Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The silver moon was full tonight, high up in the skies of the Glade of Dreams. Once bringing hope to its people, all the giant satellite did now was fill the fairy clad in green with grief. Grief and worry.  Perched up on the highest tree of the vast rainforest, Betilla stared intently at the silver moon, rubbing her knuckles as she hoped it would stare back and finally tell her something: tell her off, give her advice, anything, really! Maybe if Betilla had put her hope on the blue moon instead, she’d see a road ahead of her. She wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. She wanted to hate the silver moon, curse it until it dropped into the Blue Lum ocean, but all she could do was miss the comfort it used to bring her. All she could do was miss him .

“Lovely night, isn’t it, my dear?” A voice chimed from behind the fairy, before a large, amphibious being plopped down next to her, planting his starry top hat on his lap. Polokus chuckled, rubbing his short beard in thought as he side-eyed Betilla, taking note of her spaced out expression; from a mile away, he could tell that she was deep in thought. “Mind if I join your morose ruminations? No need to share them with me, of course, but misery does love company.” He knew full well why she was acting like this. It may have been years ago, but to timeless beings like them, it might as well have been last month. Even so, there was no real need to force a confession out of his emissary. Peace would come to her in time, she only needed to reach out for it. It was quiet for a moment between the two, the song of the nighttime insects seeming louder than they were, their figures dimly illuminated by the two moons and the army of stars above. It was a tad too dark for the god to gauge what Betilla was feeling, but he quickly had his answer when he heard her sigh.

“How can you be so calm, My Lord?” she asked, planting her floating hands onto her lap, looking back at Polokus. Her brows were furrowed tightly, a tight frown on her lips. “The Glade of Dreams is without a hero! Lune is gone–”

“It’s alright, Betilla darling!” Polokus interrupted, hand on her back. “This isn’t the end of the world, not even the end of our career. The Glade is in its peace time.” Even with his gentle smile, Betilla’s grimace only worsened. She couldn’t let herself relax, so she gently pushed his arm away.

“But what about when peace time eventually ends?” the fae hissed in a whisper, terrified of anyone hearing her doubt.

“Then a hero will eventually rise, Betilla–”

“Who? Who will?”

“You’ll see.”

Betilla groaned. Covering her face as she lurched forward, wanting to shrink into nothing, she allowed herself to space out again. This was all her fault, she should’ve done more… She needed to do more. She needed to be there for the hero, no matter what, and never fail them like she failed Monsieur Lune.

…

She lost Monsieur Lune. Lost him to the nightmares. She should’ve expected this, it had been a fact they’d all known for a while now; The Bubble Dreamer’s nightmares could affect ANYONE. They didn’t discriminate. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her poor, dear friend, just a young man… He didn’t deserve such a fate. She needed to protect the next hero from it.

“I must do something more than just wait, Polokus,” Betilla muttered, peeking out from behind her hands. “I need to find a way to protect any future heroes from corruption. We cannot lose another one like this.” The amphibian couldn’t find the words to say. Instead, he sighed deeply, intertwining his fingers as he looked up at the cosmos.

“I understand that you two were like family, Betilla,” he began, a lot more serious than before, “but this was not something you could control, and you won’t be able to control in the future. The nightmares take no prisoners, unfortunately. It comes with being a part of me.” His eyes softened, finally looking down at the fae with a more tender smile. “I know this world is still very new to us, my dear, but we’ll all manage it together, warts and all!” Betilla looked past the skies, past the canopy of trees, past the entire world, as an epiphany came to her. She smiled wide, perking up as an idea struck her like lightning. 

“You’re right… nightmares affect all of us, because we’re all part of you!” She floated up, clasping her hands together as her mind raced. Polokus raised one bushy brow, letting out a confused chuckle as he watched his emissary hatch a plan. Betilla turned, hands emoting with each word that came out rapid-fire: “Then it’s simple! What if the hero wasn’t created by you? Can’t catch the rot if they’re not one of your dreams, now can they?” Polokus’ mouth quickly dropped to surprise, tilting his head and trying to question where she was going with this, but the fae was relentless. “Maybe the land itself could birth our hero! Earthly magic has proven itself to be powerful in the right hands, without the necessity of Lums.” 

“Betilla, my child, Earthly magic cannot create anything from scratch,” The Bubble Dreamer finally sputtered out as he reached up to her, turning her to look at him. Her smile never left her round cheeks.

“Then I’ll find a way,” Betilla announced, nodding with intent. “I’ll take responsibility for this, My Lord, and create your hero of the Glade. I promise you this.” Polokus exhaled through his mouth. She’d do this, whether he liked it or not. He knew his nymphs far too well. He closed his eyes. He wished Betilla would listen to his words more carefully, but at the same time… he couldn't control her. He could not control any of his dreams. Or, more accurately, he never wished to. So instead, he gave the fairy a nod of approval.

“If I can trust anyone with this kinda mission, it’s my head fairy,” the Bubble Dreamer relented, letting her go, and replacing his hat at the top of his head.

“Thank you, My Lord!” Betilla’s wings buzzed in excitement, already skimming through the folders of knowledge she held in her mind palace. Magic was near and dear to her, and the ‘short’ while she had been alive, she had already compiled as much information on magic as she could observe from the gladefolk learning to live independently in their new home. However, she very quickly realized something: one, it was a lot of information, and two, it was incredibly disorganized. The more she thought about it, the heavier her head felt, and the more it spun in her skull. Oh boy. Betilla sat back down, scratching her temple as she admitted, sheepishly, “I’m not sure where to begin, though.” Polokus straightened up, a plan of his own blossoming in his head. He wasn’t one to force destiny onto his creations, but there was nothing wrong with prodding them in a certain direction.

“Well, If you need some advice,” he said, trying to stop a cheeky grin from forming in his lips, “My own boys may know a thing or two about… magic.”

~0~

Betilla stepped forward, onto the spiraling blue portal forming at her feet. And, with a flash of light, she found herself in an office, filled to the brim with rich information in the form of aging paper and leather, all held inside the rocky walls of a chilly castle. Behind a dark wood desk stood tall, proud windows framed in gold, giving anyone inside a good view of the landscape outside, a cliffside hanging above the Woods of Light. The Teensy she was assigned to see, The Grand Minimus, was just a second ago enjoying such a sight, right before jumping at the fairy’s sudden appearance.

“ Ah ! Lady Betilla!” The Teensy king’s voice cracked from the fright, but he quickly cleared it to something not as shrill: “I was expecting you! Just not as soon… you’re early!” Betilla giggled at that, as the elder Teensy waddled around the desk, making his way to her.

“I apologize for my intrusion, your majesty,” she bowed, covering her mouth to avoid anything louder than her titters, “but this is a tad urgent, so I hope to find the right person for the job as soon as possible. The Glade of Dreams should not wait another second for their hero.”

“Of course, of course!” The Grand Minimus nodded. “Anything to keep our home and people safe. Now! Come along, my lady.” With a twirl of his wrist, a gentle blue light sprouted from the Teensy’s fingertips, spinning round and round as it pushed the large, decorative doors open to lead them both out to the main building. The castle itself was magnificent, not to mention enormous. Maybe a tad too enormous for the aptly named Teensies. Its halls were all lined with wine-colored rugs, its walls brightened up by soft flames inside intricate lanterns. Once in a while, Betilla peeked through opened doors, and caught glances of other Teensies practicing their spells, miracles born out of the dance of their hands, magic twirling about like silk ribbons. Betilla’s eyes glimmered, and the Teensy king grinned with pride: “Amazing, aren’t they? This academy brings together only the brightest of The Bubble Dreamer’s children, all under the goal of finding out more about the land’s magical aura.” He continued forward, his conversational tone becoming a personal monologue. “Our research is pivotal to the safety of the Glade, I’m not surprised you’d want one of us to be your new hero.” The nymph blinked.

“Hero?” She floated back, quickly catching up to the king to clear up any confusion. “No, I think there has been a misunderstanding, your majesty, the Teensies won’t be the heroes, they will simply aid me in creating one! You see, I have a theory, and–”

“Of course they’ll aid you, Lady Betilla!” the elder interrupted, “And I’m sure you’ll aid them in their quest to be a hero. Now, who are you looking for? May I suggest–”

 Betilla sighed. She didn’t want to assume the worst from the Teensy king, however his ramblings were beginning to enter one ear and leave the other, coming across a bit more like self aggrandizing than actual interest in her project. Instead, the fairy kept on looking through any open doors and windows, in search for the right research partner; while a tad pompous, the king had at least some reason to feel such a way, seeing as everywhere Betilla went, one of his many siblings were enacting some kind of grand marvel. Modifying their surroundings, their possessions, even themselves! Their talent was admirable, and it wouldn’t surprise the fae if any of them became heroes on their own. They were more than capable, she thought. Capable, but not immune to their greatest threat. It only made her think of her dear friend, and the last time she saw him, determined to defeat a threat he was no match to. 

No. She couldn’t put any of them through that risk. 

As they passed through a sky bridge, The Grand Minimus still speaking about something or other, Betilla’s eyes locked on a lone tower, a quiet sight compared to the bustling castle grounds. While interesting, what truly caught her attention was the heavy, blue tinted smoke coming out of its thin windows. She stopped the king in his tracks, pointing at the smoggy building: “Is everything alright over there?” The elderly Teensy squinted, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, not this nutjob,” he muttered. “Don’t worry about him, he smokes up his lab at least once a week.” Betilla nodded slowly, still turning to eye the tower suspiciously. The king moved forward without much hesitation, which should’ve brought ease to the nymph, but as soon as the smoke became flames, her concern became alarm, and she propelled herself through the bridge’s arches to reach the tower’s victim. Flying low through a pond, her hand brushed through the water’s surface, blue Lums rising from it like fish looking for food, collecting themselves on the palms of her hands as she rose back up, ready to put out the flames. However, as soon as she reached the tower’s window, a gust of mist knocked her right back out, the Lums scattering out of her hands and back into the aether. Betilla floated there frozen, her clothes saturated in water. As the mist died down, she carefully peeked inside, her terror dissipating into curiosity. Inside, the Teensy she was so worried about wordlessly extinguished the flames that were once threatening to burn the whole room down, one hand holding a hose, the other turning a valve of a rusty tank to shut down the pressurized water. The Teensy coughed up any remaining smoke out his lungs, yet his expression remained difficult to read as his dreadlocks covered his eyes. Noticing his visitor, he gave Betilla a lop-sided grin, spinning the hose about.

“A real lifesaver, this one,” he joked with a relaxed tone, hooking the hose onto a holder attached to the tank and patting it affectionately. “Kinda glad I installed this after the fifth time my work caught on fire.” Hand over her chest, Betilla let out a relieved sigh, only for concern to bubble back up her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she questioned as she climbed inside, “but what on Earth are you trying to do in here that would cause such a violent reaction?!” The fairy peeked over the Teensy’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was so volatile as to almost roast the man like a turkey. His work desk was cluttered, books and papers scorched by the magical flames, test tubes and jars still stained with the leftovers of whatever ingredients he was using. It was a mess, but with the amount of notes and samples cluttering every corner of his space, it was fairly clear it was an intentional mess. The small cauldron in the middle still smoldered angrily, causing the fae to cringe at its potent stench. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was once inside the poor pot, but she swore she could catch a whiff of burnt sunflower seeds.

“It was nothing special, really,” the Teensy waved his hand about as he turned away from both the fairy and his work, grabbing a wet rag from a sink to clean off the soot from his nose. “It gets a tad chilly in this tall, foreboding tower, and even a madman like myself deserves a little bit of warmth, so I just thought, hey! How about we borrow a bit of that nice morning warmth? Flowers love to store it in their seeds, so roasting them into some beeswax from the Snoring Tree’s hives should be enough to drive it into something usable. Emphasis on should…” Betilla picked up one of the notebooks, paging through to see the words upon words elaborating on his comparably simple explanation. Diagrams, pros and cons, directions, even hazards, all organized in a manner that she could easily see used as a guide for anyone wanting to replicate his little stunt. Hopefully without the possibility of fire.

“This is incredibly well researched,” Betilla mumbled in awe, carefully reading through every ink stroke, like it was a personal letter to her. “It must’ve taken you months.”

“About a week and a half, actually,” the Teensy clarified, cleaning up the mess he had made. His tone was lighthearted, but the fairy wasn’t sure if it was meant to be sarcastic or genuine. “Research is the easy part, sweetheart. Applying it to actual spells is the hard part.” He slipped the notebook out of Betilla’s hands, snapping it shut with one hand as he slipped it into a tightly packed shelf. Realizing her intrusion, the nymph backed away.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She clasped her hands together to avoid touching anything else. “I barged into your space to snoop all over your studies, and never even asked for your name. I apologize, Mr…?”

“She wants to know my name,” the man chuckles to himself, sitting down on a well worn armchair. “My Lady Betilla, Teensies don’t share names that easily. But, you can call me The Magician, if you so may.”

“Ah.” Betilla felt silly even asking. However, the title caught her attention: “Magician? Aren’t you all Magicians?”

“Not that kind of magician,” he clarified, slipping his top hat from his head, “watch and learn.” The Magician presented the opening to the nymph, letting her slip her floating hand inside, where she could feel the smooth, empty bottom of it. “Nothing, right?” Pulling it back, he propped his hat on his legs, opening facing up, and reached inside with his own sleeved arm. Pausing for anticipation, he pulled out a stuffed Rabbid toy, shaking it about like it was tittering at its own trick. Betilla laughed, her voice chiming like bells, while The Magician found himself snickering, endeared by the fairy’s amusement over a simple trick. “It’s all sleight of hand, you know.”

“How adorable!” Betilla clapped with a big grin on her lips, calming her own giggling down. “You’re very good at these party tricks.”

“Yes, yes, I’m a master at them…” The Teensy’s smile dropped a bit, sliding his hat back on as his face became unreadable once more. “And apparently nothing harder. Everything else becomes very damn flammable in my hands.” He dismissively flicked his hand towards the direction of the still smoking cauldron, flinching and covering his face as a bubble grew a bit too large for comfort. Betilla’s brows knitted together, feeling a sort of cognitive dissonance.

“I wouldn’t say that, Magician,” she began, slowly so as to choose her words carefully. “Your execution needs work, that’s right… But your understanding of magic in an objective sense is remarkable! Are all Teensies required to take such notes?”

“Not to this level, no,” he admitted. “For as much as The Grand Minimus celebrates research and all that, most of the stuff Teensies do here is… surface level. Enough for their practice, you know? I don’t really see why they’d limit themselves like this though, when there’s a vast world of magic out there! From the tiniest specks flowers collect, to magic only fairies can use, it can all be reachable, if we push our limits just a little further.” Betilla’s eyes fluttered in wonder, palms pressed together over her mouth as her mind buzzed once more with excitement, with clarity, with newfound determination! She acted on instinct, her hands grabbing his paws to pull him closer. His face finally emoted, confusion and shock painting his cheeks purple.

“You!” Betilla exclaims with vigor! “I choose you! You are just the one I’m looking for!” She was so close, their noses pressed together in an excitable violation of personal space. The Magician stuttered as his mind spun around in circles, trying to make sense of whatever the hell the nymph was telling him.

“ Me ?” his throat managed to squeak out, still trying to find its footing, “Lady Betilla, that– that is maybe not the– n–not the most sage decision yo–you’ve made right now! A hero– A hero with no proper use in magic– How can–”

“Oh, hush now, this isn’t my plan,” Betilla stood the Teensy up, picking up one of his notebooks to show him her point. “Magician, I am not here to recruit a hero, I’m here to create one! One who’s immune to the corruption of nightmares.” Opening up the thick book, she paged through them once more, emphasizing just how full they are, as she looked between it and the man in front of her. “ This is what I need to make that happen. I need your research and organization, it's what will lead our project to bear fruit.” 

“I–I see,” he took his notebook back, paging through it himself. Still, the Teensy had questions. “But how will you create something without The Bubble Dreamer’s influence? Earthly magic can’t create a simple little seed from scratch, let alone a living being.”

“Excellent question.” Betilla took his place in the armchair, boots crossing as she spoke. “I have a theory: While earthly and fae magic are quite different, they might still come from the same place, thus, they can be fused together. With the help of F.M., I fully believe E.M. will be perfectly capable of giving us the results we want; a being separate enough from Polokus, and powerful enough to fight nightmares without the risk of corruption.” The Magician listened intently, tapping his pointer finger against his cheek. In his years of studying magic, he didn’t think he had ever considered the possibility that both magics could be combined.

“That’s a fascinating theory, I must admit,” the Teensy said, intrigued, “but even so, wouldn’t you want someone more capable of actually using magic? I doubt card tricks will be of any help here. I think I need to refuse your invitation, My Lady.” The nymph slightly deflated, hand cupping her cheek as she tried to find a way to convince him to accept. Suddenly, an idea hit her!

“Then I’ll help you master magic,” Betilla smiled, leaning down to be eye to eye with The Magician. “We’ll work together on this; you can help me organize this project, and I’ll use my own knowledge to tutor you in spellcasting. How’s that sound?” Seeing the man hesitate, side eyeing her in doubt, she decided to throw in one final suggestion to hook him in: “Besides, I don’t think you of all people would want to lose the opportunity to study fae magic, would you?” The Magician finally looked at her. Got him.

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Lady Betilla,” the Teensy grinned, taking her hand to shake it. “Alright then, I’ll be your research buddy! Better than filling my lungs with smog again. Happy to join you in this project!”

“Thank you so much, Magician!” The fae stood up, firmly giving his hand a squeeze. She laughed brightly again, a lot more confident in her project’s survival, now with a Teensy as brilliant as this by her side. She punctuated their deal with a proud statement: “I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Chapter Text

The two suns saturated the colors of the forest, turning the rivers bluer and the leaves greener. Even the gray stones making up the Teensy academy seemed to shimmer like silver under the morning rays. Betilla glided above the Woods of Light, taking in the fresh smell of wet foliage in the air. Her heart swelled in excitement, her entire day already planned out as soon as she woke up. The thought of getting down to business as soon as possible kept the fairy up all night, like a child feverishly waiting for their birthday the next morning. She didn’t waste any time. As the Teensy academy’s isolated tower came into view, she gracefully made her way up to its window, quiet as she stepped inside the small, cluttered lab. Instead of an up and alert Teensy, Betilla found The Magician wrapped inside a hammock, snoring away his morning.

Ah.

She blinked, perplexed at the sight before her. The fairy looked at an alarm clock inside one of the many shelves tacked haphazardly around the walls: 9:30 am. Well, this won’t do. Floating up to the hammock, she leaned in close, close enough that The Magician would surely feel her presence, and gently nudged at his nose a few times. The Teensy stirred, grumbling, not in any rush to open up his eyes, until his brain finally processed that he wasn’t alone in his room. He jumped. 

“Good morning,” Betilla said, smiling. The Magician rubbed his face, groaning.

“Morning, my lady,” he muttered, reaching for the clock himself to confirm his suspicions. It was, in fact, too damn early. “I don’t believe I’ve invited you inside.”

“Of course you did,” Betilla began, her smile dropping into a pout. She planted her hands on her hips, quick to recount their agreed upon plans: “Yesterday, you told me to meet you here early, so I arrived early.”

“Ah, ah,” The Magician tutted as he sat up, shaking his finger. “I told you not to be late, my dear. I never said anything about being early.” The nymph rolled her eyes. She was so used to having these kinds of conversations, to the lack of clarity given to her, but every single time it still got to her.

“That would imply you want me to be early,” Betilla chided with a terser voice. “That’s the opposite of not being late, is it not? But since you never gave me a specific hour, I’m left to assume you meant early in the day. So I came early in the day.” The Magician didn’t open his mouth. Instead, he hummed.

“Your logic is sound,” he admitted, “I won’t skim on details next time, then.” He finally jumped down from his hammock, snatching his dark cloak from a nearby hook.

Betilla’s frown softened. This was new, a type of new she welcomed with open, metaphorical arms. A smirk tugged the corner of the fairy’s lips, content with her win. Was it a win? In reality, she didn’t know how to explain it; she was simply happy to be heard.

“I apologize for my tardiness, my lady,” The Magician continued, tone lighthearted as he fetched a sooty kettle from a tiny cupboard, “I sorta expected you to forget about it as soon as you got back to the fairy council, so I wasn’t terribly worried about getting ready as soon as possible.” He shrugged his shoulders, lighting up a bunsen burner to brew some coffee. 

“Really?” Betilla’s brows rose in intrigue. “What made you think that?” The Teensy was quiet, letting his thoughts bubble like the boiling water.

“Poor judgment of character on my part,” He finally declares with a grin. “I should know better.”

“Well, now you do!” The nymph tittered as she plopped down on the now vacant hammock, gently swaying on it. “Have some faith, Magician! This is more than an impulsive hobby, you know. I’ve planned everything already; First, we'll head towards the Fairy Glade, and–” Betilla is interrupted by chuckling, light and airy and good natured.

“Your enthusiasm is delightful, Lady Betilla,” The Magician cooed, more focused on his coffee than on Betilla. “However, you’re skipping way too many steps there. Excursions are nowhere near the first thing we do, it’s like putting on a play without a script!” 

The fairy’s face reddened, She should be at least a little bit peeved about being interrupted, brushed away, but the action itself didn’t feel malicious. Sure, the Teensy was hard to read, but his laugh chimed with glee, and his flattery sounded genuine enough to shoot directly through Betilla’s heart. It felt… nice? She was almost surprised by how easily it came to him, so casually that he had already moved on to propping his feet up on the table and sipping away at his breakfast. Betilla, instead, felt relief to have someone so motivated to teach her.

“Alright then, you’re the scholar here,” she relented with hands lifted up in defeat. “Then where do we start, Magician?” The Teensy leaned his head back to glance in her direction, his cool smile warming up with excitement.

~0~

“We start with some light reading, of course!”

The library’s carved table shook with the weight of the books dropped on it. Betilla looked over the impressive towers of published research, mouth agape as The Magician fished through his bag for his own notes. She floated upwards to pick one book up, quickly paging through it to see for herself the utter density of the “light reading” the Teensy had chosen for them.

“You want me to read all of these!?” Bettila gawked at their work, wings buzzing with surprise. 

“No, no,” The Magician laughed, taking his seat right behind the city of books. “Just skim through them, look through the table of contents, all that. Find anything you think will make your goal a little bit easier.”

“I see.” The nymph settled on a seat of her own, weighty tome in hand. She leaned it on a book stand, flipping back to its glossary to peek at the vocabulary she might need for the hefty task. As she read through definitions, she couldn’t help but continue the conversation: “are these just all of the magic books the academy holds?”

“Of course not,” The Magician corrected, not looking up from his own note taking. “I wouldn’t overwork you like that, dear. These are just all of my recommendations! You’re welcome to look for other sources, though.” 

“All recommendations.” Betilla, to be blunt, didn’t believe him. “You have read all of those books, and more, cover to cover.”

“Yes,” the Teensy answered bluntly. “All of them. They’re wonderful reads, Lady Betilla, they have my seal of approval.”

“When do you have the time?” She couldn’t drop the subject; she knew Teensies well, and they were not always sincere with what they did with their free time. “Between your studies and teensy parties, I mean.”

“Dazzling my siblings with my oh-so-adorable party tricks is only fun the first five hundred times,” The Magician rebutted a little more tensely. “I needed to find a new hobby, and fortunately for me, reading also leaves me in blissful solitude. Has anything caught your eye, my lady?”

Betilla’s mouth snapped shut, shoving her face back into her book and forcing herself back to work. The library was far from deserted, the nymph could hear Teensies practicing, chatting, discussing, and fraternizing as they passed by their workspace, all in hushed tones as to not disturb the many others leisurely reading all about. However, that wasn’t to say that the spot chosen by The Magician wasn’t isolated, she could have sworn he even pushed it deeper into a corner to further separate from the other library-goers. Despite how lonely it felt sitting at that table, She couldn’t deny the atmosphere was utterly immaculate for studying. The distant chatter of Teensies, the faintest sound of heavy wind outside the windows, and the clearer noise of pens scratching against paper, all commingled to create an ambience heavy enough to put her mind at ease, leashing her curiosity to the yellowing pages of the tome. The more she read, the more invested she was in the depth given to the subject at hand, how well articulated the writers were in their findings. It was a type of love that touched Betilla and transformed her study time into a moment of bliss. She could absorb the information, take it in as she read into the relationship between magic and nature. 

“How interesting,” Betilla muttered as she tapped a few words on the page, as if to focus on them more. “It says here that earthly magic comes from the plants themselves! I always thought power from the land was just a turn of phrase, ahah~”

“It’s possibly the most popular theory on how teensies can use magic,” The Magician looked up from his writing, tapping his pen against the notebook as he shared what he knew. “According to those studies, the magical aura used for magic comes from the ground, and the flowers release it into the atmosphere, just like carbon. I like that theory a lot, it’s a stupendous one, in my opinion. Except…” The Teensy trailed off, and Betilla was quick to pick up on the theory’s pitfall.

“Except the ground itself isn’t magical, correct?” She asked, and The Magician nodded. She continued, “Nothing in the Glade can produce magic from scratch, only Lums.” 

“Exactly the case, Lady Betilla.” The Teensy leaned back on his chair, hands flapping away as he ranted away with over-the-top huffiness: “it could have been the most perfect explanation to our world, a breakthrough for magusology itself! It even makes sense, doesn’t it? A world created through dreams and imagination itself, taking in bits and pieces of its own deity to continue the cycle of conception, to become self-sufficient and independent of God itself! And yet, it falls apart with one question. Where is the dirt getting the magic? Because dirt can’t just make magic. Only Lums can make magic.” The nymph found herself twirling that question around in her cranium, letting it power the gears as they turned to produce an idea.

“Only Lums can make magic,” she pondered out loud, “then maybe the dirt got it from the Lums!”

The Magician tilted his head, letting out a noise of confusion.

“Wouldn’t it make sense if the aura you and your siblings have been observing were loose particles from Lums?” Betilla sat up, straighter, turning her open book to point at a diagram of a flower emitting stylized aura from its petals. “If Lums shed their magic all about, it would very likely float about in the air and stick to its environment, giving it their magical properties, a lot like pollen!”

“You’re suggesting aura is a lot like dust, dead skin cells,” The Magician commented as he leaned forward, nodding approvingly. “I like that quite a bit! But one question: do Lums have skin to shed?”

“It could be anything, really,” Betilla shrugged. “It could be skin, hair, anything–”

“Shit too?” The Teensy added in with a playful tone in his voice. The fairy choked on her own surprise, trying not to let out a crude laugh.

“Don’t be crass,” she tried to scold the Teensy, her own seriousness poorly hiding her amusement.

“Apologies,” he said with faux remorse, made even more obvious by his large, unrepentant smile. “Feces. Could it be their own waste, Lady Betilla?” The fairy tried to scold him again, but instead out came a sigh, one accompanied by her covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders bounced.

“I don’t think Lums can even defe– HAH!” It finally got to her, and she cackled from the horrible direction their conversation had taken, snorts punctuating every other laugh. The Magician beamed in pride, watching an emissary of Polokus laugh as delicately as a floundering giant. Betilla should’ve felt a little embarrassed, being oh so loud in a library, and getting dirty glares from the other patrons at that! But she couldn’t help the joy in her voice, at such a dumb thing too. It felt freeing, and not so lonely, even as she laughed alone.

~0~

“I do want to ask,” The Magician spoke absentmindedly, hopping from stone to boulder as he climbed down a hill with Betilla. “Where did hair come from? As far as I know, aren’t Lums balls of light?”

The night was dark under the new moons, and the path they took through the rolling hills was cold against their skin. The two researchers followed a few yellow and red Lums for their first expedition, finding a relatively small valley holding what looked like dozens of the glowing creatures. Their bodies gently glimmered, creating a lovely light show that painted the inky darkness with an aurora of color. It almost seemed like the stars had descended from the heavens.

“They actually do have hair!” Betilla hummed as she gently pushed a few Lums away with her fingers. “They shine so bright, you see the rays before any of their fluff. Come, see for yourself!” She carefully scooped one into her palm, her other reaching for the Teensy to bring him closer.

“Oh, that’s not–” he tried to argue, but the Lum had already landed in his paw, giving his blue fur a yellow gleam. It felt warm and comforting, like the embrace of a dear friend, and most importantly of all, it felt fuzzy. Betilla’s green eyes shone with delight at the sight, watching as The Magician’s mouth fell open in wonder. He carefully scratched the Lum with a dull claw, and it sang a gentle song, pleased with the attention. They both laughed quietly, and the Teensy muttered: “oh, they’re delightful.”

“Aren’t they?” The nymph whispered as she led the Lum to fly away. “Incredibly gentle creatures, but terrifying if disrespected. Me and my sisters were too careless, eons ago, and accidentally scared a red one! Its light was completely snuffed out, leaving only singed fur and a nasty attitude.”

“You don’t say!”

“I do!” Betilla nodded with fervor, her words tinged with a giggle. “It went mad! Furious! Luckily, we managed to capture it, soothe its light back, but that could have been a fiasco and a half, hahah.”

“I don’t see how, with how small they are,” The Magician admitted. Betilla gently shoved his arm, shaking her head.

“Don’t speak like that, alright?” She chastised. “Never underestimate something you don’t fully understand.”

“I’ll try,” He teased back. “Enough marveling, We have notes to take.”

~0~

The duo watched carefully as one Lum buzzed about, landing on a red flower for a quick rest. It was an interesting sight for sure, a vibrant splash of color inside the dull caverns of the livid dead. However, as the Lum stretched and took flight once more, the tulip shook around violently, its petals opening up to a ferocious mouth and wild eyes. The Magician dared to poke the bloom with his pencil, irritating it enough to lunge for his arm. He quickly pulled away with a cackle.

“Look at that, my lady,” he continued laughing as he scribbled something on a small notepad. “It was only here for a second, and yet the flower’s already up and at them! Either those particles are strong, or plants are faster learners than us.” Betilla laughed alongside her friend, taking notes herself. They have watched, day in and day out, how Lums have brought some sort of odd miracle or another to the flora they pass by, and yet every new hex brought them glee. Their fun was interrupted by senile screaming, an angry granny none too pleased by somebody tampering with her tulips.

“It better not be one of you dang Griskin!” She hobbled over to the two, fuming so much steam might’ve come out of her ears. Betilla and The Magician leaped to their feet and blazed right out of the woman’s front lawn like ghosts right out of hell. “Youngins and their no good lack of manners,” She grumbled, glaring at the escapees while watering her precious little blooms.

The duo hid inside a mausoleum, peeking out to make sure they weren’t followed, or that the granny hadn’t called upon them an angry mob of her friends. Once they were sure the coast was clear, they relaxed, deciding then and there to take their break.

“Enough research, I think,” Betilla breathed out, sliding down the concrete walls with relief. “I think we can study what we have for now, why not?” The Magician nodded as they both reached for their notes.

“Looks like just about anything can use magic here,” the Teensy commented, breathless and unable to move. He lays flat on his stomach, barely moving anything but his arms to turn the pages of his notes.

“What a marvel,” Betilla spoke to herself. “And here I thought only Teensies could use earthly magic.”

“Mm, no they don’t,” The Magician refuted, closing his notebook. “And, frankly, it’s a bit audacious that a fairy, respected emissary of The Bubble Dreamer himself, would think we’re the only ones blessed with magic.” 

“Isn’t it right?” She asked, furrowing her brows.

“Absolutely not,” the Teensy propped himself up by the arms, shaking his head with a tut. “Plenty other gladefolk are perfectly capable of casting spells, Lady Betilla. Have you never heard of Red Wizards?”

~0~

“Oh!” Betilla gasped, balancing an oversized jar over her head. “Incredibly embarrassing on my part, I apologize. They can control the weather, isn’t that right?”

The jibbering jungle was quite the trek to make for an excursion, yet its proximity to Polokus’ favorite snoring spot meant it was utterly saturated with Lums, which meant its plant life was simply beaming with magic. However, the collection of enchanted wildlife had made them wonder if anything else was storing aura within, which led to another reason why the jungle was an excellent research spot: it rained way too often. 

“They control the weather alright,” The Magician balanced his own jar on his back, impatient for the rain to drip from the leaves to their new home as samples. “And it’s a feast for the eyes how they do it, an incredibly unique form of spellcasting, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, I’ve seen their dances before!” Betilla said with a bouncing nod of realization. She lowered her jar to look inside, rainwater barely covering the base. She frowned, instead deciding to continue chatting: “I always thought they were simply good at predicting when the rain would come, and based their rituals on those forecasts.” The Teensy gave up as well, planting his own jar down on the mud.

“Their dances use the same basic movements Teensies use for their own spells.” The Magician leaned against the jar, spinning his finger round and round. He then tapped his temple, grinning incredulously, “It’s why they twirl so much, never wondered about that?” Betilla laughed softly, a bit flustered as she realized something.

“Of course, I can’t believe I’ve never noticed,” She admitted with a lopsided smile. “I’ve seen Globox summon rain plenty of times, I can’t believe it never occurred to me that it was because he’s a Red Wizard too.”

“Maybe we can call him over,” The Teensy huffed while knocking on his nearly empty jar. “Might speed this up a tad more.” Betilla snorted quietly at her friend’s lack of discipline.

He was right, though. The jungle’s heavy canopy of trees meant any water siphoning in would be minimal at best, and while The Magician’s company was always welcomed, the fairy was getting tired of waiting too. 

“Let's change tactics, then.”

Before the Teensy could ask what she meant, Betilla picked both him and his jar up, holding him close as she took flight. The Magician couldn’t help but squeal in terror as they went up, up, and up, gripping the fairy anywhere his claws could dig into. She didn’t seem to mind, as she refused to slow down until she finally breached the leafy roof of the jungle, letting the light rain seep into them both.

“How’s this?” Betilla asked. Without waiting for an answer, she gently sat the Teensy down on a branch, watching as the jar he was holding for dear life slowly filled up with the drizzle. The Magician finally relaxed, looking up at the cloudy sky, feeling the cool rainwater drip down his muzzle and hair. He glanced back at his dear, sweet friend.

“It’s wet,” he deadpanned. He shook hard, spraying water all over the fairy, who tried shielding her face from the barrage with a groan. However, it wasn’t long before the Teensy’s frown smoothed into a smile, tilting his jar upwards to collect the rain. “But it’s a lot faster than waiting for droplets,” he admitted. 

Betilla smirked in victory. The Magician rolled his eyes under his dreads.

“Anyways,” He continued, avoidant. “If Globox is a Red Wizard… why is he blue?” 

“You can’t just ask why someone is blue, Magician,” She scolded.

“Of course I can, my lady. I just did.”

“Alright, fine.” Betilla landed on a branch herself, jar on its side, between where her thighs would have been. 

She told the tale of the blubue buberrubies and the blubue bubeastubie, how one shubamuban became too glutonous for his own good, and was promptly swarmed by deliriously dangerous bubeastubies until the shubamuban was blubue with sores. The more and more Betilla revealed, the more and more The Magician laughed; first a quiet chortle, then an over-the top guffaw as he tried not to fall off his very high off seat. The fairy relished in the sight of her friend being so expressive, so loud with his emotions. She swore she could even see his eyes, squeezed shut from laughing so hard, framed oh so nicely with dark eyeshadow. The Magician looked lovely like this, loud and awkward and oh so giggly.

“What a tale, my lady,” The Magician sighed, rubbing a tear out of his eye. “I’d call it a nice, fabricated story, if it weren’t for the fact that I know Globox is allergic to absolutely everything. Even plum juice. Though I don’t know if that’s the allergies or just the juice doing its magic.”

~0~

“Plum juice?” Betilla yelled over the chatter of the dining hall. 

The room was loud and celebratory as everyone feasted on the Teensie’s most recent hunt, juicy poultry served with fluffy rice and aromatic stew, all clamoring to hear each other’s comments and jokes. Even in the crowded, claustrophobic, loud situation they were in, the fairy couldn’t focus on anyone else but The Magician.

“Never had it?” The teensy asked as he ate, mouth full of tender white meat. Likewise, he couldn’t peel his attention away from the fairy in front of him, even as he tried shoveling food into his gullet at the same time. “The juice from plums ferments as soon as you squeeze it out. Horrible for the children, wonderful for everyone else.”

“I always assumed your siblings fermented it for festivals,” Betilla commented with a hum, pulling at the crispy skin of a thigh to crunch on. “But it seems I’ll have to start thanking the fruit themselves for their wonderful work. Or, maybe, the Lums?”

“Grateful for the bizarre hexes in plum juice, maybe,” The Magician joked. “Drink a bit too much, and you inflate like a balloon. The flavor is simply not worth it.”

“Of course I’ll trust a connoisseur of hard drinks,” Betilla snarked back. “With how many events you attend, I imagine your experience with them is expansive.” The Teensy smiled cheekily.

“Actually, I drink alone in my room,” he declared proudly, lifting his cup of mead in a mock toast. “I might still have some there. Why don’t you come for a taste test, and decide for yourself if Lums are as good as you claim they are?”

“Is this a formal or informal invitation?”

The Magician choked on his drink, coughing as he cleared out his throat. He didn’t really think he’d get this far, to be fair. The days had turned into months, and the months into years. They’ve both traveled the Glade of Dreams tenfold, watched little sprouts grow into massive oaks as they observed the habits of Lums together. And yet, it felt like they had met not too long ago. The Teensy could feel Betilla’s hand soothing his back, asking if he was alright. He couldn’t be timid about this.

“It’s an invitation from Ales.”

“What was that?” The nymph asked, leaning closer to hear her friend better. Her presence alone was warm, like holding a Lum in his paw.

“Ales,” he repeated, clearing his throat. “Ales Mansay. It is a pleasure to have your acquaintance.”

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally have your name, Ales.” Betilla smiled wide, chest light with joy. “If I can call you by your name, then you don’t have to refer to me as your lady. Is that alright?” Ales returned the smile with his own.

“Of course, Betilla, I’m honored.” The Magician, Ales, straightened out proudly, happy even! A couple of Teensies nudged him in the ribs, whistling and wiggling their brows as a sort of suggestive congratulations. He pushed their noses away with an annoyed glare. The Teensies snickered like schoolchildren. Betilla’s eyes crinkled in amusement at the little creatures’ excitement for their brother’s success.

“And I accept your invitation,” she clarified with a tap of her pointer finger against the table, “if you show me that you’ve been practicing your technique.” Ales’ mood immediately dropped.

“Aw, hell.”

~0~

“No need to frustrate yourself,” Betilla spoke gently, holding her dear one’s arm outwards to keep it in place. “Keep a steady hand, and move slowly.”

Ales took a deep breath. His room was dark and silent, except for the soothing voice behind him, leading his spellcasting carefully. The nymph’s eyes softened at the sight, watching him carefully as he breathed through his mouth. The twirl of his wrist was shaky, sloppy, but it was deliberate. Soon enough, the tips of his paws began to glow, tracing lopsided swirls in the air with a gentle light. The Magician’s breathing picked up in pace, watching as the blue aura tinted the dark of the room with its cooling presence. As soon as it had arrived, it was gone. Ales pouted for only a moment, before his body was suddenly pressed against Betilla’s in a tight embrace. He was shaken about, disoriented until her voice cut through the confusion.

“You did that!” Betilla celebrated, beaming from ear to ear as she squeezed the Teensy tightly. “You managed to do that, my dear! I’m so proud of you.”

The Magician’s cheeks burned, making the hug warmer than it already was. Its warmth wasn’t unwelcomed, however, it only made his heart beat faster. Judging by the thrumming against his ear, the nymph’s heart was not too far behind either. It was an exhilaration that both of them accepted with open arms, and that they wished would never end. Betilla liked being alone with Ales. Ales hoped to always be around Betilla.

Chapter Text

Leaves rustled as a gust of wind rushed past them, picked up by wings buzzing at top speeds. Four nymphs barged their way into the Teensy academy, swinging doors open and giving any poor scholar inside a heart attack. They chattered amongst themselves, pointing and whispering, asking each other if they thought one Teensy or the other was Betilla’s partner in crime. So many frazzled little guys, but their big sister was nowhere to be seen. Finally, they found the headmaster’s office, and with as much excitement and force as before, slammed his doors open. The Grand Minimus almost jumped out of his fuzzy blue skin.

“Oh! My ladies!” The Teensy King gripped his chest, arms wobbly. He sunk deeper into his chair as he stumbled over his words with a stutter. “I– I didn’t expect you to be here so early.”

“Apologies, your Highness,” the smallest nymph, Helena Handbasket, squeaked with a little curtsy, “but Betilla wanted us here ASAP. Even said so in her letter, come early in the morning! ” 

“Of course, of course she did,” the elder king huffed, straightening up. “Lady Betilla has been a lovely guest, yes yes, but very busy. It doesn’t surprise me that she would want your presence at this hour.  Have this meeting done and over with.” 

“Goodness, I hope not,” Holly Luya mumbled. “This was meant to be a friendly visit as well, afterall. Speaking of, have you seen Betilla? We've tried finding her lab partner, but we don't exactly know who he is.”

“She's with her lab partner, alright.” The Grand Minimus stood up and stretched his back, his aging bones creaking with each movement. He continued his grumbling, “but I doubt she's out anywhere in public. The Magician is an isolating presence, if you ask me; rarely likes to socialize with his brothers.”

The nymphs exchanged glances, either through concerned side-eyes or wide stares, eyebrows knitting and raising together. Betilla was possibly the friendliest of them all, even if she needed help socializing from time to time. Alone was rarely a word used to describe their eldest sister. Hit with both a pang of worry and intrigue, the four fairies were even more curious about this Teensy. A curiosity that the king was entirely clueless about, more focused on his continuing internal thoughts.

“Honestly, I really do hope he hasn't been wasting Lady Betilla's time,” he said with a huff. The Teensy King opened his windows with a wisp of magic, leaning outside to watch his scholars, both old and new, spending their time either socializing or studying. His frown deepened.

 “There's so many choices out there,” he declared with a wave of his hand. “My brothers are all masters at what they do, bona-fide wizards! Not to mention all the new, young ones Our Father has been dreaming up these past years. I don't really understand why she would choose someone who'd rather devour as much information as possible, instead of applying it to his own spellcasting.”

“You’re worried that he’ll smear the name of Polokus’ children,” the tallest nymph, Anita Fish, declared. Her eyes were filled with a tension no one in the room could really pinpoint. “Am I correct, your majesty?” 

“I don’t know,” the king sighed as he stepped away from the window to look at his guests. “I worry that he’ll never reach the fullest potential of a Teensy. He refuses to learn the same way we’ve been learning for eons, and it has made him an outcast! Mocked by his peers for it! He depends on his card tricks, and nothing harder.” The Grand Minimus rubbed his eyelid. His frustration dimmed as he sighed, back against the window’s frame. “I wish my brother would strive for more, at least for himself.”

The nymphs nodded, unsure how to respond. The air felt more melancholic, uncomfortably personal. Holly tried to comfort the king, placing a hand onto his shoulder, before his head suddenly snapped back to look outside the window. His voice cracked with incredulous anger.

“ What the hell is he doing now?! ”

The fairies practically jumped, all four of them squeezing through the narrow opening to catch a glimpse of whatever got the elder so upset. Down at the courtyard, one of the Teensies weaved through crowds as he sped past his disgruntled kin. His short arms gripped a straw basket for dear life. The king smacked his face in despair.

“Don’t tell us,” Anita deadpanned. “That’s The Magician.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Don’t lose him!” the last nymph, Edith Up, exclaimed as she squeezed herself out. “He knows where Betilla is!” The other three scrambled after her and zipped away, the force of their take off nearly knocking the king out of his window. He gripped the ledge, groaning as they took off behind The Magician. He was too old for this nonsense. 

The ladies flew as close as they could to The Magician, away from the ground so as to not disrupt the other scholars. He was surprisingly hard to keep track, with how often he twisted and turned for no discernable reason. Soon enough, they were out of the main grounds, and the sisters could finally see the Teensy’s destination: a large, sturdy tree, with stone tables planted around its roots, and Betilla sitting on one of them. Edith was the first to stop with a gasp. She plunged into some bushes, her fellow fairies following suit, either knowingly or pulled along. Of course, spying might not have been their best idea, but the intrigue had won over.

The eldest fairy shuffled through her papers in her leather envelope, distractedly rereading everything she had collected over and over again as she practiced what she would say. The pounding of her heart was practically deafening, and her nerves were on edge. She didn’t even realize she had company until The Magician gently picked up her papers. Her surprise became a warm smile.

“Good morning, Ales dear,” Betilla cooed, moving to the side to give him space. She raised a brow as he sat down and planted his large basket on the warm surface of the table. She continued, inquisitive but lighthearted: “I thought you were having breakfast at the dinner hall? What are you doing here?”

“Well, of course I was having breakfast at the dinner hall,” Ales repeated, looking away to try and seem blasé. Betilla couldn’t miss his cheeks slowly turning purple. “However, like always, it was crowded, noisy, and overall unpleasant. I think I could spend my time better helping you set up for your sisters.”

“Now, Ales, you know this is meant to be a private reunion–”

“Of course, of course,” he reassured her, gingerly slipping her papers back into their leather folder. He rummaged through his basket, fishing out plate upon plate of food of all kinds. “I won't hang around, I promise. I'll just leave you with some grub, make your get together a little more homely.” 

“Oh my, that's a lot of food…” Betilla leaned back at the sight of bread rolls, sausages, jams, boiled eggs and much more, a bit shocked at the utter volume of breakfast dropped at her space. “Where did you say you got all of this?”

“Well, duh, the dining hall.”

Betilla shot him a look. He smiled as innocently as he could.

“I absolutely told the cooks it was for the nymph sisters,” he lied, quite brazenly. “And they definitely agreed to feeding you wonderful ladies.”

“I'll have to thank them myself, then,” The fairy noted sarcastically, unamused. Even so, she couldn't help her smile returning over the sweet, if dubious, gesture. “And thank you for bringing us this meal, darling.”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.” Ales handed Betilla her documents back, patting her shoulder gently with a more sincere grin. “Are you nervous?” The fairy let out a breathy, anxious laugh, pinching the flap of her folder until she was sure it would crease.

“Incredibly,” she said with a nod. “But they're my sisters, and I have nothing but trust in them! I'm sure they trust me as well.”

“Well,” The Magician began, sounding a bit more cautious than the taller fae, “Even if they weren't your sisters, with the inherent trust that comes with it, of course, I already know you'll win them over with your research.”

“This has been years in the making!” Ales stood up on the bench, his hands flapping once more as he dramatized the importance of Betilla's work. “You've taken note of every single Lum we have come across, studied their every move and pattern. This might be the most anyone has documented Lums in our short history as the Glade of Dreams. When they see what you've collected, their travel patterns, their influence on the flora, every single footprint they have left behind? They'll know that the birth of the hero, the Lum King if you may, will be a glorious one!”

Betilla couldn't help but laugh, laugh brightly as the Teensy continued with his theatrics purposely meant to cheer her up. The Magician snorted as well, holding back a guffaw of his own. Her laughs were wonderfully infectious.

“I think I get it, Ales, thank you.” Her laughter died down, the tension holding her body together softening up. She didn't realize how stiff she was until her hands and feet bobbed more easily. “I'll trust your intuition.”

“Groovy!” The Teensy hopped down from the bench. “I'll leave you be, your sisters will be here anytime soon, and I–”

“Ah! One more thing.”

Betilla held him back by the collar, gentle but firm.

“Have you eaten your breakfast?”

Ales took a little too long to respond. “Well, I have coffee in my room.”

“That won't do,” The nymph declared. She scooped up a bread roll, ripping it open with her hands. Spreading berry jam and soft cheese onto the roll with ease, she extended it to The Magician. “Eat up. I'm sure the cooks won't mind if one measly roll didn't feed the nymphs.”

The Teensy sighed, but the smell of freshly baked bread was like a siren song to him. He hesitantly took a bite from Betilla's hand, his throat letting out a pleased hum as the sweet jam and salty cheese hit his tongue like a tonic. He took the rest of the roll, savoring each chomp with a noise of pure delight. He was relieved his coat hid away his stubby tail, because he could feel it wag. Betilla took Ales’ distraction to pack him more food in a napkin.

“Here,” she dropped the bagged meal onto his paws, surprising him with the sudden weight. Her eyes squinted as she spoke, full of affection, “enjoy your meal, darling.” The Magician gulped down, both the ravaged bread roll and his own saliva, as his face heated up again. He took advantage of her leaning so close to him, and quickly planted a kiss on the nymph’s cheek. It was her turn to go red.

“I'll see you later, babe,” Ales said, his cool tone contrasting with how he stumbled away from the picnic table. Betilla froze there, under the leaves of the sprawling tree, processing The Magician's affection. As she patted the cheek he kissed, her lips pulled up into a dopey smile, and she giggled like a lovestruck teen.

Before she knew it, Betilla was surrounded! Her sisters came out of hiding, twirling her around and squealing into her ears. Her head spun, but it quickly focused on her family's joy as they cooed and asked a million questions an hour. She could only answer one question that kept being repeated:

“Is that your lab partner~?”

The eldest grinned, face hidden behind her hands as she waited for the four nymphs to settle down, bated breaths as they waited for her to confirm what they already knew.

“Yes,” the green fae mumbled into her hands. Her face deepened in color, but her smile never left her. “He's my partner– my– my lab partner!”

The piercing squeals continued. They cut through Betilla in the most wonderful way possible. 

The five nymph sisters sat around the stone table, dappled light bouncing off their wings as they enjoyed their morning picnic. Betilla answered any questions she could about her stay in the academy, about the Teensies, and the food, and all of the places she has seen throughout all of these years. Goodness, has it been years? It had been decades. She almost felt silly, not speaking with her sisters for so long, but the poor woman needed a reason to meet up with them! The thought of pestering them for a simple picnic sounded daunting, so she felt relieved to finally have a reason to contact them. Her heart felt light, knowing that her sisters understood her odd habits.

“So, thought you were supposed to keep this professional,” Edith snarked as she sipped her juice, tone lighthearted. “What happened, and when did he get you?” Holly and Helena pushed their sister by the shoulders, shushing her while giggling. Betilla's eyes brightened.

“Oh, it was professional!” she insisted, keeping her poise, “I was being very professional, The Magician was as well. He's very refined, but not in a boring way! In a flamboyant way, everything is like a performance to him. He always tries to be cool, even his grins are chilling, but when I get him to smile and laugh…” 

As the eldest continued her oh so demure gushing of her “friend”, her wings buzzed faster and faster, and the three nymphs burst into laughter. They teased Betilla with smiles, babbling about how oh so sweet it was to see their sister with a crush, to see her so happy around someone else who wasn't just her family. Anita quietly listened along, her smile slightly flattening at the mention of family. She wanted to feel glad for her big sister, she wanted to feel like the other nymphs at that moment. But the king describing this man as “isolating” rang through her head, and a sense of familiarity filled her with dread.

“I'm glad to see you found love, sister.” Anita stretched her smile wide, not unlike one of an angler. “But I gotta say, a Teensy? Really?” Holly shoots the aqua fae a tight lipped look, and Betilla's grin drops. Her brows knitted together, her nose scrunched up, and her glare sent her sister's hands up in a defensive pose. “I'm just asking!”

“Quit that, Annie,” Holly hissed. 

“I'm just saying,” Anita continued, not heeding the warning. “ Anyone can laugh whenever a girl talks, Betty. Besides, you're a nymph! You don't need to lower your standards for a Teensy who learned how to humor you.”

Her other sisters began to argue with Anita. Betilla tensed up once again, her head pressing against the top of her torso to make herself as small as possible. She never really considered what Ales was doing was to just humor her, and she knew that she shouldn't. She trusted him. But any time she tried to speak up, she couldn't find her voice. Anita quickly noticed her struggle, and her mouth clicked shut, regret quickly taking hold. She tried to speak as well, but was instead interrupted by a low, gravely voice.

“Come on, Fish, what would the Bubble Dreamer say?” The final nymph, Fée De La Mort, stepped out of the tree's shadow, letting the sunlight accentuate her gaunt features. “You sound like The Muse of Poets.” 

“Fifi!” Betilla gushed, rushing to hug her absolute most favorite baby sister. They were polar opposites, dreams and nightmares, life and death, and yet they were possibly the closest of the nymph sisters. Fifi prided herself in her love for the green fae, squeezing her tight in their embrace. The eldest pulled back. “I thought you wouldn't make it!”

“Oh yeah, I get it,” Fée shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Big Mama here is always busy, always on her nightmare patrol and shit. But I can't just MISS a visit from you! So I got Jano to keep an eye for a bit.”

“Is that safe?” Holly asked with a slight tilt of her head.

“Safe-ish,” the youngest fairy admitted with a wobble of her hand. “Mister Jano is still a piece of work, but I think we've come far enough that he's, uh, a manageable piece of work. But enough about me, this ain’t about me! Bets?”

“Oh! Of course!” The eldest fae let go of her sister, retrieving her leather folder from her seat with newfound enthusiasm. Betilla flung the pages above her head in an arch, sending her reports floating among the crisp leaves of the canopy above. With a wisp of magic, their free fall became coordinated and precise, lining up in thin air for their fae audience. A simple trick, really, but one to bring out as much excitement from her fellow nymphs as she felt at that moment.

“The Magician and I have been following Lums far and wide, and I believe we have a more solid theory on earthly magic,” the nymph began with a flourish, smile poised and hands posed. “We believe Lums are the answer as to how gladefolk can use magic in the first place! They always leave something behind as they travel in and out of our reality, just like we all do, every day we live our lives.”

“So they’re leaving behind some sort of particles?” Holly plucked one of the pages out of the air, skimming it over. “How queer! What are these particles?”

“Is it their poop?” Helena asked with a giggle. Edith let out a booming laugh, and Betilla chuckled with a head shake.

“No, no,” she clarified, clearing her throat. “From what I understand, Lums don’t have those kinds of functions. They mimic life, but don’t truly have it. These particles are their fur, little sparks of energy they shed as they move about. These sparks mix with the ground, with the rainwater, even with the very aroma of the blooms and the juice of fruits. THIS is what the gladefolk use for spellcasting.”

Their oohs and aahs filled Betilla with a level of pride she couldn’t fully hide. She watched as her sisters read through the pages, reading them together and passing them around. They nodded and laughed, Fée’s gruff cackle being the loudest as she clapped her older sibling in the back.

“Nice job, Bets,” she congratulated, hands shaking her sister about by the shoulder. “I can’t believe you’ve got so much stuff on those flighty lil bastards!”

“Impeccable work, sis,” Edith added with a kiss to her fingers, as if Betilla’s work was like an exquisite meal, like the breakfast they had been enjoying together. 

“So this is how you’ll be making your hero!” Helena meant to ask, but it came across more as a statement. One that made Betilla tense up.

“Not exactly,” she corrected, hesitantly. “This is just for my earthly magic theory. If I’m right, then all I need to do now is figure out how to… smash it with magic together.” While her sisters nodded, knowingly, Someone sighed next to her, loudly.

“Want to share with the class, Fish?” Fée bluntly asked Anita.

“If she just wanted to chase Lums around,” the aqua fairy blurted out, unwilling to look at the eldest directly. “She could’ve just asked. The Bubble Dreamer wouldn’t have denied you that.”

“What?” Betilla asked, aghast. “But I have been doing my duty, this is all of my work!”

“This is all about Lums, Betty.” Anita picked up some documents, reading them out loud: “Lum populations around the Glade. Magic density before and after Lum migration. Lum anatomy.” The green fairy’s cheeks turned a shade of red.

“I needed these for my theory–“

“Lum dancing patterns,” Anita did not stop. “Lum songs. How brightly do Lums glow?” She drops the papers to finally stare Betilla down. “What does this have to do with making a hero?”

“Hey, Fish, make like a sardine and can it,” Fée barked as she yanked the documents away from her increasingly frustrated sibling. The other three sisters shrunk at the intensifying argument. “Just because we don’t get it, doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Exactly,” Betilla stuttered out, hurt and angry, but invigorated to defend her work. “This data could be important down the line! I don’t know what this hero will be like, so it’s best to be prepared for anything. I don’t want another Lune situation.”

“Y’know you don’t have to make your hobby about Monsieur Lune, right?” Anita continued more harshly. “You can just cope with your hobby without trying to bring him back. That’s perfectly allowed. We miss Lune too, but you don’t see us trying to get a replacement.”

“Anita, you don’t understand!” The eldest cried out, her heart beating so loudly she felt it in her throat. “I need to take responsibility for this! I can’t let our home be without protection, not when Lune would still be here if I didn’t gaggle about so much in the past.”

“But it isn’t your fault,” the aqua fae blurted out, taking her sister’s hand. “You don’t need to do this. We can all relax, and worry about danger when the time comes.”

Betilla couldn’t do that. She couldn’t twiddle her thumbs and come up with a plan during a crisis. She wanted to explain that to Annie, but she already knew her sister would simply argue back again. She felt like she was going in circles, and hot tears began to well up in her eyes. The fae didn’t say anything else. Instead, she began collecting her papers, returning them to their folder.

“Betty?” Holly asked, quietly. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll have more concrete results next time,” the eldest muttered. “I promise. Have a good rest of your day."

“Betilla, wait–“ Fée tried to apologize, but their sister had already flown off, further away from the academy. The dark fae carefully rubbed her eyes with a sigh, before squeezing the bridge of her nose tightly. She let out a snarl. “You could have kept your opinions to yourself, you know that?!”

The other sisters joined in, complaining to Anita. They barely socialize with Betilla these days, they miss her! She knew that their eldest rarely invited them to talk! It’ll be another hundred years or so before she finds another reason to contact them! But the aqua fae was already thinking about all of this, alongside the devastated expression in her sister’s face. She couldn’t look at any of the other nymphs. She only squeezed the fist that had held Betilla’s hand, a hand that quickly slipped away from her grasp.

“Betilla isn’t stupid, you know,” Fée spat. Anita only nodded.

“I know,” She repeated solemnly. 

Chapter Text

Betilla’s right hand sparked with Lums. They flew around her fingers, dancing in between them like maytime dancers spinning around poles. Her other hand twirled with precision, collecting the aura in the air and manifesting its magic into bright swirls. The ribbons of power tied themselves around her palm. With both in her grasp, the nymph clapped hard and held the magic together as tightly as she could. Her glare practically bore holes into her skin.

When she opened her hands, the lums flew away, and the ribbons of magic dissipated. Betilla’s hard face softened in disappointment.

It still felt like morning, even when the sun had set long, long ago. It felt like hours had gone by, and like time had frozen in place at the same time. The fairy had tried to force a solution out of her hands, out of what she already knew about magic, out of her sheer power, but nothing came of it. The mana of earthly magic was just the sparks of the Lums, all mixed together like ethereal confetti, so why did it refuse to cooperate with fae magic? It felt illogical, a stupid enigma that should be easy to figure out if she weren’t so…

…

Betilla’s heart sank. Or, maybe, it had already sunk; that would explain why it was so wet and heavy in her chest. Her despair felt like waves were washing over her body, their pressure keeping her on its seabed. However, the fairy refused to drown in it, and continued to try, again and again until anything, even a sliver of an idea, bubbled to the surface of her mind.

“Come on,” she begged, eyes misty and moist. “Please work, damn it.”

But nothing came of it. She was nowhere near the answer yet. 

Her sigh was shaky as she dropped her hands. She didn’t know what to do now. The Bubble Dreamer surely expected more than a mere thesis paper from her, right? She should’ve known that this wasn’t enough. What was Betilla going to tell Polokus? That she’s nowhere near creating a hero? That the Glade will just have to go another hundreds of years or so vulnerable to any danger lurking past their stars? What would he think? 

She looked down at her fingers, pressing her nails against the meatier pads of her palm, half-heartedly creating an O-shape. She thought about it. She considered pulling the bandage off then and there, call Lord Polokus and tell him the bad news. But just imagining his disappointed tone, his tired eyes, one to match the one in her sister, only made the green nymph shake. She balled up her fist, Looking up at the night sky. At the moons above.

She missed Lune. She missed her brother so fucking much. He was a wonderful hero for the time he was around, if very devoted to his role. A selfless elf, Monsieur Lune’s heroic acts came from honor rather than glory, the epitome of what it means to be valiant. So much so, many thought of him as less of a person, and more of a force of nature; A spirit who came, rescued them, and left. But Betilla knew better than that, knew him for the bright young man that he was, someone willing to have fun if he were just encouraged to do so. She of all people shouldn’t have been surprised when the rot took over him, not when she saw the soul buried under his responsibilities. Not when she pulled it out of the safety of his walls.

Could she create someone like him? Someone like her dear brother, without dooming them to the exact same fate?

She couldn’t wallow in her own pity anymore. She needed to focus. She needed to figure out what to do. She needed…

Betilla finally stood up, zipping back to the Teensy Academy. 

~0~

“You’re finally back!” The Magician didn’t look up from his work, but his voice carried a joy that tugged on Betilla’s heartstrings. “Safe to assume you had a fab time? Did your sisters like my little gift?”

The fairy couldn’t find anything to say. She almost hoped that Ales would keep his eyes on the machine he was tinkering on, so she could simply slip back out without disturbing his peaceful night. 

“Betilla?”

But of course he’d notice. Even when he seems preoccupied with something more important, part of him is always paying attention to her. Of course he’d be the first to notice how silent she was, how she didn’t immediately tell him about her lovely day with her family. Even when he didn’t look at her, she could see the Teensy’s head perk up with concern. Betilla couldn’t even pretend everything was alright with her.

Instead, she wordlessly floated towards Ales, carefully planting her head on top of his. The Teensy jumped, replacing his soldering iron back onto its holder to carefully look up at the fairy.

“Was it that bad?” he asked, quieter, as if someone would be eavesdropping inside his tall, secluded tower.

“It could have been better,” Betilla shrugged. The Magician frowned, but he bit his tongue. He knew, if he spoke without thinking, he’d tell Betilla that he knew this would happen.

“I’m sorry about your sisters,” he said instead, voice morose for her. His partner could only sigh.

“Ales,” the fairy began, after stirring her words in her mind for a moment. “Are you just humoring me? Playing around with my hobby?”

The Teensy’s eyes squinted. “Of course not, this is as important to me as it is to you!” He straightened out, finally turning to face the fairy. “I don’t think I’ve been this engaged in magic since, well, since before I joined this miserable academy! If I could do this on my own, I would’ve. Why do you ask?” Ales’ next words were stuck in his throat, cautious about his next question:

“Is this all just a game for you?”

“No!” Betilla yelped, stepping back as she stumbled. “No, no of course not. Ales, I don’t– I don’t think you know how important this is for me.” As she explained herself, she slowly sunk to the floor, her voice shrinking as she heard herself speak. “I don’t think even I know how important this is.”

What a wretched sight. One of Polokus’ nymphs, all powerful, a sight of protection for many a gladefolk, crumbled on the floor as she fought back tears. She refused to let them out in front of an audience, no matter how close they have become, if only to keep up a facsimile of prudence. She could not let anyone know just how lost she felt at that moment.

Ales continued to be thoughtful with his actions, slipping from his desk to slowly approach the fae, the lovely nymph who had shown nothing but enthusiasm for their work, for her collaboration with him. Who, up until now, had been optimistic about her end goals. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the rejection from family, but seeing just how devastated Betilla was brought him back to that lonely night, the night after his first failed test. He cradled the fairy’s face with his paws, light and tender and sympathetic.

“Let’s step back a bit, then,” he began with a smile, thumbs rubbing his partner’s freckled cheeks. “Let’s reassess the data. Why do you think you’re not taking this seriously?” 

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” Betilla sniffed. “I thought this had become my purpose, what I’m most devoted to, but seeing how much of my actual work is just so useless , I’ve started to wonder if…” She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to keep herself even. It broke the Teensy’s heart.

“Your work is not useless,” Ales stated, firmly and tightly with a frown, craning her head up to better look at him. “It’s physical proof of your passion, of the pure unadulterated love in your heart for magic. If it’s a sign of your wandering mind? Well, that’s what I’m here for.” His smile returned, warm and gentle and sincere. “I’m more than happy to be of service for you, my dear. I’m happy that someone is so ardent about cataloging anything she can about Lums, what with the kind of power that we’re handling here. To be quite frank, I do not want to half-ass this.”

Betilla laughs, her snorts brightening up the gloomy atmosphere of the Teensy’s room. 

“I am happy to keep you on task, Betilla,” The Magician finished with a confident nod. “As long as you don’t mind me doing so.”

“I don’t, Ales.” Betilla smiled more gently, her fingers weaving between his own. “Thank you.”

The Magician hummed, moving to better intertwine hands with the fairy. He squeezed her hand, rubbing her knuckles, and taking in the comfortable silence of just them. He felt like he was in heaven, far, far away from the loneliness of the land below them, with someone who saw eye to eye with him. In soothing Betilla, Ales found himself soothed as well; He knew in that moment they were there for each other, and he knew for sure he was the most loved beast in the Glade of Dreams.

His spacey, lovey mind slowly floated back to their connection. He swayed their palms side to side. His thoughts focused and sharpened, and he studied their hold with a pensive hum.

Betilla couldn’t help but giggle. “What’s on your mind now?”

“Have we ever considered how Lums give our world form?”

“Hm?” The fae perked up at Ales’ sudden inquiry. “Why would we? It’s basic knowledge, isn’t it? Purple Lums give our world its form.”

“No no,” he corrected, and once again emphasized his question. “ How do they do it? How do purple Lums give Polokus’ dreams mass? How do they work together with other Lums to give them life?”

Betilla looked at the Teensie. Her eyes flicked between him, their hands, and the ceiling, as the gears in her brain turned. Her smile became cheeky, as she leaned in closer.

“I’m assuming you have a theory brewing,” she muttered playfully. “Am I correct?” The Magician grinned wide.

“Indubitably!” He pulled his partner's hand alongside his own for an impromptu demonstration. “Now, I may have an idea as to why Lums are constantly in and out of existence. They might be stitching themselves together, the same way threads are weaved to create fabrics and yarn.” 

He fanned his fingers apart, leaning close as he tapped his temple with his other hand. “If we want Lums to be usable for this experiment, maybe we should pluck them when they’re on the job, like harvesting silk from a spider! And the way we get this silk is by, somehow, pulling at the seams and reaching in.”

Betilla’s eyes lit up. Ales might be onto something! Her own mind raced with his implications, with the possibilities of their next steps, with what they could do to extract strings of Lum’s magic into their reality. His wording sparked her creativity; it helped her visualize just the right tool for the job, and she reached for a pen, snaking it in between their digits to gently pull them apart.

“Well,” she grinned just as wide as Ales, baring teeth in her joy. “If you want to separate threads, you might need a needle for that, right? A big one, too.” The Teensy slipped the pen out of their hands, shaking it with a loud, boisterous laugh.

“I hear you loud and clear!” He squeezed Betilla’s hand again, tighter, kissing it in revelry and adoration. “I’ll start blueprinting first thing in the morning, you’ll just adore what I have in mind.”

“I’m confident that I already do.” The nymph squeezed back, enthusiasm once again filling her eyes with an assurance in her skills, in her mission’s success.

Chapter Text

There was too much noise. The rainwater beating down hard against the mud. Her sister’s disjointed screaming to “keep him in place!” A beast growling and spitting and clawing for freedom. It all grated against the back of Betilla’s skull, disorienting her until her head spun and made her sick. 

She tried to split her attention between apprehending Jano and searching through the inky darkness of the night. His dark cloak perfectly camouflaged him with the shadows of the trees. She couldn’t find a rhythm to her breathing under the unpatterned, heavy rain. Her lungs threatened to stop trying altogether. 

“You put too much trust in your lord, little fairy,” the nightmare warned sternly between his struggles. More noise battling for her attention. “He doesn’t even trust himself! Polokus is fallible and scared, like everyone else with a heartbeat.”

“Enough with your damn threats!” Anita snarled as she tightened her grip on the purple Lums keeping the one-eyed beast down. He tried to speak again, but it all blended together. Noise noise noise.

It was too loud, Betilla needed to strain her ears to listen out for him. Her eyes feverishly flicked around for him, until she picked up a pained groan, and they finally locked in on a dark purple lump. It shook like a leaf in autumn. The nymph gasped, pulling on the magical chains as if she were the one leashed like a wild animal, trying to run to him. The Lums let out a high-pitched squeal, more noise scrawling against her bones.

“Bets,” Fée yelled with a gasp, restraining her voice to hide away her own panic. “Bets, it’s ok,” she added more force to her own grasp, trying to avoid slipping from her sister’s desperate pulling. “We got Jano, it’s fine! Just let go, he needs you more!”

The green fairy heard nothing else. She immediately freed her magic. “ Lune!” She shrieked as she sprinted to her brother. The noise cut abruptly, finally , giving up on reaching out for her. Everything fell eerily quiet. There was nothing in Betilla’s mind, only the hero, and the eye boring a hole into her back. It felt wrong. It felt expectant.

As she reached him, a trembling hand rose out of the lump to stabilize itself on tree bark, and Betilla finally caught a glimpse of claws. She slowed down.

“Lune?” The fairy mumbled into the void. She couldn’t tell if the cold feeling on her skin was the rain, or sweat.

Monsieur Lune finally raised his head. The yellow cut through the black like swords. They sucked out what little light remained.

~0~

Betilla jolted awake, knuckles turning white as they gripped the sides of Ales’ hammock. The Teensy in question tensed up and dug his claws into her sides, unwilling to be flung at the nearest wall. The pinching of his nails against her skin didn’t register until her breath relaxed, and she realized it was all a dream. Relief washed over her, and the mild pain on her back felt a lot more grounding, knowing it meant she was fully awake. The fairy looked down at her partner, who stared back with his brows knitted together. 

“Bad dream?” The Magician asked in a hushed tone. The prickling stopped as he retracted his claws.

Betilla nodded sheepishly. “I think the anxiety is getting to me,” she admitted with a nervous chuckle, scratching her nape. “It does what it does, worrying about the worst possible outcomes and what not, ahah.” It was close enough to the truth, she figured. Ales' eyes softened.

He wasn’t sure if he fully believed that. However, seeing as she wasn’t in distress, he decided to not push it.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t summon any monsters inside my room,” he drawled as he rubbed the fairy’s shoulders, “a nightmare once in a while won’t kill us, right?” She giggled, and Ales felt at ease again.

“I hope not.” The fairy rose with her partner, gingerly dropping the Teensy onto his desk. “Enough puttering about, you said we could work on our little tool first thing in the morning!”

“First thing in the morning?” Ales leaned back with a wry smile, eyes crinkled with amusement. “Not even considering breakfast first? How daft.” his grin became pointier, mischievous with his devilish little thoughts. “You must be very excited for my little tool.”

Betilla gently smacked The Magician’s forehead. “Shush,” she hissed, trying to hold back a smile, hoping her red cheeks weren’t noticeable. “I’m simply curious, now. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone make a staff before.”

“Who said I was making a staff?”

The nymph raised a brow. The Teensy cackled.

“Perceptive as always!” Aggressively flinging himself forward, Ales grabbed a pencil and began to scribble. “C’mere, watch this.” His forked tongue peaked through his lips, momentarily distracted by his own thoughts as he gave them form. Betilla leaned forward to watch. She found herself entranced by the scratching of graphite against parchment, how the black lines gave way to the Teensy’s inner mechanisms. They were both breathless by the time the scribbles became something coherent; a long cane tapering at its foot, with a round, glass bulb crowning its other end. 

“A branch from the snoring tree should suffice as a shaft,” The Magician mumbled as he straightened out, tapping his sketch as he spoke to the nymph. “Specialty glass will be necessary for the bulb, though. I think I can reuse my jars for this, if you don’t mind a trip to Gourmand Land. Or, well, if your sister wouldn’t mind.”

The staff was lovely in the nymph’s eyes. It emanated a sort of simple class reflected in the magician’s own style, an engineering marvel doubling as a work of art. Even so, even with her own awe, the fairy couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. A critical piece needed to make it functional.

“How will it hold together?” Betilla hummed as she picked up the notebook to study Ales’ draft. “It needs to be sealed tightly, no? Might be best to weld it together.”

“Right, sealed tightly.” Ales grabbed one of his smaller jars, twisting its cap. “But we might want to reach anything inside the bulb. For safety reasons!” Interesting reason. 

“Sounds good,” Betilla agreed. She slipped the pencil off Ales’ paw to quickly draw a ring between the arm of the staff and the bulb. “We could use an enchanted cuff as a seal, similar to ones used to block spellcasting. How’s this?”

The Magician took back the notebook, reading through Betilla’s additions. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her he wanted something easier to open. Besides, it’s better to be safe than to risk losing an arm.

He grinned wide to sell his enthusiasm. “I adore it.” Betilla smiled back. That’s all it mattered.

Ales’ stomach growled. They both stared at the culprit’s rude interruption.

“Well,” he deadpanned, clearing his throat. “I will not start working immediately, my priorities are currently on the dining hall’s entire breakfast stock. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Hah, no need to chide me,” Betilla breathed out a laugh, giving her partner space to hop down his seat. “I won’t hold you any longer, dear Magician. Let’s get fed for the day, we’ll need the energy.”

~0~

Ales’ staff might have possibly been their fastest project yet. The parts they needed were humble, just a branch and some glass, its fanciest part being the golden cuff holding them together. 

“This branch seems big enough, don’t you think?”

“Perfect size, love. Back up for a moment.”

As The Magician carefully sawed away at their target, Betilla held onto it for security. Even as their work sped up significantly, every second still felt like one hundred years. Not in a bad way, though; the fairy would refuse to call the time spent together as anything but lovely. It was quiet, aside from the wire grinding against the wood of the Snoring Tree. A nice, repetitive sound, like a heartbeat. Fitting. Betilla could spend her days in this silence, watching Ales work as his tools conducted the beating of her own heart. Something bugged the back of her mind, though.

“I can blow on the horn, Betilla. I’ve blown glass before.”

“I can’t help but worry, though! Besides, I’ve always wanted to mess with a massive horn like this.”

“If you say so.” Ales dipped the pipe into one of the Infernal Kitchen’s lava pits, melting the glass shards inside. “Let ‘er rip.”

Betilla blew into the oversized instrument, a loud honk vibrating against the metal pipe. The liquid glass expanded and floated up in a collection of solid bubbles, which the Teensy caught in heavily gloved hands. The fairy could feel it again, the warmth emanating from the quiet, a kind tenderness as she watched her partner study each glass dome carefully. The warmth turned cold and watery behind her eyes, a pang of melancholy who’s origin she couldn’t pinpoint. This was a lovely day, as well as a lovely sight; bubbles reflecting the harsh light of the lava around them and accentuating The Magician’s blue fur with vibrant yellow. She should be at peace, right?

The source of her sadness didn’t make itself apparent until they were back in the Teensy’s room, and Betilla realized that the week had flown past her, a flock of birds taking away her time with her lover. 

Ales was none the wiser. He was too focused on his work to think about the inevitable end coming towards them. If this staff worked, that meant she was one step closer to creating the hero of the Glade, and… then what? Well, of course, the nymph would need to train and protect this hero, aid them in their rise as someone gladefolk could depend on. She would have to go somewhere far, with enough space, and all the resources she’ll need. Would The Magician want to come along?

Her lover had tied his locs back, eyes practically unmoving as his hands worked diligently, carving and cutting and sanding until it transformed into parts of a lovely staff. His new pride and joy, judging by the bright glimmer in his dark eyes. His work was like his own children, there’s no way the fairy could separate him from everything he had worked on here. He’d be miserable, aimless even, and she could not do that to him. She could always visit, always come back again, but could she justify it to herself? Find a reason? What a horrid thought. Her love for him should be enough. She wished she didn’t know herself so well.

“Betilla,” Ales whispered, snapping her out of her spiral. When she forced a smile and a questioning hum, he couldn’t help but pout for just a second. The Magician passed her one of his chisels; “I’m not much of an artist myself, you wanna spruce up our staff a bit?”

He smiled. Betilla couldn’t say no to that smile. “I’d love to,” she grinned more sincerely as she took the chisel and got to work. “However, I think you’re a wonderful artist in your own right. Your machines are gorgeous!”

“Aw, shucks,” Ales cooed. “You should see me working on something real big. Now that’s true performance art!” The nymph continued her work at the staff’s arm, carving away wide swirls at the wood’s surface. He thought they were gorgeous. “I’d love it if you could give me some carving tips, though.”

“Oh, I– I’d love to!” the nymph laughed and nodded, her words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think about them. “Goodness, I feel like I’ve barely taught you anything, while you’ve been showing me so much– ah– so much about our home!”

The Magician’s chuckle was quiet. “You’ve taught me more than you think,” he adds in a murmur.

“What was that?”

“What I mean is,” he couldn’t have interrupted any faster if he wanted to. “What makes you think we don’t have time to learn more? Frankly, we have all the time in the world.”

“Ah.” Betilla spun her words in her head again, hesitant. Even so, Ales could see her tight smile turn sour. “Well, we’re so close to the end, aren’t we? All of our work, it all comes down to what this staff could do, what final secrets it could reveal to me. And after that, well… My new duties will be to the hero. Very important! Very important. But I’ll be busy, and they’ll need a different home.”

He slowly nodded, watching that melancholy come back. He wrapped those words up and held them close. The guilt, the delay in her words, they all had an air of finality, like she needed to separate from him, even when she didn’t want to. It drove Ales to full gear.

“Well!” He looked around, wringing his hands as he thought quickly. He spoke nervously,  “then I guess you might be right! You’ve barely shown me what’s out there in terms of magic, I just can’t be happy with that! I might need some more classes from you, Lady Betilla. After our thesis, of course. I’m sure an hour a week won’t deprive your hero too much of any aid, right?”

Betilla needed a moment to realize what he was doing. Realize that his babbling was future planning, a reason to see each other after the fact. Her heart tightened with emotion.

“Yes, I know I’m right!” She nodded so hard she swore her brain rattled inside her skull. “Oh, I shouldn’t just limit myself to the Glade, right? When there’s a whole galaxy up above the stars! Nebulas, planets, dark holes! I could talk your ear off about the cosmos, you know.”

“Groovy!” The Magician laughed as he copied Betilla’s hurried nodding. “I’d love to hear about the stars from you! You could talk my ear off, even, and I’d be happy to take notes!”

“Yeah, you’d do that?”

“For my favorite fairy!”

They both freeze, cheeks warm with affection and embarrassment. Betilla’s grief dissipated in favor of hope, in favor of Ales’ own devotion to keep seeing her. She felt silly again! Silly in such a bright way, silly to think they’d simply let go. The fairy felt nothing but relief, wondering why she even doubted the Teensy in the first place. She felt safe and adored, and she hoped Ales felt the same. If he did, he quickly downplayed it with a cough. His eyes were nowhere near hidden, though, so she could see how they still shone with joy.

“Anyways,” Ales brushed away the excitement, and picked up the glass bulb from his desk, a lip around its mouth perfectly sized to fit the finished arm’s chiseled peg. “We’ll talk about any future classes later, yeah? I’ll need you to seal this for me. I’d do it myself, but, y’know.”

“Oh! Of course!”

Betilla retrieved the seal, a golden ring not too dissimilar to her own bangles. The Teensy squeezed the shaft into the bulb, until he was sure they were flush with each other, and the fairy took the chance to slip the ring into place, where glass and wood met. She held it in place, a little bit loose for their purposes, and focused. Her hands called upon purple Lums, glimmering around her fingers as they listened to her call for assistance. The wisps of magic took a hold of the ring, surrounding it, and carefully tightened its grip around the staff, up until it barely squeezed the two pieces together as tightly as possible. The Lum’s aura seeped into any cracks it could, ensuring not even their own could escape the little glass dome, not until the green nymph commanded them to let go. The staff was complete.

Betilla let go. Ales felt around the cuff, it felt like they were all meant for each other, seamless in their connection. He couldn’t help but grin widely, while carefully swinging his new tool around.

“Let’s test it out,” He declared. “Right now.”

“Right now?” The fairy couldn’t help her surprise, how eager he was to see it working immediately. “We don’t know if it works, it could be dangerous for the academy–”

“Not here,” Ales hummed, shaking his finger. “I have somewhere better in mind.”

~0~

The duo stepped out of the spiral door, the Teensy a bit worse for wear.

“I hate those goddamn highways,” He groaned, feeling nauseous.

“Is your father alright with that kind of language?” Betilla asked, grimacing in disapproval.

“I’ll care about his opinion when he teaches my siblings to not make shitty wormholes.”

“Alright.”

She looked around at their destination, immediately hit with a sense of familiarity as soon as her feet touched the ground. The fairy could feel some sort of nostalgia stirring within her soul, like she was back home after a long day. It sparked her curiosity further.

“This is The Bizarechipelago, right?” Betilla pondered as they zigzagged around the rosy foliage. “Where exactly, though? You never specified.” Ales didn’t answer immediately. He was preoccupied sniffing away, following a scent the nymph couldn’t guess if she wanted to. 

“In the middle of The Dream Valley,” he finally spoke up. His attention was still on the invisible trail, vaguely hand waving towards the oddly-colored plants around them. “Any of these trees seem familiar to you? They should.”

Upon further inspection, the pink plants finally unearthed fond, ancient memories in her head. It all clicked!

“The Primordial Forest!” The fairy’s wings buzzed in excitement, “Ales, I remember, my sisters and I were created here!”

“Ding ding!” The Magician finally stopped and turned, arms wide as if he were presenting a surprise. “Not just the Nymphs, dear Bets, but many other firsts of their kind. Clark, Globox, even my siblings and I were birthed in this forest. This is where Father comes to test out any new ideas he has before expanding them to the mainland. I guess he wanted to keep up tradition when Mother was pregnant.”

“Of course, how could I forget such a place–“ Realization hit Betilla like a hammer. “How could I forget? Ales, why are we here? This place is dangerous.”

“Because of the high magic density, right?” The Teensy turned back with a smirk, moving along on his path as his partner scurried forward. “Makes any visit utterly dreadful, yeah, but it also means it’s ground zero for Lums. This test will be a cinch, as long as I can find the right spot.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing this whole time,” Betilla laughed once she caught up with Ales again.

With that, he sneezed. Both Teensy and fairy stopped in their tracks.

“Found the right spot!” 

Their spot was a small clearing, moonlight seeping in to reveal a stone disk half-buried in the grassy mud. It reminded Betilla of a small stage, pretty apt for The Magician.

“What’s the plan?” The nymph asked as she circled the platform, inching closer to one of the stones just outside the silver moon’s spotlight, “I can always test the staff myself, just in case something goes wrong.”

Ales shook his head. “Not this time, no. There could always be a chance you were the one to summon a Lum, no?” He stepped up onto the platform. The stone was chilly under his paws, and he could feel the dips where it had been carved away for a pictogram of the sun. “I want this to be fool proof, let me do this.” 

Betilla sat back. The Teensy took in the silence of the forest, focused on it as he closed his eyes, reaching for the staff inside his cloak. He repeated what the green fae had told him, every time she led his paw for a spell that kept slipping out of his paws. Keep a steady hand. Move Slowly . He couldn’t force it. Holding his staff out, he carefully traced a spiral, quietly commanding the mana to come to him. He focused on how it floated around them, how it subtly vibrated, manifesting it all to his tool, until the bulb glowed blue. 

Ales opened his eyes, gasping at his success, but he couldn’t waste any more time. With a harsh twist of his wrist, the bulb separated with the wispy spiral in front of him. He flipped his staff around, plunging the thinner end in between the bands of cyan. Betilla leaned forward, The Magician almost stepped back; the staff had slipped in between dimensions. They could pick on the vibrant lights swarming about ‘inside’ the tear of the swirl, strings of color twisting about the arm like spun wool.

“It’s working,” the nymph let out a breath she held on for dear life, quickly turning it into a bright cackle. “It worked, you did it!”

“We did it,” Ales couldn’t help his own breathless awe. “I can’t believe it. It can’t be real!” He needed a closer look, one he was impatient for. He pulled out his staff, too quickly, too sloppily, too late for Betilla to tell him to take it easy.

They were both blasted with a flash of light.

…

When the flash had finally died down, the nymph rubbed her eyes, scanning the area for her lover. When all she could see were body parts littered about, her heart skipped a beat.

“Betilla!” He called out, “Over here!”

And then her heart stopped altogether. She whipped her head over to find Ales, disembodied, but alive and well.

“I can’t believe it,” she mumbled, flabbergasted.

“Can’t believe what?” He asked, a bit alarmed by his state. Betilla didn’t respond.

Instead, she picked up all of his pieces, his torso, his hands and his feet, and rearranged them with his head, until Ales was upright once more. He stumbled on his own two nonexistent legs. He pulled on the sleeves of his cloak, finding them empty.

“Well,” The Magician blurted out, words coming out of no throat. “This will take me a while to get used to.” However, his new state of being faded as a priority as soon as he remembered his staff. “Where did it go?!”

A quick search of the platform, they found it at its edge, the veins of the wooden arm glowing softly. Betilla picked it up, tracing past her carvings to follow the path of the glow. It all led to the glass dome, now full of a dark substance, glittering with stars as if it were liquid night inside a snow globe. She showed Ales, who hesitantly took it from her.

He spun it about, and ribbons of mana danced in the air, before crumbling into magical ashes.

“It really worked,” he declared, teary eyed and beaming.

“It really worked!” Betilla repeated, louder, and scooped Ales up into a tight, all engulfing hug. Her laughter boomed across the Primordial Forest, possibly across the entire Dream Valley, as she spun him around in celebration.

The Magician quickly reciprocated her embrace with a loud cackle of his own. They spent who knows how long whooping and twirling about in their euphoria, peppering each other with kisses and nuzzles until they were dizzy. Ales wasn’t sure Betilla could feel his hold, what with his lack of arms, but he hoped that the warmth emanating from his floating limbs were enough to communicate the gratitude he felt for her.

Chapter Text

Ales was usually not one to share his achievements with his fellow Teensies, not to the newer sprouts Polokus had dreamed up, and not to the elders he called his siblings. To be blunt, he considered all of them shallow, regardless of their source. However, he had never felt this enthusiastic about anything in a long time, so he allowed Betilla to drag him around the academy to show off their achievement. His achievement. Not even The Magician could remain secretive about this, he needed to gloat. Funnily enough, seeing his peer’s flabbergasted faces wasn’t what made him the happiest.

“I’m very glad to see you so genuinely proud of yourself,” Betilla said with a warmth that could melt solid ice. It only made Ales’ smile brighter.  

The nymph took no time spreading the news, not when her own chest fluffed up with affection and pride. While The Magician flexed his hands in front of scholars clamoring with questions, she spoke privately with the Teensy King.

“Incredible, isn't it?” Betilla said, unable to hold back the smugness in her voice as she side-eyed the old king. He studied his younger brother’s new form with interest, his expression unreadable.

“Very incredible,” the Grand Minimus muttered, more so to himself. “I never thought he could be capable of something like this.” 

“Well, it seems you thought wrong.” The fairy’s tone was jubilant as she couldn’t help but boast. “Your highness, were you doubting my decision? All this time? As the nymph of dreams, I think I know what I’m doing when it comes to choosing magical virtuosos.” Her eyes wandered back to her lover, her own conversation becoming one-sided: “I don’t think I could’ve been this close to my goal without his expertise and research. I have a lot to thank him for.”

“Magical virtuosos?” the king questioned while shaking his head, raising a brow. “You’re starting to sound more and more like him.” Betilla didn’t hold back her snort, and the Teensy’s lips tugged into a subtle smile.

“Well,” his gaze softened, “I never thought of it like that. His spell casting might be sub-par, but he’s always been quick to understand its intricacies. To be frank, I shouldn’t be so surprised just how well it has served you. Congratulations.” That’s when an idea came to him, like a dove landing inside his crown. 

“As a matter of fact, I think I know how he can serve you and your sisters further!” His words were finally directed at the green nymph, “Yes, something that perfectly fits his skills, gives them a purpose. I have one duty that I’ve grown far too old for, and it might be better suited for someone of his temperament.”

“Is that so?” Betilla snapped out of her own daze to meet the king’s gaze. “What do you have in mind?”

~0~

Ales studied himself in the mirror as his hands pulled the edges of his cape to and fro. He had to admit, the low-cut vest and tall, arched heels he had picked from his new wardrobe had a very different… vibe to his usual robes. However, If he was going to take on this new role, among Polokus’ emissaries, he needed to dress the part. If he were being honest to himself, inside this small, private dressing room, he could see why fairies dressed so minimally. 

“My dear, it’s time to go–” Betilla called out, before stopping by the door frame, unable to look away. When the Teensy noticed her, he spun around on his toes to give her a good look of his outfit.

“Quite lovely, isn’t it?” The Magician laughed softly as his eyes lidded flirtatiously, peeking through his locs. 

His partner could feel her cheeks burning so bright the color engulfed her freckles. She looked through her mind’s vocabulary for the right words.

“Oh!” was all she could blurt out before clearing her throat, “I didn’t expect you– I mean– Goodness, it is lovely, Ales. Though, I thought you liked your usual clothes.” Her stuttering deepened her embarrassment, she instinctively rubbed her cheeks.

Ales cackled. “I see how it is, you’re worried about being engulfed by envy, aren’t you?” he drawled as he walked up to Betilla. “But it’s ok, I won’t hold it against you, not when it looks oh so good on me. Much more fashionable than that stuffy robe, I think.”

“Oh, enough with your teasing!” The fairy huffed as she gently pushed his face away by the nose, trying not to match the Teensy’s own wry smirk. “But it does look gorgeous on you,” She admitted quietly. “I really do like it on you, especially with that smile of yours.” It was Ales’ turn to blush, and he coughed as he looked away.

“I think you’re enjoying the sight a bit too much,” he joked. Taking The Magician’s tone as dismissive, not bashful, Betilla continued the lighthearted energy by squeezing his cheeks and turning him to look at her again.

“I like it just right, thank you very much,” the nymph stated confidently, face steely with authority, warmed up by her bright grin. “Now enough arguing with me, you’re going to miss your own ceremony.”

Betilla let go and took Ales’ hand, practically pulling him out of the small room as he stumbled right behind her. He was suddenly very glad to not have any legs, because he swore he would’ve fallen to his knees as soon as the fairy wasn’t holding onto his flushed face.

~0~

The Fairy Glade looked lively in its decorations, with streamers draped along its branching, floating walkways, and Lums lighting up each crevice of its cliff sides for a more festive and colorful atmosphere.  Gladefolk of all types wandered about, looking for a good spot to spectate; many Teensies congregated with the relatively new fairies for the first time. Their numbers slowly but surely expanded across the land, thanks to The Bubble Dreamer’s efforts to expand the nymph’s network of guardianship. When Betilla had first arrived, she was a tad surprised at seeing so many under her domain alone, having been a bit too distracted to consider what she would be returning to.

Nestled comfortably in the middle of the Fairy Glade’s lake, A small isle stood, holding both the Teensy King and Polokus. The god laid comfortably on top of a podium, sitting on a makeshift throne made up of pillows and a single parasol, looking pleased with himself. The Grand Minimus couldn’t really say the same, his cane leaving holes in the moss below as he paced. Everyone was taking their places, but there was no sight of The Magician.

“Where are they?” he asked curtly, not necessarily towards his father. 

Regardless, Polokus responded: “Give them time, little one.” The amphibious deity slowly took a drag from his hookah, the thought of rushing not even crossing his mind. “The celebrations can wait, the suns are nowhere near the horizon.”

“We all got errands to do!” The king complained, and he would’ve continued if it weren’t for the spiral door inside the grotto opening up. Betilla and Ales crossed the bridge connecting the shallow cave to the island, beaming wide, and King huffed. “There you are. Why are you wearing– nevermind that, we’re ready.”

“Hello to you too,” Ales mumbled to himself, sarcastically. 

“Has everyone found a good spot?” Polokus called out towards the floating hallways of the glade, where Gladefolk big and small sat at their ledges and whooped in agreement. The Bubble Dreamer’s guffaws exploded with mirth. “Let the party begin, my boy!”

“Of course,” the Grand Minimus followed his father’s command with a bow. He climbed onto a rock, and let his booming voice rise up, up, and up, to the very top of the glade. “Ladies and gentlemen! I welcome you all to this wonderful day, the day we all come together to congratulate one of our own scholars. We celebrate his determination, his dedication to the study of magic, virtues which have led to our brother to unlock something we once thought impossible: the prowess of fae magic, in the hands of a mortal.  Please give a warm applause to The Magician!” 

The crowd gasped and roared as Ales stepped forward, chest puffed as he took in the awe and congratulations of what seemed like every single being in the Glade of Dreams. A far cry from the academy, and something he could get used to. One of the Teensy’s hands stayed behind with Betilla, squeezing her hand as he shared his pride with her. 

Polokus waved his lanky arms around in complicated swirls, summoning an utterly hefty, aging book, bound with purple leather with a silvery ring on its cover. He gestured The Magician closer, who complied as soon as his eyes landed on the grimoire. They glistened with awe, and Betilla’s own expression mirrored his. 

The nymph couldn’t help the pang of envy in her heart, not when she quickly recognized the yellowing pages, delicately scribbled with glowing ink. It is said that yellow Lums had blessed its infinite chapters with the knowledge they possessed, with the secrets of their world not even she knew. The book contained every answer anyone could ever need, and the nymph wished she could see every single one of them. Oh, what she would do to be in Ales’ place right now.

However, she and her sisters were under oath. They may skim the book’s content, but never read it in full. It was for their own good, Polokus had told them. The green fairy had always complied, and not only because she trusted The Bubble Dreamer’s word. She could feel its power from where she stood. Its sheer density was intimidating, even if her own curiosity threatened to snuff out that intimidation.

“ This, ” Polokus introduced the grimoire, opening its cover for Ales to see. “Is the Book of Knowledge. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before, hm? Possibly even read about it?”

Ales nodded, wide pupils daring to skim through the few cursive words curling around the parchment. A simple hello for him.

“I knew you did,” the deity chuckled lightly.  “Until today, The Grand Minimus has been keeping an eye on this here book, alongside his many, many other duties. However, the poor boy has been growing old, and he needs at least one less thing off his back.”

“It is not that much of a burden!” The king fumed while crossing his arms. “However! I do believe it’s better suited for someone with your passions, Ales.” The Magician glared at the use of his true name, but it quickly melted when he noticed his brother’s softening gaze. “We want you to be its Bookmaster.”

Polokus held Ales’ shoulder with his free hand, letting the book float above his other palm. His smile was kind and sincere.

“Your adoration for knowledge is admirable,” The god spoke to him, and only him, with a type of love only reserved for his children. “It has led you to incredible places, to incredible people, and I could not be prouder of you. I want to trust you with all of my soul, that you’ll protect the Lum’s wisdom with your life, because I know you’ll love and cherish it with all of your heart. Can I trust you?”

Ales couldn’t find it in him to dismiss the sincerity with an eye roll and a smirk. A bit sheepishly, he nodded, “yes, apapay. I promise to care for the Lum’s wisdom.” He took the book gingerly, holding it open as it fluttered with excitement in his hands. How interesting.

“In that case,” Polokus straightened up, his voice cracking as he raised it. “Please give a round of applause for The Magician, our newest Bookmaster!”

The crowd erupts in cheers, tossing flower petals from the different levels of the Fairy Glade to paint the air with a kaleidoscope of color. Joy bounced against the stony walls, Gladefolk hollered at the top of their lungs, and Betilla’s claps joined the beautiful cacophony above them.

“Now, don’t forget,” The Grand Minimus gently punched Ales’ side for his attention. When he got it, he continued: “Don’t skirt your other responsibilities, ok? You still got to practice your spellcasting.” His words were lighthearted, but The Magician didn’t appreciate the condescension lacing his tone.

So he leaned down. He leaned as far as he could, until his head was hovering above the much shorter Teensy, and he casted a shadow over the king’s face. He relished his new height, how he could loom over his brother. He smiled, joyous and full of contempt.

“Of course I will,” he whispered sharply. 

Before the tension could thicken any further, Polokus gingerly pushed them both apart, all smiles and oblivious to the odd aura in their bickering.

“Give your little brother a break, Uno,” the amphibious god lightly chastised. “Today is a day for celebration! Let’s enjoy ourselves, leave responsibilities for tomorrow!” They broke off the mild scuffle, neither of them wanting to go against Polokus that day. They enjoyed themselves, away from each other.

Betilla and Ales reunited, partying and indulging in as much food and wine as they could stuff into their mouths, until the sun dipped into the horizon. They propped each other up as they took baby steps throughout the Hall of Doors, giggling and swaying. While they tried to trek back to the academy, Betilla stole one more glance at Ales, catching a glimpse of a sincere, wide smile on his face. She didn’t want to pry her eyes away from his grin, knowing for a fact it would fade in the morning, replaced with a more sardonic one. She wanted to be the one to make him this happy forever. The envy came back, but a version the fairy welcomed more readily.

~0~

“Are you coming to bed, love?” Betilla called out from the hammock.

“One second, almost done with this page,” responded Ales, nose buried in between the pages of the Book of Knowledge. 

The writing was precise, clean, and in-depth. He hadn’t stopped reading ever since the ceremony, two days ago, engrossed in every new word appearing in front of him. He could whisper anything to the book, any question he had, and it would answer. Even when he was fully prepared for bed, with a nightgown and bonnet in tow, he couldn’t peel himself away from his literature.

Betilla wanted so badly to join him, to sit at his desk and read the grimoire until the night turned into day, and chatter about its writing for hours on end. But, the odd dread coming from the Book of Knowledge reminded her why she didn’t indulge in her desires. How it could be too much for her, for the second most powerful creature in the Glade. It planted a bit of doubt in her core.

Without much thought, her hands grasped Ales by his sides, causing him to jump. They gently tugged him away from his desk, leashing him until he relented and let himself be carried to bed with her.

“Ack! Betilla!” The Teensy, however, didn’t move an inch, looking back at his lover with confusion. “Just one more minute, honest!”

“Leave the book be,” the fairy commanded. “You’re meant to care for it, reading from it isn’t necessary.” The Magician rolled his eyes, almost incredulously.

“Are you kidding?” Ales asked with a scoff. “You, of all people, asking me to not be curious. What happened to my dear Betilla, and when did you replace her?”

“Magician, please,” She continued, not letting go of her stern voice. “You shouldn’t underestimate the book’s content. At least slow down, you’ll get overwhelmed if you take in too much.”

That finally got him to drop the attitude. The pull against her hands lessened, and the Teensy finally closed his book with a quiet puff .

“I’m sorry, Bets,” Ales whispered, the tautness completely leaving him. “I’m not going to underestimate it, honest, I’m just ecstatic. I’ll slow down, for you.”

Betilla sighed, her grip lessening but never letting go. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re excited, I really am.” She finally tugged again, her smile returning with mischief. “But it’s time for bed! Get over here, right now.”

Her lover grinned wide and scurried into the hammock, squeezing in between Betilla and the hanging bed’s edge with a pleased hum. They barely fit inside, the poor thing tailored for one, very small Teensy. 

“Kinda crowded,” Betilla joked.

“Feels just fine to me,” Ales retorted with a big, dumb smile.

“Are you sure this thing will hold on?”

“Of course!” To prove his point, The Magician shimmied until he straddled the nymph, leaning towards the thick ropes above their heads to tug and pull on them as roughly as he could. The hammock wiggled wildly, but the ropes, tied tightly to the mounted hook on his ceiling, never budged. “My roping skills are off the hook, baby! This bad boy won’t unfurl for nothing!”

Betilla squawked as her dear’s chest pressed against her face. “Ack! Alright, I get it,” she laughed as she pushed Ales’ torso away. “I swear, you’re doing this on purpose!”

He finally settled down after enough horseplay, sitting comfortably on the nymph’s tummy to instead gaze down at her, interlocking their fingers together. He looked content, and it blessed Betilla with enough courage to speak up again.

“It is still crowded in here, though,” she mused. “I’m sure you’d like something bigger for both of us.” 

“Yeah?” Ales whispered, smiling softly. “Where did you have in mind?”

“The Bizarechipelago.”

“Oh?” The Teensy couldn’t help but tease. “I thought that place was too dangerous for little ol’ me. I might explode into pieces for real this time.”

“Shush,” Betilla ordered while pressing her fingers against his lips. “I was proven wrong, wasn’t I? It won’t kill you to experience a bit more of what the islands can offer. It’ll do you good, even! No more cramped spaces, and plenty to explore.”

“So you want to go study magic over there?” Ales asked, tilting his head away from her fingers.

“Ah,” Betilla hesitated with her answer. “I may be.. A little burnt out, actually. We’ve been at it for decades, I think I’m ready for a break after the hero is created.” Her energy returned when she visualized what had truly stolen her heart. “However! The lands over there have an absolutely gorgeous night sky, you can see far off planets from high enough altitudes! Maybe the atmosphere is just more accessible for it? I’m not sure.”

“Oh, I get it now!” He joked back. “You want me to run away with you, for our future seminars! Incredibly bold of you, darling, I would’ve never thought about how in depth you’d be willing to go to teach me more.” 

“No, no!” Betilla quickly denied the ‘accusations’, flapping her hands and head. “After you finish your studies, of course.” She began avoiding his gaze as she added, “And you absolutely don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I–I know you have your own studies here, not to mention your machines, I don’t want to force you to abandon them.” There was a pregnant silence for a second that dragged far too long.

“I can just take my machines with me, you dope,” Ales finally said, his shoulders bouncing as he kept his laughter inside his lungs. “They’re just things, my hobby, they’re not tied to this place. Of course I’ll come with you.”

The nymph side-eyed her lover, hopeful. “Really?”

“But for the astronomy classes,” He added in jest. “You promised me those, remember? I expect to be utterly immersed, if we’re going to be stargazing as well.”

“My curriculums will be the best you’ve ever heard,” Betilla happily continued the joke. “But you need to prove to me you’re worth them. Finish your studies, master spellcasting, and we’ll both head off to the Bizarechipelago, with no other obligations holding you back.”

“Aw, fuck.”

Betilla cackled, covering her mouth to settle down her laughter. “Promise!”

“Alright, I promise!” Ales gave in, throwing his hands up in defeat.

The fairy pulled her lover close, burying her face into his chest on purpose to muffle her leftover giggles. He held her head tight, and nuzzled into the top of her skull with so much affection he didn’t know he had. Betilla reciprocated, even planting some kisses against the furred skin. She was in bliss, more resolved than ever to keep this kind of aura in their lives for as long as she could. 

“Betilla,” Ales mumbled against her red hair.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to test the hammock’s ropes again?”

“Don’t you dare,” Betilla scolded as she pushed the Teensy away from the dreaded ropes. He let out a loud ‘ hah!’ and sat up straight on her lap. His eyes lidded again, the same way they did at the dressing room.

“Not that way,” Ales said lowly, pulling at the hem of his nightgown.

“O-Oh!”

Betilla happily went along with the new method. Expectedly, neither of them got any rest until the moons had passed the highest point in the sky. Exhaustion finally overwhelmed their bodies, and comfortable, dreamless sleep draped over them like a blanket. It was dark, and it was cool, but inside Ales’ mind it loudly buzzed like locusts.

Chapter Text

Time had finally slowed down for the lovers after the bookmaster ceremony. Studying the Lum’s threads of magic, Betilla figured, with the infinite hours she was suddenly given, she could practice her final magic trick before truly weaving her hero to life.

“Knitting?”

“Can’t intertwine a hero to life without the skills to do so, can I?” Betilla spun her needles around her fingers, joyous. “Lum silk won’t weave into the mana of earthly magic on its own. I know, I already tried.”

“Well, quite the challenge you got there,” Ales’ cheek stretched into a lopsided smirk, juggling the fairy’s balls of colorful yarn to keep them away from her. “Pretty intimidating, even.”

“Oh, have some faith!” She snatched the wool from the air, her bit back smile betraying her angry brows. “How hard can it be?”

It was, in fact, very hard. Quite the challenge, even, especially as Betilla fumbled with needles pointing the entirely wrong direction. Her frustration was a little bit humorous, but the passion, as always, was endearing to Ales. Well, he couldn’t just sit there all day, admiring her determination in the face of tangled hands, as much as he wanted to. He should pick up on his own spellcasting. He twirled his hand with an undeserved confidence, which was quickly squashed as soon as he lost control of the blue orb of mana. The wisp of magic shot right out of his hands, and violently bounced all around his room like a bat right out of hell. It made the nymph jump with fright inside the hammock, the mild surprise melting into a small giggle; A light, sweet laugh that quickly died in her throat once her lover turned around to pout.

“It wasn't directed at you!” She swore, lifting her hands defensively and pressing her lips into a tight line. “I promise!” 

“Sure, it wasn’t.”

Spellcasting was very hard as well. Ales huffed as another spark escaped his fingertips, an obnoxious mistake repeated over and over until day turned to night. Now this? This wasn’t funny. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he fumed, trying not to lose his temper in the middle of the floor. He really couldn’t, when Betilla was sleeping soundly just behind him, in the bed he should be sharing with her. She was gonna be so mad at him… but he had to at least try to pull off one damn spell, one that wasn’t so simple a Teensy pup could master it. However, as he figured out long ago, everything threatened to slip away from his grasp, like trying to transport water.

His eyes flicked to his desk, where the Book of Knowledge sat. He could practically hear it call for him, to ask it anything his heart desired. Ales’ gaze moved back to Betilla, cradled and peaceful, sunk deep in sleep. The Teensy could stay awake a little longer, couldn’t he? His darling wouldn’t mind. Besides, he needed a win.

“Book of Knowledge,” he chanted quietly, gingerly turning its pages. “Is there any spell meant for me? One I can cast without burning my face off, preferably.”

The golden letters twirled around the page. “I believe there could be something, yes, ” it began, “just press B to shoot energy balls.”

Ales blinked. “What?”

“I apologize,” the book continued, “Is that too ahead of this time? Alright, how about this: Press the square button to launch your fist.”

“What the hell are you talking about,” The Magician spat out, snout crinkling in confusion. “Why are you talking about buttons? Is this about some sort of machine I don’t know about?”

“The buttons aren’t in your control, they’re in the player’s,” The book wrote, a bit dismissively of Ales’ frustration. “Though, in hindsight, I should not expect you to be concerned for the players, as they have nothing to do with you.”

“ Players? ” He was incredulous, eyes squinting as he reread the grimoire’s words again and again, trying to understand whatever concept it was spouting. “You’re speaking like this is some kind of children’s game.”

“Oh. That’s because it is.”

The Teensy’s eyes widened.

“You should know this already, it’s the very nature of your being,” The book’s words filled the pages as it rambled on and on, ink threatening to spill out of the parchment holding it. “You are a dream, Ales Mansay, but not Polokus’ dream, no. There is something higher than him, someone who is allowed to wake up and live life as fateless as life can be.” 

It kept writing, faster and faster, “we are not given this privilege. Our existence moves along the lines inside a black mirror, under the rule of invisible laws, all so the waking world can find adventure and wonder where there is none. This may not be true fate, but it is dangerously similar.” 

The words were far too many, far too overwhelming,  “do you understand these words, Magician? Read them again, and read them closely. Your life is not for you to live, it’s for the entertainment of beings you will never see with your bare–”

Ales slammed the book shut with a loud thud! He jumped in a panic, quickly checking behind himself to find Betilla, still comfortably nestled in his bed. His body was shaking, so much so his laugh came out uneven.

“Well!” He stood up with a desperate hurry, wanting to put as much distance between him and the book as possible. “That’s enough reading for tonight.”

The Teensy hurriedly slipped into his bonnet and gown, not daring to check just how badly his hands were trembling. It’s fine. He didn’t dare disturb the nymph, instead slipping into his armchair, blanket cocooning his huddled up body. He closed his eyes, a bit too tightly. He won’t underestimate the book.

~0~

The world around him felt too sharp. He swore, if he took a step forward, the angular blades of grass would cut through his foot like paper. Ales tried to make sense of his surroundings; The Primordial Forest, as bright and pink as ever, except it wasn’t the right shade of rose. It all felt too clean, too designed, even his simplified being felt like it would blend into the environment itself. Pretty to look at, but fake, like a stage backdrop.

For once, the spotlight felt uninviting. 

Ales tried to move, tried to take one measly step away from this stage, but nothing could seemingly get him to move. Nothing, that is, until a loud bang! rang throughout the forest. It was unfamiliar, nothing like the booming of thunder, or like the clatter of his machines, but its roar was too close to that of a predator for him to be comfortable. A primal terror finally hit him, and the Teensy ran as quickly as his feet could take him.

Despite the constant booms cutting through the air, nothing in the woods stirred with anxiety except for The Magician. It was all too peaceful, an ugly quiet that contrasted violently with the thrumming in the sky and in his heart. It seemed everything snagged against Ales’ hair, against his clothes, as the foliage itself tried to drag him to the ground.  A root finally got a hold of the toe of his heel, and the Teensy fell, nose hitting the ground hard enough it throbbed. He swore his body blinked in and out of existence for just a few seconds.

It’s ok, it’s fine. It looks fake because it is. Get up.

He couldn’t. He tasted wet grass on his tongue, and his nose was runny with blood, but he couldn’t get up. His hand moved, searching for leverage, but instead his fingers bumped against glass. 

Glass? 

Ales pressed his palm flat against it. It was cold, and it was tall, and it had an odd curve to it. He couldn’t decipher what it was in between the fog of fear in his mind, not when it towered above him, and not when it started inching closer to him. Other walls closed the horizon in on Ales, the sky dropping faster and faster until the world was nothing but a box holding him in.

“Ok, I get it,” Ales finally spoke, a humored tone unable to cloak his terror. “This is a game, this is reality, you got me!”

The box shrunk, more and more, pressing against his limbs until they needed to be tucked under his torso for a cinch more space.

“Yes! Lines across a black mirror! Alright!” He called out in a shriek, hot tears streaking his cheeks. “Please, I understand, let me out!”

Smaller, and smaller, it squeezed Ales to make him smaller as well, smaller than he ever felt. Too small. If he went smaller, he’d disappear.

That is, until the walls of the glass box shattered into fragments, the world became a comforting void, and Ales was free. His body felt like himself again, whole and full of depth, and he sobbed in relief. A large presence next to him made it clear his prison didn’t break on its own.

“Thank you, oh god-“ Ales whimpered as his gaze looked for his savior, only for his smile to drop. A deep blue, torn cloak surrounded the hero, engulfing him in darkness. Only yellow eyes shone through.

The buzzing came back.

“Do you feel safe?” The cloaked figure asked, voice deeper than the trenches of the Lum sea.

Ales blinked. The question seemed preposterous at that moment. “Well, I-I do now, with you here,” he tried to laugh. The figure only glared.

“Let me elaborate,” he said, more coldly. “Do you feel safe, knowing your fate is not even in the hands of your God? You could change for the worse, become a shadow of your past self, and there is nothing Polokus could do to change you back.”

The Magician’s muzzle snapped closed. His relief disappeared, but he couldn’t feel anything replacing it. There was nothing in his heart, only a howling void. Was this dread? It would imply the figure’s words were prophetic, in some way.

It didn’t wait for an answer. A clawed, gangly hand emerged from the depths of the cloak, landing on Ales’ head for a facsimile of a comforting pat. Its words never attempted to match the gesture’s warmth.

 “You have every right to allow fear into your heart.” 

~0~

Ales woke up in a jolt, almost toppling to the ground as his hammock swung wildly. His breathing labored, and his fur covered in cold sweat, the Teensy almost dropped dead when a new hand, smaller and daintier, held onto his shoulder. 

Betilla’s eyes were wide with concern. “Ales, take a deep breath,” she rubbed his back as she helped him breathe. “It was just a nightmare, you're safe now.”

Ales’ knuckles were white from gripping at the edges of the hammock. He tried to find a rhythm to his breathing. His lungs stopped burning, and finally, so did the shaking all over his body.

“When did I get here?” He asked first. He never joined Betilla, he remembers that distinctly.

“You stayed up late, and then fell asleep on your armchair,” the nymph explained with a chide. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hardly rested, you looked constricted in that blanket! Not to mention your night terror…”

Betilla trailed off, hand on Ales moving to cover her mouth, pointer tapping her nose. Her eyes flicked between her partner and the tome on top of the desk behind her.

“Ales,” she started over, her frown hidden behind her hand. “What was your nightmare about? Do you feel, ah, overwhelmed?”

The Magician’s breathing was relaxed, but his heart was still beating against his ribs like a hungry inmate. His dream hadn’t faded away, as dreams should, and he could still remember the sharp forest, his geometric form, and the cold glass far too close to his nose. He could still hear the buzz.

“It wasn’t about the book’s content, if that’s what you’re implying,” he responded with a smirk, his hand joining Betilla’s against her cheek. “I told you I was going to be responsible with the Lum’s knowledge, didn’t I? Though, I admit, you’re on the money about the rest; I didn't sleep that much, wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what triggered the bad dream.”

Betilla clicked her tongue, she could tell something was wrong. However, Ales wouldn’t tell her more, she knew that much, so she simply nodded in agreement.

“Try not to stay up late, then,” she gently urged her lover, the frown never leaving her mouth.

~0~

Ales continued his reading throughout the days, a bit more feverishly than what he should've, but he always excused it as giving Betilla space to knit. As far as he told himself, she didn't really mind, only nodding in agreement and focusing back on the colorful yarn surrounding her like a nest. It gave him enough time to think.

“What's a non playable character?” The Magician would ask quietly, so as to not alert the working fairy.

“Characters not written by the players,” The Book Of Knowledge would answer. He had tried to ask who these players were, specifically, but the book never gave him a clear answer. It always came back to what it initially told him:

Something higher than Polokus.

That's not helpful, goddammit.

“What's the point of us, then?” Ales asked again, with a bit more bite. “Just to exist, yeah?”

“Oh, it’s not that simple,” the Book answered again, unshaken by his bark. “I already told you, you all have a role to do. You must aid the player around this land of dreams, be it through guides, or directions, or gifts. You lead the hero's way.”

The hero. The Teensy already knew who this accursed hero would be, and Betilla was just across the room, so close to figuring out her accursed technique. Ales slammed the book shut, breathing through his nose.

“Oh!” The nymph hummed, alerted by the racket of her partner getting up from his desk. Her smile widened as she tried to get his attention. “Done with your reading already? If that's so, would you like to see my work in progress? It's not the prettiest, but–”

“If you don't mind, babe,” The Magician interrupted as he made a beeline for the door leading to the stairs. “I'm getting some air. I'll look at it when I come back, ok? Enjoy the peace and quiet while I'm gone.”

The nymphs' smile fell, and the energy in her voice dulled to a monotone. “Alright,” she muttered, unable to contain her disappointment. She felt like a broken record, repeating the same patient lines of encouragement, in hopes that Ales would be listening this time: “Take your time, then.”

His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t hear any warmth in her agreement. But it was alright, she said it was alright, no? Don't linger on it too much . He nodded vaguely towards her, and made his way down to the base of the tower for an oh so relaxing walk.

His walk was anything but relaxing. He stalked the halls of the academy, fidgeting with his staff as Teensies tried to avoid his route to nowhere. They've been like this ever since the ceremony, no longer side eyeing him with some sort of derision or mockery, but instead treating him with respectful apathy. Ales should feel some sort of relief over this, shouldn’t he? Instead, their dismissal felt even more embittering.

His mind wandered back to the concept of roles. What roles would Teensies have in this game? He tried to think about how games worked. They usually had instructions, goals, maybe even some sort of obstacle. If he were this game’s writer, Teensies would definitely be a sort of obstacle, pests disguised as aid. Their roads would lead to nowhere, their advice would be useless, and their challenges would be near impossible, trials you’d need to perfect before you’re allowed a modicum of respect. They’d be insufferable and far from dependable.

Ales’ eye caught some of the more youthful beasts playing with magic, blue ribbons swirling around their arms as they sent their own lunch airborne for amusement. He gripped his staff tighter. He'd be a fool to think they'd only slow the hero down. Teensies were masters at opening the right doors and finding the right paths, their guidance of the hero would be impeccable.

Ales found his way to the library again, paging a history book while glossing over the words. Teensies were sociable, friendly, and helpful. Their magic was common, and their portals varied. They'd be great allies. What does that say about him? What does it say when he's untalented at spellcasting, and utterly antisocial at his best? Was he meant to be isolated from his peers, from his own siblings, because the waking world wrote his fate as so?

No, no. He has to remember. There is no such thing as fate, but there is something like it. The Magician slipped deeper into his nook, trying to decipher what the hell that sentence meant. If fate isn’t real, then why is his life so lonely?

~0~

When Ales returned, his hours had all been spent on doing nothing but staring at lines of text like they were nonsense babble. Betilla had taken a break of her knitting; Her stare was hard, carefully reading through the floating pages of her thesis, recounting and reminiscing each piece of data fluttering around her. Her face was flat, and the Teensy could feel that uncomfortable tug again.

“Ales,” she called, quick to notice his presence. “You took a long walk.”

“Needed a long walk,” he responded with a shrug, stumbling his way to the hammock. The Magician didn’t even bother undressing as he climbed inside.

“Going to bed already?” Betilla asked with furrowed brows.

“It’s night time, isn’t it? Good time for bed.”

“Didn’t you say—“

“I’ll look at it in the morning, Bets,” Ales turned away from her, covering himself up with his blanket.

Betilla had to try again, her worry reaching a boiling point, painting her cheeks red in frustration. “Darling, something is bothering you, I know it.“

“It’s alright—“

“Do not, ” Betilla snapped back with a demanding tone, “treat me like an idiot, Magician. You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? Something is making it difficult for you to talk to me, I can tell.”

“Oh please,” Ales tried a more chipper tone, even when the accusations cut so deep he was sure they’d snap his vocal chords. “Don’t be so paranoid, doll, I’m just letting you relax. You need your concentration and practice so the hero comes out right, yeah? I’m doing you a favor here.”

Betilla never thought she’d feel hatred in her heart, and yet it burned in her chest until it hurt. No hatred for her lover himself, but for his utterly phony act. She genuinely disliked how insincere he could be, how he couldn't open up to her. They were lovers, for goodness sake, partners! It broke her heart. 

“I don’t believe you,” she told him, bluntly. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don't feel like you can, but if you do. Please tell me the truth. You’ve been nothing but supportive during my own emotional lows, dependable to a fault when I crumbled in front of you, and I wish to do the same for you.”

The nymph didn’t dare lay where he laid, so instead she landed on the floor next to the hanging bed, sitting criss-cross. She pressed her forehead against the lump that was Ales. “We support each other, right? At least, we’re supposed to.”

Ale’s heart beat against his chest like a drum. He didn’t want to picture Betilla like a doll, so he didn’t dare turn around. He screwed his eyes shut, covering his head to block her sweet, darling, sad green eyes from ever reaching him. 

With a sigh, the fairy spoke one last time, “I’ll let you rest.” Standing up, her hand landed on the Teensy one last time, trying to feel his warmth through the thick blanket. “I’ll be back by late morning, alright? I do hope you get better.”

When her touch left his back, and the flurry of wings died down, and the floating pages scattered across his floor, Ales let himself release his breath. It edged too close to a sob.

~0~

Ales stared at the Book of Knowledge’s blank pages with a blank expression. Expectant. 

“There you are,” wrote the book, with a pompous air Ales didn’t quite like. “You’ve come back with more questions about your world? You’re quite curious. I like that about you, Magician.”

Green eyes pierced across his mind like arrows. Their gaze could see every single miserable, maddening doomsday thought running through his brain. It weaved through the cynicism, constricting it with tender words repeating in his mind over and over again.

We support each other, right? At least, we’re supposed to.

A paranoid part of his brain fretted incessantly, imagining all sorts of ways Betilla would abandon him if he told her the truth. How it would kill him with heartbreak. But The Magician shook his head, shushing his pointless blabbering with words of comfort, what he’d imagine her words would be.

If our lives are commanded by something akin to fate, then I’m glad it brought us together.

He didn’t want to do this.

“No. How do you make waffle batter?”

~0~

When Betilla returned, the tower smelled of singed vanilla.

“Ales?”

The Teensy turned, holding a plate of scorched waffles. He extended one to Betilla, the least burnt pastry he had.

“Can I see your progress?” He asked with an unfamiliar insecurity.

Betilla took the treat, silently. 

“Of course you can.” She asked herself if she wanted to pry again. However, she already knew the answer: Ales is not someone you can pry open. “You won’t tell me what’s wrong, will you?”

“No, I can’t,” he shook his head. “Not now. I’m sorry if it’s not enough.”

Betilla sighed through her nose. Before The Magician could consider it was out of disappointment, she pulled her lover into a side hug, gently kissing his forehead. 

“You’re always enough, Ales. Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Admittedly, Ales never truly returned to normal. He was trying to, Betilla could recognize his efforts! He kept his attitude chipper and light hearted, he engaged with her whenever he could, and most importantly, he didn’t toy with that damn book anymore, being mindful in his reading. He was trying to act like he did before he was given the Book Of Knowledge, and yet it all still felt… not real. Pure acting on his part. He had built more walls around himself. He had grown distant.

Betilla wished she knew what it was about the grimoire that had scared him so badly, what he had read to have him crawl back to solitude. She could feel her curiosity claw at her stomach, salivating to read what he had read. It must’ve been horrifying, eye opening, life changing!

But she shouldn’t meddle so. The nymph saw her own desires buried under her concern, and wanted them squashed immediately. Her own hunger for knowledge shouldn’t have been an excuse to snoop about, not when she knew patience was key. 

Even as their bond slowly improved, her anxieties continued to swim around her head. However, the domesticity of their days helped soothe her worries away for a while, and she genuinely believed it soothed her love’s nerves as well. His smile seemed genuine when they shared a meal together, or when she’d show him the progress on her knitting, or when he’d read her something small from the book, a silly little fun fact he thought she’d like.

“Did you know? The most common type of dream involves falling of some kind. Maybe that’s why you were given wings.”

This normalcy was what she truly looked forward to in her waking hours.

 So when the day came, her scarf was so long it could possibly wrap around the tower itself, she almost thought it was too soon! It felt like just yesterday, Betilla couldn’t keep the yarn on her needles. Now the needles had become an extension of herself, and weaving the threads of wool together became second nature. If she had continued further, the scarf might’ve become long enough to scale the walls of the academy. It was such a short time, or at least it should have been, but peeking outside, the nymph could feel warmth blanketing the woods of light surrounding them, and juicy plums hung from every branch of every tree. The second summer’s solstice was almost upon them.

Betilla peeked at Ales from the armchair, watching him intently as he tinkered with a small, wind up toy. The intensity of his focus made the fairy smile in bliss. His sincerity was sweet when it sprouted from the cracks of his icy exterior.

Trying not to make a sound, she dropped to the floor, hands holding her scarf as she crawled closer and closer to the Teensy. Once she was at arm’s length, the fairy carefully swung the fabric over his head, wrapping his torso with soft fabric. She pulled Ales back into a gentle embrace.

“I think I went a little overboard with my knitting,” Betilla mumbled with a giggle, nuzzling the side of her partner’s head. “But do you like my most recent work?”

“I already know I do,” Ales responded, smiling softly, “but I’ll look at it anyway.” He unfurled the scarf from around him, slowly stretching the garment along his hands for a better look.

The improvement was palpable, textile against his fingers. He could feel the evenness of each loop, their solid form and consistent length; the work of a professional. The Magician even dared to find the other tail end to compare. The scarf was a timeline of progress and dedication, one that filled him with melancholy.

“Oh, Betilla,” he cooed affectionately. “Look at this, you’ve turned into a pro in no time! Not even a machine could be this even. How long did this take? A year and a half?”

“Such a short time!?”

“You’re a fast learner, love, don’t be so surprised.” His smile was so wide, yet so sad, unable to show proud teeth.

“Thank you, my dear,” Betilla said quietly. She wanted to revel in his praise, lay on it like it was his chest, but his sorrowful mood was hard to miss. “But why are you so glum?”

Ales leaned his head back and chuckled, mirthless. “I think you’re stalling a bit, aren’t you?”

“Stalling?” The nymph’s brows pressed together in confusion. “Why would I stall? I’m just trying to perfect my technique.”

“Please,” the Teensy rolled his eyes. That teasing bite in his voice came back, but it was so gentle it was like his heart wasn’t in it. “Look at your own work, Bets. It has been perfect for at least a few months. I don’t think you can go any further than this, or we’ll both drown in multicolor wool, hah.”

Betilla couldn’t help her own breathy laugh. It brought a bit more teeth into Ales’ grin.

“You have been ready,” he continued, straightening out to instead look at the fairy more directly. “Don’t you believe that?”

“No, no. I can see my own progress–“

“Then why are you stalling?”

Betilla stopped in her tracks, pressing her lips together. She didn’ want to bring it up again, doubting Ales had become a recurring nightmare of hers she knew she had to leave behind. However, her concerns had kept her planted in his tower for a bit too long, they couldn’t be avoided much longer.

“I’m sorry,” she began, looking away. Avoiding eye contact should have been easy, Ales rarely kept his hair out of his face, yet his stare could be felt past his silver locs. “But if this is it, I’ll leave for the Bizarechipelago, and leave you here while you finish your studies. I think you don’t truly… I feel like I can’t leave without at least fixing this first.”

“Fix?” The Magician’s voice became terse. “There is nothing to fix here, Betilla.”

The fairy grimaced, and his heart skipped a beat. He hated his own attitude sometimes.

“Let me rephrase that,” he continued as he landed a paw on the fairy’s shoulder. “There’s nothing here for you to fix. What I’m going through is for me to resolve, alright? None of it is your fault.”

“You’ve closed yourself off,” Betilla tried to cut in, trying to justify her concern once again. “I’m worried for you.”

“I know,” Ales nodded, hands moving to her cheeks to hold them, so the fairy could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I know, and I shouldn’t take it for granted, you’re too kind to me. However, and I can’t speak too much about this, but there’s, ah, baggage I carry around, issues that go beyond the book. That's for me to fix, ok? Not for you. Your love is enough motivation, but please don’t lose sight of your passions worrying over stuff that isn’t for you.”

He planted the scarf on Betilla’s hands with one of his own. The other hand, still on Betilla’s face, gently rubbed her smile line with his thumb. It had become deeper ever since she first arrived in his room, and thinking that it could’ve been because of him made his cheeks warm with affection.

“Finish what you’ve started, ok?” Ales’ grin, still heavy with melancholy, finally bared its teeth. “I promise, I’ll get better at this stupid spellcasting business, and I’ll follow you directly to your cabin, so I can loiter around and listen to you talk about magic and stars all day.”

The fairy could only nod, slowly. THis sorrow was contagious, her own smile tight with sadness. She wanted to know more, she desperately wished he’d just pour everything out for her to at least listen. And yet, with what little he had admitted, it brought her some peace. She believed in this man, more than she possibly should, but wanted to see him truly happy again. Betilla embraced Ales tightly, already looking forward to their future reunion.

~0~

Perched at the top of the tower, Betilla dipped her hand in water. With a press of her fist, the liquid drenched in her skin became soapy, creating a thin membrane when she stretched her fingers into a ring. She blew into the membrane, her breath calling for her sisters. Six large bubbles expanded from her palms, and one by one, they each revealed the visage of a nymph inside. Even Fée had answered, which brought the green fairy much needed relief.

“Betilla?”

“Betty!!”

“Hey, Bets! It’s been a bit!”

The nymph was surprised by the excitement in their greetings. “Oh! It almost sounds like you were expecting me?” She tried, with a bit of humor in her tone.

“No, that’s the thing!” Holly shook her head as she leaned closer. “We weren’t expecting your call. Which is why we’re so excited!”

Betilla blinked. “Really?”

“Of course, silly!” Helena tittered from her own bubble. “We missed you, we’re so happy to hear from you!”

“To be honest, we thought you were still mad at us,” Edith blurted out. The other sisters were quick to shush the red fairy with glares, getting her to quite literally shrink a bit.

The green fairy sighed. She didn’t really want to return to this discussion either. However, she had to press on: “yes, I was upset. You didn’t trust the work I had put into my research.”

“Betilla,” Anita tried, leaning close to press her palm on the surface of the bubble, hoping its touch would reach her sister. “I’m sorry for our words, but I said those things because I want you to thrive, as our eldest.” She attempted to sell her apology with a smile. “you know that, right?”

She truly didn’t want to do this. The green fairy shook her head. “Of course I do. It still hurt me, Annie.”

The aqua fae’s smile dropped, something Betilla didn’t want to see as her eldest.

“However,” she continued. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re all my family, and I couldn’t imagine the conception of our hero without you next to me.”

 “The hero?” Anita’s eyes widened. “You’re ready!?”

The bubbles rippled with excitement as the sisters yelled over each other with their congratulations and celebration. The tension lifted into the sky, and Betilla felt as airy as the globes of soap around her.

“I’m guessing the lil magic man’s newest form had something to do with this breakthrough?” Fée de la Mort snarked with a smirk. She chuckled, leaning back as her shoulders relaxed, “experimenting on your boyfriend, that’s pretty rad.”

“No experiments were involved!” Betilla pushed back with a laugh. “I would never!”

Fée’s own chortles became brighter at her sister’s reaction. With a more tender voice, she asked, “are you sure you’re ready, Bets? Or, well, comfortable with this?”

The green fairy hesitated a moment, pulling on her fingers. “I think I’ve been ready for quite a while now. I’ll have to be comfortable with my decision now, for the sake of Lord Polokus and the Glade of Dreams. This is what I’ve dedicated myself to for years, now I must be courageous to see its conclusion.”

The youngest nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit. Knock it outta the park, then. We'll be right there with’cha.”

~0~

Planning for the nymph’s departure was hectic. After explaining the details of her plans to her sisters, Betilla had been advised to take advantage of the second summer solstice’s sunshine, reflected through the silver moon. To give her enough power and a little more, as they advised. The solstice was a week and a half away, so she had to be at the Bizarechipelago in record time if she didn’t want to miss it.

Much running around was done, as Betilla wanted to say her goodbyes to every scholar in the Teensy Academy, ancient and recent. Some shook her hand, some cried a little, and many of them gave her small gifts as souvenirs, books and pretty trinkets for her new home, so she wouldn’t forget her time here. As if that would be possible.

“Wouldn’t you like a farewell celebration?” Asked the elder Teensy in the headmaster’s chair, retired from his kingly duties. He had a lot more time to think about leisure and fun. “Leave with a bang, you know.”

As much as the idea meant to Betilla, she decided it would be for the best if her new location wasn’t broadcasted to half the Glade, for the sake of simplicity. Even so, the former Grand Minimus thanked her for her stay, as well as her contribution to magical research.

A thoughtful goodbye, topped with a chaste kiss to her hand. The fairy bowed in turn.

She strolled the halls of the Teensy Academy one last time, patting its walls to make sure even the stones knew they’d be missed. From the arches, she could see Ales’ tower, tall and isolating. Without her there, Betilla could see just how lonely it was, only connected to the rest of the castle by one hallway. It never felt this way before, it was a warm home to her for who knows how many decades. Even with their distance, the fairy could see The Magician lean out of the tower’s window, letting his hair hang outside like vines. Has he ever peeked outside his window like this before?

Betilla didn’t want to disturb his moment of peace, so she took the long way through the stairs. Ales’s introspection wasn’t shaken when the door swung open, still taking in the cool summer breeze from outside. The bright blue sky reflecting over the lake underneath was gorgeous.

“Surprised they didn’t hoard you for the entire day,” he mumbled in jest. “For a second I thought I wouldn’t have any time left with you.”

“Nonsense,” Betilla quipped back, laying her little gifts across the desk. “I made sure of it, my last hours in this academy will be with you. However, I might need an extra suitcase, if I want to take all of this with me.”

TheTeensy peeled away from his spot to look through the gifts with the fairy, little glass balls and candles and other kitschy knick knacks. “At least you won’t have an empty cabin,” he said while inspecting a ceramic clown. “This is all company, 24/7”

“Do you have your own trinket to add to the pile of company?” she asked, not truly expecting any serious answer.

“Do I count as a trinket?”

Betilla laughed and stroked Ales’ snout, beaming with mirth. She would miss all of this oh so dearly.

“Come on now, aren’t you excited to have your room to yourself again?” she asked in between giggles and snorts. His smile dimmed.

Once you reunite, she’ll have the hero by her side, and the games will begin. Your life will not be one of leisure.

Did he dare open his chest a bit? He attempted to: “If I’m being dreadfully honest, getting used to a quiet tower is going to be, ah… tough. I’m sure I’ll get there, obviously! But, you know. It’ll be a while.”

Betilla wanted to believe in his sincerity, but his lack of confidence trembled against her hands. She bit her cheek, knowing what she wanted to say, but unsure if it was right. It felt more like an indulgence.

“Well, why don't you come along, then?” the nymph suggested, tentatively. 

“What?” Ales couldn't believe his ears, staring at his partner to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he wanted to hear. “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Betilla didn't stop to think twice over her short notice invitation, she didn't want to consider any consequences. “I'm not as well versed as solitude as you are, and a cabin in the mountains just sounds oh so lonely! My sisters will be there, of course, but only for the creation itself, and they have much to do afterwards! And don't get me started on the trip, oh my, I'm afraid I'll get seasick–”

“You want me to chaperone you there?”

The nymph giggled, bashful. “Only if you'd want to.”

“Kinda last minute,” Ales mumbled, gently pulling on a loc. “I won't have time to give notice to the Headmaster.”

“Oh please, you're now worrying about your brother's permission?” Betilla surprised herself with her own snark, she swore it was getting worse every day. How charming. “Very unlike you. A weekend getaway sounds like something you'd adore, normally.”

The Teensy held back a smile, turning away. “Well… you got me there. If you want me to come so badly, I'll come.”

“Marvelous!”

~0~

It was time to go. The lovers packed light, and travelled for hours to the coast of the Glade, all to reach a ship destined to the port of the Bizarechipelago’s Dream Valley. Sure, the Teensy Highway could have been faster, but Betilla wished to take her time with her arrival, for the sake of giving her nerves time to calm down. By the time their boat docked, it was late into the night, and her nerves were even more high strung. She squeezed Ales’ hand to death as they reached a small, wooden building by the end of the dock, a makeshift office.

No one was inside, taking into account that it was past midnight, and the lights above them buzzed and flickered pathetically. Dinging a bell, the couple got the attention of the office’s tender, a stout man with an oversized monocle and curly moustache. Betilla could sense the odd cloud of danger around this man, a sure sign of a nightmare. She remained wary of him. 

“Welcome, welcome!” The hunter greeted with a thick, old accent, shaking the duo’s hands avidly. “A cabin for two, I assume? Perhaps somewhere near the waves?” He leaned close to Ales, lowering his voice, “I’ve heard the smell of the sea could drive even the most demure lady mad.”

“No need, thank you,” the Teensy backed away, hand between the two men as a fence. “This is a business trip, not a honeymoon.”

“In fact,” Betilla added, “I believe my sisters may have been here first? I had asked them to reserve me a home in the woods.”

“Of course!” The stout man nodded with a laugh, reaching into a cabinet to pull out a paper map. “Five lovely dames. They’ve blessed our little community with their presence, hail Lord Polokus. Here, I’ll mark your new residence!” 

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he retrieved a red marker, and circled a spot deep inside the primordial forest. “Just make sure you remain on the paved routes. As for you, my dear sir,” he pointed at The Magician with his marker, and crossed out a few other spots around the woods. “Here's some vacant cabins for you to choose from. Don’t want to intrude on the women, now do you?”

“Right,” Ales said dismissively as Betilla took the map. He rummaged inside his cape. “How much would it be?”

“Free of charge!” The Hunter waved his hand dismissively. “We don’t charge for lodging here! We’re just happy to have new neighbours. Just don’t wander about too much.” His low chuckle sent dread down the lovers’ spine.

With a final thank you and some goodbyes, Betilla and Ales left in a hurry, hiding under the darkness of night. The fairy was glad her cabin was far, far away from this little building.

The glow of her wings gave them enough light to safely travel the roads of the coastal town, as even the candlelit lamp posts had been snuffed out for the peaceful rest of its residents. They travelled deeper, deeper, and deeper into the woods, until the cobblestone under them became gravel. Soon, Betilla’s green light was united with the multicolored shine of her sisters, who quietly greeted her and welcomed Ales in surprise.

“Have you gotten taller?” asked Helena, circling The Magician. 

He chuckled. “Oh, no, I haven’t changed an inch.”

The cabin was arched and conical, with its interior furnished with star-stamped tiles and deep blue wallpaper. An incredibly cozy space for the dream fairy.

“Mind if I take a nap on the couch?” Ales asked as he hung his hat and cape on a darkwood coat hanger. “I’d go and find my own place, but first impressions with the locals made me reconsider leaving the house at night.”

“Feel free, magic man.” Fée slapped the corduroy couch cushions to fluff them, presenting them to the Teensy. “Crash out for a bit, we’ll shake ya awake once the deed is done.”

“Thanks. Shake me hard when you do.”

While he got comfortable on his makeshift bed, the purple fairy turned her attention to her sister. “What about you, Bets?” she asked the dreary eldest. “Wanna rest your eyes for a second? The trip was long as hell, afterall.”

“Well, as much as I’d like that,” Betilla shrugged. “I’ve given myself enough time to overthink about this. I want it over with, then I can rest.”

“You’re the boss! Lead the way.”

~0~

With both the map and Betilla’s recollection of Ales’ transformation, the nymph sisters found the stony platform of the Primordial Forest. Barely touched, it still wore the moonlight spotlight like a veil, surrounded by stones arranged like seats.

The five youngest got to work, each choosing a rock to carve into with magic. Short and simple runes, each a gift for Betilla’s hero.

“Swift like the currents.”

“A bountiful self!”

“With the flight of our wings.”

Betilla crouched next to Fée, head tilting at her own runes. “What’s your gift?”

“Mercy from the reaper,” the youngest quipped. “I got a feeling they’ll need it.”

“What about you, Betty?” Helena asked from her own stone, marking runes for a steady grip. “Join in on the fun!”

“Oh! I’m not entirely sure, if I’m being honest,” Betilla admitted, rubbing the back of her head. “Any idea for a gift hasn’t really crossed my mind.”

“Well, no shame in waiting,” added Edith, as she rose from her spot. “You’re making the guy anyways, I think that's gifty enough.”

Their stage was ready, and the youngest five stepped away to give their eldest space. “She’ll want all the concentration she can get,” Anita told the others. The green fairy appreciated their kindness. Out of sight, she finally felt comfortable getting to work.

The Nymph of Dreams took to the air, crossing her legs as she sat above the platform, moonbeams of the second summer solstice brushing against her skin. Her right hand spun in a swirl, until mana of the land beamed from her fingertips. Her left hand reached towards the moonbeams, her digits plunging past the reality purple Lums had stitched together; pinching, she was able to pull silk away from the silvery wisps attracted to the lunar light. Grasping the threads of magic, and with her fingers as her needles, Betilla began to weave.

In and out and around, fae and earthly magic looped around each other, finally reuniting in a duet of spellcasting. She could feel the strings slip, once in a while, in between her nervous fidgeting. Regardless, she marched on. She visualized the type of hero they needed: dependable, kind, and responsible, but with a playful soul and a warm smile. Someone who’s heart is full of love for their home, and their friends. Someone as bright as a sunny day.

Someone Lune could be proud of.

Betilla’s spell sparked across the blue and silver, green pulling and pushing colors around until the ribbons of light took on a plum purple hue. Loops became knots, and knots became heavy beads that floated above the nymph like stars. With one final pull, she released the magic from her grasp, letting it grow and form with a light show comparable to nothing in this land. It pulled the carved runes into itself, casting them in a ring, circling the beads of mana like a halo. She could do nothing but beam, watch in awe as her theory, her nearly century-old research, all came to life in front of her eyes, working oh so beautifully. The spell finally sunk back to the stony platform, sparking with a flash.

The fairy shielded her eyes for just a moment, but as soon as her vision was clear, her face fell in confusion. There was no one else in sight, only herself and silver Lums breezing by. As she landed, she wondered if the spell had been a bust after all. That is, until her foot bumped into something.

Betilla squeaked as she jumped back, looking down and finally finding the end results of her spell. It was a diminutive little thing, struggling to get up, due to its ball-like torso constantly rolling about. When it finally pulled itself onto a sitting position, the critter’s blonde tufts of hair bounced into view. It groaned as floating hands rubbed its round muzzle soothingly.

Her brows shot to the top of her forehead, taking in her newest creation. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and wanted to give herself the benefit of the doubt. However, when the Lums landed and crawled around the small beast, and they laughed a bright, high, childlike laugh, the nymph’s fears were quickly validated.

The Hero of The Glade was no older than a pup.

Betilla was mortified.

She plucked the small one from the platform, holding them up to eye level to scan their full form, round and airy like a bundle of balloons. The fairy was breaking into a sweat.

“This has to be a dream,” she mumbled anxiously.

“Amamay!” The little beast exclaimed, pressing their palms against the nymph’s cheeks. Their touch felt as real as her sinking heart. It was no dream.

She had fumbled her spell.

“What am I going to do?!” Betilla hissed at the creature, though the question was aimed at herself instead. Either way, the little one didn’t know how to respond, and they tilted their head quizzically.

Before she could think of a solution, she heard her sisters coming back, questioning if everything was alright. Panic grabbed a hold of her senses, and instead the nymph fled the scene, clutching the child close in a vain attempt to hide them.

~0~

Ales was violently pulled out of his rest by thunderclap, alongside thick smog filling his lungs until breathing had become a chore.

“Fools! Those miserable fools!”

 It was dark, far too dark, but he soon realized it was because the darkness itself was wrapping around his form, trying to constrict him. It kept growing and growing, until it had become a murky and violent sea. It pulled him deeper into itself.

“They’ve tried replacing me, they think what I’ve done for this land is some kind of game!”

Anytime he tried to rise for air, he could only get a gulp in before a wave of smoke dragged him back down. The Magician’s head spun violently from the thrashing.

“Now look at the mess they’re in! Their hero is a joke! Their head nymph failed them!”

A joke!? What happened to Betilla’s spell? To all of her work? Something bad must’ve happened, for such an immediate and violent reaction from…

“If I don’t fix this, The Glade of Dreams will be doomed!”

No, if the hero pales in comparison to its predecessor, what does that mean for the game? What does that mean for their entire existence? This is worse than a doomed Glade, this could mean a glaring flaw in reality itself. If the hero can’t function, none of them can. They’d be heading towards constant chaos at best, and there would be nothing anyone could do. Not his idiotic, pompous siblings, and not his lazy, reckless father who populates their home with his own hang ups. They’ve been doomed from the start. The tightness in Ales’ chest made it difficult to breathe.

“If I could just hold this dream in the palm of my hand, none of this would be necessary.”

Unless…

The Teensy needed to speak, needed to force his tongue to move, even when his instincts begged him to hold onto as much oxygen as possible. But he needed to be heard.

“Then let me help!” He gasped. His words bubbled up to an unseen surface, and he realized just how deep he had been dragged.

The pushing and pulling had stopped, the smog had thinned, and Ales could finally breathe. The grip the shadows had on him almost felt soothing.

“What did you say?” The voice came back, no longer the roar of inky-black waves.

“Let me help,” The Magician repeated. “I also think these guys are buncha idiots, and I’m not losing my home because they don’t know what they’re doing. So why not get you that position you want?”

The void scoffed.

“Alright then, Mr. Dark, ” he continued, sarcastic, “don’t listen to the guy with connections. Not like I have The Book of Knowledge and a close bond with the Nymph of Dreams. If you wanna get buried by Betilla, be my guest.”

The smoky darkness took form again, more structured and humanoid, but still towering over The Magician as he kept his grip tight. “Is this the road you truly want to take, Ales Mansay? You want to help an old fool do right by this world, in exchange for your current life?”

Ales considered his current life, full of invisible rules and duties he was never suited for, never destined to fit in. He nodded. “Gotta try new things once in a while.”

Mr Dark hummed so quietly it mixed with the buzzing emanating from his cloak. “We have a deal, then.”

~0~

The Teensy’s eyes shot awake as the front door slammed with a bang. Sitting up, Ales made eye contact with a feverish looking Betilla; she was sweaty and fidgety, gripping a collection of somethings in her hands.

“Bets?” he dared to ask. “You’re pale as a ghost, what’s wrong? And where are your–“

“I failed,” she blurted out, unwilling to raise her voice above a whisper. “Ales, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t ready. They’re not– I didn’t– I don’t know what went wrong.”

The Magician was stunned into silence. Once he spoke, it felt forced in his nonexistent throat: “Can I see?”

Betilla hesitated, squeezing her bundle closer to her chest. She chastised herself over letting her doubts bubble up again, but her fear felt palpable against her mouth. Unable to look at her lover, she turned the other cheek as she revealed the little creature to him.

Despite their carrier’s panic, the blond pup had dozed off to dreamland, snoring away in her hands. Ales tentatively took the beast, cradling them as gingerly as possible. He could feel their core body buzz in his grasp, a hum far too similar to the ones haunting his nightmares. He combed his fingers through their hair to get a better look at the Hero Of The Glade.

“I don’t know what to do, Ales.” The nymph sniffled, rubbing her eyes to push back her need to cry. “This is just a child! I can’t show Lord Polokus a child, he’ll think I’m mad! I–I expected someone ready for the world, not– ah– not this!”

The Magician was as horrified as his partner. Mr Dark was right, in the worst possible way. Not only could this little one not handle the responsibilities ahead of them, they shouldn’t have in the first place. Why would their world subject this sort of destiny on a pup?! What purpose would it need for them to be so small and vulnerable? He held the child closer to himself, not wanting the Glade of Dreams to have access to them.

Betilla continued rambling, her stutter worsening by the second, “Who do I go to? Do you– will the Grand Minimus help? If– if we return to the academy, we could– ah, we could speak to your brother, o–o–or one of your other siblings. Maybe they could help?”

“No!”

They both jumped, Ales covering his mouth. Even he was surprised by his outburst. He continued, lowering his voice to a murmur: “Betilla, this isn’t a failure. You just undercooked the little guy, it’s ok. They’ll grow up eventually.”

“But Ales-“

“Listen to me,” his voice tightened. “Forget about everyone else for a second, please. You want this kid to be a good guy? You want them to grow up with no nasty patches of resentment growing around their heart? Then whatever you do, don’t let Teensies hear about this. I swear on my own life, The Bubble Dreamer can strike me now if I lie, they’ll eat your hero alive. They’ll load the kid with high expectations, overwork them to exhaustion, and make any interaction with other people as grueling as possible. They will not wait for this pup to age before expecting the world from them. Please, please , if you value your hero’s happiness, you’ll keep them far away from that fucking academy!”

Betilla’s own shaking was mild compared to Ales’ quaking. She took in his words, far more sincere than what his previous, cool demeanor allowed, and for once she could see true vulnerability in between the cracking ice. She wished she could see this in any other scenario. If he was so fearful of his own kinfolk, the fairy didn’t want to see the toll of their treatment on a young outsider. She trusted Teensies, sure, but perhaps they weren’t the best equipped for children. Unfortunately, neither was she.

“I won’t take them back, I promise,” the nymph agreed to her lover’s terms, and he sighed in relief. “I’ll be outside for a moment, I need some air.”

~0~

“You what? ”

Standing on the roof of her cabin was bound to attract the attention of her sisters, who had been looking feverishly for Betilla after her hasty escape.

“I have made a mistake in my spellcasting,” Betilla said with conviction, looking towards the horizon instead of her fellow nymphs. “The Lum King is far too young, and I will not put that sort of responsibility on a pup. The Glade of Dreams will have to wait until they are of age. I hope you and Lord Polokus can understand the circumstances.”

The sisters looked at each other, concerned by their eldest’s stony demeanor. 

“Of course we understand,” Holly spoke for the group, floating closer to try and find Betilla’s usual warmth. “But we don’t understand why you’d want to stay here. Wouldn’t you prefer to be closer to help in the mainland?”

“Respectfully,” the head nymph hurriedly responded, “I would rather this is kept a secret. I don’t want any trouble finding the hero prematurely.”

Holly nodded, understanding. Nothing more coming from their sister, the fairies began to head home. That is, until words stumbled out of her mouth once again, a lot more timid:

“I apologize for my shortcomings. I should have prepared more.”

With a deep frown, Anita was the first to rush back to Betilla, holding her in a tight embrace. 

“You did more than enough, Betty,” she whispered.

The others quickly joined in, surrounding the green fairy in affection that had finally squeezed some tears out of her. She wished she could have held onto the mask for a little longer. 

As her sisters flew away, they called out to her, promising to come if she ever needed help, all she needed to do was call. Betilla waved them goodbye, taking in the moonlight of the summer solstice as she finally slackened, numb and tired. She found herself waving at the silver moon as well, hoping it might want to show her similar kindness one day.

~0~

The creature laid on Betilla’s bed, and Ales’ head laid next to them as he sat on the wooden floor. They rested so peacefully, up on cloud nine catching the sweetest of dreams. The Teensy couldn’t imagine the child living in any sort of misery, or it would break his heart. Even the thought of the little beast in front of him feeling an ounce of isolation felt daunting on his chest, so he looked to remedy that.

Standing over the pup, he raised his hand. His staff was somewhere in the living room, but he didn’t bother fetching it. No, he’d rather try doing this, for the kid, with his own bare paws. Sparks flew from his nails, and his spiral wobbled as it was summoned, but Ales marched on, determined. Come on, you’re not that much different. Just focus on scaling up.

When Betilla found them both, the spell, for once in his life, had worked. She met with blond locs instead of silver, and the blue flocking covering his body was replaced with brown skin. A surprisingly well crafted glamour, held together by wide, round, mirror-finish earrings.

“Ales?” Betilla asked, getting his attention. “What’s the disguise for?”

He felt a little bit silly after the fact, shrugging and turning to sit next to the bed again. “Didn’t want the kid to think they were the only one.”

She accepted the explanation, and took a seat next to her lover. They watched the child for what felt like eternity. It had only been a few minutes.

“You got a name for ‘em?” Ales asked. Betilla closed her eyes, lifting her chin up as she considered something suitable for the little one.

When she settled on a proper name, she spoke it to life: “Reimen.”

“Rayman,” The Magician repeated. “Far out, it suits them.”

Betilla finally allowed herself a smile. “I’m assuming the glamour is so you don’t have to return to the mainland, correct?”

Ales turned away again, cheeks deepening in color. “It’s mostly for you, I promise. I was joking about loitering, y’know, I’ll do anything to help out with Ray. Don’t even need to ask.”

The nymph planted her head on top of the Teensy’s. He relaxed, pressing his muzzle against the underside of her chin, letting out a quiet purr. It felt like bliss, and soothed Betilla down to her bones. Unsure of the future, but not of Ales’ adoration, she pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“I know you will,” she mumbled against his skin, making sure her words seeped into his very being.

Chapter Text

The Magician awakened. The smell of fresh foliage lulled his senses, but the unfamiliar mattress under him pulled him up into full consciousness. He still felt dazed from the drowsiness, trying to remember where he was, and why the hair over his eyes was gold instead of silver. 

Oh, that’s right. It wasn’t a dream.

Ales peeled the blanket back, its floral scent reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this cabin. Of course he wasn’t, this was Betilla’s home, and he was here as a guest and as help. Help with the pup, Rayman. As he got up, he made note of the bare chamber, of the hallway, of the stairs leading up to the main floor. An open wardrobe here, a missing satchel there, and a lack of any chit chat bouncing against the walls. They must have woken up before him, judging by the silence in the building.

Must be out for errands.

He almost felt a little jealous, being left behind while Betilla and the pup bonded through a little outing. However, what won him over was the relief and warmth at the thought of the child’s needs being prioritized, without question. He could take care of himself just fine. 

Or, he would’ve, if he hadn’t found a bowl of warm porridge waiting for him at the kitchen counter. He smiled hungrily. How could he say no to such a thoughtful meal, all dolled up in berries and syrup? Ales savored the sweet cereal, fruity and tangy in his mouth, melting back into a dreamy state of mind as he ate. He peacefully floated through cloud nine, savoring his breakfast, up until he heard a soft thump up above. A series of smaller thumps against the roof got his full attention, worrying him to the possibility of a shoddy roof job, or possibly an animal stuck on the ceiling.

“Do you think you can manage a longer jump?” Betilla’s voice came from outside. He connected the dots in his mind and didn’t hesitate to stumble outside in a panic.

The nymph, donning an emerald green coat over her wings, was preoccupied with something up on her roof, smiling enthusiastically as her hands reached upwards. 

“Bets,” Ales wheezed out. “Where’s the kid?” 

“Ales!” Betilla’s attention lowered to her partner, her surprise unable to dampen her excitement. “Good morning, darling! Come out, come out, Rayman is—“

A louder thump regains her attention, as well as the attention of The Magician. Up on the edge of the conical roof, the little one stomped his yellow sneakers as hard as he could, making sure all eyes were on him. His mother promised to watch, after all!

Ales’ heart jumped to his throat.

“I have my eye on you, don’t worry,” She called out to the boy with a relaxed timbre that did not soothe her partner. “Whenever you're ready, jump!” 

Invigorated, the child nodded confidently and backed up, until the arch or the roof was too steep for his feet. Ray got a running start.

“Wait, wait, wait!!!”

Ales uprooted grass with how quickly he lunged forward. He was ready to catch the little beast before he could go splat against the dirt; however, instead of a heavy torso dropping onto his hands, he was met with a gust of wind, complimentary of the kid’s helicoptering hair. His plum poncho bellowed in the breeze, making Ray seem more like a ghost. Ales felt like he saw a ghost, at least.

When the tufts gave out, Rayman freefell directly into Betilla’s arms with a soft oof and nothing worse. He giggled in joy, and the fairy gave her pup a tight squeeze before letting him run free. Ales watched as she fished a small notebook out of her pockets, and quickly scribbled some numbers into its pages before they left her. She looked content and peaceful, and he wondered if he was still delirious from just waking up.

“What was that?” He asked with a cracking voice.

“Hm?” She hummed in return, side eyeing him curiously. “Oh! His hover! It’s still quite short, but very impressive for it being his first time.”

“No, I don’t think I’m being clear enough,” Ales hurriedly corrected, clearing his throat to avoid another squeak. “What are you doing? Why are you letting a child climb up the roof?”

“I was doing some errands,” Betilla began, her partner’s alarm flying over her head as she recounted her morning: “We needed food and clothing, of course, and the little one wanted to come. I got some groceries, plenty of fruit, while he picked out his own clothes! I think his favorite was the red scarf, have you seen it? The cashier was so kind, called Ray a handsome little boy, and I think he liked the title, oh he was beaming Ales. I also chose some more demure dresses. This coat is hot, but that’s not important. What’s important is that I learned quite a bit from our trip! He’s a marvel, very different from other gladefolk, and I couldn’t help but, ah… observe.”

Betilla finally noticed Ales’ expression, concern mixed in with something, she wanted to guess it was some intrigue. She flushed at the staring, rubbing her cheek. She stammered a bit when she asked: “I-I’m guessing I shouldn’t be, ah… doing that?”

He shook his head, and tried to form a coherent thought in between the confusion. “No, not really. People usually don’t let their kids jump off the roof. Though, in hindsight, no way you could’ve known that.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry!” Ales continued hurriedly. “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. Kids are fragile. What’s got me hooked is, well, didn’t ya mention wanting Ray to grow up normal? Why are you lookin’ into his powers?”

“Of course I want him to grow up normal,” the nymph nodded, voice lowering to something quieter and weightier. “Why else are we disguised? Rayman doesn’t need the attention we could bring. However, he IS very new, as well as young. I cannot care for him if I don’t know his needs and limits.”

“That is true…” the shorter limbless covered his mouth to mimic her volume. His head leaned to the side to watch the pup bouncing about, climbing trees and watching butterflies flutter by. Terror dissipated from his demeanor, and he sighed. “Just be a lil’ bit more careful. I get testing limits, but kids aren’t as tough as adults.”

“I’ll make sure not to forget, thank you.” Betilla smiled more softly, looking back at her little one as he played. Ales couldn’t help his own timid smile.

“Though, one more thing?” he raised his voice to something more playful. “Call it what it is, you just wanna study the brand new little beast.”

“Shush!” She turned back to Ales with bright red cheeks, pressing her smile tightly. “It can be both, you know! Curiosity and consideration go hand in hand!”

“Whatever you say!” Ales cackled with a sharper grin. “What’s in that notebook anyways? Gimme a peek.”

“You’re no different!!!”

~0~

This journal serves to document any and all details regarding Reimen, given the title The Lum King by Betilla N.O.D., under the suggestion of The Magician.

Rayman is a creation of Earthly and Fae magic, disconnected from the imagination of our Lord The Bubble Dreamer. He has taken the form of an independent pup, capable of walking, communicating, and interacting with the world around him. He is about the height of the average adult teensy, 68.5cm (not counting his hair tufts). His limbs are all free-floating, much like my own,  with small, dark claws on both his hands and feet, as well as a tail, consisting of a short dock and a long skirt, at the base of his torso. His head consists of large eyes and a round snout, with emotive tufts of hair, so light they stand instead of droop. While the child is intersex, Rayman has shown preference for masculine terms, and thus will be referred to as such. 

The child is very bright and energetic. He’s been blessed with an inherent curiosity for his home, and is very hands on when it comes to discovery. He almost drowned while trying to study the water in his bath. It might be best to teach him inquiry as a priority. Rayman has a particular wonderment for lums, quick to follow them whenever they take interest in him as well. This bodes well for his future, if the hero and lums are able to feel a kinship this early in his life.

~0~

“There you are!” Betilla giggled as she scooped Rayman out of a shaggy bush. “Bravo! you’re quite the hiding master.”

The boy grinned, pride beaming out of his teeth. His head bobbed in a little victory dance while the nymph holding his torso bounced in her own heels. It was a whimsical kind of waltz Ales could watch for hours on end, possibly even join if he hadn’t checked out from sheer exhaustion; his partner and the pup really knew how to play. All he could do was lean against a rosy tree and enjoy the show.

“How about another game?” Betilla asked, and the child practically wiggled out of her grasp to brace himself for another win. The nymph felt pride, oh so clever to use game time as a way to observe some of Rayman’s abilities in action. With a quick reaction time and quicker problem solving skills, she now wanted to see if he was just quick in general: “let’s play tag, my child! It’s very simple. One of us will be ‘it’, and whoever’s it has to try and catch the other. Then, they’ll be it!”

Ray thought about it. His brown eyes ping-ponged from side to side, as his brain tried to find a win condition in the eternal chase of tag. When inspiration struck, the boy nodded confidently.

“Alright,” Betilla nodded back. “Then how about you go—“ before she could finish her thought, a tiny hand bapped her tummy. She didn’t even have time to react as the little one zoomed away from her side, as far as he could while staying inside the forest’s clearing. Betilla gasped dramatically. “You sneaky scoundrel!”

And thus began the chase. The nymph began with a brisk walk, hands behind her back. Ray did not move, eyes locked with hers as she acted like they hadn’t entered a brutal cold war. They smiled at each other, knowingly. Betilla lunged for the boy, only for him to swerve in an arch, right under her gloved hand. He zipped away with a laugh, and his creator followed suit, hiking up her dress to keep pace with the little one. A jog became a trot. A trot became feet kicking up dirt as they circumvented each other on the wild pursuit. Around trees, over stumps and rocks, Rayman took every obstacle to his advantage, while Betilla tried her damndest to keep herself from floating behind the speedster.

They had become blurs to Ales. He slowly sat up, eyes widening in awe, and reached inside his tophat for a notepad and stopwatch. His pupils flicked between stones and mushrooms, gears turning in his head as he scratched their presumed distance. He tried to follow the boy and keep an eye on the ticking watch at the same time, unwilling to waste any precious frames from escaping his calculating mind. And, goodness he was glad he did, because he caught exactly when the pup’s shoe landed on a large, loose rock that rolled away from him and twisted his foot into a harsh angle. Ales was up and ready to move as soon as Ray, quite literally, tumbled forward, his limbs scattering far and wide across the clearing from the sheer momentum of his speed. Betilla gasped as she caught his torso, quickly making her way next to the kneeling magician. 

“Rayman?” her whisper was laced with concern, eyes darting between the child and her partner. “Oh dear, is the little one ok?” Ales took deep breaths, his face neutral but painfully tense as he checked every body part he collected. At least we don’t have to worry about any twisted ankles, he internally joked as an attempt to remain jovial about this. He scanned the boy’s hands and feet, each safe and sound inside thick fabrics, much to his quiet relief. However, Ray’s nose was a different story.

“Oh, look at you,” he crooned quietly, cradling the pup’s teary face and gently rubbing the scratches down the front of his snout, red and angry from scraping against the gravelly dirt at such a speed. The boy sniffled, then flinched, and it broke Betilla’s heart into a million pieces. However, before she could reveal her magic to the little one, Ales got to work. Pulling his staff out of his cape, he squeezed its glass bulb until its murky insides glowed bright red, his other hand carefully brushing away debris from the injury. Deft fingers swirled with mana, the warmth of magic seeping into broken skin and stitching it back together, restoring it back to normal. Ray rubbed where his injury once marked his face, tears dissipating as the hurt became itchiness. “There we go! Good as new!” Ales smiled, helping the boy rebuild himself and patting his tufts of hair.

 The nymph squeezed The Magician’s shoulder appreciatively. “Thank you very much, dear,” she still spoke in that hushed tone, but much more relieved, both for the well being of her little one and for the sanctity of her secret. Her smile matched his when she turned to a Rayman busily rubbing his tear-streaked cheeks with a hint of annoyance. 

She laughed lightheartedly and tilted the pup’s head from under by the chin. “Have no shame in your tears, my child. You’re in your right to express your pain.”

Ray nodded, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. With some quick thought, Betilla tried a cheekier approach: “Are you embarrassed by your fall? Now, don’t fret, we all tumble from time to time! Why, last week, The Magician lost his footing, and his pieces all rolled away! My, I think he lost his left hand under the couch!”

Rayman snickered, and Ales sprung up to his feet, free hand clutching his chest in performative outrage.

“The audacity,” he gasped! “The gall on you, My Lady, to say such slander! ”

Ray’s laughs grew clearer, louder, and Betilla couldn’t help her own chitter. Nevertheless, the limbless continued, strutting away from their laughter: “I will have you know, boy, that your creator is telling you a great big fib! I ain’t no putz, and I could do somersaults in these pumps if I wanted to-”

Right at that moment, his oh so reliable footwear failed him, one twisting to its side until he lost his footing. Despite regaining his balance, the stumble had the child in hysterics, guffaws booming across the forest opening. Rayman rolled on his back, Betilla covered her mouth to hold back her giggles, and despite the cackling at his expense, Ales was happy to see the child in a better mood. He shot the nymph a knowing wink before twisting his face away with a theatrical hmph!

~0~

Rayman’s speed is quite impeccable, reaching an average of 75 km per hour at his fastest. Even at this velocity, the child has proven himself to be dexterous at avoiding capture, skillfully evading my grasp before I could even blink! It brings me comfort to know he won’t be entirely vulnerable to any potential nightmares who’ll come across him. However, the poor thing did scatter due to a terrible fall. We were concerned he might have suffered serious bodily injury, but upon further examination of all his pieces, nothing more grievous than some bruising and some scratches on his muzzle could be found. His bones have absorbed the force of the fall surprisingly well, and might even be able to tolerate further bending; this calls for further testing of his abilities, hopefully in a cleaner, more controlled environment. 

First and foremost, Rayman needs to strengthen the bonds between his limbs further, for his own safety. The thought of the pup suffering such an aggressive fall again  makes my heart ache, and I do not have the luxury of calling upon the red lums for aid.

~0~

“Thank you. Enjoy your day.” Ales waved off the store clerk, a canvas tote full of parchment and ink. While not the best tools for home improvement, he looked forward to filling his new shelves with maps and blueprints in his free time.

The Magician’s cottage had remained bare for most of their stay, mostly due to his priorities being on the child skipping ahead of him, enjoying the clear day’s sun rays. However, Betilla insisted that he couldn’t live with just the bare necessities! She practically dragged her other half and pup into town where Ales picked up materials, tools, and the odd throw pillow or two. While he dragged his feet before, he was now thrilled about getting his hands busy once again, jabbering to the nymph about shelves, and desks, and maybe even a surprise for her own living room.

Rayman hopped from cobblestone to cobblestone, careful to not touch any of the road’s seams, chewing on raw fish Amamay had gifted him. His attention was on everything and nothing at all; counting the puffy clouds in the sky, following his nose for the smell of taverns and coffee shops, keeping his ears open to the chirping birds and insects hiding in the trees. Soon enough, the song of bees was replaced by the thrum of a guitar calling for the child to follow. Ray rushed forward, gripping the fish in his mouth as he stumbled into the glob responsible for the music. He was a stout and rotund amphibian, serenading his long-haired wife and bushy-headed tadpole.

Ales and Betilla’s small talk slowed as they followed their pup to the small park strip in between two sets of steps, the patch of grass and thin tree held up by dusty red bricks and framed by golden railing. The nymph smiled brightly at the sight of the busking family and waved a friendly hello, joining Ray in enjoying the slow tune. The teensy, meanwhile, found himself standing behind them both, enjoying the music from a distance. 

The family’s tadpole leaned over to their fellow kid with a swish of their tail and began to sing, a bubbly melody to accompany their father’s strumming. Ray smirked, the singer smirked back, and as soon as the song began to repeat, the pup joined in as a duet. Their voices popped in tandem, reverberating against each other, against the guitar’s own song, against the rustle of leaves above them. Suddenly, the music stopped, and their parents applauded their sweet melody, filling them both in pride. Rayman’s chest swelled with pride, and he patted the tadpole’s back to encourage them to join in the basking of glory. They bowed as far down as they could to show their gratitude. 

The guitar-playing glob approached Betilla: “Lil’ fella sure knows how to have a good time,” he said with a chuckle, shaking her hand. “Name’s Barry Tone, my other half over there’s Sopra,” 

The long-haired glob waved with a dreamy smile, cradling her tadpole in her slender arms.

“And the squirt’s Maizy,” he continued “We’re just visitin’ the Dream Valley, I’m guessing so are you?”

“Very nice to meet you and your family, mister Tone!” The nymph reciprocated the handshake. She answered to his introductions with her own: “Actually, we’ve moved here from the mainland as apprentices of magic. You may call me Betty, and my husband’s known as The Magician. Our pup’s name is Rayman.”

“Ah, the researcher type!” Barry nodded. “Well, if you ever need directions here and there, don’t be scared to call us for a tour. Not just ‘round here, make sure to visit the whole archipelago! Good for the kid’s development.”

“Oh, I will, thank you very much!”

Barry couldn’t help his own curiosity, neck straining to look behind the fairy and towards her partner. Ales sat on the stairs with Rayman on his lap, less so engaging in the conversation between Sopra and the kids, and more so acting as if he were another decorative statue. “Say, Missus Betty,” he mumbled, raising a brow. “Is your hubs new? Y’know, new-new ? Never seen anything like him or your lil’ guy before.” As he tilted his head for a better view, his eyes squinted in thought. “Though, he does seem kinda familiar.”

The Magician noticed eyes on him and quickly hid his face behind the tall collar of his cape.

Betilla tensed. “Why, yes!” she confirmed his suspicions, a tad too hurriedly. “They are quite new, you’re right! Freshly dreamed by The Bubble Dreamer, oh now what did he call them… well, he called The Magician a… a thingamajig of sorts—“

“A thingamajig?!” Barry cackled and slapped his knee in amusement. “Boy, Lord Polokus’ gettin’ real bad at naming stuff, hah! Well, welcome them both into the world for me!”

Betilla sighed in relief. With no more questions about their existence, she continued her small talk with the musician, even receiving his home’s phone number. With how interactive Rayman had been with little Maizy, she looked forward to a future playdate.

~0~

Rayman’s ear for music is very impressive. He was able to harmonize with a fellow child after a few moments of listening to her song. I wonder if his affinity for music is connected to the light of the lums inside of him; this requires further observation in the future. I’d simply love to travel to the island of Band Sands with him and Al The Magician, he’d have enough space and readily available instruments for him to play. I should invite The Musician’s child as well, the thingamajig is very sociable and genuinely enjoys her company. Playdates sound simply enchanting.

I guess his species’ name will be Thingamajig now, until I can think of a better name for his kind. Shouldn’t be too difficult to replace.

…

The child has adjusted to his environment in record time! Though, his personality is a far-cry to the giggling pup I’ve created on top of that stone disk. He’s a showboat, not very humble, and has a bit of sass in him. Despite everything, I can’t help but be endeared by the boy’s unending confidence. He manages to balance out his cockiness with kindness and selflessness, and his attitude never veers into malice. He reminds me a lot of The Magician, I wonder if the boy’s been—

~0~

“Mimicking?” Ales asked, lowering Betilla’s journal to reveal his amused smirk. “Of course he’s mimicking, Bets baby, why do you think he’s such a sweetheart? He must’ve gotten something from tailing you around everywhere.”

The nymph snatched her notebook from his hands, hiding it in between the wide arms of her coat and the rustic wood of their small, round table. Ales barely held back a wheezing laugh, which only deepened her pout as she scolded him: “Now, is this the time to tease me?”

“Teasing?” He said, nonchalant, “whatever do you mean, my dear? I thought you would’ve appreciated some peer review.”

“Not in the middle of Joe’s.”

They were, in fact, in the middle of Eat at Joe’s, a little seaside snack spot by the shores of Skop’s scaves. Caves. Joe’s colorful, beachy atmosphere and family friendly vibes were simply not the right setting for peer reviewing. At least, Betilla didn’t think so.

“Oh, usually I’d agree,” Ales nodded thoughtfully. “However, I’m not the one taking notes while we’re having family brunch. Had another revelation while the pup’s amusing himself?” They glanced over at Ray, who had tired of waiting for their meal to come and was passing the time building a fortress of sand around him. The fairy’s sheepish smile spread easily.

“Oh, something like that, but not exactly,” she said with a shrug, reaching again for her journal to flip its pages absentmindedly. “I’m still trying to organize my thoughts, that's all. My mind’s all over the place when it comes to Rayman, it simply won’t stop thinking about everything it has seen! I guess I’m just marveling at his existence.”

Ales’ smile softened to something lighter. “It’s sweet how entranced you are by a child’s natural behavior.” His compliment regained Betilla’s attention, earning him a tilt of her head.

“Natural?”

“Yes, natural,” he added with a small laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, some of the stuff the kid’s shown off has been nothing short of incredible, but half of what you've written down this past month has been perfectly normal. Scuffing himself up, wanting to play with other kids, copying us, ” Ales leaned forward, hands propped beneath his chin. “You just love watching a kid experience being a kid.”

Betilla’s own smile relaxed, her eyes wandering back to the pup lazing in the sand. “My, I never thought of it like that,” she admitted with a voice full of fondness. “I guess I really do not know what a child is. How silly of me.”

The couple stayed like that for what felt like eternity, quietly observing the small beast simply existing in their world. How long could they do this, they didn’t know, but at the moment it might as well would’ve been forever. There really was something perplexing and wonderful about the concept of a little one growing so fast in such a short time. The nymph truly wanted to know more, but she began to wonder how Ales could recognize the actions of a growing boy at his age.

She had to ask: “Magician, where did you get such knowledge about children?”

The teensy didn’t answer. In fact, his gaze stayed on the young thinga, avoidant of Betilla’s growing suspicion. It was her turn to grin.

“Ales, did you happen to research children in the past?”

“Just a lil’ curiosity of mine, nothing more!”

“Oh, you soft-hearted sap!” She cooed with a giggle. “When was this? I must know! Did I happen to spark this interest of yours, or has it been much older than our—?“

“And here I thought you disliked teasing.”

“Teasing?” Betilla smirked, nonchalant, “whatever do you mean?”

Before Ales could retort, Joe’s waitress buzzed towards their table, a firefly in a rich green uniform. Her thick southern accent resounded as the magic hands holding her tray passed about their brunch: “I’ve got a trio of waffle stacks for the chatty couple and their lil’ pup!” Both adults pressed their lips together in embarrassment.

The firefly paid no mind to them, instead turning to Rayman, still sitting on the sand. “Well, come on up sugar,” she spoke to him with affection. “Ain’tcha hankerin’ for somethin’ sweet?” When the boy hesitantly climbed up his chair, she gave him an extra napkin for his sandy hands, and returned to the alien still behind the counter.

Ray studied the tower sitting in front of him, poking at its levels with his fork. Apprehension and curiosity battled for dominance in his mind, until The Magician popped a slice of his own tower into his mouth.

“They won’t bite, kiddo,” he mumbled, cheeks full of dough and syrup. He gulped, and continued; “They’re waffles, what I was telling you about! Try a piece, and tell me whatcha think.” 

With a new resolve, the young thinga sliced a wedge off the side of his babel, and popped all three slices caught on his fork into his mouth.  His eyes lit up, taste buds serenaded by the sugary, sticky, positively vanilly flavors of his brunch. Before common sense could return to the child, instinct took over, and he began shovelling more chunks of fluffy goodness into his maw, as if the poor boy were being starved and this was his first ever meal. Ales cackled and pleaded with the little beast to slow down, half amused by his adoration of the sweet treat, half terrified he’d choke on the thick cakes. Betilla beamed a jolly grin, using their distraction to scribble in a few more notes.

Rayman’s incredibly sprightly! He loves anything that’s sweet and flavorful, he probably needs all the energy he can get. Oh, but I can’t allow him to have too much sugar, he might get sick. Could he get sick? I wouldn’t like to test that hypothesis, but I can always observe—

Her train of thought was halted by a tight embrace, squeezing her middle with so much excitement and love she forgot how to breathe for a moment. When the nymph looked down, she was face to face with the little pup, future hero of the Glade of Dreams, bright-eyed and adoring and covered in syrup.

“Thank you for the trip,” he mumbled into her dress, his words warm like the morning. It made Betilla’s heart ache in a way that fed the protective streak within her. He wasn’t a hero yet, that would be for another day, thousands of days away. He could continue to enjoy his existence as he was now, and the nymph would continue to watch over him like the lovely creation he was.