman and their witch. She called it a he, didn’t she? And she gave it a name.

Amity’s hand reaches out. She hesitates. It’s not the staff itself; she’s traveled on her parents’ alone before, and she knows it will be in full control of their flight. So no, it’s not potentially falling to her death that’s halting her; it’s that she is indirectly placing her trust in a stranger, someone she doesn’t want to trust in the first place. Amity’s going to meet someone she’s only talked to for a few hours at her home in Knetwell. A Blight. A Blight with a sister on the High Council. And not a single person has been made aware of it. I could very well die today...and no one would know. How long until my parents start questioning my whereabouts? Would they even look for me?

Well, when you put it like that…

But it’s for Luz. 

//

“It’s here. It has to be here!”

It was with a depleting sort of patience that Eda lifted the couch cushions up and tossed them aside to spare a lackluster look within its depths. It’s the fifth time; she isn’t all that shocked to find nothing has changed since Luz asked her to check two minutes ago. Unsuccessful again, Eda huffed, replacing the cushions haphazardly. She was too worn down to bother straightening them, which was probably for the best, as Luz nosedived at the cushions the second they were reintroduced to the couch, half of her body disappearing under them. 

Eda spared herself a moment to snort at the sight of the kid wiggling around. Luz was surprisingly springy for someone ready to keel over into dreamland. Or dreamless land, whatever. Eda was much too grumpy for semantics this morning, saving those for Lilith, who was bound to be just as ill-tempered as Eda by now. 

“Kid,” Eda scrubs a hand over her face. “You gotta tell me what I’m looking for ‘cause I’m running on fumes here.” 

Her words fell on deaf ears as Luz pops out of the cushions like a weasel, twisting around so her upper-body drops to the floor to search underneath the couch. “It’s here. I know it’s here,” is repeatedly tumbling from her lips. Sometimes in English; sometimes in Spanish. 

So Eda grits her teeth and moves over to the kitchen to make herself something strong enough to keep her awake until Luz's lost item is found. A very loud part of her just wants to go to bed, but the vast majority of her won’t rest until she’s aided her kid, even if her patience is wearing thin on the whole matter. How does she expect me to find something if I don’t even know what I’m looking for?  The house was in shambles, every square inch torn apart, but there still hasn’t been any sign of it. What she wouldn’t give to return to her nap. From yesterday. 

“Edalyn?” asked Lilith, her voice smokier than usual beneath the layers of exhaustion. She was hunched over the breakfast table, arms pulled over her head like a shield. “Has she found it yet?” 

“No,” Eda whined, flouncing over to give her sister a couple firm slaps on the back. It was hard enough to make Lilith buckle in her seat, her hands shooting out to grip the table. Then Eda slung her arms over Lilith’s shoulders, resting her chin on the top of her sister’s head. “Please tell me you have an idea of what it is, Lily, ‘cause I’m dying here.”

Lilith snorted, ducking and moving her head to the side so Eda’s chin dropped onto her shoulder. “If I knew,” she drawled, hand reaching up to tug on the locks of her sister’s hair that spilled over her. “I’d have used a locator spell already.” She paused, sighing. “She needs to sleep, Edalyn. It’s harder for her to stay in control when she’s tired like this.”

Eda mulled it over. “I know,” she said. “But she won’t rest until she finds it.” She snorts. “Must be top secret if you don’t even know about it.”

Lilith froze, like a shameful secret had been exposed. Which was completely opposite of the truth, since all of her secrets have long been revealed. At least, Eda hopes there aren’t any more life altering secrets Lilith’s still carrying around with her. 

So Eda hums, waiting for an answer, even as shaky hands push her away. Too soon, Eda thought as a wounded Lilith shoves the chair back and rounds the table to create some distance between the sisters. Those same trembling hands rake through the tousled curls of her hair. “I know,” she mutters, more to herself than Eda. “What could she want to hide from us though? From me?”

Eda’s brows lift, realizing it’s not her who has hurt her sister. It’s Luz. Oh, how the tables have turned. “She’s a teenager, Lily,” she tries to console her sister, plopping down in Lilith’s previously occupied chair. “It’s practically ingrained in them to keep secrets. Remember when I wouldn’t tell you who I was crushing on for an entire year? This is perfectly normal.” 

“You’re joking,” Lilith rounds on her, an unimpressed look on her features. “You think Luz is on the warpath because of some crush? That is the most ridi-” She stops, her eyes widening. “You don’t think it’s…”

Eda leans back in the chair, amused. “Think it’s what?” Oh, this is got to be good.

Lilith opens her mouth. Closes it. A flush erupts on her cheeks; then she scowls. “You know,” she vaguely gestures with a hand, as if Eda could understand her. 

“No, Lily, I don’t know,” Eda says with a gleeful smile. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me.” 

“You are so-” Lilith cut herself off with a sigh, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose; Eda has to hide her smirk in the palm of her hand. Her sister was just too cute when she’s frustrated. “Something intimate,” she grits out, aware of her sister’s enjoyment of her mounting embarrassment. “You know.”

“Oh,” Eda snorts. “So, what are we thinking? A disgustingly sweet note? A poem singing sonnets of their love?” She raises an eyebrow. “Or do you think it’s something more adult? Maybe a raunchy picture? A gift?”

At first, Lilith’s unimpressed look deepened to an annoyed glower with each utterance of her sister’s words; then her face scrunched up like she just licked something sour. “Edalyn. Must you? ” Her fingers twitched at her side. “This is not something I want to think about. She is still a child.”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested it,” Eda retorts, a salacious smile on her face. 

“That’s not what I meant!” 

“Then what did you mean?”

“Please stop,” Lilith buries her face in her hands, her words muffled. “It’s much too early for you to be you.”

But Eda was only just getting started. “Ah, come on, Lily, you can handle a little chat about sex,” she basked in the deepening red on her sister’s cheeks. “Luz isn’t much older than I was when I lost my virginity. You couldn’t have been either. Unless.”

Lilith fidgeted, hands lowering. “Unless what?”

A sly grin crossed red lips. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin, sister dear,” at that, she tapped her chin with a forefinger and pretended to fall into deep thought. “It would explain a few things about you. Oh,” she snickered. “I could name a few people who’d be delighted to be the first to defile you. Ha.”

Lilith didn’t react the way Eda expected her to. She didn’t simmer in her embarrassment, flushed to the tips of her ears. Not one bit, and the reaction she did receive from her sister had Eda’s heart plummeting in her chest, because Lilith looked forlorn. Rejected. Like something -or someone- had broken a part of her sister.

Lilith struggled to find her words. “It’s compl-no, I’m- It’s just…” in the end, she settled for, “No, I’m not a virgin,” she tugs on a sleeve of her sweater, shoulders slumping with a weary sigh. “I just can’t-”

She doesn’t let her sister finish that sentence; the cursed form howls, and Eda is out of her chair in a flash, wrapping her sister up in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing as much love and reassurance as she can into it as she knocks their foreheads together. “You don’t gotta defend yourself here with me,” she breathes out. “I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to pry on your intimate life.”

“As if,” Lilith scoffs, fingers fidgeting with the sweater Eda favors to sleep in. “You’re always prying, Edalyn.”

“Okay, yes,” Eda agrees. “But not when it’s such a sore subject.”

Lilith’s quiet. “It’s fine,” She says after a beat, though it sounds rushed and forced. She slowly withdraws from Eda; her expression hardens, the ice in her eyes cold enough to burn. “If what Luz is looking for is in that nature, then whoever gave it to her is as good as dead.”

The rumble in her throat was all Eda needed to know her sister wasn’t joking, and she felt the cursed form respond to it, its claws scraping on the bars of its cage to defend its owlet from an outside threat. 

“Oh, sister,” She bared her teeth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

That’s when Luz came scampering into the kitchen, a sleeping King on top of her head and one of the couch’s cushions squished in her arms. “Guys,” she says, frantic. “I need to call Elara. I need to call her right now.” Then Luz frowns at the sisters.

The color has drained from Lilith’s face, her eyes wide, while Eda turns thoughtful, a look of I get it on her face as she nods her head.

“What?” Luz asks, blinking. “Did I say something wrong?” 

//

It’s for Luz, yes; yet Amity wants to turn around from the moment her feet land lightly on the pavement. I can’t do this. It’s making her antsy, just the mere thought of being alone with the healer on the other side of the door. What if it’s true what mother says about her? She clutches the staff close to her chest, Asa uncoiling from around it to slink down onto her shoulder, his tongue flicking at her cheek. His head swivels to and fro, restless on her shoulder as he peers behind her; whether it’s to the call of his mistress’ magic stirring him, or a different matter entirely, Amity can’t say. 

I can’t do this. This was stupid; Amity can’t go through with it. Her chest is throbbing now, a dull roaring pain that sits on her lungs and keeps her from breathing too deeply, keeps her from regulating it to calm her racing thoughts. She sets the staff next to the door; she tries -emphasis on tries- to lift the palisman from her shoulder. It’s as if he were psychic; he’s coiled the length of his body around the witchling’s neck, tightening just enough to make it exceedingly difficult for Amity to remove him. He’s hissing straight into her ear what sounds like a warning, but Amity isn’t listening.  

The hissing grows louder, no longer in her ear but-

An arm snakes around Amity’s waist from behind, pinning her arms at her side, as a firm body collides with her, the scent of roses and lavender clinging to them. Amity fought the hold, wiggling enough to loosen their grip so she could drive an elbow into their gut. They don’t even flinch, hefting her up like she weighed nothing. She was flipped over, her back slamming with a resounding thud against the wood of the door, and Amity’s distorted vision latched onto the visage of… I knew it.

Elara Rime.

Asa hisses and lunges at his mistress, but he’s thwarted by a blur of motion that Amity can’t decipher; whatever it is connects with him and all Amity can hear is the sound of scuffling on the pavement somewhere beneath her. Is he okay? She can’t see past the hand hooked around her neck, nails bearing down hard enough Amity has to tip her chin up to get air into her lungs. 

The healer wasn’t pinning her anymore, but Amity was paralyzed nonetheless. My arms. I can’t move my arms. They lied limp at her sides, unresponsive to her commands. Why can’t I move my arms? Was it a binding spell? No way. There’s no way she casted! 

Elara trilled. Gone was the warmth. Her eyes are chilly and hard, a deep and frigid cold that cuts across any icy wasteland of emotion. “What an impudent, little Blight,” her lips curl into a sneer; her voice almost toneless, dead. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

A searing pain flared at the back of Amity’s head, stars bursting behind her eyelids as a wounded sounding keen is blocked by the hand pressing down on her throat. No. The word was anguished in her mind, denial trying to shut out all her other emotions, and she was falling, spinning, crying, screaming inwardly, all at once. She’s vaguely aware of the healer’s voice trying to penetrate the cries of denial, and another sharp, searing pain shot through her skull. 

Amity’s agonized cry pleased the healer, her smile as sharp as knives. “It’s fine if so, little Blight,” she tilts her head. “I’ll return you as a warning to the others to not to mess with what’s mine.”

The scream never rose past her throat. The pain in her head bloomed white hot, reaching a level so intense -she can’t. A sudden lack of coherent thought; all she can do is slam her own head back against the door, repeatedly, because that seemed infinitely better than this. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, some part of her registering that she’s bitten her tongue. Please, she begs. Please, make it stop. Someone help me!

She can’t pull in air. It hurts. It hurts. Mom! She’s gasping, trying to get her lungs to start working again. Please. But she can’t breathe past the sheer agony. HELP ME!

“Amity!” Someone howls. 

And at that moment, all faded to black, and Amity knew no more. 

//

“Depends, kid,” Eda nodded absently; she didn’t elaborate further though. Lilith looked ready to faint on her, and Eda took a subtle step closer to her sister to catch her if she succumbs to it. “Want to run by us why you need to call shortstack?”

Luz hugged the cushion closer to her. “It’s private,” she mutters, her eyes averted from them, constantly ping-ponging around the room. “Please, Eda? It’ll only take a second, I promise.”

Eda covered her sister’s sudden, uncharacteristic weakness in her knees by letting her hand splay out on Lilith’s lower back, anchoring her long enough for her sister to safely slump back into a chair. “And why do you need it to be private exactly?” She asserts, keeping her sights on Lilith out of the corner of her eye. She was still so pale, her eyes glued to the ground. Honestly, Lily. It can’t be. Elara’s too googly eyed over you. 

Luz tipped her head up to look her in the eyes, and she took on a grumpy expression that was so damn cute Eda wanted to laugh. Instead, she kept her face as neutral as possible. “It’s important, okay? Just, please, let me call her. I just need to make sure of something.” Luz said with a hint of pleading in her voice. 

“Does it have to do with what’s missing?” Asked Lilith casually. At least, she tried to come off as casual, but the creeping of ice in her voice in response to Luz’s pleading one singled her intention out. The does she know your secret went left unsaid. 

Pursing her lips, Luz chose to say nothing. 

Then they all remained in silence, the only sound their breathing and King’s soft snores from his perch on Luz’s head. Tension rose between them, Eda could feel it creeping into her muscles, tightening them almost painfully. Okay, enough of this. 

“Kid, I gotta ask, and I won’t be mad at your answer,” Eda finally said. She rested her hand on her sister’s back, under the fall of her soft, dark hair. She felt Lilith shudder at the contact and began kneading the muscles under her fingertips. “But, uh, does your lost item...maybe might have… something, I don’t know, intimate evolved around it?” 

“Intimate?” Luz repeated, mouthing the word several times as she’s momentarily confused. It clicks after a second; then she reeled on them, a look of horror twisting her features. “NO!” She screeched, snapping King awake from his nap at the shrill sound of her voice. “I-” she choked on air, shaking her head frantically. “It’s not like that! Why would you- no, I don’t want to know!”

"Well, what else are we supposed to think, kid?!"

"Not that!" Cried Luz, still so horrified. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Elara's pretty. Very pretty. But it's an appreciative kind of pretty for me, not an attractive one! Jeez, Eda."

“Oh, thank the Titan,” Lilith muttered low enough for only Eda to hear, and she rests her forehead in the palm of her hand, shoulders sagging; while Eda wanted to cackle at the absurdity of it all. Then Lilith spoke louder, “Then why can’t we know what you need to discuss with her? You know the Orbuculum isn’t a secure channel.”

“I know,” said Luz, eyeing Lilith strangely. She frowned. “I just need to see her face, okay?”

Eda tilted her head. “Kid, what aren’t you telling us?” Yeesh, what is with this family and secrets?

“I-” Luz opened her mouth only to snap it close. Her gaze dipped down, uncertainty flickered across her face. “Do you know abou- no.” She snapped her mouth close again. “Actually, forget I said anything. I’m going to go clean up my mess, bye!” The words were rushed, like the teenager herself as she made a mad dash out of the kitchen; King barely holding onto her.  

Eda watched her go, a frown on her lips. “Okay, she’s definitely hiding something from us.” She turned to face her sister. “On the bright side, it’s not a secret love affair with a woman older than her.” She chirped in good cheer. “Shame it couldn’t have been that kind of picture. Eh, Lily?”

“All you need to do is ask, Edalyn. I’m sure Elara would give you one,” Lilith muttered distractedly, her eyes locked on the doorway. “Something is telling me we shouldn’t let Luz out of our sights today.”

I meant for you, you idiot, but can’t say I wouldn’t turn one down. Eda put her hands on her hips and cocked her head in the direction of the doorway. “Think she’s up to something, huh?” We’ll discuss your love life later, Lily. Kid comes first. 

“You don’t find it a little suspicious she gave up so easily?” Lilith raised an eyebrow. “After keeping us up all night looking for whatever it is that clearly Elara knows about, just to stop when we start questioning her? Doesn’t add up when it comes to Luz.”

“Guess you’re right,” said Eda, shrugging. “What do you want to do?”

Lilith sighed, raking a hand through her hair. “Shifts?” She questioned, rising from the chair. “You’re exhausted, Edalyn. I’ll take the first one.”

“You sure, Lily? You look pretty dead on your feet to me,” Eda replied, her eyes raking over her sister’s profile. The deep set bags under her sister’s eyes were darker, and her face was drawn tight in exhaustion. Everything about Lilith screamed let me sleep. “I can take the first one if you want some shut-eye.”

“I’m fine, Edalyn,” Lilith said with a faint smile, though Eda wasn’t buying it in the slightest. “I’ll tackle Luz’s mess and get her into bed before she starts thinking that couch cushion is King again.” 

“Fine,” Eda relented. “But I better not hear you complaining about it in a few hours.”

Lilith smirked. “Duly noted.”

//

“Amity? Amity! Little one, please. ”

“It’s far too late. The spell-”

“Don’t.”

Everything was pitch black. There’s a wordless snarl in her ear that cuts off as the voices amplified and faded on the edges of Amity’s awareness. Familiarity nagged at her, but she struggled to place a name with the sounds. She thought she was dead until a burning, grating ringing in her ears told her she was still alive. It was white noise edged with an encroaching pain as she tipped in and out of consciousness. 

“Healing her will only harm you in the process, Elara.”

“I don’t care. She’s just a child, Mira!”

Wha … Amity’s head rolled back on her neck as she’s lifted into a pair of arms, eyelids fluttering out of sync with the subtle shifting of her body. Whoever held her had one arm hooked under the bend of her knees; the other behind her shoulders, her head instinctively gravitating to a warm shoulder to rest on. They were nervous, she noted, their grip on her trembling as they tightened their hold on her. They were scared for some reason, but Amity’s thoughts were too scattered for her to determine said reason why. 

“A child has attempted to kill you before! A Blight at that. Let. Her. Die.”

“No.”

The familiar, frantic voice pulled Amity back. Her eyes blinked open, then slammed close as a bright light stabbed through her retinas. “Mom?” The word was thick on her tongue, and Amity wasn’t sure she spoke it aloud, but there’s a misstep from the one holding her, a sharp inhale resounding in Amity’s skull. “Mom...it hurts... it hurts. ”

“... Amity? ” 

“Mom. Help me...make it stop... I’m sorry. ”

The steps quickened, their voice a constant reassurance in her ear. Up until Amity felt a fresh jolt of pain as her head was jostled, a soft sorry uttered in her ear. As careful as they tried to be to deposit her on the soft surface, nevertheless, her eyes rolled back and a brief wave of vertigo washed over her. Stiffly, she rolled onto her side, struggling to get her bearings back. She pulsed with pain, a throbbing in the back of her head that radiated across her forehead and down her jaw, and her thoughts wouldn’t line up like they should. 

“Easy, little one,” was softly hummed. A careful hand is placed behind the back of her head; it’s warm and probing in a gentle, knowledgeable way. The pain, soothed by the gentle press of fingers against her scalp, distracts Amity as she shudders into the affections. “Just take deep, even breaths for me; I’ll handle the rest.” There is something tender in the voice; Amity wants to curl up in a ball within it and never leave. 

“Elara, ” a static of cold, vicious magic surges in the air. It promises infinite pain, and Amity whimpers under its force. “Don’t be a fool, sister. You can’t heal her.” The voice is jarring; Amity’s instincts scream to flee. She grasps fistfuls of whatever soft material she’s lying on, her hot face pressing into something cold as she settles on her stomach, a groan escaping her. Get away. I need to get away. RUN. “You know the dangers of unraveling my spells; they’re not meant to be.”

“So be it, Mira. I’m a healer; this is what I do. Let this be a lesson to you the next time you decide it’s perfectly fine to harm an innocent child in my presence.” A flood of warmth banishes the cold in Amity’s veins, the whole space submersed in an aroma of roses and herbs. “I will not let another child’s life be cut so short. Not again. ” The fingers press down at the source of her pain, but instead of blooming white hot under the touch, it’s just gone. 

The pain yielded to a tingling, numbing sensation, and Amity’s mind continued to tread through the murky waters of wakefulness. “Mom?” She whispered as her eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry. 

“Quiet now, little one,” A set of soft, trembling hands encouraged her to roll on her back; one moved to cradle the side of her face, a thumb stroking under her eye. “You’re safe now. I’m here.” A breath shudders in a pause. “Asa? I’m in need of you, darling,” the hand shifted, a cold left in its absence, to prod at the back of her head. “Sleep now, Amity.”

When they tried to leave though, Amity made a quiet sound of protest, suddenly clutching an arm in a vice-like grip. 

“You..” Amity blinked blearily up at the face above her. Her heart sank in her chest; it wasn’t her mother. She knew every faucet and distinguishing feature of Odalia Blight’s eyes, and the pair gazing down at her shimmered with a love her mother has never graced her with. “You…you saved me. Why? ”

Elara looked like she’d been slugged in the gut. “Oh, Amity,” her voice is still so soft, her smile sympathetic and understanding. 

She was a vision, the very embodiment of a healing aura; so unlike before. When there was pain. The braided tresses of forest green hair swimming in her memories were gone; it now fell in soft waves. Amity realized even the lengths were different, because it'd been much longer before, but now the ends of the hair just brushed the collarbone. She was no longer shrouded in dark colors, the black sweater and dark pants and leather boots switched for a cream blouse layered atop a maroon, lace up suspender skirt. Wait, that’s...

...blood. Amity’s eyes looked at the blotches of crimson staining the healer’s cream blouse. Is that my blood? Amity reached out to touch, and the healer caught her wrist in a gentle grip, lowering it back down on the... bed, she realized. I’m on a bed.

Reality settled in. Her vision focused. Then she remembers. 

...one twin saves lives, while the other- Amity’s head swivels. 

Mira Rime. Standing stock-still and wordless in the doorway, watching her sister warily and appearing afraid to enter the room. No, not afraid. She can’t. A protection spell was casted over them, Amity realized, the mauve orb keeping the other Rime twin from interfering with the healer, but Amity still recoiled, or tried to, but Elara’s careful hold on her kept her firmly in place. Her eyes still lacked any warmth, though a play of despair and guilt and anguish flitted in the gold of her irises. 

The same face as the healer stood before her, but Amity couldn’t see a speck of similarities between the twins. 

Mira’s eyes bore a cold, empty stare; Elara’s a familiar liquid warmth and soft reassurance Amity didn’t know she needed until it was suddenly gone. If she smiled, Mira’s was as sharp as knives; Elara’s smile was far more potent in person, so soft and real Amity can’t possibly understand how the Blight in her doesn’t temper its radiance. Amity can’t feel Mira’s magical signature with the orb preventing its entry, but she remembers the cold of it; Elara’s weighed down on Amity like a heated blanket, her eyelids drooping under its lulling effect, but she can’t sleep yet. 

“Do you feel any more pain, little one?” Despite the subtle pinch in her features, the softness never left Elara’s tone. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes. N-no-” Amity said, brow furrowing, her head tilting back slightly. Her thoughts were still scattered. “My head feels...are you okay?” You look sick is what she wanted to say, but the words get jumbled on her tongue. Her entire head still felt fuzzy; her emotions sedated under the effects of Elara’s magic. 

“Just breathe for me,” said Elara, running her fingers around Amity’s skull. “You’ve suffered from blunt force trauma, alongside an illusionist’s spell designed to make the brain feel a pain so intense... hm, I don’t think you want to know the gory details.” It was a clinical assessment, but Elara had a talent for delivering the news as if she were discussing something as simple as the weather. “My magic is still healing the last of it; sleep would be preferable, as any further stimuli could tamper with the healing.” 

Amity shuddered, her eyelids growing heavy. “That wasn’t real?” She slurred. 

“Sleep now, my love,” was the last thing Amity heard. Something slithered next to her cheek, a soft hum letting sleep claim her in its entirety. She welcomed the dark. 

//

Luz’s eyes traveled around her room.

Her skin was crawling, a cacophony of voices snarling in her head. She felt hyperaware and lethargic at the same time. She sighs and moves closer until she has her head pillowed on Lilith’s shoulder, with her heated forehead pressing against the cool, smooth skin of the older woman’s neck and a slender arm wrapping around her in response. She is aware of what Lilith’s up to, but she can’t say she’s complaining. Hidden agenda or not, Luz Noceda does not turn down cuddles from someone who’s as prickly as a cactus. Bonus points if said cactus-like witch reads her favorite book series to her. The Great Witch Azura!

“Azura was down on her knees, the fight in her burnt down to embers,” Lilith’s voice is saying; she sounds like she’s only half-awake. Which is true, and it’s only a few lines into the next page when Lilith slips into a dreamless sleep -Luz might have dosed her tea when she wasn’t looking with one of Elara’s sleep remedies- and her head drops back on the pillow; the book lies opened and facedown on her chest.

“Lilith?” Luz asks in a quiet whisper. No response comes, so Luz carefully extracts the book from Lilith’s hand and closes it, setting it on her nightstand. Next, she slowly moves Lilith’s hand from around her, inching out of the bed. With Luz, the sleep remedies knock her out cold, but the curse tends to overwhelm them for Lilith; no one ever knows when the elder Clawthorne will suddenly awaken. And Luz can’t chance her waking up just yet.

Luckily, Luz is able to leave the bed without waking Lilith. She quietly scoops up her shoes and her bag, tiptoeing out of her room. She’s easing her door closed when a quiet hoot nearly scares the life out of her. A glance down reveals it’s Owlbert; right beside him is Eda’s staff. 

Luz kneels down. “So you already knew, huh?” She keeps her voice hushed, mindful of other occupants sleeping in the house. Occupants that would stop her at all costs. “You know what I’m asking you to do, right?”

Owlbert nods, nudging the staff closer to her; Luz takes in a steady grip, scooping Owlbert up as she rises to her full height. “Let’s do this.”

I’m sorry, but you left me with no choice. 

//

“My dear?”

It’s a soft noise, a tone Mira has never permitted another outside of Elara to hear; most of the time, she melts at the sound of it, utterly blindsided by the sheer amount of love Mira has for her twin when she talks like that. Today, it fell on deaf ears. Or maybe she does hear it, just for a second; then disregards it as background noise. Her attention is solely focused on the witchling resting next to her, the mingling of their body heat a constant reassurance Amity is alive. Safe.

She places a careful hand on Amity’s neck, fingers tracing the bruises before a small burst of her magic erases them from existence. Even when she sleeps, Amity has a tiny frown on her face, almost cautious. Asa assures her the physical wound on the back of her head is completely healed, not even a scar left, and he tucks himself under Amity’s neck, the magic infused in him repairing the last of the damage of Mira’s spell. 

If I could save just one… Elara’s seen far worse in her lifetime; she has witnessed the ruthless slaughters and the torture and the pleas of help me -knows the maliciousness her sister has mastered in her spells from her own extensive research into the functions of the mind; all in the name of the Emperor. To remain in his good graces so Elara stays out of his clutches for one more day. Elara’s seen it, yes, but her sister has never attacked unprovoked like this; in a sense, she’s still reeling from the shock of her sister attempting to kill a child in cold blood. And with a spell meant to make one suffer.

It’s maddening, a searing heat that never ceases. It’s not real, though knowing that as fact doesn’t help matters much. Mira’s spell tricks the brain itself into believing the pain is real, and Elara’s never attempted to repair the damage done before, as Mira’s spells were designed with Elara’s healing in mind, and if they can’t be unwound by Elara’s hand, they can’t be by anyone. But, oh, the mere sight of Amity’s face contorting in that oh so familiar pain shattered something in Elara, and she could not let her become another victim of Mira’s senseless killing. So instead of wasting her time attempting to heal what she knows she can't, Elara simply shifted the spell upon herself. 

And what was it all for? Because she’s a Blight? If only she could see what Elara has of Amity’s soul. The witchling is so far removed from her Blight heritage, not a speck of the corruption in sight in the depths of her soul. If Elara didn’t know any better, she’d say Amity was a Rime.  

My fault, she closes her eyes. It’s all my fault this has happened. Again. 

“Are you okay, Elara?” 

I’m sorry is laced in the soft noise; Elara doesn’t want it there. I don’t want to forgive you. Because it’s not her forgiveness that’s needed here. It’s Amity’s. Though, in the end, she knows she’ll forgive her; she always has. Except -this time- there are repercussions for Mira’s actions, as it’s hitting a little too close to the one person that rivals the bond they share. Mira is her sister, her twin, and they’re intertwined to the other in a way that can’t be replicated with another, but Lilith comes so close that it’s enough.

Oh, Lilith. All it took was one look; suddenly everyone else was shades of gray, while Lilith’s a kaleidoscope of color. There’s an inherent warmth in being around someone you love in all the ways one can love another, Elara decides. It’s in her voice -in the look in her eyes- that just makes Elara feel so pleasantly warm from the inside out that it makes it easier to live this life of bloodshed and tears and secrets. Eleven-year-old Elara didn’t yet know that someday her life would be turned upside down -all she was certain of then was that Lilith was it; there could be no other for her- but the Elara of now couldn’t be more appreciative of the flood of dopamine that’s released by the mere thought of the other woman. 

For Lilith, Elara is selfish, which isn’t all that fair to Mira. It is, after all, her fault Mira’s in this life or death situation in the first place. 

(“When I give the command to your sister, Miss Rime, I want you to save them all. You’re the most powerful healer on the Isles, no? Succeed and you’re both free to walk out of here; fail and you wear my mark and cement your dear Mira’s fate as mine. So what will it be?”) She snips the memory in the bud before it can fully bloom behind her eyes, because it isn’t going to do her any favors here. She always says dwelling on the past halts any progress moving forward, and though she stands by it, even Elara has moments where she stumbles on her path, when she realizes it’s starting to wear her down; wondering how much longer she can keep taking it one day at a time. But there are so many on the Isles who need her; so many who are suffering in a way she can’t ever hope to fathom. She has failed many in her life, but she’ll atone their deaths by saving another in their place. Because Elara can’t save them all, but she won’t lose them all. 

“Don’t go silent on me, Elara. I don’t like it.”

Elara rubs her neck; it’s oddly stiff, her fingers brushing the raised skin there. “Mm,” she breathes out before swinging her legs over the side of the bed, wavering slightly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mira.” She replies, swaying. Her head was splitting open; Elara pinched the bridge of her nose to abate the pain a little. She almost doesn’t notice it when Mira twitches from her place in the doorway, the need to be closer to her sister not lost on Elara. She couldn’t not notice her sister if she tried; Mira was the silence in a room full of noise. And as much as she ached to be as close to her sister as Mira to her, Elara would not allow her anywhere near Amity. 

“My-” Mira stopped and shook her head. “Talk to me. How bad is the pain? How far have you pushed yourself already today before this little stunt? Let me-”

“No.” The word stung, not only for Mira, but herself. She releases her nose. “Touch her in any capacity again, and I swear, Mira, I will-” she made to get up, but wavers dangerously. That was a mistake. The room started spinning and a wave of nausea brought her close to losing what little she had in her stomach. Her knees buckle, and in the blink of an eye, Mira stands before her. 

In her lack of concentration, the orb had been dispelled. 

In one fluid motion, Mira slid her hands underneath and around Elara’s body, lifting her up into her arms as if she’ll break if she isn’t careful. “You did,” Mira hisses, and Elara unconsciously presses her face into her shoulder. “Why bother worrying over the Emperor, when you’re digging your own grave all on your own.”

“I’m fine.” Elara was not fine in the slightest. She was light headed and dizzy and every inch of her head was throbbing, but Amity had suffered far worse than her. Will still suffer for it. “Put me down. I can walk on my own.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” instead of following through with her words, Mira cradled her closer. She carried her twin out of the bedroom as quickly as she could manage, mindful of her steps down the stairs lest she wanted to lose her balance and slip the rest of the way down. She brought her into the living room where she carefully hovered her over the leather, wingback chair.

“Here,” Mira said, lowering her down onto the seat and quickly rushed over to the kitchen, the sound of running water grating in Elara’s ears. She pinches the bridge of her nose in another futile attempt to cease the pain hammering away in her head. Mira certainly does not play around with her spells. 

She doesn’t hear her sister’s return, her steps hushed on the floorboards, but her magic gently prods at Elara’s in the familiar way it always has. Mira’s scent clings to the air as she sweeps closer and brackets her arms on either side of Elara, lowering down to look directly at her face. Elara doesn’t need to look to know her sister’s attempting to pick her apart. 

Elara releases her nose and draws her palm under Mira’s jaw. She opens her mouth, but in the same way she knows her sister, Mira knows her. 

“Don’t.” In a flash, Mira reaches for the hand under her jaw, her fingers curling around her sister’s wrist, and shifts closer until she has her forehead pressed against Elara’s. “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say,” she breathes out sharply. “Do you even realize how scared I was? My spells aren’t to be trifled with, Elara. They could very well kill you. Why would you do that? ”

Elara sighs. “I did what I had to,” it’s a truth, though her sister still eyes her with skepticism. “I don’t know,” a sort of lie, because she can’t quite put into words what she felt from the moment her eyes caught sight of Amity Blight, but there was the maternal affection of my child blended in that Mira would not understand. “She’s just a little girl, Mira. A little girl in desperate need of love. Harmless.”

Mira knocks her forehead sharply against her sister’s. “Have you taken one too many blows to the head, sister?” She questions, a snarled edge in her words. “Need I remind you it was a seemingly harmless child who fooled you into dropping your guard once before?”

“Mira,” Elara warns. Don’t go there. But her sister isn’t listening. 

“No, Elara, you don’t get to keep doing this,” Mira clenches her jaw tight enough for Elara to feel the muscles twitch beneath her fingertips. “I almost lost you. Do you know what that did to me, to see you so close to death?” She shook her head, clearly trying to sort through her emotions. “To watch you mourn over the one responsible?” Elara’s frown didn’t stop the flow of words from her sister. “To look at me like I was the enemy when all I was doing was protecting you.” 

Elara blinked back the tears that were suddenly in her eyes as she tried to draw in a breath. “Protecting me? Is that what we’re calling it?” She manages to gasp out between clenched teeth. Stop, this isn’t me. I’m not this person. But wasn’t it? “You played judge, jury, and executioner before she could even defend herself.” Her body felt paralyzed, numb, cold. She didn’t notice the trembling in her hands until Mira clasped them both in hers. “You took her choice away; almost did the same to Amity, so if anyone doesn’t keep getting to do this it’s you.”

Mira’s gaze never wavered. “You’re too soft,” she said, looking angry and hurt. Scared. “The Isles’ secrets are written out for your eyes to see, but you’re so damn blind where it matters. Useless. Ignorant like the rest of them.” She squeezes Elara’s hands like they’re her lifeline. “I do this because you can’t. I keep you alive, because one of us has to.”

“I don’t want to keep living if it means a stack of bodies follow me for the rest of my life,” Elara smiles thinly. “Her life mattered; Amity’s life matters. Children are the future of the Isles, Mira; I’m soft for them because I’ve seen what this world has done to them; how it’s turned them into weapons for the Emperor by the very hands meant to cherish them, love them. No one should have the power to decide who lives and who dies, like one life is worth less than another. Because all lives matter. ”

“If all life matters,” Mira blinks, now lost entirely. “Then shouldn’t you want to live? Your life matters. You’ve single-handedly altered the course of the healing arts; uprooted its very foundation and planted a new growth into the soil. You. None of that would have come to fruition if others hadn’t died in your place.”

“Oh,” a false laugh rang out. “I highly doubt that, my dear. There will always come someone better; there’s going to be a day a witchling comes along and suddenly I will be in their shadow. And I welcome the thought with open arms, because it means the Isles’ future is a bright one.” 

“You can’t mean that.”

“But I do.”

It’s not reassuring, Elara thinks, the way Mira’s lips thin; watches her, uncomprehending, but keeps Elara’s hands in hers. She came to a conclusion of her own; her only response: “Did you want to keep her? Keep this Blight?” Like their pets. She released a hand and brought it up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her twin’s cheek. “If it’s children you want, my dear, I can find you one much better suited for you. Just give me the word.”

(“I’m numb inside; I don’t feel things like I know I should, and the only time I do feel something it’s because of you. I might be your silence, but you’re my noise.”) Right. Elara tilted her head back, dislodging Mira’s hand from her cheek. “That’s not what I want, Mira,” She knitted her brows together in frustration. She hated the anger pulsing under her skin; it wasn’t in her nature to succumb to it, but there was something about Amity that flipped a switch in her. A roaring in her that called to protect. 

Mira frowned, still so lost it physically hurt to see. “Oh.”

“Besides, my life isn’t exactly fit for children, now is it?” She felt a smirk nudge itself in place, unable to help it. “Well, unless Lilith decides she wants them. Then, by all means, I’d give her as many as she wants.” Because Lilith makes me want things I can’t have. Selfish in ways everyone else can freely be. 

Mira lowered back down, the palms of her hands resting on Elara’s knees. “Lilith makes a fool of you, Elara,” She huffs. “More than you already are.” One hand abandons its perch to reach for a wet cloth Elara failed to notice before. “A number of suitors were lined up for your hand; you could’ve been married by now, with kids of your own; happy,” she takes hold of Elara’s hand, the one caked in dried blood. Amity’s blood. “Instead you chase after someone I’d sooner bury in the ground than ever find suitable as a mate. Why even bother? She’s hurt you.”

“You hurt me as well,” Over and over again. Elara’s voice was soft, almost gentle, as she asserted, “As I have hurt you, because sometimes we hurt the ones we love. It’s just in our nature, but we also forgive.”

Mira brushes the cloth against Elara’s skin, the sure, gentle administrations at odds with the confusion etched into her features. “Do I even deserve your forgiveness?” She questions; hesitates as she trains her eyes on the floor, steadfastly refusing to meet Elara’s gaze. “You form such attachments to the people in your life, and I know I’ve hurt you by taking so many from you. But the only attachment I have is you, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” 

“Oh, Mira,” Elara breathes, her smile sad. I know. That’s what hurts me. 

Mira lifts her eyes, a hard glint reflecting in the golden hue. “If it came down to you or them, it’s you, without question, every single time. I’ll hurt you a thousand more times for it, I know it.” She pauses, deliberating. “I’m almost glad I can’t love anyone else; it’s just a weakness to be exploited, and I’m compromised by you as it is.” 

Weak. He’s done that to you. Elara stared at Mira intently, watching the flicker of emotions reflect in her sister’s eyes. She pursed her lips together in silent deliberation. You’d be free if it weren’t for me. “I love you,” Elara said, taking a hold of her sister’s hands, the cloth squeezed between their palms. “And loving someone isn’t a weakness, my love. It’s those who’d use it against us that are weak.”

Mira leveled her with a cold, glassy stare, studying her carefully. “You’re my equal, Elara,” she said quietly, almost clinically. “I’ll end all life on the Isles if I lost you.” She pauses, separating their hands, her eyes downcast. “And it may very well come to that.”

What? Elara blinks a few times. “I beg your pardon?”

Mira levels her with a look Elara can’t quite read before dropping her gaze again. “We’re on the brink of war, my dear.” 

Another blink. “Okay, I know the families have grown restless in recent years,” Elara murmurs, not quite sure where her sister is going with this. “Whatever had swayed them in the beginning has lost its power over time, but to say a war is brewing? What of the Emperor?” 

Mira is silent for a moment. “The Emperor has never been worried about it before,” she allots. “The High Council is powerful enough to annihilate all that lives on the Isles, and with the one witch actually powerful enough to stand against us crippled by a curse, one would think he’d continue to not worry about the families and their petty squabbles.” Her eyes lift to meet Elara’s. “Imagine my astonishment when I learned he’s nervous.”

Elara tilts her head. “Nervous? The Emperor? You’re joking.”

“Not joking,” Mira replies wryly, getting up. “He’s been working on something these last two years. The High Council has been stretched thin across the Isles in search of its pieces.” Elara follows her with her eyes as she strolls back into the kitchen. “I’m assuming it’s almost finished now, as he’s called us all back. We’re to have an audience with him in the morning.”

Elara winced as the water ran again. “Explains why you’re here,” she ran shaking fingers over her brow. Elara’s magic was still attempting to dilute her sister’s, but it was taking time. “I wasn’t meant to see you until tomorrow.”

No comment followed after her words. Mira walked back towards her, and when she moved to stand, her sister’s hand sunk on Elara’s shoulder to hold her in place; her nails dug into the material of her blouse. “There’s more,” The words were a quiet whisper, but rather than soothe her, they launched a slow simmer of panic in Elara, because Mira only used that tone when she knew what she says next will do to her sister. “I had to kill sixteen children yesterday.” A pause. “ All of them Blights.”

Elara stiffened. “Sixteen?” A worried sadness seeped into her tone, mirroring the expression in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to her sister. “Why, Mira?”

Mira seemed to understand what she was asking, as she was no longer capable of looking at her. She lowered her head in shameful guilt. Elara knew her sister well enough to know it wasn’t for the lives she took -they never meant anything to Mira, just flesh and bone made animated; all threats to Elara in her eyes. It’s the awareness of the anguish it causes for Elara to know Mira so ruthlessly takes lives for her benefit. To keep Elara alive. 

“They found out,” Mira snapped, the edge of her anger wavering in the face of her distraught twin. “I don’t know how they found out, but they did, and I couldn’t let them find you out.”

Elara reached up and touched Mira’s face, hooking her thumb and finger on Mira’s chin and forcing her down to be at eye level with her, because continuously tilting her head up was horrible for the pain drumming in her head. “What are you talking about? What did they find out? And why did they need to die for it?” She couldn’t get a read on her sister; Mira was one of the few who knew how to block the All-Knowing Sight. “Mira?”

In a deadpan, Mira answered. “The death glyphs.”

Elara felt the bottom drop out, and a wave of vertigo washed over her. It hurts. She clutches her head with both hands and leans forward, breathing heavily. She can feel Asa’s concern rippling in her magic, but she orders him to remain with Amity.

(“You’re the most powerful healer on the Isles, no?”) She squeezed her eyes shut. (“I want you to save them all.”) She could feel her body shaking, could hear Mira’s voice speaking to her but the words were distorted, as if she were speaking from a vast distance. Spots danced and sparkled before her eyes, the searing in her head amplifying at the sound of that voice ricocheting between her ears. Stop, she wants to beg, though she doesn’t know who it’s meant for. (“I’m sorry! I- this is all my fault. Please...I should’ve known.”)

“Elara!” A touch on her shoulder snapped her back to reality, and she jerked her shoulder away, a gasp escaping her as the muscles wrenched. Mira’s hands didn’t hesitate to clutch the sides of her face, her sharp, sharp gaze flitting between concern and righteous fury. “Don’t go silent on me, Elara,” she commands. Pleads. “Talk to me. Do you need me to block it?”

Yes. “No,” She manages to gasp out between gritted teeth. She feels a soft touch and realizes that Mira’s combing her fingers through her hair. Gentle, trembling strokes. “My magic is still warring with yours,” she admits, reluctantly. “Why did you have to be so efficient with your spells, my love? You’re killing me.” Quite literally. She shakes her head. “Are the others compromised?” She breathes out through the pain. Tell me they’re safe. 

Mira’s face is twisted into concern and something else. “No,” the word was calm, in an obvious attempt to console Elara. “We made sure none made it out of there alive with the information, but they still hold the knowledge the glyphs exist and will attempt it again.” She paused, wordlessly pulling her sister close to rest her forehead against Elara’s temple, comforting her in the only way she’s ever known how to. “It’s most likely one of the reasons why the Emperor has called us back.”

“I don’t understand the Blights.” The fire in Elara’s chest roars, anger licking hot again. How many of the younger generation has she watched be withered down to nothing but their parents’ clones? All of their potential going down the drain in the families’ ever burning desire to prove their better than the other. “Why send children into a viper’s nest? They never stood a chance against any of you.” 

“They must have thought we’d hesitate,” Mira assumes, her voice is toneless, dead, unwavering. “They ought to have known we wouldn’t hesitate to protect the identities of our loved ones.”

Control the High Council and you control the fate of the Isles. The room is spinning and Elara has to sink her teeth into her lip as she fights a wave of nausea and pain. She knocks her forehead into Mira’s to dispel the pain for a second. “What would the Emperor do in that situation? Killing us himself would result in you willingly annihilating him, but letting you be controlled by another…” She trails off; she doesn’t want to dwell on the fact her fate lies in the hands of those seeking power.  

Mira closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I don’t know,” her voice is hoarse, and even in her state, Elara can sense the panic and urgency in it. “It’s why, I must admit, I snapped on the Blight girl up there,” she continues in a whisper. “After yesterday...I would sooner give my life than let any harm come to you, Elara. That is an absolute truth. And if I lose you, the Isles will feel-”

“No,” Elara interrupted her with two fingers on her lips, and her sister continues to look at her with those sharp, sharp eyes. “I’m not in any real danger of dying yet, my love.” That is a bit of a lie, she’ll admit to herself. Elara is the Isles most powerful healer, yes, but when it comes to spell casting, Mira wins by a landslide; up against Mira’s magic, Elara is losing. But that’s a concern for later.

“You never take this seriously,” Mira says with an expression of disbelief. Something lurked in her eyes, but what Elara didn’t know. “The Emperor may very well execute an order tomorrow to hide you somewhere I will not even know the knowledge of. What if he decides protecting you isn’t worth it? What if he kills you and leads me to believe you’re still alive?”

Oh, I don’t doubt that’s his intention. Elara worried her sister’s bottom lip with her thumb, a futile attempt to dislodge the frown permanently affixed on her face. “We can waste our time on what-ifs if that’s what you want,” she drew back. “Or you can hear me out about a potential lead on the Clawthorne sisters’ curse.” Because however this plays out I don’t think I’m going to make it, but they can end Belos once and for all. End the cycle of death. 

Mira’s eyes narrow, a calculated look in her eyes, but Elara’s a master of concealing the truth -perks of a lifetime of studying others. Momentarily thwarted, Mira rests her chin on her palm, her elbow braced on the armrest of the chair. “And how do you figure? We’ve combed the Isles for answers and have found none.”

Elara closed her eyes, her head tipped back against the back of the chair. “Apparently,” She hums. “There’s a tomb in The Ribs only a human can access.”

“Human,” Mira parroted. “As in Edalyn Clawthorne’s little pet? The one you gave your scroll to?” The I’m still angry about that went unsaid. 

“The very one,” Elara quips, opening her eyes. “And Luz isn’t a pet.” She stares at her sister blankly; her voice shifting to chilly and hard. At this moment, you couldn’t tell the twins apart. “You’re on thin ice as it is, Mira. Under no circumstances are you allowed to harm that girl, and if you do, understand that I will do everything in my power to keep her safe.” Because Lilith loves her, and I will not let anyone take from her again.

Mira is silent for a moment, weighing her options before she replies. “So long as she doesn’t endanger you, I won’t harm her.” And it’s the most Elara can hope for, honestly, but it doesn’t settle the unease in the healer.

Suddenly, Mira’s head shoots up, swiveling to look in the direction of the front door, her lips pressing into a thin line. She’s hoisting herself to her feet not longer after, shifting in front of Elara, almost defensive. “Were you expecting anyone else today?” She questions, keeping her attention on the door. 

“Not that I can recall,” Elara answers, reaching a hand up to grasp her sister’s wrist in a warning, because what if it’s one of her patients on the other side? It certainly won’t be the first time they’ve shown up unannounced and in need of her. I won’t be able to protect them if Mira attacks.

“Then-”

Mira’s interrupted by a loud smack of Elara’s front door slamming into the wall as it's forcefully thrown open in whoever’s haste to get in, and Elara clutches her head at the sheer volume of it. The noise that comes out of her throat is half howl, half sob, and all parts wounded. Mira responds to it, shifting further in front of Elara to block her from what she’s perceived as a threat, her magic crackling in the air; poised to strike.

“Elara?!”

Luz. “Mira, no...” Her voice is rough, wet and thick, but Mira isn’t listening to her anymore. And because she is so useless right now, all she can do is sit here and watch her sister go on the offense; without even assessing the situation, Mira's staff materializes, the twin palisman to Elara's baring its fangs, and she lunges. 

NO!

Chapter Text

Luz scrubbed a hand over her face, her features drawn tight in exhaustion.

There was this noise, like a dull, high-pitched ringing nestled in the back of her head; its volume gradually increasing in intensity by the hour. Luz prayed for silence. 

It was certainly manageable for a time; barely noticeable in the beginning. It hummed to life when Luz returned home from school to find Lilith missing. (“There’s a few things we need from The Knee, kid. Lily will be back in a few days.”) The thought that Lilith hadn’t stuck around long enough to see Luz before she left invited a pang of loneliness in the teen, a disquiet ache in her chest. Suddenly, Luz was alone in a room full of people. 

It’s okay. It was brushed aside for a few hours; loneliness was an old companion of Luz’s -if she can spend half her life alone, she can handle a few days. I can be okay. 

But. It didn’t last long. 

The shadows and quiet pressed in on her, and in response, the ringing kicked up a slight notch in the silence of the first night, all while the other occupants of the Owl House were fast asleep. Correction, King and Hooty were sleeping peacefully. Luz hadn’t heard Eda’s familiar steps come up the stairs yet and wondered if her mentor was as worried about Lilith as Luz. Because she was worried. Scared, even. 

Luz didn’t let the thought of Lilith alone on The Knee settle in her mind. Couldn’t. Her troubled mind already welcomed the darkness that twisted her thoughts and fed her insecurities. She was too tired to put up much of a fight against them, to try and convince herself the things her head whispered to her on a nightly basis weren’t true. (“We’re our harshest critics, our own worst enemy. The mind knows our every insecurity, and if we let it, it can easily destroy us in a way no one else ever could.”)

Since Luz started taking the sleep elixirs Elara crafted for her, the teen’s sleep has been a dreamless one, an escape from the terrors that lie in whispers at the back of her mind in the daylight. She didn’t want their comfort tonight; so Luz rolled onto her side, shoving her hand under the pillow to grasp an unmarked jar kept there. She pulled it out of its hiding place, uncorked it, and with it carefully set on her nightstand, she let the air in her room be bathed in Lilith’s scent. 

She closed her eyes and slept uneasily. 

And awoke to the ringing a little louder than it was the night before. Still manageable; not so barely noticeable anymore. 

Her body screamed to just sleep. It was a struggle to roll out of bed the first morning without Lilith in the house. She managed to sit up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand as she scratched the still slumbering King under his chin with the other. On autopilot, she snagged Elara’s scroll from the nightstand, typing a quick message and waiting with a knot in her stomach for the healer to respond. And only when the scroll vibrates in her hand does the tension in Luz’s shoulders ease a fraction. Still safe.

Good morning, sweetie! Did you sleep well? Oh, and I wish you luck on your exam today!

Luz smiled faintly. Elara was such a mom sometimes. Okay, always. And not like an Eda kind of mom. Eda’s that mom who’ll wreak havoc with you; she’d only judge you a little -ask a question or two, and then be on board with whatever it is- but you’d need to prepare yourself for the constant teasing she can unleash upon her loved ones. Luz adored her, even if sometimes her mentor was still a little unsure of her role as Luz’s main caretaker. Luz wondered if she was afraid that Luz would think Eda was attempting to replace her mami. Which she knew she wasn’t. No one could ever replace her mami.

Elara, on the other hand, was the kind of mom you could tell everything to without the fear of judgement; she was attentive to all of Luz’s woes, and when it came to Luz’s health, she was firm and unyielding, a soft scolding that Luz was powerless to ignore. Luz listened to her in a way she doesn’t the Clawthorne sisters. Maybe a lot of it had to do with the fact Luz can’t hide from the healer? She’s combed through the depths of Luz’s soul; there was no longer a secret hidden from her. And instead of terrifying, it’s reassuring. 

It warms Luz to be on the receiving end of Elara’s affections, but it also saddens the teen; she’s witnessed with her own eyes the way Elara interacts with children of all ages, the warmth and longing in her eyes as she talks to them about nothing and everything. Luz has also caught signs of regret and guilt blended in; most wouldn’t even notice it. Did Elara want kids of her own? Does she regret waiting for Lilith to have one? Luz discusses her life on a daily basis with the healer, has been gifted with stories of Elara’s own, but Luz has always been a little afraid to delve too deep into Elara’s life. (“A life for a life. When you become a member of the High Council, the most important thing in your life is branded with a glyph, one meant to snuff out a life if the Emperor so desires it.”)

A brand like that etched into her skin can’t be an easy burden to carry. And alone, at that. Luz wanted it off. Elara deserves all the little future Rime-Clawthorne babies she’s ever wanted. She deserves a forever with Lilith; not a fear of what-if for the rest of her life. It’s like Belos just knows who’s a good person on the Isles and makes them suffer for it. 

The scroll vibrates in her hand again. Are you alright, darling? 

Luz sighed and typed her response out. I’m okay! Just a little nervous! Here’s to hoping Amity’s tutoring pays off! Then she breathed in the last fragments of Lilith’s scent, trying her hardest to imprint the smell into the pores of her lungs, before she discarded the jar, got dressed for school, and headed down the stairs, where the sight of Lilith’s empty chair at the breakfast table struck a painful lurch in her chest. It was wrong.

She left without even a goodbye, and with the slam of the door, the ringing became a little louder. 

Luz thought school -hoped, actually- could take her mind off of everything. 

It doesn’t. 

She doesn’t need her results back to know she failed her exam this morning; she couldn’t recall a single thing she had gone over with Amity, her paper turned in without a single answer on it; just smudged graphite and eraser shavings. She’s currently moping over it with a peanut butter sandwich Gus handed to her after she took her seat at their table in the cafeteria. Real food, she forlornly jokes in her head. 

“You never know,” Gus chimed in an attempt to cheer her up, his own sandwich lifted up close to his mouth. “Maybe Professor Larron will like the ravens you drew on the back so much she’ll give you a passing grade.”

Luz groaned, slamming her forehead down onto the table. Careful hands took a hold of her sandwich and set it down somewhere she couldn’t see, and then fingers were combing gently through her hair. Luz hummed, leaning into the contact. It reminded her of Lilith; the comparison hurt, but she was enjoying the touch too much to stop it. 

The hand stilled; then resumed when Luz whined. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Amity. Luz shifted her head to meet the worried eyes of her friend. “It’s fine,” liar. “I just didn’t sleep very well last night.” And whose fault is that? “Guess I was worrying more over the exam than I thought.”

Amity's smile is soft; Luz’s heart flutters in her chest, because it’s so rare for her friend to let herself be anything other than what’s expected of her, a Blight. “I don’t mind if you ever call,” she assures, her tone as soft as her smile. So much like Elara in that moment. “If you ever want to go over anything, I don’t mind helping you. No matter the time.”

Luz manages a weak smile. “Thanks, Amity.” But you can’t help me with this. 

Luz just wants to get through the day; get through the next few days as quickly as possible. So Lilith can come home. 

//

Eda stared unseeingly at the book in her hands, her thoughts lost somewhere between the words on the pages. She was inclined on the couch, her back pressed against the armrest, with the intentions of enjoying a bit of downtime, but her mind kept wandering back to Luz and the undecipherable emotion in her eyes when Eda informed her Lilith wouldn’t be back for a few days. It didn’t sit right with her; less so when Luz simply disappeared without so much as a backward glance her way. Like Eda didn’t even exist anymore. 

Like no one existed outside of Lilith. 

It was of concern for the older woman; a tension lined her shoulders at the nasty thought of losing Luz to Lilith. The closer her kid grows to her sister, the more Luz wedges a distance between herself and Eda. These days she’d rather spend all of her time following Lilith around the house the second she’s home from school. Asking the elder Clawthorne for help with her homework. Declining every offer to join Eda on a trip to the market if Lilith wasn’t in attendance. Even when her friends are over, Luz keeps Lilith in her sights. And if she isn’t, the kid’s fidgeting in her spot, eyes constantly on the stairs. Almost as if Lilith’s the air she needs to breathe.  

As much as she hated to admit it, it warped her own relationship with her sister. At her worst, she’s seething in rage and jealousy, lashing out at Lilith like she’s the source of her every wrongdoing. It tears her apart, because Lilith just takes it, as if she’s under some notion that she deserves it; looking at her with those damn guilt-ridden eyes, like she wants to speak but can’t.

Please, Lily. She wanted to beg. Please fight back. Where’s my take-no-shit sister? 

Eda’s clingy, as well; not that she’ll ever actually admit that. When Luz is off at school, Eda is the one following her sister around the house; it was so reminiscent of their younger years, she thought. Lilith likes to spend her mornings curled up on the couch with a book she’s found, a steaming cup of floral tea carefully placed on the armrest beside her. Now, Eda’s not the sitting still type; never has been, but for Lilith’s head scratches and gentle mutterings, she’ll willingly be a petrified statue if that’s all it took. Because the same rage and jealousy she held within her over losing Luz to Lilith was on the same coin as losing Lilith to Luz. She’s never had to share her sister like this before, and it scared her to lose Lilith to her own kid. 

An ache like no other pulsed through her; she wondered why it hurt so much if she knew, without a doubt, she’d let it happen. If she knew for certain they could fit their broken pieces together. Without her. 

“Is Lilith back yet?”

Eda’s head lifted, eyes landing on her apprentice. Luz fidgeted with her hoodie from where she stood in the entryway to the living room, her eyes flicking between the front door and her mentor. “Fraid not,” Eda closed her book carefully, noting the pale pallor of Luz’s skin. “You’re looking a little pale, kid. You alright?”

Luz didn’t respond to her. She casted one glance at the door and headed back up the stairs.

It was all Luz said to her for two days. 

//

Breathe in. One. Two. Three.

The sound of her labored breathing -Dios, the ringing was a screeching wail at this point- was loud in her ears in the silence of Lilith’s bedroom; her eyes screwed so tightly shut she could almost pretend Lilith was here. 

She lied there, curled up on the bed with the sheets thrown over her head and forehead pressed into the mattress in the dark room. Her nose buried itself to breathe in as much of the scent infused into the fabric as physically possible; counting down the hours until Lilith returned. 

She’s late. 

Luz’s fists are balled against her face; it took every ounce of will in her not to rake her nails down her scalp to silence the screaming in her head. 

She’s late. She’s late. She’s late.

Luz can’t stop the shivering. There is a sickening feeling in her stomach that something is terribly wrong. The mounting fear was swallowing her whole and she was powerless to stop it. 

Lilith’s never late. 

Luz couldn’t take it anymore. She needed help. She barely stumbled out of the bed, sheet clutched in trembling fingers and draped over her head, before a wounded sound keened in the back of her throat.

//

Her sister was late.

Two days. Her sister said it should only take two days to investigate a piece of information Lilith picked up from the Underground (Eda almost killed her sister herself when she told her, and what the hell was she doing all the way in Knetwell in the first place, but that’s a thought for another time) about a possible portal to the human realm hidden in a temple on The Knee. Lilith was only meant to scope out the area before retrieving her sister if the information proved viable to them. 

It’s the third night now. 

Eda isn’t sure if she’s made the biggest mistake of her life or not. Her sister’s fully capable of taking care of herself, Eda knows. Lilith’s strong in her own right, but she’s heavily crippled compared to what she was. Eda’s not so confident Lilith’s fully tested her limits yet either, but it’s not like they had a choice in the matter; Lilith was better equipped for the job and someone needed to stay behind with Luz. Eda wasn’t about to leave her kid alone. Never again.

Doesn’t stop me from rethinking the whole idea, Eda thought, pacing the length of the living room restlessly, her eyes on the door. I’ll give her till sunrise. And then whether her sister liked it or not, Eda was coming for her. 

“E-Eda?”

She’s so pale. Later, Eda will remember the thought, but as her head snapped in the direction from where the timid sound had drifted from, all Eda can focus on is the breath lodged in the back of her throat at the sight of Luz, her kid, trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

“Eda.” Bloodshot eyes latched onto her, full to the brim with fear and torment, a sheer desperation marring Luz’s soft features. “Where’s Lilith?”

Alarmed, Eda drew near, inwardly flinching as the teen moved back. She tried again, and again Luz retreated; Eda remained where she stood after the second flinch. “Luz?” Panic coursed through her veins, but she kept her voice from trembling, a familiar one whispering in her ear that she needed to remain calm for Luz’s sake. “What’s wrong, kid? Are you sick?”

One word. It was just one word, and it was like that word stung like a slap to the face, and it effortlessly left her kid cold and vulnerable like a cornered animal, tears building behind her eyes, cowering in fear. 

“Stop, no,” Luz whimpers, hands clutching her head, her breath coming in gasps. “No!”

Move.

Move.

The voice in her head wasn’t melodic and soft anymore, but the screeching howl of the cursed form. 

Owlet. Danger.

Move.

She shifted forward; the tiniest shred of hope flared -Luz wasn’t moving any further back, but her eyes tracked Eda’s movements as if she were a predator. Owlet. Danger. Protect. 

“Luz…”

Just a soft whisper, but even that tensed slim shoulders, and Eda paused again, unsure how to proceed as the beast thrashed to wrap itself around its young, while the soft, melodic voice warned her if she pushed too much she risks Luz running from her. 

“Lilith,” Luz whined, and Eda’s heart constricted painfully in her chest at how wounded her kid sounded. “I need Lilith, Eda. Please.”

Tentatively she brought her arm up, hope growing when Luz remained still. She swallowed hard, eyes glued to the slow progress of her hand as she reached for her kid. Physical affection, a friend once said. Is the best kind of sedative. But only when it’s wanted, she recalls. 

She had this irrational thought that if she could just touch her, she could fix this, but the second her fingertips grazed the sheet enveloping her kid’s tiny frame, Luz let out a choked cry as if she’d been burned, wrenching herself out of Eda’s reach. 

“NO!”

Sobs escaping, legs trembling so hard she couldn’t support her weight anymore, Luz sank to the ground, her nails digging into her scalp, and Eda wanted to stop her, but she didn’t know how to without touching her. 

“Kid,” she pleaded, the tremble noticeable in her voice, the cursed form whimpering in tandem as she sunk to the ground next to Luz. “How can I help you? Whatever you want, Luz. Just tell me.” Because she didn’t know what else to do. Did I do this to you? Is this my fault?

“Lilith, Lilith, Lilith.” A constant flow; it spilled past the choked cries. Luz’s eyes were fixated on the floor. Was she deliberately avoiding Eda’s gaze? “I need Lilith. Please, Eda. Give her back! I’ll be better, just give her back!”

Eda reared back, eyes wide. Give her back, as if Eda had sent her away on purpose. As if she was punishing Luz for...for what exactly? For loving her sister over her? For choosing Lilith? No.

How Luz looked right now...the sheer wrongness of it clawed at Eda’s throat, and Eda could not put into words how unsettlingly disparate it was. Luz never looked so frightened, so small, and she fought the urge to cry, because her kid needed someone to be strong for her right now; Eda needed to find Lilith.

But she can’t. If she was confident she knew Lilith’s exact location on The Knee, she’d make haste to her, because no matter how much it hurts, that tearing in her heart, if it’s Lilith Luz needs right now, so be it; Eda will demolish everything in her path to get her sister to Luz. But she doesn’t, and she can’t leave Luz here alone. Not in her current state. Not while she was falling apart in front of Eda’s eyes. 

Owlbert. Owlbert can find Lilith. 

With a set goal in mind, Eda’s muscles loosened; she scrambled to her feet. She was reluctant to leave Luz on the floor, but her kid still wanted nothing to do with her. She forced herself to leave her side, dashing into the kitchen in search of her palisman, who was currently sleeping in the cabinet above the fridge. 

She got him down, woke him from his deep slumber, and sent him off to find Lilith; he knew Lilith’s magical signature best after her, and if he couldn’t detect that for a number of reasons Eda doesn’t want to think about, he’s linked to Lilith’s palisman. Owlbert was the best shot Eda had at quickly and efficiently finding her sister. Bring her home so I can kill her myself. 

Next, Eda stood in front of the orbuculum, fingers pressing down against the glass. She doesn’t know how long it’s going to take Owlbert to find Lilith and bring her home, but Luz needed help now. And if it can’t be Eda, then it has to be the only other person Eda could trust with her kid, who would know what to do in this situation.

Eda hesitates. It’s the middle of the night, her mind helplessly reminds her. She’s bound to be asleep. 

Between Luz’s safety and her friend’s undisturbed sleep, her choice is a simple one, and it’s not long before a familiar set of sleepy eyes are staring back at her from the orbuculum. One look at Eda’s distraught face and those eyes are sharp in an instant, all traces of sleep gone.

“What’s happened, my love?”

Titan. Even over the orbuculum, the effect that voice alone had on Eda was enough to loosen some of the tension sitting tight in her shoulders. “I need you,” she whispered. “I need you to help my kid.”

//

All Eda can do now was wait. 

Eda warily slid down the back of the couch, angling to keep the front door and Luz’s trembling frame over by the staircase within her line of sight, and wrestled down the urge to hover over Luz. Every little cry fractured a vital part of Eda; she wanted to reach out and embrace her kid and protect her from whatever it is that’s hurting her. 

Did I do this to you? Why do you need Lilith? Why not me? It had been painfully evident that Luz was hiding something from Eda; something that obviously concerned her. A problem. Is this it, Luz? She was watching her kid be torn to shreds from the inside, and she couldn’t do a damn thing to help. Luz wouldn’t let her help. 

“Are you okay?” The answer was obvious, yet she could not do a thing to impede the witless words from spilling forth; it was said more to break the silence than anything. Luz was not okay, and Eda wasn’t expecting her to answer her anyway, a constant stream of Lilith’s name the only sound seemingly capable for her to utter. 

Luz’s voice, when she did reply, was suffocated, as if she had broken the water’s surface and breathed in fresh air before she drowned. “No.” And the admission of it shocked them both. Like neither of them expected it. “I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in a long time.”

The beast howled and raged in its cage. Move, it demanded. Protect Owlet. 

It's unsurprising to hear the rumbles so clear; if she's honest, Eda has been listening to the beast closely since the night the curse was split between the sisters -it was always there at the edge of her mind, a moment’s thought away from taking control of the witch. Lilith would have some words for her little sister if she ever found out, and Eda doesn’t want to know if her sister was in the same boat as her; what it could mean for them to have the beasts so close to the surface on a daily basis. But it hasn’t led Eda astray yet, and most times she has little desire to ignore it, but another voice overpowers the beast tonight, warning her she is treading a dangerous line here. One wrong move and Eda could lose Luz for good. And I can’t lose her. 

“How can I help you, kid?” She asks instead, firmly remaining where she’s seated, even if every fiber of her being is itching to be by her kid’s side. 

“You can’t. ” Luz’s voice was uneven, filled with a sense of defeat. It hurt. Made Eda want to -want to what? Want to ruthlessly destroy whatever or whomever was causing her kid such distress. Tell me. “Lilith knows. Lilith understands. You’re not broken like us. You can’t help me, Eda. I need Lilith.”

Broken. Eda once said to someone -a healer, at that- that her sister, her Lily, was broken inside, and that she didn’t know how to fix her, glue her fractured pieces back together. And that healer, the one Elara Rime, answered Eda with the deadest stare she’s ever seen grace the other woman’s face. She’s not broken, she remembers the words, cutting into Eda in the same tone her twin sister was famous for. She doesn’t need to be fixed. What Lilith needs is someone to understand. But, at the time, Eda didn’t understand what she meant, and -well, to Eda- broken was the only word that best described her sister. And who knew Lilith better than her own sister?

But I didn’t really know her, did I? Eda could defend herself, say she was just a child, a child who shouldn’t be expected to look over her shoulder and pick her sister up when she falls. Lilith was the eldest; if anything, she was meant to pick Eda up when she fell...and she always did. Every scraped knee was kissed and bandaged, every night she was tucked in and read a bedtime story, every surprise pounce was met with little resistance (Lilith had an aversion to physical contact, save for a select few; Eda just so happened to be one of them), every heartbreak came with promises of murder and the best candy Lilith’s allowance could buy. 

Lilith picked Eda up when she fell; so who the hell was there to pick Lilith up when she fell?

Eda was a child, yes, but so was Lilith. And who was there for her sister? Who kissed and bandaged her scraped knees? Who tucked her in and read her bedtime stories? Who did she let herself touch freely because she wanted it? Who was there when her heart was broken with the best sweets their money could buy? Because it sure as hell wasn’t her own little sister, her Edalyn. 

It never crossed her mind that her sister was alone this entire time, even with Eda in the same room as her. Eda never understood those little affections was how Lilith showed her love. By not returning those affections, did Lilith think Eda didn’t love her sister? Is that how I lost you? 

Eda had always been the protector, always defending Lilith from bullies, but she never realized she was failing to protect Lilith from the one that mattered. Her. Edalyn Clawthorne. It took a curse and years with little interaction with her sister, for Eda to learn she didn’t know Lilith best at all. Their parents lust for power may have chipped away at Lilith, Lilith’s doubts and fears may have crippled her, but it was Eda who… I did this to you, Lily. I didn’t pick you up when you fell.

She’s not broken. She doesn’t need to be fixed. What Lilith needs is someone to understand. 

Eda opened her mouth, but everything she wanted to say, wanted to ask, wanted to tell, all of them tried to escape at once and she found herself almost choking instead. Luz still wasn’t looking at her. Just as well, because all Luz would have seen was the trembling in her fingers. Suddenly, the air was stifling, suffocating, and a harrowing pressure was building in her chest. No, I don’t understand you like Lilith does, she wanted to say. But I want-

The thought fizzles out, a warmth sweeping up and over Eda in its gentle hold, chasing away the anguish and the self-blame. Hooty’s voice chittered quietly in the space between her heartbeats, her gaze snapping back to the doorway as the door swung slowly open. 

You. Eda scarcely dared to move. 

Eda felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of the woman that stood in the entryway. She was still so achingly beautiful -petite and svelte. Large gold eyes framed with long dark lashes set above high cheekbones. A small button nose led down to a set of glossy pink lips and the gentle point of a chin. Like always, forest green hair tumbled in soft waves, the ends curling softly at her clavicles. The maroon sweater she wore was new, Eda noted, the petite woman practically drowning in it; there’s a nagging feeling that Eda’s seen that exact sweater before, though she can’t quite place from where. It fell well past her thighs, legs exposed and her feet bare. Asa, her palisman, slithered off her staff as she waved it away and settled over her shoulder. 

She was the Blight's perfect image, but instead of the urge to slug her in the face, Eda wanted to kiss whatever deity blessed Primrose Rime with such enchanting children -Eda was of the opinion all of the Rimes were breathtakingly attractive. And now without her magic, Eda can’t buffer the heady effects of Elara’s magic that oozes in waves off of her; it prodded at Eda, seeping into her cracks and filling them with comfort and safety, a soft promise that everything will be alright in the end. It was almost disorienting to be under the brunt of its influence when, at one time, Elara was a mere brush of contact against Eda’s own magic. 

Then those all too bright eyes looked her over slowly; an override of Eda’s magic no longer played as interference to the All-Knowing Sight to keep the spell from diving into the creases of her soul. Eda was now as open as the rest of the Isles to be devoured by eyes always searching for answers to the questions filtering through that brilliant head at all hours of the day. Suddenly, the younger Clawthorne understood why Lilith kept her distance from Elara Rime for all these years. The woman knew everything. 

Eda startled out of her trance, eyes widening as Elara shifted forward; she crossed the threshold, with Hooty closing the door softly at her back, and made her way across the room to stand in front of Eda, stepping in close to her personal space. Her scent flooded Eda’s senses; she blinked back tears -it was so familiar, awakening memories of a time before Eda was on her own with King as her sole companion. 

Elara lowered down to her knees, reaching out to cup gently at her jaw. Eda dared to meet those eyes, which have only ever held warmth and affection when they met hers, but now they also burned with a knowance of Eda that she was never privy to before. The healer didn’t utter a word, but Eda has known Elara practically her whole life and the hand on her jaw was a soft I’m sorry she couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind. And then Elara bent forward slightly, letting her lips lightly trace a trail of kisses over Eda’s cheek. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, they said. But why?

She’d get her answer soon enough when the woman moves away from her, the physical loss of her drawing a whine out of Eda. Is this what everyone else deals with? No one wonder Mira hovers over Elara like a damn shadow. Yeesh, woman. 

Then the healer is at her kid’s side in a few purposeful strides, her voice a hushed murmur Eda can’t quite make out; at first, she’s shocked Luz so willingly clambers into the arms of a stranger when she had so vehemently denied Eda’s touch, even if Elara’s magic is potent enough to send grown men to their knees in reverence. Eda wasn’t even aware Luz could detect the unique magical signatures of witches. But then she observes them - really observes them, and the ease at which they converse, the familiarity in the way Elara cradles Luz in her arms. Like she’s done this before. 

To be fair, she has.  

Elara’s got this soft tenderness for children that isn’t present around anyone else, her magic shifting from comfort to maternal in a swift flip; until Luz came along, Eda never really got it. To her, they were snotty nosed brats who needed constant attention, and it took this one human child for Eda to understand what Elara meant when she says she looks at those little monsters and sees the future of the Isles, because she looks at Luz and sees the future she had casted aside to remain in the present. Elara sees it with every child she encounters, and if there is a time Elara is weak it’s to the whims and needs of a child. 

So, yes, Elara has a special way of handling children, always has; Eda’s witnessed firsthand the unabashed love the healer has for the witchlings under her care. But here, with Luz burying her face in the other woman’s stomach and her hands fisting the sweater, the two whispering in a language all of their own...well, it’s familiar to them; they’ve done this before. That I’m sorry made perfect sense now. 

You were in on it, weren’t you? The knowledge weighed heavily on her. Why am I even surprised?

Eda spectates while the two get lost in their own little world for a length of time, a twisting sensation in her heart. Elara kept her stare on Luz, so lovely and soft and full of caring, and that traitorous warmth started to seep through the cracks in Eda’s heart, and it was all so unfair. And Luz answered her as if she were born to, watery eyes large and pleading, a whisper of urgent words that were soothed by the other woman. There’s a peace in the knowledge her kid can be in the sure hands of someone Eda trusts with her life, but there is also an anguish that she didn’t think Eda was good enough to be that someone. 

I trusted you. Eda slammed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath to calm the rage prickling under her skin. It was a more comfortable emotion; she briefly thought to lean on it and let it settle around her like a familiar cloak. Except, she’s never been able to stay mad at the other woman for long. Just calm down, she breathed, centering her thoughts. With a light exhale she opened her eyes, meeting Elara’s stare head on. I trusted you. For some reason...I still do.

The soft warmth was still in her eyes, albeit with a touch of guilt shrouded in the gold gaze, and it pierced through Eda like a spear. Luz’s broken sobs had toned down to wet hiccups from the moment Elara’s hands had brushed her skin, and now she was completely silent; head resting in the healer’s lap, her back to Eda. She wasn’t trembling anymore, Eda noted, and when the occasional shudder racked her, Elara was there to gently comb through her hair with gentle fingers, offering the teen her silent support. Elara’s palisman rested where Luz’s side dipped in, curled into a ball and thrumming with Elara’s magic while the healer focused those all-knowing eyes on her friend. 

Eda wanted to simmer in the hurt of the other woman’s betrayal, but she can’t say she’s all that surprised by it; it was bound to happen at some point. You are so damn lucky I like you, else the Isles would need to learn how to function without their prodigy healer, let me tell you. 

Eyes cutting and hard, Eda wants to bare her fangs, but the damned cursed form is too interested in purring over the warmth of Elara’s magic. I see whose side you’re on, you traitor. To the beast, her kid is in safe hands. Her Owlet is protected; so she’s settled down and is content to purr and coo at the healer. Traitors. All of you. I live in a house full of traitors. 

“Forgive me, my love,” Elara’s voice, low and weak, barely broke the silence. “This was never how you were meant to learn about this,” she started, suddenly unable to look her in the eye, an involuntary wince briefly twisting her soft features. “No, this is never how I wanted you to know.” 

My love. Ugh, you know that makes me squishy. Eda processed for a moment, then frowned. “I know you,” it was a low rasp; Eda was too emotionally wrung out for the anger coiling low in her gut. “I know you’re not one to hurt me on purpose. It’s one of the things I like about you.” Not like the rest of them; like Lily. She dragged a hand down her face. “Just please tell me what the hell is going on. Tell me why Luz won’t even…” She trailed off, too anguished to hear the words aloud. She won’t even look at me.

Elara’s expression was conflicted, almost unreadable. “Luz has been in my care for a few months now,” she said quietly. “There is much I can’t share with you,” Eda wants to refute her; Elara swiftly shuts her down with her next carefully chosen set of words. “She is my patient before anything else, and I have never divulged what has been said in confidentiality; that will not change, even for you. But what I can tell you is that Luz’s mental stability is fractured. She’s struggling in ways you and I can’t understand.” 

She’s not broken. She doesn’t need to be fixed. What Lilith needs is someone to understand. 

There was a long moment of silence, save for Luz’s occasional whimper and Elara’s soft hushing, before Eda responded with a shaky breath, “She’s like Lily, isn’t she?” You’re not broken like us. You can’t help me, Eda. I need Lilith.

Elara hesitated before nodding. “In a way,” she confirmed. “Very different circumstances; yet the same in a sense.”

Eda’s brows knitted in confusion, head falling back against the couch. “What does that even mean?” She inquired carefully. I want to understand. “When you said Lily needed someone to understand, I dismissed it, because I thought I knew my sister better than you ever could.” She took a breath. “But I now know that was never true; so then I thought it was you who understood her best, but you’re telling me you don’t. So how can you help my kid if you don’t understand it either?” Help me understand that at least.

“I don’t understand because I’ve never gone through their hardships,” it’s not Elara speaking to her, but the healer the Isles worships and envies; honestly, Eda hates her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to treat them. I can help them live a relatively normal life... if they are willing to let me.” 

“Are they,” Eda lifts her head. “Willing to let you?”

Elara sighed, and Eda could make out an unmistakable hint of disappointment in the other woman’s gold eyes. “Lilith has suffered far longer than Luz; unfortunately, she is set in her ways now. She is not making it easy for me to lend my help,” she brushes her fingers over Luz’s cheek in thought. “She caught Luz before she fell down the same downward spiral as her, but there are things Luz still fights me on. Like their dependency on one another, and I warned them it would someday be their downfall.” 

Lilith is dependent on Luz? Eda can’t fathom that; she dismisses it and snidely asks instead, “So Lilith did this to her then?” Because my kid was happy before Lilith got involved. 

“This isn’t of Lilith’s doing,” a layer of steel hardened Elara’s melodic voice, defensive and threatening. “Lilith has done everything she can to help Luz, and I will not let you sit here and blame her when we are all in this mess together.” Ah, there she is. There’s the real Elara. 

“All but me,” Eda almost spat, mindful of the still resting Luz. “Was I to be kept in the dark for the rest of my days? That’s my kid right there, Elara. My kid. And I couldn’t fucking do anything for her.”

Elara breathed in sharply, slightly alarmed at the semi-hostile tone, and then concern flooded her face. “I would never have kept it from you forever. Luz deserved the chance to tell you on her own before I intervened.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second with my sister in the mix of it,” Eda replied, voice fraught with acidity. “Lilith’s got you so wrapped around her finger your own twin’s afraid you’ll sever your connection with her to keep Lilith close to you.”

“That’s not-”

Eda doesn’t want to hear her excuses. No, she doesn’t want to hear the healer’s excuses. It isn’t true, she knows it; Elara has never intentionally hurt her before -isn’t capable of it if she can stop it. Elara doesn’t deserve this. She had only been kind to her, loved her, comforted her. She was there for her when Lilith couldn’t be; just as Eda has been there for her. But the truth of it does little to stop the venom that coats the next set of words that roll off her tongue, a promise to inflict harm within them as the cursed form bares its own fangs at Eda in response. “Are you so desperate to get my sister beneath you that my feelings don’t matter? How many times have I been there for you? And yet you couldn’t do the same for me. Just this once.” 

It was miniscule, the slight flinch from the other woman; so subtle anyone else would’ve missed it, but Eda isn’t anyone else, and the beast whines at the anguish in a pair of gold eyes before it’s gone in a blink. “Stop this at once, Edalyn Clawthorne,” the words are monotonous and cold, a shard of ice running down Eda’s spine at how eerily similar she sounded like her twin in this moment. “I know you’re hurting, but you don’t get to take it out on me like a child whose favorite toy has been stolen.” 

“No,” Eda nearly growled. “I’m your friend,” a brief flicker of pain flashes on her features before she hardens her expression. “At least, I thought I was until you decided it was such a great idea to keep my kid’s health from me. She’s mine, Elara. Mine. I should have been in the know about this!”

“Believe it or not,” Elara softens her tone to a brittle sort of hardness. “She is also Lilith’s child. As I have said, Luz is my patient, Edalyn, and my patients' needs come before what their caretakers want. Until I thought it was absolutely necessary, I was not about to destroy what little stability she has by sneaking around behind her back on a matter she didn’t want you to know about yet. I will not do that. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Do you even listen to yourself? Eda thought with a hiss. I want my friend, but you can’t even dial back that healer far enough for her to talk to me. I hate her. She isn’t you. 

“Don’t,” and Eda’s rage tempers, hot and glowing under the coals but no longer raging, not in the wake of what she knows is the truth. This is how Elara has always operated and it benefited her patients all the better for it; doesn’t mean Eda wants to be rational about it. Damnit, she just wants her friend. “Take your healer philosophy and throw it out the damn window for five minutes and talk to me like a person. ” 

Elara intently held Eda’s gaze for a while, until she finally looked away and stared at the front door; something peculiar flickered in her expression, but Eda can’t get a read on it. “I know you feel betrayed, Eda.” Elara sighs, but it sounds wary. “I know you feel like you’re not good enough for Luz; why else wouldn’t she tell you, right?” She carefully eases Luz off of her lap, arranging the sheet the teen was still clutching to so that her head was cushioned instead of lying directly on the hardwood floor. “But you are so wrong. She loves you like only a daughter can love their mother. You are her everything, my love.”

“I-” Eda opened her mouth; it snapped closed at the emptiness in the healer’s eyes. She’s only seen that look one other time; it’s not a trip down memory lane she wants to take. You fucked up, Clawthorne. Like Lilith level fucked up. 

“And to be quite frank, I’m not your punching bag, Edalyn,” Elara rose slowly, and Eda felt horror settle in a hard knot in her stomach as Elara stared back at her. Numb. “You want to talk? We can talk. But I will not sit here and let you berate me for doing what I have seen is best for one of my patients. Because that is what Luz is before any personal feelings are involved. If she wasn’t, you would have been notified immediately. I advise you get that through your thick head before you ever dare to accuse me again.”

“I-” All the fight drained out of her, her form deflating as her shoulders hunched, and if the swell of sympathy in the other woman’s eyes meant anything, Eda must have looked defeated. 

Stop, I don’t deserve that. It was disheartening how much Elara could still care about someone who’s hurt her, and Eda breathed a sigh of regret at having pushed the matter so hard. No matter how badly I want answers, I had no right to hit her where it hurts most. 

Elara’s gold gaze bore down, solemn and wise. “I love you in my entirety, Edalyn,” she paused, letting her words weigh heavy in the air. “That hasn’t changed, and it won’t. But I can’t always be your friend, and I can’t always put you first. She,” and a hand shoots down to gesture at the slumbering Luz. “Needed me. I had to put her first this time.”

A vice grip squeezed around Eda’s heart, and not even Elara’s soft comfort could mitigate its pain; it stuttered the air in her lungs and sent painful pangs radiating through her body. She screwed her eyes shut tight, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. I’m sorry. I know, but it hurts all the same. I was left in the dark. Alone. 

A warm weight settles in her lap, arms around her neck, hands cupping the back of her head as a forehead gently nudges against her own. ("I'd get used to it if I were you, little Clawthornes, because this is how us Rimes express our love.") “She loves you,” is Elara’s soft whisper, drowning out all other voices conspiring against her. “She loves you so much. She has never wanted to hurt you like this.”

Eda finally opened her eyes, accepting the concern in the gaze so close she can make out the individual shades of golden flecks in the irises. “Then why didn’t she want to tell me?” She shakily exhales out. Her hands flex at her sides, unsure of what else to do. Physical affection is the best kind of sedative, but only when it’s wanted.

Elara’s smile is soft and sympathetic. “Only she can answer that,” she replied. A hand drops down to trace the blackened gem embedded in her chest. Her eyes shift to the door again, that same peculiar look on her face. She faces Eda, brows furrowed. “I can’t feel you. You’re here, but it’s like you’re not. It aches. ”

It’s painful to hear, the lost little sound in Elara’s voice, and Eda hastily wound one hand through the lush waterfall of Elara’s silky green hair, anchoring the other on the small of her back, until they were impossibly close, and tucked the healer’s head under her chin. She has felt the ache; the emptiness in her a constant reminder of what she’s lost. Her magic. She’d give it all up again for Luz, for Lilith, but she still feels the loss of it like a body part that’s been amputated. Permanently. She should’ve known someone who can handle nearly the full extent of her magical signature would be just as affected by its loss as her.

“I’m a little gone,” Eda sighed heavily. “But it’ll take more than the loss of my magic to get rid of me. Fraid you’re stuck with me for life.”

“I don’t mind forever,” Elara whispered, breath tickling the skin of Eda’s neck as she buried herself into the curve of her clavicle. “I might not be able to feel you, but I can see you. And you still shine brighter than anyone else on the Isles. I have missed your light, my love, even when you liked to hide it from me.” 

“You use that flowery nonsense on all your suitors,” Eda murmured into Elara’s hair, basking in the headiness of the healer that has reduced the strong to groveling children. She was everywhere, so close, so electric. “Or just me?”

Elara separates from her, peering at her with a dash of amusement gracing her irises. “Depends,” she pats Eda’s cheek affectionately. “Is it working?”

Eda snorted, swatting the hand away. “Eh, maybe once,” she jokes lightly. “I just know your end game, and it’s around this tall,” Eda indicates the air at the same level as the top of her head. “Raven hair. Pretty but really scary. Walks around like something’s stuck up-” A throat clears in warning. “Very good posture, I mean. Facial expression like a brick wall.” Another snort. “Really, what do you see in my sister?” 

Elara only smiled in response. Everything, was the answer in the curve of her lips. 

The healer shifted back, and a sharp instinct, almost fearful, piercing through the playfulness, seized Eda, and she abruptly felt the loss of the other woman, hands reaching out for her, but she was already on her feet. 

 Eda froze. “Wait, where are you going?”

Instead of heading in the direction of the front door like Eda thought, Elara strides in the direction of the gray-haired witch’s kitchen, disappearing around the bend and leaving a puzzled Eda in her wake. A few seconds later, she pushed off the floor, swept her gaze over Luz -Asa flicks his tongue at Eda, assuring her the teen is in his capable care- and followed the healer. There were some choice words on her tongue about leaving in the middle of a discussion. One, it’s rude. Two, it’s rude. Three- pfft. 

Whatever she was on the verge of voicing halted, the words barreling back down her throat at a speed so fast she nearly choked on them. She stood frozen in the entrance to the kitchen, one eye on Luz and Asa; she trusted the palisman to keep her kid safe in the same manner as Owlbert, don’t get her wrong. And like Owlbert, the very wood he is carved from is ingrained with Elara’s magic; he’s capable of casting a protection barrier around anyone Elara deems important to her if there ever came a time she was too incapacitated to provide cover herself. And not many can get past Elara’s defensive spells. Always thinking ahead. For what, I don’t know. So, yes, she trusts him, but Eda’s just not in the right mindset yet to let her kid out of her sight. 

The other eye is on the sight of Elara Rime, renowned healer and prodigy of the healing arts, rummaging through Eda’s cabinets like King when he wants a snack, the shorter woman standing on the tips of her toes to reach up for something on one of the higher shelves. So tiny. Eda tried to hold back her amusement, but to no avail -to be honest, she wasn’t really trying to begin with. She held a hand to her mouth to hold back her laughter, instead, it came out in suppressed giggles. And then was released into snorts by the deadpan stare Elara shot over her shoulder. 

Elara wore a displeased expression on her face as she lowered back down and faced Eda, whatever she had wanted in her hand. “I know you find humor in my stature, Edalyn Clawthorne,” the edge of her mouth twitched in amusement; of the two Rime twins, Mira was the most sensitive about their height. Or lack thereof, Eda mused. “But could you make yourself useful and tell me where you keep your elixirs for the curse now?”

Leaning against the frame, Eda folded her arms over her chest, letting her gaze linger on the sweater she still swears is familiar to her. Must be because Lily wears similar ones. Wait, didn’t she have one that color? Nah, black is her go-to. Lily is still in her, what did Luz call it? Her goth phase? Whatever that means. 

“Why are all the guests in my home so demanding?” She asked incredulously. “Lily says my house is a trash pile, and I’m letting her live here. For free, mind you. Luz wanted my stuff out of her room, the room I was nice enough to give to her. And King is always complaining I never have enough snacks. Free, may I remind you again, they are living here for free!” She exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at the now seemingly amused healer. “And now here you are, demanding for my elixir.” She huffed, mock-scandalized. “I liked you better when you were bossy about other things, like ‘stop moving my shampoo’ or ‘I know what massages lead to with you, Edalyn Clawthorne, I have to be up for’...whatever it was you needed to be awake before the sun was to rise.” Seriously, what is so important you must rise with the sun? Nothing, that’s what.

The healer, apparently, found what was said to be hilarious, and Elara had to take a deep breath to calm herself, shoulders still shaking from her silent laughter. “And I recall you never did wake me up,” she accused teasingly. “I was meant to be back in Knetwell for the opening of my newest clinic, and I missed it because of you.” 

“Meh, so you missed one little opening. Big deal,” Eda shrugged, a ghost of a grin shaping her lips. “And I don’t recall promising you anything; so, you know, you really only have yourself to blame here.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault then,” Elara drawls, lips turning up into something that is mostly a smirk- but could be mistaken for a smile if you know where to look. Eda does. “I’ll have to remember that the next time you want something from me.”

“You can try,” Eda grins. “I wish you all the look saying no to the one and only Edalyn Clawthorne, most powerful witch on the Isles, the Owl Lady, the Lord Calamity, the harbinger of destruction.” 

“And she who is full of herself.” 

“Okay, ouch. Uncalled for.” 

“Apologies, Eda dear,” definitely a smirk now, and then Elara sobered, head canting as a thought strikes her, and she chases it; Eda can practically read it in her eyes. She shifted what she held in her hand to set it on the counter at her back; Eda’s eyes landed on it, revealing it to be Lilith’s favorite tea blend. Floral. “You can’t feel her, can you?”

Eda blinked and attempted to redirect her gaze to the healer, features twisted in confusion. “Feel who?”

“Lilith,” Elara says a little hesitantly. “Can’t you feel her?”

Lily. Eda straightened, alarm bells beginning to ring in her head. “Why? Is she hurt?” I knew this wasn’t a good idea. Her heterochromatic eyes skirted around the room, assessing what they’d need if Lilith was gravely injured. “What will you need? Can you tell how bad it is? How far out is she?” I never should have let her go alone. 

She was just turning to walk away, to meet Lilith wherever she was and carry her the rest of the way, when a hard grip fastened about her wrist, halting her in her tracks. A shudder curled up her spine at the feel of silky skin, burning and soothing where they held fast to her arm. And the cursed form ate it all up. Traitor! I swear I will fry you up one day. 

“Lilith isn’t physically hurt, my love,” Elara’s voice, soft and reassuring. She only smiled and her fingers trailed down Eda’s hand to intertwine their fingers, knowing what she was doing. Cheater! “But her magic has dipped dangerously low and I fear the curse might take the chance to spread its wings,” a huff escaped her lips. “She must have pushed herself to return from The Knee quicker.” 

She’s fine. Eda took a deep breath, desperately trying to center the roiling of emotions that the thought of an injured Lilith had set off. She’s okay. “Good, good. I,” she started, albeit shakily. “I can’t feel Lilith unless I’m standing pretty close to her,” her voice came out hoarser than she expected; a thumb caressed the back of her hand in comfort. “I thought that without my magic I would be bombarded by it all, that I would feel everything. ” She paused, unsure. “Instead, it’s like there’s an invisible wall and I’m on the other side of it. When you enter Bonesborough, it’s a tickle at the back of my mind; it’s not until you’re in the same room as me that I can feel you, even then I don’t think it’s all of you.”

The healer stayed silent, wide-eyed and still, absorbing every word. Analyzing. Studying. Same old Elara.

A trembling hand rose to comb through white-gray hair, tussling errant flyways into soft ruffled spikes. “I can live with the emptiness that has made itself at home in me,” her eyes slid shut for a brief respite, and when they opened a few seconds later, Elara’s stare was pensive and sad on her. “But I don’t know how much longer I can stand the silence when Lilith isn’t here to combat it.”

“Quiet was never quite your forte, was it?” Elara sighed, head tilting to the side as she broke eye contact, her attention on the door. On Lilith. Always on Lilith. “Everyday we discover something new about the Isles, new spells and potions and elixirs and the very foundations of our magic,” she hummed, the healer swimming up to the surface and pushing Elara down into the depths to drown. “I can understand why I can’t feel you anymore. Your magic is gone; there’s nothing there to feel, but for you, in return, to be disconnected without close proximity to another is...curious. You should, in your words, be bombarded by the magical signatures of other witches, even weaker ones. You have no defense against them; to not be, there must be more to it.”

“A walking anomaly,” soft, unsure, but there is something tensile about her voice. “Sounds about right.” (“Haven’t seen anything like her since the age of the first witches. Our daughter is the most powerful witch on the Isles.”)  

“I’m sorry, my love,” Elara blinks, gold eyes wide, and shakes her head vehemently; all the while gently squeezing the hand interlocked with hers. “I never meant to…”

“S’okay,” It is; she could declare it with honesty these days. Slim shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. “So, yeah, when you figure it out, let me know, ‘kay?” Eda’s hand lifted to wave vaguely in the air, disentangling the other from Elara’s hold. “I’ll take a headache over this any day.”

It’s almost as if her sister knew the perfect moment to stumble in, because when Eda makes it back to the living room, the door swings open again; Lilith’s eyes instinctively seek her out, guilt-ridden orbs locking gazes with her from across the room. Eda looked back at her, face smooth and calm, consciously aware that Lilith’s one cyan eye is now the shame shade of gray as its twin. Right, the elixir. 

It’s easy for Eda to look down her nose at people -Mira taught her that. The other half of Elara had a distinct lack of interest in anyone outside of her twin; at times so did Eda, so why not learn from the best, right? They simper and skitter away, downturn their eyes and slump their shoulders.  But if anything, acknowledging the same motions in her once proud sister stirred not the usual sense of accomplishment, but an ache like no other. It makes her so damn angry with her sister. And herself. 

“Edalyn, I-”

“Don’t,” Eda’s voice gave no room for argument. “We’ll talk later, Lilith.” Oh will we ever, sister dear. 

Her gut’s still twisted in knots, anger sitting there like smoldering coals. How many more secrets will you keep from me? Lilith is familiar to the cursed form; it remembers when her sister was there the first year Eda was learning to get a handle on the curse before she vanished from them. So it’s reluctant to bare its fangs in warning at her; the only thing stopping Eda from lashing out was the fact Luz was stirring and clumsily getting to her feet along with the healer behind her, pressing a soft hand against the middle of her back. Walk away, it said. Walk away before you make a mistake you can’t take back. She listens, and without a word to her sister, she disappears up the stairs. 

Take care of her. A new emptiness blooms in her chest. 

//

Lilith winced, a stone dropping heavy in her stomach.

Mistake, her sister’s eyes had accused her. You made a mistake. Of course it was. That was all she was good for, after all. Her entire life was a series of mistakes, a cascade of chain reactions that led to one wrong choice after another. She watched herself make the wrong decisions again and again, and she was powerless to stop it. And she’s done it again. 

She yearns to follow Eda, to fix the hurt she is continuously causing her sister, but -and surprisingly- another comes before her sister for the first time in Lilith’s life. Luz. 

Lilith moved to meet the teen stumbling towards her. There was blood caking Luz’s fingernails, Lilith noted when she was close enough; noticed the dried flecks of blood in Luz’s hair. Had she raked her fingers so hard against her scalp that her nails broke the skin? Please don’t become me. The thought was disorienting and winding, and she froze, trying to make sense of the situation while also grasping for some sort of control over her breathing and mental function. What happened? Who caused this? Was it me? 

There were tears glistening in Luz’s eyes. She looked so lost, her gaze was searching, as if she were trying to find herself in Lilith’s eyes. “Lilith,” she breathed out chokingly, hand releasing the sheet she was clutching to reach out for the older woman. “I’m sorry -I’m so, so sorry.”

Sorry? Lilith opened her mouth to speak, and she caught the life returning in the soft mahogany eyes as she lifted her own hand and slipped her fingers between Luz’s trembling ones. It’s all the physical comfort she can muster for the teen; not certain she’ll ever be comfortable for anything else. Her mouth works for a few minutes without any actual words emerging. Why are you sorry? 

A soft hiss has a set of gray eyes lowering down to the cobra nestled on Luz's shoulder, dark eyes boring into Lilith. If it was here, that meant...there's a brush of warmth against her; Lilith shot a frantic glance over at the healer leant against the entryway into kitchen, remaining close but far enough away to give Lilith a semblance of privacy. Elara returned her look with a reassuring smile. Of course, Lilith surmised. Of course she was here -if Edalyn trusted anyone with her life it was Elara Rime; it only makes sense she'd also trust Luz in her hands. As Lilith has. And there's no doubt now Edalyn knows of their secret.

“Lilith?”

It was whisper soft; Lilith would have missed it if she weren’t standing so close to the teen. Her head whirls back around, and then those wide, pleading eyes are on her, and all Lilith can do is stare. She was in silent comprehension, trying to piece together the reason Luz is apologizing to her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, Lilith was...clarity broke through the fog of her muddled thoughts.

I’m sorry Eda will be mad at you. It’s all my fault, that look on her face seems to say, and Lilith clenches her hold a little tighter on the hand in hers. If this was the tipping point where Lilith loses her sister for good, so be it. So be it. As much as it would hurt, like being repeatedly drowned in water cold as ice, she would face it. Luz was worth it. She was worth it all. 

“No, Luz,” she swore vehemently. Luz hung onto her every word like it was her lifeline, as if she were fighting an endless war, and Lilith’s voice alone immediately eviscerated all the demons inside her. “This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, okay? I never should have kept this from Edalyn. I never should have left without telling you first. I am to blame for this.” 

“No- I,” one of Luz’s trembling hands, the one not caught in Lilith’s, was tugging on the lapel of Lilith’s winter coat, the thick black material wrinkling in her tight hold as she weakly shoves Lilith. “You can’t take the blame all the time, Lilith. I’m as much part of it as you are.”

Lilith halted the shoving with her freehand; it cautiously rested atop Luz’s. “No.” Lilith was being propelled by a most familiar sensation. An instinct. Born from the moment she laid eyes on Edalyn and swore on her life she’d keep her sister safe. She failed her in the end, but she’d do everything in her power not to fail Luz as well. “It’s okay, Luz. You’re okay. As long I breathe, no one will ever hurt you again. No blame will ever lie on your shoulders. This I can promise you.” I won’t fail you. 

Luz shuddered as she drew in a shaky breath and shoved again, once, twice, each push weaker and weaker than the last, until she ceased. But she didn’t waver in her resolve, mahogany eyes reflecting a warmth that erased all the heavy battle scars Lilith bore and flooded her with serenity, the feeling much like ice on a burn. It was, she realized, not dissimilar to the way Edalyn makes her feel. How Elara can ease the pain with a stunning smile thrown her way.  

There’s more Luz wants to say, an array of disagreements in her eyes, but Lilith’s gaze lands on her sister heading back down the stairs with the elixir in hand. She’s instantly aware of the curse humming beneath her skin. Time’s up. 

"I'm here now," she promises softly. She steps away from Luz, hands slipping free. "You're safe."

//

“Here.”

The golden elixir is thrusted between them, and Luz’s startled enough that she wants to take an instinctive step back but she’s wrapped up in Eda’s arms before she gets the chance to. The hug is tight enough to make her squeak in surprise, and her arms flail a little before she wraps them around Eda in return. The comforting weight on her shoulder slithers over her shoulder, a flick in her ear confirming to her Asa has slid over to rest on Eda's shoulder now, offering his constant comfort and safety to the older witch. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Elara coaxing Lilith by the hand into the kitchen to give them some privacy. There’s more to say to Lilith, but the flicker of pain in Eda’s eyes silenced her concerns for now with Lilith and settled its sights on her mentor. 

“I’m sorry, Eda,” Luz mumbles into the cotton-clad shoulder, and sobs at the kiss that’s pressed to her temple. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be strong for you. I tried so hard-”

“Ssh,” Eda just cradles the back of her head with one hand and exhales slowly. “What are you even saying, kid? You’re the strongest witch I know.” Eda pulls back enough for Luz to see her face, a proud half-grin tugging on her lips, and Luz wrinkles her nose in response because do you not realize who you’re talking to?!

“I- what…” Luz starts, and then stops. Blinks. Stares. “Eda, I’m not even a witch.” It’s a painful admission. “I can’t do magic like you ca-” could. There are silent, unnoticed tears trailing down her cheeks, a fresh wave of guilt blooming in her chest. You can’t do magic because I was too weak to help you.

“You’re your own witch, Luz,” Eda’s voice is soft but proud, and her fingers are carefully catching at least half a dozen droplets beneath her eyes as her lips shape a small, wry grin. “In fact, I am so damn proud to say my kid is the strongest witch on the Isles.” 

“But I’m the reason you lost your magic,” she whispers, and feels her throat close up at the way Eda’s staring at her in absolute wonder. Like Luz wasn’t a burden to care for. “I couldn’t heal you. I couldn’t-”

“Kid,” Eda says, and then takes a breath. “You followed an owl -a very adorable, one that- into an unknown world, aided King and I when you could’ve just found another way home, and then you stayed on the Isles because you wanted to make one of your dreams come true,” she whispers it with complete, aching wonder in her voice. “You found a way to learn magic all on your own, single handedly insured the kids at Hexside can study any track they desire, and made a set of friends that will lay down their lives for you.”

Something breaks in Luz in that moment, but it’s in a good way. It’s so strong that it sends her crumbling to her knees, and when Eda drops down with her, Luz clutches desperately onto her mentor’s sweater. Her heart was fluttering against her chest, like a bird in a cage, and it washed away all the terrorizing voices. 

Eda continued on, “You went up against Belos. Chipped a piece of his mask all by yourself. You went up against him with your newfound magic and kicked his Titan loving ass.” She exhales through her nose, nostrils flaring, letting the point settle. “You’re not weak, Luz. If all of that doesn't make you the strongest witch I know, then what the hell does it mean to be powerful?" She smirks. "Besides, you're my kid, and no kid of mine will ever be weak. Nothing will ever change that for me, you got it?” 

You’re not weak. If something broke in Luz before, it absolutely shatters now. She just cries ...completely without sound. Great, heaving, silent sobs with her fingers curled in Eda’s sweater and her eyes tightly shut. And Eda’s wrapping an arm around the teen and pulling her forward until she’s resting her head against the front of her mentor’s shoulder; she’s rocking and shushing and comforting and just trying to be there. And that quickly growing familiar weight has settled back on her shoulder, a careful set of flicks in her ear a comfort she doesn't think she could live without now. 

“I love you, Luz,” she is holding Luz so tightly and so gently all at once, and Luz cries a little harder when Eda presses her face into Luz’s hair, because Eda sounded so maternal that it’s actually kind of breaking her heart. “I love you so much. Don’t think I could go another day without you in my life.”

Eda loved her. After all that Luz has put her through, what she has cost her, Eda still loved her. For the first time, she let it sink in. She let it envelope her with an all too familiar comfort and the relief of the feeling had tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She loves me. She still loves me. 

I love you too. The words were a jumble in her mind, and she was struggling to choose what to say. Please don’t ever make me leave. She couldn’t voice them past the clog in her throat, but Eda didn’t need them; she clutched Luz tighter to her. I love you. I love you.

Luz eased back, hands still clutching her mentor's sweater. "I've been keeping something from you," and she wilts a little. Like that isn't obvious, Noceda.

A soft touch under her chin has her eyes lifting, the anguish slowly giving way to glimmers of hope, rays of warmth breaking free in Luz's chest as Eda's soft, soft gaze meets hers. "I'm here, kid," she promises in the same tone as Lilith from moments ago. "Help me understand you; I want to understand you."

Luz wants her to understand her, too. This give, this small, barely there admission, it was a step towards something. Something that could be real. 

"Okay."

//

The elixir leaves an odd taste on Lilith’s tongue. She rolls the emptied bottle on the table’s surface with her fingers, eyes on the other woman in the kitchen with her from her seated position. The curse is still too close to the surface, the wretched creature rumbling in her head. It -because this isn’t Lilith’s doing- tracked Elara like a predator as she sauntered around Edalyn’s space as if it was her own, motions sure as she opens drawers and cabinets. It’s not long before a kettle is set on the stove and a flame sparks to life with a flick of the healer’s wrist. 

“Well,” Elara hummed into the silence, facing Lilith and back leant against the counter. “It’s been quite the eventful evening, hasn’t it?”

Eyes narrowed, Lilith gives her a long, blank look. “Very insightful, dear.” 

Elara waves her off. “Forgive me if I’m not feeling particularly articulate, love,” she flashes a small smile; it’s soft and tired. “It has already been a day before I was awakened to this whole…” Her hand vaguely gestures in the air. “Problematic situation.”

Problematic situation. The nicest way of saying one of Lilith’s mistakes has finally caught up with her. I should have just told Edalyn from the start. “I’m sorry,” Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes tight. “I never should have gotten you involved in this.” 

“I don’t mind,” Elara assures. “I’ll always be here for you. And now for Luz. Don’t let this shortcoming affect what you’ve done for her. You did the right thing bringing her to me.” 

“Did I make the right choice?” Lilith set her elbows on her thighs and held her head in her hands, fingers angled sharply into her scalp. Her shoulders hiked for a moment before she straightened. “I won’t regret bringing Luz to you; she has flourished since she’s been in your care, I will not deny that. But,” frustration was around the edges of the word, in the tightness of her tired features as her hands slid to drape the back of her neck, head lowered, chin near her chest. “I knew what she meant to Edalyn. Everything. She is everything to my sister, her child; yet here I was, once again, keeping something from her that affected her.” I haven’t changed. 

Now it’s Elara’s turn to draw a blank look, watching her with a quiet sort of stillness as those eyes exposed secrets Lilith preferred to be kept locked away. “And what else have you kept from Eda that has affected her?” Her voice is low and quiet, treading carefully. Knowing. 

Lilith couldn’t respond to that. Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. But she won’t; shuts the thought down immediately. Elara might belong with Edalyn, but Lilith doesn’t want to risk losing what she does have with her. 

In response, Elara pursed her lips into a thin line, a brief flare of anguish in her eyes. Lilith wants to avert her gaze, though she knows it’s pointless in the end; she can’t ever hope to escape those eyes. And knowing Lilith will not answer now, she changes tactics, “Listen, Lily dear, this is a good thing for Luz.” She canted her head, a sigh in her words. “I don’t like how it’s come to be, but not talking about it to Eda has only made matters worse for her. Least now the air can be cleared and they can breathe easier together.”

“I-” Lilith stilled. Can they? What if the sting of betrayal damages what they have? 

“Lilith,” Elara said slowly; it snapped Lilith out of her thoughts momentarily. “This isn’t your fault. Do not blame yourself.”

No. Lilith shut her eyes, head bent. “Yes, it is,” she gritted out in a defeated sigh. “I haven’t changed in the slightest, have I? You know what I did, don’t you?” That’s as close as she’ll get to admitting the curse. She chuckled humorlessly; she didn’t need to look at the healer to know a quiet despair is in her eyes. “Edalyn always gets hurt because of me. I never should have come back into her life. I should’ve stayed away.”

“Oh, love. No-”

“Yes! ” Lilith bit out, wincing at the implications of her own words. “I hurt her. I can’t not hurt-”

She trails to a spluttering stop, feeling a pair of warm, gentle hands coaxing her to lift her head; Elara’s eyes are affixed on her, a soft assuring smile on her lips that made Lilith’s heart stutter in her chest. It appeared the healer had soundlessly crossed the room and was now kneeling beside her. "Don't you dare ever think Edalyn is better off without you. She missed you, Lilith. It was like being crushed by an ocean made of everything that was missing from her." She replied softly. "You may not be twins, but the connection you two share is as close to one that I've ever seen with a pair of sisters; she'll take a life of pain if it means you'll stay by her side. Her equal. Her family. Her reason for living." 

"Don't say that," Lilith heard the fragility in her voice -was that a whimper? I'm not Edalyn's equal. "I can't be her reason for living; all I can offer her is a life of pain if I stay, and I can't keep doing that to her." I don't even come close it. 

"Too bad, love," Elara made an irritated noise, a smile that was equal measures soft and wry. "We all hurt the ones we love; it can't be helped, but it's what we do to make amends that matters. Mistakes will be made; forgiveness will be given. That is our nature, and we must accept it as a part of us."

Lilith bit back a sob. “I can’t ever be forgiven for what I’ve done.” I cursed my sister. Unforgivable. A monster. 

“Says who, you or Eda?” Elara replied carefully, still cupping her face with one hand, thumb wiping away at the single tear that fell. “Don’t lie this blame squarely on your own shoulders, love. Luz and I are just as equally guilty in keeping this a secret from Eda.” Her soft smile thinned into a line. “I told you so never felt so dissatisfying in my life.”

Lilith briefly smiled despite herself, unconsciously leaning into the contact; she didn’t want to fight it tonight. “Don’t act like you don’t like being right,” she murmured. “You warned us something like this would happen, and I still thought leaving it up to Luz was the right thing.” 

“It was a thin line we were all teetering on,” Elara ventured softly. “It always is.” 

“I still should ha- what are you doing?”

When Elara looked up at her, their faces were only inches away, because the healer was sliding one leg over Lilith’s. “It looks I'm going to be a minute here, so I’m just getting comfortable.” She straddled the darker haired witch’s lap like she belonged there, and without a conscious thought Lilith’s hands grasped her hips. Elara places her arms on her shoulders and links her hands behind Lilith’s head, bumping their foreheads together gently as she makes a little sound in the back of her throat. “Much, much better. Now, where were we?”

The cursed form purred at the contact with the healer, while Lilith short-circuited with the brunt of the warmth from the other woman; her magic thick and heady in the air to Lilith’s heightened senses. She caught whiffs of Edalyn’s scent on Elara; the curse reacted in a way that Lilith wasn’t particularly keen on, but she’s distracted from it by the melodic voice caressing her ears. 

“I want you to listen very carefully to me, Lilith Clawthorne,” Elara hums, her breath ghosting over Lilith’s face. “This isn’t your fault, understand me? Secrets are never meant to stay secrets forever, and that little girl in there made her choices; she must now face the consequences of those choices, just as we all do.”

Lilith stilled, opened her mouth, but then settled on a sigh and leaned further back in the seat to create some distance between them. “You’re right. I know you’re right,” Lilith muttered. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting to…”

“Take on Eda’s wrath yourself because you love her,” of course Elara humored her with a small twitch of her mouth, though she kept her expression fairly neutral. “Because you have this complex where you need to take the pain and the blame and the guilt from your loved ones and shoulder the burden yourself. Because as long as they’re safe and happy, you’ll take on their pain without uttering a sound. Because you don’t think you deserve happiness.” She paused. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Lilith remarked sullenly. “Why can’t you be wrong for once in your life?” Do I deserve happiness? I can’t possibly.

Elara put her hands up in surrender. “It’s a gift,” she chirped, and then resettled her arms in their previous position. “And I just know you, Lilith. It’s par for the course when you love someone.”

Love. Gold eyes steady; they’re gentle, and soft, and warm. And hearing that word not as term of endearment fall off of her tongue is a slip of fear down Lilith’s spine, like being punched and knocked flat; her tongue wraps around the word in all the ways the dark crevices in Lilith’s heart ache to respond to. It’s false, the feeling; not Elara’s love -the healer has genuine love for all she holds dear to her. But this cloying ache isn’t real, and Lilith has to consciously remind herself of it. Do not become prey to its lulling effects.  

Lilith hadn’t noticed when her shoulders had squared and her back had tightened. She looks away from Elara, jaw tense, before she exhales. The turn the discussion could delve into wasn’t one she was all that inclined to hear, and in a borderline desperate attempt to move the conversation elsewhere, she muttered the first thing she could think of, “You do realize I’m not Edalyn, correct?” She indicates what she meant by gently squeezing the other woman’s hips. She flicks her gaze back, a brow quirking. “Or a chair, at that.”

The healer’s eyes crinkle at the edges. “Do people generally get the two of you mixed up?” 

Lilith blinks, dumbfounded. “Well, no-”

“Then why would I?” With that, Elara reaches up and brushes a stray lock from her forehead. The action, if Lilith thought about it, is so expected and so like Elara, but Lilith doesn’t know how to react to it all the same. Doesn’t know why that brief touch feels like a caress or why she can feel her heart skip a beat. It's just a touch. It shouldn't have the power to stir emotions in her. 

“I -uh,” Lilith Clawthorne does not stumble over her words (she does, but she’d die before she’d ever admit it aloud). “Tonight’s a night of spilled secrets, apparently,” she mumbles, nearly choking to get the words out. “Have anything to offer, dear?” 

“I could, but ...hm.” A sly smile shaped Elara’s mouth. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, love.”

Lilith snorted, unimpressed. “Come now, I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Again, Elara appeared eerily neutral. “Oh? What makes you so sure I have a secret to share anyway?”

“Everyone has secrets, Elara,” Lilith confessed quietly. “You’d always been practically an open-book when we were growing up, and though I want to say that hasn’t changed, it has. And I can’t figure out what that is.”

Elara sat very still as she deliberated, her eyes never averting from the heterochromatic pair watching the miniscule shifts in her expression. “You know I don’t like secrets. Never have; never will,” she shook her head and blew out an uneven breath before letting her hand drift through Lilith’s hair. “But I’ve learned in my profession they’re sometimes necessary to protect my patients, and if it has to come down to doing something I hate, I will do it in a heartbeat to keep them safe. ” 

Against her better judgement, Lilith drew the healer closer against her, unable to deny the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins by the sheer warmth emitting from the smaller woman. “What do you mean?” Her hands skimmed up the healer’s back, the cursed form’s rumbles a touch louder in her head at the mere thought of its mate -not your mate, you wretched beast. She’s Edalyn’s- was in danger in any shape or form. “Are you being threatened? Has something happened before? Why didn’t you say anything? ”

When one of Lilith’s hands reached the base of her neck, Elara inhaled sharply and caught her by the wrist. Lilith doesn’t fight it when Elara guides her wrist back down to curl around the healer’s waist. “Hush now, love,” she whispers softly, closing her hand around Lilith’s fingers. “You have nothing to worry about. I can promise you that right now I’m fine.” 

Lilith felt her eyebrows knitting together, lips pressing in a thin line. She watched her, waiting. “Are you certain?”

“Mm,” the healer’s reply was noncommittal, the fingers of the hand not around Lilith’s flitting over the skin of Lilith’s neck. She let loose a smirk, one that sent shivers down Lilith’s spine. She leant closer. “You wanted a secret, okay, would you like to know what your whole knight in shining armor act does to me?” 

“What?!” Lilith blurted, the sound shrill to her ears. She abruptly leaned further away from the healer, the chair dangerously teetering back slightly and nearly bucking the smaller woman off of her. She only managed to keep Elara in her lap by tightening her hold on her, her nails digging into her skin through her sweater. She’s vaguely aware of the pained hiss in her ear before a chuckle caresses the sensitive skin. “Knight in shining armor? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“My, my, my,” Elara snorted, covering her mouth with one hand in an unladylike attempt at elegance. “What’s got you so defensive, love? Does the thought of being my knight bother you that much?”

When Lilith had regained her bearings, she answered. “No, that’s not- I mean, it’s- where did you even learn that? ” She pinched the bridge of her nose, answering her own question. “It was Luz, wasn’t it?”

Elara eased her hand away. “Oh yes,” she purred, and the wretched beast rumbled its own purr in response. “She was so precious when she told me about how you remind her of a knight. It’s quite cute watching her gush over you.” 

Lilith scoffed. “I hate you.” It was weak; hard to focus on anything besides how embarrassingly mortified she was. “You’re an insufferable brat.” Just like Edalyn. Trouble, the both of you. 

“Shame,” the healer whispered, hands on both sides of Lilith’s jaw, thumbs stroking her face. Elara’s eyes searched hers for a moment before a sudden, addictive warmth stole through Lilith’s body, the cursed form screaming at her to claim what should be hers. It’s a new sensation, one Lilith doesn’t like, and she has to clench her jaw at the whine that threatens to roll off her tongue as Elara presses their foreheads together. “Because I love you,” her nose nudged Lilith’s. “So, so much.”

The beast thrashes and howls. Claim. Now. It’s almost by instinct the way her body sought out the warmth of the smaller woman’s body, her hands drawing her in impossibly closer against her. Neither of them expected the feral growl that erupted from the back of Lilith’s throat, and Elara’s brows hiked upwards, eyes wide and dark with an emotion Lilith can’t name at the moment. All Lilith knew was she had to sink her teeth into her. The beast roared inside her. Claim. Claim. Claim. 

Mine. 

An intense wave of shame floods Lilith, because Elara belonged with Edalyn. Not her; never her. The beast screams in anguish. “No.” And the rejection startled them both. Heart constricting, Lilith abruptly stood, mindful of Elara as she eased her into the chair Lilith was previously occupying, creating a distance between her and the healer. What in the Titan’s name had gotten into me? The cursed form whined at the loss of Elara’s heat; Lilith used it to center herself. That was unacceptable. She isn’t an object to claim. 

She needed to get away from her. 

The kettle screeching was a good excuse as any, and Lilith walked forward to the stove slowly, her boots loud in the otherwise silence encroaching in around them. She doesn’t stumble, doesn’t look back. She’s barely holding herself together, shoulders lifting and falling as she breathes deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. She’s removed the kettle off the heat by the time that addictive warmth floods her veins again, catching the healer out of her peripheral. 

For the first time since she’s known the other woman, Elara is hesitant to touch her; it’s for the best, as Lilith’s cursed form can’t be trusted around the healer. Elara’s hand is held out as if to reach for Lilith; she doesn’t say anything for a while. She just bites her lip and studies her own hand, turning it over a few times and finally clenching it before letting it drop to her side. 

“Lilith,” discomfort colored Elara’s voice; Lilith felt a twinge of guilt that she was the cause of it. “Did I hurt you? I can’t…”

What?! Lilith’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide. Disbelieving. “What?” She echoed her thoughts. “ No, of course not.” You couldn’t possibly hurt me. 

“Oh,” is the reply, but there’s an uncomfortable tightness in Elara’s voice even if she’s smiling. “I’m well aware this isn’t something you like to talk about, and you might take full advantage of it anyways.” Then she’s opening the cabinet above her and pulling out two mugs, and she doesn’t utter another word until after she’s poured the hot water over the tea leaves she sets in the mugs to be steeped. She ends up lingering there for several heartbeats, with her gaze fixed on it and her fingers tapping against the handle of her own mug. Finally she sighs. “I’m going to be honest with you; I’m not used to this, and I don’t know whether I’m pleased about it or slightly miffed.” 

“Not used to what?” Lilith asks helplessly. It’s almost comical to her, the role reversal. Lilith is the one most commonly keeping her eyes averted from the other woman, while Elara prods at her to open up until she’s nestled inside Lilith’s heart. Now Elara is looking everywhere but at her, like there’s something there she can’t handle the sight of. Is it the cursed form? Did she see what it wants?

“I can’t,” Elara starts and then stops with a sigh as her head drops back. She stares up at the ceiling, fingers still tapping against the handle of the mug; she keeps drawing her lower lip between her teeth and then releasing it again as she seems to gather her thoughts. “I can’t read you, Lilith. The curse is drowning you out right now.” She straightens, and then there’s a pained smile on her lips when their eyes meet. “I’m asking you to tell me what’s going on within you, because I need to know if I’ve done something wrong.”

Lilith blinks at her; wide-eyed and looking startled. “You can’t read me.” She echoed slowly, the syllables drawn out as if hearing them in her own voice would make any more sense to her. Because when had Elara ever been able to not dig into Lilith’s soul with a mere glance? Never. “As in you can’t see me at all?"

“That’s what I said, yes,” Elara chuckles wanly.

“Oh.”

That earns her a rather incredulous look, and it takes a few seconds before the healer speaks again. “Yes, Lily dear, oh. ” 

“And because you can’t,” Lilith says slowly. “You want me to tell you.”

“Yes,” she scowls jokingly, and then almost smiles when Lilith looks at her with the same incredulous expression. “Obviously, you don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable, love,” she intones, and ceases her tapping to jab a finger in Lilith’s direction. “I can wait until the curse returns to its slumber.” 

Lilith knows Elara is at least halfway joking. She can hear it in her voice, but…

She also sounds lost. Elara was lost. 

It's the final nail in the coffin. “Alright.” Lilith curls her fingers around her mug and lifts it. She doesn’t drink from it; just holds it in front of her chest as if it’s some kind of shield, and leans her hip against the counter and stares at Elara. “To clarify, it’s nothing you’ve done,” she admits, albeit reluctantly. Uncomfortable. “It’s just the curse wants…” and then she trails off, teeth sinking into the inside of her cheek. It wants to drag you off into its nest and claim you like the wretched creature it is. But she can’t say that. Instead she settles for, “It wants to mark you.” Safe and simple. She takes a careful sip of her tea...

Elara just stares. “Oh.” She blinks. “And you don’t?”

...and has to whirl her head away from the other woman as she spits it out, lest she wanted to douse the other woman in the liquid. Immediately, Elara’s lips shape into an almost devilish smile, and those very gold eyes are glinting. “Something I said?”

And Lilith squeaks, then coughs, then squeaks again, but at least the second time around she does manage to get a few words in there, too. "No!” She all but whimpers, practically choking out the words as she slams her mug down on the counter. “You’re not some object to be claimed, Elara. No one has the right to just mark you like that.” 

Then she’s under the full weight of Elara’s stare for long, silent, searching moments. All wide with a look in them that’s both breathless and open and aching and completely overflowing with gratitude and love, and Lilith somehow manages not to falter under it. at least, not immediately. 

There's a few more seconds of that steady, soft gaze -enough of them that Lilith feels her face start to heat up- but Elara eventually closes her eyes, that soft look vanishing behind her eyelids. "You make it so hard, love." Elara riddles. 

 Lilith’s gut twisted, but her ears perked. Elara’s tone was soft and distant. She looked at the other woman carefully, searching for any sign as to what the healer could mean. I make what hard? But she won’t ask. 

"It's different with your sister," it's not quite an accusation, and it's not truly aimed at Lilith either. And then gold eyes flutter open, a burning curiosity within them. "With Eda, I can still read her and see the cursed form," she steeples her hands together and points her two index fingers at Lilith. "As if they're one in the same. In harmony, if you would."

Lilith doesn't like the sound of that. "Perhaps it's because Edalyn has dealt with the curse longer than I." 

"Perhaps," Elara echoed. "You, on the other hand, are at war with the cursed form; with your magic still recovering, it's given it a chance to somewhat overpower you." She releases her hands and curls her fingers into claws, bolstered enough to let a hint of a tease shade her tone. "There's a lot of growling and other sounds I'm not particularly fluent in."  

"Believe me," Lilith replied flatly. "It's for the best you're not." 

"Why, my dear Lilith," Elara's eyes drilled into Lilith, challenging. "Is it for the best? Is there more to it than just an instinct to mark?"

Yes. "No." She said instead. Mate. "There isn't-"

“-and then Gus dared me to find the center of gravity of-oh, ” whatever Lilith might have said was silenced as those soft gold eyes flickered away from her and gravitated to Luz, who came into their line of sight with Edalyn’s arm thrown over her shoulders -Elara's palisman is atop her sister's head, and Lilith is purposely averting her eyes from the miscreant. Luz's mahogany eyes bounced between them. “Um, are we interrupting something?”

Elara smiles. Gently. Sadly. Both. “Of course not, sweetie. How are you feeling now?”

“Oh,” Luz mumbles. She sounds very much like a shy child; Lilith melts at the sound of it, as do the other two women. The arm that Edalyn’s slung over Luz’s shoulders tightens its hold briefly, a kiss landing on her temple that Luz leans into. “Much better, thank you. I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here.” She scrunches her shoulders up to her ears. “You’re probably pretty tired.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” the healer chuckles, and gives her a fond look. “You’re my patient and the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen; it’s never any trouble if you need me.”

Luz’s features scrunched cutely. “Still-”

“Save your breath, kid,” Edalyn piped up, voice soft. “Trust me on this one; she’s in healer mode, which means she’s going to ignore your apologies and insist she’s fine.” 

“That,” Elara tells her with a huff. “Is not nice, Edalyn.”

“Consider it payback for earlier, shortstack.”

Lilith blinked, unsure if she heard correctly. “Tell me you don’t seriously still call her that,” her fingers twitched at her side at the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “What are you, ten?”

“Hey.” Edalyn mock-glares at her as she grins unrepentantly. “You’re just upset I thought of it first.” 

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not,” she deadpans. “It’s childish, Edalyn.”

“The only childish one around here is you, sister dear,” there’s a bite to her words, a subtle reminder she’s still upset with her sister. 

“Eda!” Luz reprimands her, and Edalyn only mildly shoots her an apologetic glance in response. 

Right. Like a skittish bird, Lilith felt she would take flight at the slightest provocation; she forced herself to calm. There were still so many questions, so many things to clear up, but at least Edalyn wasn’t looking at her like she wanted to throw her sister out on the curve. It soothed the stings of her burn, cooling and healing. For tonight, it would need to be enough. 

So caught up in her thoughts, Lilith failed to notice the smaller woman sidling up closer to her side, and then blinked in surprise when her hand was caught. Her gaze peers down at Elara, and while she does release her grasp on Lilith’s hand, she also catches her fingers on her own for as long as possible; skin sliding gently over skin until the very tips of their fingers have to part. And so caught up in Elara, she fails to notice another set of eyes assessing them, a realization dawning in their gaze. 

“So,” Edalyn’s voice crashes into Lilith’s ears, and she jumps slightly. A soft chuckle from the healer -so low only Lilith can hear it- ignites a light flush on her cheeks. “Sleeping arrangements? Mama is whooped and ready for some shut-eye.”

“Sleeping arrangements?” Lilith echoed, brows furrowed. “Why do we need sleeping arrangements?”

“Shortstack is staying the night.” Edalyn said it like it was the most obvious thing on the Isles. 

Lilith’s ‘She is?’ is uttered at the exact same moment as Elara’s ‘I am?’, and both women have identical expressions of confusion on their faces that immediately shift to identical scowls because Edalyn and Luz are laughing so hard their entire bodies are shaking from it. 

Elara merely rolls her eyes in good nature, and as slighted as she feels, Lilith decides this is infinitely better than the anger she can picture clearly in her sister’s eyes. Even if it is happening at her expense. 

“The tiny healer can bunk with me,” Edalyn manages to get out as she winds down slowly, and wipes at her eyes with another chuckle. “My nest is big enough for two to sleep comfortably anyway.” 

Lilith felt her eye twitch. “I hardly doubt Elara wants to sleep in a nest, Edalyn.”

“Meh,” Edalyn shrugged, waving her off, but there is a sharpness in her eyes as she watches her. “Won’t be the first time she’s crashed in my nest.” 

The beast wasn’t too pleased with that answer, hissing in Lilith’s head to slaughter the competition. Mine, it growled lowly. Mate. Mine. She wants to silence it, but winds up just glowering at her sister instead. She won’t rebuke Edalyn’s suggestion. If Elara has slept in her nest before and is fine with it now, what right does Lilith have to be against it? None. 

“Oh!” Like the ball of pure energy she is, Luz exclaimed with a loud squeal, her smile bright and cheerful compared to what it had been from before. One thing Lilith adored about her was her ability to bounce back. Nothing like me. “She can share with me! We can have our very own girls’ night! We can paint each other’s nails and talk about boys. Well, girls as well, of course.” 

“Not usually one to dissuade you, kid,” Eda counters, and then she yawns. “But you need actual sleep tonight. Gonna have to say no to any slumber party shenanigans.”

Luz pouted. “But Eda…”

“Nope,” Eda says, letting the syllable pop. “Your cute, little eyes won’t work on me this time. If shortstack doesn’t mind bunking with you, I’m fine with it. But I hear one peep out of you and she’s moving in with me, got it?”

And then Luz turns those large, pleading eyes on Elara, and if the smaller woman wasn’t soft for children already, she would’ve been for Luz’s pout. “Elara?”

“Fine by me,” Elara hums, mirth shimmering in her eyes by Luz's overexaggerated facial expression. “I actually wanted a chance to look you over anyway. You’ve been under quite a bit of stress these last few days.” 

“Great, it’s been decided then,” Edalyn removes her arm from Luz’s shoulders and stretches it over her head, while Luz scampers out of the kitchen, muttering something about making her room more presentable for the healer. “You fine with that, Lily?” And then those sharp eyes are on Lilith, a cat-like grin shaping her sister’s lips. “Unless you wanted Elara to room with you tonight, hm? Get all cozy in your little bed with her?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Edalyn.” Lilith hissed, feeling her face beginning to warm. 

“Why? Because I might be right?”

“Okay you two,” Elara half-tittered. “That’s enough.” She reached out and caught Lilith’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, drawing her down so she could press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Thank you for talking to me,” she breathed against her skin, and then spoke louder as she pulled away. “So, Edalyn, do you have anything I can wear?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” And Edalyn’s smirk spelt trouble. 

//

Luz was surrounded by blissful silence and felt deeply relaxed and strangely weightless.

A heady combination of Lilith’s return home and Elara’s magic infusing the entirety of the Owl House in its warmth and comfort has, for the time being, devoid Luz of the ghosts lurking in the shadows of her mind. But they’ll be back; Luz has accepted they won’t ever stay away for long, but she has adapted to live around them, even if sometimes it grows to be too much for her. She’s not the same Luz who came to the Isles; she might not ever be, but this is as close to her she has ever been, and it’s such a comfort to know that no matter how tiny the fragments, someone will be there to help her pick up the pieces. I’m not alone.

Why didn’t I just let Eda in? Lying flat on her back and staring at the ceiling, or more accurately, through it, Luz sighed deeply, listening to the soft whispers of the three women on the other side of her cracked door. Eda’s cracking jokes at her sister’s expense; Luz can hear it in her tone, even if she can’t exactly make out the words, while Lilith sounds like she’s seconds away from strangling her sister, a snarl in her voice. And Elara seems to be playing peacekeeper, but she’s also subtly provoking Eda on, if her sly tone was anything to go by, because Elara loves when Lilith’s all flustered. “It’s cute,” she always tells her; Luz can’t disagree. 

Because you were afraid. Luz let the thought filter through her mind, breathing in the scent of the night’s fresh air as it filled the room through the partially open window. Afraid to be weak in front of her. Illumination came from the lone sphere of Luz’s light spell, floating aimlessly in the room with the night breeze; it bathed the bed, but left the rest of the room in shadows. Afraid you would lose her, because Eda means the world to you; without her, you would be left adrift. 

“So, girls’ night. How does it work?”

Luz blinked, surprised at the melodic voice; mahogany eyes flicked to where the healer stood, the door clicking closed behind her. “You’ve never had a girls’ night?” 

“Years ago,” Elara shrugged, nonchalant. “I can’t recall the last time I’ve had a sleepover.”

Luz rolled onto her side, lifting her head to rest her cheek on the palm of her hand. She hadn’t bothered to pull her sheets up earlier, so they tickled the exposed skin of her ankles. Her typical sleepwear of a tanktop and shorts clung to her balmy skin. “That’s blasphemy,” her voice lacked its usual cheer; she was too tired, and Elara wasn’t someone she had to pretend to be happy at all hours of the day around. “My friends and I have one every Saturday. Unless someone’s sick, of course; then we postpone until they’re better, and then we celebrate by eating their favorite snacks and watching their favorite movies.”

Elara tilted her head, eyes bright in the darkness of the room, and Luz gave her a once-over, failing to keep the snicker she feels tickling the back of her throat at bay at the black, silk nightgown Luz’s certain is Eda’s way of getting a rise out of Lilith. Because Elara’s never donned black apparel before, but Lilith does. Because it’s sole purpose was to draw the eyes to the curvature of the wearer’s figure, which meant Eda knows. And she isn’t holding anything back it seems. 

What Luz would have given to see Lilith’s face when Elara walked out in that. Pfft.

The healer crossed the room in complete silence, a sway in her hips that even stoic Lilith Clawthorne would have been weak in the knees at the sight of. Not holding back at all. She climbs into the bed and mirrors Luz’s pose, her faint smile effortlessly curling into a smirk. “It’s not to say I haven’t indulged in sleepovers,” she says, still thinking over her next words with a soft hum. “Mine just so happens to be a bit more... adult is all.”

“Adult,” Luz echoed the word, rolling it around on her tongue as the dots connected. Oh. “Dios!” Luz couldn’t help but call back in a shriek; the blood pounding in her ears was making it difficult to focus on anything but the heat of the blush on her cheeks. She rolled onto her back, throwing her pillow over her face to hide how flustered she was. It’s pointless, her mind unhelpfully supplies, when Elara’s spell enhanced eyes can read her as clear as day. “Que la tierra me trague.”

A chuckle caressed her heated ears. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Liar. Luz tugged her pillow down enough to reveal her disbelieving glare at the healer, whose smirk widened as mischief brightened her eyes. Luz rolled her eyes, gaze dropping to land on her pillow. “You’ve been with other people?” She asked, her voice muffled from the pillow still clutched to the lower half of her face. She wasn’t judging, per se; Elara’s free to see whoever she pleases, but Luz is a little prickly with Lilith and the matters of her heart. You’re in love with Lilith, right? Why even date someone else?

The teen didn’t realize her brows had furrowed until a thumb was softly smoothing out the crease in the middle of her forehead. “You get the same little scowl Lilith does when she’s deep in thought,” Elara cajoled wryly. The thumb left, a warm tingling left in its absence. “It has to be one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Luz let out an embarrassed groan, burying her face back into her pillow, and Elara laughed softly at that, and Luz could feel her blush erupt all the way to the roots of her hair. “Just answer the question! Dios, I don’t know who’s worse about simple answers, you or Eda.”

“I have to hand it to Eda. I did learn from her after all.”

Luz removed the pillow from her face, clutching it close to her chest instead. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said softly, cautiously. “I can back off if you want me to.”

“It’s not that,” Elara says, and her voice is weak and soft and Luz’s heart recoils at the sound of it, squeezing painfully in her chest in sympathy. “Dating is meant for two people in the throes of new love, a hope to build a future together. Not only has my life never permitted me time to even plan a date, I just don’t have it in me to string someone along until they realize I don’t feel the same way they do for me.” Her smile vanishes; all the warmth on her face fled with it. “Not again, that is.”

Luz considered that. She felt her eyebrows knitting together, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “You tried to move on from Lilith, didn’t you?”

“No,” Elara answered, simply and instantly. “I tried to let her go.”

Turning her head, Luz met Elara’s eyes curiously. “There’s a difference?”

“Yes,” Elara said slowly, hesitantly, her tone forced and light. “I have always known Lilith has been the one for me from the moment I laid eyes on her, at an age before I even truly understood what that kind of love meant. Another has not, nor will they ever, even come close to it,” she paused, her fingertips tracing a pattern on Luz’s mattress. “Moving on is pointless for me, because I can’t. But I thought I could at least let her go and find someone to fill the emptiness left in me without her.”

A beat of silence passed. “It didn’t work out,” Luz asked in a hushed tone. “Did it?”

Elara gave a long, low hum. “I really thought it would; if I could make it work with anyone it ought to have been her, and I tried -really, really did try to love her as equally as she loved me.”

“You can’t force yourself to love someone.” Real helpful, Noceda. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?

That garnered another hum. “You're right; you can't force it. And I wound up hurting her by trying to.”

Luz sealed the lid tightly on her curiosity; she wanted to know who could tempt Elara enough to consider letting Lilith go, but she didn’t need Elara’s spell to see the other woman was still affected by the hurt she had caused someone. She didn’t need Luz to continue reopening the wounds with her questions. 

“Okay,” her voice, low and careful, reignited some of the lost warmth in the other woman. “No dating then, but you’ve had…”

“Lovers?” Elara finished, relishing in the renewed flush on Luz’s cheeks. “Yes, I have taken lovers.” She rolls her eyes. “Some I’m not particularly proud of.”

Luz thought it over. “How come?” She asked after a beat. She picked at her pillowcase, keeping her eyes averted from the healer, lest she wanted her flush to melt her face off. Her mami’s given her the sex talk, and Eda has jokingly attempted it a few times whenever Amity’s around -for whatever reason- but she’s never casually talked about it like this to someone before. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Elara’s smile was equally soft and concerning, like there was something she could never tell Luz. “Your concern is touching, sweetie, but you needn’t worry. No one ever hurt me.”

“You can tell me if they did,” Luz frowned. “I might not look like much, but I’ve taken men down twice my size. Plus, I’ve got some wicked human skill sets they won’t even see coming.” And by that, she means she’s played a lot of Mortal Kombat and Super Smash Bros in her time. 

Snorting, the healer rolled onto her back, hands falling to rest on her stomach. “Why the curiosity, sweetie?” She asks instead, inclining her head; a brow quirked. “Have someone you’re interested in?”

“No,” Luz answered with her own snort. I won’t let myself fall for anyone on the Isles, because who’s to say I have a forever here? She rolled onto her stomach, her pillow situated under her chin and her arms folded beneath it. “Maybe you don’t remember,” she teases gently. “But this is what you do at sleepovers. You talk about boys...well, I guess girls in this case.” Wait, is Elara only into women?

“Oh.”

Surprise rippled through Elara’s body in minute ways only someone observant enough could notice; Luz barely catches it before it’s replaced by a careful, subtle stilling, a hum resounding at the back of the healer’s throat. Luz’s eyes were fixed on her now, attempting to piece together what that look meant. 

Then it clicks.  

Oh, indeed. Slowly, Luz took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as clarity began to sink in. Besides their daily chats that have since shifted away from just daily inquiries of Luz’s handling of the healer’s elixirs, has anyone ever talked to Elara like she isn’t a healer? Luz has heard about her day enough to know the other woman is constantly in motion, jumping from her patients in need of therapy like Luz, to visiting her clinics across the Isles and giving her staff a hand, to training new apprentices, to teaching said apprentices that are interested in learning what is essentially the Isles’ version of psychology. 

There hasn’t been any mention of friends, either visiting her or vice versa. And unless their schedules line up, the only family member Elara talks about having seen on some days is the little sister in the same field as her. Is that all Elara has been to anyone, just some powerful healer; not even a person anymore? 

A prodigy. A miracle worker. Accomplisher of the impossible. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been just Elara?” Luz asked, wondering if she would get an honest answer or an evasion. 

Elara just blinks, frowns a little and then smiles. It’s hollow, like the look in her eyes when Luz once accused her of not being Lilith’s friend at her first session with the healer. “I’m sorry, what?” She didn’t sound upset, only resigned.

It’s an evasion, albeit a small one; it tears a new laceration in Luz’s chest. “You know,” Luz prattled on, a determined glint in her eyes. She has little intentions of backing down now. “Just Elara. Elara who loves her plants and meticulously cares for them everyday, Elara who has the world’s biggest sweet tooth, Elara who loves with her whole heart and is such a mom to those she holds dear to her. That Elara. When have you been her around anyone else but yourself?” 

Elara looked at the teen then, staring for a string of breaths that had Luz holding hers. Elara’s eyes are dangerous, something lurking in them that wanted to be set free but was chained too far down to ever hope for escape. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her brows knitted in confusion as if she wasn’t sure what. No, if she wasn’t sure she could. 

“I appreciate the concern, Luz,” Elara was like stone in front of her, still and cold and silent. “But I don’t need it, and I’d like for you to back off now.”

A door has been slammed shut in Luz’s face, and it hurts. 

"Why," she pressed on, her voice low and weak. “Do you think you can’t separate the two? Will the world end if you’re not the Isles’ residential prodigy healer for a single second?”

“I will not ask again,” Elara warns; the weakness etched along her skin is new, like whatever happened to make Elara this way has scarred her in an irreparable way; Luz wants to help. “Please, Luz.”

“But...”

“Enough."

Elara’s eyes are pained. Unforgiving. It eats at her and Luz can’t help it. Panic stricken, heart racing and breath lost somewhere along the way, Luz wants to race out of the room and shake Lilith until she understands. She wants to hit her, to yell at her, to cry because Lilith meant more to Elara than the healer’s own life meant to her. (“I’m selfless by nature; it’s why I’m so good at what I do, but Lilith makes me selfish in ways I’m usually not. I’d go to the ends of the world for her.”) Lilith could help, but she’s so...how little must one think of themselves not to see the sheer love someone has for them when it’s staring right at them in the face? It’s a desire so consuming her muscles tremble in the effort to keep herself from going through with it, to remain here. She’s not sure then what else she can do for Elara. How can I help? You’re always helping me, so what can I-

A set of soft, sure hands grasp her arm, tugging on her gently to slide across the space separating their bodies until Luz’s head is tucked under a chin, her arm latching onto the healer’s waist. Fingers gently scrape against the back of her neck, absentmindedly drawing a pattern against the skin there, as if she’s done it a thousand times before. “Sometimes I forget you’re still just a child,” Elara whispers. “But if you’re ever considering a future on the Isles, you’d make a wonderful healer, my love.”

Luz shifts, lifting her head to rest her chin on her hand where it lay on Elara’s chest. “Elara.” She says, because that’s all she can manage. 

Elara shrugs, and suddenly she changes. The pain in her eyes is snuffed for one searching, always searching, searching for something Luz wants to help her find, and her smile seems genuine when she whispers. “Leave it be, sweetie.”

I don’t want to. “Okay,” Luz says instead. “We can come back to it at another time.” When you’re ready, like you taught me.

Elara blinks, lost. Then a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “Another time,” she echoes. 

Dropping her gaze, Luz tugs on a lock of Elara’s hair, a thought filtering in that she’s never seen the woman with her hair pulled up. Tucked in her wide brim hats, yes, but never actually held up by a hair tie before. “I don’t think I’m healer material anyway. I don’t even know any healing glyphs; if there even are any.” 

“Maybe not in that field of healing, sweetie, but in my field you’re a natural,” Elara promises, her fingers still drawing that same pattern on the back of her neck. “You draw people in so effortlessly a stranger becomes your friend in less than a minute. Even without the All-Knowing Sight you pick up on things others don’t ever notice. I can only imagine what you could accomplish with the spell.”

Luz tilts her head for a moment, considering it, her eyes tracing over the lines of the glyph in Elara’s eyes. “Is that why it’s passive,” she asks after a moment. Elara’s features crease with confusion; Luz shifts forward to press her fingertips against the skin under one of the woman’s eyes. “The All-Knowing Sight spell. Is it passive because the glyph is inscribed in your eyes? Like my glyphs on paper, you hit it and they activate. Do you just blink and bam you can read people?” She paused, hand dropping back down. “I guess then you’d constantly be switching it on and off. Do you have a command in your head? Like, spell on? Legilimency? Mind reader?”

“I can’t read minds, sweetie,” Elara pursed her lips, amused.

“I don’t know,” mahogany eyes glinted sharply at her. “You sure do have an uncanny ability to just know what someone is thinking.”

Elara hummed, nodding her head slightly. “That’s because your emotions give me an idea as to what you’re thinking. The better I know someone, the easier it is for me to deduce their thought process.”

“You’re basically telling me you can read my mind.”

Elara’s eyes lifted skyward. “Well, your thoughts do filter fairly loudly.”

“Ah-ha!” Luz exclaims, the woman beneath her flinching in surprise at the volume of her voice. “You admitted it! You can read minds! I knew it.”

“I really can’t,” Elara’s voice, chipper and light and coated in amusement, and then she turns thoughtful. “And I’ve never been aware of a glyph inscribed in my eyes.”

“Really?” Luz blinked in surprise at the words. “I can see it. I have yet to not see it there; so I thought that’s why it didn’t need a spell circle.” She cocked her head. “I have it, actually, jotted down in my notebook.”

“You jotted it down,” Elara echoed, a sudden stiffening in her frame. “Did you attempt to cast it?”

“I…” Luz frowned, trailing off. “I thought…” I thought I could be the first to learn it. Understand what it is you see.

Shock. Panic. Anger. Happiness. Uncertainty. 

Luz could swear in that moment that every emotion flashed in those golden hued irises; they raced so fast and furious they ran together, overlapping and conflicting so that Luz could barely tell them apart. Elara bristled, jerking up into a seated position, a roiling mass of anger radiating off of her that had Luz flinching as she moved back. The sides of her face were seized by an iron grip, one of Elara’s hands shifting down to tilt her chin up, and the healer’s eyes are so bright, a subtle horror etched into her features; Luz can’t explain why she felt so uneasy at the sight of it. 

“Luz,” she growled, voice low and sibilant, a sharp contrast to her typical warm, cheerful demeanor. “Listen to me when I say this,” her eyes are hard and cutting; so bright they’re burning Luz’s retinas. “This isn’t a spell you can play around with. It can hurt you if it’s casted improperly.” Her thumb swipes over Luz’s cheekbone, the digit trembling. “Did you activate the glyph? What happened? Were you hurt?” There’s something left unsaid on the tip of her tongue, but Luz can’t get an idea of what it could be. 

Stiff with newfound terror, Luz barely managed a nod; then a swift shake of her head at the rapidly paling pallor on the other woman’s face. “I did activate the glyph,” she hastily explains, her nails digging into the meat of her thighs to keep from reaching out to the healer who seemed so scared. “My eyes tingled and everything was too bright for a while, but nothing else happened and it went away after a couple of hours.” 

They stay like that for a few seconds, long moments that tick forever and last an eternity, while Elara examines her over with eyes that are always searching. Finally, Elara softened, posture relaxing and the brightness dimming until all that remains is the warm gold. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she breathes, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. “If you want to learn the spell,” she drops the hand from Luz’s chin, eyes opening. “I’m more than willing to teach you, but please don’t try and learn it on your own. Please. ”

Luz nodded, eyes wide. Why? “I won’t,” she whispered instead. “I promise.” And she does, because the look on Elara’s face scared her more than the thought of harming herself did. What happened for you to fear your own spell?

Elara nodded back, apparently satisfied. “Light sensitivity is to be expected when learning to adapt to the spell; everything is enhanced when it’s casted. You’re essentially seeing what the naked eye can’t, and it can be... overwhelming.” The hand on Luz’s cheek twitches as if to flee, though it doesn’t. “Your eyes need to be trained to handle it, or else you risk going blind from the strain.” 

You were, what, seven when you created the spell? Luz tilted her head back, eyes on the lone sphere of light floating aimlessly around her room. You were a kid, and you’re telling me you made a spell that needed patience and understanding to safely use? “Just how smart are you?” She said aloud without meaning to.

“I’m sorry?”

Well, shit, Luz thought, mentally slapping herself upside the head. “I was just thinking, you know, you made this spell that can be pretty harming for the caster when you were a kid, and you had the patience to learn to properly handle it and everything,” she blew out a breath. “Just... how smart are you?”

“I was far beyond the criteria expected of me,” Elara shrugged, nonchalant. “Though I’m nothing compared to Eda.”

Luz twitched. “You’re pulling my leg, right? Eda? ” My didn't finish school, con artist, trash slug rifling through mentor is smarter than you?

“I’m not.” Elara gave a melancholy smile. “She likes to play dumb. People don’t pay attention to you when they think you’re stupid.”

“Why wou-”

Interrupted, Luz was tugged against a warm body as the other woman dropped back down onto the mattress. “Ask Eda,” is whispered against the side of her head, a drowsy lull in her voice. “She’ll tell you.”

Luz rolls onto her back, but keeps close to the healer, their shoulders brushing. “Speaking of Eda,” she lets mischievousness color her tone as she fiddles with the silk nightgown. “She had nothing else you could borrow?” 

Elara shuffles against the pillow beneath and hums. “So she says,” she quips. “It’s not much different from what I usually wear, and though Eda might be aware of my preferences in nightwear, I’m certain the look on Lilith’s face was her original goal rather than my comfort.”

Luz snorted. “How did she react?” She let her gaze wander over the apparel again. The darkest shade Luz’s ever seen the healer sport was maroon, so the sudden sight of the black material on her pale skin was strange for the teen. She can only imagine how Lilith handled it, assuming Elara’s never worn black before.

Elara smiled faintly, looking both sleepy and pleased. “To put it as mildly as I can,” she purrs. “If I were certain Lilith wouldn’t go running for the hills by morning, I would not have hesitated to have taken her to bed right then." 

The motion was an instant one as Luz smacked the other woman in the face with her pillow. “A simple ‘she liked it’ would have sufficed!” She shrieked, though she was laughing between the bouts of mortification. “Dios, I will make you sleep on the floor.”

Elara lowered the pillow, her bell-like laugh warming Luz’s heart. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” she mocked an apologetic smile, but the amusement dancing in her eyes gave her away. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

“You better,” Luz mumbled around a yawn, snatching her pillow back and rolling onto her stomach, the side of her head secured in its downy softness and her arms shoved under it. She closed her eyes, but peaked one open after a thought crossed her mind. “I won’t be mad.”

“Hm?” Elara hummed, rolling onto her side, eyelids fluttering as sleep’s siren song caressed her ears.

“If you want to sneak into Lilith’s room,” Luz murmured, eye slipping closed. “I won’t be mad if you do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Luz felt a hand rest gently on her forearm, giving a comforting squeeze. “Sleep, my love.”

This time her slumber is deep. Dreamless. 

Chapter Text

The cold wouldn’t come out of her skin.

The water ran a long time before it warmed -not that the temperature was of any consequential importance to her. For so long -had she ever not felt it?- Lilith has always felt cold and numb, like someone’s dunked her in water below zero. It was like it had settled deep in her bones, freezing her marrow. She could see the steam rising around her in the shower, could feel the scalding heat of the water on her back, but the cold couldn’t leave her. The heat of a shower could not contend with it. A spell was merely wasted magic. A quiet voice nestled in the back of her mind says it should matter, but it’s become so ingrained in her Lilith can’t ever imagine the cold leaving. And the only two with the power to thaw her, seeping an addictive warmth in her, are Edalyn and Elara.

Except, I can no longer feel Edalyn.

Lilith let the water wash over her, a painful lurch in her chest before she dismissed the thought entirely. Too much. She ran her hands through her hair, lathering up her shampoo while casting a wary eye on the cobra curled up on the counter through the slit in the shower curtain. Elara’s palisman had stuck close to her sister until their paths separated for the night -Elara with Luz, Edalyn to her room, and Lilith to wash away the grit of her time on The Knee- and now it seemed its intentions were to remain with Lilith. She’s the least bit pleased about the development. 

The only upside was the curse has quieted down to a whisper; suppose it helped that from the moment Luz’s bedroom door closed and the healer disappeared behind it, Elara’s magic tempered down to a soft brush against Lilith’s instead of overwhelming her senses, which meant the curse could return to dormancy and take with it the insufferable ache it induced in her. Could forget how enticing Elara’s heat had been when pressed so closely against her body, how she yearned to pull her even closer. And Elara’s scent -so familiar; so uniquely her. Roses and herbs. Alluring.

She smacked her forehead against the cool tile wall of the shower. What had she been thinking? What was she still thinking? She chastised herself. She was not lusting after Elara. She was not. She refused to. It had to be a combination of Elara’s magic and the curse’s influence. The mere thought of making the healer an object of sexual desire was disturbing, disgusting, even, because she was so perfect -honest, sincere, fair- everything that Lilith was not, that it filled Lilith to the brim with revulsion at even having these repulsive thoughts about her. 

But she wanted to. There was no way she wouldn’t want to. Relationships don’t come naturally to Lilith. If she’s honest, she’s awful at them -she’s too awkward, too many sharp edges, too wrong- but what she isn’t is blind. Elara is beautiful. Breathtakingly so. She’s brilliant, caring, warm; everything about her is so attractive to Lilith. And it’s dangerous. It takes all of Lilith’s self-control not to give under the curse’s demands to claim and make Elara’s hers. My mate. Mine. 

The curse has never been this close to the surface with the healer around; Lilith’s aware now to not ever let it happen if Lilith loses control of the beast. You wretched creature. It’s added to her list of reasons to break the curse as soon as Luz can return home. She cannot continue to be subjected to the beast’s temptations of taking what it believes belong to them. And she fears it has only been made worse by the little trick Edalyn is playing on her. 

Eda’s smirk spelt trouble; Lilith was just a little too late to realize what said trouble was alluding to. 

“Love?”

Lilith stood outside Luz’s cracked door, hand aloft as if to knock, when she turned at the term of endearment being called and the soft patter of bare feet on wood. And her jaw...dropped. Hit the ground with a crash, taking her mental functions with it on its suicide dive. 

Elara was…

She was…

Breathtaking. 

On anyone else, Lilith would call it skimpy, but the healer made it seem elegant. The tiny slip she wore -Lilith could not bring herself to call it nightwear, not on her life- looked like it had been created with Elara in it. The material was a shiny obsidian, its contours defining the woman’s soft curves. It forbade blinking or any lapse of attention on the curvature of her waist, the flare of elegant hips, and the swell of the bust it emphasized. 

Lilith's eyes feverishly dart over the curves of her bare shoulders to the maroon painted toes. And then her forehead. The tip of her little nose. The curved shape of her lips. The swell of her chest. And then she grazes over the exposed thighs -the cut of the gown shorter than any dress Elara has worn before- and Lilith has the thought to shove Elara up a wall. And onto her thigh. And against her- NO! Look away, Clawthorne!

Lilith had no idea where to look. Was she even allowed to look? Each part was vying for her attention and her brain had promptly aborted all processes and abandoned ship. So she stood there, floored and mouth still wide open, as she failed to reorient herself. Why, she whined. Are you so lovely?

And the curse. Her fingers itched to down another elixir to speed up the process of silencing the monstrosity hidden beneath the surface. It clawed and howled in her mind, sharp chittering resounding in her skull that called out for her to take what belongs to her. But Elara isn’t some object for keeps, and Lilith will not bend to the beast’s insistence. 

“Love?”

Suddenly, there’s warm fingertips against the back of her hand, tapping absently. The touch impossibly light, before it shifts to coil a gentle hand around her wrist, those fingertips worming their way beneath her coat to press against her skin. If coherent thought were possible, Lilith might have noted that Elara has never ventured any higher than her wrist when she sneaks beneath the clothes’ sleeve. Merely a few inches and she’d come into contact with the raised skin Lilith couldn’t lie her way out of. 

“Elara.” Lilith breathed softly, tortured.

They were so close; so close that Lilith could catch whiffs of the familiar rose scent that’s clung to Elara since the day Lilith met her when they were kids and life was a simpler time, so close that she could number each dark eyelash, so close she could spy the individual specks of gold in her eyes. A gold unlike any other on the Isles. (Mira has the same shade, yes, but Elara’s is warm and lovely and soft.)

Elara was biting her lip. “You alright, love?” Her eyes danced over her features; most likely, she was still unable to read Lilith’s soul. Which was a blessing, because Lilith’s a little afraid of her seeing what the curse wants her to do to the smaller woman. 

“I don’t know who’s needier of the two, Owlbert or A- oh, hey, Lily.”

She didn’t realize how comfortable she’d gotten in Elara’s nearness until the sound of her sister’s voice had her jumping back, the soft touch on her wrist slipping away and the curse whining at the loss of it. 

Edalyn came up from behind the healer, an arm thoughtlessly coming up to use the top of Elara’s head as an armrest as she sidled up beside her. “You alright there, sis?” Her tone conveyed worry, but the Cheshire grin on her face spoke volumes. 

When Lilith said nothing -she was still regaining control of her functions- and just stood there staring awkwardly at the two other women, Edalyn leaned forward and grinned, “Lookin’ a little flushed there, Lily. Not sick, are you?” 

Lilith snapped her eyes to her sister, looking suspiciously at her. “I’m fine.” She huffed. 

Eda’s grin widens. “Whatever you say, sis.”

Lilith doesn’t dare speak again, focusing on the ease at which the two before her handle intimacy; where Lilith struggles to even talk herself into taking someone’s hands in hers, Edalyn has always been a little more natural in her motions, and Elara downright born to touch another (not surprising, as she was raised by a woman who knew no concept of personal space). She focuses on how Edalyn mindlessly moves her arm from Elara’s head to drape it over her shoulders, fingers tugging on the ends of her hair. How Elara unconsciously leans into Edalyn’s side, their body heat meddling into one, eyes soft and tone gentle as she lightly scolds Lilith’s sister. How the healer’s hand pats Edalyn’s cheek in a repetitive motion she’s done for years to show her affection to the Clawthorne sisters, and Edalyn responds with a snort and a gentle swat to cease the action. 

They’re beautiful together. Compliment each other -Elara’s calm demeanor to Edalyn’s boisterous one, the rational voice to her sister’s irrational one. They fit, like two pieces of a puzzle. Meant to be. 

“What do you think,” Edalyn’s voice roused Lilith from her temporary stupor. “I found this little number in the back of my closet. The color looks good on her, doesn’t it?” 

She’s testing Lilith. There’s not a chance she isn’t testing Lilith. Without her permission, her eyes sweep back over the outfit in question. Just when she couldn’t get more attractive to Lilith, here she was, proving her wrong. And the curse was all too happy to drink her in. 

Lilith tears her eyes away, settling to look around the room and off Elara. “Isn’t it a little inappropriate for a-” Her brows furrowed. “What was it? A girls’ night with Luz? Don’t you have anything else for her to wear?” Please, please have something else. 

“Fresh out,” Edalyn said coyly. “Besides, shortstack’s got a drawer full of these little numbers, so really, it’s by luck I had something similar for her comfort.” 

The curse shrieks, Lilith isn’t sure what she says to keep her thoughts off what that implies, and Edalyn spirals down an unending line of teases that has Lilith wanting to throttle her sister. And Elara…

Elara’s looking at her with those dark, intense eyes. 

Lilith hung her head, letting the water pummel her as she tried to block out the image now seared behind her eyelids. It isn’t fair. Next to Edalyn, Elara’s the only one who’s ever been comfortable around her -who Lilith has ever been comfortable around- and she can’t pinpoint when the annoying, little Rime girl with the touchy hands tagging along behind her sister shifted before her very eyes to someone Lilith felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush when around...but she has, and Lilith doesn’t know how to cope with it. The lonely, childish, part of her heart wants more and more to keep Elara’s soft eyes on her, to keep that smile on her -take that selfless love Elara genuine feels and keep it all to herself- and the sheer guilt of even being able to feel that way is eating at her. Because while Lilith may harbor these feelings, Elara’s lie elsewhere, with someone worth her time. 

Edalyn. Lilith will not take this from her; she has taken so much from her sister as it is. Edalyn is the best choice for Elara. Edalyn is warm, caring, and when Lilith heals her sister, powerful. Edalyn has never hurt Elara. 

Elara will be made a Clawthorne...

“Careful, sweetie, or you’ll make a mess.”

“Buhh issh sho good!”

Lilith was almost afraid to look up from her own plate; there’s not a doubt in her mind it’s a familiar sight waiting for her. Since Luz started her sessions with Elara after school, the three have developed a bit of a routine -all because Elara refuses to accept any forms of payment from Lilith, even when the elder Clawthorne assured the other woman she has the snails to spare; Lilith’s always been frugal with her earnings -prepared for the worst, if one will. She was still met with a blasé 'I hardly have need of it’ counter from Elara, but Lilith wasn’t just going to let the healer fly all the way to Bonesborough for nothing. So they settled on a compromise: a late afternoon lunch. 

Which is where they are currently, seated at a table outside of a café called Brew-tiful, one of the few restaurants in Bonesborough Edalyn hasn’t been banned from, nor does the owner have any interest in turning them over to the Emperor’s Coven. And judging by the muffled quality of Luz’s voice, Lilith doesn’t need to guess the teen has shoved a rather large bite of her slice of cake into her mouth, cheeks bulging at the amount of food in her mouth. If she’s lucky, which she rarely is, Luz hasn’t managed to smear frosting all over her face...again.

A glance up confirms what she already knew, and Lilith felt a sigh building in her lungs. Because, yes, Luz has shoved too large of a bite of her cake into her mouth. And, yes, her cheeks are bulging at the amount of food in her mouth. And, unsurprisingly, it’s not in Lilith’s luck that Luz’s face be spared of the disastrous mess of frosting smeared all over her cheeks. The sigh exhales. 

Her fork is released, fingers rubbing slow circles into her temples. “Tell me you didn’t shove that in your mouth,” Lilith scolds. It’s a rhetorical set of words, really. One merely needs to cast their gaze on Luz’s plate to gauge how much of her cake is missing and then flick up to how much is still in the process of being chewed into smaller pieces for her to swallow to know the answer. “Are you trying to choke yourself? Because this is how you do it.”

Lilith’s scowling, head shaking in disapproval, when she hears the laugh. Like wind chimes rustling in the breeze. 

Hand curled under Luz’s chin to direct her to face the healer, a napkin in the other, Elara’s shoulders shake with mirth as she carefully dabs at the mess on Luz’s face, who just leans into the contact and keeps on chewing the food in her mouth that Lilith swears she’ll one day choke on. “Oh, leave her be, love,” she says rationally, eyes a sea of liquid gold when they briefly flicker over to meet her gaze. “Let the dear enjoy her cake. She’s hardly going to choke on it with us here.”

Lilith harrumphs. “She orders the same cake every time we come here,” she counters, still a little sour, but lightening. “It can’t seriously still-” Luz’s lips began to part“-don’t you dare speak with your mouth full, young lady-” and Luz’s mouth snaps shut in an instant “-be that good to nearly choke on. Smaller bites won’t kill her.” 

Luz swallows, rounding on Lilith with a smile fit to rival the sun. If Lilith didn’t know any better, she’d swear Elara and Luz were related by how eerily similar their smiles were. “But it is good, Lilith!” She exclaims, dancing in her seat next to the healer, their shoulders brushing occasionally with Luz’s enthusiastic movements. “You have to try it! It’s like the food gods heard our prayers and blessed us with this decadent dessert for our humble mouths to cherish.” And also their love for sickening sweet treats. 

Lilith blinked. “I’m sorry, the what?” And then her features shift to a glower when she catches the snicker Elara attempts to hide behind a cough. 

The teen’s plate is slid over to her side of the table and what’s left of Luz’s cake is offered to the elder Clawthorne. “Food gods, Lilith,” Luz explains, fingers waggling. “Who else could possibly bless us with the ability to create such delicious dishes?”

"Bakers and chefs, Luz,” Lilith deadpans. She eyed the plate warily. It did look good. The slice was a dark, rich brown, almost black in the sun’s setting light. And that aroma, strong and sweet. “It doesn’t take a god for someone to decide one day to combine ingredients together and call it a recipe.” 

“Sure,” Luz concedes seriously, as if they’re discussing the complexities of life. “Anyone can learn to cook, but it takes someone special to create works of art out of food.” She nods her head. “And that cake is a work of art.”

“...a work of art.”

“You’ll have to forgive her, sweetie,” the healer was smiling crookedly at Lilith, an Edalyn like smile if you asked Lilith, tapping a finger to the edge of the plate. “Lily dear doesn’t experience the same wonders to sweets as we do.” 

Luz gasped, eyes wide. “Lilith, no! Say it ain’t so!”

She would say it is so. “There’s nothing wonderful about a bellyache,” Lilith snarked with a roll of her eyes. “Which you will have later, and I will have to deal with your whining.”

Her sound rejection didn’t do a thing to deter the healer’s amusement, it seemed. “See what I mean, sweetie?” Elara half-tittered, nose wrinkling in joy. “My mother is a master baker; she’s tried for years to get Lilith here to love the wonders that come from enjoying a sweet treat. But, alas, my dear love refuses.” 

“Your mother is evil incarnate,” Lilith replied flatly. “I can’t even count the number of times she’s sent Edalyn home hopped up on enough sugar to keel over a gryphon. Do you know how hard it is to get her into bed when she’s literally vibrating?”

“I have an idea,” Elara purrs; then she chuckles softly. “And my mother isn’t evil, Lily dear. She simply likes to spoil her kids. Especially Edalyn. She liked having someone so eager to test out her latest creations on.” 

“Ah, so that’s where Edalyn gets her rotten attitude from.”

“She’ll spoil you too if you become a Rime.”

“I’d rather not share the same name as the evil incarnate, nor do I want to be in any shape or form related to your sociopathic sister.” 

Elara propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, mirth twinkling in her eyes. “Aw, but Lilith Rime has such a nice ring to it, love.” And Lilith almost choked at the words as the other woman rested her chin atop her palms, the barest hint of a smile curving her lips. “Don’t you think, Luz?”

Luz had been a quiet specter through the whole back and forth, eyes bouncing between the women with her hands covering her mouth as she withholds the laugh bubbling in her throat. “Oh, Lilith Rime,” she said slowly, testing the words, head tilting a little. “It sounds so cute! I like it.”

Heat flushed through Lilith from head to toe, burning bright in her cheeks. “That’s-” Her mouth opened and closed without words. She swallowed hard. “No.” She gritted out. “No, it doesn’t. Why would I- actually, no. Just no.”

“Aw,” Luz pouted, her smile slackening; Lilith wanted to cave under it, but then she perked up. “Well, Elara Clawthorne sounds pretty cute, too.”

Lilith stared dumbstruck, heartbeat thrumming hard and fast under her ribcage. It’s a bittersweet feeling, the ache at how lovely Elara Clawthorne sounds. 

...but it will be by Edalyn’s hand.

Finally feeling clean, Lilith shut off the water and threw the curtain aside to grab her towel and begin drying off. Eyes stay locked on the healer’s palisman, which has since shifted its own stare to the door and off Lilith. She isn’t like her sister and Elara; she doesn’t share the same connection to the palismans. To them they’re cherished companions, bonded for life, but to Lilith they’re merely vessels for their excess magic. And unless it’s necessary, Lilith has never spoken to her palisman, nor did she ever give it a name. Edalyn, on the other hand, likes to refer to her palisman as Brangwen. 

It’s ridiculous, she thought. She slipped into the familiar comfort of the sweater and leggings Edalyn was nice enough to part with when Lilith first moved into the Owl House, staring at herself in the mirror. Pushing into her late forties agreed with her; she wished she could say she looked young for her age, but that simply wasn’t true. Aging gracefully, as they called it, and if the curse hadn’t just affected her magic but her looks as well, Edalyn would look so much younger. She was beautiful now, but Lilith knew without a shadow of a doubt how untouched by time Edalyn would appear if it weren’t for the curse.

Something else I’ve taken from her. 

And then her eyes flicked down to the palisman again, its beady eyes peering back at her and then to the door. Back and forth. Toweling her hair dry, Lilith sneered as she let the vile creature slither up her arm and settle on her shoulder, sighing as she stepped out of the bathroom. The house was quiet, a familiar stillness Lilith had grown accustomed to in the nights sleep eludes her, but what she wasn’t acquainted with was her little sister still awake. 

Edayln was suddenly walking out of her room, rubbing her eyes wearily as she appeared in a loose blue sweater and shorts. “Finally,” Edalyn grouched. “Thought you’d never get outta there.”

Slightly alarmed and chagrined, Lilith asked quietly, “I’m sorry, did you need the bathroom?” 

“No.”

Then there were no more words. No hesitations as Lilith fell into her sister’s arms when Edalyn crushed her against her body tight enough to steal the air from the elder sister’s lungs. Her warmth was overwhelming. It isn’t the familiar thrum of Edalyn’s magic that held the power to banish Lilith’s cold -that just ceased to be, but the soft warmth that bleeds into Lilith with something that simply must be love. Lilith didn’t know whether to cry or beg for forgiveness. What did I do to deserve you? Her chest felt full, and her stomach was doing flips. All her apprehension about the night’s events melted away now that she was safe in her sister’s arms. Home. 

“You scared the shit outta me, Lily,” Edalyn whispered against her ear, and Lilith exhaled a breathy laugh, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. “Yeah, yeah, I know, no swearing. But you don’t get to scold me about it now,” she gripped Lilith tighter to her, a shaky hand burying itself in her wet hair. “You said two days. Two. Suddenly it’s the third night with no contact from you, and I was scared. Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?”

I’m sorry. Lilith keens, hugging her tighter than tight, fingers clutched to the back of her sweater, and she doesn’t think anyone can make her let go. I’m sorry for everything. 

//

“Wanna tell me why you were up there longer than what we agreed upon?”

Downstairs now in an attempt to not disturb the two hopefully sleeping occupants in Luz’s room, a mug of apple blood in hand, Eda plopped onto the couch with a huff, leveling a hard stare at her sister. “Or, y’know, shall I take a guess?”

Lilith stands in the middle of the living room; she isn’t looking at her sister. The younger Clawthorne wonders if maybe she’s afraid of what Eda will find -maybe she’s thinking Eda’s a moment’s thought away from kicking her out of her home because of the secrets that pile up, and the lies she tries so hard to rationalize as necessary, and the sting of betrayal when they’re exposed to the open air. 

Eda can’t change her sister; it’s a sad reality, and it is a hard truth to swallow. Lilith -no, their parents- has hardwired her mind into following a strict set of instructions; the first set had simply been to protect her sister and cherish her, and then it shifted to surpassing her sister and becoming the Isles most powerful witch, and when that failed, she shifted again to doing whatever was necessary to ensure she was the best. And then it destroyed her, which resulted in her mashing together protecting her sister and doing whatever is necessary to do it into one single directive. One would think her dear sister might learn from how often this backfires on her, but habits are hard to break; Eda’s all too familiar with it. 

Lilith keeps secrets in spades. Eda lets the tang of the apple blood settle on her taste buds before she swallows, eyes roaming over her sister’s still figure -it still took her by surprise sometimes that her Lily was home. By her side once again.

 It’s strange, more often than not, to see what is visually the same face she’s known her whole life here at the Owl House day in and day out -familiar; yet a stranger. Lilith looks older, sharper somehow -like their mother. It’s the eyes, Eda realizes. Eda was fairly young when the soft affection in her mother’s eyes hardened to steel pools of liquid metal; a cold indifference that swam in Eda’s memories that stared back at her on Lilith’s face. At least her elder sister still held a touch of warmth in her gaze, a softness around the edges. Love. She still has it in her to love me. 

Eda sometimes still can’t imagine she’d ever see her sister in these clothes-the Lilith she grew up with had always been a stickler about appearances, except in the case of grugby; that was the only time Eda believed her sister was ever herself. Free. And Coven Leader Lilith Clawthorne had been so straight and narrow it was hard to believe she was the same curly haired girl she lovingly called her sister. This look still didn’t quite match, but it was the closest she’s ever been to Lily and so far off from Lilith. It was -it was fine. Because Lily was here, reunited with her, and Eda has to swallow another mouthful of apple blood to stifle the sob bubbling up the back of her throat. This is her Lily, her sister. Her home.

She smells the same, and hugs the same, and when Edalyn is uttered in her soft timbre, it feels the same. And Eda can’t ever go back to the way her life was before; the thought that this could all be a dream, that one day she’ll wake up and Lilith will be gone... leave Eda alone... it terrifies her. I don’t want to live without you. 

“Twins are created from the same magical energy. It’s why we share the connection we do. Equals, even if one is weaker than the other. Our reason for living, because we are essentially one in the same. Family, because even surrounded by our loved ones, our blood sings only for our soul-bound.”

Equal. Her reason for living. Family. The Clawthorne sisters are by no means twins; they weren’t brought into existence by the same magical energy that split in their mother’s womb, but before Luz came barreling into her life and reawakening that part of her dormant heart, Lilith alone once occupied the space. Sill occupies it, even after everything she’s done. Lilith is her equal; an equal not in the sense of magic, as Eda vastly overpowered her, but in the sense that Lilith was made for her; to stand by her side. Lilith is her reason for living, as Luz is her reason for sacrificing; if she hadn’t had anyone to live for, the curse would have won a long time. But there was Lilith to consider; she had to remain in control as Eda to protect her sister. Lilith is her family; her sister has loved her, ached for her, tore herself apart to rectify her mistakes; just as Edalyn will in return for her. No one on the Isles can tell Eda otherwise that Lilith isn’t her soul-bound, because she is. My Equal. My reason for living. My family. 

And Edalyn Clawthorne will not hesitate to harm anyone who’d dare take her from her. Not again.

“I ran into a miscalculation,” Lilith finally says, a little raspy, all the while coming forward cautiously -she was always so careful around her sister, as if one wrong, sudden move and Eda will lay a hand on her in anger- to lower herself on the other side of the couch. “As it turns out, we are not the only ones who were interested in the temple. I had to wait until after they left to even get near it.”

A coil wound tight in Eda’s back. “Until after who left?” She rumbled dangerously. Danger, the curse hissed in unison. Protect. 

“The High Council,” Lilith answered coolly, her seemingly stoic demeanor unfazed, and Eda felt the coil wound tighter at the name. “Two of its members were investigating the temple as well.”

Hands clutched tight around her mug, Eda snarls low under her breath; she doesn’t miss the subtle flinch of her sister’s shoulders at the sound. “Who?” Eda growled, eyes narrow and scrutinizing. “Which members were there? And why did you decide it was a bright idea to stick around? Stupid move, Lily. They could have spotted you, and then what, huh? Hate to break it to you, sis, but you’re not the Emperor’s little leader anymore, and you don’t stand a chance against them as you are now.”

Wrong move, she’ll realize.

She could always tell when Lilith was angry; fury seemed to naturally come off of Lilith in red-hot waves. So hot that it was tangible. Her sister makes a hissing sound through her teeth. “I am not weak, Edalyn.” And finally those eyes are on her, and Lilith glares, rage burning through her irises. With it is a look of such raw pain spreading over her face that Eda immediately curses herself for her mistake. “I can handle myself just fine,” her voice was dripping with outrage, hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. “My magic might not be what it was, but I can still hold my own against the High Council.”

Eda exhales heavily, setting her mug down on the low table. Looks like mama’s job is never done. A hand scrubs over her face as she groans. “Look, Lily, I’m not out to hurt you here,” she tries to keep her tone civil, but the snarls curl around her syllables with a potent bite. “You’ll never be weak to me. Never. It took me a long time to learn this lesson, and I know you won’t believe it yet, but you can’t hold your own against the High Council anymore. You’ll drain yourself just casting a protection spell to flee from them.”

“You’re right,” Lilith said flatly, bordering on defiant. “I don’t believe it. The High Council might consist of the most gifted witches on the Isles, but they’re not you, Edalyn.” She shifted in her seat, an almost defensive straightness in her back. “They don’t hold a candle to what you are capable of.” Are; not were, as if Eda will someday hold all her infinite power again. 

“Sure, most of them alone might not be something to brag home about,” Eda muttered, flashing her sister a small, wan smile. “But two? Screams danger to me, especially when I’m useless and you’re...crippled,” she winced; it’s not exactly the nicest way to phrase her sister’s magic has taken a severe dip since splitting the curse with Eda. “All I’m asking, Lily, is you be a little more careful in how you deal with them; your magic’s not what it was, and you must accept it.”

Lilith’s throat bobs in a hard swallow, but she nods once. Her shoulders are visibly tense, back straight, hands fiddling with the ends of her sweater, occasionally tugging on it in frustration. “I will try to keep that in mind.” A sigh. “I admit, I still don’t know my magic’s limitations; no two spells are the same, and the costs of my reserves always vary on how much concentration I place on the spells I cast.” 

“Maybe it’s time we figure that out together, seeing as the Council may be after another portal as we are,” Eda starts out gently, and can see some of the tension leave the skin around her sister’s eyes when she manages to keep her voice level. “Which, by the way, since you’re sitting here -y’know, breathing- I can take a safe guess and say it was neither Larron nor Mira on The Knee. So who did Belos have doing his dirty work?”

“It was Damar and Negil,” Lilith huffed. “I wasn’t in any danger of the two of them spotting me.” She rolled her eyes, shoulders loosening. “They’re...well, a rock has more intelligence in comparison to the two of them.”

Eda snorted, scooping her mug back in hand. “Fine, you know the Council better than I, though I still don’t like that you remained with them there.” She accepted, taking a careful sip of her apple blood. “Was there anything in the temple worth the trip up there?” Did you find a portal? Can Luz return home?

“There was,” Lilith shifted on the couch to fully face her, and those eyes are peering at her in obvious confusion now, nose wrinkled, and Eda kind of wants to pinch her sister’s cheek because of how disgustingly cute it is. “I couldn’t make out what it was they took, but it didn’t appear to be a portal, unless it was pieces to one.”

Eda straightened, hands clutched tight around the mug. “Think Belos is creating his own portal since Luz destroyed the other one?”

“No,” she slumps, setting her sights on the mug and away from Eda’s sharp stare. Her expression twisted, unknowing. “I don’t think Belos is creating a new portal.” And here Lilith hesitates for a moment before speaking. “I think Belos is repairing the portal we all thought Luz tried to destroy.” 

At that, Eda felt her anger rising. Jaw clenching, she growled. “Not possible.” She slams her mug down as she sprung forward from her spot on the couch, pacing the length of her living room. She rakes one set of hooked fingers through her hair as she vehemently shakes her head. Needless to say she was feeling somewhere in the spectrum of furious and frustrated and heart-wrenching fear. “Luz destroyed it. Not a chance it can still be functional enough to be salvaged.” 

“We can’t know that for certain, Edalyn.” Lilith countered, voice pitched careful and even in the midst of her sister’s agitated state. “None of us were there to see what was left of the portal.”

Eda stared at the ground, watching her toes wiggle and dig into the soft material of her rug as she stills. “We also don’t know if it’s the same portal, either.”

“What else could it be, Edalyn?” Lilith replied bitterly. “We have been scouring the Isles for months to find another portal. There isn’t one. ” 

There has to be. There just has to be, right? Eda’s jaw twitched. This whole night was one revelation after another, making Eda’s battered brain swim, thoughts spinning like a carousel out of control. Until, that is, one important one settled in her mind. How will Luz react to this?

“Luz.” Eda whirls on her sister, eyes wide and alarmed. “If she finds out about this, Lily, can you even imagine what she’ll do? My kid’s in pieces because she thought she sacrificed her one way home. What will happen if she learns she failed to keep it out of Belos’ hands?”

“I don’t know.” Lilith says, face pale, and Eda knows immediately that her sister does know what will happen, and Eda doesn’t like the implications behind the palpable fear in her sister’s eyes. “And we don’t know if it’s true. At the moment it’s merely a theory.”

“But you’re fairly certain of it?”

Lilith sighed. “I am,” she confessed. “It makes the most sense. Why else would Belos go to all the trouble he did to get the portal you were lugging around all these years if another existed somewhere?” 

Eda stayed quiet and simply glared at her sister for a long, tense moment. 

“The best course of action right now,” Lilith continued, “would be to find out what Belos is up to, and to confirm if what I believe is an attempt to repair the damaged portal isn’t just me jumping to conclusions without concrete proof.” 

“Alright,” Eda laments. She returns to her spot on the couch, blinking over at her sister because Lilith has shifted over to rest a hand on the crown of her head. “What exactly did Belos want with the portal anyway?”

“Contrary to belief,” Lilith soothes, nails scratching lightly against Eda’s scalp, and the younger Clawthorne hums in pleasure. “I might have led the Emperor’s Coven, but I was not privy to any information he didn’t want me to know. All I did know is that the Day of Unity held great importance to him, and as it's clear to me now, he needed your portal before it is to pass.”

“You really knew nothing of his plans,” Eda insisted, frowning a little -she was not letting her sister soothe her into quiet compliance. She needed to focus. “Nothing at all?”

“No.” Lilith affirmed. “The only one I can say could know is Kikimora.”

“Ugh, never liked that little imp,” Eda shifted away from her sister’s touch, leaning against the couch’s arm with one elbow, her chin caught in her palm, fingers tapping idly at her temple. “What about the High Council?”

Lilith pauses -every one of her lines motionless- and looks at her sister with narrowed eyes. “You -you cannot be serious right now.” She hisses, folding her arms over chest defensively. “You want to, what, walk up to a member of the High Council in your magicless state -as a wanted criminal, no less- and ask them if they know about their Emperor’s plans to restore a portal for who knows what reasons?” 

Eda grins. “You got the gist of it, yeah.”

Lilith threw up her hands. “While we’re at it, let’s just ask them if they’ll kindly give it back so the human the Emperor took it from can go home.” 

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“Absolutely not. ”

“Why not? It’s a sound plan,” Eda quipped with a rakish grin. It’s not, but she likes the rise it gets out of her sister. And the second Lilith’s face contorted into one of indignation a stray thought crosses her mind, and she frowns as she grabs a hold of it. “Wait, wait. Isn’t the Council’s whole spiel to be weapons of mass destruction?” She doesn’t wait for her sister to open her mouth. “So explain to me why dillweed would have them out scouring the Isles for these pieces then? You said it yourself, the two you saw on The Knee are short a couple of brain cells.”

“Assuming they even have that.”

“Not the point.” Eda supplied with a knowing smirk. “Last I remember from Elara’s little meet-ups with her sister, Belos was keeping the High Council scattered to conquer lands that still haven’t succumbed to his rule, but I’ve heard some whispers in the Night Market they’ve been spotted in allied territories more often lately.” She rubs her chin. “What I’d give to see Mira’s face as she plays delivery girl for the Emperor with a little checklist. And a hat. Ha.”

Blinking, Lilith stared at the younger Clawthorne for a second, then tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. “When I was still head of the coven,” she murmured in a quieter tone. “They were indeed still stationed on enemy lines at the Emperor’s command. None of the reports said anywhere they were to be pulled from the field,” she sighs. “But Belos still hasn’t appointed a new head, and it’s possible he’s begun to call them back in now that he could be close to completing the portal’s repairs.”

“Ah, so he’s paranoid then,” Eda purred in cruel satisfaction, adopting a sing-song quality to her voice that she knew irritated her elder sister to no end. “And he’s hiding behind his guard dogs.” 

“Loyalty doesn’t make someone a dog, Edalyn.” Lilith countered, shooting Eda with a murderous look. “They believe in his cause and have no intentions of disobeying his orders. It makes sense why he’d send them to locate the pieces.”

“Ha! Loyal. You’re a riot, Lily,” the younger Clawthorne grumbled irritably, grinding her teeth. She absently began worrying one of the holes in the well-worn couch cushion with her freehand. “There’s a word for what they are and it’s far from loyal, sister dear.”

Folding her arms over her chest, Lilith favored her sister with an incredulous snort. “Then what would you call it?” She asked, sharp and cold and utterly implacable. The least bit believing in the accusations against the Emperor. 

With that in mind, Eda went with the best example she could offer her sister. “Mira.”

Blinking, Lilith quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Come on, Lily, you’re smart,” Eda’s voice was laced with watered down sarcasm as she peered out of the corner of her eye at her sister. “You might know the other members of the High Council, but I know Mira. The goblin worships the ground her sister walks on; if it doesn’t fall from Elara’s mouth, Mira never hears a single word anyone says. I mean, really, her own mother had to get Elara to dish out her punishments growing up. And that woman is terrifying.”

Lilith scoffs. “I’m still not following what that has to do with anything.”

Twisting her head, Eda flashed Lilith a pleasant smile -one with lots of teeth. “Mira is only loyal to Elara. We’re talking about Mira here; the same Mira who almost wiped out Bonesborough when we were kids because Elara fell and scraped her knee. A scrape, Lily. And that little murder machine was out for blood.” With hooded eyes, Eda stared expectantly at her sister. “Why in the seven hells would she suddenly, as you say, loyally follow someone who isn’t her sister? Who lowers her eyes for someone who isn’t her sister? Who listens without question to a voice that isn’t her sister’s?” 

“Mira listened to you, ” Lilith muttered, disbelief coating her words. “And she became a member of her own freewill. Wanted to prove to the families she didn’t need their name to rise to the top, or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Eda snapped. “Mira’s mind works like the rest of the Isles; she values power over all else. She vaguely heard what I said because I was the only one who could pummel her into the ground.” She smiles hesitantly, ignoring the look her sister shot at her. “Ha. Look at that, wipe out Belos, and Mira will become the Isles most powerful witch. Scary thought, isn’t it?” I can hear the little demon’s maniacal laugh now.

“Edalyn,” Lilith tried, desperately searching for the right words to say.

Eda’s jaw clenched tight; she’s not in the mood for her sister’s promises of her returned magic. It’s a bit of a blessing, really -if not for the silence that has the tendency to drive her up the wall, that is- to not have her magic. She’s nothing. All expectations are off her shoulders. Any conceived notions she’ll overthrow Belos have ceased to be. She’s free. Now Eda only wants to break the curse for her sister. Return Lilith’s magic to her. 

“Just answer me this, Lily,” Eda cuts her sister off, her voice seething. “Mira became a member of the High Council all on her own, yes, but what if it came at a cost; a cost she never would have paid if she’d known from the start? What does Mira value more than power?” She paused, letting the words hang in the air. “While you’re thinkin’ on it, answer me this, if Belos wanted to keep his collection of soldiers under his thumb, how would he do it?”

This time, Lilith caught on to what Eda was leaning towards. “Are you...are you trying to make me believe that Belos is holding something over the High Council that keeps them loyal to him?” 

“Yes.” Simple; plain as day. “Mira ‘I will stab you, plebeian’ Rime doesn’t give two shits about the Emperor, but you know who she does care about? Elara.” She pointed out, snorting in disgust. “If you ask me, the bastard is using Elara as some sort of leverage to bend Mira to his will.” I just don’t know how he’s doing it.

The theory is a solid one, and the implications hit Lilith like a slap in the face; from the corner of her eye, Eda caught the way her eyes widened, her jaw twitching as her teeth grind together, and how tightly wound her body coiled itself inwards. For several seconds Lilith was at a loss for words, as if searching for some sound reason to grasp onto; something to contradict her sister. A myriad of emotions raced across her face -the continuous anguish of betrayal of a man she had been loyal to since she was a child, the disbelief her sister was accusing the Emperor of stooping so low, the horror that her sister could be right and Elara is some kind of bargaining chip to keep the illusionist in line. Because who the hell in their right mind thinks they can control Mira Rime without Elara’s life on the line? 

Lilith is slow in answering, the seconds dragging on like years. “But it’s only an assumption,” her voice quivers as she slowly says it, still in disbelief. “Right? Elara’s happy, Edalyn. Safe. She has a stable career doing what she’s always wanted. She’s financially secure. She... no.”

Happy. The word shatters Eda like a rock thrown through a window. She forgets -damnit, she sometimes forgets Lilith left them for a long time. She wasn’t here when a fear that haunts Eda to this day swam in Mira’s eyes when she busted Eda’s door down with a dying Elara in her arms. She wasn’t here when all the warmth and the softness and the love in Elara was snuffed out by the loss of a child she called hers. She left them behind, but Eda stayed; she tried her damnedest to take Lilith’s role and fill the emptiness her sister created in Elara -because that’s what friends do; they don’t run away like cowards because one might possibly find out about the other’s dirty little secret- she tried so hard to fill the void left with the loss of Elara’s little girl. I tried, but it was you she needed, Lily. 

Lilith wasn’t here; she doesn’t know what they’ve been through. It isn’t in Eda’s right to tell her, either; she has to bite her tongue anytime the words spiral up her throat. Which is annoying, because it’s hypocritical of her to even think about lashing out at her sister about the secret she shared with Luz when she’s keeping her own lips sealed. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. And if Lilith will leave her head for two seconds and stop wallowing in her own woes and ask, Elara will tell her everything. Because she’s all sorts of weak for her idiot of a sister. It’d be cute, if it weren’t so sad.

“You can’t build a relationship on lies, Eda. All she will ever have to do is ask me. Anything she ever wants to know. Anything at all.” Lilith has to ask; doesn’t mean Elara won’t make certain her sister is ready for the answer first. 

So Eda stayed silent, fiddling with the hole she was steadily widening, feeling like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Lilith, it seemed, couldn’t take it anymore. This was too much for her to handle so soon after everything else that’s happened tonight. Too much to come to terms with, assuming she hasn’t shut the whole theory down as one of her sister’s ideologies that the Emperor is a dingus and a corrupted bastard. Which he is, in case anyone thought otherwise. 

Lilith straightens up abruptly and then lurches to her feet, and Eda swallows a sigh and wordlessly curses her elder sister’s little habit of brushing off the chance for physical comfort Eda is willing to give her. “It can’t be.” Her voice is strained and measured, and she’s so tightly wound, eyes flicking between Eda and the staircase, as if she wants to bolt up the stairs. “Belos could not have the means to control someone like that. Elara is free to go wherever she pleases. How would- it just isn’t possible, Edalyn.” 

“I know it sounds far fetched,” Eda says softly, just an exhalation. “It’s just like I said: I know Mira. She does not bow to anyone -I know you know this. There is a reason she obeys the Emperor, and it is not out of loyalty to Belos, to his cause.”

It’s Lilith’s turn to pace. A hand crept up occasionally before Lilith shoots it down, as if she’s fighting back a broken habit that’s rearing its head. “And what about Elara? Has she given you any reason to believe this is a fact?”

“She hasn’t.” Eda sighed. “It’s just.” She stopped herself. Takes a second to look back through her memories, to the night after Mira’s initiation into the High Council; a time of celebration, she thought, because Mira had accomplished what she set out to do -even if Eda isn’t a fan of Belos’ bullshit of a system, she wasn’t so much of an ass not to congratulate what Mira worked so hard to achieve. Except, Mira wasn’t proud; she hid it well behind her expressionless face, but Eda couldn’t miss the unmistakable regret brewing behind her eyes. Couldn’t miss how haunted Elara looked.

“It’s just a feeling.” It makes her skin crawl. 

“So you could be wrong.” Her sister sounded so hopeful -the fire in Eda’s chest roars, anger licking hot, at the prospect it could be more for the Emperor’s sake than Elara’s.

“Sure, Lily, I could be wrong.” There’s a pause, and Eda just sounds so very beastly. “Not like I’d get a confirmation from her anyway. It’s her life on the line; assuming it’s true, it’s a dangerous piece of information that could fall into the wrong hands. She can’t just go blabbing it to just anyone. Not even me.”  

It hurts. Because Elara didn’t trust her. But she understands why. I would’ve gone off and done what everyone was always whispering when they saw me. I would’ve taken Belos down; uprooted his entire empire because he hurt someone I care about. And there’s a reason Mira hasn’t done the same. Eda just needed to find out what it is. And then I’ll gladly ruin him. Magic or no magic. 

“If you were right and something like that is the reason Mira is loyal to the Emperor,” Lilith closes her eyes, face ashen. “There’s not a chance Elara wouldn’t have told you.” 

“Lily-” she starts, before Lilith cuts her off.

“No. She would have told you. You, Edalyn. She would not have kept this from you. She wouldn’t. ”

“Ha.” Eda snorts. “I want to believe that, sis. I really do. But it’s just not true.” 

Lilith doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move -except the fingers of her hand pressing down on the outside meat of her leg, nails slowly sinking in. She’s lost in her head, it seemed; rewinding the conversation to unravel where she could prove Eda’s wrong about everything. Find some substantial piece of evidence. 

It sends alarm bells ringing in Eda’s head; the beast shifts restlessly, chittering worriedly to reach out and stop her sister. “Lily?” She calls. Because she’s scared. Needs her sister to say something before she snaps under the fear. 

Lilith blinks at the sound of her voice. The hand is stalled, drawn up to rake through the drying locks of raven hair, and Eda breathes a sigh of relief, before it’s lost again at the next set of words. “She has to.” Lilith says, tone grim. “She loves you, Edalyn.” She almost looks ashamed at the admission.

Eda’s face pinches in confusion -because, yes, Elara loves her, and Eda kind of likes the tiny healer, so what does that have to do with- oh. 

Lilith’s looking at her like- no.

Oh no.

Eda blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. Feels her jaw drop to her lap. Oh no.

It takes way too long for Eda’s brain to connect the dots; to be fair, she had been working under the assumption that Lilith had the same gooey feelings for Elara as Elara does for her and was just too much of a scaredy cat to tell the healer (classic move of the one Lilith Clawthorne). And while Eda might’ve gotten the first half right -sorry, but you don’t look at your friend the way Lilith looks at Elara- she was so far off in the second half, but when she does get it, she does so with gusto. Oh. Oh, Lily. My sweet, sweet Lily. I could hit you right now. 

“No, you-” idiot. Too many words were trying to barge out of her mouth all at once, and Eda has to steel herself, sifting through all the reasons and possibilities as to why Lilith’s mind has rationalized this line of thought. “Oh, Lily,” she scrubs a hand over her face. “My precious, precious Lily. My sweet baby sister-”

“-what? I’m older than you-”

Swiftly ignored. “-you have the wrong Clawthorne.” Eda sighed. “I’m a perfect ten; she’s a perfect ten, I know. We’re practically made for each other.” She’s heard it all before. “But -and surprise- Elara’s what we call the dominant partner; she flutters her eyes and her partners submit to her every whim. I, Edalyn Clawthorne, do not submit to anyone. They submit to me.” 

“No, it is you,” Lilith’s whispering and sad. There’s something in her eyes, dark and faraway, something tugging at Eda’s attention. She returns to the couch, perching close to clutch Eda’s hands in hers. “You’re the sun, Edalyn, everything your light touches warms. You’re everything I will never be.” Her grip briefly tightens. “I’m wrong. I can’t love like you do. I just don’t have it in me, Edalyn.”

Eda opened her mouth to refute, but Lilith silenced her with a sharp look. “I used -I used to think as long as I kept you safe and well that you’d be happy, that as long as I kept our parents harsh criticisms from reaching your ears you’d become the person you wanted to be, because that’s all I wanted for you. I thought that taking as much of your pain as I could was an adequate price for your happiness, if that is what it took.”

Lilith stared firmly at their hands, to concentrate, to get her words right. “And you were, Edalyn. You weren’t molded into a Clawthorne, but a person all of your own making. You bloomed -merely a child; yet so gifted.” She closes her eyes, exhaling. “And I wasn’t. I- everything became too much for me to handle. I was spiraling out of control under the crushing pressure of our parents expectations. As the eldest, the embarrassment, I wasn’t worthy of the Clawthorne name. I had to be better. I had to win.”

A shaky breath; a brief squeeze of their conjoined hands. “And then I went and ruined everything; I caved under the pressure. Panicked. There was only one spot available for the Emperor’s Coven; our parents bore down on me unlike anything else they’ve done before -said if I lost to you, I would be no Clawthorne worth her merit, that I’d tarnish the family name. A nothing. I couldn’t fail them, Edalyn. I couldn’t.”

Inhaling again, she chuckled harshly. “I cursed you. My little sister. My blood. All I have ever wanted was to protect you from the world, but I couldn’t even protect you from me.” She moves to separate their hands, but Eda laces their fingers together, tears stinging behind her eyes at the well of sympathy swelling in her chest. “And I realized a little too late what I had done, what I lost. And then I ran, searching for a cure for the curse; thought that you were better off without me in your life-”

“Don’t say that,” Eda interrupted. Suddenly, she can’t pull air into her lungs. “You don’t know what that did to me. I would have been angry, yes, but I never wouldn’t want you in my life, Lily.”

“You can’t mean that,” Lilith interjected. “I was so desperate to protect you that I -I tried to take away your power to choose. Once more, I took all the steps that would hurt you. I almost lost you, Edalyn. I have no right to call myself your sister.”

“What are you saying?” Eda whispers past dry lips. Her throat hurts, her chest hurts, and the curse whines in the shared ache of her pain. 

“All I know how to do is hurt the people I love.” Lilith whispers. “I am the reason Elara’s eyes are permanently spelled. I cursed you. I am the reason you were almost petrified. I almost killed the human girl you’ve claimed as your child. All me, Edalyn.” Her hands slip out of Eda’s. “You’re the sun -you don’t hurt the ones you love; you draw them closer. And I don’t know what to do anymore, but if I can do one thing right it’s that I want to make you happy.”

“I am happy. You make me happy, Lily.” Eda replied softly, lips curving into a forlorn hope of a smile. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life living a life of pain together with you, than live a life of emptiness without you ever again. I can’t do it, Lily. I won’t."

“Edalyn-”

“Nope, it’s my turn,” then she reached out to lightly brush her fingers against her sister’s cheek. She half-expected Lilith to shy away from the touch, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she felt a cold hand holding hers in place, pressing Eda’s palm firmly against her skin. “I love you, Lily. You’re my sister, and sometimes I’ll be angry with the choices you make; will continue to make -let’s face it, Lily, you’re a bit of an idiot. But hate you? How could I hate you? It goes against my very existence. Just can’t. Not possible. Zip. Nada.”

“You don’t know that,” Lilith whispers, and Eda’s heart twists. “What if I had taken Luz’s life? I was so close to it that day. Could you really say you wouldn’t hate me then?”

Eda lowers her hand from her sister’s face and closes her eyes, a memory dredges up from the recesses of her mind. 

The air in the room was heavy. Quiet. Still. 

And so very wrong. 

Their voices used to keep out the quiet of the night on sleepless nights, the room warmed by the mirth in their tones and the laughs that echoed off the walls. Tonight, as it’s been for the last three nights, Eda can only hear the distant sound of crickets and the calls of the wildlife and the occasional squawks from Hooty. It’s quiet, and lonely, and it feels almost like it’s only her and the smaller woman beside her in this world right now. Them and their scarred memories. Their tattered hearts. 

“Your mom cornered me this morning. She threatened me with a spatula. A spatula. Me. The most powerful witch on the Isles.”

“Mmhm.”

“Okay, I admit, I ran. The woman’s scary as hell.”

“Mmhm.”

The body next to her is only a few inches away; with the tension that hung in the air, the few inches may as well have been a chasm. She felt the shifting of weight next to her and some knotted, unwanted thing took up residence in her stomach. Their back is to her, the tremor that shudders through the rise and fall of a shoulder every now and then the only indication the body next to her is still in the waking world. 

“I don’t see it being that much longer before she knocks down my door. She knows something’s off with you.”

“Mmhm.”

“Maybe she’s what you need right now. I...I haven’t been much help, have I?”

“There isn’t anything you can do, my love,” Elara whispers, soft enough that the night doesn’t shatter. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

“But I want to. How can I help you?” Eda asks as Elara rolls over to face her. “How can I make this easier for you?” A head is tucked under Eda’s chin, a nose burrowed into the scent of her so that she might be able to wash away the pain shredding Elara’s heart into pieces. “What do I do? Because I’ll do it.”

The closeness stirs something. Something warming and soothing that settles as a heat in Eda’s chest, alongside a speckle of guilt that feels like ice water flooding her veins -she made Elara stay. The continuous pain she is in is because Eda couldn’t let her trade her life for a child who was already too late to save. It was a move made out of fear and selfishness -too scared to ever imagine a life where she’s not only lost her sister, but her friend as well. 

But she’s with her. Elara’s only half-awake, and she looks like she might fall asleep in the middle of any words she says, but she stays. Breathing. Heart thrumming with life, even if with each beat it hurts so much she can’t breathe. Eda will let her roll into her, and she’ll wrap herself around her friend and keep her safe from the one moment in time she wishes she could change. She’ll murmur soft assurances against her temple and stay awake until the sun tips over the horizon. And then she’ll shadow her until the night returns them here. 

And then Elara utters the three most heart wrenching, soul shattering words Eda’s ever heard: “I don’t know.” Because a healer doesn’t know how to let Eda help her. 

“How about talking?” Eda’s briefly skimmed the medical books she’s collected for Elara over the years- they’re not her type of light reading, but the pleased smile it earns her when she presents them to her friend is worth the hassle of hunting them down. Eda’s read enough to know they’re the backbone of Elara’s practice, that a fundamental element is talking through your problems. “I can do that, y’know. I can listen.”

“Edalyn, no.” Elara shuffles closer against her, a leg wedging in between Eda’s to maneuver their bodies as close as physically possible. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I just need some time.”

It’s a bitch move -it’s a little selfish, too- but she’s given Elara three days. The silence can’t stay any longer. “I get where she was coming from,” Eda whispers, softer than soft, and combs her fingers through Elara’s hair when the smaller woman tenses against her. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I just…” A pause. “I know her best after you. Not too proud to admit I know what was going through her mind when she found you like that.” With a fourteen-year-old Blight child standing over Elara’s motionless body, but she won’t mention it -Eda’s not even ready to cope with the knowledge that three days ago she nearly lost Elara. 

“What went through her head matters little to me, Edalyn.” Eda is still thrown by the dullness in Elara’s voice. How alike she sounds to her twin. “No reason on this entire Isles will ever be concrete enough that my life is worth the loss of hers. She was a child. An innocent child.” 

The worst part is how even Elara sounds. It’s a recitation of facts. And she remembers when Elara regained consciousness, remembers the emptiness and the cold rage directed at the one person Eda never thought it possible for Elara to scorn. She remembers Elara’s house, and how much it unsettled her to see a vital part of Elara die as she mourned for the child who tried to take her life. 

Eda grits her teeth; shoves it all down. “I’m not justifying her actions here. She made a rash decision with severe consequences.” She tries, keeping her voice low as to not spook Elara away when this is the most she’s spoken in days. “But you mean more to me than Amilie did. You mean more to Mira than anyone else. She reacted-”

“She meant everything to ME!” Elara interjected, tone tortured and strangled. “I can’t care right now what I mean to you when she was everything to me. I didn’t…” She chokes. “There was no right to take her from this world, Eda. It doesn’t matter to me what she was forced to do; it doesn't matter if my blood was on her hands. She wanted to be mine and I wanted to be hers. A family.”

Eda lets the healer sob into her neck, choked cries that tug on her heartstrings. She hasn’t cried since the day she mourned the loss of Amilie, when she was too vulnerable of mind to lock her emotions away. Eda cradles her tightly against her, murmurs her soft assurances and keeps her safe. Keeps her here. She almost…

Eda almost regrets stopping Elara that day, because she doesn’t know how her friend is going to recover from this. Doesn’t know if she’s enough to help her. But she’ll have to be.

So Eda waits for her to quiet. Taking Elara’s hand in hers, she lifts it up against her cheek, taking in the warmth and the feel of Elara against her. “Do you hate her?” She presses a kiss into the palm of the hand, uttering her words against the skin. “Mira, that is.” Do you hate me? Selfishly, she can’t ask. 

The body curled against her flinches at the name. “No.” Elara murmured, though the word was heavily coated in anguish. “I’ve never wanted to hate someone so much before. Never had such ill intentions. Every inch of me wants to curse her very existence.” 

“Then why don’t you?” Eda asks softly. 

Elara shifted out from under Eda’s chin, propping her head up with the palm of her hand. She sets her eyes on Eda, and an ache forms in the younger Clawthorne at how utterly void of life those eyes are. A replica of Mira stared back at her, and Eda would give anything for the light to return to her. For this copy of Mira to be casted into the shadows and Elara returned. 

“Because she’s my sister,” Elara says simply, as if it explained everything. “She’s my other-half. We are one in the same, and I can’t imagine walking in this lifetime without her.” She closes her eyes, a self-deprecating smile tugging on her lips. “Selfish of me, isn’t it? To want to trade my life for Amilie, when Mira can’t live without me, either.”

Eda shook her head, pressing another soft kiss to the palm she’s kept close to her. “A parent shouldn’t outlive their kid,” her voice is soft but intent. “It wasn’t selfish of you. You were just reacting as a parent would.”

Elara hummed. “Amilie plays a huge role in my heart, enough so that I don’t want to be without her,” there’s the shadow of exhaustion in the lines of her face, a trace of guilt swimming in her eyes. “But the longer I’m here and she’s gone, the more I realize she wasn’t enough for me to permanently sever my connection to Mira. And if that’s not selfish; if that’s not wrong, I don’t know what is.”

“She took your kid, darling.” Eda said, anger edging into her voice in her confusion.

“I know.” Elara’s voice is small and weak. “I can’t bring myself to forgive her, and I don’t think I ever will. But I wasn’t made to hate her. Wasn’t really made to hate anyone.”

Eda mulls it over. “Want me to do it for you?”

Elara chokes on a sob.

And then Eda’s arms are around her, drawing her back into her warmth as a quaking whimper falls from her lips against her volition. Eda tucks that head of green hair under her chin, tightening her hold and making soft ssh noises in her ear. Soft little comforts that keep her here. 

“I’m here. I’ve got you now,” Eda says, and she knows it’s all that’s keeping Elara here. She’s adrift and alone in the world right now, because Mira isn’t allowed to exist in her space -the twins have never been separated like this before; not in the physical sense, but the emotional. Because Lilith has simply vanished from their lives, living her life’s dream with the Emperor’s Coven. Because…

Elara lost her child. A little Blight girl who wormed her way into the healer’s heart. A little Blight girl she was in the process of making a Rime. Elara was going to become a mom, and Eda wants to give her ten of them if it meant she’d smile again. Anything she wants so long as she stays here.

“You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here every step of the way.” Eda hums a noise low in her chest. “And when you’re ready, and if you want to, I’ll give you as many little gremlins as you want. Little Rimes and Clawthornes, with their pretty gold eyes and red hair.”

“Oh, my love,” Elara laughs, a wet like sound that’s harsh in Eda’s ears. “They won’t have red hair.”

“Sure they will,” Eda quips. “The Clawthorne genetics are much stronger than whatever blood sacrifice the Blights performed to keep the green hair and gold eyes. They will have my dangerously good looks.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Elara muses softly against the side of her throat. Shivering, Eda tucks her a little closer and huffs when she laughs. It’s not as wet as the one before. “Am I to assume they’ll have your penchant for trouble as well?”

“Course. But, uh, you’re trouble too, y’know.” She rumbled, not happy, and Elara nips at the side of her throat which makes her squeak. “Hey! Teeth off the merchandise!” 

"Sorry." But she never is; not that Eda would have her any other way.

Blinking back the memory, Eda grins sadly at her sister. “I wasn’t made to hate you, Lily. You’re my sister, and if I’d lost Luz that day, I may very well never be able to bring myself to forgive you, but I still wouldn’t hate you.” Eda softens. “Because I know in my heart if you truly felt like you had a choice you never would have done what you did.” I forgive you. 

All Lilith could do was stare. Eda feels like she’s drowning in the disbelief in her sister’s eyes, but at least she’s listening; at the best, it’s all Eda can hope for. “The Isles can be a cruel place, yeah? It crushes those it sees as weak under its expectations. It made you feel weak and useless because you weren’t me. But you never needed to be me, Lily, now did you?” Lilith looked like she wanted to say something to that, and Eda’s eyebrow hiked, but in the end Lilith’s mouth clicked shut. Eda continued on. “You’re far from weak -you’re powerful, sister. You were the head of the Emperor’s Coven, the most sought after coven on the Isles, and you were its leader. You could go toe-to-toe with the High Council, and in this world that means something. I mean, besides me, who else on the Isles has that kind of power? No one.”

“Our parents.” Eda said with a sneer, a beastly snarl on the edge of it. “Their words mean nothing. They couldn’t see you and your worth if it was staring them in the face, and that’s their own fault. Couldn’t see you’re talented, quick witted, and so damn brilliant. You accomplish whatever you put your mind to. I was always envious that you had a goal you were striving for, while I was off wasting my talent. You had your future planned, and I didn’t even know what I wanted for lunch that afternoon. All I knew was I wanted to spend my life by your side.” Eda felt a bubble of shame burst forth; she wasn’t that much different as a child -didn’t realize any of this until they were older. “As your sister, I should have seen how much you were hurting. I should have helped you, Lily.” I can’t forgive myself.

“This wasn’t of your doing, Edalyn.” Lilith clasp Eda’s cheeks to wipe the tears she didn’t realize were spilling from her eyes with her thumbs. “I was the eldest, Edalyn, and as the eldest, it was never your responsibility to lift me up when I fell. It was mine. And I was too weak to do so.”

“Stop that,” Eda hiccups. Titan, it’s why she hates crying. Makes her unsure, and everything is unsteady. “You don’t have to keep shouldering the blame by yourself. I’m here. I make mistakes, too; it’s why you can hurt me all you want, because I will still be here to love you. I’m not going anywhere, Lily.” 

As expected, Lilith takes her time to process. Eda watches her sister, waiting for her eyes to become less blurry. The parted lips, the soft, airy sigh, the downturned brows. How for a moment Lilith closes her eyes and swallows hard, like she’s desperately trying to hold back tears. She still has Eda’s cheeks in her hands, as if they’re her anchor amongst the storm of her emotions. 

When she does speak, Lilith’s words are that of a well-rehearsed speech. There’s no pause, no stutter. It’s as if she’s mentally prepared herself for this, rehearsing this conversation with herself time and time again. “I can’t make you happy, Edalyn. And maybe right now you think you are happy with me here, but you won’t stay that way. We know I will fail at some point.” And less sure, more pleading, Lilith very timidly breathes out. “Elara, on the other hand, she has never been the source of your pain; has never abandoned you. She loves you -I know this, because I have seen the way she looks at you. How you look at her. I have taken so much from you as it is, sister, I will not take this as well.”

She can’t see it. And it aches, deep inside, because however Elara looks at Eda is nothing compared to how she looks at Lilith, her speck of color in a world shaded in grays. “She loves me as I love her, Lily, as a friend." Eda reaches up and grips her sister’s hands. “She is in love with you. Why can’t you see that? She has been waiting for you for so long. So long, Lily. Patiently waiting for her moron to come home.”

It’s pointless, as Lilith isn’t listening to her, either. A blank look. A wall has risen. Lilith’s mind is still hardwired to the command that Eda’s happiness must come first, and she’s drilled into her head that Elara is her source of happiness. Will let herself be second to Eda once again. Eda hurts for her sister; doesn’t know how to make her see the truth -if she even can.

“You don’t have to worry about my feelings.” Lilith smiled, but it seemed a hollow gesture. She lowers her hands from her sister’s face. “It’s you, Edalyn. It will always be you, because it can’t ever be me. All I can offer Elara is a tarnished reputation.”

“What do you mean?” Eda asked carefully.

Lilith stared at her for a long, disconcerting moment. “I’m not the Isles most favored witch, sister,” she finally breathes. “I’m, as you say, a bitch.” And, really, it’s not fair her sister decides now to swear in front of her when her heart is breaking for Lilith. Really not fair. “And as highly as you believe in my magical abilities, what you’re capable of still vastly overshadows what I’m capable of, and as a healer, Elara meets you as an equal. I don’t.” She closes her eyes. “No matter how you look at it, you’re the better choice and I’m wrong.”

“Are you trying to tell me the only reason you won’t make a Clawthorne out of her is because you’re afraid of what others will say about your union?” Eda asked with disbelief. “I’ll tell you right now, she won’t care. Shortstack’s been stirring up trouble from the moment she turned down the offer to join the Emperor’s Coven.” She sniffled. “Damned proudest moment of my life, really.” 

Her sister ignores her last comment. “Tradition would not allow me to make her a Clawthorne, Edalyn.” Lilith spat. “And you know this.”

Eda waved her off. “Eh, fuck tradition.” 

“Fu- what? Edalyn. Langu-”

“-oh, now we care about my language. Back at you, sister. Who taught you such a naughty word?” 

Lilith rubbed at her forehead, the slight tension between her brows an indication a headache was in the midst of forming. “Why are we even discussing this? It’s not me she’ll be bound to a union with. I won’t ruin her reputation. Others will not speak ill of her. End of discussion.”

Eda raised her eyebrows, looking unamused. “You really think she cares about her reputation? What others say about her?”

“Of course, Edalyn. Everyone does.” Lilith scoffed. 

Eda falls silent. All she can hear is the sound of her own breathing, harsh and rough, echoing in the house. She forgets the expectations placed on -what the Isles refer to as- weaker witches aren’t in the same bracket as the expectations bearing down on witches like herself. Like Elara and Mira. Where those like Lilith are expected to reach the level of someone of Eda’s caliber -or merely grovel at their feet as Belos has accomplished- someone on Eda’s level, or as close to it, was expected to go above and beyond. They’re to shatter the norm. Shake the foundations of their world. Discover new magical abilities. Accomplish the impossible. 

Miracle worker, they whisper. That’s what they refer to Elara as.

Now, Elara Rime is a sight to behold in her element -Eda won’t deny it. The Isles’ proclaimed prodigy healer handles all of her patients with the same amount of decorum, patience and soft smiles; never wavering under the snotty nosed brat kids wailing over a little scrape on their knee, to the adults Eda wants to slug in the face for demanding Elara treat them when she has a staff perfectly capable of helping them. A staff that have all been under her tutelage at that. But why be seen by them when Elara Rime herself is present at her clinics? The prodigy. 

Miracle worker, they whisper. 

Eda exhaled a frustrated breath at the words. Burrowing further into the couch, Eda propped her elbow back on the armrest and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, her eyes slipping closed as the memories of loitering in Elara’s clinic’s waiting rooms filtered through her mind, of the cacophony of voices that had a tick forming in her jaw, even now, at every word that’s uttered.  

“No thanks, I want her to see my son. Only she’ll know what’s wrong with him.”

“She should fix my leg. It’d be simple for her, no?”

“I’m not waiting all day. I demand she sees me now!” 

If Elara is meant to be some miracle worker, why does she bother to hand out lollipops and deal with entitled babies in the bodies of adults? Because they are simple problems with simple solutions, but they be damned if they don’t waste Elara’s selected time to whine to her about their scraped knees. Ridiculous, Eda thought. Elara has trained some of the best healers the Isles  has ever seen; hell, Eda’s been seen by quite a few herself in her years as a fugitive. They might not be on the same caliber as the prodigy healer, but Elara has trained them to stand in her place at her clinics for a reason. They’re gifted healers; they don’t deserve to be treated like second best when she’s present. 

Miracle worker. Faultless. Accomplish the impossible. The words followed her around everywhere she went, like she isn’t even a person to anyone anymore; had she ever been? And like the damn saint she is, Elara powers through it with that too polite smile on her face. Always eager to help. Always lending a hand. Too damn selfless to say no for once in her life. Eda hates it. 

That could’ve been me, Eda scoffs thoughtlessly. The most powerful witch on the Isles, she remembers being whispered about her. We haven’t seen anything like her since the age of the first witches. How many scouts had come for Eda when she was a child? How long was it before her parents saw her as nothing more than a tool? Lilith had done her best to shield Eda from it all, but she wasn’t as dumb as people percieved her. Carefree. Lazy. Lawbreaker. But never stupid. 

And what has it ever got any of them for being born this way? Nothing. 

Eda lost her sister because of a curse she placed on her to win some stupid duel to join a coven Eda only wanted to be a member of because of Lilith. To be with Lilith. Like they promised when they were girls. She lost her home and her friends and the life as she knew it. And she was slowly losing fragments of her magic until it was just gone. Eda doesn’t want it back. I want to stay free.

It destroyed a vital part of Lilith, a piece of her Eda isn’t so certain she can get back anymore. She now carried with her the very curse that ate away at Eda’s magic; that was now swallowing her own. The once powerful Clawthornes have been reduced to such pitiful states. Because power means everything on the Isles. 

It’s taken someone as selfless as Elara and weighed her down with its continuous expectations. As powerful as she is as a healer, Elara isn’t a miracle worker. She can’t revive the dead, no matter how much someone begs her to. She can’t cure a disease or an illness once it’s destroyed the host’s body -they’ll die during the healing process because their bodies can’t handle it, she will say. But they never listen to her, and when their loved one dies like they’d been warned they would, they will call her a fraud. A fake. And it chips away at her, and Eda can’t count how many nights she’s carried Elara to bed after spending hours flipping through journals in search of answers to heal the impossible. 

It’s not her reputation Elara cares about -she’s accomplished so much and has changed the healing arts for the better. It’s not what others think of her that she cares about -if she listened to those who questioned her methods, Elara never would have made a name for herself. It’s the expectations the Isles has placed on her shoulders as its most powerful healer -she has it in her head that she must accomplish the impossible. Defy fate. “I owe it to them, Eda." Owe it to who? Because Eda doesn’t think she owes anyone squat. 

Lilith doesn’t know this; she hasn’t walked in their shoes. People are envious of their power, but if they knew the cost of it they’d sing a different tune soon enough. Sacrifice. Anguish. Loneliness. That is all power has granted any of them. There is no reward for this life. And the families were far more interested in competing against each other, too worried about being better than the other, to realize the damage their so called power has caused. To realize the wonders of learning magic has flown away like ashes in the wind. 

Lilith hasn’t seen it, because Eda gave the Isles a middle finger and refused to comply with this life. Because Elara has made sure no one will ever know just how exhausted she truly is. And maybe it’s just because Eda has spent more time with her in Lilith’s absence, maybe it’s because Eda herself understands this life that power has cursed them with, but she sees it. And it makes her irrationally angry that Lilith is sitting here claiming Elara cares about her reputation and the thoughts of others, when she’d toss it all away to finally be happy. To have a life with Lilith. Her home. 

“Edalyn?”

Eda blinked, head tilting to lock gazes with her sister. She’d realized she drifted into her own thoughts and lost track of the conversation. “Maybe you got it right this once, Lily.” Her voice was soft, a layer of weariness and anguish mixed in. “She might just be better off with me.”

Lilith’s whole posture went rigid, like she was preparing for a blow. “I-”

Eda stands. “But it’s not your choice to make, now is it?” She finished. She needs to get away from her sister for the night, before she says something she can’t take back. She’ll try again another time to get it through her sister’s head that Elara has already made her decision and is fully committed to Lilith, and a headache is in her future at the battle she will face to make Lilith open her eyes to the truth. “See you in the morning, Lily.” And then she’s gone without a glance back at her sister. 

A talk with Elara is in order, she muses. Her friend has stuck to the side lines from the moment she laid eyes on her sister. It’s about time she starts playing for keeps. Especially if Lilith thinks Elara’s in love with Eda instead of her. Mama’s gonna need a lot of the good stuff to get through this.

It really isn't fair. Really, really isn’t fair. 

//

Luz’s sleep was dreamless. Until it no longer was. 

She dreamt of odd things. Flashes of images jumbled together like a badly scratched disc. In one scene she’s in a cave of some sort, an other-worldly voice echoing in her head that a price must be paid. The next scene she’s in a forest, a frantic Eda carrying her away from someone she can’t place a name to as she screams her lungs raw. “Mom, no! No, no, no!” A bond is forged with that other-worldly voice. A price paid. A glyph is burned into her skin. “I’m sorry, mom. It hurts. I can’t.” She can no longer hear a heartbeat. 

And she dreamt of Amity. More stable. More vivid. Stranger. Like she’s viewing an alternate world from her own, another version of her friend. Amity’s smiling and laughing, tending to a familiar garden with Luz at her side, sun highlighting the red in her hair. Her natural hair. Eda’s there as well, leaning in between them, but Luz can’t hear the words she utters; can only see the vibrant color of her red hair, her short red hair; eyes the same shade of gold. She looks younger. Then there’s Elara handing Amity a pair of shears, leaning down to press a kiss against her temple; shockingly, Amity welcomes it as if it were instinctive. There’s an achingly familiar emotion swelling in her chest that’s also foreign as she watches Eda scoop Elara up bridal style and swing her around, their laughter silent in Luz’s ears.

That echoing voice is present here as well, and Luz is begging for it to be silent because she has paid the price with enough pieces of her heart for this moment of bliss. 

It’s wrong. Amity is smiling and laughing and talking, and she’s so beautifully free, but Luz is silent and still beside her, wondering why she can’t hear the sound of her voice. There’s no noise anywhere but that of the echoing voice. So she observes the shape Amity’s mouth forms around the words, and the soft flush on her cheeks, and how the rays of the sun’s light warms the gold of her eyes. It’s wrong. 

She’s lost something important to her. Can feel it. But she can’t seem to remember what it is she’s lost.

A price must be paid. 

The scene vanishes when she blinks, and Luz is greeted with the familiar sight of her bedroom’s ceiling. A dream. It was still quiet and dark, as the sun had not yet risen, and the only source of illumination was the sphere of light floating aimlessly through the room. It was just a dream. 

Dreams. That’s all they ever were. With a lingering yawn, Luz closed her eyes and slowly rolled over onto her side, reaching out for Elara so that she might ground herself in the realm of the living. Her hand touched down on cold, crumpled sheets. There wasn’t even a slight indentation in the mattress as if someone had slept there. 

Luz immediately opened her eyes and lifted her head off the pillow. The other half of the bed was empty. Elara wasn’t there. 

“Elara?” She called in a tired, gurgled voice, confused by the healer’s absence. Did she go in search of Eda? Luz quickly got out of the bed and began to move about the room, heading for the door. “Elara?” She called again. “Mom?”

Only silence answered her. 

Moving quickly, Luz checked Eda’s room. Empty. Were they both awake?

Kitchen. When in doubt, Luz can usually find her mom in the kitchen, sitting at her small island with a cup of floral tea in hand and some sort of candy bar Eda tells her will rot her teeth out, though she’s always eager to split one with her wife anyway. And that’s where Luz heads, trudging down the stairs as she rubs the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. 

And what should be the familiar sight of the Owl House’s living room when she steps down from the last step is instead Elara’s living room, except there’s nothing familiar about the space. There’s nothing here. No books. No shelves. No plants. Just silence. As if the house had been emptied of everything that breathed life into it. All that remains is a brown leather couch in the middle of the living room. And.

Luz blinks. Rubs her eyes. Blinks again. 

A doppelganger of hers stands in front of the couch. 

She’s older, Luz notes, by at least a few years. Taller. Hair styled differently from Luz’s -it’s longer, though Luz can’t say if it’s just the two sections framing her face or not because a red beanie rests atop her head. She’s dressed in a green combat jacket, the sleeves rolled up, a purple and white striped t-shirt underneath, and skin-tight black jeans. At least, Luz muses, the white vans appealed to this Luz as they did her. 

What unsettles Luz the most are her eyes. Those mahogany irises are empty. Dead.  

There was not a speck of life to be found. It left Luz feeling disconcerted; even more so when she heard the familiar rasp of that other-worldly voice sounding in her ear. 

A price must be paid. A price must be paid. A price must be paid. 

“Just ignore it. It’s not your head it’s in.” The other Luz says, her shoulders sagging in a weary, weighted fashion, as if she has heard the voice for far too long a time. “Suppose not yet, that is.”

Luz kind of feels like she’s been knocked backwards, tumbling, tumbling down, feet sliding out from under her. I’m still dreaming. This is all a dream. She’s chalking it up as just the nonsensical thing everyone’s dreams are, because meeting another version of yourself doesn’t happen in real life. Nonsense, that’s all. So she blinks. Kind of hopes the other her will vanish like the other dream had.

She’s still there, unfortunately; still stands in front of the couch. Those familiar mahogany eyes, soulless and hard, stare straight through her, silent and waiting. And Luz has to tear her own eyes away; drifts down and spies something she missed in her first assessment of the other her. A glyph. A glyph marrs the tanned skin of her wrist, and though the emblem is familiar -countless hours tracing… who again? The name is there on the tip of her tongue; she can taste it, but she can’t sound it out. Lost. 

Luz dismisses it, focusing on the glyph. The color isn’t one she recognizes. It’s not the shade of gold of the Emperor’s Coven. It’s not the shade of crimson of the High Council -not sure how she knows that, a voice describes it in her head, and there’s a familiar -also unfamiliar- memory of someone she refers to as her tía showing hers to Luz. Nonetheless, the mark isn’t the same. It looks almost like…

Like it was burned.  

A glyph is burned into her skin. Luz winces. Imaginary pain, yes, but somehow a pain she knows. She can smell the burn of skin in the air. The smolder that seems to exist in the recess of her mind. Of a howling scream. Of a woman still chained, but a key now rests in the lock. 

The other Luz’s lips twist slightly -almost a smile- but they settle as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket, the glyph hidden from view. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time here,” she exhales. “And there’s a lot I need to warn you about before I can leave.”

Luz said nothing for a moment. She wraps her arms protectively around her body, suddenly so unsure. “Who are you? Where are we?” She asked timidly. “Are you me?” Luz clutched her arms tightly. This can’t be real. I’m still dreaming, right?

It’s like she’s psychic. “You’re right,” the other her says, hands moving from her pockets and spreading out to placate. “It is a dream, but it is also real. It’s the only way I can contact you, and it certainly hasn’t been easy to reach you.” And then she mumbles, “Kind of forgot about the sleep elixirs.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better about the situation. “Are you me?” Luz hisses at her from between clenched teeth. 

“Something like that,” the other Luz hedges, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “I am you. A version of you, the better description,” exhale, another shrug. “My name is Lucia Clawthorne,” the other -Lucia- says, grimacing at the sharp inhale from Luz at the utterance of the name. “One you won’t remember when you wake up, but when the time comes you will.”

“Wait, what?” Luz asked, befuddled, while looking up at the other her. “What do you mean I won’t remember? When the time comes for what?” Ignore her. It’s just a dream. 

“Well,” Lucia scratches the back of her neck. “That’s a little complicated to explain. And I don’t have enough time to get into it with you; so the short version of it is that it doesn’t want you to remember any of this until after you find it, lest you attempt to not seek it out. But you will remember.”

Sketchy. Luz’s eyes narrowed. “Find what?”

“The Seer,” Lucia replied matter-of-factly.

Luz regarded her counterpart strangely, and she’s a moment’s thought away from bolting. Because clearly dream her is insane, and Luz’s head is all sorts of messed up enough as it is. She doesn’t need this on top of it. “The Seer?”

“The Seer,” Lucia echoed, nodding. “The name’s a little misleading, I know.” Luz doesn’t know. “The first time I heard it I was under the impression it could see the future.” Okay, that sounds like something Luz would think, she’ll admit. “It doesn’t, by the way. It doesn’t see anything, really.”

Luz blinks. “Then why is it called The Seer if it doesn’t see?”

“The Seer is named so,” Lucia seems hesitant, and then resilient. “Because it reveals to you what you must sacrifice in order to obtain what you want.”

“Say what now?” Luz gapes. Nope. No thanks. She wants out. Wake up, Noceda!

“You might want to sit down for this.” Lucia fell back on the couch behind her, head cocking to the side as she pats the space beside her. “It’s going to get very weird for you very soon.”

“How so?” Luz asked, unmoving. Every inch of her wants to bolt, but her feet are rooted to the floor. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Lucia warns, then she exhales. “Let’s start with something simple, shall we?” She sounds oddly like Elara then, as if she’s in a session with a patient instead of talking to herself. “The Seer. How we find it is different for many of us-”

“Wait,” Luz interrupts. “There are more of us?”

“Oh, like an infinite number of us.” She nods. “As I was saying,” Lucia continues. “Some of us follow a rumor into The Ribs, some of us just stumble upon it by accident, and some of us,” she trails off with a sigh, there’s something in her eyes that flints and glints. “Well, let’s just hope you’re not one of them.” She waves a hand, the one with the glyph burned into her wrist. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter how you find it; I just need you to know that you will. The Seer calls out to us.”

“How did you find it?” Luz asked, because it seems the right thing to do. 

Lucia hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself, and brought a hand to her chest. “I spent years searching for a cure to my mom’s curse-” a sharp inhale “-and my other mom-” Luz is choking at this point “-said the only way was to find the scroll used to curse her in the first place. Except, it no longer existed, as far as we were aware.” She sighed. “And I tried to play by the Isles rules -really, I did- I tried to be patient, but we were running into dead end after dead end after dead end. It seemed to never...well... end.”

Lucia eyed her strangely for a moment. “She’s not mom to you yet, is she?” She tilts her head. “Eda, that is.” Her nose wrinkles like the name sounds wrong to her. “Wow. Haven’t said that in...well, a long time.”

“Um…” Luz blinks. Just blinks. Mom. The syllables rolled off right to her, but the sound was off. This version of her casually calls Eda her mom, and though Luz very much believes Eda is a mother-like figure to her, she never thought she’d address her as such. And who the hell is her other mom?

“No need to answer,” Lucia said, nodding. “Your face says it all.”

Luz paused. Blinked. And shrugged. 

“That’s alright,” Lucia says slowly, voice a little lilting. “The one consistency in us is she always becomes our mom in the end.” 

Luz doesn’t know how to feel about that. What about mami?

So, for now, she ignores it. “You were looking for a cure, right?” Luz anxiously rubbed her temple, trying to get her thoughts in order. “Did you find one?”

Lucia’s hands clenched into fists. “It wasn’t under the best circumstances when I found it,” she’s serious, and severe, and Luz holds her breath. “I’d had enough. Became too impatient. And someone was hurt in the middle of it.” She exhales. “But I found it. Damnit, I found it. But the cure came at a price. A sacrifice, if you will. In order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost.”

Luz blinked. “That sounds like something straight out of an anime.”

"Well, yeah." Her counterpart favored her with a mischievous grin. "Are we all that surprised? Since the Isles our life has been nothing but one giant anime plot."

Luz mulled it over. "Fair point." She agreed. 

A slight smile, “That’s the deal with The Seer. It will grant any request, so long as you are willing to pay the price for it. So long as you are willing to be its host.” 

“Its host?” 

Something in Lucia faltered -or fell- and she clenched her teeth together. “It lives here.” She flatly stated in a dull, defeated tone. A hand presses flat against her chest, rubbing where her heart beats behind her ribcage. “I’m a walking genie, but the only wishes I can grant are mine.” 

“Then-” Luz began, then stopped just as quickly, unsure of how to go on. She lowers herself to the floor, drawing a leg up to rest her chin on her knee. “What price did you have to pay?” 

“Come on, you’re smart, Luz,” Lucia whispered, her voice eerily calm. “What do you think I sacrificed?”

It took less than a fraction of a second for Luz to come up with a conclusion. Mami.

It’s like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She can’t breathe. She’s been punched in the chest. She sacrificed mami. “How could you?” She hisses, the words slipping like smoke between her teeth. “She is our mom! How could you just throw her away like that?!” A little louder, harder, sharper -rage- and Lucia doesn’t react to the hostility bleeding out of Luz. “Was she nothing to you?”

“She’s nothing to me now.” Lucia hissed sharply. “I didn’t have a choice. Understand that.”

“How do you expect me to understand that?!” Luz countered harshly. “She is my mom. The woman who carried us for nine months. You don’t throw that away.”

“You do if your other mom is dying! ” Tortured and strangled, it’s the first speck of emotion Luz’s found in the other version of her, the familiar features twisted in anguish. Shaking -every part of Lucia was shaking. “Like I said, I made mistakes. Grave errors. My other mom paid the price for it by transferring a spell for Amelia; all because she was just trying to help me.” 

Luz blinks, and something in her chest burns. An echo of pain. 

“It was a nasty spell,” Lucia inhaled and exhaled. “One that was made specifically with her abilities in mind. She couldn’t counter it; she was going to die. And mom...Eda...was the only one powerful enough to override my tía’s spell.” 

Those lifeless eyes snap to her. “My- no. Your mami wasn’t in any danger of dying. She was safe." She rumbles, a bestial sound. “But I was going to lose my other mom. So I had no choice but to sacrifice my memories and my love for her to return my mom’s magic so she could save her.” 

“But wasn’t there another choice you could have made?” Luz whimpered, sounding utterly lost. “Did you have to lose mami?”

“I could have not returned mom’s magic, yes,” Lucia said softly, words strained, like she doesn’t like reliving the memories. “And when it told me what I’d have to sacrifice, I thought I’d try a different solution by simply asking it to remove the spell.”

“And?” Luz leaned forward, eyes wide.

Lucia swallows. “It said I’d have to transfer the spell onto someone else. A life for a life.” She chokes, chewing on the words. “So tell me, Luz, what would you have done?”

Luz didn’t answer. She didn’t really need to. The other her knew her answer. She made it, obviously. 

Luz fidgeted. She tries for something else. “Why didn’t you just wish for the scroll then?”

“I-” Lucia faltered. “I’ll be honest; even if I’d been thinking clearly that day, I think I still would have sacrificed mami in order to save my mom. She needed help immediately. There just wasn’t enough time.” 

She let the words sink in before she pondered, “Who’s your other mom?”

“What?” Lucia asked, blinking. “Oh, right, you’re not me. Duh. It’s Elara,” her nose wrinkled the same way it did when she said Eda’s name. “She’s my other mom.” 

“Oh.” She rolls the word around her head for a moment; she understands now how this version of her can so casually refer to them as her mothers when she can’t remember her own birth mom anymore. They’re all she has. Wait. “If you sacrificed the memories of mami, how do you know of her?”

Lucia tilted her head. “The Seer is somehow linked to its other counterparts in other universes, which means its hosts are linked as well.” She taps her temple. “I feel nothing for mami, but I can see the memories of her through the minds of the few Luzs who couldn’t let her go.” 

Luz frowned. “Like a hive mind?”

“Bingo,” the other her replied, shooting her a finger gun. “When you become The Seer’s host, you’ll be linked to me and all the other versions of us who have also become hosts.” She leans forward, elbows pressed down onto her thighs as she staples her hands together. “The reason I’m here is to warn you, because when you become The Seer’s host, life is going to be... difficult.”

“As in?” Luz questioned. 

Lucia levels an odd stare at her. It feels like a weight -heavy, cumbersome, and threatening to buckle. “Look, I’m not here to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do in the future,” she exhales. “But I will stress the importance of restoring our mom’s magic. You must. Lest you want to call out defeat to a war you haven’t even waged yet.”

“I don’t understand. War? ” Luz says, even though she can’t breathe -somehow the words don’t require air, they just fall out of her mouth.

“I don’t have enough time to explain that to you now. When you find The Seer, we’ll talk then,” face neutral, eyes settled, Lucia murmurs. “I just need to warn you that sacrifices will need to be made the further along you go.”

Her head’s spinning; the information lost somewhere she can’t get a grasp on. “What do you mean?” A shiver runs down Luz’s spine -from the crown of her head to the heels of her feet. “I’ll lose more than just mami?”

There’s an anguish on the other’s face that’s all in the eyes and the gradual hunch of her shoulders. “Many of us sacrificed it all because they felt nothing anymore. Many of us have been shattered into pieces because of what we’ve had to sacrifice for the betterment of the Isles.” She closes her eyes, breathes deeply. “I can say I’m one of the lucky ones, though I can’t say it feels like it.”

There’s silence, a disquieting silence.

And then a soft, “What did you have to sacrifice?”

And suddenly -the other her gasps. 

“Her.” Lucia quickly leaped from the couch. She’s shaking right down to the wobble in her knees as she steps closer to Luz, only to wrangle herself in and stumble back a step. Fingers curling and clutching, hitting against her jean clad thighs as a closed fist. “The only chance I have at seeing her again is through the eyes of the other versions of me. The few who got the chance to keep her.” 

Lips curling like she has no control of them, a snarl that only settles after she shakes her head. “A lot has happened in my time. A lot. I lost my friends.” She starts to pace. “The dream -my memory- you saw was what I sacrificed for to achieve. I’ve sacrificed so much. So much. I lost my ability to fall in love. I don’t know how to love anymore. But it was worth it if it meant Amelia lived; I know that with certainty.”

Luz can only stare as the other version of her paces the length of the living room. 

“I sacrificed pieces of my heart so that I could have this little bubble of happiness,” Lucia sneers, the bitter sound on her tongue something like betrayal. “I have my moms, and they’re in love and happy."

"Wait, wait," Luz cuts her off. "Moms. As in, Eda and Elara? They're together?"  Why did that feel-

"Wrong, right?" Lucia finishes the thought with a harsh, grating laugh. "I mean, don't get me wrong, they're disgustingly cute. Mom -well, Eda- she...she melts when my other mom is just mentioned. One little breath of her name and Edalyn Clawthorne is rendered, well, gooey."

"Aww," Luz cooed. 

"It's gross," the other her counters, though a soft smile tugs on the corner of her mouth for a brief moment. She shakes her head. "My moms are happy and they’re in love, but it always felt off. They say they feel a tad bit guilty, but they can’t explain why. Like my other mom was meant to be with someone else.”

"And Amelia." She halts. "Amity to you, I suppose. She is safe and loved and can't ever be used again, and I know she'll find someone new to fall in love with in time."

Luz's brows furrowed at this. "Amity lost the one she was in love with?" Something painful twists in Luz's heart, but she can't pinpoint if it's one of her emotions. Or if it's Lucia's. 

Lucia gapes at her. Just gapes. Blinks. "Wow." She breathes out, astounded, after an uncomfortable amount of seconds have passed between them. She mumbles something low, Luz barely catching the words. "Idiots. Saviors of the world, but we're idiots." And then louder, "It really never fails to shock me when I rediscover how blind we are." 

"Wha-"

Whatever she meant to say was lodged back down her throat as Lucia dropped heavily to the floor in front of Luz. "Everything is as perfect as it can be for me, but it has always felt wrong." She bristles, shaking her head. “I felt like something was missing. Something important, but I’d forgotten what it was I lost. So many of us have.”

Luz leaned in closer and placed a comforting hand on Lucia’s arm. She doesn’t dare to speak yet.

One long whistling breath in. “It’s her. When I catch glimpses of her in the memories of another Luz, I remember. And it hurts.” She exhales, blinking long and hard, before she can look at Luz. “I don’t have it in me to love anymore, but through them I can still love her. And I’d give anything for just one more minute with her. To hear her voice. To feel her.” 

Lilith. 

Everything seizes inside Luz, her bones rattle, her blood sparks. She feels like someone is pressing down on her ribs over, and over, and over again. She can’t breathe. She lost Lilith. 

The soft timbre of her voice swarms in Luz’s head, whispering soft assurances in her ears. Her eyes, glacier blue and slate gray, soften around the edges when they look her way, a world of promises in her irises. Lavender and jasmine fill Luz’s lungs, the scent trying to calm the pressure building in her lungs. Keep it from bleeding out violently into the rest of her. I forgot her. She forgot her. 

It hurts that she hurts. Tears fall unbidden from Luz’s eyes. Fists clenching like it might hold her together. “You…” She hesitates, swiping at the tears on her cheeks, pushing them away so that she can make her out properly. “You sacrificed Lilith, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Something cracks in Luz’s heart. She wanted to ask what made her sacrifice Lilith in the first place; what price needed to be paid with her existence on the Isles erased, but Luz stills her tongue. This version of her reminds her of Lilith in a way -she’s tortured and haunted by her regrets and mistakes. She won’t ever forgive herself for what she’s done, even when she has the love and support of her family. She’s lost. 

Luz remembers the night she realized Lilith was all alone in the world. When she had no one in her corner. She tried so hard to fix her mistakes on her own because she felt like she didn’t deserve anyone’s help. Didn’t deserve a friend. 

“I, Luz Noceda, from this day forward will be your friend. Don’t scoff at me, Lilith Clawthorne. I’m a great friend! Just ask Amity.”

This Luz sacrificed Lilith. She sacrificed mami. And, yes, she’s been scarred by the choices she’s made. And, yes, Eda and Elara looked so happy together. And, yes, Amity - Amelia for her- was so beautiful when set free. But was it really worth losing them? Luz doesn’t know; can’t really judge this version of her when she hasn’t walked in her shoes. Yet.

Only. Luz is protective of Lilith. Or, at least, she thought she was. But if the way Lucia talks of the other versions of her, it sounded like only a few haven’t sacrificed Lilith in the end. 

They threw her away. Like she was nothing. It isn’t really fair to make that assessment when she hasn’t been through what they have, and maybe they had every reason to let go of Lilith. But right now, in the here and now, Luz doesn’t care. She will not forgive those versions of herself. Will not excuse them. 

If she doesn’t remember this dream, she tries her hardest to ingrain into herself that she will not sacrifice Lilith. No matter the outcome. 

The tightening in her chest pulls and pulls and pulls, until it gets stuck in her throat and she has to swallow around it. “Why,” she tries, but Lucia is shaking her head at her. 

“I don’t know.” The other her said, and then, “I can’t remember.”

It’s not enough. I won’t forgive you. 

It’s a long time before Luz can meet the gaze of the other version of herself; even longer before she can bring herself to speak. She feels the words bubbling at the back of her tongue, and she holds them for several heartbeats longer than she thought she would -before she says the first thing on her mind. 

“Do you...Can I…” She can’t help the hesitance, because Lucia is looking at her like she’s defeated. Like she’s given up. “Is it possible for me to give you a memory of Lilith? One that’s all yours so you don’t forget her?”

“You,” she blinks. “You’d do that? You’d let me have a memory of her?”

“Yes.” Because Luz knows she doesn’t want to ever go a day without Lilith in her heart. Doesn’t want to forget the woman who’s been there for her when she couldn’t even be there for herself. I won’t lose her. Not like you did. 

“It can be done, but it comes at a price. It’ll be gone. Lost to you.” Lucia exhaled the words, and they kind of jumble and mix. “I’d pick one that has the least amount of importance to you, and in return I’ll grant you one of mine.”

They’re all important to her. Every moment with Lilith means something to her, even back when they were shooting daggers with their eyes at each other across the table. She doesn’t want to lose a single moment of her life with Lilith, but she will because there’s no Luz without Lilith. Plain and simple. 

The memory she settles on hurts. 

“Okay,” Luz breathes out shakily, quickly -before she has the chance to change her mind. “What do I do?”

A set of hands clasp her cheeks, and a forehead knocks gently against her own. “Just close your eyes and open your mind. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Luz closes her eyes.

It’s their lazy day. The one day of the week no one is allowed out of the house. Someone’s dying? The Isles is burning? Too bad; so sad. Nothing can be done. Them’s the rules in the Clawthorne household. 

The weight of Luz’s head when it settles on Elara’s shoulder is warmly familiar, and the slow rush of her breathing is pleasantly relaxing as they curl up together on the leather couch in the living room. She draws idle lines over Luz’s spine with her fingertips, and presses tiny kisses on her temple when she feels Luz nestle closer in response. A bag of chocolates is shared between the two of them. Their eyes bounce between Eda and Amity while they snack on them, quietly observing Eda and Amity bicker over Hexes Hold’em. It's a typical occurrence; they're just waiting for the fallout. 

"Wha- you can't play that!" Amity snarled; the cards in her hand are slammed down as the set on the table burns to ashes by a play Eda made. "That goes against the rules. You're cheating!"

"Ha!" Eda snorted out a laugh. "There are no rules but your own in Hexes Hold'em, small fry." An arm reached out to hook around the jackpot -it consists mostly of their favorite snack foods, a pouch of snails, and weirdly Elara's perfume bottle- and slid it over to her side of the table. "If you don’t like it, go cry to your mom about it."

Luz felt the low rumble of Elara's hum, the smaller woman subtly shifting in preparation for what's to come. Luz answers the movement with a sigh of her own. And I just got comfortable, she whines. 

Amity simmers. "Wha- of course there are rules." She cried in disbelief, throwing her hands into the air. "You can't just go and make up your own because you were losing!"

"Nope. Don't think so," Eda drawled blithely. 

Finally seething with annoyance, Amity tore her eyes away from Eda and squeezed them shut, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths as she slowly counted to ten. A method Elara has taught her when her emotions are too high. It actually worried Luz a bit that it took longer than usual before Amity felt calm enough to open her eyes. It was about to be a bloodbath, Luz just knew it.  

The calming method was in vain when Amity saw the smug look Eda was wearing -the older woman liked poking fun at Amity whenever she could. But with effort Amity managed to keep her tone civil. "There are rules. They're right here, Eda." She slowly lifts up the box the playing cards came from, and then she twists it so the back faces Eda, the writing in clear view. "You cheated."

Eda isn't fazed. "What'cha gonna do about it, twinkle-toes?" 

Well, Amity does exactly what Eda said she should: cry to her mom. She swivels her head in their direction, watery gold eyes locking on the healer. "Tell her, Elara. Tell her she cheated." 

Luz knows -and by the pout on her face, Eda does too- where this is going, because Elara always sides with Amity. Doesn't ever really say no to the one she calls hers. "She's right, dear," Elara hums, clearly amused. "I'm sorry to say it, but there are rules. And you did cheat." 

Luz caught the gleam shimmering in Eda's eyes before the woman even had the thought to pounce. Quickly, she rolled away from Elara and off the couch, her side landing hard on the floor. The second she touched the ground was when Eda launched herself at the smaller woman, an oof escaping her as Eda's larger frame impacted with her smaller one. 

"You," Eda snarled, though there's no real bite behind her words; fingers digging into her wife's sides and drawing a startled shriek from the healer. "You're meant to be on my side, you damn traitor."

"I'm sorry, my love," Elara breathlessly draws out between fits of laughter. Her hands are coiled around Eda's wrists, attempting to cease her wife's assault. "Maybe," she chuckles. "Maybe you shouldn't fail so terribly you resort to cheating to win against our little one." 

"That's grounds for treason, y'know," Eda growled in Elara's ear, and all the healer can do is laugh and squirm against the fingers on her waist. "I could have you petrified. Find me a wife who doesn't give in to our kids' pouts and their pleas and their cuteness."

"Aw, Eda," Luz whines, popping her head up to rest her chin on the couch's cushion. "But we love this one," she says cheekily. "I say we keep her."

"Course you would, kid. She gives you what you want. Unlike me." And then Eda's nipping playfully at Elara's jawline, and Luz has to roll her eyes at how disgustingly cute they act sometimes. "Just this once, love, side with me. That's all I ask."  

“She’d side with you,” Amity snipped. “If you were in the right, but you’re not. You’re a loser and a cheater.” Her nose is in the air, the tone of her voice snide and mocking. “How does it feel to lose to,” she pauses, tilting her head. “What was it you called me again? Ah, yes, the fresh meat. How does it feel to lose to the fresh meat? The inexperienced? The newbie? Hm?” 

Luz slaps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, as Eda stiffens. She doesn’t move -except the fingers skimming over her wife’s sides, mouth quirking in a smirk whenever Elara twitches with an aftershock-like giggle. “I think we have a bug problem, shortstack,” she drawls, unamused. “I can hear a fly buzzing in my ear. Drastic measures may need to be taken. I suggest we torch the place.”

Elara grins, a retort on her tongue, before Amity cuts in. 

“Maybe you should hang it up. It’s clear to see you’ve lost your touch,” she says in triumph. She leaned forward to draw the jackpot back over to her side of the table, and Eda reacted to the scraping sound it made by twitching. Or perhaps it was the words. “It can’t be helped. I mean, your age IS catching up with you.” 

And that, finally, makes Eda relent her assault on her wife. With a snarl, her attention is snapped from Elara and she’s whirling on Amity. “Oh,” she rumbles in a low growl, eyes slanted. "You wanna go, two-tone?!" 

Luz loses it. She snorted into her own hands, choking on her laugh as she fell back down to the floor. “Eda, no!” She wheezes out. “You know Amity doesn’t like it when you call her that.”

And Amity really doesn’t like it. She’s red in the face. Eyes alight with the intent to murder the elder Clawthorne where she sits. “My hair is ONE color, old woman!” 

“Old?!”

And then it’s a blur of motion. Eda attempts to launch herself across the low table to get her hands on Amity, except Elara has a sudden grip around Eda’s midsection, hauling the taller woman back and preventing her from having the leverage to make the leap. And Amity’s up, one foot on the table to make a dive at Eda herself, when Luz rockets off the ground to lug her over shoulder in one smooth move. 

“Let me go, Luz!” Amity snarls, her fists smacking into the middle of Luz’s back. “She’s dead! Say hello to your new Empress because the OLD-” and she insisted on emphasizing the word there. “-one is so dead!”

“Not if I get to you first, pipsqueak!”

“I’d like to see you try, grandma!”

When it comes to Amity and Eda’s tempers, Elara is a bit of a miracle worker at soothing them down to more amenable levels. It helps that Amity is always eager to please the healer, a life with the Blights a wound they’re still helping to heal over. So she’s the first to loosen her shoulders, hang her head, when Elara uses her gentle -so very gentle- scolding tone about why one shouldn’t insult someone’s age. And Eda follows soon after, melting into that puddle of gooey feelings at the look her wife levels at her. Just a look. And Edalyn Clawthorne, Empress of the Isles, most powerful witch, is done for. 

A few carefully crafted words from the healer, a touch of commentary from Luz, has their anger evaporating in the wind, and Luz suggests the two play another game when they can’t decide who truly won the jackpot. Which is how they wind up in the same situation again a mere ten minutes later. 

“Perish, you has-been!”

“Burn in hell, you devil’s child!”

Luz smacked her forehead on the low table, and a “I have a suggestion,” is breathed into her ear. A subtle shift of her head lets the other know she’s listening. “We take the jackpot, sneak upstairs to my room, and leave them to hash this out on their own.” 

Luz snickers, turning her head to catch the mirth dancing in Elara’s eyes. “Deal.”

Luz opens her eyes with sleepy effort, focusing on the indistinct shapes of objects around her. It was still quite dark, as the sun had not yet risen, but the promise of dawn had colored the sky a frozen, lackluster gray. She dreamt of odd things, though she can’t quite clearly make out the images swimming in the forefront of her mind. A sharp pain prods her in the middle of her forehead if she tries. She felt...

She felt like she lost something. That there was something important she was meant to remember. An ache unfurls under breastbone, blooming hot with the beat of her heart.

“Luz? Sweetie?” 

Slurred, muffled, unfocused, and coated heavily in sleep, like the healer wasn’t quite awake -almost like she was reacting on auto-pilot. A hand blindly crosses the distance between them, fingertips ghosting her chin before skimming up her cheek; feeling the tears spilling down her eyes. “Sweetie?”

Catching the hand on her cheek, Luz rolls to face the healer; only mildly shocked to discover that the healer’s eyes were still closed. It took Luz a minute to realize that Elara was still asleep; that she really was just acting on auto-pilot. Even in sleep she’s a healer. Which hurts.  

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you dream?” Her voice was barely above a hum. Elara let out a soft sigh before muttering a string of unintelligible words -Luz catches something about elixirs and self-reflection; healer nonsense, it seemed- and nudged herself deeper into the pillow, her breathing steady and even. 

Luz wiggles until she’s tucked under the healer’s chin, an arm instinctively wrapping around her and drawing her closer; a soft touch of nails scratching the back of her neck in a soothing motion. “I don’t know,” she breathed softly, tortured. “I can’t remember.”

I won't lose her. 

Chapter Text

There’s no Luz without Lilith. Her friend. Her family.

Luz took deep, gurgling breaths through her tears -she reiterated that thought over, and over, and over again. Carved out by choice and now forgotten to her, the memory she’s given Lucia of Lilith, but Luz felt the absence of it nonetheless.

A thorn prick in her chest.

A dull weariness in her bones.

“Ah, dammit. I’m sorry, Luz, but we’re out of time now,” said Lucia, the her from another universe. The one who now held a piece of Luz’s heart within her own. “You’re beginning to wake; it’s unwise for us to remain connected when you do.”

“Wait!” Luz cried, suddenly -desperately- clutching onto the sleeve of Lucia’s jacket as the other rose from the floor. “I...you can’t leave yet.”

“I wasn’t kidding about the whole ‘I don’t have a lot of time to warn you’ spiel, y’know,” Lucia tsked, her voice unexpressive, matching her eyes. “S’all pointless, if you ask me. You’re going to forget it.” She dragged a hand down her face. “Spirits, The Seer sent the wrong me to do this.”

No kidding, Luz thought irritably.

An expletive hung on her tongue, but Luz opted to merely screw her up her face instead. “You haven’t warned me of anything,” she accused, her voice cracking through her tears. “You said we’re going to war. There must be more you can tell me. How does it start? Can we prevent it? Can’t I...without…”

...without sacrificing a part of her family.

“The war is the least of your concerns, Luz. It’s a storm that’s been gathering on the horizon years before we arrived, and we can’t change its outcome -many of us have tried and failed.” Lucia shrugged and made a kind of ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. “The Old Bloods are bloodthirsty seekers of power; it’s not the first time they’ll fight and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“Old Bloods?” Luz asked. “You mean the nine families?”

“Who else?” Nostrils flared, words sharp, Lucia’s a coil sprung tight. “War comes naturally as breathing to them; only this time around, they’re willing to work as one to remove Belos from his throne. All so that one of their own can seize control,” a hard exhale, “and they’re going to do whatever it takes to achieve it.”

“Why?” Luz tightened her grip when Lucia tried to shake her off. “Didn’t they willingly hand the power over to him? Why take it back now?”

“Have they ever needed an excuse before?” Lucia said dismissively, wrenching out of Luz’s hold in a way that belied the tone of her voice. “Don’t tell me you know nothing of what the Old Bloods once were?”

Luz isn’t given the option to answer. Or speak. Or much of anything.

“Rulers, Luz,” Lucia sneered, lip curling. “They ruled over the witches of the Isles; the favored whom the Titan blessed with magic beyond our comprehension. They were like,” scoffing, Lucia started to pace the length of the room. “...I don’t know...perhaps gods is the word? And I don’t know if you caught on yet, but they’re not so god-like anymore.”

Like the Clawthornes, Luz realized. The family exiled after failing to produce powerful lines -that is, until Eda and Lilith were born gifted in a way their family hasn’t seen in generations.

“The Blights make the first move against the Emperor.” It sounded like she had gravel stuck between her teeth. Her words gritted and exposed bare. “Amelia once told me she never wanted me to meet another Blight because they're all snakes. I never believed her in the beginning; how could I when she was so nice? Until I met Odalia. Until I found out what they had done.” Lucia’s expression was almost even, but she couldn’t quite suppress the twitching that occurred at the intersection of her mouth and cheek. “They were furious when it turned out that Primrose’s second offspring carried a power that they hadn't seen in years; only made downright vengeful when an exiled Clawthorne held a power all the bloodlines of the Old Bloods should wield.”

“Ookay,” Luz stressed the word. “Blights, got it. But what are they hoping to gain from it? Is it really just power they want?"

“Yes, Luz,” she’s getting tired -it’s in her voice, in the turn of her shoulders, and the harsh clench of her jaw. “Power is all that matters to them because the families aren’t what they once were. They’re weaker.” She laughed, the sound harsh and inhuman. “They thought by handing Belos, the sole witch linked to the Titan, complete control of the Isles, their lost power would be granted to them in return, but…”

“...that didn’t happen.” Luz murmured quietly.

Lucia shook her head; it was a slow, solemn gesture.

“If anything,” the other her said faintly, “it was the exact opposite. The elders -the heads of the covens, if you will- are the last to wield any real semblance of power. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they're still leagues ahead of anyone else. But with every child that follows after, the magic is being...diluted, so to speak. I’d reckon it wouldn’t be much longer before they're no different than your average witch, and do you know why that is?"

“I...uh...magic?”

Lucia looked like she was going to say something nasty in response, but pinched the bridge of her nose instead to quell the rage -it seemed even without Lilith her mannerisms were still there in Lucia. “Okay, that’s not entirely wrong, but I really, really don’t have the time to get into this with you.”

"Make time then."

“Short version it is," Lucia sighed. "Okay, look, Belos doesn’t want to control magic because it’s wild and dangerous. What he wants is a stable flow of magical aura to harvest for himself. Because he’s weak, Luz. He’s a nothing who found a way to sit himself upon a throne of lies and blood and death.”

“How?” Luz demanded.

“The Titan,” said Lucia evenly. “It’s referred to as the sleeping giant; life giver of the Isles. The body is dead -make no mistake of that- but its heart still beats; keeps the Titan in its somber slumber.” An exhale. “Belos wasn’t lying about his connection to the Titan; it’s similar to ours with The Seer. The Titan has its own set of conditions, but it’s grown too weak to enforce any of them. Belos will use that to his advantage.”

Lucia continued on, blankly, as if Luz’s rapidly paling pallor didn’t faze her: “I don't know how well you paid attention to Professor Horris; in case you don't, the source of all magic comes from the Titan." She sighed. “And we'll learn soon enough the Titan can no longer produce magic of its own will; it needs to draw a steady amount from elsewhere to keep the magic stabilized. So long as it has magic thriving within, it can fabricate more and return that to the Isles. Run out…”

“...and the Titan dies.” Luz finished for her. “...magic dies.”

“Give the girl a prize.” Lucia clapped her hands once. “Why do you need to know this? Because Belos has taken that and used it to syphon his subjects’ magic right from under their noses; it’s why he created the coven system.” She paused; continuing with a grating laugh. “Those glyphs? They don’t just lock away a witch’s ability to use other forms of magic, it takes it from them and sends it straight to Belos. Gone. Bye-bye. They’ll never do another form of magic beyond what they’ve been branded to do again.”

Luz sat there, unmoving, eyes wide and frightened. “But then….if Belos is taking the magic…”

“The Titan is dying, and because of their connection Belos is dying along with it.” Lucia breathed out sharply, a flicker of emotion in her eyes, before she blinked and it’s gone. “Belos disrupted the flow, channeling the magic straight into him instead, and he’s not so willing to give it back to restore order; so Belos wants to find a new power source for the Titan to live off.”

“Does he find one?” Luz asked uneasily.

Lucia’s whole frame seemed to slouch, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t...I have to go,” she gritted out. “I can’t remain here any longer.”

“No!” Luz shouted, scrambling to her feet to...well, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do. How does one keep another version of herself from leaving? “You can’t leave until you tell me what you mean. What’s the new power source? Why do we need to get involved? What happens, Lucia?”

“I...can’t.” Lucia shuddered, face paling. “You need to let me go, Luz. We can talk more when you become The Seer’s host.”

“NO!” Luz choked, thoughts frantic. “I don’t want to find The Seer. I want nothing to do with this! So answer me, Lucia -what is the new power source?”

It’s the wrong thing to say -she knows it as soon as she says it. But when has Luz Noceda done anything remotely right in the recent year? She’s all wrong. Head a scrambled mess. Emotions made of glass; easily shattered.

A stillness settled over them then.

Lucia leveled a silencing stare at Luz. Rage brightened the brown of her eyes.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” She canted her head, a motion not unlike Elara. Except, it’s mechanical instead of curious. Off. “We don’t get a choice in this. You will find The Seer, because fate ensures you will make whatever sacrifice is necessary to save someone you love. It may not be Elara like it was for me. It could be Amity. Eda. Lilith.”

“No-”

“-enough!” Lucia snarled, and Luz stumbled back a step -Lucia’s face was twisted into a sneer, but her eyes were haunted, an unfathomable horror in them. “Stop acting like a child, Luz. Have you really learned nothing since coming to the Isles? We don’t get happy endings; we’re broken humans glued together with taped pages of happiness.” She took a measured step forward. “Do you think you’re special? Everything will turn out right in the end for you? That you will be different from the rest of us?”

Luz flinched, stung. “I-”

“-you’re not.” Lucia cut across her. “Let me make it clear to you what’ll happen if you don’t find The Seer.” One step, two steps -she’s taller than Luz, scarred and more imposing, but Luz has an inkling she’s as much a glass figurine as Luz herself is. “Without The Seer, you won’t obtain the scroll to cure Eda’s curse. Because, news flash, there isn’t one. It’s gone.” A step. “Without the scroll, you can’t cure her, which means Eda will succumb to the owl beast.” A step, and Luz took a step back to keep a distance between them. “And if that happens, the Isles is as good as dead. Because Eda’s the only one powerful enough to stop Belos.”

Luz was the first to look away, looking now at the glyph burned into the other her’s arm, now at the emptiness of Elara’s living room, now at the couch, anywhere but at the look in Lucia’s eyes where that unfathomable horror lies. She speaks as though Luz is destined to walk the same path as her. How certain is Lucia of it? Have all the versions of her followed this same path?

No, Luz wagered. If their lives were so cut and dried, wouldn’t they have already come up with a solution to prevent future versions from going through the same pain?

“I’m not the villain here, Luz,” Lucia said, hands held palm out as if to placate her. “You've seen my life. It's not much; I've made many sacrifices, but it's mine. My little taste of happiness. I'm here to help you."

The sentence sunk into the ground where Luz could see it; it’s maddening, disbelieving. An unbearable one. Is that to be her life? To lose those she loves for one shot at a happiness she doesn’t deserve in the end?

She lost Lilith for a family that isn’t whole, and as naïve and selfish as it makes her out to be, Luz won’t follow her down. I’m not like you.

Luz Noceda isn’t Lucia Clawthorne.

Shoulders square, voice steady. “What makes you so sure that the scroll will be gone in my universe?” Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, knuckles white. “I’m not you, Lucia. My life isn’t yours. My future shouldn’t depend on finding some relic that’s going to make me sacrifice Lilith!”

Lucia flinched like she’d been struck, and for a moment, Luz felt a stab of satisfaction; somehow it felt good to say out loud -to hold her accountable for what she’s done, even if regret lodges in her throat in the process.

“It’s not The Seer who makes you do anything.” Lucia was looking away, like she’s trying to focus on anything but Luz. “You...we make the sacrifice. A price will always be paid, Luz. You will find The Seer, one way or another.”

A price must be paid, the otherworldly voice surfaced. A price will always be paid.

Luz wanted to tell them where they can shove their price; preferably somewhere where the sun doesn’t shine.

But something sharp lanced the back of her head, and Luz saw a flare of white behind her eyelids as cold washed through her and paralyzed her muscles.

Then darkness came, and she felt nothing at all.

At the moment, it felt almost like déjà vu to her. Or, at the very least…

...it’s something.

A prickling sensation starts at the back of Luz’s neck when her feet touch the ground, and she makes the mistake of ignoring it -her attention diverted on what appears to be blood on Elara’s door. No, no, no. Stomach twisting in knots, the teen flings herself from Owlbert; hand catching on the doorknob as the prickling raced an icy path down her spine. No, no, no. And then it’s like the sharp sting of tiny needles on her skin as the door is thrown open so violently it rattles on its hinges and impacts the wall with a resounding thud in her panic. No, no, no. She won’t remember that first brush of pain, or even remember what she thought she’d find -something unpleasant; something gory no doubt- but she won’t forget that instead of the healer, she’s met with an Elara who isn’t Elara.

Her sister, she’ll recollect. Mira.

Mira Rime. And the guilt, and horror, and the hatred brimming in her gold eyes. Caged.

Those eyes were filled with a madness so complete that Luz felt a surge of pity sweep through her. Then a sense of danger came, and with it a reaction so fast Luz would have sworn it’s imperceptible to the naked eye. Swiftly -almost absentmindedly, like a motion ingrained since birth- the other Rime sidesteps to shield her twin from Luz’s line of sight. And with a hiss from her palisman, Mira sped for her with all the force of a freight train. Her eyes so, so bright with malice.

“Mira! Mira, NO!”

And that’s when everything felt wrong. A searing, endless heat expanding in her skull and pushing out.

Luz felt like she was being torn asunder; something coils inside her, curling tight deep within her to protect itself from the onslaught of pain. She felt the moment her mind was shattered like a mirror that’s been carelessly tipped over; her memories fragments of broken glass -jagged and scattered. All mixed up with pieces that don’t align. An influx of memories that weren’t hers. None of which she had time to dwell upon.

There was only pain. Blinding agony unlike anything she had dreamt possible had blossomed within her, like the very blood in her veins had suddenly turned to burning white phosphorus. It had come so suddenly -so fiercely- that Lucia didn’t think she had a chance to scream.

She couldn’t even breathe.

Everything was going black and hazy around the edge of her vision. And Mira...just strolled. Unaffected by Lucia’s cries of agony, she strolled toward the teen like she had all the time in the world, her eyes burning with a glee so inhuman. Bright like her sister’s when the All-Knowing Sight has been casted.

“Luz? Luz! Can you hear me? Luz!”

Trembling. Every part of her is trembling -the all over shiver of someone trying to hold themselves together by strength of will alone. The world was a distance away -it seemed that way to her, at least- the touch of hands on her face barely felt brushes against her skin; the fingers combing into her hair feather light. What’s happening?! Her body acts on auto-pilot, jerking to get away, and her hands wind up hooking around a pair of wrists in the struggle. Help me!

A voice calls her name and a soft sob is torn from her throat in response. It hurts. Her nails dig into the skin hard enough that Luz felt a warm liquid swell beneath her fingers. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“Luz? Luz!”

The voice is wet, and cracking, so afraid, and Luz...she knows this sound somehow -the familiar taste of the anguish in the melodic notes. Mom. Mom. Mom. Wait, not her mom...right?

“Luz, Luz, sweetie,” the voice whispers, warm lips pressing against her temple, tears dripping down her cheeks -tears that aren’t hers. “Open your eyes, my love. I need you to look at me. Please.”

Another step. Another. It hurts. Somehow getting worse with every forward step of the illusionist. Her eyes so, so bright. Lucia clutched her head with both hands and knelt, mouth gaping without accomplishing anything -gasp, gasp. She can’t breathe any easier, but now everything smells sharp and tastes like copper. Like she’s bitten her tongue. A soundless cry is building in her chest, a pressure ceasing the flow of air to her lungs as she clawed at her scalp to redirect the pain elsewhere, but it’s useless...useless. It burns, and burns, and burns.

It won’t stop.

MAKE IT STOP! SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP! HELP!

“Help,” Luz begs as her nails sink deeper into the skin, a hiss accompanying her quiet plea. An all-too-familiar feeling of helplessness surged and drove the breath from her body. “It won’t stop. Make it stop. Someone make it stop. Help…”

“I’m trying, my love,” despite the painful hold Luz has on them, a set of thumbs don’t hesitate to stroke under her eyes. “Come on, sweetie, open your eyes. I can’t see the damage. You need to let me in.”

Luz can’t pry her eyes open; can’t do much of anything. “Help, help, help,” is all she can breathe out. “Help me...it hurts. Help! Mami! Mami, please, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry!”

A sharp inhale. “What did you do?” The voice grinds out -rasping and rough- from between clenched teeth. It doesn’t sound right, the rage. Such a sound didn’t belong infused with the soft tone.

“Me?” A second voice, one almost identical to the first, came out strangled in disbelief. “This isn’t my doing.” A tsk sound follows. “Don’t let your emotions make you out to be a fool, my dear. The magic radiating off her isn’t anything like mine.”

“If it isn’t you,” a shaky inhale; another careful swipe under her eyes. “What else could it be? She’s in pain, but I can’t see where it’s coming from.”

“I do not know,” the second voice hums eerily similar to the one Luz knows best. “It’s unfamiliar to me. Wrong.” A mocking laugh. “And that’s coming from someone like me.”

Lucia’s been feeling a little off today -lonely, but not wanting the company of others.

When the feeling pricks under her skin, she usually sought out her mother; the formerly known Owl Lady had a knack for dispelling Lucia’s woes with a prank she’s thought up on the spot. However, her mother’s dealing with the High Council -more like she’s poking a stick at a cranky cobra that’s ready to send her to the underworld. And Amelia’s off on a date with a guy Lucia wanted to shove off a canyon. (Her mother has stated she’ll lend a hand if he so much as makes her cry.) So Lucia sought out the only other person who could quiet the garbled mess that’s her head; who just so happened to have a slot free in her schedule.

Which was where she was now - seated in the back office of a healing clinic, with said person bent over her desk, catching up on a few stacks of paperwork she needed to review -one of which may or may not have to do with a clinic Lucia may or may not have accidentally burnt down. 

“So...uh...I have…” Lucia faltered, eyes flitting across the room, unable to look at the healer directly. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Oh?” Her mom carefully set her pen down, moving it and the paper she signed to the very edge of the desk. Her expression didn’t change, a scrunch to her nose that Lucia knew meant she wasn’t pleased with something she read. “What is it you’d like to ask me?”

“What do you think of Amelia’s new boyfriend?” Lucia asked in a flurry of syllables. “Trouble, am I right? He defaced mom’s statue yesterday; who does that to their own girlfriend’s mother’s statue? I mean, he does realize who she is to Amelia, right? Real boyfriend material there.”

One of her mom’s eyebrows slowly rose throughout her ramblings. “Sweetheart, it was just last week that you defaced your mother’s statue.” She rebuffed gently.

“That was different!” Lucia argued, frowning in annoyance. “I’m her kid; I’m allowed to. He isn’t.”

“I see. My apologies then.” Her mom said, smiling. “And as far as what I think of him, I can’t really say I have the right to judge who Amelia chooses to court.”

Lucia looked up at her sharply. “Why not? She’s your daughter. Isn’t that what mothers do, judge their kids' taste in romantic partners?”

“Would you like me to humor you until you’re ready to tell me what this is actually about?” Her mom’s eyebrow rose a second time and an enigmatic smile shaped her lips.

Lucia pouted. “I’m not a child, you know.” She set her elbow on the desk, chin resting in the palm of her hand. “I want you to take me seriously here.”

“If you want me to treat you like an adult,” The healer chided softly. “Then I wouldn’t start the conversation by slandering a boy you won’t take the time to get to know. He’s a troublemaker, yes. Spends too much of his time on pranks, yes. Can’t be on time to save his life, yes. Has a problem with authority, yes. But he’s also charming, nice, well-mannered, and a delight to be around.” She canted her head, a finger tapping her chin in faux thought. “Who else does that remind you of?”

Lucia made a face. “How dare you compare him to mom. He’s nothing like her.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to hear, sweetheart, but he very much is like Eda.” Her mom sat back in her chair, picking up the cup of tea she brewed earlier -a herbal blend Amelia had gifted the healer for her birthday- and took a careful sip, staring at Lucia over the rim. “Like you. I dare say, we of Blight heritage have a type.”

“So you’re just fine with it then?” Lucia spat in disbelief, an itch forming under her skin that’s a little too familiar. “Fine with her dating some delinquent who can’t grow up?”

“Your mother is the Empress,” her mom simply said. “And yet just yesterday she sank the Isles’ largest library into the ocean because they wouldn’t pardon her overdue charges; not to mention, she body swapped with Amelia to, and I quote, ‘give her a head start on what being Empress is like’ when we all know perfectly well she didn’t want to attend her council meeting when Mira wasn’t there to entertain her.” A sip of tea. “Not growing up isn’t the problem here, sweetheart.”

“Yeah...well, she’s in no danger of getting you pregnant!” She snapped before her brain caught up with her mouth, and she scrambled in an ungainly rush to recover. “He’s not making an effort to be something; do something with his life. Amelia has ambitions and dreams; it wouldn’t take much for that neanderthal to ruin it all.”

There was a clink as her mom set her cup down. “Lucia.” She warned, tone soft and low and cracked at the edges. “A child doesn’t mean the end of the world. Amelia can still achieve her dreams; it’ll take a little more effort juggling a kid and a career, but she has us to help her whenever she needs it.” Her mom gave a wan, little chuckle. “Eda doesn’t like responsibility any more than he does, but something you learn about free spirits like them is that they always have those they love best interests at heart -if he loves her and wants a future with her, he won’t hinder her in any way; he’ll support her and stand by her side. Just as Eda has done for her family. Like you.”

Clenching her jaw, Lucia opened her mouth to make another comment, only to feel awkward and foolish in the face of the disappointment in the healer’s eyes. “I...I’m sorry,” she said lamely, shoulders drooping. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Her mom murmured, her voice betraying neither disappointment nor approval. “I know you want to be there for her -we all want to tuck her away and keep her safe, but you can’t chain someone down when they want to fly. Love is complicated, and it’s messy and it’ll hurt at times.”

Lucia paused, thinking. “Like you and mom?”

“Maybe not quite like us.” The healer raised a hand to her lips. “I couldn’t imagine watching my daughter pine over the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with for as long as we have.”

Lucia shook her head. “Why did it take so long for you two to tie the knot? The way you two act together, I can’t help but think you should’ve been married a long time ago.”

“Hmm.” Her mom hummed, noncommittal. “As you know, Eda and I dated years ago; it wasn’t the wisest decision I’d ever made.” She frowned. “I was hurting, and Eda didn’t want to be alone.”

“So it wasn’t love?” Lucia asked.

“In a sense it was love,” her mom replied. “I have always loved Eda; she was my best friend -and I never should have let myself cross that line then. We weren’t ready, and what we had was desperate and messy and wrong. I walked into that relationship knowing I was going to hurt her. I couldn’t quite let myself love her; not like she already loved me.”

“Why not?”

“Who’s to say?” Her mom sighed. “To this day, It’s unclear what hindered me. The death glyph? The blood on my hands? My sister? There’s a long list of reasons,” she sighed. “I did exactly what I thought I would -I hurt her. We drifted apart. I lost my best friend because of my selfishness.”

Lucia reached across the desk to clasp her mom’s hand. “It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” she reassured her; smile soft. “And mom’s not so innocent in it all; she was selfish too.”

“Suppose we both were.” The healer said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Love hurts, and it doesn’t always work out like we think it will.” She rotated her wrist so she could intertwine their fingers. “But it’s worth it when you find the one who makes your heart feel lighter; who fills you with warmth with something as simple as a smile.” A breathy laugh. “Someone who looks at you like Eda looks at a buffet table.”

Lucia was silent for a moment, snorting as she blinked back tears. It equally warms her heart and stirs an ache within it. Like she’s so damn happy two of her favorite people have found happiness together, but some forgotten part of her feels like it’s a betrayal; that by being together they’re hurting someone important to them.

A squeeze to her hand disrupted her thoughts. “Would you like to tell me now what’s actually bothering you, sweetheart?”

Lucia suddenly felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. “It should’ve been me.” She choked out. “Right? It should be me.”

“Lucia, don’t.” Her mom pleaded, her face pale with worry. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Forcing a crooked smile, she tried to ignore the dampness at the corner of her eyes. “This is what I want for her -to move on and find someone who can love her for her, but…” She hiccupped. “But what if it was a mistake? Maybe I could have made a different choice. What if we were meant to be and I went and messed it all up?”

“Oh no, sweetheart. No.” Her mom was up and moving to close the distance between them, her hands acting on pure instinct to cradle the sides of Lucia’s face. “Being in love doesn’t always mean you’re meant to be.”

“I know that.” Lucia sniffled, hands following the same instinctive drive as her mom to reach up and grasp the healer’s wrists. “But I don’t even get the chance to find out.” She choked on her sobs. “I want to love her. I- I want what you have; I want that, but I can’t. All I have is an emptiness where love should be.”

“Lucia, I-”

“Why did I have to lose my love for her?” She cried, burrowing into her mom’s neck, the healer’s arms not hesitating to cradle her like a small child. “Why can’t I be happy like you?”

The healer was silent. And then, “You’ll find your happiness someday, my love.” She breathed out in a soft whisper. “My purpose in life is the happiness of my children, and you are mine.” Lucia jerked, knowing where the healer is going with this, but her mom only tightened her hold on her. “If that means giving you my love...I’ll do it. Sweet spirits, you have more than earned it after the cards you’ve been dealt in this life.”

“...but," it’s weak and pathetic and hopeful -a sound Lucia doesn’t want to hear out of her mouth.

“No buts.” Her mom pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. “It’s all yours, sweetheart. I’ve had my happiness. You just tell me when you want yours.”

“...okay.”

Her mind howls, spitting mad and desperate. She can’t quite separate the pieces of the other her from what makes her Luz, and she wonders -because everything is screaming- why she is even trying. Why it had been so important to her is suddenly falling away like water trickling through the gaps in her fingers and is lost to her.

A familiar warmth prods at the cracks of the agony searing in her head, looking for a weak point to penetrate and take the pain from her. It’s not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

She’s lost. Lost to the memories that ache and burn. Lost. Lost.

“You’re lying.”

Lucia felt her stomach launch into her throat. It was the room, she thought -the room she’s entered enough times to know you’ll never hear anything worth smiling over. A slaughterhouse for the hopeful. A broken promise spoken aloud.

“ You must be lying.”

Lucia sat at the head of that long table; this is the first time she’ll be on the receiving end instead of the other way around -her hand clasped tightly onto her knee beneath the table’s smooth, gray surface, knuckles white from the simple exertion of clenching them. The other was buried in her hair, trembling, as she stared at the sheets of paper spread out in front of her. A diagnosis that simply mustn’t be right.

“Tell me you’re lying.” She took care to keep her voice light and twist her features to keep the anguish from showing, and reminded herself that she had expected this, even if she had also perhaps hoped differently. “There must be something more we can do for him.”

She begged.

She pleaded.

“We’ve done all we can,” the answer came, their voice so casual that they could have merely been discussing a inconsequential matter. Cold. “The damage is just too extensive; it’s spread too far into his vital organs. Anything else we do at this point is likely to be more harmful than helpful to him. You know this, sweetheart.”

She very muchly so wished she didn’t at this moment.

Lucia is something of a prodigy in the eyes of the healers. To those who bother to acknowledge her, that is.

Like so many others before her, Lucia’s training was handled by the one and only Elara Rime -unlike so many others before her; however, Lucia took the healing arts world by storm. Her magic’s not quite the same as the witches born of the Isles -their magic gifted to them by the Titan, while Lucia’s taught to her- and they all whispered behind her back, as if she couldn’t hear how they felt about a magicless witch wannabe wasting Elara’s time trying to be something she isn’t.

Lucia never let their words deter her. Her mother always told her: “You’ll never know who you’re meant to be if you let people tell you what you aren’t. You’re your own witch, kid; only you can decide who she is.”

Lucia, a human, took them all by surprise when she mastered her mom’s spells -some of the most complicated healing spells to master- in the form of glyphs. Countless hours with her nose buried in medical books of both worlds; scrounging through the old texts of the so-called “wild witches” of the “savage age” before Belos became the Emperor. The loss of sleep spent perfecting the design of the glyphs; it took years off her life with the amount of frights she subjected herself to when testing the glyphs on her person. (Mira’s manic laugh still haunts her in the night.)

It was all worth it to see the look on their faces. (How you like them apples, she jeered at them. Was her mom happy about that little stunt? On the outside, no. On the inside, very much so. And her mother? She threw actual apples and cheered ‘that’s my kid’ so loud her voice still rings in Lucia’s ears to this day.)

She mastered Elara’s craft and her techniques; she can heal physical wounds and psychological ones without the need of her mom hovering over her shoulder anymore -that level of trust has only been granted to four healers. Poppy Rime. Lyra Blight. Adonis Mexim. And now Lucia Clawthorne.

So, yeah, Lucia is one of the best -her mom still wears the crown, and Poppy, her mom’s younger sister, next in line for her throne, with little Lucia quickly catching up to her.

Then there’s a kid. His name’s Gus Porter, and he’s only eight years old -a child who shared the name with a boy she buried five years ago. No relation. No similarities. He’s nothing like the boy becoming a man Lucia once knew. But the name struck her all the same. Awakened the old her and called out for her to befriend him.

Little Gus was a frequent visitor to the clinic Lucia spent most of her time at. He was always coming in because of what they thought was a flare up of his asthma -well, the Isles has another name for it, but Lucia is of the opinion it sounds like a garbled mess of gibberish. All of his tests always came back reading as merely that; none of them had ever thought to dig a little deeper into it.

It’s not all that uncommon, Lucia has learned, for children with asthma on the Isles to have a harder time in life than those of the human realm -the Isles has a way of weeding out the weak; in no need of damaged goods before they can even prove their worth.

Elara’s never been called in to look at him either; for the simple reason that her mother made it clear when they rekindled their relationship she wasn’t to take on as much responsibility as she did. Small matters are delegated amongst the healers working at her clinics -regardless if they request her or not. Her mom now primarily focuses on her form of healing (the talk about your feelings, let the healer fix your brain, kind of healing) and the cases that actually require, what Lucia likes to call, her boss level healing. (Lucia forgets just how much of their gift the Rime healers suppress until it’s needed.)

Lucia never thought much of it, as she wasn’t Gus’ primary caregiver; that lies with Poppy, who is unquestionably the Isles’ next best healer after her sister -if she didn’t think anything was amiss, why should someone like Lucia?

A miscalculation she won’t ever make again.

Poppy isn’t a permanent resident at this clinic either; just frequents it more than the others since it so happened to be the one her sister was most spotted at. Which meant it was the busiest of all her mom’s clinics. (Imagine that.) But Gus’ mother was a nurse here and is on friendly enough terms with the other Rime healer to call and ask if she has the time to see her son.

And, well, Poppy is...well.

She’s a killer with a soft smile, if one is to best describe her. A combination of Mira’s hellbent drive for destruction and mayhem, and Elara’s selflessness and encompassing warmth. She’s as pleasant and polite as Elara is known to be at all given times, but when her patience runs thin -a rubber band stretched too taut- she’s as vicious as a lashing viper like Mira prides herself on.

The staff at the clinic fear her as much as they adore her. Lucia is no exception to this.

It was through Poppy that Lucia met Gus. She met a little boy who didn’t have a care in the world. Untouched by the suffering the Isles can unleash on someone. He was happy without the need to sacrifice to obtain it. His laugh was carefree, his smile wide and real. He brought a flicker of life into a dead piece of her heart. Warmed the crevices of the emptiness her family can’t reach. It was then she understood why her mom looked the way she does at children -‘they’re the future’ she always told her, ‘and they deserved to be loved and cherished.’

Gus Porter was only eight years old -a child whose life had only really started.

A life that’s been disrupted. Dying. And that was that, the damage irrevocably dealt and done.

An empty shell. He went from being someone -a boy with a carefree laugh and a smile that’s wide and real- to becoming an empty shell. All in the span of the time it takes in the blink of an eye, and yet, it was enough to eradicate everything this boy had been and anything he might have ever hoped to be.

He’d been healthy, safe, and sound. And now...now he’s sick.

“No,” she whispered. Her voice was garbled through the choked down cries. Guttural. “Gus, no.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” the voice came again. “I know he means a lot to you, but we must do what’s best for him now, and that’s making his last days as painless as possible.”

“How...how can this be?” Lucia asked before she could stop herself. “How...how didn’t we...how can...I mean...he’s just a boy...a kid, and we-”

Her mind howled, chewing down into her bones and spoiling all the happier memories -destroying the cloying warmth building where her heart once was. Laughter gave way to beeping machines. Small hands. Shaking hands. Eyes bright gold -sparkling in mischief and hungry for adventure- but smeared with exhaustion; pale skin waxy and gray tinted. A living corpse. Green Jell-O, because it’s the only thing he can keep down now.

Gus never failed to smile at her. Always smiling -that wide and real and living smile- even when they knew it must hurt so much. He hasn’t lost his light...yet.

Death now knocks on that brave boy’s door, and for a moment, Lucia thought her mom would explain, that she’d have an answer, and Lucia would feel like a fool for ever having thought he’d leave this world.

But the prodigy healer took one look at him-she didn’t even touch him, her mind roared- and uttered the words Lucia never thought she’d hear from her.

I’m sorry, she said. There’s nothing I can do for him. I’m so sorry.

Terminal, inoperable. Her breath came in hitched gasps, chest seized with a sudden tightening, and Lucia’s fragile heart shattered all over again.

It was quick and brutal.

Barbaric even.

I’m sorry, is all her mom would say to her. I’m sorry.

“We won’t always catch it. His tests all came back normal; nothing out of the ordinary,” there was a low sigh. “What’s done is done. We can’t change it, but we’ll be wiser the next time around.”

The next time. Another child. Another Gus.

She won’t talk about it, the deep painful place where Gus Porter, President of the Human Appreciation Society and best friend, resides. A pain that never healed because she never truly let it exist for any length of time. She collapsed, and crumbled, and rebuilt herself -she never thought herself worthy of grieving his loss when she could so easily return him to the land of the living. Like he was never gone.

This must be her punishment then. She infected an innocent child with her tarnished hands -she must have; it’s the only explanation. Another name to add on a tombstone; another laceration on a wound that won’t heal.

She let Gus die -all the power residing in her chest, a spell that could change his fate, and Lucia Clawthorne was letting Gus go. The child. The boy becoming a man. It’s a mistake; she felt it in her bones, but even in her rage -her disbelief- she heeded her mom’s words of five years ago:

“Sometimes they’re taken too soon from us, but life is fleeting, Lucia; here one minute and gone the next. Only fate truly knows when it’s our time to go. We can’t change it -it hurts, yes. We’ll think we can...but we simply can’t. A day will come when you understand why you must never take fate into your own hands.”

Today’s not that day; she doesn’t think she ever will understand.

Lucia swiped delicately at her nose, and she swiped at her leaking eyes, but the carnage still remained. It was unlikely to disappear for a long time. It stung her eyes, and it stung her heart, and it stung all over. The Seer echoed a price -a little boy could be miraculously healed. Lucia could do that. The Rime sisters could do it with a spell.

“So, what, I just let him die?”

“No,” a set of burnished gold eyes looked at her like they understand, like they’ve made this choice over, and over, and over. “You let him rest.”

It’s another name she’ll jot down on her list of failures.

She’s tired. So, so tired.

“Luz, sweetie, I need you to open your eyes.” Elara. Mom. Elara. “Come on; I know it’s hurting you. Let me help.”

“Don’t,” the second warns. “You don’t know what this is, Elara. You could wind up doing more harm than good; not that I much care what happens to her, but it could affect you. What use are you to her then?”

“But she’s-”

“Wait.” The other exhales; a single word, a powerful word. It echoes in her ears -familiar but not.

“Up, young one. You will not leave this field until you’ve disarmed me of my staff.”

Her breath coming in raw gasps, Lucia was too winded to reply as she was poked in the thigh with said staff. Another blow to the back of her knees had taken her down. Another tumble out of a set of numbers Lucia has since lost count of. A groan escaped her lips; she can already feel the ugly bruises she’d have on her forearms and shins tomorrow morning. I’m being punished, she groused. The gods have set me on trial and my judge is the goblin mercilessly beating me with a stick.

A poke. “You aren’t worn out yet, are you?” Another poke. “We’ve barely started.”

Barely sta- Lucia called bullshit. Barely starting does not leave one lying in a pile of aching limbs, staring up at the clear blue sky and wondering if this is the day they die. At the hands of a miniature tyrant. With a stick. Can’t forget the stick.

Lucia huffed, shooting a look of pure disdain at the person standing over her, the tip of their staff still poking her rhythmically in the thigh, as if it’ll motivate her to rise. Their palisman, a twin cobra to Asa -and, like Asa, never sleeps and always at the beck and call of his mistress- peered at her with the same expressionless eyes as his owner, but Lucia knew -oho, does she know- he’s laughing at her.

Like the little twitch at the corner of his mistress’ mouth indicated she found amusement in Lucia’s torment as well.

“Why do I even need to know how to disarm a witch anyway?” Lucia growled, ceasing the staff’s actions with a swat of her hand. “Your magic doesn’t lie in your staff. You can still cast without it.”

Her tormentor seemed to consider her for a moment. “A witch’s magic doesn’t lie in their staff, correct,” she nodded her head in agreement. “But for most witches it’s what’ll determine victory or defeat in a fight.” She nudged Lucia’s thigh with the toe of her boot. None too gently, at that. “Now rise, young one. No blood of mine will know the taste of defeat.”

“But I’ve already tasted defeat,” Lucia drawled sarcastically, unmoving. “And it tastes like dirt. Besides,” she vaguely waved a hand in the air. “We’re not blood. So, technically speaking, you’re in the clear.”

“My sister has taken the Clawthorne name,” her tormentor replied, thoroughly unimpressed, though Lucia isn’t that surprised, as she had made her displeasure known when her twin had taken on a family name on the day of her union with her chosen. Even when she knows Eda’s never lived by their standards. “And in taking the name, she has taken you as her own. By her word, you are blood to me.”

“Aw, is that your way of saying you love me?”

“It isn’t.” Mira said flatly. When Lucia opened her mouth to fire out a Eda level retort, the illusionist slammed the blunt end of her staff down onto Lucia’s stomach, knocking the wind right out of her. She rolled onto her side, gasping for air as Mira continued, “You are her child. And as her child, you are by extension a Rime. And Rimes do not know the meaning of defeat.”

“Last I checked,” Lucia wheezed, a snort lodged in the back of her throat. It’s a dangerous game she’s playing, but she’s a Clawthorne, and as a Clawthorne, it’s her duty to wreak havoc on the illusionist. “You’ve been dealt defeat at mom’s hand a significant number of times. Both of them.”

The staff whacked her in the back of the head. Hard enough that stars dance in her vision. “Your tendency to wear on my patience is infuriating,” Mira snipped back. “Were you born this stupid, or has Clawthorne infected you with her idiocy?”

“I’m afraid it’s contagious. Ye be warned,” putting on a rakish grin, one fairly similar to her mother’s, and suppressing a sob as her muscles lit up as if electricity was racing through them, Lucia stiffly got back to her feet. She dusted off her sweat-soaked clothes, brimming with amusement by the feel of a heated glare burning holes into her forehead. “So...disarming a witch. Why?”

“Because,” Mira pinched out between obviously clenched teeth, going still, except for the slow twist of her wrist, her staff seamlessly following the flow of her fingers to lazily point at Lucia. “Witches with limited magical reserves tend to store the majority of their magic into their palismans. A failsafe, if you will.” She slammed the end of her staff down onto the ground; there’s a sudden current in the air, almost electric, that has sparks dancing over Lucia’s skin. The physical feel of her aura. Magic.

“So,” Lucia chimed in. “Like a battery of sorts?”

“Yes, like a battery.” Mira replied, unamused. “Take it away and you stand a better chance of defeating them.”

“And you expect me to take it from you?”

“Yes.”

Well shit, Lucia thought. She has no hope of disarming Mira of her staff. Personal experience has taught her that staffs are an extension of a witch; when wielded by a skilled witch, a staff becomes another piece of their body -it flows with their natural movements. Not only is Mira a skilled witch, she’s a soldier; her staff may as well be a third arm. So, no, Lucia will not be taking it from her anytime soon. Which meant she won’t leave this field anytime soon.

That’s when she got a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea in her head. One that could leave her for dead.

You only live once, right?

“What if,” Lucia said casually. Attempts to be casual, that is. “You teach me how to block your spells instead? If I can take you on, no witch stands a chance against me, am I right?”

Tilting her head to the side, Mira’s gaze is unwavering, watching Lucia with those cold, calculating eyes of hers. Like she’s always done. “You can’t block my spells,” and then without any warning she struck like a viper, fast and swift, her smaller frame giving her the advantage of speed over Lucia’s taller one. “Your best advantage against someone of my caliber is to wear my reserves down, which is nigh impossible.” Her staff was a blur of motion, her hands barely seeming to move as it thrusted forward with Lucia’s face as its intended target. It was therefore only by a hair’s breadth that Lucia managed to evade, twisting aside like her body was water, flowing around the staff. Any later and her face would have been smashed in; instead she hears the sharp sound of a whistle as the staff cuts through the air past her ear.

Lucia’s reactions are only a heartbeat faster than the illusionist’s as she ducked and weaved out of the staff’s path. “Yes, yes, you and mom have monstrous levels of reserves. You both remind me of this all the time,” she whined, dodging another well aimed strike before continuing, “but I can totally learn to block your spells. I mean, how hard can it be? It’s just an illusion, right?”

Mira stalled, her staff frozen in mid-air. “Don’t confuse my level of mastery to that of cheap parlor tricks,” she scoffed, nose in the air. “What makes you so certain you stand a chance at overpowering my magic than simply taking my staff, hm?” The staff is lowered, the illusionist’s head canting in an eerily similar fashion to her twin. “That confident, are we?”

Lucia shrugged. “I mean, if it weren’t for me you’d still be Belos’ plaything, so…” She trailed off, smirking. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“I’d be mindful of your words, young one,” Mira warned, eyes hollow and distant. “Calling the High Council playthings is not the way to keep breathing another day. We were prisoners by our hands alone; too weak to cut our chains and free ourselves.” She took a step closer to Lucia. “I was ordered to carry out heinous acts of violence.” A step. “I tortured in the name of the Emperor; slaughtered lives without question at his word. All to protect my weakness, my meaning of life.” Another step. “Your life means nothing in comparison to hers.”

Lucia backed away. “Okay, I see I struck a nerve,” she held her hands out to placate. “I’m just saying I did what you couldn’t, and that means something, doesn’t it?”

“Very well, young one,” Mira hummed out, and Lucia didn't get to answer before Mira’s expressionless face shifted to a sadistically cheerful look that sent a shiver down the young woman’s spine. Suddenly, that electric like current was thick in the air; Mira’s magic crackled and popped, and Lucia’s knees threatened to buckle under the pressure. “Let’s see how you fare without Clawthorne here to save you.”

To put it simply, Lucia doesn’t fare so well. And fails over and over again to block Mira’s spells.

She’s on the ground without remembering how she got there by the time Mira ceased her assault on her, her magic dialing back down until Lucia can no longer grasp it. The illusionist hadn’t even hit her with her most powerful spell, and here was Lucia, sobbing like a child on the ground. And Mira strolled. Just unfairly strolled: calm, slow, languid. Strolled so casually over to Lucia that the younger woman thought there’s something broken inside Mira, like all those years as Belos’ puppet and the fear for twin’s life has stretched her mind taut and snapped it. That’s the only explanation Lucia has. Only someone who’s quite not there can find amusement in tormenting people the way she does. Smile at the pained filled screams of her victims.

Lucia sat up when the other Rime twin was standing over her. Wiping away her tears with a shaky hand, she gurgled out, “So, what’s the secret with your spells? You’re an illusionist, right? How does it work? How do I block it?”

Mira lowered to a crouch, her palisman unfurling from its perch to slink down until he curled around her wrist. “It’s as I said before, you can’t block me, young one. No one can,” she said finally. “Like my sister, the base of my spells are centered around the brain and how it functions. Her focus just lies more in repairing the damage the mind can wrought than what I aimed for.”

Lucia knew that much; she’s been her mom’s apprentice for a little over two years now, and she knows the healer’s spells inside and out, even the ones she was hesitant to teach her. Amelia once said it was funny that one twin saves lives and the other is hellbent on destroying them. “You took a different route, right?”

“Yes,” Mira answered. “My spells were designed with our senses in mind: touch, smell, taste, hearing, and sight. There are an infinite number of ways to protect ourselves from harm -barrier spells, protection charms, skin hardening, to name a few. But the mind is always left vulnerable, and there’s not a single defensive spell out there powerful enough to keep me out.”

Mira exhaled, “My spells focus on attacking the brain directly, tricking it into believing whatever I want it to. I can weave a family that never existed right into your mind in the blink of an eye, and you would believe it was real; that you’ve spent years with them instead of seconds. I can make you believe they’re right in front of you; you’ll hear their voices and feel their touch.”

Lucia flicked off a stray piece of grass that clung to the fabric of her jeans. “What’s the point of creating a family?” She inquired. “Isn’t liquifying their brains more your style? Speaking from experience, it seems pretty effective to get someone to yield to you, or even tell you what you want.”

“Pain is what I’m known for, yes,” Mira agreed, her lips shaping into a sharp smile. “But there’s a few on the Isles who can handle a little pain,” it’s not a little pain, but Lucia digressed. “So I must resort to other measures to get what I want out of someone -weaknesses aren’t usually all that hard to seek out; everyone has them, but if I can’t find it…”

“You create one,” Lucia realized. “That’s why people are afraid of you.”

“Yes,” Mira hummed. “Even knowing all that, they will always break for me; there isn’t a single soul on the Isles who can ever hope to escape my spells.”

Frowning, Lucia cocked her head. “But my mother can block you.”

“Clawthorne doesn’t block me, young one.” Mira said simply. “Her magic instinctively creates a wall around her that overwhelms my magic and prevents it from penetrating her mind. If she could block me, a powerless Clawthorne could still go toe-to-toe with me, but she couldn’t.”

Her mother and Mira’s dynamic has always been a curious thing for Lucia; she thought Mira would find it irritating that her magic is inferior to Eda’s -you know, the troublemaker who took her talent for granted and spent her days pulling pranks instead of bettering the future of the Isles; who, even as Empress, would still rather pull pranks. Mira, on the other hand, is deadly and efficient and one of the best casters the Isles has ever seen since the age of the first witches -she has never been interested in bettering the Isles, sure, but she’s always had a goal in mind, and that goal was proving something to the families and protecting the one thing she values in this world.

If you asked Lucia, as far as casting went, Mira Rime is the strongest witch on the Isles, but when you add magical ability into the equation, Eda is an absolutely monster -the raw magic pouring from her sends others to their knees from the pressure alone, her reserves are endless, and unlike the other witches who have stuck to a primary magical talent (or have been forced to rely only on one), her mother is efficient in all forms of magic. Her mother could level the Isles in mere seconds. Wipe out everyone with a flick of her pinky.

The Empress of the Isles went above and beyond what the head of the High Council is capable of; far more powerful than the illusionist. And instead of envying her for it, or hating her down to her core, Mira almost seems to respect Eda -as much as someone who only has room for emotions in her dead, cold heart for her sister can respect someone. The two bicker on the regular like an old married couple -Eda pushes Mira’s buttons to the extreme, and Mira is a short fuse ready to blow as it is; it comes as no surprise when the two of them get into that they’ve been known to cause mass destruction to land and properties. And, Titan forbid, if anyone ever gets in between the two powerhouses.

Perhaps it’s simply that Eda represents a sort of challenge to Mira; she’s someone the illusionist can’t intimidate so easily. (Lucia still bursts out laughing about the time a newly wedded Eda was snuggling with her wife, only to be awoken by a goblin standing at the end of her bed with a knife in her hands, promising the Empress she’ll stab her forty-three times in the chest if she even thinks about hurting her twin.)

“So there really is no way to block you?” Lucia questioned after a moment. “No trick up the sleeve you’re hiding? A failsafe? A key to the lock?” She paused, smirking. “I can keep going.”

“Please don’t,” Mira grumbled. “There are only three ways you can have any hope of escaping my spells. First, my sister casts her barrier spell directly into your mind and that’s only going to hold for so long before I break it. Second, my sister transfers the spell onto herself or someone else,” her face twisted in discomfort for a moment. “Lastly, you overwhelm me with a more powerful magical signature, which is the least likely for you without Clawthorne’s aid, as she has been the only one powerful enough to cancel me out.”

“So...I’m fucked?”

“Very much so.”

“I think I’ve figured you out,” Lucia nodded sage-like, a hand stroking an imaginary beard. “You’re not actually mom’s twin; you’re just so very obsessed with her you’ve fabricated this lie with your illusions, haven’t you? And mother’s in on it because she finds your fetish hilarious.”

A twitch under her eye is all the indication Lucia needed to know she’s pushing the same buttons her mother likes to. “You’re brave to talk in such a way, young one,” Mira grounded out between clenched teeth. “Killing you is a simple feat for me.”

“But you won’t.” Lucia dropped back down, arms crossed under her head. “Because you wuv me.”

Like the air has been sucked out of her lungs, she can’t breathe. She chokes. Screams.

Her brain clicks and curls, slotting memories into spaces they can’t fit -like it’s so simple, right? Make it fit.

There’s nothing simple about it; nothing okay. Her mind is torn apart; she’s lost. Who am I?

A price must be paid, an otherworldly voice echoes out; rubbing raw against her mind like sandpaper. A price must be paid, Luz.

For several long moments, Lucia could scarcely bring herself to move as Asa took to the air. The palisman was a bit of a deceiver -he’s calm and understanding and patient like his mistress; however, he’s ruthless and cunning and impatient when in flight. He’s also a bit of a trickster when anyone but his mistress rode upon him, and the wind rushed past so swiftly that she feared she might be swept right off the wood she clutched desperately to.

The staff Asa was rarely ever spotted on was carved for speed -believe it or not, her mom’s a speed demon when in flight; so, naturally, Asa as well likes to go fast. And spin till Lucia’s green in the cheeks. And flip till Lucia’s in danger of losing her grip. And shoot up in the air, only to dive down at heart stopping speeds.

Even Owlbert can’t keep up with Asa; not without Eda boosting him with her magic.

Speaking of Owlbert, the little owl was perched on her shoulder; claws almost piercing into her skin through her jacket as he held on for dear life. However, he was immensely enjoying the ride, his wings spread out to catch the wind in his feathers and chittering happily in her ear.

Asa isn’t clicked into the staff -it’s even rarer for him to be dormant, and she’s only seen it be done once- he’s merely coiled around the end of it; upper body shifting with the movement of the staff he has sole control over.

If snakes were capable of expression, she’s certain he’d be smiling right now.

They were so high off the ground that the tall, thin trees that clung stubbornly to the slopes of the mountains of The Knee were little more than toothpicks. It was much too high to be necessary, she thought; not that her, surprisingly, daredevil of a mom ever noticed when she flew with her. And the speed; if anything, her mom always had a look in her eyes that read she’d go even faster if her child wasn’t with her. How she could possibly think this wasn’t fast enough, Lucia had no idea, and she doesn’t want to know the shenanigans her and her wife get up to when they fly without their children.

In no time at all, Lucia was covering a distance that’s at minimum a four days worth of travel on foot. Her destination? The Ribs.

Where the land breathed and shifted. It’s where magic was at its most potent, and there’s a reason a barrier surrounds the entirety of the territory; why there’s not a single settlement set up. One must be armed to the tee with protection spells and loaded with charms along with a passport to even be allowed to step a toe past the barrier. One must have an insane amount of raw power to dare walk in without protection -someone like her mother whose power was endless.

Why? Because The Ribs was also known as the devourer of magic.

And ever since the war ended and her mother was named Empress of the Isles, once a month, without fail, a whisper in the wind breathed out her name and Lucia made her way to The Ribs. Why? She doesn’t have an answer. She never stepped past the barrier; hasn’t since she was bound to The Seer. She has absolutely no reason to be there. To continue to take the journey, only to turn around in the end. So why?

Almost as if he sensed where her thoughts were, Asa slowly turned to face the human, a gleam in his beady eyes that Lucia was afraid to inquire about. Before she could form words, Lucia let out a scream that was equal parts ‘oh no, oh no’ and ‘holy shit, I’m going to die’ as Asa shot up like a rocket, rising higher and higher into the air. So high Lucia felt her eardrums pop. Felt the air leave her lungs.

So high she couldn’t see the land beneath the clouds.

“What are you doing?!” Lucia screeched over the howling of the wind. “As- Asa, I’m warning you, don’t you dare! Don’t -don’t you even think-” A sparkle was in his beady eyes. “GET ME THE FUCK OFF! I WANT DOWN NOW!”

He did not, in fact, let her get the fuck off, but he did oblidge her request to go down. By nose diving at the same speed as he went up. Lucia screamed to any higher power listening. And Owlbert? He abandoned her when she needed him most; flinging himself from Lucia’s shoulder and twisting in the air to stabilize himself, before he shot off in the direction they were headed before Asa went rogue. Traitor, Lucia will cry later. Much later. After she stops screaming.

In no time at all, the trees that were mere toothpicks before were in full view; Asa flipped and spun and weaved between them. Any words Lucia screamed over the wind are left unheard. She briefly considered just simply letting go and praying the trees would break her fall on the way down, but fear kept her hands gripped to the staff soaring through the air like a missile.

She’s going to die today.

This is how her life ends.

Then a hand gripped the collar of her jacket and roughly yanked her from the staff, and Lucia let out a startled cry as she was momentarily airborne before landing on another staff. In the same dark wood as the one that’s caught in a sure grip by whoever saved her. With a cobra coiled at the end that was similar to Asa; staring at her with his beady eyes. He’s laughing at her; she just knows it.

The only palisman without the need of magical assistance from their owner that’s capable of keeping up with Asa when he isn’t holding back is his twin and Mira’s faithful companion. The palisman hissed in greeting before banking a hard left to land on a large slope just outside the barrier to The Ribs, and he kicked up a great spray of snow as he first slowed his descent and then landed with a soft crunch of his mistress’ boots on the ground.

Lucia flung herself from the staff; had she been alone, she would have dropped to her knees and kissed the ground in gratitude, but mindful of the ammunition it’d give Mira to use against her, she opted to shove at the bits of dirt and snow clinging to her jacket instead.

It’s gotten colder. It’s the end of fall and the start of winter, even if there’s not always the obvious change the closer you move to The Ribs. Everything’s in that perpetual half-season murkiness it dwelled in; spring in the morning, summer by the afternoon, fall in the evening, and winter by the end of the night. Lucia pulled on a pair of gloves, thin but warm, and she wished she remembered a scarf. Then again, after what she just went through, a missing scarf was probably for the best.

“I don’t hear a thank you.” A voice sing songs and Lucia groaned loudly -refusing to turn around. There’s a soft oof from her as a warm body collided with her back, slim arms crisscrossing under her chin and drawing her further into their warmth. “Oh sweetheart, surely my sister taught you better than this.”

Lucia changed her mind about the scarf. She wanted to strangle the woman behind her -post haste.

“Why are you even here?” Lucia snipped, her body acting of its own accord to sink into that familiar warmth; the wisps of hair tickling her cheeks carrying the scent of honey and roses. “I thought mom was keeping you captive today -something about a staff member you’ve been teasing lately?”

“Ah well, you know Elara. She can’t deny her little sister what she wants.” The voice hummed, a mischievous lilt in the words. “And what she wants is to see her adorable baby niece.” A grin is pressed into Lucia’s cheek before she’s smothered in mushy kisses.

They laugh as Lucia squealed, a melodic sound among Lucia’s indignant squawks and snorts. She’s a flailing body of limbs and the one behind her is as still as a deeply rooted tree. Struggle is futile when a Rime has their prey in their claws, but Lucia wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I’m not a baby!” Lucia complained. “And you’re crushing me!” But they only squeeze her tighter.

“Do you have no self control?” A shiver ran down Lucia’s spine -from the crown of her head to the heels of her feet. She has the desire to reclaim Asa and bolt into the sky. Wanted to hide behind the body pressed against her; the arms around her tighten like they know exactly what she’s thinking, and intend to keep her feet firmly planted where they are. “You can lavish your odd affections on her later. The heart of the storm will be over us in a few hours; she can’t be here when it does.”

Lucia is two heads taller than Mira Rime; she’s a monster Lucia lovingly calls family, but that doesn’t change the fact she terrified Lucia from time to time -she’s a Clawthorne; teasing the illusionist is in her nature, but unlike her mother, Mira can still hack her into pieces if she pushed too far. Malice danced in her gold eyes, her mouth a thin line -dressed in her usual dark shaded tunic, trousers and boots, though there’s a maroon winter coat Lucia’s fairly sure is borrowed from her younger sister, as the sleeves have been rolled up some.

The illusionist walked with all the grace of a warrior entering a battle; a short and sinewy body that’s been built to attack on a moment’s notice. Her stance is sure and steady, and when she moves, it’s with a purpose in mind; no step is ever a wasted breath.

The voice sighed in Lucia’s ear, but added, “Always so impatient, sister dear.” Nonetheless, the arms slip away, and Lucia reluctantly turns to face its owner.

Poppy Rime.

A poison tipped smile danced on her lips, cheeks flushed from the cold nipping at her fair skin. For a moment there, Lucia almost mistook her for her mom; they’re eerily identical to one another -the same features, forest green curls, and gold eyes. Poppy’s hair was longer than her mom’s; usually in some up-do that’s seconds from coming undone, but today it’s been set free to blow in the wind. She’s also taller; the same height as Eda, and she’s bundled up in a maroon winter coat identical to the one Mira’s adorned, along with gray pants that cling to her legs and black snow boots.

A maroon knitted scarf was on her person, before she removed it to wind it around Lucia’s neck instead, because the wind’s starting to pick up, a particularly violent gust sweeping over them, enough that Lucia stumbled on her feet and the Rime siblings must brace themselves. The clouds churn violently above. A rumble of thunder promising heavier snowfall and the possibility of hail.

“I get why Mira’s here,” Lucia spoke over the wind, and in no way does she breathe in the scent clinging to the scarf -someone so annoying shouldn’t have such a comforting smell. “But...uh, why are you here?”

Poppy bared a feral smile reminiscent of her murderous elder sister. “Is that any way to greet your favorite aunt?” She purred, her voice pitching up comically, but the humor isn’t in her eyes -it’s a dead giveaway there’s more to her being there than Lucia initially thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucia blankly stared at her, an eyebrow quirking. “Hello, my dear succubus. How’s business? Are the numbers still high on how many hearts you’ve broken this week?” She smirked, canting her head. “Oh, and the wife; how’s she? Still upset you haven’t stopped flirting with my mother?”

“Ooh, someone is feeling particularly catty today,” Poppy grinned, never shying away -not even for a moment- and Lucia swore she’s going to kill her tia for it one day. “You’ll need to try harder than that, sweetheart.”

Lucia’s about to open her mouth, but Mira beat her to it. “Enough, or I will bury the two of you here.” She stepped between them; the snarl in her expression is dampened by the two cobra heads popping out of her pocket, and when Lucia glanced at the top of her head, Owlbert’s perched there. Explained where he got off to. She still called him a traitor. “You can’t keep coming to The Ribs, young one; there’s nothing here for you.”

Lucia’s jaw tightened. Her blistering gaze snapped up and she saw herself reflected back in those maddened eyes.

“You don’t know that,” Lucia sneered, the bitter taste on her tongue something like betrayal -Mira’s always watched over Lucia when she comes to The Ribs; she’s never said a word as the human stood in front of the barrier or when she left without entering, and she’s certainly never told her she couldn’t return. “I found The Seer here, didn’t I? I found it and saved us all. What if there’s more we haven’t uncovered?”

“And what has The Seer truly granted you?” Poppy intoned absently. The healer stared at Lucia with eyes that shouldn’t have the power to see through her, but somehow did, and Lucia forced herself not to fidget beneath that stare. “You’re half a person because of it, and not even my prodigal sister knows how to heal you.”

Lucia’s entire body went rigid. “Is that why you’re here? Is this...is this-” She laughed as she stared at her family in open, unguarded disgust. “-is this some kind of intervention? Did mom set this-”

“-my dearest has very little to do with this,” Poppy cut in curtly. “She was against it, actually. Said thrusting this upon you could do more harm than good, but she’s sadly soft when it comes to her children; so I’m afraid I couldn’t quite trust her word this time.”

Mira narrowed her eyes at the snide in Poppy’s tone, but she made no move to silence her sister.

It seared the blood in Lucia’s veins. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. You’ve all been talking behind my back about me?” She stammered with frightening malevolence; hand cutting across the air as if to expel some of the rage bubbling beneath her skin. “I’m not a little girl with a panic disorder anymore, y’know. I’m-”

“-a young woman with something far worse,” Poppy said derisively. “Something you’ve pushed down and have been fighting to conceal from us out of some misguided obligation it’ll spare us from pain.” She canted her head. “You can pretend all you want that we can’t see you’re still hurting. Even now. You’ve never given yourself the chance to grieve, to come to terms with your losses and sacrifices.”

“I don’t-”

“It’s almost a pity that my prodigal sister is weak to her emotions for you,” Poppy continued over her, “she can’t help you now because you are her child; she can’t prod at your wounds anymore, lest she wants to hurt you in the process.” Sighing, she shook her head. “Isn’t that how it works? Exposing the wound to clear the infection so that you can finally heal from the pain?”

“There’s no infection to heal.” Lucia insisted; her eyes flashed and Poppy frowned. “I’m fine as I am.”

“Then you’ve learned nothing.” When Poppy spoke, her voice was filled with icy rage, a cold, cruel anger that made each word bitter poison. “You’re still that little girl trying to play hero to people who never needed you to be. Still keeping a lid on your emotions, lest you burst at the seams. Still keeping your secrets like we can’t be trusted with what goes on in your head. You are so much like-” She dragged in a ragged breath. “You are still Luz Noceda, my little otter.”

Lucia reeled back. Her heart ached. Her ears rang. Luz Noceda was a name that’s dead to her -she was the optimistic side of her that Lucia was sickened by the thought of. That wasn’t her anymore -she’s Lucia Clawthorne. She had accepted the consequences of her old self’s actions. She’d taken the blame for her mistakes.

She’ll never heal from them.

She’ll never face them.

She’ll lock them away in a box she’ll never open again.

“I am not her,” Lucia whispered. Her fury was gone, and in its place a terror so immense she could scarcely breathe. “I won’t ever be her again.” Lucia barely heard the words she vocalized. “I can promise you I won’t make the same mistakes she made.”

“Then why do you continue to come here?” Poppy asked, eyes dark and hard, and Lucia saw something in her she’s never seen before -fear. “What is out there that you think you must find?”

Fear and Poppy Rime don’t mesh all that well; it’s not something someone would mutter in the same sentence. Poppy’s the type to act before thinking. Never hesitated. She dove from cliffs because she thought it was fun. She fought dangerous creatures because Elara forbade Mira from ever sparring with their younger sister -Poppy said it was because Mira broke her arm and...well, Elara’s a mom to her own siblings, so Lucia could imagine how that went. She spent her younger years initiating bar fights; not only as a form of training in her elder sister’s healing style, but for the simple enjoyment of manipulating people into doing what she wanted. Performed large feats of magic without her palisman because ‘independence is important’. Lucia won’t even get into the time she swam across the sea -the boiling sea- in the middle of winter.

Fear, Lucia thought, is afraid of Poppy.

To see it on the one person who ate fear for breakfast was enough to drag the truth out.

“A voice. Or maybe not a voice; a whisper of some kind,” Lucia forced the words out, even as the pain in her heart grew almost too much to bear. “Somewhere out there,” and she indicated The Ribs with a slow gesture of her hand. “It calls my name...and it’s so familiar to me. And I get this ache, like I should already know what it is.”

There was such pity in Poppy’s eyes then -pity for her, and Lucia had always hated pity. What good was it?

“The Seer once called out to you,” Poppy murmured, and there was a gentleness in her voice. Her gaze softened as she stepped close to Lucia. Almost without thinking, she reached out to cup Lucia’s cheeks in the palms of her hands, only to stop just shy of it; the warmth of her leaving behind a stinging cold as she lowered them to fiddle with Lucia’s jacket instead. “Do you really think it’s worth another round of loss to go seeking this out as well?”

Yes, a part of her whispered.

“No,” she said instead. “I...I guess it really isn’t.”

“So you have learned something after all.” Poppy smiled, but it was a sad smile, and slightly bitter too. There’s something swimming in the depths of her eyes -hidden beneath the malice and warmth. “I knew I couldn’t be that terrible of a teacher, hm? Though there is still much to be done for you, and you can fight me all you want, sweetheart, but I will drag you to the ends of the Isles if it means you’ll be whole again.”

Poppy Rime isn’t a shining star like her elder sister -she’s not prodigal in the sense she can change the way healers perform; she’s never created a spell that’s taken the Isles by storm. But Poppy has strengths where Elara has faults. Strong where Elara’s weak. Hard where Elara’s soft.

‘She’s not you,’ Lucia once said to her mom, the day she first saw what Poppy was like in her element. ‘She’s...ordinary? Like the other healers. I mean, her reserves are larger than theirs, sure, but she’s nowhere near what you got packing. How...how is she...y’know.’ Special.

‘You don’t need to be a prodigy to be special,’ her mom simply answered her. ‘Poppy’s so good at what she does because this is her passion. Values every life. Listen to every problem, to the smallest detail. She loves what she does so she puts her all into it; she’s not looking to be anyone but herself. People seem to forget that’s all you need to be.’

'Huh,' was all she could mutter in response.

'If you ask me,' her mom's mouth curled into a conspiratorial smile. 'Poppy's the real prodigy in the family.'

“The storm is growing closer,” Mira’s voice disrupted her thoughts. “We need to head out now if we don’t want to get caught in the worst of it.”

Poppy bopped Lucia on the nose with her index finger; then strolled over to her elder sister as though she weren’t a mouse in the line of sight of a panther. “Do you want our little otter with you? Or me?” She inquired, brushing up as close to Mira as the elder will allow of her. Which isn’t all that close; an arm’s length of distance between them. “She’s most likely not going to want to ride Asa after his little stunt.”

“Definitely not.” Lucia stood firm, even as the skies grew black. “That miscreant was trying to kill me.”

Something about the name drew an emotion from Poppy. Something light and flickering smoothed up the harsh edges in Poppy’s eyes, before it’s drowned out by a desolation Lucia can’t bear to see in the eyes the same shade of gold as her mom’s.

Lucia reached out as though to comfort her, but Mira beat her to it by smacking the younger Rime on the back of the head with her staff. Lucia winced at the hiss that escaped from between Poppy’s lips; she’s been on the receiving end of that particular move enough times to know it’s disorientingly painful.

“Spirits, Mira!” Clutching at the back of her head with a hand, Poppy glared death and destruction without a semblance of fear at her elder sister. “Must you be so violent?”

“Unless you’re bleeding, you’re fine,” Mira scoffed; then shoved her staff into her sister’s unsuspecting arms. “And even then you could handle healing a scratch.” A hand sunk into her pocket and came out with the palismans curled around her fist. “It’s been awhile since Asa’s flown in a snowstorm of this caliber; you and Lucia will take Abdima, and I’ll manage with Asa. Try not to die on the way home.”

“Your lack of concern is so touching.” Poppy purred, pressing a quick kiss on Mira’s cheek before ducking under the blow her sister launched at her with Elara’s staff. “Come now, little otter-” The healer swiped her sister’s palisman, mounted the staff, and scooped Lucia up; all in the blink of an eye. “-time to go home and listen to my sister lecture me on appropriate work behavior. I mean, really, what’s the harm in it if they’re the one who initiates it?”

Lucia ignored her.

Mira’s staring off at the barrier to The Ribs. Owlbert remained with her -it’s only now that Lucia realized in all the times she has traveled to The Ribs, Owlbert has been with her, and he always remains behind with Mira when she leaves.

“Hey, Poppy?” Lucia queried, propping her chin on the healer’s shoulder and encircling her arms around her waist. “You and Mira have spent a lot of time in The Ribs, right? Does she know what’s out there? Do you?”

“Of course we do, sweetheart,” Poppy returned automatically. “Enough secrets that I’d be surprised if your sly fox of a mother could fit them all in her house of junk.”

Lucia snorted. "It's human collectibles, you uncultured swine."

"Well...I was being nice when I called it junk. So let me rephrase myself: in her house of trash." A pause. "Why else do you live in my sister's house and not the other way around."

The pain reverberated through her again as she felt a wrenching sensation inside her head -she gasps, lurching upright. Warm hands are still stroking over the curve of her cheek and into her hair, a voice losing volume with every syllable, “I got you...here..love...to me…”

“ Mom?”

...and then she woke up.

Suddenly, the howling scream in her head is silenced -the pain disperses, but her body still tingles with the memory of the worst of it. Gasp.

The world around her felt strangely distant. Blood pounds in her ears; hearing everything from far off, like she suddenly finds herself at the edge of a dark tunnel. She blinks, and the darkness began to clear, as if it were a dark fog instead of blackness. She blinked again, and again, and slowly a familiar -yet not- ceiling came into view. She’s flat on her back, lying on something reasonably soft that smelt faintly of roses; staring up with a lost look on her face. Wha…

Of course. I’m home. She pushed the sheets back, and sat up, shakily breathing a sigh of relief. It had all been a nightmare, a terrible dream, and now she was awake and safe in bed. I’m going to have to tell mom the dreams have returned, aren’t I?

It had been such a vivid dream too; the most detail she’s encountered in years, and now she can barely remember it -even now the details were slipping away from her. She had been in a place like her home; yet it wasn’t, but it was. Full of people familiar to her; yet they weren’t, but they were. It felt…like her life had been played out behind someone else’s eyes...She shook her head. It was pointless trying to remember it now. Weird.

Mahogany eyes scan around the room, the horror that lingers after one’s nightmares still on her skin, making her shiver slightly. The space was covered in an assortment of...plants; the same state as the living room that’s also been overrun by flora. Why do I feel like I’ve never seen this before? Everywhere she looks there are plants lining the shelves on the walls, surrounding the floor to ceiling windows to the right of her, and hanging from the slanted ceiling overhead. A desk was set up on the opposite side of the windows, the light of the sun warming the dark wood; she notices the piles of books and papers stacked all over its surface. And...

Oh. She blinked again, because is that her mother’s deck of cards hidden under a pile of papers? Mom’s attempt to keep ‘em out of mother’s hands, I bet. And there’s her mother’s favorite mug, set precariously on top of a book. She’s been told countless times not to leave it there.

A lance of pain pierces her skull as a voice whispers out, the words bouncing in her head. Why are they here? How did they even get here? A vision -or is it a memory?- bubbles up; of Eda with that exact mug in her hand earlier in the day, in a house that’s not this one; she’d been waving it around, apple blood -wait, that’s not right; mother doesn’t drink that anymore!- sloshing over the rim, as she climbed the stairs to catch up on the sleep she lost the night prior. Perhaps they’re copies? Anyone can have a 30 & Flirty mug...right?

But...why would there need to be copies if they were always meant to be here?

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed. I’m fine. This is fine. Right? She’s preparing to rise when a flicker of movement catches a hold of her attention at the corner of her eye; head instinctively turning to face it. A floor length mirror is propped in a corner of the room, and she started, a chill running down the length of her spine as though someone had poured a trickle of cold water down the back of her shirt as she met the eyes of the mirror image staring back at her. No. She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her, paralyzed; all she can do is rake her eyes over the reflection. What’s wrong? It’s me.

No, no, no. That isn’t me. Familiar; yet a stranger. It isn’t...is it?

The figure in the mirror doesn’t look like her; yet somehow she does.

She’s older; face much thinner than the one that swims to the forefront of her mind, with a barely notable scar on her chin -I didn’t dodge Mira’s attack in time. The two sections of hair framing her face are longer; a hand at the back of her head confirms the rest was still cropped short. However, she freezes when her fingers graze the nape of her neck, fingertips brushing over raised flesh, which continues down the collar of her shirt where two more lines started parallel on either side of the first. There was an accident, she recalls; yet somehow she can’t.

They’re like...claw marks. She shivers at the implications behind that thought. An accident. It was an accident. What...what happened again?

There is a consistent tugging in her head, like the pulling of a string, and a cacophony of whispers bounce in her ears, but she can’t distinguish the individual sounds of the voices calling out. At this point she’s wondering why she isn’t freaking out a bit more. It was as if a wall stood in the way of her emotions -a deadness in her chest that felt like it was creeping further and further outwards, trying to consume her in an all-too-familiar emptiness. All while her mind sinks beneath the depths of the sloshing waves that’s her memories and...another? Which am I?

She chalks the detachment up to the scent in the air. Roses. Mom -Elara!- always smelt of roses; it clung to her, the aromatic scent calming the worst of her fears, and it’s at its most potent when the healer tugs her close as if she were a child in need of her mother’s comfort. Another scent is present in the room as well -chamomile and warm spices. Mother. Eda! And they harmonize with one another, fusing seamlessly into something that briefly warms the emptiness in her chest. It’s almost as though the two women shared this space daily. Because they do. That isn’t possible, right? It is. Eda lives just outside of Bonesborough at the Owl House, while Elara lives here in Knetwell, a whole hour’s travel away from the Owl Lady. No, both of my mothers live here in Knetwell.

They’re not mine...

...I shouldn’t be here, should I?

This isn’t her Eda, or her Elara, or her life, is it? This isn’t right.

It’s someone else's, another her, and it’s only made a little more real when she slowly turns her head to the side to face the nightstand in the same dark wood beside the bed -its twin on the other side, which housed an odd assortment of items she doesn’t dare to acknowledge- where a set of framed pictures grant her a peek into the life of a loving family. Of four very familiar faces. Happy.

One picture stands out. The sky is blue, the background cluttered with bodies that are little blurs of color -odd, she thought. They’re all green haired- but she lies her main focus on the family that is front and center. Eda and Elara stand close together just behind Amelia (because she isn’t Amity here)- who is holding a piece of paper up to the camera that’s written in a language she doesn’t know -a hand on either side of her shoulders, and they’re all donned up. Elara and Amelia are dressed in maroon sheath dresses with a modest cut. Eda, wow...she’s seen her in a suit once before; however, this one is well-tailored, fitting to accentuate the natural curves of her figure, her fiery hair tamed (miraculously!) by the french braid it’s been tied into.

Elara’s crying; she can see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks, and Eda looks on the verge of it, but their smiles are soft, and affectionate, loving. Amelia is smiling wide, gold eyes glittering in relief, like she’s finally found where she belongs. She’s smiling before she realizes it, because somehow the three of them just fit. As if they were always meant to be immortalized in that moment forever. A family.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A voice disrupts her thoughts.

They’re scattered, shredded, and blown away like leaves in the wind. Breath completely stolen. Chest tight with an emotion she can’t grasp. All thanks to her. To the girl -young woman- standing at threshold to the room, hands on her hips, staring at her expectantly. She’s beautiful. The thought sits in her chest like a hot stone, resting on her heart, making it burn and ache and smolder. Free.

Dios, her eyes. The eyes that fixed her with a paralyzing, hypnotic gaze had irises of burnished gold. The sun’s rays shining in from the windows sought out every fleck of gold until they’re a kaleidoscope of shimmering metallics. She is snared in the color of them, the brightness and vibrancy that lives -a familiar softness in their depths; an indescribable warmth that was thriving. There’s not a shred of the uncertainty that lives in Amity to be found; nothing but a solid pillar of confidence that she’d say is all Eda. It seemed that, unlike Amity, she was living instead of merely existing.

And her hair. The natural shade of her hair -brunette, with the light of the sun highlighting the red in it- warmed her features. It was longer too; much longer than Amity’s, reaching below her chest, though she still styled it in the same half-updo as Amity. And she sported the most hopeful, sincere smile she’s never seen grace Amity’s face before. Free, she thought. Free and radiant enough to rival the sun. The same warmth that’s sought out in Elara’s smiles.

Wowsers, she realizes, they have the same smile; it’s at this moment no one on the Isles could ever have thought Elara isn’t her birth mom. Is it a Blight thing to look so similar?

Her eyes roam over her attire. Clad in a maroon sweater that’s oversized on her small frame; slipping down on one side to reveal the pale skin of a bare shoulder -the sweater is awfully familiar, though she can’t quite place where she’s seen it before. And her legs are clad in black leggings that disappear into a pair of black ankle boots. Still so stylish.

This vision isn’t Amity Blight. Amelia Clawthorne. But she’s a welcomed sight nonetheless. A little piece of home, even if it’s not quite her home.

Do you know who- is what wants to be spoken; she nearly bit off her tongue to keep the words from leaving her mouth. The voices in her head rose in volume, a clipped warning in their words, like there’s an interference preventing them from completely getting through to her. Don’t, they say. She doesn’t know. “I...uh…” Completely lost, she couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence. Can’t know, they continue. Must remain secret.

Oddly enough, she listens.

“I was about to come wake you up myself,” her voice -holy bananas- is a smooth, soft timbre, a reverberating hum that melts her guts into goo in her stomach. “Thought I was going to have to call mom; you were muttering a lot in your sleep, almost like you were in pain. And you know how she gets about your...dreams.” The last word rolls off her tongue coated in disbelief, as if she doesn’t quite believe they’re merely dreams. Yeah...I can’t blame you, my friend.

“Uh…” Hi.

“How are you feeling?” Amelia asks, and at the same time appraising her, likely trying to gauge her mental state from her body language.

“Uh…” Say something! “...hi?” Not that!

Amelia hesitates, and the revived uncertainty in her eyes hurts, but it was only a moment’s pause, and then she was moving into the room; closing the distance in a few strides. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She kneels, her hands reaching up to rest on jean-clad knees. The chaste touch burned through her jeans, and she took a deep breath through her nose, wondering what the hell was wrong with her when it came to Amelia. “Was it your dream? Is your headache worse? I may not be a healer like you and mom, but I can still be of help, Lucia.”

“My name is Lucia Clawthorne.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Lucia. The other me. She felt the intrusion of the memories flooding back in like the ripples of a pebble thrown into a pond; she braces for the pain to follow, but it was blessedly absent this time around. Lucia. Her name is Lucia. I’m… Helpless, she felt helpless. And the thought was threatening to choke and paralyze her. She was helpless. Helplessly stranded in a world where she doesn’t belong; left without a way home. Is there one? I’m…

Lilith!

She remembers. A sudden clarity crests the churning waters of her mind; one that could make or break Luz (Luz! Luz is my name!) returning home. Luz Noceda is an alternate world where Lilith isn’t here -Lucia is living a life without the elder Clawthorne present at her side, having sacrificed her for reasons she can’t even remember. And if Luz is here, then that means Lucia Clawthorne is in Luz’s world where Lilith is. What if...what if Lucia doesn’t want to leave?

Lucia lost her Lilith; what’s going to happen to Luz if she doesn’t want to lose her again? Will I be stuck here? Will I lose…

Emotions rush back to Luz as if she’s been out of touch with them, locked away in a place where she couldn’t feel herself bleeding, and now she was breathing too much. The thoughts were piling together in her head, all getting in the way so that they just blocked anything at all from being comprehensible. The voices increased their volume -some trying to reassure her that Lucia wouldn’t do this to her, and some were in agreement with her, saying they’d do the same to have their forgotten back, and the others...a quiet stillness that spoke louder than words ever could. NO!

I can’t lose Lilith. I promised I wouldn’t lose her!

“I…” Luz struggled for words, her ears buzzing and her heart pounding. “I…” She was distantly aware of Amelia’s eyes widening, of her saying the other’s name in a voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of a well, and that was the last thing Luz saw before her temper flared and her vision became tinted with a bloody red. Lucia. With the name that’s not her own ringing in her ears only fueling her rage, she was up and storming halfway across the room toward the mirror before Amelia could react. Lucia. Luz lifts the offending object and precipitously throws it onto the ground. Lucia. The sound of it shattering didn’t bring Luz any satisfaction, but at least now she didn’t have to look at the other’s face. Lucia. Lucia. Lucia.

“Lucia!” Amelia’s hiss was both a reprimand and a question. “What is wrong with you?!”

Luz only stares blankly at the ground; the broken shards of glass stare back at her -a face not her own still looking back at her. Luz felt like her body was tearing itself apart. Her stomach was twisted in knots, and her heart was pounding in her ears, and underneath the anger, Luz could feel the bitter taste of the bleak nothingness that is despair.

Amelia swallows. “Lucia?”

Lucia. A touch on her shoulder, the touch of an Amity who isn’t her Amity, snaps Luz into action and she jerks her shoulder away, a gasp of shock from Amelia as she drops heavily to her knees. Lucia. “Don’t call me that!” She hears herself roar, and something inside Luz snaps again. A sickening smell of iron fills the rose scented room as she slams her fists into the shards of glass. “That’s not my name! Who gave you the right to take her from me?! It’s my life!”

She’s suddenly, irrationally, furious at it.

“Give her back.” Mindlessly, Luz struck out, swinging wildly with her fists. Her breath came in deep gasps and wheezes out of her lungs. She was manic, mindless, lost in madness. “Please. I can’t…”

Lucia is there. And just the mere thought of her makes Luz’s jaw clench tight enough that her teeth grind together, and her thoughts howl, drowning out the voices demanding she calm herself. She ruined everything, she took everything, everything that she had that was worth anything. They’re my family! How could you...why would you...

A steady, throbbing pain pulses through the bones of her hands but she ignores it. She was hellbent on shattering the pieces of mirror to rid herself of her face until she felt a warm arm wrap tightly around her, hauling her away and moving between her and the glass. Luz rains the blows into flesh instead, and they endure it, wrapping their arms around her back, pulling her closer.

“Mom, I-” Amelia says in a strangled voice thick with tears. “I don’t know what happened. She-”

“Don’t you fret about it, kiddo.” Eda’s voice filters in, and Luz’s anger dissipates only for a second, before she’s reminded that it's not her Eda -this Eda doesn’t even know she has a sister. “Shortstack’s got this. Come on, we’ll only get in the way.”

“But...”

“It’s alright, dear one. She just needs a minute.” Elara’s voice came from somewhere near Luz’s left ear, the breath soft and warm, as the healer cradles her, gently yet firmly, to her body. She makes no move to stop Luz’s fists from pummeling her shoulders, as if she were trying to get Luz to exhaust herself. “You must calm down, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting, but you will only do more harm lashing out like this. Breathe for me.”

It’s too damn hard to breathe. She couldn’t cry; the hint of tears welling in her eyes, but refusing to budge. Luz feels like there’s something caught in her throat, sharp and spiky, and she can’t choke it down without it tearing something inside her. Please.

“Ssh, I’m here. I’ve got you,” is breathed against her ear. “Breathe in for me, sweetheart.”

In and out.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe in. One. Two. Three. And eventually, Luz did tire and the healer’s words sunk in. The fight left her, and Luz firmly buries herself into the crook of Elara’s neck; slumping into her warmth as Elara’s hold on her loosens from restraint into an embrace, her fingers tracing soothing circles on her back.

“Life never seems to be dull around here,” Elara seems to hum to herself; Luz’s heart aches that it’s the same soft cadence as her Elara. “Eda is determined to walk herself into an early grave by continuously picking fights with my sister and our dear one.” Luz just knows Elara’s nose has scrunched in displeasure. “And now I must figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

Luz is silent. She went a little too still at the words for it to be played off as a moment of panic; so she lied there, frozen under Elara’s hands. She knows.

“You’re not her. Are you, sweetheart?” Elara queries, a ‘you can’t hide from me’ left unsaid.

“...aren’t I?” Luz falters, considering it. Because when she saw Lucia’s face, it’s Luz’s face; it’s older, and it’s harder, but there’s no mistaking the resemblance. Same brown eyes; they’re brittle, a little duller, but they’re still familiar to her. And for a moment there...I was her.

The voices quiet whispers tell her it’s safe to be honest with her-the Eda and Elara of this world know of The Seer that resides in Lucia’s chest. But Luz is still hesitant...scared even; Elara seems as caring and trustworthy as her own -just as warm and comforting- but it’s still not her Elara. Can I really trust her?

She doesn’t really have a choice at the moment. Do I?

“Lucia doesn’t sound quite right to you.” It felt like a statement, but somehow it lifts at the end like a question.

It doesn't. Because it’s not her name. I’m Luz. Luz Noceda. Right?

Right. Luz hesitates, untucking herself to look at Elara. At first glance, this Elara doesn’t appear all that different from the one in her world. Her eyes are still a molten gold brimming with a comforting warmth; the same glyph still inscribed on her irises, but somehow they’re more gold, like she caught the sun and trapped it behind her eyes. Her lips have the slightest curve of a smile; it’s barely there, but so genuine it makes Luz ache -almost like every smile before had been tethered by an unnoticed sadness.

This Elara is a little older in the face, the little crawls of age at the edge of her eyes, though there’s no signs of gray in her forest green tresses. Wait...how old is Eda and Elara exactly? And what really gets to Luz about her is the fact her hair is pulled up, a few wisps framing her face that Luz is tugging on before she even realizes she’s moved. I never thought I’d see her with her hair up.

The healer didn’t move. She just kept smiling that barely there smile. Patiently waiting for Luz, like her Elara has always done when she’s struggling to get her thoughts in order.

Finally, Luz spoke.

“Luz,” she says quietly. “My name is Luz Noceda.” And I want to go home.

Elara’s eyes briefly widen; something light and alive flickering in her gaze, comforting and safe. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Luz.” It’s soft. Right. And her smile curls more to be identical to Amelia’s. Seriously, what is the deal there?

“Now, I don’t know about you, but these floors aren’t all that comfortable for me, and I need to make sure you haven’t caused serious damage to your hands; so how about we go raid the kitchen for something sweet for you?” Her smile turns mischievous. “If Eda hasn’t stolen it yet, I still have a candy bar stashed away.”

“W-what? That’s it?” Luz croaks. “You...you don’t hate me?”

Elara blinks. “Hate...what -no.” Luz doesn’t even have the chance to flinch when Elara’s hands reach out to cradle the sides of her face, a thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. “Oh sweetheart, no. I could never hate you.”

“But I’m not you d-daughter,” Luz says quickly -panicking- tears brimming before spilling over to run down her cheeks. “I’m not her. Lucia isn’t here...I’m sorry…” She’s trying to shake a feeling from her chest, a throb that cries for home that seems to linger close to her heart. What if she doesn’t want to come back? “I’m so sorry…” She has Lilith with her now.

Elara wipes away her tears; however, she remains quiet.

There’s silence, a disquieting silence.

And then a soft, “I know you’re not her.” Elara says, voice low and sure. “It’s never going to matter to me who you are, because you are mine. So long as you’re here, you will always be a daughter to me; I am always going to love you.”

“But I-” I...what? Don’t love you? Don’t see you as a mom? Luz lowers her eyes -she wants nothing more than to curl into a little ball and sleep, hoping this was merely a dream and soon she’d wake and she’ll be home again. That’s too good to be true, isn’t it? She is going to have to put her trust in Lucia; in that she has the same ache in her chest that throbs for home, even if Lilith is in her reach now. Maybe…

And that’s when she got a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea in her head. Maybe I can find a way to return her Lilith? Then she’ll have no reason to stay in my world! Right?

“Ssh, that's quite enough, darling.” Elara pinches her cheeks lightly between her fingers. “I can see it in your eyes- you’re scared, and you’re lost, and all you want is to go home. This isn’t your fault; you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Elara releases her face; instead taking Luz’s hands in hers. She’s mindful not to apply any pressure. “I must admit, meeting you has been much preferable to when I met Lucia.” Amusement dances in the chuckle she breathes out. “My first introduction to my darling child was made with her fist as well. To my face.”

“W-what?” Luz sniffles, features twisting in disbelief. “Are you saying she hit you?” She roams her eyes over the healer. “But...you're not the least bit threatening.”

“In her defense, she was still coming down from a fright with a man who had cornered her in the alley.” The healer lets one of Luz’s hands rest in her lap, a warm numbing like sensation that tingles when she releases, and draws the other up to examine it more closely. “She punched him, if I remember right. He was running back out of the alley when I tapped her on the shoulder; I must have scared her, because she just turned and...well, broke my nose and her knuckles.”

Ouch. Luz winces, picturing it. “Sounds..uh...like something she’d do. She’s uh….”

“A little rough around the edges?” Elara supplies, releasing Luz’s fingers, the same tingle-like sensation residing there, as she stands. “And speaking of broken knuckles, you massacred your knuckles and your fingers; not to mention the lacerations you received from the glass, but I’ve healed the worst of it. I'm afraid Edalyn doesn’t let me fully heal in my own home anymore, saying it builds character and I baby my children too much.” She rolls her eyes, gently tugging on Luz’s sleeve to encourage her to rise. “Now let’s go get you that candy bar, and a cup of hot chocolate, perhaps? And then we’ll figure out what’s happened together.”

How do you do that? Luz presses her lips together in a thin line, but nods. “I’d...I’d like that.”

Time to find out how I’ll get Lucia’s Lilith back and then go home.

//

“Mom?”

It hasn’t caught up with her yet, the mistake she’s making -by now, the word that rolls off her tongue comes as second nature to her; she hasn’t been just Elara to her in years. At the moment, her thoughts are a little too focused on why she was in her mom’s arms on the floor instead of lying on the comfort of a bed. A nap, she thought. I was going to take a nap. A headache had been forming behind her eyes; she thought lying down would help, but now she ached worse than she did before, like someone had taken her body for a spin in a blender. Ugh, why?

Lucia’s eyelids flutter open.

Heavy.

Dizzy.

Pain pulses from between her eyes in subdued, revolting waves; her body throbbing dully. Wha… Her vision is doubled; two of her mom, both worn and ragged, swam in her sight. Mom? She shifts to reach out for her, or tries, then stalls when she goes light headed from the pain. Ow.

A slither of concern grips Lucia’s heart in a tight squeeze. Why does she look scared? What happened?

“Oh thank the spirits.” Her mom handles her like she’s precious and delicate; with a care one would harbor when handling a china doll. She sounds so relieved and Lucia wants to sob, because she looks so, so tired. She curls around Lucia -arms secure, chest firm, heart strong as she tucks Lucia under her chin. “Oh, sweetie-” sweetie? “-you had me so scared. I thought I was going to lose you.” She shakily exhales, a pained sound that has Lucia on alert. “Where does it hurt? What happened, my love?”

What did happen to me? Where’s Amelia? Wasn’t she in the house with me?

Lucia felt the words echo in her brain -a space that’s suddenly a little too quiet; the other versions of her who occupy her mind, whispering in her ears, are strangely mute. Gone. It’s all starting to slowly catch up with her as she burrows further into her mom’s scent -her nose seeking out the soft notes of her mother, of chamomile and warm spices, but she can’t seem to find any traces of it.

I’m not where I should be.

This isn’t her mom, and Lucia felt herself start to tear up. Her heart cries, and sobs, and aches for home, but she clings to this woman tightly all the same; there’s not a day that goes by she won’t. Because she might not be the one who greets her with a smile and a cup of their favorite tea every morning, or the one who tells her I love you just because she can...she might not be the woman Lucia calls mom, but Elara will always be mom to her.

Lucia has lost too many in her life to waste time on technicalities.

If I’m here, then where is the me of this world? I can’t feel her. I can’t feel...

She felt no one, and the pain she was experiencing was physical; everything throbs and aches and cracks, but worse than that is what she’s missing. The Seer. Lucia always thought she’d give anything to be rid of the foreign pressure that settled behind her ribcage and the constant ‘a price must be paid’, but now that she’s without it...there’s only silence. She’s too uncertain without the reassurance of the other versions of her there to tell her she made the right choices in her life. That she did the best she could under the circumstances. Did I?

The guilt, and horror, and the hatred for what’s she done -Oh Titan, what had I done?- it digs into her, and hollows her out, carving piece after piece after piece away until all that’s left are craters inside that have no hope of being filled with anything but an emptiness of her own doing. What had I done? I’m sorry. Forgive me. Don’t hate me.

Lucia is now hesitant to move away from Ela- no, that’s not right. Mom. She’s fully aware it’s only going to take one glance for the healer to know. Her mom unknowingly taught her how to slip on a mask of calm neutrality; she can pretend to feel certain emotions when in actuality she can’t, but she’s almost certain she can’t ever hope to hide from the eyes that know all. She can’t hide the deep lacerations, the fractures, the missing pieces of her soul from the All-Knowing Sight. She wants to stay here in the cocoon of warmth that’s her mom’s arms for as long as possible. But.

She only needs to take a look over her mom’s shoulder for a second to see Mira Rime pacing the length of the room like a panther stalking its prey, caged eyes aligned on them, to wrench herself out of her mom’s arms in a frantic motion born from panic. NO! And that’s when she makes her second mistake in a matter of seconds. I don’t care, her mind races. I can take the pain. I can ensure this version of me doesn’t have to make the same choice.

Hastily, Lucia reaches out to cradle the sides of her mom’s face; she hears the warning hiss from Mira, but the illusionist’s presence is drowned out by the worn down appearance of her mom. Gold eyes widen immediately at the touch, and it breaks Lucia’s heart -makes her a little angry at herself- to know it’s taken seeing her mom happy and free to only now notice Elara Rime is a little more brittle, a little more hollowed out, than Elara Clawthorne.

It looks wrong; she looks pale -a shadow. Broken.

The little creases in her eyes brought forth by the pain she’s hiding certainly don’t help matters any. If Lucia had any reservations before, they’re silenced by the overwhelming concern flooding her veins, and with complete disregard to this body, Lucia activates the All-Knowing Sight. Instantly, her eyes are searing in agony, because this version isn’t as proficient in the spell’s casting as she is. Oh well. She can’t be bothered to care about the state of her eyes at the moment. I need to be sure.

Lucia remembers. Remembers the day her mind erupted into blinding agony unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Of her mom not even hesitating to take on the worst of the pain after she had already taken the entirety of Amelia’s from her. Dying. She’d been dying. Lucia will not go through that experience again; she will transfer the spell before she’s gripped by the fear of the uncertainty again. I can’t live through it a second time. I won’t.

It only took a split second for her mom to comprehend what she was doing. She goes white, and lunges at her, an urgency in the depths of her eyes. Lucia is faster, though, even in a body that hasn’t been trained by Mira yet -if it even will be- and she catches her mom’s arms at the wrist. And releasing them just as quickly when a pained gasp escapes past the healer’s lips. Wha-

The sound had Mira moving on an instinct that’s been ingrained in her. Springing like a coiled viper, Mira was striking before Lucia could even react, the blunt end of her staff slugging Lucia hard in the stomach -why is she always aiming for my gut?!- knocking her to the ground. She moves in front of her sister, who has curled inwards, to shield her from what she has conceived as a threat as Lucia rolls onto her side, wheezing.

Mira towers over her, face twisted in a snarl. “Don’t you dare put your hands on my sister again, you wretched creature.”

“The same can be said for you, Rime.”

Stopping cold by the low and smokey, but achingly familiar timbre, the air is knocked from her lungs for an entirely different reason at the sound of that voice. It’s her.

Lucia’s head lifts, tears welling in her eyes, as the woman comes close, stepping in front of Lucia to shield her from the illusionist. Lilith. A soft sob tore from Lucia’s throat, her aching body scrambling to get up; to get as close as physically possible to Lilith. She wanted to go to her; wanting to forget everything but finding her way to Lilith’s comforting warmth.

She was here. The real Lilith. Not just a memory given to her by...oh.

Oh. Oh no.

Lucia’s fingers just brush the cotton material of Lilith’s sweater when a pair of hands hook around her midsection, lifting her to her feet and drawing her back against the familiar frame of her mother, Eda. Wait. Lilith glances over her shoulder with the barest tilt of her head, the gray of her eye filled with a thousand promises meant for someone who isn’t even here. Luz. She turns back around to face the illusionist, her staff materializing with a flick of her wrist.

A soft hoot coos in her ear. She felt a familiar weight on her shoulder, little claws hooking into her shirt. Owlbert. The palisman nuzzles up close to press the side of his face against her cheek, the steady thrum of her mother's magic humming against her skin as he chitters softly at her. Hoot, hoot.

This is Luz’s world! The unbound Luz.

Lucia tries to wrestle out of her mother’s hold -she needs to help Lilith. She owes it to Luz to keep her safe until she can return home to keep her promise herself ‘I won’t lose her. Not like you did’. She can’t remember the whys or hows that came to be for her to lose her Lilith, but Lucia Clawthorne will be damned if she’s the reason Luz loses her too. You won’t lose her. You won’t become me.

“Yeesh, kid. Easy. It’s just me.” Her mother manages her flailing hands easily, keeping them down and away. “You alright? Are you hurt?”

Lilith. No, no, no.

“Let me go, mo- Eda,” Lucia argues, nearly choking on the name -it tastes all sorts of wrong; a betrayal to what the woman represents in Lucia’s life. “I need to...she needs...do you even care about what she’s going up against? It’s Mira. She won’t win!”

It'll appear, Lucia grouses, that her mother does not, in fact, care. 

“Ha. Oh, kid. As cute as it is to know how much Lily means to you,” Her mother murmurs into her ear, hands clutching fistfuls of Lucia’s hoodie to contain the wiggling body in her arms. “We won’t be of much help to her either. But don’t you worry; Mira can’t touch Lily. Trust me on this one, Luz; Mira will walk into her own grave before she makes that mistake again.”

You’re wrong. Lucia doesn’t trust her on this one; she knows Mira. Lilith isn’t safe.

Even in her futile struggles to be freed from her mother, Lucia notices. An odd noise, a grinding, like the sound a frozen lake makes when the ice cracks beneath your feet before the water swallows you down into its icy depths. Lucia can feel the familiar crackling in the air, like static, as Mira relaxes her posture, shifting to lean against her staff lazily instead of wielding it like the weapon Lucia knew it was. It’s a ploy of hers; tricking her prey into letting their guard down around her.

Which is an unwise move, in Lucia’s humble opinion. If she’s taught me anything, it’s that you never let yourself be fooled by someone’s body language. And always hit ‘em where it’s going to hurt.

“Clawthorne.” Mira greets acidly.

“Rime.” Lilith returns with almost equal fervor.

And, okay, Lucia thought her mother spelt trouble with Mira, but an icy distance hung between Lilith and Mira that’s never been present with her mother -someone she very muchly so wants dead.

A tension so tangible you could cut it with a knife. Yeesh.

“Well, well,” her nose upturned, mouth calcified into its trademark sneer, Mira was the very picture of someone out for blood. “Why am I not surprised you’re still only coming around my sister when it’s convenient for you, hm?”

“Isn’t that all you do?” Lilith immediately deflects, her voice almost even. “Suppose I shouldn’t be any more surprised you’re attacking defenseless children these days. Has the Emperor not given you enough lives to slaughter?”

“Now, now, Clawthorne,” Mira answers candidly. “Attacking is more your forte, is it not?”

Lilith flinches as if struck. “...excuse me?”

“Oh, come now, don’t be shy.” Mira grins, wide and feral; a cat that ate the canary. “Was my sister not your first victim?” What?! “Though, I must admit, I was surprised and impressed when I heard you used the human against your own sister.” Her words acquire an icy edge. They lash. They lunge. They were intended to hurt. “Hurting those you care about just comes so naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

Lilith is silent.

Leave it to Mira to strike where it hurts, Lucia thought, wincing in sympathy at the subtle hitch in Lilith’s shoulders.

“Oh yes, the Emperor informed us of your failure, leader,” Mira titters, the mocking of the title discernible within the toneless notes of her voice. “How, even though she was weakened and so, so fragile, you still weren’t half the witch your little sister was. How pathetic.”

Everything was on a tightrope, the line just ready to snap.

The subtle little twitch at the corner of Mira’s mouth meant she felt it too.

She wanted to fight, Lucia knew it. Don’t you, Lilith?

“Pathetic, you say?” Lilith scoffs, laughing so mirthlessly that the sound was feral, almost inhuman. “Then how pathetic are you, oh most feared of the High Council?” her voice is now shrill, now angry, now hoarse -her throat wrenched with its own rage. “Afraid of a child, are we? Is that why you must attack her unprovoked? Threaten her?"

As her voice rose, it was just as quickly stifled.

Choked.

Lucia wants to move forward. She wants to cling to Lilith’s sweater, breathe in her scent, and promise her over and over again that it’s okay to forgive herself for whatever it is she’s done in the past. It’s the old her surfacing, the part of her she can’t stomach the thought of it -her hopeless optimism was the reason her friends were nothing more than a name on a tombstone today. It’s the natural born healer in her, the part of her shaped and molded to be one of the best by her mom’s hands.

“What are you going to do about it, hit me?” The illusionist’s smile was faint as her eyes languidly roamed over Lilith’s figure. “I’d like to see you try, dear.”

It was a taunt if Lucia ever heard one. Her intentions were for Lilith to hit her. To make the first move. ‘I like to push people till they break without the use of my magic. It’s so much more satisfying, young one.’

“Mira, no. Please.” Her mom cuts in. Her forehead rests against the back of the illusionist’s leg, an arm curling around her thigh. “Enough.”

And then, as suddenly as it appeared, the tension vanishes.

Mira’s face scrunches in displeasure; then she falls silent, a noticeable drop in her shoulders. She cants her head to the side as she peers at Lilith for a long moment, a hand absently reaching behind her to brush against the side of her twin’s face. ‘She’s my noise in the silence; just as I’m her silence in the noise.’

Lucia studies one witch and then the other, not sure who would give ground first. Their magic had quieted the moment her mom spoke -it’ll never cease to amaze Lucia that someone as powerful and headstrong as Mira falls utterly compliant at the hands of her sister. Elara is the air Mira needs to breathe; her life’s blood -one word, one touch, and Mira Rime is the same mess of mushy emotions as her mother. Yeesh. They’re so weak for her.

It’s also rare to witness her mom quiet Mira; the illusionist is normally all bark in the presence of her sister -that is, so long as no one’s threatening her twin; if not, Mira has little care about those in a room with her. And she’s never once bothered to come between her mother and Mira when they get into their spats, willing to let them blow off steam as they see fit. ‘They’ll just be back at it tomorrow,’ she always says. Perhaps the little fact Mira can’t harm Eda no matter how hard she tries -and tries she does- has something to do with it. While Lilith, on the other hand, doesn’t stand much of a chance against the illusionist, and Mira does look like she wants to bury the midnight haired witch six feet in the ground.

What is it about Lilith she doesn’t like? A strand of hate in her eyes Lucia’s only seen at the mention of Belos. Does it have to do with what she said?

“If you two are done flirting now,” her mother announces suddenly, startling Lucia. “I’d like to know why you-” an arm draped over Lucia to point an accusing finger at Owlbert, who was still perched on Lucia’s shoulder, and then poked said finger against Lucia’s cheek. “-would help her go sneaking out of the house. And why it was so important for you-” the finger pressed down a bit firmer on her cheek. “-to plot against us by drugging Lily-” Oh my spirits, Luz drugged Lilith?! “-to go see her.” And then the finger removed itself to point accusingly at the healer hidden behind her sister’s legs.

Fuck. “Uh…” Lucia mutters, blinking. Say something! “...hi?” Not that!

Mira scoffs. “I see you’ve trained your human to be as articulate as you, Clawthorne.” To which Clawthorne she was referring to was undetermined, but both bristled nonetheless.

“Hey.” Her mother says sarcastically, and Lucia can hear the grin in her words. “I speak greatly. Much words, thank you very many.”

Mira raises a brow, but otherwise ignores her mother.

Lucia blinks, staring at Mira for a moment longer, the illusionist waiting for her palisman to curl around her arm before she waves her staff away with a flick of her wrist. She turns to reach down to gather her sister in her arms, but her mom was quick to swat at her hands.

It’s so typical of her that Lucia wants to blow her cover and strangle some sense into her mom.

“I’m fine.” Her mom insists. Lies. It’s soft and weak and rough, and it’s a sound that shreds Lucia’s heart. “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you.”

She is also fairly passive-agressive when she's in pain. Lucia learned early on that Blights have a temper -case and point, one Amelia Clawthorne- and her mom is no exception to this. It's scary. A cold sort of fury that makes even Eda tuck tail and run. 

Truly, the fiercest of the twins is Elara. And Poppy is the Rime one should fear most out of them all. 

“My dear, please.” Mira growls lowly, reeling back on her heels reluctantly. “Your wrists…”

“It looks worse than it is, I assure you, Mira dear.” Says her mom off-handedly. “You can cease your fretting over me now. I’m perfectly fine.” Liar.

Lucia’s eyes instinctively linger once more on Lilith. In the flesh. A few feet away. Alive. The name is reverently coiling in her chest beside her beating heart. She wants to capture...well, everything about this woman; something real that’s hers when she returns to a home that’s been emptied of her.

Lilith watches the sisters for a moment longer, a caution in her stance; when nothing follows after several heartbeats, she waves her own staff away, stepping forward. “I am in agreement with Edalyn. What is going on here?” Brave -foolish- she is to ignore the look the illusionist levels at her, Lilith knelt; carefully gathering the healer’s hands in hers. Lucia expected her mom to reject her -prepared for it, even, because she’s never been the type to let others worry over her- instead, her mom melts at Lilith’s touch. “And what did this to your wrists?”

Lucia’s lower jaw unhinges. Shocked.

Her mom just...she doesn’t melt at such a simple act. The Elara Lucia knows takes some convincing for her to melt into them. Lucia in the way she burrows herself under her mom’s chin and quietly asks for all the love she can offer. Amelia in the way she sometimes says mom, the sound reverent and soft and warm; like she’s a little bit shocked she can. Her mother in the way she draws her in and whispers words Lucia can’t hear until her wife is like putty in her hands. ‘Trade secret,’ her mother always says.

Yet Lilith has rendered Elara into a puddle of gooey mess by simply holding her hands.

The little, subtle creases of pain at the corners of her mom’s eyes smooth away, as though Lilith is the healing salve to her wounds -her eyes lit from within, a tiny sun captured in the golden depths; it’s reverence, and relief, and something like a promise. The uncommon sight of the displeased frown on her mom’s face spreads into a grin, then softens, turning into a barely there smile which drifts across her face gently -an all-too-familiar smile; a Rime smile. One meant for those they hold near and dear to their heart. Family.

Lilith looks at Elara like it hurts. Like she’s the all sorts of wrong that’s in the world and can’t quite believe something as right as Elara lets her close.

Elara looks at Lilith like she’s everything. Like the entire world broke beneath her feet and Lilith put it back together.

From somewhere between a second and a lifetime, Lucia’s heart stops.

‘Being in love doesn’t always mean you’re meant to be.’ And...well, okay. Lucia is finally understanding what her mom meant by that. Because Eda and Elara might be disgustingly in love with their Hallmark movie ending, but it’s Lilith who was meant for her mom. The lost piece of her heart. Her soulmate, if Lucia still believed in that sort of thing.

Her heart starts in a tha-thump, tha-thump that throbs with guilt; her insides seeming to freeze and condense into a tiny ball that settles somewhere low in her gut. I took that away from her.

Mira’s voice -thankfully- dislodges those oppressive thoughts.

Her lips curl. “I’d ask your human.”

Wha-

Looking down automatically, Lucia gasps in shock at the liberal smears of red that coats her fingers and palms, caked under her fingernails as if she’d been clawing at… Wha- how? I did this? With a worried frown, she tries to recall what she’d done that could have caused this -and immediately wishes she hadn’t, as a revolting wave of pain crashes over her. Ow...is this what happened to Luz? The reason I’m here? It’s a jarring pain, like something was trying to make itself fit in a space it couldn’t.

How? Lucia bows her head, sick to her stomach. How has this come to be? Is...is Luz in my body?

...well, shit. Now what?

//

The Empress of the Isles -once merely known as the Owl Lady to most; Edalyn Clawthorne to those who mattered- stares intently at the kid -not her kid, but not not her kid- from her perch on the dark leather wingback chair’s armrest; watching the play of emotions gleam and flicker in the startled reflection of the mahogany gaze.

Lucia -Luz- mouth open wider than a centaur’s and staring at Eda as if she were a ghost, was seated on the couch, a white-knuckled grip around the mug she clutched close to her chest. Her wife’s preferred candy bar was set in front of her on the coffee table, along with a plate of cookies Elara’s mother brought over the other day and a sandwich with the crust cut off. My wife is already babying her new baby. Eda almost thought she was going to have to take the knife away from Elara if she started to cut it into little triangles. Kid’s in shock, not two.

A stranger stares back at her.

Her eyes are different -still brown, still wide- but there’s something else in them, something lurking just beneath the color.

A simple glance, a knowing, was all that’s needed for Eda to confirm Lucia is gone.

There’s no bitterness in their depths; no anger at the edges. Her light, her Lucia, is made up of sharp edges -hard and present- and she’d gotten so good at hiding behind a calm neutrality -so much like the healer she’s come to call mom- so good at tucking away the guilt and the regrets that Eda couldn’t begin to understand until they’d only be able to see them out of the corner of their eye, or much too late. Eyes that once expressed joy and wonder; now only ask Eda for forgiveness.

What did it make you do? The question has been perched on her lips since Lucia had first looked at her with those eyes, but it could not be voiced -the words got tangled on her tongue; a fear taking hold of her heart. I couldn’t protect you from it. Whatever it was...Eda couldn’t protect her kid. I failed you.

Luz might wear her daughter’s face, yes, but it’s obvious her edges are rounded; sanded down until they’re smooth and polished. She’s softer. For how long, I don’t know. Staring at her with big eyes -warm and dark, and filled with sundry stars. Soft, soft eyes. Yet something else lurks in their depths. Confusion. Fear. And...

“What right did you have to take her from me?! Give her back!” So full of hate.

Hate for my kid, right? It joins the other question perched on her lips, but she won’t voice it just yet; she wants to know if Luz is as secretive as Lucia -if she can lie to Eda’s face with lackluster eyes. There’s someone back home that you’re afraid she’ll stay for. Someone important to you who isn’t here.

Eda strays from those eyes, head leaning back to catch a glance of Elara, who was sweeping across the kitchen to rummage through a cabinet and come up with a kettle. She’s not clingy (she’s not!) but she can’t say she hasn’t noticed the healer keeping her just out of her reach. Has been since coming down the stairs hand in hand with a nervous Luz, explaining the situation without actually explaining it, before going about treating the last of the wounds on Luz’s hands and feeding her like the mother hen she is. The well-being of her children -yes, even alternate versions of them it seems- will always come before any of Eda’s needs. Eda would never begrudge her of that -not after what she’s lost; what they’ve both lost. But.

She felt a touch off-kilter at the moment. Since rekindling what they once had, Eda has grown accustomed to the various forms of affection her wife lavishes on her without a thought -a subtle tap on her wrist to quell her temper, a stroke down her arm to let her know she’s there, a kiss at the corner of her mouth that promises more later, and -her favorite- the soft warmth of her when she leans against her side. Suddenly not having it… Yeesh, maybe I am clingy.

The why behind her reasoning is a simple enough answer to solve. Who’s to say we’re married in Luz’s life? She doesn’t want to put her through any more shock. Which is unfair, but she understands.

Luz doesn’t look at her wife like she’s off. Like she’s not hers. The kid doesn’t flinch at the sight of Elara; she can stroke her arm and loosen the tension wound tight in the kid’s shoulders, and can offer a soft, comforting smile that diminishes the fear in her soft eyes. Elara is the one certainty this kid has right now in a world not her own; the one person who looks similar to her Elara that she’s clinging to like she’s her safe haven. Eda, on the other hand, isn’t.

She has a fairly good idea as to why that is. The curse.

She knows what Luz is paying critical attention to, like the solar fire of her short hair -the goblin is to blame for the state of her hair; she could have grown it back in no time, but the look on Elara’s face was well worth the loss. Like the color of her eyes, both shaded gold that seemed to be lit from within, the fire of her rekindled magic behind tinted lantern glass, flickering with life. Like how young Eda now appears; any signs of aging seemingly stalled and the creases that once blemished her face smoothed out.

They’re the same age, her and Elara, and though the healer doesn’t look her age -they’re well past their fifties and all her wife has to show for it are the tiny creases at the edges of her eyes- Eda looks years younger than her wife. ‘People are going to talk someday,' Elara likes to joke.

Eda can’t wait.

And lastly, the little, inconspicuous -okay, to anyone who knows her it’s glaringly obvious- detail that she no longer prowls around in stained sweaters, ripped dresses, and whatever she felt like on any given day. She’s the Empress. In a new age of magic. It was made abundantly clear she was to dress the part as well. Which meant tailored suits -nice, she’ll admit, though irksome at times and, if you ask Eda, pointless when that damn cloak hides it all- with an owl mask to shield her face -it’s just how it is, apparently; even if everyone on the Isles knows it’s her. And marrying the Isles’ prodigal healer and moving to the snooty side also meant a change in attire. Fitted sweaters, blouses, and dress pants. All in shades of gold, white, black, and her signature red.

So, yeah, Eda can’t blame the kid. Actually, she felt sympathetic, understanding. She doesn’t need to draw up assumptions as to what’s going through Luz’s head right now, because they can’t be any different from what went through Eda’s -it took quite a bit of time for her to adjust to the person staring back at her in the mirror. Took even longer to acclimate to a body suddenly alive with the overabundance of magical energy; just as it had been when she took it for granted in her younger years. She’d forgotten what it felt like. For so long -so, so long- Eda only knew what it meant to feel drained; made worse as the years went by and she remained cursed. She’d been tired and lethargic, hiding it all behind witty humor and false smiles because she thought she needed to be strong for everyone. But I wasn’t...

...I was weak. Her magic had been slipping right through her fingers, and she’d been powerless to stop it, slowly succumbing to the beast within. And for a while I welcomed it. The day she let the last of her magic be consumed by the owl beast so that Lucia was safely returned...relief had flooded her. The fight was finally over for her. She was free. Free of the pain and the fear of what tomorrow could mean for her, of the silence closing in on her, of the beast clawing for its freedom. It was all just gone.

Until I was right back where I started. She doesn’t let herself dwell on that line of thought for long.

So stuck in her head was Eda, trying to come up with a solution to make this easier on Luz, that it came as a shock when Elara’s fingers stroked from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. Eda shivers, feeling her skin heat under the touch. Gracing her wife with one of her little knowing smiles, Elara hands her a mug of hot leaf water; then her warmth is gone.

Eda bit back a whine. Yeah, definitely clingy.

Elara doesn’t take her customary place in the chair like Eda presumed she would; instead, the healer settles in the space beside Luz, a knee tucked up against her because my wife can’t not be touching someone. She’s momentarily absorbed in drinking her tea and smiling with her eyes over the rim of her cup at Eda, that little sparkle of mischief Eda knows all too well gleaming bright. She’s relishing in Eda’s rare moment of awkwardness; of her neediness, Eda knows it. And they say I’m the bad influence on our children. Ha! If only.

Luz didn’t react, eyes still roving instead over every part of Eda that’s not quite right to her.

...and, well, Eda doesn’t cope well with long periods of silence. They had that little vexatious ability to close in on her. Suffocate.

“So...she’s Luz…” Eda says, raising an eyebrow. “And our kid is off doing who knows what in her world? I heard that right?” Can’t leave her alone for a single second, can I?

“That is what it appears to be, yes.” Elara lowers her cup, still smiling. “Curious, isn’t it?”

“Not the c-word I’d have gone with, shorty, but sure, why not?” She snarks and feels her lips quirk at the low snort her wife emits. “So...this isn’t a body swap fiasco we’re dealing with, is it? I may have told Lucia if she outclassed me in my own spell I’d take her to the trees of old, but this seems a little...excessive, even for her.”

Finally, the not not her kid moves.

“Body swap?” Luz jerks, startled, eyes growing impossibly wider. “Body swap-”

“-it’s most definitely not a body swap situation, sweetheart,” Elara smoothly cuts across Luz -equally soothing and causing a panic in her- and the kid makes a pensive, little whimper in the back of her throat. “Also,” Eda’s eyes are rolling already because she knows that tone. “You did what?”

That tone is all Primrose Rime; the kind of tone a mom takes when her child is up to something they shouldn’t be. The one Elara is exceedingly good at after years of using it on her younger siblings. And Mira.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Eda drawls, taking a sip of the leaf water, her face scrunching in disgust at the taste. The sacrifices I make for this woman. Bleh. “You’re not the only one who gets to teach our kids dangerous magic you know.”

A soft scoff is muttered at the same time Luz quietly squeaks ‘dangerous?’ under her breath.

“My spells are hardly dangerous.” Eda stares at her wife for several heartbeats, her eyebrow slowly lifting as the seconds ticked by, and then Elara’s face sort of...scrunches. A little. Displeased. “Very well. Yes. Some. Some are a touch dangerous,” she admits. “However, only when they’re irresponsibly casted, and I’ve ensured our daughter is aware of any consequences she may face when casting those spells.” A frown. “Have you?”

There really should be a law against her finding it cute when her wife’s hidden temper slips through the cracks, Eda thinks, and bites the inside of her lip hard to keep from smiling. “Eh, I gave her the basics; up to her to figure out the rest.” She shrugs. “What’s the harm in a little body swap spell anyway?”

“Wow,” Luz half-blurts, and then she can’t seem to find a single syllable after it, so she shuts her mouth with a faint click of her teeth, and instead turns to Elara; completely befuddled. “Why am I even shocked by this? This is how I’ve been learning magic since I came to the Isles.”

Elara’s expression quickly morphs into one of thinly veiled amusement. “Nice to know I didn’t wind up with the defective one,” she drawls, a hand reaching out to pat her arm. “This, Edalyn,” and then her wife rounds on her; it’s not easy to keep a straight face with the look she’s getting now -the delicious annoyance that’s creasing her features- but she manages somehow. “This could very well happen since our daughter does take after you in the ‘I can’t go a day without finding some mischief to get up to’ department.”

“But it isn’t the reason,” Eda counters smoothly. "You said it yourself, hon." And she lets the smile slip through when Elara growls. An actual, legit growl. “So care to explain how this is possible? Should this even be possible?” Her head cants. “Please tell me our kid would have warned us she could go body hopping in the other hers this entire time.”

Luz answers in place of the healer, whose eyes narrow into slits in a warning at her wife before softening as they lock on their not not kid. “They say it shouldn’t be possible.” She bits her lip, unsure. “If it were, any one of them could…” She fell silent, contemplative. Scared.

So she can hear them, the other hers. Eda takes another sip; maybe she’ll get used to the taste at this rate. That’s a terrifying thought. She shudders. “Alright, and what of The Seer? Surely it can tell you how to do a switcheroo then.”

“I...I don’t think I can hear it?” Luz whispers, a trembling note in her voice as she tries to convey exactly just how serious she is being. “I know from Lucia how it should sound,” and then, as though it was an afterthought, added, “The others...it’s like there’s interference. I can barely hear what they’re saying as it is.”

“Interesting.” Ah, there’s the healer. Always picking brains, that one. “Can you tell us what happened before you awoke? It may help us find out how you’re here.”

Luz goes very still, and her face is so pale and drawn that it physically hurts to look at. She draws back in on herself, clutching the mug closer to her chest as if it’s some kind of shield, and stares into its steaming contents instead of looking up.

“You can just give us the nitty-gritty, kid.” Eda joins back in, heart shredding under the weight of too many emotions. Kid looks like she went through hell. “We don’t need the whole story if it’s too painful to talk about.”

“It’s not that,” Luz offers quietly. “I went to see you..er, my Elara…”

The story she weaves is one familiar to them; Eda tunes most of it out, but listens out for any signs of divergence from Lucia. She recalls the irritation rising to dangerous levels over a loss object she couldn’t even know what it was she was losing sleep for. A lost scroll that sent her kid spiraling down in her panic; scared and in need of assurance the healer was safe. Alive.

Not that, Eda admits. I was any better when I found out.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Elara’s frowning at her in an unusually stern, serious way. “She never should have told you. I never should have told Lucia.”

“No, no.” Vehemently, Luz shakes her head. “She was alone. You..she...both are always helping someone in need, putting people back together, but who helped you?”

The ‘it shouldn’t have been you’ was written all over her wife’s face, but Luz either couldn’t see it or dismisses it as she continues, “I wanted to help, and I needed to see her with my own eyes.” Luz’s voice is weaker now, choking. “And I couldn’t tell th-” She fumbles, as if realizing she was going to reveal something meant to be unspoken. “I couldn’t tell Eda; I promised to keep it a secret. So I waited for her to fall asleep… then took Owlbert and flew to her house without anyone knowing, and I met…”

“...my sister, Mira.” Elara murmurs tentatively. Her features were guarded, revealing nothing of what she might be thinking. If Eda was to take a guess, she’d say her wife was reliving the moment Lucia first met her twin; the moment she knew without a shadow of a doubt the little human was hers.

“It was only for a second. She looked so...caged.” Luz says, eyebrows pinched together in the center. She seemed unsure and...scared. So scared.

Elara still hasn’t reacted -settled somewhere between resignation and acceptance. Her lack of surprise had the words tripping over themselves on Eda’s tongue to tumble back down her throat, and the silence that followed was almost deafening. Eda had scarcely allowed herself to move or breathe as Luz’s tale finally veered from Lucia’s.

“...and then…” A pause. “There were memories that weren’t mine. And a lot of pain. And when I woke up, I wasn’t where I should be.” There’s something else she wouldn’t add, her mouth opening as if to voice the words, but decides at the last minute to remain quiet. Huh.

“I think,” Elara began.

Two sets of eyes gave her their full attention.

“I think we may have a bit of a problem on our hands.” Elara says; she straightens. “More than I initially thought.”

Eda’s mind races. “...what?”

“You said you can’t hear The Seer.” Elara turns an inquisitive stare on Luz. “This is only a theory,” she says slowly. “The Seer of this universe is tied to Lucia; not you -it may very well want nothing to do with you and is attempting to separate you from what remains of our daughter, as if you’re a parasite of sorts in her systems. I say this, because you are only a small fragment within her, and what little there is of you seems to be trying to…”

“...merge with her, right?” Luz finishes for her.

“Say what now?” Eda quickly glances at Luz; she doesn’t seem surprised by the words -it’s like she expected to hear it. Is that what you were going to keep quiet about, kid? “What are you saying, shortstack? That Luz is becoming Lucia?”

“I can’t say with absolute certainty that it’s true; I could be misunderstanding the situation.” Fat chance there, love. “From what I can see, Lucia’s soul is still here, yet the part of her that makes Lucia Lucia is missing -most likely residing in Luz.” Elara shakes her head at the jumble of words, but presses on, growing more confident as she goes. “If losing sight of who you are is what’s happening here, then it’s not too far-fetched to say The Seer is going to do everything it can to prevent it -it wants nothing to do with you, yes, but it doesn’t want you gone, either. It’s going to cut you off from the other yous, lest you lose yourself to them as well. It’s going to sever you from Lucia.”

“What’s that got to do with The Seer giving Luz the cold shoulder?” Eda clenches her jaw and glances at Luz. The kid’s face is twisted in concern and something else, but she’s listening as she stares into the depths of her mug like it has all the answers. Shaking her head, Eda’s gaze slid back to her wife.

“Severing her from Lucia entails the severing of the connection to The Seer as well.” Elara pauses, considering a thought. “You are the other version our daughter was chosen to speak with, correct?”

“Yes?” Luz looks entirely lost -you and me both, kid- then she regards Elara blankly. “She’s by far the worst multiverse tour guide I’ve ever had.”

Eda slurps her leaf water loudly to mask the snicker. Ha. Oh, we should keep her.

Elara, meanwhile, chuckles. “You can blame her mother for her ‘less talk, more action’ approach to any given situation,” she offers unhelpfully, and gives a half-grin while leaning back against the couch. “The reason I ask is Lucia and the others seem to run on the notion that The Seer is the one linked to the others; the reason behind how they’re connected as well.”

“You don’t agree.” Luz assesses. She takes a tentative sip of her hot chocolate, a little oh escaping her. And she starts to eye the snacks over the rim of her mug, deciding which she should dive into first.

“I don’t.” Elara nods; eyes warming at the cute little grabbing motion Luz makes as she goes for the candy bar. “If that were so, why would it need you to come into contact with those who haven’t located The Seer before they find it? I am of the opinion it’s your connection that binds The Seer to its other versions. Once Lucia spoke with you, I noticed a fragment of a soul similar to hers was tethered to her. You. A very, very small piece of you." She smiles gently. "It's how I immediately knew you weren't our Lucia."

Luz stills, hand hovering over her targeted item. “Which means…”

“...she unknowingly bound your soul to hers when she sought you out at The Seer’s insistence,” Elara finishes for her. “How you’re here isn’t too hard to figure out-”

“-it isn’t?” Eda cuts in, an eyebrow raising.

Another look is thrown at her; Eda can’t help the giddy feeling in her chest that thrives on the sight of the little tic in her wife’s jaw that gives away her dwindling patience with Eda. “Lucia is The Seer’s cracked door into the connection with the other in Luz’s universe. Lucia is the one tied to Luz; if it was The Seer who connected them all, this could’ve happened to any version of them, but it just so happens to be our daughter. Her first contact with the others.”

Luz stares at her -puzzled, floored, and somehow, incredibly enough, disbelieving all at once. “...it couldn’t just be, I don’t know, a coincidence?”

“I can’t say I believe in coincidences all that much, sweetheart.” Elara returns, very softly, very gently. Eda’s inclined to agree with her; it’s never a simple coincidence when the Clawthornes are involved. “Everything happens for a reason. Your tie to Lucia may perhaps be stronger than it’s ever been for the others; assuming it’s accurate when they say this shouldn’t be possible.”

Eda blinks, now entirely lost. “Okaay,” she draws the word out, dragging the syllables just to catch another glimpse of that tic in her wife’s jaw. “...then how do we switch ‘em back?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” and Elara’s smile -that beatific, perfect, clandestine smile- slid, like melting ice, from her mouth. “My assumption would be that Luz must connect with The Seer in hopes of contacting Lucia, or-” she hesitates slightly. “-Lucia must connect with The Seer of Luz’s world and contact Luz first. But that’s only a guess.”

“So either way that good-for-nothing trinket has to be involved,” Eda mutters, seemingly to herself. And it’ll need to be done before Luz possibly merges with Lucia. Will trying to connect with The Seer speed the process up?

“Again, it’s only a guess,” Elara returns evenly. “I could be wrong about this.”

“You’re not usually wrong,” Those mahogany eyes turn inward for a moment, and Luz’s head cocks in thought. “What...what can you tell me about The Seer? Do you...do you know what it is?”

“You don’t?” Eda dryly returns. Don’t tell me she isn’t bound to The Seer.

“No,” Luz simply says. She croaks it. “All I know is they-” the other hers, Eda presumes. “-all seem to think I… But I...no. I can’t.” Panic violates the smooth youthfulness of her face, tearing it all asunder.

No. She isn’t. Horror claws its way up the cylinder of Eda’s throat. Not even bound and that worthless trinket is causing trouble for her.

And Elara stares at Luz intently -with open tenderness and rawness and aching disbelief. “Luz,” her wife’s tone is gentle -strained- as she reaches out to carefully tap the girl on the knee. “Are you not bound to your world’s Seer?”

“I’m not,” Luz replies certainly, but then just as immediately says, “And I don’t want to be, but I need to know what it is. So can you tell me?”

“I’m afraid there’s not a whole lot we can tell you.” Elara hums reluctantly, and this in and of itself was an uncontrived phenomenon, for Elara was never reluctant.

“Why?” One word; it’s almost accusatory. Teetering close to the edge of being rage; the straying thought they purposely intend to keep the information from her, when it’s quite the opposite actually.

Elara doesn’t have the answers to the deeper questions lurking in Luz’s eyes.

And Eda found that she didn’t want her to.

Because it kills Elara to not know, but Eda doesn’t want to find out what it’d do to her to know and still be so useless. Her wife’s whole spiel is helping others (ugh, healers and their kind hearts), but she can’t when it comes to The Seer and what it’s done -continues to do- to their kid. At least this way she can trick herself into believing it's because she doesn’t yet know how to.

The seconds ticking by in the healer’s continued silence strangle themselves in the cylinder of Eda’s throat. Awful, awful silence.

Eda can’t sit in silence.

“Easy there, kid,” is the response, and there was a brusqueness in her otherwise smooth voice that reminded her of her mother -the one who was never caring enough to deserve that title; the woman Eda will never let near her children. “I’m fully on board with the whole ‘I won’t join your cult’ plan. Down with the system, am I right?”

Luz blinks at her. Just blinks. Tough crowd. However, Luz wasn’t her intended target -it’s her wife; a heart stuttering set of gold eyes finding hers, and the healer’s expression seemed to subtly transform, the heaviness in it unfurling.

You’re an idiot, the corner of Elara’s lip slightly lifted in the sliver of a gentle smile.

Love you, the answer was immediate, unflinching, in the shaping of the smirk on Eda’s mouth.

“Wowsers.” It’s another half-blurt response from Luz; effectively securing their attention because how fucking long has it been since Lucia said that exact word? She gapes at them, eyes bouncing between the two like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “You...right. It’s different here,” she murmurs, and now sounds a little embarrassed. Sad. “I’m just...I never thought...you two work. I mean, obviously you do, and obviously you know. Because you’re together and you’re married, and married means you work...and yeah,” a breath, "and I've been talking too much."

The stammer, Eda thinks, is too fucking precious for this world.

“It’s still up for debate.” Elara lowers her eyes to stare down at the amber liquid as she swirls it around her cup; not Eda’s choice in beverage, but the floral blend she brewed for them has always been her comfort in all the years Eda’s known her. “She takes up more space in the bed then you’d think is possible, snores like she can’t get enough air in, has a hoarder mentality, can’t sit still to save her life, must always find some reason to cause mayhem on game night,” a sip, and she turns in place; leaning back against the couch and meeting Luz’s eyes. “Oh, and we mustn’t forget that she loves to antagonize my sister; if we weren’t bound, I’d be under the assumption they’re flirting with one another.”

Not exactly subtle barbs. But going by that familiar gleam in her wife’s eyes, it’s all harmless; managing to draw a snort from Eda in return. Oh, what she’d give to share with Luz all of Elara’s little quirks, but her wife knows her oh so well and was already moving away from that discussion and back onto the original topic at hand. Oh ho, you just wait.

“Now it’s unclear whether it’s The Seer itself or the witch who created it designed it to act as so,” Elara began again, each word slow and precise, maneuvered carefully on her lilting tongue. “But The Seer seems to thrive on keeping any information about its existence away from anyone who isn’t its host.”

Luz’s brow furrows. “What for?”

“Because it likes its secrets.” Eda says flatly. “Like a couple of certain other people I know.”

Elara grins her incredibly wide grin, unperturbed. “I didn’t keep secrets from you, my love; you just never asked the right questions.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eda waves her off, plopping sideways in the chair with her legs thrown over an arm. “That’s not going to work forever, y’know. I’ve asked; there’s only so many ways one can ask ‘what is the secret ingredient in your mother’s cookies’-” she points at the plate of cookies; then up to Luz. “-which you need to try-” and then settles both hands around the warmth of her mug. “-before one starts thinking ‘oh, this little shit-”

“-language, Edalyn.”

Wha- Eda almost keels over from shock. The words weren’t her wife’s gentle chiding wrapped in melodic notes, but from the low, soft timbre of Luz’s voice. It’s not that she’s said it -Lucia morphs into a little saint when Elara is in the room- but how she said it; something so familiar it aches. The way those words were uttered struck a painful, longing chord in the hole in her heart, a lost piece of herself she can’t fill no matter what she does. Why?

Luz seems as shocked as Eda, eyes wide and unguarded and filled with pure terror. Like she’s heard it a thousand times and off-handedly spoke the words. “Sorry, I…” She shrunk in on herself, shoulders up to her ears and her mug clutched all the tighter to her chest. “Someone I know doesn’t like it when people swear. Says it’s unbecoming of a witch.”

Eda felt something stick in her throat as she looked at the kid. And she suddenly felt inexplicably hurt, so hurt that she wanted to cry. Whoever it is Luz is talking about...Eda knows it must be the piece of her that’s lost. She wants to latch onto it, draw it out of Luz until she has a name. Something. Who was important enough to her that a weighted guilt rests like a stone in her stomach? That her seemingly perfect marriage to the seemingly perfect woman felt off? Is it the someone you want to return to? That made you hate my daughter so?

She caught Elara’s stare; she thought she saw a sadness flicker in her eyes momentarily before being smoothly covered by a calm neutrality. Right, she thought. Luz must come first. It’s not like knowing what they’ve lost will do them any good. It’d only hurt worse, I’d imagine.

Elara looks like she was about to smile but didn’t. “No need to apologize, sweetheart, but I’m afraid Eda dear may never learn that we don’t need to use such expletive language to get our point across.” She ran her fingers along Luz’s arm, softening the tension coiled tightly in her frame.

“As far as The Seer goes,” Elara continues, “It’s a magical artifact that is as old as the age of the first witches; there’s very little mention of its existence in our texts.” She sets her cup down on the coffee table, stapling her fingers together in her lap. “All we know is what the other yous have learned over the years.”

“Which is not a whole lot.” Eda snarks, waving a hand in the air. “In case you were wondering.”

That earns her a rather vexed look from her wife. Cute. “Right,” Elara sighs. “What we do know of it is that it was a gift-”

“-a gift?!” Luz splutters wildly, her complexion whitening. “How is that a gift?!”

“Perhaps gift isn’t quite the right word I’m looking for.” Elara proffers, her voice almost inaudible as though she never meant to give voice to the words. “Peace offering, maybe?”

“Ha. You’re so cute.” Eda snorts, gently intervening before her wife spirals down in the search for what she perceives as the right word; then answers the kid in return. “It’s an Old Blood tradition. Their lines were gifted with some powerful magic from the Titan, and long story short, there was a war to determine which family would rule over them all -lots of death, yadda yadda yadda-”

“Wow,” Luz curtly cut across her. “I see where Lucia gets her storytelling skills from.”

“You want some answers or not?” Eda snarks in return; only resuming when Luz looks at her hopefully, a sheepish half-smile on her face. “Anyway, the families went to war -a war that seemed to have no end in sight; so the families called a truce, and the heads came to the agreement they’d rule together as one; they created their laws on neutral ground, with the promise of total authority of how they run their own territories.”

“Oh.” Luz nods. “Like how the covens all follow the Emperor’s laws, but are still made up of individual smaller laws specific to their coven's way of handling matters.”

“Something of that nature,” Eda rolls her eyes. “War is in the Old Bloods’ nature, though. The peace wasn’t to last, let me tell you.”

“The Seer, along with eight other artifacts were physical promises of an era of peace from the Old Bloods,” Elara chimes in. “Anytime after the first war, when the families feud once more, another artifact is created and offered in place during the times of peace.” She cants her head. “All are lost, except for the set Belos had in his possession, and now The Seer in the hands of our daughter and the other yous.”

“And they’re not nearly as impressive as those of old.” Eda snickers. “Man, what I would give to possess those babies. Ha.”

“That’s really all you know about The Seer?” Luz asks skeptically. Disappointed.

“Our kid really told you nothing?” Eda ventures; there is tentativeness in her voice but a certain curiosity, too. “Nothing at all?”

Luz’s nose scrunches up. “She wanted me to find The Seer before she went into detail about it,” she returns with a huff. “She only told me I’d find it; that I can do anything I want so long as I’m willing to pay a price.”

Eda arches a supercilious brow at her wife. How is our kid as fantastic a healer as you, but when she’s not doing her job she sucks total ass?

“In her defense, that is essentially all there is to The Seer,” Elara peers at her wife discreetly, wincing -because, yes, she must agree their child is terrible at interactions outside of her family and work environment.

“Anyway,” sighing, Eda scrubs a hand down her face. “I’d still like to know how exactly this could’ve happened. Their souls are tied, I kind of follow that, but no one else is hopping bodies. So why the hell did it happen to our kid?”

Elara purses her lips together as if contemplating Eda’s words. “If I had to take a guess-”

“-because you’re not already full of them today.”

Another look. “Hush, my love,” Elara says dryly. “If we are working under the assumption their bond is stronger than that of the others, then when our daughter’s memories leaked in, the damage it wrought on Luz was significant enough to, let’s say, open the crack in the door a little wider.”

“There were memories that weren’t mine. And a lot of pain. And when I woke up, I wasn’t where I should be.”

Closing her eyes against the sudden vertigo -the fear, the terror, the final acknowledgment of her pain- Eda shakily exhales. “They couldn’t fit, right? She was being torn apart.” Her voice cleaves itself in two. “So one called out to the other...”

“...and one answered,” Elara finishes softly. “It’s incomplete, the swap of their souls. Unconscious on either side, I believe. That’s how I am most certain this wasn’t a body swap situation -your spell completely severs the soul from the body and exchanges it for another; it’s a spell that must be consciously done in order to work.”

Because she so desperately needed to, Eda opens her eyes and skims the surface of her wife’s emotions reflected in the golden hue of her eyes; needs to know if she was as lost as Eda without their kid. She hid it well, Eda’s always known this, but she also knows Elara, and though it’s hidden beneath her calm neutrality, Eda can see her concern and her fear and her uncertainty. The what-if she’ll never bring herself to voice. What if we lose Lucia; only to gain her back through the loss of Luz?

Are they going to lose two kids in one day? Because how can they go about their lives knowing a part of Luz was lost for what remains of Lucia to return to them? To never know what becomes of their daughter? Does she face the same fate as Luz? And if she doesn’t…

...will she hate us if we choose to continue on with the her that’s here? That we stopped fighting for her to come home?

Elara can hide it all behind her soft smiles, but Luz...

The not not her kid stiffens -she sits there unmoving. It was disturbing to see her so still, so quiet, as she takes on the appearance of death itself. Terse lips. Tight jaw. A wounded animal. Frightened, apprehensive, on edge, and despairing because of it.

She reminds me of someone, Eda thought. I can’t quite put my finger on who.

“Oh. Oh Dios.” Luz looks terrifyingly pale, and Eda felt her heart constrict so hard it hurt. “I did this. She warned me, and I didn’t listen to her,” she struggles, the words seemingly strangled in her mouth. “This is all my fault. Stupid. So stupid.”

...what?

“I did this,” Luz repeats simply; her shoulders begin to silently shake as she is insistent on taking the blame, as though it is necessary for them to proceed. “It’s not because of…”

The name rose -unspoken- in the stilted air.

Suspended.

On the tip of a fearful tongue.

"Of what?" Eda -no, the Empress- snarls, sitting up straight in the chair to peer down at Luz, clutching her cup like it was a lifeline. "Because of her, right? The one you want back?" It's harsh, brittle at the edges -and inwardly she cringes for sounding like her mother. She never wanted to hear that voice again; never dared to use it on her children, but dammit she wants something to make sense. Anything.

"Edalyn," Elara began hesitantly, dragging the syllables out as though she wasn’t certain she should intervene, or if she should finally side with her wife on a matter.

Elara can't read her like she can the rest of the Isles, but like Eda knows Elara, she knows Eda; her cracks must be showing if the healer is indecisive.

"I…"

Anything Luz might have said -revealed- was thwarted by the door being shoved open hard enough to slam into the wall with a resounding bang!

Kicked, Eda muses. The door had been kicked open by a furious Amelia, who stood at its threshold with her foot still raised. “You!” She roars, her face a hilarious shade of red as an accusatory finger points in Eda’s direction. “Are so dead!”

“Oh, that’s right,” Eda snaps her fingers, words lopsided and stilted, her face twitching and trying to curve into its characteristic smirk, but it’s like her cheeks are only half working -she felt like only half herself. “I sent you on an errand. How’d it go?”

“How did it go?” Amelia splutters tersely, her red complexion deepening as a snarl twists her features. “How did it-” Instead of finishing her sentence…

...Amelia lunges.

She launches at Eda with a battle-cry; striking so fast Eda didn’t have the chance to retreat, though she didn’t so much as grunt when her daughter collides with her -the upper half of Amelia’s body bares the brunt of her weight on Eda, with slim arms encircling around her neck; the lower half dangles over the back of the chair. “You sent me to question Hilda Thunklewood on the suspicion she’s hunting endangered species.” She hisses; her voice low and rough and her eyes sparking dangerously, and Eda thought she’s only ever made her this pissed when she cheats in card games.

“And?” Eda drawls.

“There is no Hilda Thunklewood.” Amelia snarls in her ear, her arms tightening around Eda’s neck in an attempt to strangle her. “She doesn’t exist. You made me look like a fool in front of the entire coven!”

“I’d never.”

She most certainly would.

//

“Well, well,” a voice rumbles in a throaty, predatory purr. “I wasn’t aware you were hosting a party, my dearest.”

Shit.

An expletive Lilith imagines describes her life quite exactly right now. Titan, no one tell Edalyn that.

Lilith has a problem. Correction -she has a lot of problems.

One. The elixir. Lilith knows the effects a sleep draft has on her, and the one Luz -because unlike her; unlike Luz apparently, Edalyn would never- slipped into her tea was created from the skilled mind of the Isles most promising healer and crafted by the hands of an expert potionist. It’s sound and effective...

...and bothersome.

Lilith did not like to sleep -it’s not sleeping, per se, that’s the problem, so much as what follows after- but the heavy hand of Elara’s sleep elixir presses itself over her eyes and bids her to return to her slumber -which it’s supposed to do, of course; Luz wouldn’t be taking it every night if it weren’t so, but the imposed, medicated coaxing was an unwelcome one nonetheless.

...the irony of it is not lost on her.

The only upside to the curse, Lilith supposes, is its insistence on keeping Lilith awake for as long as it can -to chitter away in her head; to make her watch as it scratches at the bars of its cage for a weakness to escape its prison. To be free. It kept the dream that haunts her in the night at bay until it can’t. Elara’s sleep tonic did what Edalyn’s elixir could not: it silenced the beast for a moment. Fortunately, instead of reliving the moment she lost what meant everything to her, it left her suspended in an awful emptiness.

Because Luz, Lilith figures, doesn’t want to dream anymore than I do.

Interestingly enough, sleep tonics never worked all that well on Lilith before the curse; they certainly didn’t start working after she was cursed -if anything, they worked even less. She couldn’t have been out for any longer than twenty minutes before she was wrenched back into the waking world and realized a certain human child was missing.

Two. Betrayal crept beneath her ribcage then; a fear left her stomach in her throat. Why? It’s so painful, the coiling hurt at the question that rattles around in her chest. Why? Why Luz felt she couldn’t trust her. Why she felt she needed to go behind her back. Is...is this how Edalyn felt? Had I made my sister doubt herself like this? Because this...this is what Lilith would do. Swallow down her secrets until circumstances beyond her control reveal them. Shoulder the burden and face the issue at hand alone, because how could she ask the one she’s hurt to help her?

It’s all Lilith.

And now Luz is following in her footsteps. What have I done?

She never should have let herself into Luz’s life; she’s not warm and inviting and open like Edalyn. I should have stayed away. Lilith’s a flaw. A dis-

And then the beast roared, rising onto its hindlegs. Claws poised. Feathers bristling. Enemy. Protect.

Three. Mira Rime. The head of the High Council and the Isles most gifted illusionist. Monster. Leant over Edalyn’s child. Her defenseless child. Something hot roared in her veins -primal- and there’s not a moment’s hesitation when she stood between the human and the threat before her.