Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Onism - n. The awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows was a weird book. It’s a newer book, came out a couple of years ago, with plenty of sounds and words that seemed to be created on an artist’s alcoholic bender. But the little kid that read through the entire book at least five times, kicking their legs up and pretending that their situation was completely normal, saw that word and looked out their barred window.

A furious rainstorm was going on. The ceiling was barely able to keep itself from cascading, but droplets still escaped from time to time, to which the tower’s only resident had to put four buckets around their bedroom to catch them all. Beyond all the gray clouds, there wasn’t much to see.

It was a small window, made even smaller by the iron that barred entry or departure, but it was all the child knew. Well, except for the books, but they were typical childish fluff. Princes and princesses, happily ever afters, showcasing worlds where the one who was abused made it out okay in the end. The child is only seven, but they already know that their happily ever after won’t come anytime soon.

Silver hair cascaded down all the way to their hips, an impossible feat suddenly made possible by their parents insisting on them never cutting their hair ever to appear ‘innocent’ and ‘marketable.’ They were basically a plastic doll, but they didn’t get sold to some other family to actually pay attention to them; they were just stuck telling fortunes. Even if they were honest, and that was only when they had control over their sudden clairvoyant flashes, the client usually hated their answers, because they didn’t involve happily ever after. In the psychic’s opinion, the clients deserved the brutal truth, but their parents only got more angry. And now they’re arguing all the way at the bottom floor of the tower, which is where they had the ferret habitat.

That’s all the kid was to their parents; a pet.

An adorable little thing that they could showcase at parties and force to do fun little tricks to garner oohs and aahs. They fought every week now, arguing which scheme they wanted to use their gifted child for next; blackmailing the king, getting directions to treasure troves, infiltrating on the political secrets and scandals that anyone would sell all four of their limbs to keep hidden, or to gain access to. Anything to make these already rich wine barons even richer.

It was never enough for them. Always more.

The reader dropped the book and began to nervously suck on their monocle. They had eye problems, not that their parents cared, but the monocle was not their prescription. It was just a glass thing that they kept around for whatever reason. The monocle was always there; in some sick way it was the only support they had.

Sooner or later, the young clairvoyant felt a sudden surge; the air around them becoming still, their surroundings blurring into purple smoke, eventually obscuring their vision completely. The only thing they could see was their crystal ball, and the little world that was held inside.

They always liked this part. The visions of people enjoying their lives from a mysterious person’s perspective. Mystery Man was always there when their parents weren’t. Right now, he was watching a play of sorts, and they caught a part in which dancers with long billowing sleeves and a bejeweled ensemble came to wow the audience’s senses. The performers almost looked like ghosts, fabric swirling around them as if the people themselves were phasing in and out of reality. It was mesmerizing. Beautiful. Fantasy.

The vision stopped. They were alone in their tiny little world again.

—

Quinn’s eyes stung for a moment after the blast of light. The corners of their vision became spotty and they had to shake their head once or twice before they could finally see what was in front of them. Their ears woke up far faster than their eyes did, and they could hear the very passionate cheers coming from the audience underneath them. In retrospect, they should’ve brought their glasses to a completely sold out stadium event like this to actually see what the hell was going on. But they would rather be caught dead than be seen with their ugly spectacles on in public. Well, Sylvia could see them with glasses on, maybe. But that’s a big maybe, a six month relationship milestone at least.

Speaking of Sylvia, she was also shaking the vision out of her eyes, but immediately afterward she took a deep breath and showed her Shadow Tonic…

…Didn’t they already do this part?

Quinn could’ve sworn they just saw Sylvia win this round. She should’ve won the entire competition by now; confetti flying, cheers from the audience, Baptiste giving her the Mavenbloom and all the glory she damn well deserved for working her bottom off these five weeks. The entire reason the ingredient merchant got here (other than supporting their girlfriend, obviously) was to see the look on that pretty boy, poster child, overrated ‘hero’, Robin snivel at the mere thought of losing for once in his life. And then that ugly little cretin, Mae…

…ven.

…Oh right. Maven lived. And now she’s a gecko with a god complex.

That crystal…she mentioned that everyone in the stadium would forget her reveal. Forget Sylvia’s victory. Well…Quinn guessed that’s what she did. But Maven didn’t account for clairvoyants being immune to other mental magic spells, which included spells that would erase people’s memories. They scoffed. Idiot.

Maven couldn’t see them from where they were watching the battle, which is a spot in the sky in a particularly shady area in the open stadium. She probably didn’t notice them, because why would the cryptid enby with a bloodthirsty mimic as an ingredient stall ever go to a place like this?

Jokes on her. Quinn liked a good show. And Quinn really liked Sylvia.

The potion selling battle went on for a little while, with the redhead in question becoming more anxious as the taunts kept piling on. Oh no. She’s had to do three battles in a row now; and one didn’t even count because of some evil magic crystal bullcrap.

Quinn leaned forward from where they were sitting on their broom, eyebrows furrowed. If she didn’t come up with something soon she’d be too stressed to function. But the ingredient vendor could see that lizard on Robin’s shoulder, the queen who jabbed and leered and hissed at the humble potion maker. That reptile knew everything that everyone else in the entire world forgot, and the witch reveled in being kept a dark little secret. It all became too much for her, and she collapsed.

Baptiste called a forfeit from Sylvia, and the crowd murmured as she ran from her pedestal.

Quinn’s gray hair wisped past their ears as they zoomed all the way to the ground, desperate to get to Sylvia’s preparation room. Behind the stadium seating, to the right, next to the pickle stand. Two guards of course blocked the door, but a quick snarl from Boxer easily got them to relent.

Quinn gently knocked on the door. One two, one two three.

Moments passed. The guards tried to ambush Quinn. Boxer barked at them again. 

Finally, the door opened. Sylvia’s hair was frazzled, her eyes red, her mouth stained with feyberry juice, and a half eaten fruit in her hand. Underripe, at least it looked like it from the way she could easily crease holes into it. “Quinn…?”

“Yea, came to see if you didn’t die out there,” Quinn remarked as they went inside her depressingly small resting room. It held one loveseat, a mini fridge, and a single wall mirror. Well, it looked less like a mirror used to make sure your hair or makeup was perfectly in place, and more like a window into the many sins you have committed. An existential crisis machine. “…Nice place.”

“Yea…Even crappier than when the shop first opened, right?”

Sylvia didn’t sound like her normal self. Less chipper, less flirty, less passionate, and more…stressed. Of course, Quinn knew about Sylvia’s anxiety, with how many times she vented about the impatient socialites and the gloomy patrons making her heart race and her self esteem plummet. Even though they were also a store owner, they didn’t get many customers, and they were certainly not charismatic enough to enter tournaments. So they could only imagine doing that same exhausting routine in front of the entire city, in the finals of the greatest competition Rafta has ever seen, all while going against the very face of the island itself. “…Is there anything I can do to help…?”

Green eyes peered up through sweaty strands of reddish-pink fringe, and even though she was currently recovering from her worst nightmare, she managed to give her partner a smile, “Stay here…Just you being here helps.”

“Yea…yea I can do that. Easy,” Quinn sat down next to her on the couch, reaching to hold her hand. It was shaking, but it was less jittery once Quinn touched her. The merchant looked up at her, noticing that her face was getting calmer. She ate her fruit again, then licked her lips afterward. “…This feyfruit is underripe.”

Quinn chuckled, “I noticed. Don’t worry, Boxer is always open for business.” On queue, the mimic opened up his gigantic maw and revealed a plethora of ingredients, which is so vast in part from Sylvia feeding Quinn new goods every time she visits them. It was honestly becoming a bit overflowing, but business was getting more successful on the psychic’s end. The potion maker gave her lover a couple coins, and then grabbed a ripe fruit. It was a little bit old, but it beat having her face becoming a sticky mess.

Boxer closed his mouth, and Quinn gave him pets. They gave a glance to Sylvia, “Better?”

Sylvia gave a small nod, “Better…”

Another bite, “…I’ll win this thing. I know it.”

Quinn smirked at her, scooting closer to her still fruit stained mouth, “I know you will. And that’s not the visions talking, that’d be cheating.”

Sylvia looked down at the human gremlin and let out a laugh, “Now why would I use you to cheat?”

“I know plenty of things you could take advantage of by dating someone with telemetry. Cheating at the competition would just be the most boring option.”

“And what’s the most exciting option…?” Sylvia asked, her eyes getting shifty. The flirty look; the one that always made Quinn’s cold heart melt and their brown face turn as red as her hair, or all the juice on her lips. Speaking of which…

The psychic took a deep breath and gave a smirk, leaning forward and kissing Sylvia. This was Quinn’s second kiss ever, and it was much more confident than their first. Quinn wouldn’t say they were practicing, but they were studying other people kissing by licking old wedding rings they got from pawn shops to get visions.

It was a very odd way of studying how to kiss, but Quinn did just fine anyhow. When their lips united, Sylvia stopped for the smallest little moment before kissing back, a gloved hand settling on their exposed waist. Boxer went back into his box form, possibly to sleep but it’s also likely that he doesn’t want to see his owner sucking face with the frumpy potion lady.

Time was spent in a blur, but then a knock was heard on the door. “Sylvia! The third match will start in approximately five minutes. Your fans can’t wait for your victory. The crowd adores an underdog story. This match will be one for the history books, I just know it! Until then, ta ta~!”

Quinn separated from Sylvia and sighed; only Baptise could stand speaking in that flowery fairytale language.

“Times up,” They state as they wipe their mouth, now also having red stains. The competitor gets up from the couch, quickly making sure that her face didn’t look a mess. Quinn couldn’t help but swoon on the inside at the way she frantically got herself together, with her finally wiping her face clean. Sylvia turned to her lover, more like herself again, “Bye Quinn. Don’t stop rooting for me!”

“No promises.”

And with that she was gone. After a few seconds the vendor followed, ignoring the cowering guards and getting back to their spot in the sky. If they were honest with themself, the kisses they shared still frazzled them, more than they ever thought kissing would. Their head was still recovering from cloud nine.

Quinn looked down at the stage, and as soon as they focused, their stomach dropped. 

Oh right. Maven. Quinn almost forgot about her…

…They could tell Sylvia about that part later.

Chapter Text

A month after it all, it still seemed like a dream.

Sylvia won. She actually did it. She won the tournament and the Mavenbloom and managed to become the new face of Rafta, and more importantly she got to pay off her debt and cure her uncle of transmogrification.

Everything was great on her end, a happy ending to an underdog story.

But of course, that’s not the end. How could it be? There were still several things on her mind. The most prevalent being Maven and Robin.

Now that Sylvia quickly overran Robin, with her growing fame and novel journey, the former hero quickly faded into obscurity. That, and Maven hid in the shadows, still controlling that little boy as a puppet somewhere else.

The potionomics master never saw Robin or Maven again after that day. Some part of her hopes she will, another says she’s better off never knowing what happened afterward. She was no hero; no knight or wizard or chosen one. Defeating the Witch Queen was never supposed to be a potion brewer’s job. And yet…

“…Silverfish? You good?”

Sylvia shook her head at the sound of Quinn’s voice, reminded that she was indeed several tens of feet above the city of Rafta, on a rickety broom that definitely needed repairs sometime soon.

Her lover sighed at her with tired eyes, one red one gold, and then began to lay on their own broom, “You were dozing off in the distance again.”

“S-Sorry. Just got a lot on my mind…”

“What? With the gala or whatever?”

The redhead let out an exasperated sigh. How could she forget about the gala? Not only was it supposed to be this huge fancy schmancy event that raised ‘political intrigue’ or whatever stuff Helene described it as, but as a cruel twist of fate it was held the night before another big event.

“…Yea. I mean, what kind of a birthday present is that? Like, ‘Happy Birthday, Sylvia! Have some crippling anxiety.’”

Sylvia tried to joke, but it was clear that her mind was all over the place, so Quinn turned to lay on their side while looking up at her, “Yea…it’s not ideal. But what is?”

Their girlfriend gave them a small grin, “You keep saying that.”

“I come with fifty marketable catchphrases. Sue me, why don’t you?”

Sylvia let out a chortle, which made Quinn a bit more relieved. At least they could cheer her up like this, with their admittedly pathetic attempts at comedy, “So is there anything else I can do? We can always get ice cream or something to get your mind off things.”

She shook her head, leaning back against her own broom, “Nah. I gotta help Oswald at the shop. It’s supposed to be extremely busy the next two weeks, so we gotta stock up. Live up to the reputation of being the best, y’know.”

“Yea, but, that sounds exhausting…You do take breaks, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I spend my free time with friends, which helps. And you,” Sylvia leaned over to kiss Quinn on the nose, which immediately caused them to scoot away and hide their face with their one eyed hat. Their lover leans closer, making sure to get a fair few inches away from them; she knows they’re not a fan of their personal space being invaded much.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to the gala?”

Quinn poked their gold iris out from the split seam of their hat, “Now why in the seven hells would I go to the gala?”

Sylvia sat up and counted on her fingers as she listed her points, “Well, you can promote your wares to the socialites there and get a lotta coin selling goods, you can wear a very nice outfit since you refuse to buy more than two shirts a year, there’s bound to be lots of tasty food there, you can maybe even get new ingredients for your shop if you-“

“Sylvia, I…” Quinn sighed, biting their lip. Their clenched hands were bunching up the rim of their hat, “…I don’t do crowds. I don’t do rich. I definitely don’t do politics…”

The gloomy professional finally let go of their hat, revealing that they were shamefully looking down at their lap. They tried to find the right thing to say to her, “Sorry, I…I wish I could…Ugh…”

At the sight of their struggle, Sylvia floated closer, letting out a reassuring hand. Quinn leaned forward which allowed their partner to give them a comforting rub on their bare shoulder. Green eyes met with theirs, “You don’t have to apologize. You being miserable at that party will only make things worse. I never, never want to put you in a place where you don’t feel safe. It’s okay, Quinn. Really.”

Quinn gave a small nod, knowing full well that they’re still going to feel guilty about it. Abandoning your girlfriend at a nerve wracking gala the day before her birthday? What kind of a partner does that…?

Arms wrapped around them, as Sylvia has taken the liberty to give them a hug. They hugged back while burrowing their face in her shoulder. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. They won’t cry in front of her; not yet. 

After a few moments, Sylvia pulled away and then gave them her brightest smile, “You can join me at the shop, if you want. You can even sleep over.”

Quinn shook their head, “Nah. You gotta focus. I’ll distract you…In more ways than one.”

Sylvia laughed bashfully, looking down at her knees. She finally steered her broom farther away from them, gathering up all the ingredients she bought for her rigorous brewing session tonight. Quinn’s girlfriend gave one final wave to them before she flew back down to the surface, “G’night Quinn!”

Quinn looked down and gave a pathetic shake of the hand back at her, aware that she can’t see it from her view anymore. “…G’night blightroach.”

The bustle of night down below was always soothing to Quinn. The sound of people walking to and from their homes, the small specs of light that poked through the windows, the night creatures finally making themselves heard after a long day; all of this never failed to soothe them. They laid back against their broom, fully prepared to rest for the night. The rim of their cap covered their eyes. They tried to doze off.

…

…Oh goodie, another restless night.

The sleepy salesperson groaned in frustration as they sat up again to rub their tired eyes. How can sleeping be so hard? Quinn loved sleeping. Why were they always so exhausted? It didn’t make any damn sense.

But they knew why they couldn’t sleep. At least, tonight’s reason. It was guilt. Needless guilt. The type of guilt that comes out of setting boundaries and saying no to things like a normal human being. Quinn wasn’t normal. They were something else. No human was as messed up as they were.

No, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Quinn took deep breaths, trying to stop the burning in their eyes from releasing tears. One breath, two breaths, three breaths.

The tears went back to their hiding place. Good.

They felt a pressure on their lap, as well as a stench that indicated that someone badly needed a teeth cleaning. Boxer. 

The mimic could always tell when Quinn was feeling down, and he always sat on their lap without fail when things got bad.

Quinn formed a sad smile and gave him his well deserved pets. Boxer always helped them in times like this. He grounded them back to reality.

The silver-haired cretin looked up at the crescent moon hiding in the clouds, sorting through their thoughts.

…Why couldn’t they go to the gala?

Quinn knew the obvious reasons; because they’d be a nervous wreck, or worse, they’d make everyone else’s night miserable due to their abrasive personality. Like an animal biting when backed into a corner.

But they never truly tried to go to parties. Parties reminded them of their childhood. Being a centerpiece; an attraction.

The party wasn’t supposed to be about bragging rights this time around, though. Well…technically all rich people parties had someone bragging about something. But for this…they weren’t looking for Quinn, the amazing clairvoyant who can tell all the patrons’ family friendly fortunes. It was about Rafta. About Sylvia.

No one would give a damn about the rattish person who lived in the sky and sold old fruit for a living. 

So…why can’t they go? No one would care about them.

That’s exactly what Quinn wanted.

Even besides all of that beautiful anonymity, there was Sylvia.

It might’ve been too soon to say, compared to how the self help books and romcoms described love to Quinn, but they could probably tell. Sylvia might be the love of their life.

The only love they ever had in their life, more like.

Sylvia meant a lot to Quinn; more than they ever thought possible. When they first met, they were pissed that she invaded their brand new living space. It was a great place at first, with mildew and everything! But then someone from the continent had to go and clean it all up.

But Sylvia did save them that mildew. That’s when Quinn knew that she was different.

She actually…cared about them. Gave attention to them, gave them bugs and slimes instead of flowers, and gave them a plethora of non-digestible food to eat. Yea, she was mostly trying to get discounts on their ingredients to help out with the first few weeks of the potions competition, but who were they to bash on a good hustle?

Then…the funniest thing happened.

Quinn cared about Sylvia.

They formed an acquaintanceship, which then grew to friendship, to partnership, to love.

Love…In spite of the gods Quinn actually found love.

Sylvia did a lot for Quinn during their first few weeks of dating. She pulled not so legal pranks on civilians, almost made mortal enemies with the cat pirates hibernating on Rafta’s shores, ate strangely textured ingredients to see how well she could identify what was in her own potions.

And then she sang with them.

…They were blushing again. Dammit.

Luckily no one saw Quinn blush this time, but they still didn’t like how warm their cheeks got. Well…it was settled then. They would go to the gala. They had to, the birthday present they got her would probably get delayed in the mail anyway. Despite many advancements, Rafta’s postal service was still a pain in the arse.

By the time Quinn was done sorting through their clouded mind, Boxer was already snoring, his long tongue lolling out. They pet their little sidekick, but then another thought struck them.

Quinn needed an outfit. A good outfit. An outfit that didn’t come out of a dumpster, or even a thrift store. 

At least they know a person who has a fashion sense. She could help. She has to if she knows what’s good for her. Quinn grabbed their finest and spiciest peppers from Boxer’s exposed maw and slowly moved their broom down to the surface.

—

Roxanne heard a knock on her door. One two, one two three.

That’s odd, Sylvia just said she had to leave to get ingredients from that candy-looking bard’s expedition. Oswald was making deliveries too, so who could it be…?

The demoness shrugged and got up from her make-up chair to get to the cellar door. She stretched out her tail and shoulders before she finally unclasped the lock and pulled the door open to reveal the human raccoon. Roxanne raised a brow, “Quinn? Isn’t it past your nap time?”

“I wasn’t tired, now listen, I got an idea.”

Without any sort of ceremonial greeting, they plopped down from the ladder and made it to the more comfy area of the basement; ironically it was the one closest to lava, but Quinn didn’t mind the heat so much. They couldn’t help but notice various cardboard boxes, folded up and placed against her bed. 

The cellar of Sylvia and Oswald’s Potions Shop was also the bedroom to Roxanne, the infamous demon who scammed the people of Rafta via a variety of schemes for years, her latest and final one being disguising herself as a human potion maker to trick the public into buying what was essentially sparkly fruit juice.

Quinn admired Roxanne’s grind. They got to know each other better via their connection with Sylvia, though the times they get to actually sit down and chat about the various legal loopholes they both abused over the years are rare. Which is why Quinn brought special treats this time.

They sat down on the tiny wooden table right next to Roxanne’s vanity and placed down the goods; six daredevil peppers. The sight of their blue sheen caused the demoness’ eyes to sparkle like gems, “Oh, you little scoundrel, you shouldn’t have.”

Quinn shrugged, “I can always get more. Besides I’m not dumb enough to give you these for free,” they give her a smirk, their eyes half open and eager for a deal with a devil.

Roxanne recognized that look; she chuckled, stretching her arms and crossing one of her legs over the other, “A bet ~ I see now. What are the stakes, child?”

“I need a favor, and I know you don’t give those out freely either. So I want to play a little game.”

Roxanne rested her hands on the creaky table, “And the rules are…?”

“Whoever eats my ingredients without tapping out or getting a drink gets one free favor. The favors won’t be revealed until victory or failure.”

Roxanne let out a gracefully diabolical laugh, her gloved hand covering her grin, “I am a demoness. These little spices are nothing for my profile.”

“Yea, I know. You’re not eating the peppers,” they grab another bag, and then open it to reveal six pieces of white chocolate, with pink sparkly frosting and sprinkles covering them entirely. Roxanne frowned. She hates sweetness. And from the looks of things there’s not even a spec of that spicy cinnamon in sight.

“…You evil creature.”

“Hey, look who’s talking,” Quinn retorted, sliding the candies over to her.

“Count from three to one.”

The two competitors grabbed each of their respective foods, glaring at each other. The language of mischief was always a complicated one that few could master, but Quinn and Roxanne were fluent in it. And they both lived and breathed by mischief’s sacred tongue.

“Three…Two…One.”

They crunched on their punishments, not looking away from each other for a single second. The first part of these challenges was always the worst one, as they had to get used to the sensation their mouth would suffer for the next few minutes. For Quinn, it felt like they just took a big gulp out of the lava river next to them, but since they have also tasted bugs, feces of bugs, and grapes that had a literal otherworldly flavor, they were used to this. They kept mostly a straight face. Roxanne was having a bit harder of a time, but there was no way in the seven hells she’d be beaten by this child.

Eventually, the round passed, and they counted again before eating another. And another. And another.

They reached five before Roxanne couldn’t handle the sprinkles exploding sweetness into her mouth or the sugar granules being felt on her teeth, and she finally bowed her head and stole Quinn’s last pepper.

“…You have beaten me. Congratulations, rat.”

Roxanne didn’t sound happy about her loss, but Quinn couldn’t blame her. They just grabbed the last chocolate and popped it into their own mouth, kicking their legs like an innocent kid who never broke a rule in their life.

After they both recovered, Roxanne grabbed two drinks from a mini fridge that she gained from selling her enchantments. Yes, she finally was able to start getting her very unique venture off the ground; all without cheating or lying. She has turned over a new leaf, behavior wise at least, half of the customers she gains don’t really feel at ease at the sight of her lava river. The combination of demon and fire and brimstone was an unfortunate one for many. But at least the entrepreneur has a foundation now.

A gentle hiss came from underneath her chair, and a scaled face slithered over to lay its head on top of the table. The beady black eyes looked at Roxanne. Its forked tongue poked out. The sight made Quinn beam. On the inside, of course.

“How’s Ceras doing here? She sleeping okay?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your dusty little head. Cece is doing just fine; sleeps like an owlbear in hibernation, I’ll tell you,” Roxanne reached out her velvet covered palm, “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Slowly but surely, Ceras slithered up her arm, and eventually she managed to reach around her neck. The horned serpent rested her head on her owner’s shoulder.

A couple of weeks ago, Ceras was found by Roxanne when she saw her being soothed on Quinn’s lap via the window of the animal shelter. Her mother was abandoned when she was still pregnant with her eggs, but luckily the eggs were birthed and hatched safely in the animal shelter. Ceras was one of the smaller ones. Roxanne decided to foster, as she promised herself that she will be a better person after befriending Sylvia and Oswald. 

Foster, she said, Ceras will only be in the cellar for two weeks, she said. And then, after only one week, Ceras burrowed her tiny little being into Roxanne’s heart, and she decided to keep her.

Quinn suspected that even though the snake was still young, she’d probably grow seven feet long or more in a matter of months. But Roxanne didn’t mind; no matter what, Cece was still her little gem.

The fridge held four large daredevil pepper lemonades, which are surprisingly good. Quinn was surprised at how much they liked it when they first tried the stuff with her. They took a big sip from their bottle as Roxanne began opening her own, “So what was this favor that you tortured me to get, hmm?”

They put down their drink temporarily and bashfully looked away as they finally revealed the proposal, “I need…an outfit…”

Her eyes twinkled, “What kind? Perhaps…for a certain gala coming up? A gala the night before a certain frumpy witch’s birthday…?”

Roxanne had never expected Quinn and Sylvia to end up together, but now that their relationship is public, she always found ways to tease the two about their romance. Not in a mocking way, she genuinely adores them together, but she could never rob herself of a good tease, even if she was a better person now. Or trying to be, anyway.

Quinn flushed and hid their face, “Look- look don’t tell her, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh~ And what a surprise it will be,” Roxanne hummed as she pulled out her fuzzy sketchbook, clicking her matching pom-pom pen, “Any specifics? Any do’s or don’ts?”

“Put me in a dress and I will bite your throat out.”

Roxanne nodded calmly and began scribbling, “Noted. Anything else? Specific fits or fabrics?”

The commissioner thought for a moment, “…I want to be like the characters in…Hmph.”

A blush was still prominent on their face, and they very rarely made eye contact with Roxanne. Odd, she thought, they were usually so confident when it came with talking to her. Finally, they took a deep breath and blurted out a competent sentence.

“Do you know what type of movies Sylvia watches? Or her favorite childhood books?”

The question genuinely got the fashionista stumped. She put a finger underneath her dusty purple chin in thought, “I believe she’s been watching hero documentaries…? She doesn’t have a television but from the sounds of things she watches them from her tablet. I could never get a good grasp on what exactly she watches in her free time.”

Quinn nodded, “She does watch hero documentaries, and action movies sometimes. But sometimes she…” they rub their neck, “…she watches romcoms.”

At the news, Roxanne rolled her eyes, “Those unrealistic drivel? No wonder she’s too ashamed to watch it on the big screen.”

“That’s not the point. She likes them. And she also liked reading fairy tales as a kid.”

“Well, I suppose that does make sense. Sylvia is a real protagonist type, or at least she tries to be. Always helping people, always being the ‘bigger person.’”

“Not always. You see the way she decimated Robin?”

“Of course I saw! Do you think I’m that uncultured, Quinn?”

“Again, not the point. Point is Sylvia’s really into heroes and villains. Princes and princesses, dragons and castles and glass slippers and ancient swords, all that stuff. Not the ones in real life, either, more so the ones from back in the day. She doesn’t like to talk about it very much, though.”

Roxanne leaned forward, with Ceras poking her head out to copy her owner’s movements, “Go on…”

Quinn gulped before explaining further, “You know how there’s always a princess? Or some type of love interest at the end of those stories? A reward for the knight or whatever whatnot, right?”

“Yes…?”

“Well…Imagine Sylvia. Spunky, frumpy, as you call her, has been real into trying to make herself stronger lately so she can get hands on with collecting ingredients, y’know? Imagine her as the prince or knight in this hypothetical.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow, “Which makes you a-?”

“ Not a princess. Because again, put me in a dress and I’ll curse your entire bloodline. But…something along those lines…?”

Quinn’s locks covered their eyes as they shyly turned away once more, clutching their crystal ball, “Am I even making sense…?”

“It makes relative sense to me. You want to be the dazzling prize for Sylvia, hmm? For all her hard work?”

“Kind of…”

Roxanne began writing down stuff again in elegant cursive, “How sweet. Caring about what she likes.”

“Yea yea, real sweet,” Quinn replied before drinking more of their lemonade. The spice did help a little bit from the crippling embarrassment they just had to endure.

The fashion expert eventually finished her concept sketches and showed them to Quinn, who simply nodded. They looked a bit plain, like every other fairytale prince, but it’s what they asked for. It’s whatever.

Roxanne got up from her chair, petting her Cece as she did so, “Now I like all of these concepts, but I just need to figure out which enchantments and fabrics would fit you, which might take a bit. I imagine this is your first time commissioning an outfit of this scale?”

The client drinks the last of the lemonade and gets up themself, “I have pepper lemonade and insomnia on my side. We got all the time in the world.”

Roxanne formed a devilish smile, excited about this new venture, “Then let’s get started~”

Chapter Text

“Here’s your drink, Sylvia. The Primrose Special; double the rose and half the fruit. Anything else?”

“Nah, thanks Baptiste.”

Sylvia looked down at her drink; it was a work of art, frankly. She’s never seen a drink this elegant; all of the rose made the fruit and sugars and the foam on top stand out, making it a pink winter wonderland.

“And for you, Oswald. A mimosa, minus the orange juice replaced with root beer with a dash of vanilla ice cream on top.”

Oswald gave a kind smile, “Thank you, Baptiste. You truly are a miracle worker.”

Of course, the compliment caused the barkeep to chuckle, and Oswald began to sip on what was basically an alcoholic root beer float. Sylvia’s uncle never wanted to admit that, though.

Now that Oswald was back in his human form, the broad chested, long haired, fabulous mustached form, he was much more confident than the first few weeks Sylvia spent with him. Of course, he was still the same old Uncle Oswald when it came to work and talking with his niece in general, but when it came to talking with other people, especially to customers, he talked endlessly about the misadventures during those five weeks of the marketing competition. Like it was all a chapter in a legendary story.

While Sylvia was still getting used to being referred to as a part of Rafta’s history, she couldn’t help but feel proud that her uncle became the person she always remembered him as. As a child, his letters always described his stories about his potions shop and the monster filled island as a whole, and he made potionomics sound like the most exciting thing ever discovered. And Oswald turned out to be right, but in ways she didn’t at all expect.

Oswald looked a lot like his sister, which means he looked a lot like Sylvia, however the key difference was that he had these sparkling hazel eyes that she waited so long to finally see. They were no longer covered in stamps or his blurry finger in photos. It was nice to work with him full time; the real him.

Her uncle looked over at her after taking his first sip, his posture as straight as a tree, “Sylvia, are you prepared for the gala in the next few weeks? You did start brewing your potions, didn’t you? You also should get started on ordering your outfit, the postal service is still as awful as when I first arrived here.”

Sylvia sighed. There’s the owl she knew and loathed.

“I already did all those things, Oswald. No need to remind me five times,” she replied before finally sipping her beverage.

“I’m just being thorough, Sylvia,” he reasoned, raising a finger, “Starting tomorrow, we will have the most traffic Rafta has ever seen. And every single one of those tourists will be coming to us. Do you realize how huge that is? Not only for you and I, but for the entirety of the island?”

“Yea yea. No pressure or anything.”

Sylvia drank more, hoping to all that is magic that the alcohol will hit her soon. Baptiste noticed her stress and gave her a reassuring grin, “Ah, don’t worry, Sylvia. Your winning streak has yet to be topped. I mean, you have handled loan sharks and undead children-“

“Correction, one loan shark and one undead child. Huge difference,” the potion maker grumpily interrupted. Baptiste’s smile faltered.

Oswald leaned onto the bar, “I don’t mean to give you worry, I’m simply stating the truth. You have to be prepared for everything and anything.”

“I know, Uncle Oswald, I know.”

The young entrepreneur laid her head on the counter, and her uncle could tell that he hit a nerve. 

Actually being an uncle and taking care of Sylvia’s needs was…difficult, to say the least. He couldn’t hide behind a false form or humblebraggish letters or bad photos anymore. Oswald was by himself for so long that he doesn’t know a thing about being a responsible family figure; all he knows is how to be a colleague, an advisor. But sometimes his advice was less helpful and more so stress inducing. Oswald took a deep breath; okay, try again.

“Listen, I don’t mean to put so much pressure on you. I just know that you have what it takes to do this. To dominate this, Sylvia. And the last thing I want you to do is to think you don’t deserve the position you have so rightfully earned.”

Sylvia poked her head up from the counter to look at him. Okay, good, he was getting somewhere. 

“You’re a hard worker. We both know that. And yes, I know that running a shop can get exhausting and frustrating and…stress inducing.”

“ Incredibly stress inducing.”

“Yes yes, thank you. But you think it’s worth it in the end, don’t you, my niece?”

Sylvia looked up at the sky to ponder. She reminisced about when she first got to Rafta. The expenses, the competitions, the stress, and everything in between. It was hard. But then she thought about how utterly satisfying it was to make a customer happy, to create new and better potions that sell like hot cakes out the door. The look on her opponent’s faces as they wallowed in their defeat, the confetti falling into her hair and eyes as the crowd cheered. All the friends she’s made along the way; Mint, Baptiste, Roxanne, Corsac, Xid, Muktuk, Saffron, Luna, Salt & Pepper…

…Quinn.

“…Yea. Yea, it is worth it. All of it.”

Oswald nodded, his eyes softening, “Good. I feel the same way. We both can do whatever we put our minds to, my niece. Never forget that.”

Both of their drinks were completed in new time, and Oswald awkwardly wiped off all of the ice cream he licked off the cup before anyone could see. Before they could leave, Baptiste suddenly clapped his hands and trotted over to them, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is Quinn planning on going?”

They both stopped, and Sylvia felt her face heat up. She turned back to her friend, who had that trademark aloof beam on his face; a man of complete innocence. She sighed, “They said no, as of now. The gala isn’t until two weeks so maybe they’ll change their mind.”

“I see. I suspected as such,” Baptiste replied, eyes slightly downcast, “I just asked in case they needed something to wear. I do have connections to the best tailors on the continent, perhaps the world. Not that I’m bragging, er…is that bragging?”

“It’s sort of bragging, Baptiste.”

“Confound it all,” the noble grimaced at himself and then went back to the bar to clean up, “Well, if you or your special someone needs any assistance, I will be happy to provide. Have a most pleasant evening, Sylvia and Oswald.”

The family duo finally exited the guildhall bar.

Oswald couldn’t help but notice Sylvia nervously rubbing her face as they walked down the cobblestone street. He coughed awkwardly, “So…I take it you’re disappointed?”

Her green eyes widened, “W-What? No, I’m not disappointed. Why would I be? Quinn can do whatever they’re comfortable with.”

“Of course they can. But you’re still allowed to be disappointed. Not in Quinn, mind you, just in the situation,” Oswald explains as he gets back on his broom. After getting on her own broom, Sylvia put her hands on her hips.

“You know for a guy who I’ve never seen get a steady partner, you sure like to give a lot of advice about my dating life.”

“It’s not a flaw to be absorbed into work, Sylvia.”

“It is if you’re constantly pining for a whirlwind romance to sweep you off your feet. I mean, you read romances every night before you sleep-”

“I do not! ”

“Your trashy collection all over your bed says otherwise, Uncle Oswald!!”

The two went back and forth, teasing each other as they flew through the night sky.

—

In about an hour or two, Quinn had a gala made suit.

In the mirror, with Roxanne excitedly looking at her work, Cece wrapped around her arm, there was Quinn, in a suit-like fit. It was silver, to match their hair, and tons of purple and golden glitters adorned the entire thing. The customer’s hair was slicked back, and they felt like a slime died on top of their head. They looked at the mirror for a while. Took a spin. Tilted their head. Stood up as straight as they could.

“…Yea it’s good.”

Of course, Quinn expected Roxanne to excitedly clap her hands, proud of her accomplishment, and then send the witch on their merry way. However, her expression of anticipation quickly turned to confusion at the answer. “Good…? You think it’s simply ‘good?’”

“And that’s a bad thing…because?” Quinn asked, falling back into their shrimp posture.

Roxanne rested her head in her palm, “Well, a regalia like this should not only be dazzling to others, but to the wearer themself. A beautiful suit means nothing if the person doesn’t like what they’re wearing. You shouldn’t just think that this outfit is ‘good’, it should be ‘dazzling’, ‘wonderful’, ‘fabulous’, and every other moniker.”

“Okay, well, this outfit is fine. I don’t need you to make another one for me,” they said, the glitter on their suit already falling off and pooling onto the floor.

“But Quinn…” Roxanne looked down at them, her gentle eyes staring down at theirs. “…You don’t have to just settle. That’s not what’s fun about fashion. Your clothes show who you are as a person. I mean, I look at your everyday outfit and I see a person who is nonchalant, probably hasn’t showered in months, but who cares about accessorizing. Your hat is to die for, truly!”

Quinn was taken aback by that, “T-thanks…?”

Roxanne gasped and pointed at their face, “See? I know that look. You’re proud. You’re proud of that hat, and your eyes shone like a ruby and an amber as soon as I mentioned it.”

Quinn wished they had their hat right now so they could hide from her gaze.

The enchantress frowned, “That’s what I want out of you the night of the gala, my dear. You going through the motions is not truly what you want, and I’m sure that’s not what Sylvia wants either.”

“Yea, but…what are we going to do about it?”

“Well, let me ask you a simple question,” Roxanne smirked, leaning forward with her hands on her hips, “What do you think is beautiful?”

Quinn was once again stumped. They had an answer, multiple answers, immediately. But they had learned throughout their whole life that what they liked, what they thought gave this world wonder, other people thought of as curses.

Roxanne sat on one of her wooden crates, “It can be anything, raccoon. Don’t be afraid of what I think. That’s no way to live, you know.”

Quinn took a deep breath. Before finally answering, they scrubbed off that cursed gel from their hair. They couldn’t focus with mucus in their head.

“…I find mimics beautiful…”

Their newly wet hands clenched at their sides, Roxanne leaning forward in genuine intrigue. 

“…Animals in general, really. N-Not cute bunnies or squirrels, I hate squirrels. But just…creatures.”

“…Anything else?”

Quinn picked their head up, eyes finally facing Roxanne, before answering again, “…I find the past and future to be beautiful. People always run away from me whenever I tell them about their fortunes, or I tell them about a long dead relative. But it shows that…I dunno. It shows that they lived lives , I guess.”

“There you are…keep going.”

They nodded and did as requested, finding the process to be…oddly freeing, “I find the occult to be beautiful. The occult is basically my whole deal. Hells, I barely feel human half the time. Never normal. I feel…I feel like a walking, talking anomaly. My whole life has been like that.”

“…I see.”

Throughout the entire time Quinn was letting out their deepest passions, Roxanne was writing buzzwords down on her paper. ‘Occult’, ‘Mimic’, ‘Past’, ‘Future’. As she was writing down, the clairvoyant felt compelled to tell her something important.

Something that they have seen their entire life. The secret world they saw whenever licking that monocle as a child… even now they do it when nervous. They’re almost never that nervous nowadays, so they rarely get the chance to see that little dimension anymore. But…they have to say something, right? Those visions can’t just be in their head. It can’t just be a dream. It can’t be.

But…would Roxanne understand? Would Sylvia understand?

“…Roxanne. Can I show you something?”

The demoness looked up, the brim of her witch hat revealing her attentive expression, “Of course…?”

“…Tell anyone about this and you’ll freeze to death in the morrow.”

With that comforting threat out of the way, Quinn began gently suckling on their monocle. The familiar metallic taste hit their senses immediately. It was disgusting, objectively, but it felt the most like home out of anything in this world. They closed their eyes and clutched their crystal ball. Their senses diminished one by one. First sight, then sound, then scent, then touch. But the taste never left their mouth.

And then…the world was swathed with violet and magenta.

Quinn gasped, opened their eyes, and saw home.

Once again, dancers crossed their vision. It was a party on the street, instead of a formal performance. Everyone was smiling, the fabric underneath their hats swaying and making them look like spirits in the best possible way. They twirled, they flipped, they stretched, but all for the joy of themselves, and not for an audience. The people were all one, they were all celebrating life.

The last thing they saw before returning to the present world, was the mystery man’s hands clapping along to the music.

Quinn shook their head, waking themselves up.

“…What did you see?”

“…I saw beauty.”

The clairvoyant went over to her notebook and unceremoniously ripped out a page, to which Roxanne made a slight sound of protest that they ignored. They scribbled as best they could until finally they looked back at what they drew.

It was…it was something. A figure, for sure. It had fabric on, maybe, with sheets sprouting from their head, but it looked more like a jellyfish than human. Roxanne looked down at it, “Wow…so you find the grotesque genocide of art beautiful. That’s lovely, Quinn.”

“…Thanks,” they grumbled.

Roxanne bit her lip, “But in all seriousness, dear, I can help you as much as I can. Enchantments can do wonders. And coins can do even more.”

“Yea, but it doesn’t matter. Even if I had all the money in the world, no one can understand what I see. As far as I know the people and the life I experience doesn’t even exist anywhere,” they lower their head in defeat, gently holding their crystal.

“Now, don’t give up so easily. You’re not a quitter, aren’t you?”

“No, but I know when to cut my losses.”

Roxanne huffed and rolled her eyes, “Well fine. You can wear that boring, plain, ‘good’ suit. I guess all of my enchantments and fabulousness can’t help out here.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Roxanne. It won’t work,” Quinn stated, staring daggers at her.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Quinn. I’m simply respecting your decision to be a commoner,” she nonchalantly swished her tail and stroked her horns. Cece also lowered her head to give off an air of disappointment; like mother, like daughter.

The heterochromatic eyes were still narrowed. It won’t work. It won’t work.

The demon turned back to them, “…I have a theory, little raccoon. Will you indulge me in my thoughts before you leave at the very least?”

Two pouty faces looked at Quinn, and they let out a low sigh. “…Fine.”

Roxanne and Ceras immediately perked up as if nothing was amiss and excitedly flipped through the notebook, “Now, you know the story of Cinderella, yes?”

“Who doesn’t…?” Quinn was concerned immediately. 

“Well, the moment where the tree or the godmother or bird or whoever gives her the dress, turning her rags into a showstopper, it reminds me of glamors. Now, of course anyone can create an illusion of clothing, but none could actually feel the facade on their skin,” she turned to a page where various elixirs were sketched and written. Mana, Stamina, Sight, and Insight.

Quinn crossed their arms, “And…?”

“My theory is that if I gain these potions, the mana to enhance my power, insight to make my vision clearer, you know; I may be able to make your dreams come true.” Roxanne let out an excitedly devious laugh, “I will be your fairy godmother!”

“I’d rather you be my next murder victim.”

“Quinn, dearie, don’t jest. I’m serious,” Roxanne got up and showed them more of her writings. The uncultured one couldn’t read cursive to save their hide, but the drawings she did were at least legible. Figures of a person in rags, then the various potions aiding enchantment magic, and then the person in a voluminous dress. The glamor expert looked at them expectantly. “I know that you know I have at least half of an idea. Could you imagine! The customers, the fame, the gold! I could build an empire; a legit one, this time. Mostly. I’ve wanted to test it out for a while now, and you are a perfect candidate.”

“Why? Because I’m an ugly duckling in need of fixing?” Quinn snapped.

“No, because you’re a lovely duckling in need of a confidence boost. I mean, my stars, I’ve never seen hair so naturally platinum before!” The compliment was genuine, and the platinum haired one in question felt their fingers twiddling nervously around a loose strand.

Roxanne pushed up her glasses, “I can tell you’re not used to gaining compliments.”

“Oh, ya think? I suppose you can tell I’m exhausted, too.”

The woman let out a sigh, and she ripped out the pieces of paper to give to Quinn. “Apologies for taking so much of your time. Just do me a favor and think about it, alright? Sylvia should be home any minute now, anyway.”

“…Right,” The shy one nodded and left without saying goodbye.

They got back to the sky and saw Sylvia and Oswald return home from underneath them. The family was arguing about something, again, but it was more playful than anything else. Roxanne greeted them, and they all went inside to turn in for the night.

Quinn let out a frustrated exhale as they landed on their back. Their back pocket had the pages, which caused them to crumple and make noise that really wasn’t helping Quinn’s mood. They pulled out the papers and tiredly glanced at them.

The drawings, the descriptions, and the passion. The keys of a brand new innovation were all here…in theory.

It was certainly possible before, what with Cinderella being one of the oldest and most popular legends of all time, but no one has ever done it since. Well, they tried, just with minimal success. Roxanne was the most capable enchantress they have ever known. But it was all illusion, not reality, and they don’t know how fancy potions can make them any less than falsehoods.

Only…Quinn has never really heard of a clairvoyant and an enchanter team up before. To be fair, it was because clairvoyants were a rarity in and of themselves, but no legend or history book told of glamor and telemetry uniting. It could be groundbreaking. It could be deadly. It could be beautiful.

…Maybe Roxanne had a point. Maybe Quinn was a bit too harsh on her. And yea… maybe trying to recreate the fairytale in order to achieve their dreams wasn’t the worst idea.

…But first, Quinn needed this damn suit off before the glitter suffocates them in their sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, after Quinn generously donated the suit to a dumpster, they went back to Roxanne’s right after Sylvia was done with her morning shift. The psychic apologized, both with words and a couple hundred coins, and they both agreed that they would try and experiment.

Quinn gave the ideas, and Roxanne did all the magic crap. The first step was to get the potions from Sylvia; of course she wouldn’t expect none the wiser since she expects them to get their potions from her, whether for exploring Rafta, experimentation, or otherwise. They got the potions they needed in no time, and they both know that they were the best in the game. The trouble came from the experiments themselves.

Mana and Stamina only caused Roxanne to have so much energy she not only did an unconvincing illusion on Quinn, but then she wanted to glamor absolutely everything in her abode, and the entire place went from a rainy oasis to a sky palace to an underwater ruin. While impressive, not what they were looking for. Then, they tried Mana and Insight, but that only worked for her dream outfit for the gala. Quinn was put in a dress. It did not end well.

Even after two weeks of all this experimentation, angst, and destruction, Roxanne’s room was still scratched up and destroyed from Quinn’s spat. Quite dramatic from an outside view, but Roxanne understood Quinn well, and that she deserved this. Might as well, anyway, she would move on from this place soon enough.

They were getting closer to their goal, the more Quinn cooperated and loosened up in front of Roxanne, the more they were able to get closer to their vision. Close, but no cigar. The outfit would never be convincing nor accurate enough for Quinn’s or Roxanne’s standards.

Now it was the night of the gala, and they had one last experiment to try.

Quinn nervously looked back at the mirror in front of them, which was slightly shattered now. They sighed, “…I hope this works. If it doesn’t I’ll send Boxer to attack you this time.”

Roxanne grabbed the potions that were the most successful, Mana, Insight, and Dowsing.

“Well, that is assuming that your theory works. The theory that you refuse to tell me about,” she huffed.

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. I also didn’t want to hype it up too much in case it ends in disaster,” Quinn explained as they turned to their helper. 

Roxanne gave a pet to Ceras, who grew at least four inches these past weeks, and then she strutted over to them. She was already in her gala-made attire, which was a strapless slim dress entirely made out of black silk, with gold detailing along the breast line as well as the single slit on the right side that went all the way up to her thighs. Of course, her hat had to match that level of elegance, so it was a gold piece, complete with a large rose decal.

“This plan doesn’t involve any messes, does it? Do you know how much this dress costs? You wouldn’t believe how many men I had to manipulate for this.”

Quinn was still in their usual clothing, the entire tattered ensemble. They really hoped that this plan of theirs would work, because not only would all of their time and money be wasted, but they wouldn’t be able to support Sylvia in what was probably the second biggest event in her life. She would have to face it alone…her partner couldn’t bear it.

“…I want you to cast the spell on my crystal ball.”

Roxanne raised a brow, “On the crystal ball…?”

“Yes, that’s what I said. Now do it.”

“N-Now hold on there, little goblin, why would I need to cast the spell on the crystal ball and not you?” Roxanne asked, giving a skeptical look.

Quinn let out a huff before explaining, “The crystal ball is more than just a pretty little toy. It is part of a clairvoyant's magic, part of their soul, part of their mind. All of my abilities are tied to my crystal ball. So maybe if you cast the spell on this instead of my person, it would…” Quinn cringed.

“It would…what, Quinn? Don’t be shy with me now.”

They soon enough swallowed and let in a deep breath, “…It would…make my dreams come true.”

Quinn let out ragged coughs immediately after they said that; the very phrase making them sick.

Roxanne let out a chuckle, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Just shut up and do it. Sylvia could be back at any minute.”

The potion seller had to do some last minute check-ins with her various ingredient sources, all while she was in the dress for tonight’s event. Quinn and Sylvia hadn’t seen each other much lately, mostly because she was so busy with all of the new business arriving at her doorstep. Even when she could spare time to hang out with Quinn, it was short lived, and usually just involved getting more ingredients, or picking up the elixirs required for the experiment.

That was fine for the moment, they were busy planning the surprise. But there was a pit in their stomach that formed once they were separated for that long of a time. Quinn missed Sylvia; they missed her eyes, her smile, her flailing and crying.

They just hoped that this would all be worth it in the end. If not…what were they to her, anyway?

Quinn shakily held out their crystal ball, as if they were handing out their own heart for Roxanne to experiment with. They gulped and looked away, “Do your worst…”

Roxanne collected the elixirs and popped them open, slowly sipping them and making sure not a single drop got on her gown. Soon enough, all of the glass bottles were ripped of their splendor, and she rolled her wrists and tail in preparation. Dark magic sparked to life in her palms as she went to the outstretched crystal.

“If you do die from this…Dasvidaniya, Quinn.”

At those reassuring words, she pressed her hands against the orb.

The orb’s owner couldn’t help but look, and they saw magenta, plum, and void all clashing together. It seemed like a black hole has appeared before them. But they stayed calm, even if they were to die it would’ve been quite an epic way to go out. It was just colors for a while, but then they felt something. Something in their mind was brought forth.

Darkness. They were surrounded by darkness.

It was only Quinn and their crystal ball.

However, the crystal was radiating with energy, a type that Quinn has never seen before. Not even when they got those buffs from Sylvia did they ever see their sphere this…this bursting with color.

Suddenly, the magic sprouted out, and then the people from their secret little paradise came to life. The dancers. There were two, then four, then eight, then sixteen, and soon Quinn was surrounded by them. This should’ve terrified them, a group of spirits birthed from an experiment made from a demon and a clairvoyant. But…it was everything they could ever want. Their people were standing before them.

The people danced around them like ghosts, weaving to and fro, floating in the void. They circled around Quinn faster and faster, their fabrics melded into smoke, until finally a tornado formed around them. Swaths of violet, black, and gold covered their entire vision. Quinn was the cyclone, and they embraced their occult storm.

“…Quinn! Quinn, wake up! You better not be dead right now, I swear to you-! ”

“Ugh…I’m up, I’m up, shut it,” they groggily stated. Quinn gave Roxanne a wave of their hand and used the other to hold their throbbing face. Only…there was a strange weight. Like fabric. Like a large waterfall of silk.

Quinn opened their eyes. In front of them was something they never thought they could ever describe into words.

It was certainly still them, make no mistake, but they were…beautiful. 

Finally.

The cracked mirror showed Quinn that they were wearing exactly what they pictured. Their billowing plum sleeves were long and spread like a griffin’s wings when they stretched, and on their chest was a dipping crevice that revealed a breathable black mesh underneath. The black spread into ribbons that wrapped around the tips of their fingers and the soles of their feet. Their trousers were also billowed, and they were pinched by fabric bands at their ankles. But, without a doubt, the thing that stood out the most was their hat; a dome that cascaded down long sheets of transparent violet, which was detailed with a dark gold. At the very front of Quinn’s face was the shortest sheet, one that reached their nose and was with one golden eye delicately painted on.

It…It couldn’t be real. Quinn had to be dead.

“Quinn…Quinn you brilliant little rodent, it worked!”

They turned to Roxanne’s voice, and they felt their hat moving along with them, the pressure on their head and the wind the fabric created. It was real. As real as can be.

Quinn was completely speechless. What…what could they possibly say? Their dreams came true. They never thought they were meant to come true.

They saw the taller woman nearly get teary eyed and reach her arms out, “You look truly magnificent-!”

“Touch me and you will be in a kraken’s maw,” they said, backing away from her. The newly clad person let out a nervous cough, floating their completely unharmed crystal ball back to them. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Quinn looked back up at their apparent savior, “But the point still stands, don’t touch any part of this.”

“Sylvia has to see you in this, my guinea pig! Can you imagine all of the tears she will expel once she sees you?”

“A concerning amount,” Quinn replied. They should know; they have seen how hard Sylvia cries when she’s watching baby animals being born at the shelter or rewatching her favorite childhood films for the 187th time. Oddly, she cries more when she’s happy than when she’s stressed.

So…Sylvia might actually dehydrate when she sees Quinn as her plus one.

Footsteps were suddenly heard above them. Speak of the angel.

“…Roxanne? Did the basement blow up while I was gone?”

Quinn’s heart leapt to their throat.

Roxanne grinned and cupped a hand near her mouth to reply! “Oh, no no, completely nuke free. But there’s something I’d like you to see, dear. Free of charge.” She had nothing but pure giddiness in her voice.

“Free of charge?” The trap door opened and the ladder shot down, “Why, it isn’t a hex, is it?”

Sylvia scooted down the ladder and, even though their outfit was literally made out of Cinderella magic, Quinn still felt underdressed compared to her.

The redhead’s dress was not nearly as complicated as Quinn’s outfit, or even Roxanne’s, but it was still absolutely stunning on her. It was a dusty yellow mermaid dress, and even from first glance it looked like it was well loved. It hugged her waist and hips, sure, however when it loosely flowed from her hips to create a small pool at her feet. It was all held together by a choker around her neck, which led the eye down to her completely bare arms and back. It was clearly some kind of hand me down, or something she wore a lot in the past. There were slight repairing stitches here and there, and in general the fabric didn’t flow as well as it would have if it was brand new. But it was Sylvia’s. It looked like her. Smelled like her.

Her feet landed onto the stone basement floor, and Quinn could swear that the world started to slow down. Of course…of course Sylvia will always find a way to one up them. 

Her dumb dress. Stupid hair. Idiotic eyes. Foolish face. Her beautifully foolish face.

Quinn doesn’t deserve to be here. They should just go and pretend this never-

“Q-Quinn…?”

The world resumed. Sylvia was staring right at Quinn; they couldn’t really tell if they loved or hated the way she looked at them. It was complete and utter awe, they’ve never seen her eyes sparkle like that. The reflection in her green irises showed violet starlight. Her mouth was nearly agape, as if she just stumbled upon a moon that fell from the sky, or a painting that struck her soul just right. Believing that Quinn was the one she was staring at, the one she absolutely idolized…it filled them with emotion indescribable.

Was it pride? Fear? Embarrassment? If it was either one of those…why did it feel so good…?

“… Quinn! ” Sylvia rushed over to her partner and gave them a gentle embrace. Her head had to tuck under the rim of the hat, meaning her face was extremely close to theirs. Their noses touched each other. A nervous chuckle escaped her subtly painted lips.

Love, Quinn thought, so this is what love feels like…

“…Hey.”

“Wh…’Hey’? That’s all you have to say to me? You wanna explain what you’ve been up to while I’m gone?”

“You wanna get out of my face first, blightroach?”

Sylvia laughed, “Okay, you beautiful brat,” then she left the shade of the hat, but not before giving Quinn a peck on the lips. Thank the occult that they finally had a shield suitable enough to hide their blush.

The yellow-dressed woman stood back and crossed her arms, “Now talk.”

Quinn and Roxanne explained the entire process, the potions, the trial and error, the massacre of the basement, and what led to the final product. Sylvia listened attentively, while Roxanne went to find emergency accessories for her. She settled on plum ballroom gloves and a matching ribbon in her hair, which the enchantress also took the liberty to put into a high bun. While the horned one began tailoring the gloves to fit Sylvia, the latter asked one more question.

“But…why? I thought you said you didn’t want to go. You literally gave me a whole list of reasons why you wouldn’t come.”

“Well that was because I was being dumb,” they mumbled before getting closer to her. They averted their unique eyes, as they always happened to do when talking about things related to their emotions. Big dumb emotions. 

“But then I realized I was being dumb and…and how important this whole thing was to your reputation. But I guess…it’s not just your reputation anymore, yea? It’s all of Rafta’s too.”

Sylvia hung her head before giving a small nod. The pitiful sight just compelled Quinn to speak more, if only to ignore the small pit of guilt forming. “Ugh…bad choice of words. What I mean to say is…partners are supposed to support each other, right? They’re supposed to, y’know…not leave each other hanging. Especially in crowded places where everybody is watching you…”

Quinn was left hanging, many times. By people they thought loved them.

“…and I’ll be damned if  I’m going to let you be there alone tonight.”

Sylvia watched them with a stunned expression. Quinn gulped, but trudged on. “What I mean to say is I…I appreciate you, Sylvia. I don’t hate you. And I treat the people I don’t hate with respect. Especially since we’re, y’know…dating. I just want to be there for you, like…like you are for me.”

“Oh…Oh Quinn,” Sylvia approached Quinn. She adjusted the newly tailored gloves to her arms while Roxanne was using a lint remover to get rid of any other imperfections on the gown. “You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Dating doesn’t mean that you have to make sacrifices for me in the detriment of your own wellbeing. And I-“

“Sylvia,” their hand reached out towards hers, to which she squeezed immediately, “With all due respect, I’m going, whether you like it or not. I’ve spent too much gold and too many restless nights stop now. Plus…”

Quinn gently got on their tiptoes to reach Sylvia’s ears, “Be honest…I look good in this, right? Like…the hot type of good?”

Sylvia let out a bashful giggle that she covered with her hands, “Yea, yea of course you do. Though to be fair you look hot every day.”

“S-Shut up!” Quinn lowered their head down and rubbed their arm, “One more word out of your mouth and I’m telling Boxer to tear this entire thing apart in front of your eyes. You’ll be an accessory to murder.”

“The murder of…clothes? Magic clothes?”

“Yea. Heard that’s a heavy sentence-“

Roxanne rolled her jade eyes, “If you two don’t stop with this mediocre banter right now we’ll never leave this basement.” 

The couple agreed and then made their way outside, with Sylvia going first. For Quinn it was a little hard to get out due to the size of their biggest accessory, however with Sylvia’s help, they manage to escape the confines of the lava ridden chambers. Roxanne quickly followed suit, giving Cece a big kiss goodbye before she did so.

The moon was rising steadily, and in the far distance the stadium was lit up with colorful lights. The gala wasn’t supposed to officially start yet, however, as Sylvia learned from Baptiste, those who aren’t at least thirty minutes early might as well be a no show, as well as be a joke at the next rich get together. 

Roxanne locked the door behind her. The potions champion looked to her love, who under the moonlight looked like a glowing angel; a cryptic, snarky, probably more accurate angel.

“You ready, babe?”

Quinn nodded, wrapping an arm around Sylvia’s, the warmth of her body only making their resolve and confidence more powerful. Through the golden eye, they grinned at her. 

“Let’s do it, blightroach.”

Chapter Text

Oswald never thought he’d spend his night taking care of a horned serpent. Well, it certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing he’s ever done. That whole transmogrification fiasco took the cake when it came to that. However, in a matter of minutes, the conditions Roxanne has set changed. Not only did he have to take care of Cece, but he also had to take care of Boxer, that bloodthirsty mimic that belonged to Quinn.

The mimic in question was sleeping on the potion counters. His gigantic maw was hanging open, the snores managing to rattle some of the potions on the display shelves. Now, the pet sitter would test fate and try to get the deadly animal off of his expensive furniture. However, he’d rather not get dismembered before Sylvia’s birthday. It would be rather inconvenient. And traumatizing. For everyone.

Not to mention the two temporary pets, Oswald also had to take care of the quintet of slimes from the Corsac fellow (rather useful for duplicating ingredients, but are also extremely gluttonous), and the other mimic; Vendi. Vendi was permanently outside, mostly because of her being the size of a king bed. One day Quinn just dropped her off, and while she did indeed give a few needed extra coins from selling off potions at a fixed price, she was also quite the responsibility. Now that the expert brewer was human again, he could take care of Vendi’s very specific and very unnerving requirements with ease; starting with feeding her ratmoth corpses.

When Vendi was done with her meal, she let out a deep croon and rubbed her rectangular body on Oswald’s hand. And, even if he feared being trapped in that thing’s maw every day of his life, he couldn’t help but form a small grin. Damn it all, mimics are quite affectionate once you get to know them, and remember to feed them every day.

Oswald never skipped a day. Yet. He’d rather not think of the consequences if he did.

All of the animals were taken care of, and the reluctant caretaker took a sigh of relief as he went back into the potions shop. Now that Sylvia and Roxanne are out of the shop, no one can tease him for his very specific tastes in reading material. Though…Boxer might. Something about that creature makes Oswald think he’s much smarter than he appears.

Nevertheless, the man grabs a small novella from the bookshelf and settles himself on that familiar busted chair. Sylvia once slept on this during her first weeks of entreprenuership, and sometimes she still does when she has a particularly busy night. But now, thanks to Saffron, she got a bed. It was a pull out bed, underneath the back counter, but it was indeed a bed.

Despite the chair’s questionable stability, Oswald still liked to read on this chair from time to time. He needed to get a new one, there were so many atrocities that have burrowed into the seat’s crevices that it’s charms would forever be tarnished, however, he has had this chair for years, since his first days in Rafta, so it had a special place in his old heart.

From where Oswald sat, through the highest and biggest window at the top of the shop’s back wall, he could very easily see the colosseum's lights in the far distance; it practically shined throughout the whole city. He sighed; he hoped his niece was okay without him.

Oswald wanted to go, so very badly. He wanted to be there for Sylvia. But, Sylvia and Roxanne trusted him with taking care of the pets while they were away. He had to face it; no pet sitter in Rafta was willing to take care of a horned serpent, a mimic, and five constantly hungry slimes. At least, not without a hefty price.

But…Sylvia and Oswald were on good terms, he thought. He no longer had to prove that he truly cared for her anymore; their adventures together were proof enough. He wanted to keep his promise to her, to always support her and never hide when things got hard again. But, he was given a duty, and he will fulfill it.

Even though mimic breath apparently stunk for miles and miles.

—

The gala was both everything that Quinn expected, and yet not what they expected at all. It was kind of odd to say, but they thought that it would be filled with thousands of clones of rich white human men, maybe a woman or a satyr or two to spice things up. However, it wasn’t like that at all.

Quite literally, almost everyone in the city was there. The colosseum entrances were open to everyone, and the very first floor was filled with villagers. It felt less like a ball funded by the city, and more like a gigantic get together where neighbors caught up on where their lives took them. It was refreshing.

Now, there were the rich people Quinn assumed would be here, mostly up in the levels where the seats would normally be. They were all removed, it seemed, to make space, and now it was mostly taken up by the socialites and politicians this whole event was meant to attract. 

There was also an entire concerto, surprisingly. The musicians were all up in the sky, playing their instruments on their very elaborate brooms that were built specifically to hold their instruments, somehow even including a piano player into the fray. It was by far the most impressive thing Quinn has seen in this venue. They felt their girlfriend give their hand a tug. Well, second most impressive.

Sylvia scanned the stadium, as they were in the entranceway about to head into the fray. Roxanne was already on the lower floor, talking to the people there. From the couple’s view, she seems to be genuinely enjoying herself conversing with the socialites, even though most decided to not go near her. 

The woman of the hour looked down at her partner, her face exposing pure adoration. “They’re going to love you.”

Quinn couldn’t help but let out a scoff, “Of course you’d say that. You have rose-colored glasses.”

“I just like what I see. A lot,” Sylvia flirted, her eyebrows raised and her eyelids half closed. Quinn flushed; they hated the fact that her sultry look worked on them. Every single time.

“But seriously,” Sylvia squeezed Quinn’s hand, “They just need to get to know you. Underneath all that dirt, grime, and…very questionable diet, you are a really intelligent and caring person.”

“…I’ll try my best.”

Quinn had to be the best. For her.

“You don’t have to try as hard as you think you do. Just be yourself, maybe don’t insult the upper class every fifty seconds, and you’ll be golden,” she leaned down to give a gentle kiss on Quinn’s forehead. The lovers took deep breaths and then walked into the light of the ball.

All of the chattering from the partygoers snuffed out like a candle as soon as they set their eyes on the two. Everyone was still. But they weren’t staring at Sylvia; not really.

Quinn could feel eyes surrounding their entire being. They felt…alien. An anomaly. It was like normal but, somehow, both ten times better and a million times worse.

They felt wonderful, probably more so than they’ve felt in years, but there were just…so many eyes; so many people judging them.

Was Quinn overshadowing Sylvia? Was Quinn so hideous that Sylvia looked like a fool beside them? What were they doing here?

They felt another squeeze on their hand. Back to reality.

Quinn turned to their partner, who looked at them with a concerned look. She mouthed the words ‘you okay?’

They nodded, though it took a few seconds too long. The woman’s green eyes softened before she reached for their other hand, gently rubbing her thumbs over their knuckles. Quinn just kept staring at Sylvia. They took more breaths.

Sylvia was the only person that mattered. In this gala, and perhaps the world.

“Sylvia!” A flamboyant voice called from the void of silence, and Baptiste wandered to them, in an outfit that surely was passed down from his long line of lords and ladies. Quinn could tell from the dead old moth stench.

“Oh my goodness gracious, Sylvia, you look lovely. ‘Sunflower’ really compliments your eyes.”

The noble was always of the friendly sort…but perhaps this time he was too friendly. Quinn clenched their palms discreetly. Don’t hiss, don’t hiss, don’t hiss-

Baptiste turned his head to Sylvia’s plus one and the purple practically reflected on his wonder-filled eyes. “My oh my, Quinn! Not only did you surprise us with your presence, but…these clothes. That…That hat! ”

Quinn shakily bowed their head, mostly to hide their shaking body and averting eyes, “T-Thanks…” The decorations surrounding them covered their face enough to where they didn't have to worry about hiding their embarrassed fidgets, which was a humongous relief. It is hard to have an air of indifference when you are literally the center of attention.

“Dare I say, you two might be the greatest power couple of the century,” Baptiste complimented, pulling out a rose out of gods know where.

“That’s…kind of a high bar,” Quinn muttered. Sylvia went beside them and continued in their stead, “But, thank you for the compliment, Baptiste. How’s the party going so far?”

“Splendidly! I’ve never seen so many villagers in the same room as nobles. And they’re acknowledging each other, talking even!” Baptiste used an open hand to showcase the crowd. As he said, there were indeed folks of different classes conversing, having drinks, complimenting each other’s outfits. They looked comfortable. They were existing.

Even with the surreal sight, Quinn couldn’t egg away the feeling of being looked at; and then they looked up. Sure enough, there was a sea of high collared people looking down at the witch, in both ways. Some scoffed, some frowned, some just chose to look away. It was almost terrifying how similar they all were; like clones.

Baptiste followed their gaze and tsked, “Don’t mind them. Those, I’m afraid, are some of the rotten apples, so to speak.”

Quinn averted their eyes away from them. For once, Baptiste was right, those people weren’t worth their time. But…

“…Are those rotten apples important? Like, are they the ones that are supposed to help support Rafta; help raise its ‘political intrigue’ or whatever?”

The indigo-haired noble moved his brown eyes to the ground, “Some aren’t…but most of the funders aren’t that judgemental. Don’t worry your head about that.”

Quinn spared a look for Sylvia, and they opened their mouth to speak.

“Sylvia. Welcome.”

The air around them suddenly grew cold, and a lavender-haired woman approached Sylvia. The new witch wore a silk blouse paired with a jet black pencil skirt with a silver cloud pattern adoring the piece. The hat that she wore was so stiff that it looked more like it was made of metal rather than fabric. Quinn felt goosebumps consume them due to the temperature change, but Sylvia walked toward her with a kind smile. “Helene; it’s good to see you. When you’re not manipulating my soul, anyway.”

They shook hands, and Quinn recognized the stranger. Helene, the woman who made Sylvia go through the five trials in the first place. From Sylvia’s account, she was some type of lawyer, or financial enforcer, who binded Sylvia’s soul to the deed that Oswald left her. Of course, the loan got paid and the debtor's soul is free, for now, and Helene didn’t approach her anymore. 

Now that Quinn could see Helene in person, they could definitely see why she would be terrifying at first glance; she had this chilling air about her, quite literally. But Quinn just couldn’t bring themselves to hate her, at least right away, and the ability to manipulate life essences was pretty awesome, objectively.

Sylvia went back to her partner, “Quinn, this is Helene, soul-binding debt collector extraordinaire.” The one mentioned nodded and gave the slightest hint of a grin. “Helene, this is Quinn, ingredient vendor, telemetry clairvoyant, mimic whisperer, and my significant other.”

All of the words spilled out of her mouth like the fountain of youth. It made Quinn’s skin grow arm, their back straighten, and their heart flutter in ways that no other person, no other thing, could make it do.

Helene brought her gaze to Quinn, and bowed her head, “It’s nice to meet you, Quinn. I’ve heard about you.”

“…From who?”

“From quite a lot of people, actually,” Helene replied, her gaze unyielding. Quinn couldn’t read her, but they had a feeling that she heard about them from either some customers coming to her quivering in fear of the bleak futures they’ve been told by them, or from the people who just so happened to witness their many, many, many crimes around Rafta.

Either or, Quinn felt even more unease.

Luckily, the soul witch averted her icy eyes away from them and to the potion seller, “We have much to discuss this evening. We best be going, Sylvia.”

“Right…” she sighed. Sylvia gently squeezed Quinn’s hand, “I have to go. Gotta discuss political mumbo jumbo with the big heads. I doubt you want to join me for all that.”

The shorter one felt a twinge, “I…You’re right. But are you gonna be okay? Without me…?”

“I mean, I’ll miss you, obviously. And it’s not that I’m embarrassed by you, it’s just that I don’t know if being stuck in a place with a bunch of snobs would be much fun for you. Besides, it won’t be too long, just an hour or two at most,” at the estimate of time, she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Pray for me.”

“You know I don’t have the rights to that,” Quinn quipped.

The comment caused Sylvia to go from irritation to joy, and through her laughter, she gave a quick kiss to Quinn’s lips. She gazed down at them.

“Baptiste, take care of them for me while I’m gone, yea?”

“You have my word, Sylvia,” Baptise proclaimed with a bow, reminding Quinn that he was still there.

“Do I really need a babysitter?”

“Wha- no. No no no. Not at all…” Sylvia put her hands behind her back and bit her cheek. Quinn tightened their lips, “Baptiste is the babysitter, isn’t he?”

“Not a babysitter! More like…like a coach on…how to handle large crowds…Yea!”

“Sylvia, you lie like a damn lamppost.”

“Okay, gotta go, love ya babe! Mwah mwah!”

Before Quinn could argue any more, Sylvia was gently pulled away by Helene, and once they were both gone, the sparkling one suddenly felt more alone. Baptiste gave Quinn some sort of beverage while holding one of his own, “Here you are, Quinn. A virgin rum on the rocks with a caramel fizzy drink and a mint garnish.”

While they were attempting to process what exactly Baptiste just said, they took a sip. It was nice; they didn’t like how the ice made their hands cold as they held the glass, but it’s pretty good tasting overall. Quinn tasted the drink again. What kind of visions could they get out of this…?

No vision this time. Instead a chipper voice rang to their right.

“Oh my stars, Quinn?! Is that you?!”

Ah yes. The twit.

Mint excitedly charged through the crowd of party goers and went up to Quinn, making a high pitched noise in delight once she got way too far into their personal bubble. She wore a fairly simple attire, just a juniper green vest over a button up and matching slacks. The adventurer also had her curly hair slicked back, but some rebel curls still escaped here or there. She was an annoying person to deal with alone, but then Quinn heard another one speak out.

“OMG! Is that Quinn; the ingredient vendor?! I didn’t know you were such a trendsetter!”

Faster than Quinn can even comprehend, a moth-like woman was suddenly next to them and chatting their ear off. “I can help you with marketing, you know, I’ve handled way worse cases of cancellation than yours. I mean some bad actors straight up lie about being clairvoyant just to get some coin, can you believe that? Anyway, I LOVE your outfit, where did you get it? Is there a tailor that you went to where I can go to? I’ve only got time to go in my everyday clothes, I just DIY’d this tie. It’s pretty cute but took thirty minutes which is WAY too much time to-“

The introvert was suddenly surrounded by obnoxiousness. Quinn wanted to say so many bad things, so badly, but they clenched the fabric of their pants and noticed Baptiste behind the two women. He was motioning at Quinn to look over to what he was holding in his hands; a tablet, with a slideshow on what to say. Of course, it looked like some sort of amalgamated mess to them, but they supposed something was better than nothing.

Maybe they did need a babysitter after all.

Quinn took a deep breath and finally repeated what the tablet said.

“Thank you…for the queers- queers? Queries. Thank you for the queries.”

Another slide. Fantastic.

“I will…answer…? I will answer them one…at…a time.”

Mint raised an eyebrow and looked behind her, only to find Baptiste sipping his drink, completely aloof. The two ladies looked back at Quinn, and the moth was the one who spoke first, surprising no one.

“My name’s Luna, I work for Sylvia and Oswald advertising their potion shop. I have a load of questions but you said one and a time, I’ll respect that. The most important out of all my questions is, where did you get that outfit? It seems familiar to me, but I can’t for the life of me remember where I’ve seen it from.”

Familiar? How would it be familiar to her? That’s a question for another time, Quinn supposed. They freed their trousers from their hands and replied, “I commissioned Roxanne, the enchantress, to pull some strings for me. How she did it, well, you’ll have to ask her.” They smirked, looking back on those crazy weeks experimenting with the demoness. Roxanne deserved to have a small plug.

“Okay, cool, thanks,” and then Luna left as quickly as she appeared. Most likely to go to Roxanne. Quinn feared they might’ve put a curse on her by accident.

Now it was Mint’s turn, and she politely smiled to Quinn, “Whatcha doing here? Don’t take this as an offense but you don’t seem to be the type to go to high brow events like this.”

Quinn shrugged, “Sylvia’s here. Have to make sure she doesn’t die from a heart attack.” It was…partly true. But they knew deep down that she could do this. If anything…them being here might’ve been more of a hindrance to her than anything.

Mint clasped her hands together and batted her eyes, “Awh, that’s too sweet. By the way, your get up looks amazing. You look like the BBEG, but in the best possible way.”

That compliment caused Quinn to actually let out a laugh, a joyful glint in their bright eyes, “Thanks. Best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Ha, no problem. Now, I would love to chat with you all night, I really would, but I got all these kids that want to hear stories of my adventures. If I don’t tell them, I think they’ll pull all my hair out,” Mint ran a hand through her curls.

The silver-haired person chuckled again, the morbid thought amusing them. “Alright. Go ahead. I gotta wait for Sylvia to get back anyhow.”

“Gotcha. See you later, Quinn,” and with that, the explorer went away to the horde of children. After she left, Quinn noticed Baptiste, who had a big dumb gleam on his face as he sauntered over. “Fantastic job, Quinn! Your reading comprehension could use some work, but overall that was a downright pleasant encounter.”

“Yea…that wasn’t absolutely insufferable,” Quinn agreed, “But, like…I already knew her. And that Luna girl left before she could become a real annoyance. I doubt those rotten pricks would like me any more now than they did fifteen minutes ago.”

Baptiste raided a brow, “Why would you care about them? You shouldn’t care what they think of you. You’re pretty brilliant as you are.”

“Yea. I know…” They held their arms and pouted. “…But what if they think of Sylvia differently because of me…?”

At the question, the socialite raised his hands in front of him in exasperation, “Now, hold it right there, Quinn. Sylvia loves you. Adores you. Seriously, she never shuts up about you. She wouldn’t give a single damn about what those executives think, and neither should you,” he coughed, “…Forgive my crudeness.”

Baptiste looked irritated, rightfully so, they surmised. The two were both right. Sylvia might not care what they think…but her reputation might be faltered. Rafta might not get the funding it needs. Because Quinn decided to play pretend for a day. To pretend they were pretty for once in their life.

Some were still staring.

“…I’ll be right back.”

The outcast got up and went to the shadows. Quinn needed the darkness’ company right now.

—

Roxanne was having a very good time, much better than she was anticipating.

Of course, racism exists, and her reputation still haunts her, so some patrons weren’t very willing to converse with the demoness scam artist. But, there were people who were desperate for her services; particularly rich socialites. The coins were sweet, but the secrets that were shared with her were much sweeter.

Right after she got a tip about a possible cheating fiasco from a child that didn’t look like her father in the slightest, someone popped up beside her.

“Hi! Roxanne, is it? I’m Luna, I’m the advertising agent for Sylvia and Oswald’s potion shop. I came to ask you about-“

“I don’t need your advertising benefits, miss. I can do plenty well on my own,” Roxanne rebutted as she sipped on her champagne. Luna shook her head, her pink hair going into a blur as she did so, “Oh, no no. I’m asking about Quinn’s outfit. Do you know where you two got the idea from?”

Roxanne had her attention grabbed, “No, unfortunately. Quinn is very secretive when it comes to where they got the inspiration.”

The moth pulled up a photo on her phone, “In the six minutes and thirty-two seconds it took me to get from Quinn to you, I looked up where I saw that look originally. It’s an ancient organza, from a history book about far away cultures.”

Once the photo was shoved in her face, Roxanne was immediately intrigued. It did depict the outfit Quinn wore, but it was an abstract drawing. On top of that, it looked incredibly old, at the very least five centuries old. Luna spoke again, “This outfit is from the country of Voya. Pretty small, and not much is known about it nowadays; getting there is a pretty tough task. But they are credited for being the first clairvoyants ever!”

The taller woman was about to reply, but the spry little thing kept talking, “Now, this particular outfit is mostly used for farming to get dirt out of their eyes, but they are also known for being good outfits for dancing. And then , I found out that they used to do these rituals where they come inside a shrine in rags, and then come out in a brand new gorgeous outfit!”

Roxanne tried again, she failed. “And thennnn , I discovered that they only did that for weddings or birthdays or other special occasions because the spell always wore off at midnight.”

At that fact, Roxanne had to put her gloved hand over Luna’s mouth. “Midnight…?” She rolled her eyes, “So their look is temporary? ”

Even through the glove, the bug managed to speak, though it was greatly muffled, “Well, it’s only ten-forty-one, they should be fine for a while.”

“Yes, but I don’t want them to be in literal rags in front of an entire body of rich men. No one deserves that hell. Come on-“

Roxanne held one of Luna’s many arms and dragged her through the crowd to look for Quinn.

In the shadows, there was a boy. And a woman, but the woman had a very good disguise. She overheard the bug’s little spiel, and recognized Quinn’s name.

The lizard scoffed. And here she thought that coming here was a waste of time.

The queen took her puppet along with her back into the dark. 

Chapter Text

It was later on in the night, around eleven. Eleven-thirty, maybe? Quinn couldn’t tell.

They didn’t cry, they really didn’t, but they did spend the past hour sulking in the garden like a depressed mole. It was very pretty, added outside of the colosseum a little bit after the competition circuit. It had Baptiste all over it, but there were some sentient flytraps and roses that kept the place from being dull. It made the time pass a little bit faster, even if the roses were notorious for talking smack. A baby flytrap bulb was added to the garden, and Quinn, being isolated from the rest of the happenings in Rafta’s biggest party, decided to sing it a little lullaby.

Lullaby and goodnight,

With foxgloves bedight,

With ivies o’er spread,

Is poison’s wee bed.

Lay thee down now and rest,

May thy slumber be blessed.

The little plant let out animalistic coos at the song. They modified the lyrics to fit the plant, of course, which made it all the more special. This was the little bulb’s moment, not anyone else’s. Eventually, the infant flower eventually hung its head and fell asleep, and surprisingly the rest of the bed of flytraps fell asleep as well. The roses were a bit miffed that the lyrics were changed, but overall the song was considered a success, and eventually the snooty flowers fell asleep too. Once Quinn was finally done, a voice spoke up, and not from the roses this time.

“Little racoon…you never fail to surprise me~”

Quinn shot up, “You tell anyone about this, you’re dead. I mean it.”

Roxanne strutted out, while a slightly exasperated looking Luna followed along. “Trust me, someone having a good singing voice isn’t an interesting enough secret to spill. Besides, we have something to tell you. Luna?”

The moth in question set herself straight as she pulled out her phone. It was clear that Luna was tired, but even then her hyper personality never faltered. Throughout her passionate, now slightly slurred tangents, Quinn looked through all of the pictures she showed to them. They couldn’t believe their eyes. They…they were right. The visions were real; the people were real. It wasn’t just a delusion. But, one little tidbit from Luna managed to grab their attention. 

“...ritual was used for super special ceremonies because the spell only lasts until midnight.”

“H-Huh?!” Quinn dropped the phone without much care, to which Luna eeped and rushed toward her rectangular baby. “I-I only have this until midnight?! What kind of crap clause is that-?!”

“Quinn,” Roxanne placed her hands on their shoulders, “Don’t fret too much. I can try to recreate the spell-”

“With what potions? And with what coin?”

Roxanne let out a huff, “...Now, it’s only eleven-twenty. Forty minutes is quite a lot of time; I bet Sylvia misses you.”

Quinn slumped, “I mean, of course. I miss her too, but-”

“Shush!” A gloved finger suddenly made its way over their mouth, “None of that nonsense. Don’t waste your time sulking, Sylvia is waiting for you. I can’t think of a better romantic opportunity. And who knows; once the spell wears off, maybe…other opportunities will fall into your lap,” she chuckled.

“Ew, gross, no. Fine, I’ll find Sylvia.”

The black velvet clothed woman beamed and patted them on their hat, “That’s my little pest. Go on now.”

Luna shot up from her place on the cobblestone, “Oh! I think I saw her near the sun-”

“Yea I know where she is,” they blurted before immediately tracking down Sylvia. Of course, Quinn could track down their partner with all three of their eyes closed at this point, and sure enough they were able to spot her. It seemed she was simply wandering, hands behind her back, and dress almost perfectly matched the sunflowers that were around her. Then Sylvia noticed her beloved out of the corner of her eye and immediately brightened, “Quinn! There you are!”

The half moon illuminated down on Quinn, causing their magical clothes to glimmer. This spell made them feel the most confident ever felt. It felt like them. It wasn’t a costume, not really. It was an extension of who they truly were. They will enjoy every last moment they have with being a metaphorical royal for a day. 

A flush formed on Sylvia’s face, “You look wonderful.”

“Shut- Thanks. You look nice too.”

Sylvia trotted up to them, the grass slightly staining the tail of her gown, “Were you just about to say ‘shut up’ to me?”

“I mean, that’s far from the worst thing I’ve ever said to you…” Quinn mumbled, gravitating toward her glow. “But…I’m sorry…for almost saying it. I’m trying to get better at accepting compliments.”

The taller partner crossed her arms, “Can you also apologize for being so hard to find?”

“You found me though.”

“No, you found me .”

“Tomato, tomato.”

Sylvia let out a scoff, but then finally closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around their waist, “Well, I’m glad this transformation didn’t change your charming personality.” Quinn gazed up at her face as they squished their bodies together; their face was all mischief.

“Better get a good look while it lasts, then.”

“Hmm? What do you mean, lovebug?” 

Quinn responded, trying to ignore the way their heart skipped a beat at the nickname, “This costume only lasts until midnight. Some sort of rule that happens with the spell me and Roxanne did. That moth nerd, what was her name, Luna? She told me.”

Sylvia pursed her lips at the news, “Well that’s a crappy bargain. But like…the spell was done before?”

The shorter person nodded, “I mean, yea…What time is it?” Sylvia looked down at her tablet, swooping some of the hair strands out of her eyes, “...Eleven-thirty.”

“Yea, the whole history lecture behind it all should be a story for another time. Would be a pretty decent birthday present,” they quipped.

“Wow. My favorite birthday tradition. History class.”

“Is getting a present two weeks after your birthday also a good tradition?”

Sylvia shrugged, “I mean, no, but what else is new?”

Mismatched eyes gazed into emerald ones. Eventually, the two interlocked hands; their warmth shielded them from the late night chill. The floating orchestra from the colosseum was at its loudest, and it could be mildly heard by the couple.

They were playing a waltz.

The dance portion of the evening was underway, it seemed. The choreography itself seemed simple enough, at least to Sylvia, but she was way too nervous to ever attempt it in front of people. And she very much doubted that Quinn knew the steps to it.

But then…Quinn placed one of Sylvia’s hands on their waist. Their face was brightened and it grew even more vibrant as they put one palm on her neck. The contact made her entire skin form goosebumps. Quinn straightened up their back, “...You lead. You’re taller…”

“H-Hold on, Quinn. You know how to waltz?”

They shrugged, “My parents taught me when I was little…for courtship or whatever…I never got to do it with someone.” It was now Sylvia’s turn to blush, “C-Courtship…?”

“Ugh, I’m not proposing, you goof,” they used their free arm to hold Sylvia’s hand out to the side, “I just…I just really wanna dance with you. I dunno it’s…it’s kinda romantic…I guess.”

“But I don’t know-”

“No worries,” Quinn spread their feet slightly apart, Sylvia following along, “The music’s in ¾ time. It’s just three moves you have to do. Lemme show you.” Sylvia looked down at her feet and accepted Quinn’s tutorial. She obeyed their instruction as best as she could, spreading her feet, putting them together, then moving right. One, two, three…one, two, three…

Over and over again, until eventually they sped up their pace to go along with the tempo of the orchestra. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two three.

And then, Quinn and Sylvia flew.

Throughout all of the crescendos of the music, the two spun along with it. The waltz was greatly muffled from where they danced, however it only made the dance even more entrancing. Quinn taught Sylvia to the best of their ability, though she did stumble a few times still, whether it was tripping on her dress or stumbling over their feet. There were also times where Quinn got too overzealous and wanted to be spun, but neither of them had the grace to pull it off, causing them to fall into the plants. But as soon as she faltered, the couple found their way back into their silly little dance again. It was gentle. It was slow. It was imperfect. But was it love.

Eventually, the music died down. Thank goodness too, because Quinn and Sylvia were utterly exhausted afterward. They let out heavy breaths, their clothes and faces covered in dirt and pollen. But then their ragged attempts at composure turned into laughter.

The clock struck twelve. In a simple flash of violet, Quinn was in rags again.

Despite the fact that their outfit disappeared, all the dirt and pollen didn’t. Fun.

Sylvia frowned, “Wow…time flew so fast.”

“…Yea. Time tends to do that,” Quinn tried to joke, but they were too annoyed with wiping the grass from their face. Their girlfriend gave them an embrace, her head resting on top of theirs. “I have to go…the gala doesn’t end until two. A pre-birthday party, I’m guessing.” Despite the fact that Quinn was back in their usual trashy attire, and they were ruining Sylvia’s glow, they managed to look up and grin, “Have fun, birthday girl. I’m way overdue for a nap, anyway.”

Sylvia placed a gentle smooch on the crown of their head, giving a forlorning look. “…Thank you for this, Quinn. I mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The star of the gala stepped away, but the eclipsing moon still held her hand. “…I…I…”

Quinn couldn’t bring themselves to do it. Not yet.

“…I hope you have a good night, blightroach. Happy birthday.”

Sylvia gave a bright gleam and a gentle kiss on their palm before finally leaving the garden to return to the colosseum. 

Quinn was now alone. Back to normal.

Boxer must’ve missed them a lot; being stuck with Oswald all night might not have been the most fun, especially with other pets around. Boxer’s a needy boy, Quinn needs to-

“It’s a lovely garden, isn’t it?”

That’s a voice Quinn has never heard.

They turned to the stranger, and lo and behold. Robin. And, by extent, Maven.

Robin was wearing the iconic cobalt robes, all pristine and shining like a plastic action figure. It was like he never took a months-long vacation off the face of the earth. He had that damn smile on his face; the marketable one. The one that was quite literally bred to be a disguise. “And that’s an even lovelier suit…or was, anyway.”

“Har har…” Quinn crossed their arms and let out a tiny sneeze. The enby examined the two. The lizard, Mae, had that same dopey look. Her magenta eyes crossed. Completely innocent. Not a single brain cell in that head.

Why…? Why here? Why now? Why would the greatest villain of their generation suddenly turn up? At some random gala? And somehow not be noticed by everyone around her? At the very least, Robin should’ve turned a few heads. At the very least one. 

“What are you doing out here? Does everyone else know their darling Robin came back from the void?”

A posh laugh emanated, “No no. This is Sylvia’s night. I don’t want to outshine her.”

Sure. Would be a shame to outshine her and ruin the reputation she worked so hard for in a single night. Now who would do something like that?

“Why are you here? In the garden?” Quinn laid on top of their crystal ball, the familiar surface calming them slightly. Robin strotted up to them, cane in hand, the moonlight cascading him, “I just came to observe. See how everyone in Rafta is doing after Sylvia’s stunning victory, is all. And from what I have observed…everything is sparkling here! I’ve even heard you became her partner. You have my congratulations.”

He bowed. They wanted to puke.

“…Thanks. But why are you talking with me specifically? Finally getting some game isn’t really a big deal.”

Robin smirked, “I wanted to talk with you because I’ve heard you’re particularly good at finding rare ingredients. Sylvia gives your service a lot of praise, as well as the Heroes’ Guild.”

That caused Quinn to straighten their posture. The psychic really wished they didn’t look like they were dragged through a field right about now. Didn’t give off the most commanding presence.  “A commission…? Why would you want my help? After all, you’re the Hero of Rafta. Savior of Puppies, Kisser of Babies, whatever whatnot. You can handle exploring Rafta on your own, can you?” Their eyes narrowed, their head tilted, “Or are you too much of a baby to get them on your own?”

Another chuckle formed; it almost distracted Quinn from how truly dead the boy’s eyes looked, “Well, this is a special order. And I’m trying to stay under the radar nowadays. However…this garden might get populated soon. The waltz is over and it’s bound to get at least a bit stuffy in that colosseum. We will have to discuss this matter more thoroughly another time,” Robin pouted.

This is quite literally the most suspicious situation Quinn has ever taken part in. That’s saying quite a damn lot. But…this was Maven. Maven, Witch Queen of Rafta, Controller of Many, and Nightmare to All. They should be terrified. But all they saw was the brightest opportunity ever bestowed.

If Quinn managed to pull some strings, get on her good side, maybe get her to listen to them a bit, they would be able to do all kinds of crazy stuff. Not to the extent of corporate espionage or controlling an entire continent, but something to make them…more. More than just an ingredient vender and an actual, full fledged clairvoyant. Her mental magic was supposed to be the greatest the world has ever seen. 

She could teach them some things. They could teach her some things.

Quinn wanted that power. They were destined for it. 

“What time? What place?”

“Kraken monument. Around five in the morning. Does that work for you?”

Five A.M. Only five hours of sleep, at most. Sucks, but it’s worth it.

“That works,” Quinn responded and placed their crystal ball under their arm. Robin’s eyes shone something sinister, “I will meet you there, Quinn.”

Quinn lowered their head in a sort of nod. The brim of their cap perfectly cascading their human eyes in shadow. The glass eye that they wear so proudly was staring right at the fallen queen.

“You too, Mae…and Robin.”

With that, Quinn finally chose to leave the venue.

Maven stood there alone. The crickets were awake now, and it worked with the uncomfortable silence and barrenness of the gardens. Only the snoozing flytraps and roses were accompanying them. However, that wouldn’t last long. Most of the party goers started to wander to the gardens to cool off, which cued the famed hero back into the darkness, where no one could see him, or Maven.

Quinn was too busy hurrying down the village streets to pick up Boxer to notice the pit growing inside their chest.

And then, when they were miles and miles away from each other, both Quinn and Maven smirked.

It was almost hilarious how oblivious people are.

Chapter Text

As expected, being awake this early in the morning is not fun. 

The sun was barely coming out, very few lights were on in the city, and Quinn literally felt like half of their life essence was sapped away. They were usually exhausted, but they also usually didn’t sleep for only five hours. They felt like literal hell.

But Quinn had a job to do. Probably- no, most definitely- the most important job in their life.

First stop, the Kraken.

It was as imposing and badass as ever today, the light coming from the dim sunrise causing the skeleton to become highlighted in gold. Quinn has been inside that place plenty of times, mostly just to spite incompetent guards, but this time around they were strangely absent. They could see some sort of dim light coming from the inside of the skull’s maw. They scoffed, status was a hell of a magic.

Boxer went ahead into the carcass before Quinn did, probably due to the scent of a lizard making him hungry. They had to rush after him and tug on his leash to make sure he didn’t eat the witch queen whole. That could be for later, depending on how this deal goes.

Robin was at the far end of the skull cavern, with him casting a light cantrip to illuminate himself in the darkness. The man’s eyes brightened when the cryptid and their pet walked in, “Quinn. Lovely to see you again.”

Boxer saw Mae on his shoulder and immediately started to drool. This caused the yellow reptile to skitter on top of Robin’s hat. The blond let out a nervous laugh, “Your mimic, I presume? He’s quite the looker.”

Quinn gently pulled Boxer back and then sat cross-legged beside him to keep the creature in check. “Thanks. Boxer won’t eat you…probably.”

Robin gave another plastic grin and also sat down, “He holds all of your items, correct?”

The salesperson nodded, “Yup. Want a look at the wares? Just watch your fingers. And your scales.” The mimic handler patted open Boxer, to which he opened up to show the inventory. Plenty of ingredients were there, of course, and they made sure to double check the stock to make sure it was brimming with magical treats. The dapper customer looked inside with interest, “What a wonderful concept. These ingredients are also completely dry, not a speck of saliva on them…remarkable.”

“Thanks…” Quinn rested their cheek on one of their hands and bored into them with half lidded eyes, “…But if you’re going to compliment me, say it as your true self.”

“My…true self?”

That tone of voice. Maven knows that Quinn knows. That made them mad. “You know that I know something, don’t you?”

Robin widened his eyes and tilted his head, all doe eyed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Quinn.”

Okay, now Quinn was mad. They didn’t want to play the card this early, but the shock factor was always a useful tool. “You know that I know you’re Maven, right? Don’t act stupid.”

There was a moment of silence; the rustling of sand was heard. Then Robin laughed. No, not a gentle chuckle, more cackling this time. Good, Quinn was getting somewhere.

Robin wiped some blonde hair away from his face, “Funny joke. Now why-“

“You casted a spell. It erased everyone’s memories but mine and Sylvia’s. I was in the audience that day.” Quinn shrugged, puffing their cheek. “Logistically, I can’t get a special ingredient for somebody who won’t even show me their true colors. It’s not a good way to start a business venture, don’t ya think?”

The man’s eyes changed; they were far more dark, less fountain water and more deadly tsunami. “You’re funny. I like you.”

“Yea, I’m hilarious- Now come on out already. Or do you just want to be food instead?”

“… Fine. ”

And with that, Robin fell asleep, and Maven showed herself. The gecko form she was cursed to bear now had a sophisticated elegance to it, rather than a dopey disguise. Her magenta eyes were given a human life, and she stood atop the unconscious boy’s shoulder on her hind legs. The queen had an air of annoyance when she looked down at them, “Here I am. Are you happy now?”

Quinn gave her an evil grin, “Very. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Oh~” Maven couldn’t help but smirk, “I have a little admirer, do I?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” said Quinn, knowing full well some sick part of them is, “More like someone who sees an opportunity. I’m sure you feel the same.”

“An opportunity?” She stood back, as if what they said was just a simple jest, “An opportunity for what, little one?”

The clairvoyant rose the crystal ball from their lap and scooted closer, “Now…I’m a mental magic user. Telemetry is my specialty. I’ve had these powers my entire life. It serves me well; gives me a good business venture. At the end of the day, it keeps me fed and relatively comfortable. But…I’ve always thought it could be more…Does this story sound familiar?”

Maven tilted her head. It did. “So…you have the same ambitions as me.”

Quinn nodded. They had to admit that history was their favorite subject, especially when they dug deeper than what most of the lies the victors spewed out. “You weren’t satisfied with just having one gift. You bent your abilities and experimented, years and years of work in creating a land of your very own. You pushed your powers into something even the best of the best couldn’t even dream of achieving. You’ve always craved more.”

Always stuck in one place. Never allowed to choose, only being able to do one thing over and over for the rest of time. An absolute nightmare.

“… I want more. Can you give that to me?”

The witch smiled, “So you want to be my student?”

“ Apprentice . Student sounds young. Immature. Naive.”

Maven chuckled. An inside joke crossed through her head. “Alright. I’ll bite. But in return you have to do a couple of tasks for me.”

“Of course,” agreed the psychic, “I assume you want more than what’s in my stock. These ingredients are…basic, for someone of your capabilities.”

The lizard crawled inside Robin’s coat and pulled out a piece of parchment, the man still none the wiser. Quinn took it and opened it up to reveal some drawings and descriptions of things they’ve never seen before.

Orchid of the Siren Maiden - An underwater flower with the ability to emit songs from their petals, causing intense joy or indescribable sadness.

Orchid of the Beast’s Love - Looks like a simple rose on the outside, however it has the harshest thorns that could pierce glass and break hearts.

Orchid of the Dozen Dancers - What seems like a simple gladiolus orchid at first glance is actually capable of swaying to whatever music is being sung or played nearby.

All of these items seemed very familiar to Quinn, yet not at all. In fact, they had plenty of orchids with strangely regal titles in Boxer right now. “…These are weird. Like the Orchid of the Ice Princess. Named after all those monarchs a long time ago, yea? But I’ve never heard of these.”

Maven grabbed whatever orchids are inside the mimic already and gently placed them in an ornate linen bag. “That’s because those flowers are almost extinct. Though some of them do indeed exist, if you look hard enough.”

“Exist where? Outside Rafta?”

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Quinn turned over the paper. It had an insignia that included Maven’s crystal and tail. Interesting.

“…You know, it’s funny. Despite exploring almost every corner of this place, I’ve never been to your castle before. Cause, y’know…curses and junk. Getting all the potions required is expensive.”

“There’s always a first for everything,” Maven spoke, gently tightening the bag closed. “Now run along. No lessons until this task is complete.”

“Wait,” Quinn stood up and stretched their arms and legs, satisfying pops coming out from their limbs. “I have one more clause.”

Maven rolled her eyes and leaned against Robin’s yellow locks. “Fine. What other clause?” Quinn crossed their arms and got nose to nose with Maven. It felt a little odd, intimidating a lizard, but they knew full well that she was far more than her body entailed. Far more dangerous. Far more exciting. And far more evil. 

“…You hurt Sylvia, or any other one of my associates, I will spill everything. And I will hunt you down myself.”

Maven wasn’t even phased, but she huffed anyway, “Done. I have no use for her or anyone else anyway,” she explained, giving a dismissive hand. The psychic backed away and held onto Boxer’s leash, to which he finally closed his maw. A bag of coins was on top of the creature’s head, and Quinn pocketed it before turning back. They tipped their head to her, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

A smirk later, they left.

Maven once again possessed Robin, allowing him to tie the bag of orchids onto his belt. He watched Quinn leave, their broom taking them back up to the now pink sky.

They really tried to intimidate her. How adorable.

—

Sylvia’s shop was closed today, as expected. Everyone living inside that house needed plenty of rest, especially before the birthday celebration later today. So Quinn’s expedition to the rotting palace would have to wait another day. But they could get one orchid, one more well known but still extremely hard to find.

The Orchid of the Witch Queen.

Named after Maven herself, this flower is the rarest in all of Rafta. Well, second rarest, Quinn presumed, due to the new orchids they’ve figured out existed. No one really knows where this flower came from, since it sprouted when Maven’s rule first began, but the ingredient vendor always assumed that it came from her lab, like every other fauna or flora that was birthed from her mind. It was a very beautiful flower, but getting it was always a challenge. As most things birthed from indescribable space voids are.

But Quinn knew exactly where they could find one.

Right to the Skull Caverns, at the very edge of the cursed forest, and in the deepest rabbit hole that was nearly invisible to the naked eye. It was covered by black leaves and branches, and very few would ever dare to explore near this area long enough to notice anything was amiss. Quinn rolled their neck and dove inside, as if they were simply diving into a swimming pool.

In a tiny little crevice, where Quinn has to bend over their body to make sure it fits inside, there was a little void. It never went away, or maybe they got extremely lucky whenever they went to this place. But in that tiny portal to another world, there was a field of orchids. They quickly picked them out one by one. It was a surprisingly delicate process, since these orchids are very powerful but extremely fragile. The explorer shuttered whenever they thought of their first few attempts at collecting these damn things, all those precious magical petals crumbling in their grasp. After an hour or so, with a sore back, scratched up legs and arms, and bugs crawling in their hair, they finally had the restock of orchids they needed.

When they crawled back up to the surface, a wild twit appeared.

“Ah! Wait, Quinn? What are you doing here?”

Great. Perfect. Awesome.

Quinn eventually freed their body from the crevice and shook their body like a wet dog, “Why would you wanna know? What are you doing here?”

Mint put a finger underneath her freckled chin, “Well, it’s sorta my job. I wanted to get ahead of collecting ingredients before Sylvia’s birthday party. You are coming, right?”

“Of course,” they immediately replied, “Can’t guarantee I’d stay a long time, though.”

“That’s okay, we all have our social limits. Your battery was pretty depleted from last night, I imagine. By the way, you look pretty scratched up. Here, I have a health potion to-” Mint noticed the supernatural glint in Quinn’s hands, and her eyes widened, “Hold on, are those Orchids of the Witch Queen? How did you get all those?! They’re, like, legendary rarity! I’d be lucky to even find one!”

“I have my ways. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at the party, okay?” Quinn quickly placed the orchids into Boxer and retreated from the rotting forest. Like hell they’d ever lend Mint these things. This mission was too important to screw up. 

Mint was left alone, confused and slightly worried. Quinn seemed more anxious than usual. Or excited? They were always hard to read. Maybe she’ll get to the bottom of it later. Maybe she’ll even pick up a thing or two from them.

…Okay. New Side Quest unlocked.

—

The party was, thankfully, extremely small. At least compared to the event last night.

All of the potion shelves were made into makeshift tables to hold all the snacks and the cake. The cake was courtesy of Mint’s baking, and the snacks were either made by Xid or bought from the bakeries in town. Near the middle of the afternoon, Saffron decided to spend most of her time building brand new dining tables from scratch in the yard. Quinn waved to her as they walked towards the front door of the shop, to which she waved back with a calm grin. The satyr seemed pretty unbothered by the winds picking up, her caramel hair was flowing along with it. 

When they entered, Muktuk was giving Sylvia a gift. It was an ice sculpture, with something metal in the center. A heart? A butterfly? Some sort of dumpling? The walrus eagerly placed it at the end of the counter. “The true meaning of this piece will be revealed in around two to three days’ time. In every stage of this artwork’s life cycle, I hope it will bring beauty and wonder to both your customers and to yourself every time you share your talents each day.”

The birthday woman beamed at her friend, “Thanks, Muktuk. That’s really sweet of you. I promise to take good care of it.”

“Your smile this day is thanks enough. The day of your birth should be one of your happiest. I am glad I will make it brighter, even if for a brief moment.”

Quinn finally made their presence known by the little bell ringing when the door swung open. Muktuk turned to them and stretched out his tattooed arms, “Welcome Quinn! Your presence here is most welcome!”

“Hey,” they greeted, simply. Quinn liked Muktuk fine, his abstract art was actually pleasing to their eyes. It was weird. They liked weird. The only reason they don’t talk with the artisan much is because he speaks in big words and long sentences that make their head hurt.

Sylvia’s arms wrapped around their shoulders, and Quinn immediately warmed up. “Quinn! You’re here!”

“Yea. I’m here.” Quinn hugged back.

Sylvia moved arms length so that she could fully examine them. She didn’t like what she saw. “Quinn, how did you get scratched up like this? Did you go out foraging beforehand? You didn’t bring a single health potion with you?”

“For the record, I did,” Boxer came up at a moment's notice and opened up to reveal a stock of potions. Quinn took out a minor health potion and gulped it down, and seconds later all their scratches and bug bites went away. “There. Happy now, Mom?”

She huffed and crossed her arms angrily, which looked really funny with her birthday hat on. “Don’t you ‘mom’ me,” she pouted, though it was very clear that she wasn’t actually mad, more so cautious about their well-being. Quinn thought it was cute.

Eventually, the two separated, mostly because of the eyes staring at them. Right now, the partygoers were Oswald, Roxanne, Baptiste, Xid, Luna, Corsac, Salt, and Pepper. Xid and Roxanne were conversing while eating oatmeal cookies. Luna was busy taking aesthetic photos of all of the decorations, completely with eye melting filters. The cats were staring daggers at them; their claws currently into two pieces of cake, sharp as knives. Cats have a pretty solid memory; Quinn should probably avoid them while they’re here.

The entire shop was decorated with all sorts of streamers and stars, most likely courtesy of Oswald, who had a birthday hat on which looked hilariously small in his mane of hair. He looked really happy to be there, if not a bit tired. 

Sylvia held Quinn’s hand, “All of the birthday wishes and singing and everything is already over with. You can just eat and hang around.”

“And what did you wish for?” they asked as they grabbed a piece of cake. It was an ice cream cake; cactus and cream with red velvet. Sylvia had excellent taste.

“I’m not telling. Spilling it out makes the wish null and void.”

“Huh? Who says that?”

Corsac answered, though timidly, “I’m not sure…but apparently it’s common knowledge. I’m unfamiliar with the rules of birthday wishes myself.” Baptiste cheerfully explained, holding a glass of sparkling water, “Well, your wishes should be special to you. If you were to share your birthday wish with someone else, then it won’t be exclusive to you anymore. Thus, your birthday wish will simply turn into wishful thinking.”

Quinn rolled their eyes, “Well, that’s dumb. If I were to wish to be the richest person in Rafta I wanna at least brag about it-“

“Heya Quinn. Can I talk to you for a bit?” Mint asked, completely eager and as cheery as ever.

Great. Quinn loved being interrogated during parties.

“Sure. I’ll bite. Be right back, Silverfish.” Quinn gave their partner’s hand a squeeze before following Mint outside. The sun was just beginning to set, the blue sky slowly bleeding into orange and purple. Mint went under the wall lamp, her hands clenching onto her bag as always. “Please forgive me for bringing you in a vulnerable position like this, but can I make a trade with you?”

Well, that was unexpected. Still not any less bad. “No. Those orchids are out of rotation.”

“B-But I brought my bestest stuff! Got some underworld pomegranates, some xenograpes, some gold, some slimes, even,” she toured through her satchel to pull out the various things she brought. Poor thing wasted both her time and her storage space.

“Listen, you’re a nice girl. A pretty decent adventurer, too. But, I’m not gonna sell those orchids to you. No matter what.”

Mint pouted, “Well, alright then. But can you at least teach me how you came across them so easily?”

Quinn let out their hand, curling their fingers towards themself. The trader let out a nervous chuckle before giving them gold…and then xenograpes…then more gold…then slimes…then even more gold.

“Thanks. Boxer, here boy!” Quinn pet the little creature to open its mouth to place all of their new goodies inside. “I’ll teach you whenever I feel like it. Which will probably take a week…or a year.”

Mint simply smiled, “That’s alright. I can wait.”

“Can you wait a year?”

“I can mark it in my planner!” The hero enthusiastically pulled out her multi-layered planner, with stickers of all of her favorite animals and baked goods, and she wrote down something on the same day next year, her writing being basically chicken scratch. “There we go! Now let’s get back to partying, okay?”

Quinn thanked the gods that Mint finally went back into the building. The breeze almost blew their hat away and they had to instinctively push it down over their head to keep it from flying. When they finally got stable ground, they huffed before something caught their eye. The sun casting a shadow on the infamous statue. Maven; her imposing form was still haunting Rafta even decades after her reign fell.

The psychic stared at the figure for a while.

Why couldn’t clairvoyants predict their own futures?

Chapter Text

Today was the day. The day Quinn finally got a move on with heading to Maven’s castle.

Or at least…it would be. If Sylvia’s commissions didn’t take so long to complete. They commissioned the many potions required to head to the cursed castle as soon as her birthday party was over (kind of a scummy thing to do, in retrospect, but Sylvia didn’t seem to mind.) The potion seller told them that it will take, at most, three days to complete. Not only did she have the main storefront to run but she also had other commissions stockpiled that she was procrastinating on. It was going to take a while, so Quinn had to go to the regular grounded marketplace, and wait. And wait. And wait.

It’s only been two hours and they’re already conducting a plan to steal the potions themself from some other schmuk going through their own five trials. 

Before their dangerous expertise in evil plans could come to fruition, a customer appeared.

It was Mint, and she had an eager look on her face. “I know that look, Quinner the Winner! You’re bored! And I just got some break time from the guildhall today. Now would be the perfect time to teach me those orchid plucking skills of yours, don’t ya think?”

Quinn groaned tiredly and placed their hand over their eyes. “First off, never… ever call me ‘Quinner the Winner’ again. And second, what makes you think I don’t have any errands to do?”

Mint looked up to the sky in thought, “Well, you were sleeping just now. And by the looks of things, I don’t think anyone’s willing to get to the marketplace anytime soon.”

She was right; the sky was clotted into gray storm clouds, which just seemed to grow darker and darker by the second. Apparently those weather witches decided to take a vacation today. Light taps of rain made it to Quinn’s cloth shelter, and they finally allowed themselves to sit up. “I mean…guess that’s true. But who wants to go adventuring during a rainstorm?”

“I do!”

“Of course you do.”

“Come onnnnn Quinn! You’re a pretty good adventurer. Me and Baptiste looked over what you did for the chapter in the country, right before you got to Rafta!”

Quinn’s heart stopped. “…You didn’t.”

The novice nodded, “Oh, they did! I know you probably don’t wanna get your privacy invaded and all, the records told us  that for a few short months a couple years ago, you were actually the chapter’s seer? An honest to goodness seer ?! How did I now know this?!”

If you had a well funded guild, you’d have some pretty skilled heroes that get the job done. If you have an exceptionally funded guild, you most definitely have a seer. They are used to help guide adventurers with their expeditions, warn them of any enemies that might get the advantage otherwise. But clairvoyants were hard to come by as is, so seers were a very rare luxury that only some guilds can afford.

The clairvoyant sighed. Well, this was as good a time as any to spill out another part of their identity to somebody. It wasn’t that big of a secret, anyway. 

“Yea…I was. It made good money, and I learned a lotta stuff about foraging. About how not to die. But being in a crowded building, following the law, making sure the investors get their money’s worth…it was exhausting.”

“Woaaaaaaah!” The fan girl’s eyes shone like stars, her pupils practically increasing by what they could estimate was at least 25%. “Quinn! You must tell me which adventurers you worked with-!”

“I will not, ” they snapped, rubbing their eyes. “The ones I became buddy buddy with were hardly considered heroes. Couldn’t do a single thing themselves and had to rely on me to guide them. I quit soon after my, er…accidents.”

“You mean your arsons? Which most definitely weren’t accidents?”

“Mint, do you want me to explore old trees with you or not?”

She frantically nodded while pulling out another pouch of coins, “Now, you get this only if you’ll agree to adventure with me. About 500 gold in this bad boy. Who knows? Maybe it’ll get you a Bag of Holding somewhere?”

Boxer growled from underneath Quinn’s broom. Mint cringed, “Hehe…or, maybe, another magical item that’s…not that. Maybe.”

The merchant looked at the bag. Seemed legit; Mint was never the type of person to fleece someone. And even the most experienced of crooks would never dare pull some kind of robbery on Quinn of all people. They rolled their shoulders and reluctantly took the bag.

“…You’re right. I don’t have anything else to do today.”

A subtle crack of thunder whispered to Rafta.

—

The edge of the Corrupted Wasteland was as dark as it could ever be, with a thunderstorm and everything. Really aesthetically pleasing, Quinn thought. The rain was now a drizzle, though that didn’t deter Quinn or Mint’s progress in the slightest. Quinn’s broom was large and sturdy, allowing for swift travel through the thick trees, mushrooms, and rocks on their way to their destination. Before long, they made it to the edge of the forbidden land.

Mint cheerfully plopped off of the broom, with Quinn trudging along. “Alrighty! Now show me where all those orchids are, Quinn old pal!”

“I’m not your pal. I’m your acquaintance. And right now, I’m also your death-preventer.” Quinn went over to one of the larger trunks, with that familiar rabbit hole. The young adventurer gazed down at the pit, her light blue eyes furrowing. “Uhh…Seems pretty dark, doesn’t it? And small. How do you fit in there?”

Quinn rolled up their sleeves, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about as skinny as an eel. Slippery like one, too. I make do.”

Their hat was unceremoniously thrown into Mint’s hands and they crouched down to the edge of the ditch. “Now, I dunno how to give advice very well. But, I do now that in order to get through this hole, you gotta breathe in and-“

“Why can’t we just expand the hole instead?” Mint asked, placing the hat on her head to grab her hammer.

Quinn looked at her like she suddenly grew snakes for hair, “Why…would you wanna do that? What if it destroys the void?”

“Void’s can’t be destroyed, everyone knows that. And besides, there’s no telling unless we try. And we can always find orchid’s the normal way, so we don’t have much to lose-“

“ You don’t. I do.”

“Just stand back. If something goes wrong I always have more gold for compensation. And, like, tons of old junk I can give you-“ The eager hero readied her weapon.

Quinn was too tired to actually argue with her, one because she didn’t really deserve it and two because they were sure there were other unending voids they could exploit somewhere. If they were at least 5% more awake they would be much more resistant to this plan. “If something bad happens, I’m cursing you for life.”

“Curse Tonics exist, Quinn.”

“Yea, but my curses are, like, extra spooky and-“

“Hammer time!!” Mint unceremoniously slammed down her hammer into the hole, and immediately the tree began to crack under the mini earthquake she created. All of the mold and damage the wood took over time made it as fragile as glass, and the entirety of the trunk began to concave. Once the dust settled, the two looked to see that the rabbit hole quickly turned into more of a tunnel. 

On the very end, there was the smallest hint of a black vortex.

Quinn raised their eyebrows, “Huh. I guess don’t have to curse you…”

Mint let out an exasperated chuckle, as if she herself doubted that it’ll turn out so successfully, “I didn’t think that the entire tree would fall apart that fast.”

“I mean…you used a giant hammer-"

Barks ripped from Boxer, and he rushed to the edge of the hole, where a stray squirrel decided to put his nose into someplace where it doesn't belong to check out what was going on. Oh no. “Boxer, stay boy-“

The mimic was salivating all over the grass. Quinn tightened their grip on his leash, giving the rodent a death glare. The squirrel was frozen by their gaze. It was still for a while.

“…Uhh…Is the squirrel gonna move, or…?” Mint whispered to Quinn, who didn’t respond. The squirrel was still there. “…Do we shoo it away…?”

The cretin began to groom itself, rapidly licking its fingers and rubbing them in its auburn fur. Its foot moved slightly; that was a mistake. A squeak emanated as the squirrel slipped into the vortex. It seemed to grow a bit from its captor. Quinn almost started to laugh, but then Boxer zipped toward what he thought was a five course meal.

“BOX-“ It was too late, Boxer was zooming, and Quinn was pulled along with him. After being dragged through rock, tree, and mud, they eventually became face to face with the portal. They could see the orchids on the other side, along with soil that looked as black as night, and seeds that looked like newborn stars. It was lovely, but probably not the best place for a mimic. 

Not that Boxer cared; he quickly made his way through.

“N-NO!” Quinn tried to pull on the leash, but it was futile. Boxer was a heavy guy, and even if they suddenly grew some sort of athleticism, it would still be pretty difficult to pull him out of a mysterious dark hole to nowhere or everywhere. But they could hear his yips from the other side. It was distorted, sure, but he was still alive. Quinn let out a breath.

Only…if Boxer did survive, where did he go?

“Quinn!” Mint slid down with her feet and kneeled alongside them. “You okay? You’re not hurt, are you? Where’s Boxer?”

Quinn lifted themselves to their knees, their forearms and legs now cut and bruised from the drag. “He went through there. I can hear him.”

More barks, and Quinn realized that the vortex was now reasonably big enough to crawl through.

The portal also reminded Quinn that they adored bad ideas. 

They stuck their head inside. Luckily, the void allowed Mint’s screaming to be muffled. The inside of the vortex was…strange. It was indeed a portal, like a small tunnel, with another passageway on the other side of a field of flowers. There were lots of them. Quinn was suddenly pulled out by Mint via leg.

“Quinn! What are you-“

“Relax, Mint! It’s safe!” Quinn groaned, the pain in their limbs definitely caught up to them now that the adrenaline is wearing off. “Inside is a tunnel, to the other side of something. Boxer’s over there, I gotta get him.”

“But- But we should at least call for backup or something? What if something happens to you? Wouldn’t that worry Sylvia?”

Quinn paused. They knew, deep down, that if something really bad happened to them, Sylvia would be heartbroken. They didn’t want to do that to her; she didn’t deserve it. But at the same time…Boxer was their whole world. Despite being a glutton, that little bugger literally saved their life, in more ways than one. 

Quinn couldn’t live with the fact that Boxer would get lost in their hands.

“…I’ll make it out. Sylvia will understand. Follow me if you want.”

And then Quinn slipped through the vortex. Mint followed, however when she put her head into the portal, she noticed that it was indeed harmless. But she was still peeved at Quinn, so she cracked her knuckles and began her chase.

The distance between the two entrances was short, about a two minute crawl, and when Quinn popped out through the other side, they didn’t expect to land painfully onto a stone floor. They just now realized that they left their hat in that forest; their head was laying on the cool rock, which made this scenario at least ten times worse. 

“Ough…” They groaned, glancing at their surroundings.

It was…odd. It was mostly dark, but there was a slight light source coming from a high window; well, window was a generous term, it was more like a vent. Were they in a basement? Everything was burnt or destroyed, not a single salvageable thing in sight. It smelled in here; like chemicals. Almost like...

…like a lab.

Barks interrupted their train of thought, and Boxer rushed to his owner’s side. His breath smelled of fur and cuteness. “Boxer, you’re in trouble. Don’t try to be adorable right now-“

“Quinn-!” A voice sprung out, this time not warbled.

“Oh, shi-, wait Mint, WAIT-“

Mint didn’t listen, she fell on top of them. The wind was ripped out from their lungs.

The clumsy adventurer noticed her landing pad and immediately shot up. “Oh, goodness, sorry Quinn! Here, I have a health potion.” Mint pulled out her great health potion, to which Quinn ripped out of her hands and gulped it down. Once it was finished, the glass was gently taken by Mint. “Don’t wanna waste glass,” she noted as she put the empty bottle into her satchel.

“Oh yea,” they coughed, “That would be terrible .” Quinn pushed themself up, letting the potion do its magic. All of their cuts and their possible broken ribs were healed in seconds.

Mint crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes directly at them. “Quinn whatever-your-surname-is, what you did was really reckless. What if something really bad happened to you?”

“I’ve had bad stuff happen to me before. There’s nothing I can’t handle.” Boxer rubbed its top lid against Quinn’s leg, requesting pets. Despite him not listening to Quinn and putting them all in this precarious situation in the first place, they couldn’t help but give him a little scritch. “…I’m sure you understand how important Boxer is to me.”

Mint’s blue eyes softened, “I mean, yea, I understand, but we should’ve called for backup. Professionals who know how to handle that kinda stuff.” She gestured to the void, which was now slowly but surely getting smaller.

Quinn rolled their eyes, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t most adventurers supposed to know how to handle mysterious vortexes?”

“I just got started on the hard tasks, and as you can see, erm…I still have some growing to do. There are always experts out there who can give you a little boost. You do accept help sometimes, do you…?” Mint’s voice got quieter at the end, more sentimental.

Quinn pursed their lips, a strand of hair falling over their eyes, “I’m fine. Look, let’s put a pin in this for later, okay? We need to get out of here.” Boxer opened up on command and they pulled out a couple of potions; Sight Enhancer, Mana Potion, and Curse Tonic. “Take ‘em. Make sure to drink the Sight Enhancer first, so you don’t step on any of those traps.”

“Awh. Thanks!” Mint took them all and immediately gulped the Sight Enhancer down. 

The clairvoyant replied with a dismissive wave of their hand and materialized their crystal ball to rest their arms as they wandered the lab. They inwardly thanked the void before it blipped into nothing.

Maven’s lab was abandoned for twenty years, and even when Oswald infiltrated the area, he barely got anything before being turned into an owl for months. So many juicy little secrets were tucked in between the little crevices those dead adventures were never able to venture.

Most importantly, those orchids.

As Quinn looked inside all of the strewn around chests, double checking each little chain to make sure they weren’t mimics, Mint was also taking in her surroundings. They half expected her to geek out at all the new sights, however her face gave away something else. Dread.

“…I never thought I’d be able to explore a place like this…Where that noble party died…” Mint rubbed her arms. “…I-I don’t think I like it very much. What are you looking for…?”

Quinn lied on instinct, “Some ingredients. Maybe a piece of gold here or there. The usual.”

“Mind sparing me some of those ingredients if you find any?” Mint asked, getting slightly more chipper.

“Well…I’ll probably eat them. Which means I’ll have them in stock at my shop. You can get them then.”

Mint grinned nervously, “Huh…You really don’t have any concern over your diet, do you?”

“My stomach is made out of nightmares. Pretty sure I’m okay.”

“Well, it would be nice to not eat plants or bugs for a little bit, right?” Mint asked as she searched the perimeter for any glyphs or other obstacles. Quinn was busy searching underneath all of the tables, which now seemed like a generous term for the piles of dark wood, “You say that like I don’t enjoy the taste of them.”

“I mean, you like baked goods better, don’t you? Like cookies?”

“Sure…I guess? Why are you asking?"

She ran a hand over her dark curls, “Well, I always like to treat my friends out to a little baking sesh. It’s a nice breather after adventures, y’know.”

Quinn stopped and turned their head over to Mint. Their stomach growled. “…Hmph. I guess that doesn’t sound too much like torture. But I’m not your friend.”

Mint rocked on her heels, giving an innocent look, “I dunnoooo~ You did give me those potions without being asked to.”

“That’s because I don’t want blood on my hands,” Quinn grumbled, searching the walls. “Did you find an exit yet? Or are you still that incompetent?”

“Yea, I found a door, actually!”

That’s good. It distracted Quinn from the fact that they might’ve accidentally cared for the twit. 

“Show me.” They rushed over to her, and she showcased a wooden door. It was pretty decrepit, to the point where the handle fell completely off and some of the wood eroded into holes. It looked more like a chocolate cake than a stable door. Quinn pushed a hand against it, and the pressure caused it to fall off its hinges, revealing a greenhouse.

This greenhouse would’ve been beautiful, if the sky was blue or there was anything remotely green in the area.

The glass ceiling was almost completely shattered, and the shards were all over the rotten soil. Quinn was just taking in the new place when Mint spoke up, “Woah! I see some ingredients! Over there!”

Mint pointed to three flowers, each in different pots, as magical and mysterious as could be. Quinn should’ve not given her the Sight Enhancer. 

“I got this,” they stated before rushing to the corner. Of course, they had to be careful, making sure they don’t harm themself any further by stepping on glass. But eventually, they made it to the corner, with Mint carefully following in tow. When the two explorers reunited, they took a moment to admire the discoveries.

There was a lilly, as indigo as a stormy sea. It looked wilted, but due to the vibrancy of the color of the petals and stem, it was still very much alive and kicking. A rose stood next to it, and it was practically glowing. The farthest petals were blood red, while the ones closer to the center became more pink. To the very right, a gladiolus. Each bloom was a different color, and yet they harmonized perfectly. There were twelve of them in total.

Quinn was busy trying to figure out how to grab these things as carefully as possible, while they heard Mint scribble frantically inside her binder. She had gloves. They didn’t.

“Hey, er…Mint. Ya mind grabbing these flowers for me? These stems look pretty thorny.”

Mint shot her head up and closed her binder with a clap. “No problem! That’s what hero friends are for!”

She hummed to herself as she carefully picked up all of the orchids. Boxer’s mouth was eagerly open, and he was soon rewarded by all three of the magical plants being placed in his maw one by one. Quinn held their breath. If she broke even one of those petals off they swore to the gods below that they would-

“Aaaaaaand…Done!”

Boxer purred as he was pet by Mint, all full with brand new evil goodies.

“Wow…” Quinn deadpanned. “…That didn’t go terribly."

“Yea! I’d say that was a successful expedition!” Mint put her hands on her hips. “Imagine the amount of XP I got out of this!”

“Yea. Soooo much of the X…and the P.” Quinn yawned, rubbing their eyes to keep from falling asleep on the shattered ground. Mint immediately grew concerned. “You’re tired. When was the last time you slept?” Quinn shook their head, “I’m fine. Promise. Just…need a nap. Though I’m not planning napping here. Let’s get out.”

Mint nodded, “Alright.” She turned to the far wall and saw double doors also off their hinges, and the archway led to a staircase. “Ah, look! That seems like a way out!” Quinn followed her gaze and gave a tired smile. “Finally.”

The novice looked back at Quinn. “Okay, so, I have an idea that you might not like.”

“I’m too tired to care. Shoot.”

“I want to give you a piggyback ride.”

Quinn tilted their head, laying even more on the crystal ball. “…What’s a piggyback ride…?”

Mint let out an astonished gasp, “…Okay, now I need to give you a piggyback ride.”

She turned her back to them and crouched down, “Now what I need you to do is wrap your legs around my back. Then I can carry you out of here! None of that pesky walking can get you down!”

“Ooooooh…Those are called piggyback rides?” Quinn asked, walking a bit closer to her. “That’s too cute of a name…Usually heroes carry the mortally injured like this, yea?” Mint raised their eyebrows in agreement, though she didn’t like that morbid fact, “That’s true, sometimes, but I call them piggyback rides. Used to give these to my brothers all the time.” 

“Your brothers were mortally injured?”

“Oh, no no no no. It was just for fun. Now come on, get on already!”

Quinn awkwardly settled their skinny legs around Mint’s pretty thick torso. “I don’t see how carrying people can be fun for you,” they state as they wrap their arms around her neck. 

Mint huffed before lifting the smaller one up; she let out a hearty laugh. “It is fun! At least for me!” Before she could set a single step forward, Quinn asked “Why?”

She stopped, her face contemplative, “…I dunno. It just feels comforting. Like…Like I’m back at home with my family.”

Quinn felt a small pit form in their empty stomach.

Even though Mint couldn’t see them well at the moment, she could sense their change of mood. “…Let’s…Let’s get back home. We can bake cookies at Sylvia’s house. Maybe even a few more treats to spice things up. Okay?”

“…Yea.”

With new resolve, Mint held Quinn’s legs and began trotting up out of the greenhouse. Boxer followed along, now floating beside the two.

It felt…oddly nice. The subtle movement of Mint adapting to their surroundings, as if their body was being rocked, Quinn felt this odd sense of peace. Their platinum head landed on Mint’s shoulder; their eyes began to droop.

She felt the hair tickle her nose a bit, but she still managed to find a way outside the castle. It was easier than she expected, at the top of the stairs there was literally a large hole in the wall that led outside. Surprisingly, the storm began to calm. It was only drizzling. The sky was still gray, but sunlight poked through the darkness here or there.

“Mint! How in goodness’ name did you get here?”

Baptiste; and behind him was Xid and Corsac. Mint beamed, “Hey guys!”

Corsac waved to her silently, giving a greeting nod. Xid’s mimic immediately gravitated towards Boxer, and they took the time to acclimate to each other as the bard greeted Mint. “Woah. Is that Quinn? I didn’t think they were the type to go on trips with you.”

“They still kinda aren’t but, uhm…” she awkwardly smirked, “It’s a long story.”

The mimics have done their introductions; they were officially passable. The animals returned to their respective caretakers, and Xid readied her guitar, “Well, we were just about done here if you guys need help getting back.”

“Oh, perfect! Thanks!” Mint made her way into the party, with Quinn as a dubiously unwilling extra member. The nobleman walked alongside the strange duo, “You said that it was a long story, yes? Well, no time like the present! Tell us about your strange venture as we walk!”

Mint’s eyes shone once again, “I have so much to tell you! You wouldn’t believe what we found!”

Quinn had a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Quinn woke up to the smell of baked sugar. They were confused, but not entirely opposed to it.

Their ears caught up to them next, and they heard a cacophony of voices. That they were opposed to. 

Quinn’s body began to slowly get circulation, from their shoulders, to their arms, to their legs, to their feet. Eventually, they managed to lift up their upper body to roll their neck. The cracks in their body allowed them to wake up faster, and a yawn finally escaped. The other people in the area immediately hushed. “Good morning Quinn!”

They opened their eyes; it was clearly late in the evening. In front of them was Mint, holding a plate of cookies. As soon as the smell of tentacle chocolate and peanut butter wafted their senses, they grabbed three of them with their large palms. One by one the treats were chucked in Quinn’s mouth. All three were devoured in moments, and they were now almost fully awake.

Mint smiled brightly, “Awh. I’m glad you like them!”

Quinn nodded, swallowing the last bit of the cookie, and then they took the time to fully look around. “…We’re in Sylvia’s shop?” 

Suddenly, a familiar weight plopped onto their head. It was their hat. The hat they left in the forest. The hat they left in the forest when they fell into a vortex that very well could have led to their death or worse. A voice sounded behind them, “Hiya blightroach.”

Quinn blushed, “Hey Sylvia.”

The third wheel placed the cookie platter on the counter behind Quinn, which made them realize that they were on the pull-out bed that Saffron installed a couple weeks ago. “Well, it was nice while it lasted, but I gotta head out. Break ends tomorrow and I gotta rest up early. The rest of the cookies are freshly baked just for you, Quinn!” Mint cheerfully grabbed her satchel and wrapped it around herself before heading out the door, “Be seeing you, Sylvia!”

The potion merchant cheerfully waved, “Later, Mint!”

The bell rang, the door closed, and Quinn and Sylvia were alone.

Sylvia walked around the counter and kneeled down so that she was eye level with Quinn. She had a look that they could probably read.

“…You’re mad at me, yea?”

Sylvia nodded, “Mhm!” 

“Mint told you everything?”

“Yup.”

“Including the part where I…almost lost myself to the unknown to get my mimic back?”

“Ya.”

Quinn’s eyes became downcast. Somehow Sylvia’s happy mask made the whole confrontation worse. They felt Boxer snoring underneath the counter; he probably was tired after today too.

Sylvia finally put off her mask and changed her face into something more concerned. “Quinn, why didn’t you call for help when you needed it?”

“That’s the thing, Sylvia. I didn’t need it,” Quinn crossed their arms, “I handled it just fine on my own.”

“But you were exhausted! Mint had to carry you the entire way back and you didn’t even stir!” 

“Sylvia, you know I sleep like the dead. I just didn’t sleep last night, that’s all. It’s happened before.”

“I don’t care if it’s happened before, that’s not okay! You need rest!” Her voice was raised. Quinn wasn’t used to seeing her like this; with her voice this loud.

“Okay, fine, I need to sleep more, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave Boxer there!” Quinn argued.

Sylvia rubbed her hands over her face, “I get it, but you can’t just throw your life away so quickly like that. You didn’t know what would happen when you crawled through there!”

Quinn rolled their eyes, “I heard his barks on the other side. He sounded safe so I assumed that I would be too, I didn’t just blindly follow him. I’m not an idiot!”

She sighed, “I didn’t say you were an idiot. I’m just saying you need to be more careful.”

“I will! I will…” Quinn raised their hands in front of them as they said this, though they truly didn’t really share her sentiments. They just wanted this stupid argument to stop.

“Quinn,” Sylvia held their hands, gently caressing them, “Look me in the eyes. Please?”

The smaller one obeyed. Sylvia didn’t look angry, she just looked deeply and entirely worried. Quinn wasn’t used to being looked at this way. It frightened them.

“Quinn…I didn’t mean to scare you. I just- I just want you to not be so easy to throw your all into something that might get you hurt. If- if that makes sense,” Sylvia lowered her head, “I-I’m…not good at this type of stuff, if you couldn’t tell.”

Quinn found themself gently rubbing her knuckles, but the texture of her gloves annoyed them, so they took the liberty of taking them off. “It’s fine…”

Was it fine…?

Sylvia shook her head. “No, Quinn. Don’t tell me it’s just ‘fine.’ That’s how I can tell it’s not fine.”

They narrowed their eyes in confusion, “W-Well what do you want me to say?”

“Tell me how you’re feeling. Honestly.” 

Quinn stayed silent for a while. They squeezed her palms, concerned with figuring out what to say and how to say it.

They sighed, “…I…I’m tired. N-Not really in the literal sense but…arguing is exhausting. I know it sounds like I’m trying to take the coward’s way out, but…I dunno.”

Sylvia listened intently. The glow from Combustopher warmed Quinn’s back. “…Losing the argument just seems like the easiest way out.”

“…Quinn,” Sylvia bemoaned, her eyebrows dropping, “An argument isn’t about who wins or who loses. It’s about finding the issue and resolving it. Now, I’ll admit, we let our emotions get to us for a bit there, but that’s not the point. We aren’t supposed to exhaust each other until one of us wins; that’s unhealthy.”

Strange. That’s all Quinn has ever known.

“Listen,” she sat down next to them on the bed, Quinn turning so that they were still facing her. “…At the end of the day, I just want what’s best for you. Frankly, you don’t have to take my advice, at least not entirely. I’m just bringing up some suggestions. Like…you could manage your rem cycle more. It’s, like, unbelievably jacked up right now.”

The insomniac shrugged in slight agreement. Sylvia intertwined their fingers, “Now…do you have any suggestions for me? Do I have stuff I can improve on?”

That was a tougher question than Quinn expected. As a girlfriend, Sylvia was practically perfect. They didn’t want to take down her entire character. But…if they really needed to nitpick…

“…You could lower your prices a bit.”

“Quinn-“ Sylvia sighed, slumping her shoulders. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m too tired to think.” That was half a lie. “I dunno, you could…not yell so loudly, I guess?”

Surprisingly, the redhead nodded, “Okay! I can work on that! No problem.”

“What? You serious? It wasn’t even that loud, you don’t have to-“

“It startled you,” Sylvia said, rubbing their arm, “I don’t want to scare you like that again.” Quinn lowered themself to lay on their back, taking their hat off so they could relax on one of the pillows. It was surprisingly comfortable; then again, they’re used to sleeping on a stick. “Real sweet of you…Sometimes I worry you overcompensate.”

“Really?” She asked as she laid down next to them. Quinn turned to face her, they noticed how her hair poked out from where it was tied, “Nah, not really. I have to recognize it’s just basic human decency.”

The tallest took her ponytail out and placed the scrunchie around her now bare wrist. Gods…her hair was stunning when freed, it glowed like phoenix feathers. Sylvia reached over to grab one of the cookies to eat, which prompted Quinn to do the same. “You know if you get crumbs on this bed, you’ll probably get bed bugs, right?” They took a bite of their treat.

“You really think I care? I ate ramen on this bed before,” she admitted before eating her own cookie, a hum coming out of her mouth as she did so.

The two sat there, talking about random things and happenings going on as they ate their treats, until finally the entire plate was gone. Quinn moped, “Hmph.”

Sylvia was also dispirited at the loss of their sweet little pieces of bliss, “Well…it was nice while it lasted.”

The two were once again laying side by side. Combustopher was beginning to wane down as he got sleepy, however his light never truly went out. A small dim illuminated Sylvia’s back wonderfully. Quinn’s gold eye was still as bright as ever in the darkness. 

“Quinn…I have something to announce.”

“Why? You’re not expecting are y-“

“NO! No no no! Hell no!” Sylvia panickally swung her arms at the revolting thought, which caused Quinn to laugh. She eventually calmed herself and gulped, “What I was going to say was that I have been working on my form lately.”

“Your form…?” Quinn repeated.

“My athletic form, to be specific.”

The lanky one noticed, the way her back looked in the dress she wore that special night got their mind abuzz with things that would probably make Roxanne very proud. “What for?”

“Well…” She rubbed her neck, “I was thinking about…learning how to forage my own ingredients.”

Quinn looked at her, stunned, “R-Really? Like with the Heroes’ Guild?”

Sylvia poked at her cheek, “Well, I’m not doing hero work, per se, but I am technically adventuring. Or beginning to adventure. Oswald’s gonna show me the ropes first before I get to the real deal.”

“But aren’t you afraid that you’re gonna turn into a toad or a ferret or something?”

“Nah. I think my potions are stronger than any of those kinda curses. I just have to stay far away from Maven’s castle and I’ll be golden!”

Quinn bit their own cheek, “I hope you’re right.”

Sylvia looked at them with big eyes, “Awh. Are you…Are you worried about me?”

“No!” The introvert immediately grabbed their hat and shielded their blush from her gaze.

Turns out Silverfish has learned a few tricks from Quinn, because she immediately began poking at their exposed belly. “You’re worried about me! Admit it. You don’t want me to get hurt by big scawy monstews!”

“Shut up!” Quinn yelped as they reached out for Sylvia, which was stronger than they intended, and suddenly they were on top of her.

Sylvia blinked. Quinn attempted to look unphased. “Shut up, hypocrite.”

She softened her look and gave a smirk. “Make me, lovebug.”

Quinn accepted the challenge, and gave her an eager kiss.

Oswald had a delivery, so he wasn’t expected to return home until the morning. The rest of the night became a blur.

—

Spending the night at Sylvia’s was much better than Quinn had predicted. For one, they actually got to sleep on a bed, a luxury that they rarely had the energy or funds or reputation to afford. Sylvia being there automatically made the experience at least ten times better; her body heated up like a piece of magma when she was asleep. And Quinn awoke to Sylvia bringing home two bowls of fresh ramen that they got from the place down the street. Ramen for breakfast was surprisingly very heartening.

After a quiet morning together, Sylvia had to gently kick Quinn out to get started on her shift. A secret goodbye kiss later, and the psychic was on their way to the kraken skeleton. Finally they could get this show on the road.

It was as dark as can be, without a single guard in sight. Despite stepping into the maw of a deadly sea creature the size of an entire peninsula, Quinn couldn’t help but form a little pep in their step as they walked inside. Though when they got surrounded by the darkness of the skull, they decided that being peppy wasn’t very evil and mysterious looking. So they sorted themself.

As expected, Maven was there, sitting on his shoulder, with Robin holding a lantern less like someone resting in the dark and more like a lamppost. The lizard looked nonchalant, looking over her nails, before she heard Quinn walk up. “Quinn…do you have a last name?”

The budding apprentice shook their head, “Nah. They’re overrated. There’s only one me, yea?”

Maven gave a nod, “Respectable. I assume you have the ingredients for me.”

“‘Course. What do you take me for?” Quinn motioned for Boxer to float over and gently scratched his top. Maven looked into the opened chest and saw all three of those precious orchids; completely unharmed, as flawless as she left them. Her many fangs shone as she smiled, “Good~”

Quinn grinned alongside her, feeling their cold dead heart warm. “Had to walk through one of those vortexes to get to your lab.”

“Oh! Those still work?” Maven widened her vibrant eyes, “I tell you, those vortexes were very convenient for travel back in the day.”

“So they are safe to go through?” Quinn asked. The yellow gecko shrugged, “More or less, the most it could do is maybe short term brain damage or something. But my servants certainly wouldn't care. They had to go do my errands as quickly as possible, and I’m an impatient woman. So I had to get creative.” She ran a hand through her slick head, a bragging air forming, “It just so happens that that particular dimension was great for cultivating my very special brand of orchids.”

Quinn made themself comfortable by crossing their legs and sitting down in front of the light, the orange glow illuminating their face. “Can I ask you something, Maven?”

Maven chose to ignore them. They grimaced. Great.

“…Your Majesty?”

The queen perked up, “Oh, ask away my child.” Quinn was tempted to roll their eyes but had to strain themself, “How did you find those flowers in the first place? I mean, if I were to go flower arranging, another dimension isn’t a place I would normally search.”

Her Majesty let out a surprisingly elegant guffaw, “It was simply a normal day in my lab, I was figuring out the secrets of the world; the universe, even. And I just so happened to stumble the exact right amount of potions, spells, and sacrifices to create a vortex. Then, one vortex turned to a dozen, then a dozen turned into ten dozen…you get the picture. Of course, since I’m the one who took the time and work to discover such a lovely specimen, it had to be named after my likeness.”

The forager laid their head down on their hand, listening intently. “Can I ask why you want all these special orchids so badly? What are you planning to do with them…?”

Maven is silent.

“…Your Highness.”

“Oh, just a little experiment I want to conduct. You can join me if you wish to-“

A yawn was heard; not from either of the witches. Robin rubbed his eye, dropping the lantern. “…It’s so dark…Is it over…?”

That voice…it sounded so innocent.

Maven growled and then went back to her place on Robin’s shoulder. She whispered something to him, Quinn wasn’t able to hear her. Even if they were, they didn’t think they’d want to overhear. Eventually, the boy fell asleep again, and soon awoke to a start once Maven took over. “Ah. I suppose that’s my cue to get a move on. I meant to give you something.”

The vessel reached into his coat pocket and held out an obsidian envelope. It had a wax seal portraying a purple crystal. Quinn gently took the message in their hands.

“Don’t open it until the coast is clear. I think it’s best that we leave the kraken at different times. No one will suspect us,” the queen got up with her puppet in tow, “It will be our little secret.” Robin chuckled, Quinn nodded back. The pit in their stomach grew larger.

The hero bowed his head, “Have a pleasant day, Quinn.”

The queen left, and Quinn sat there, alone with their thoughts, the lantern still on the sand. It started to dim as the apprentice clenched the letter between their palms.

—

Corsac was doing his weekly check in on the snapping turtles on the beach. It was turning into the middle of summer, so there were bound to be plenty of tourists eager to litter and leave their mark in the most disgusting way possible. The environmentalist made sure to put down new flags for the egg pits, fix the flags that have fallen over due to time, as well as remove the flags from holes that didn’t need them anymore. Of course, he knew that it was in a human’s nature to seek relief from the heat by visiting the world’s most refreshing pool, Corsac just wished that they took the time to focus on their surroundings.

He liked to do this in the morning, since the worst of the traffic came during the afternoon, when the sun is at its brightest. The chill was a great relief for his skin, which was still hot from all the double and triple checking he had to make on the flags. His hat could only bring so much shade during this kind of weather. 

Corsac was about to start his quadruple check when his trained ears heard footsteps from his right. He turned; someone was walking out of the kraken skull. Corsac was stunned. Robin?

The cobalt warrior went out and tried to exit as quickly as he could, but he noticed that Corsac spotted him. Instead of acting afraid, or just simply running away from him, the blonde smiled and waved. His lizard stuck out its tongue.

The introvert waved back, now simply grateful that he didn’t have to speak any words to him. Robin quickly took his leave soon after.

Corsac rubbed his nose immediately after he exited, trying to prevent a sneeze from exiting. Robin always did have the strangest smell.

A few moments later, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gray figure fly away.

Chapter Text

The afternoon rush was always the busiest time of day for Sylvia. While it was, at times, extremely taxing dealing with so many customers, the payout was always huge. Oswald returned back to the shop by now, and was busy brewing the potions needed for the commissions. The crystal cauldron shone a bright jade as he brewed a masterwork stamina potion with good sight, smell, and taste. The commissioners became more and more picky as time went on.

“Come again,” Sylvia called out as a customer went out the door, only to be followed by Corsac. It was surprising, she doesn’t normally see the wilderness expert exploring the vast city by his lonesome. Nevertheless, she welcomed him, “Hey Corsac! How are you?”

“Decent. All things considered,” Corsac timidly went to the front desk, noticing Oswald. The uncle looked up from his hard work at the cauldron, and he simply waved to the adventurer. “Greetings, adventurer.”

“Yes. Indeed. Quite.” The relationship between him and Oswald became a bit awkward after the fact that he was Sylvia’s pet owl for months was revealed. Corsac didn’t have the heart to tell him that he still smelled of potent owl musk, and it was extremely noticeable every time he walked in this shop.

Sylvia pulled out her tablet and wrote some things down with her stylus, “So what do you need? Something specific?”

Corsac rubbed the tip of his hat, “Yes. Masterwork Mana potions to be exact. However, I also came to report some findings…”

The potion seller cheerfully wrote down the order and flipped her pen back into her hair, “What’s up?”

The customer crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep. His dark eyes were downcast. “Did…Did everyone else know that Robin was back in town?”

Sylvia swore she heard one of her potions break. Or…maybe that was just her sense of security.

“W-What…?”

Oswald looked up from his cauldron, cursing at the broken glass bottle on the floor, begrudgingly grabbing a broom, “That pretty boy? I never thought he’d show his face again after that embarrassing defeat. Would like to note that I was right about him, by the by.”

Sylvia couldn’t argue. Not that she’d want to, but she was too busy trying not to have a heart attack. If Robin was here…Maven was here. She’s back; and she’d probably want revenge. Or more power. Or another puppet. Or a farm of corpses, or something!

Corsac looked up, “So it isn’t something everyone knows. I just wanted to ask because…I tend to be behind on news.”

Once all the broken shards were thrown away into Combustopher, Oswald went to the counter, “Do Baptiste and the rest of the adventurer's guild know?”

“I’m unsure. I haven’t told them in case Robin wanted privacy. Gossip in the guild hall tends to spread like wildfire,” Corsac explained.

Sylvia was still having an internal crisis when her uncle continued, “Well, we sure won’t be tempted to bother him, that’s for sure. Thank you for letting us know.”

With a tip of his hat and a muttered farewell, Corsac made his leave. It was when the front door closed that Oswald managed to notice Sylvia staring off into space. “Oh dear…you’re having an existential crisis again.”

The niece shook her head, “N-No. I’m fine, Oswald.”

Since neither of them saw any more customers coming, Oswald sat in the worn chair, one leg over the other. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sylvia. By any chance you actually got to have a conversation with him, which I doubt…did you ever find out what Robin intended to do with the Mavenbloom?”

And there goes the rest of Sylvia’s soul. Shattered.

She sighed, pinching her nose. Well…she guessed it was time to rip off the bandaid. “…If I tell you this, don’t go telling everyone about it. Or…anyone, ever, about it.”

Oswald gave a curt nod, “Of course.”

Sylvia finally turned to Oswald, taking a deep breath. “So umm…Maven is…Mae. That weird lizard always on Robin’s shoulder? That’s the witch queen. She kinda sorta threatened to take over Rafta again once she had the Mavenbloom and was able to turn back into a human. And when I defeated her, she wiped everyone’s memories so that she could stay anonymous. Also, Robin- um, isn’t actually Robin. He’s- He’s also Maven. He’s been possessed by her for twenty years and still has the mind of a child that survived the war. Maven also sorta swore revenge on me when she lost.”

Oswald blinked.

Sylvia blinked back.

Pretty sure Combustopher blinked too.

“…Well…” Oswald sipped on the flask that he insisted contained water, “…that…could be better…”

—

Quinn wasn’t so much a holiday person. Well, they were, but their idea of wholesome decoration and tradition was a bit out there, even for Rafta. But this moment, the moment where Quinn could finally open the letter, all alone in the comfort of their own broom, it felt like the holidays. In a sort of dark and twisted sense of the term.

Triple checking to see if no one was approaching them, Quinn gently picked off the wax seal, which they saved in Boxer’s mouth. Finally, they poured out the contents…or the only content. It was a letter, in black paper, which when unfolded was revealed to have white calligraphy on it.

The recipient had to pull out their reading glasses this time, which were practically flawless from its lack of use, which made cleaning less of a pain. Quinn put their black rimmed spectacles on and finally read Maven’s message.

My apprentice,

I have heard of you throughout my years as Robin. Started off as an oracle to the Heroes Guild in the continent. You were no more than a teenager when you first arrived here, correct? And now have grown into your own demented being. To most, you are simply considered an arsonist who had no right being here, to some you are only good for your skills as a vendor, selling ingredients and fortunes to everyone and everything. However, you now can welcome a new persona. The Witch Queen’s apprentice. That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

They smiled; it did.

Now, while my beloved kraken’s skull is a place I will remember fondly, I believe it is time we switch our meetings someplace else. You have been to Dragon’s Oasis, have you? Meet me in one of the caverns tomorrow night. You will know where to find me, I’m sure. You’re a smart child.

Don’t disappoint me.

• Maven.

P.S: I was thinking of giving you a code name in case people eavesdrop. Even the flora and fauna have ears sometimes. Your eyes shine like the beginning and ending of the brightest fire, and your hair is like ash. Cinder is a good name for you. Don’t you agree?

Quinn closed up the letter and held it to their chest.

Cinder…? In a fire type of context it sounds kinda badass, but…they needed to think on it.

They felt…weird. They are extremely excited, ecstatic, absolutely brimming with joy. But they also feel seedy; the bad kind, the kind where they feel like they are deliberately going against their friends and stabbing them in the back. To the outside perspective, Quinn did; but they have already let out the clause that Maven wouldn’t hurt them. Therefore, Rafta is safe from her wickedness. They’re sure of it.

Maven is only Quinn’s teacher; that’s it. The relationship wouldn’t have formed if Quinn knew that their partnership would result in people getting hurt. While yea, playing with fire is fun, but they always did it when no one else was around. They liked watching the flame lick and melt away wood, paper, and other materials, the red getting bigger and brighter until finally it cooled down and the object became a shell of its former self. It was immensely satisfying. But all of the fun and games lost its luster when injuries were involved.

Quinn bit their cheek; they had to be careful here. Maven is only a teacher; teachers are harmless, and this time the classes she taught weren't going to be boring as hell. They also supposed that she couldn’t really do much anyway due to her magic crystal being depleted, all of her twenty years of obtaining magical energy were wasted with a single memory wipe. It didn’t even work the way she intended.

How could they pass this opportunity up? To train under the best clairvoyant in existence; to be more. Sylvia would understand…right?

Quinn will be fine. Rafta will be fine.

The sun had almost completely set, and the apprentice laid on their back and stared into the color changing sky. Orange, then pink, then purple, then blue. With Boxer on their chest, and with hope in their mind, Quinn closed their eyes and slept.

—

Nearly everyone was confused on why they were here. Xidriel, Mint, Baptiste, and Corsac were summoned by Sylvia to have a hangout in her shop. That was relatively normal, until the party saw that the shelves became tables and that dusty chair was placed in the far end, with Sylvia sitting there, hands folded in front of her. Oswald was sitting next to her, tapping his fingers on the wood and looking at them all.

Sylvia looked…not the best, to put lightly. Her eyes had bags under them, her hair was frazzled, and she looked at the heroes in a strange sort of fear. The visitors took their seats, all looking at each other, not sure what to say. Xid spoke up first, “Syl…you alright there, bud?”

The frazzled woman rubbed her hand behind her head, “Wish I was, Xid. Wish I was.”

“You wanna talk about it…?” The bard offered. 

“Mhm. Eventually."

Oswald sighed, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder. His hazel eyes were downcast, “Sylvia wished to speak with you all about an important matter. It’s a sort of heavy subject for her, so she needs some time to gain some composure.”

Mint bobbed her head in understanding, “Take your time, Sylvia.”

Baptiste worriedly twiddled his thumbs, looking at his friend with concern. Corsac had his arms crossed, scanning the room seeing all the anxious faces only making him more anxious. At least his slimes were here, in a high windowsill where they got all the sun they needed.

After a few excruciating moments, the potion seller finally spoke up. “So…I’m assuming you all know who Robin is, right?”

That immediately grabbed the heroes’ attention. “Why, yes! He’s only the most popular hero of our generation! Why do you ask?”

Baptiste’s enthusiasm really didn’t help matters. Sylvia took a deep breath, “You guys also know Maven too, don’t you?”

“Ah, that blasted witch,” Baptiste growled, "I swear, she-"

“Baptiste-“ Corsac placed a hand on the noble’s forearm, “I think Sylvia’s trying to say something.” Baptiste, now feeling a pang of guilt, stopped himself from speaking any further, and Sylvia gave a small smile to them both in appreciation.

She continued, “Well…Robin was my final opponent in the competition. He wanted the Mavenbloom. He even offered me all the prize money for it. But, y’know…Oswald was still ‘Owl’ back then; I couldn’t just give up that ingredient.” The previously cursed man thinned his lips at the memory.

“Robin and I fought at the competition. I was just about to win via the Shadow Tonic section- And yes. I know I didn’t win during the Shadow Tonic section.”

Baptiste lowered the hand he was just about to raise.

The champion sighed, “I know that’s confusing. But that’s because there’s something that happened during that battle. Something…that’s kind of a huge deal.”

By this point, all of the heroes are listening intently, now leaning forward in their seats. All of their genuine care gave Sylvia more courage, and she took a deep inhale.

“…You know Mae, right? The lizard that’s always on Robin’s shoulder? Well, uhh…what happened to Oswald…also happened to her. That being turned into a lizard.”

Oswald handed Sylvia his flask and she took one sip. Yup, definitely water. Totally water. “…That lizard was Maven. Is Maven. She got cursed when her castle exploded.”

Sylvia expected disbelief, a couple of laughs, maybe even some genuine anger. But all she got was…realization. Mint let out a nervous kind of laughter, “Wow. Umm…That kinda sorta does make sense in hindsight, huh?” Xidriel grimaced and held her hood, Corsac looked down and held himself, and Baptiste was slowly but surely figuring out the complicated puzzle in his head, until eventually all of the pieces clicked together.

Oswald once again patted her shoulder, causing her to continue the explanation. “Now, you might be wondering, why would Robin work with her? The Witch Queen? The one he was set to destroy?” Sylvia took another sip of the flask; this fact of the story was still hard to swallow. “Well…Maven possessed him when he was a child. Used every little bit of magic she had left and took the role of Robin; Hero of Rafta. In Robin’s real mind…he’s still that little boy.”

Corsac and Xid clenched their fists in anger; Mint and Baptiste simply looked sad. Sylvia couldn’t blame any of them. “I know, I’m angry too. But, I defeated her…I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. I took the Mavenbloom and she and Robin left Rafta for good…or so I thought.”

“Huh?” Baptiste looked up. Mint and Xidriel exchanged looks at each other, completely perplexed. Corsac coughed; everyone turned to him. “…I spotted Robin at the beach this morning. He was at the Kraken carcass. The lizard was also there…I could smell her magical stench from a mile away.”

Sylvia nodded, fiddling with her gloves, “You all witnessed the battle, but Maven used a memory spell to wipe everyone’s memory of what they saw. Hence why I got too stressed to function on the Shadow Tonic portion.” 

The guildmaster ran a hand through his hair, “No…that can’t be! I should’ve known by now. How could he just go under our radar like that? It’s impossible!”

“…Not for Maven, I guess,” Xid grumbled as she rolled her eyes. “And she revealed herself in front of the entire crowd too? Such a diva!” 

Mint grumbled, “I know! And then to wipe everyone’s memories?! Just to mess with you?! How cowardly can one witch be!” Corsac looked at Mint and put a finger to his mouth, “Watch your volume. I think the slimes are trying to sleep.” The environmentalist pointed at the row of slimes peacefully dozing off along the shelf.

Her friend’s personality cheered up Sylvia a bit; her eyes shone brighter, and she rolled back her shoulders. “I know. The least you could’ve done is wreck some havoc or something, not give me psychological torture.” Oswald awkwardly twirled his mustache, “You know…I think it’s best that havoc is out of the picture.”

“We must do something!” Mint exclaimed, minding his volume due to Corsac’s warning, “We are the Heroes’ Guild. Our entire livelihood is dedicated to taking down evil.”

Baptiste looked downcast, “I’m…afraid that’s not entirely how we should handle this predicament.” Xid and Mint look confused. “What do you mean, Bap?” Xid asked.

The guildmaster changed his posture, “Legally, we cannot just arrest Robin on what to the outside perspective is pure speculation. We have little to no proof, and without Robin’s consent we cannot do a magical search or purge on his person or his residence. Now, would it be fun to take down the witch queen again? Yes! Would I adore witnessing such a menace’s demise with my own two eyes? Absolutely! But…” he bit his lip, “…I’m afraid we have to think logically about this rather than going in head first and risk the entirety of the guild’s reputation.”

The heroes all nodded in agreement, but then Xid perked up. “Hey, Syl. You were planning to get into hero work, weren’t you?”

Sylvia immediately put her hands in front of her, “No no no, not hero. Just a forager. Just the basics to get my own ingredients. I’m not an adventurer type.”

Her friends glanced at each other and finally back at her. “Well, you did save us from the ultimate evil,” Mint stated, smiling from ear to ear, “I think that makes you a hero in my book!”

Oswald raised a hand, “I second that notion.”

Baptiste shot up his arm, “Third!”

Xid pulled up two fingers, “Fourth.”

Corsac tipped his hat and raised a finger, “Fifth.”

The heroine felt her eyes grow wet, “Y-You guys…” Sylvia let out a laugh, “I-I didn’t think you guys would even believe me! And now you’re calling me a hero all of a sudden.”

“Not ‘all of a sudden’, dear niece,” Oswald squeezed her shoulder again, “You have spent those five weeks mastering your craft to save a poor old man’s dream. You even fought your hardest to help him with a cure to his ailment, even though you could’ve taken the easy way out. Even if I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t beat those competitors solely to save the shop or your reputation, but for the greater good of Rafta; for the sake of it being the right thing to do.”

“Oswald…” Sylvia muttered, “…I just did what anyone else would do-“

“No. Anyone else would’ve taken the money and let that cheating, conniving, corporate rascal take the Mavenbloom and run. But you didn’t.”

Sylvia finally decided to tame her frazzled hair by untying and retying her ponytail. “Is morality really that low for me doing the bare minimum? I’m just a potions witch, it’s not like I’m the chosen one or anything.”

Xid frowned, “Come on, Syl, don’t doubt yourself.” Mint agreed, “Right! Chosen ones are so overrated! The biggest ego, too!” 

Sylvia wanted to argue until the sun went down, but seeing her companions’ expressions, their hope and their pride, she couldn’t break it to them that she was just a regular potion witch and nothing more. But…these are the cards that have been dealt, she supposed. Now she just has to play with her deck.

“…Thanks, guys. You’re all the best. I couldn’t ask for a better party.”

“You’re welcome,” Corsac grinned, “But, may I ask…why is there only us? You do have more friends, do you?”

Oswald and Sylvia shared a nervous glance before the elder replied. “Well, we wanted to keep this as confidential as possible, for one, and we wanted to confide in actual adventurers, people who might know exactly how to deal with evil queens coming back from the dead.”

Baptiste got eyes from the rest of the party on him, and he puffed out his chest, “Well, the best course of action, in my humble opinion, is to gain as much evidence as possible and figure out what exactly Maven is planning before we go ahead with attempting to take her down. Corsac, where did you see Robin last, again?”

“I saw him near the kraken skeleton. He seemed to be exiting out of it.”

“Maven went inside her dead pet’s carcass?” Sylvia shivered, “Why?”

Corsac shrugged, “Unsure. There’s probably something in there that she wants to hide.”

“So, the first quest is to check out the kraken and see what’s inside,” Mint wrote it down in her binder, “Sounds fun, if not a little bit terrifying.”

“That’s…not what I would call ‘fun’, per se, but I guess I just have to get used to this adventurer stuff now,” Sylvia sighed, pulling her stylus out of her hair. In all of her years of studying potionomics, she never expected that she would write down ‘Visit Kraken Skeleton for Maven Clues’ on her calendar one day. Next to the reminder, she made sure to draw a headshot of Lizard-Maven with an angry face for good measure. 

“So we should probably head here tomorrow, to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible,” Sylvia suggested, to which everyone else nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, bubbling could be heard behind the group; one of the cauldrons was finished brewing. Oswald shot up and went to bottle up the elixirs in the bottles. “I think I should stay back here and take care of the shop.”

Sylvia raised a brow, “W-Wait, Oswald, don’t you wanna come with? You’re the one who planted this foraging idea into my head in the first place.” He sighed as he slowly emptied the crystal cauldron, one bottle at a time. “Someone has to take care of the shop while this nonsense is happening, don’t want to raise suspicion and all that. Also…frankly, I don’t wish to cross Maven’s path again.”

Oswald’s niece hung her head, but gave a bow of her head, “Understandable.”

“Don’t worry about me. I now have two arms, two legs, and no beak; I am happy as I can be, Sylvia.”

Sylvia soon enough got up from her belovedly moldy chair, and turned back. “I think we should all head to the ice cream shop to get a treat after all this,” she turned back to her uncle, smirking. “Want anything, coward?”

Oswald stammered, not expecting her usual wit to come back this soon, “I-It’s not cowardly! I have a business to run, and you do too, young lady!”

As the rest of the party went outside the shop, eagerly waiting for their new companion, Sylvia chirped at him until she too was finally out the door, “Later, chicken!”

The bell rang, the door swung closed, and Oswald was relieved to see Sylvia back to her old self.

—

It was dark in this tower. The lights haven’t worked in ages, and the gloomy atmosphere barely helped matters. But Maven still liked this place. No one can get in, or out. Only her special little vortex was the entrance to this place, and only she knew where the passage ends and begins.

Her crystal ball was there. Shattered, barely held together, but it was still there. She carried two of the pieces everywhere with her, as holding up the entire thing would be suspicious, plus it would fall apart if so much as a gentle breeze touched it. Robin gave Maven the height she needed to look at the vision through the cracks, staring at Sylvia and her pathetic band of heroes enjoying ice cream together.

“…Oh, you insolent upstart. There are no such things as heroes.”

The vision changed; Quinn was sleeping peacefully, their monocle perfectly capturing a little piece of the moon. The glass of the object was shining the light back at Maven. Taunting her. The queen grazed a claw across her globe, eyes reflecting the grays and golds on what and who was rightfully hers.

“You’ll see soon enough, little Cinderella.”

Chapter Text

Getting to the Kraken skull was much harder than Corsac made it seem. There was a small body of water that separated the bones from the beach; as it probably should be, but because most of the newly formed party didn’t have brooms or any other mode of above water transportation, it was rather a pain in the neck. The crew had to take turns on Sylvia’s broom, to which she can only fit one person per trip. The guard had to be told by Baptiste that they were having due to Witchfall coming up, so they had a cookout at the guildhall. It was surprisingly true, the heroes at the hall always had a barbecue of their greatest slays every Thursday.

One by one, each hero got over the kraken, with Sylvia’s help. Xid was the final one to be brought over, and when the two women landed on the sand inside the entrance, the witch was finally able to put her broom away. She was exhausted, the summer heat didn’t help matters as sweat stuck her hair to her brow. “Ugh…”

But luckily, Corsac and Mint were practically the parents of the group, so they always brought a bottle of water, and Sylvia brought a fire resistance potion just in case the sun was really pissed off today. Sylvia gulped down her water as the other heroes began looking around the darkness of the skull.

Mint led the party with a lantern, “It’s so dark in here! What could Maven possibly be doing in this type of place?” Baptiste followed behind, using his own light cantrip, “Who knows? Maybe she mourns her pet from inside of its decaying body from time to time? I suppose that’s one way to grieve, for an evil queen.”

Sylvia followed the rest of the party inside, using her own wand as a light source. This place was huge; about the size of a mansion, or about five times the size of her shop. Water dripped from the little cracks in the bone, and the wet sand beneath her shoes didn’t help reassure the young adventurer much. “You guys find anything yet?”

“No,” replied Corsac, “But I do see footprints. Step back.” Through the dark, Sylvia could see the vague silhouette of Corsac holding his arm up to block everyone’s path. He then pulled out pieces of rope and some rods and began doing…something. Sylvia couldn’t see much because she was in the back of the group, and Baptiste and Xid are quite tall.

Eventually, Corsac gave them all the okay to spread out, and Sylvia was finally able to see what he did. It was sort of like a preservation of wildlife, like the turtles on the beach being marked by flags, except this was a four point barrier, with rope blocking from entry. The entire space was about four feet long and wide, and it showed two types of shoe sizes. Since this was at the very back of the skull, the seawater didn’t contaminate the prints, thus allowing a vague interpretation of the soles to be seen.

Come to think of it, it looked more like a crime scene than anything, though usually the barrier isn’t as environmentally conscious.

Corsac looked over the rope, sniffing over the marks and tasting the air. “Anything yet?” Xid questioned, crouching next to the fence. The nature enthusiast sniffed one more time and finally fiddled with the rim of his cap. “Well, there is certainly Robin’s smell. That being a large surge of magic combined with a woodsy cologne. But…there’s something else.”

Mint raised a brow, but then noticed something in the area of interest. There was another pair of feet; much smaller, but looked unique; not the type of shoes that are found in any store. “Another person…?”

Corsac made a grunt of confirmation, “This other person I can’t really describe the smell of. There is magic on this person, for sure, and it sort of masks all the other scents, but there are hints of…everything, really.”

“…Everything?” Sylvia repeated.

“Yea. No other way to describe it. I get hints of flora and dirt and…saliva for some reason. But they’re all so muddled together and there are so many of them that I can’t pinpoint one smell.”

Baptiste frowned, “So there’s almost no way we can track down this mystery person?”

Corsac crossed his arms, “Well, it’s not impossible. The shoe size is unique, most likely custom made. We could probably ask some shoemakers in the area and ask which customer fits the profile.”

Sylvia took a picture of the shoe with her tablet and put it under a folder she titled ‘Finding Creepy Stuff When Adventuring Vol. 1’.

“But why are there two people here…?” Sylvia thought aloud, “Does Maven have an accomplice…?”

Baptiste tapped his cheek while contemplating, “An accomplice? A victim? A rival? Who knows. But this story is certainly expanding by the second.”

Sylvia couldn’t agree more.

—

It really wasn’t good for business having the shop be closed for this long of a period. But once Quinn got their share of ingredients from this oasis, they’re sure they’ll get the cash they missed out on in no time. Dragon’s Oasis was certainly a good place for sweet magical ingredients, but it was never Quinn’s favorite. Dragons are awesome, but it was way too hot for them to enjoy themself whenever they had to forage here.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wallow in their sweat for too long, as through one of the many abandoned caverns and hordes in the more rocky parts of the area, there was one that was slightly different than the others. It held a small blip of light, a silver one.

Quinn carefully walked their way through, making sure there weren’t any stray remnants of what was supposedly a long dead dragon. It smelled of death, the ancient kind, the smell of a carcass being torn down to its literal bare bones after decades of being left unburied.

The light grew larger, and Quinn knew they were getting close. They turned a corner, with Boxer following behind them this time, and they spotted Maven.

She was on Robin, as usual, but he once again was only used as a lamppost. The surrounding area was fairly barren; there were one or two pieces of gold that they could see, and even fewer bones. This cave was picked clean, it seemed. Though Maven certainly seemed happy about it.

“Welcome,” the queen greeted, “I trust the trip here wasn’t filled with too many challenges.”

Quinn shook their head, though it was very obvious that their locks were still slick with sweat. “I’m fine. I gulped down a fire tonic before heading here.”

“Ah…usually most people who make it here get all kinds of third degree burns, but you’re basically unscathed. Just in need of a bath,” Maven said, with humor in her tone, “I assume that you get your potions from your partner?”

“Yea. Where else would I get them? Seems kind stupid not to use her services.”

“I suppose. I just hope her ego hasn’t gone too high.”

Quinn frowned, “She’s not like that.” Not like Maven, by a long shot.

“Well, only time and money will tell. Speaking of which, they intertwine. Come along, Cinder!” Maven scattered over behind Robin and Quinn followed her gaze, and found a cauldron set up. It was pretty huge, like two cauldrons in one, but it was old; the legs could barely hold up the thing, a rock had to be prompted up under one of them to make sure it didn’t tilt. 

The witch and her apprentice approached the cheap pot, which was completely empty, Quinn could practically hear their breath echoing out of it. “So, this is your excuse for a cauldron? You’re Robin. You can literally get anything you want.”

“Again, attempting to keep my profile hidden. Every blacksmith in the city is outside, where the public can gawk and gossip freely. I had to salvage what I could from my old shop,” Maven groaned, “Apparently, good boy Baptiste decided it was a brilliant idea to donate all of the cauldrons once I closed my doors. The airhead decided to give instead of keep .”

Quinn tilted their head. They didn’t know that, even with all the times he came to them for their wares and talked on and on about his party’s exploits. Come to think of it, Baptiste didn’t really brag about all the stuff he’s been doing lately; donating all of those expensive crystal cauldrons to charity certainly seemed brag worthy to Quinn.

“So, this was the only one left?”

“Yes,” the gecko replied, “It was my first ever cauldron, actually.”

Ah, Quinn realized, no wonder it looked straight out of the Stone Age. “So what kinda potions are we gonna make? I assume we’re using the orchids I painstakingly had to get for you?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drama princen,” Maven gave a dismissive hand.

“What…the hell’s a ‘princen’?”

The queen gleefully grabbed the box filled with the orchids and opened them up, as well as preparing the supplies needed for brewing. “‘Princen’ is exactly what it sounds like. Gender neutral term for a prince or princess.”

“They have those?”

“Well, no, not yet from what I gather. I imagine at least one of those bejeweled gremlins will come out as non-binary sometime soon, though. Certainly not an impossibility. Er, help me with this, will you, Cinder?” Quinn helped Maven with holding all of the ingredients necessary, which included tons of bottles filled with estus. One by one, she grasped each bottle with her tiny scaled hands and emptied them all into the cauldron.

Finally, after what seemed like at least thirty minutes, the tub was sufficiently filled. Quinn shifted their posture and told Boxer to stay still so that they don’t crack any of the bottles now scattered on the ground. “So what kind of potion are you trying to make?”

Maven giggled, “That’s for me to know and for you to follow along, Cinder.”

The more Quinn got called ‘Cinder’, the more used to it they got. It was still a pretty weird nickname, doesn’t really fit them all too well, apart from their eyes and hair, like Maven said. But, they supposed that it wasn’t too odd; codenames were important for this type of operation.

Maven opened up the chest and revealed the flowers. “Now, don’t worry about the safety of this flower’s existence, I’m a cautious potion maker, you see. I took a snipping of each one as soon as I was able to. I estimate they will be able to bloom in about two or three months.”

“Wait, but,” Quinn questioned, “Where did you plant them? You couldn’t have done it back at the castle.”

“I have a very special place in that castle that no one can enter without my influence,” Maven stroked the blue one, the Orchid of the Siren Maiden. “Mind singing for me?”

The apprentice faltered, “W-What? Why would I-?”

“This flower reacts positively to singing. Particularly good singing, trust me I’ve tried several times,” Maven sighed, “If only I had a voice as good as yours, little apprentice. I would’ve been unstoppable.”

“How do you know about that?” Quinn hissed.

“Back at the garden, remember? Those flytraps went to sleep so quickly you’d think they got some human food coma. Now, come on, sing. Before my arm gets tired.”

“Ugh…” Quinn rubbed their tired eyes, they could never have any sort of secrets anymore, could they? “…Fine. Any song requests?”

Maven gave a quick nod, eyes bright, “Yes, actually. ‘Crazy He Calls Me’.”

“…That song about that singer who died at like, what, forty?”

“The very same!” She confirmed, as if that song wasn’t super depressing in context even decades of years after its release. “Trust me, that song is tame in comparison to others I could’ve chosen.”

Quinn nodded, “Good point.” They cleared their throat and grabbed a bottle of water from Boxer, who was now excited to hear his owner sing. They weren’t necessarily…thrilled about singing this particular number, but Maven requested it and they had no other ideas. So, the singer simply took a swig of water and took a breath.

    I say I’ll move the mountains

    And I’ll move the mountains 

    If he wants them out of the way

    Crazy

    Sure, I’m crazy

    Crazy in love, I say

Quinn immediately felt sick at the thought of singing this song; begging for the affections of a  man of all things. But as they sang, the lily began to bloom more. Oddly enough, this song must’ve been uplifting to the little thing. As they continued with the song, Maven excitedly saw the orchid lift its petals up more and more. It was nearly blooming as Quinn got to the last couple verses.

    I say I’ll care forever

    And I mean forever

    If I have to hold up the sky

    Crazy he calls me

    Sure, I’m crazy

    Crazy in love am I

Once the singer finally stopped with the song, the Orchid of the Siren Maiden finally awoke again. As soon as the petals spread into a beautiful pearl-like epicenter, it sang too.

The lyrics weren’t discernible in any way, but Quinn could still hear the desperation and agony. To be with its love, the love it worked so hard for, but wasn’t able to get. Now it's drowning; in both sorrow, tears, and sea, forever until the end of time, while the love of their life was away with someone else, being adored by someone else. Before the song could progress any further, Maven plucked the pearly center off and placed it into the pot, making all of the contents inside form into a dark indigo.

The orchid stopped singing and Quinn was able to feel tears down their cheeks. Not a single sob or whimper escaped their mouth, yet they were streaming hot tears, so they quickly tried to wipe them away. It was only after the drying of their face that they realized that Maven also had a few teardrops falling.

“What…was that?”

Maven, unfazed, simply dried her scales and replied, “That is simply this orchid’s power. It creates a song so saddening that it will cause anyone who hears it to weep.”

“How did you find that thing?” Quinn said, their nose now stuffy because of the damn creature.

“I found it in the middle of the ocean, years and years ago, outside the seas near Rafta. It was at the very heart of the coral reef, and there were tons of them. The rest of the scavengers already got the other ones and simply wasted it on trashy potions anyone can make, muddling its power down until it becomes indistinguishable. Such a waste…” she growled.

“But…wait,” the apprentice looked down at the cauldron, now forming a mini version of a stormy ocean. “That…That title you gave it. The Orchid of the Siren Maiden…that’s the Little Mermaid.”

“You didn’t catch on before?”

“Well, obviously, yeah. But like…I felt its song. It was…mourning. Mourning its own life being lost to someone else who didn’t love it back,” Quinn furrowed their eyes. “…That’s the story. The original.”

“Yes. That is indeed the story of The Little Mermaid, not one sugar coated to keep kids sleeping at night. You felt the song’s power…?”

“You didn’t ? How could you not hear it?” Quinn exasperatingly asked. Maven didn’t get to respond before the stirring of Robin distracted her.

“Ah, dammit all. Be a dear and help me bottle this up.”

The new elixir was quickly put into the strewn about glass containers, and it was able to fill up five common sized potions. Inside the bottle, it was still swirling, a whirlpool encased in glass. Maven made quick work to possess Robin’s body again and she used him to help out with the cleanup. “Thank you for this, truly. Now, I have some studying to do. Forgive me for not inviting you, but I prefer to do my research in solitude.”

“Yea, no worries. I gotta run the shop,” they replied as they picked up Boxer’s leash. “Are we leaving the cauldron here?”

“Might as well. No dimwit can enter this cavern, anyhow. It’ll just be another one of our little secrets.”

Quinn felt a smile form; they liked sharing secrets. “Until later then, Your Majesty,” they said, making a mocking voice at the title. The clairvoyant then left, crawling up various rocks and magma to finally reach the light of the surface again.

The exhaustion quickly fell upon Quinn as soon as they got back to land, and the start of the walk back to their broom certainly didn’t help matters. But when they got there, they saw not one, but two familiar faces that really should stop conveniently getting in the way of Quinn’s personal matters.

Roxanne was there, and she certainly seemed at her element in the heat, and for some ungodly reason Saffron was accompanying her, also seeming just fine. Quinn approached them, trying their best not to look too much like they just got out from a very musky swimming pool. “Uhhh…What are you doing here?”

The demoness looked toward her tiny friend and grinned, “Well, what are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

Saffron trotted to the other two, taking a sip of her pipe, “It’s nice to see you, Quinn. Are you well?”

“I’m…well enough,” they groaned, finally getting on their broom. “Can you tell me what you’re doing here, Saffron?”

“Well, Roxanne commissioned me to create a home for her.”

That caused Quinn to perk up, “Really? You’re finally moving out of the basement? I thought you loved tormenting Sylvia every day.”

Roxanne carded a hand through her jet black hair, “Well, of course I do, but that basement has gotten a bit too small for me and Ceras, I’m afraid. She’s growing more by the day, and oddly enough, so am I. It’s time to move on to greater things, pursue greener pastures, as they say.”

“Y-You’re not moving out of Rafta, are you?” Quinn asked, feeling themself tense up.

“Oh! Goodness, no! There are so many opportunities and corrupted souls right here that I can’t find anywhere else. Besides, I don’t think my particular market will be accepted anywhere else other than Rafta,” she gave a small pet to their hat, “Don’t worry your rotten little head. I’m not going anywhere~”

Quinn huffed, but didn’t pull away from the pet. “I gotta go. I’m a bit behind on business. Good luck on the construction, guys.” Quinn gave a wave before Boxer settled underneath the broom and they began taking flight. They wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, maybe land their broom for a quick dip in the beach water before finally heading back to their usual spot in the sky. At least the salt would somewhat mask all the sweat they’ve accumulated. 

Saffron and Roxanne watched them leave, another puff of smoke coming from the faun’s lips. She looked contemplative, “…Roxanne, do you know if they have a home by any chance? Any bed to sleep on or a roof over their head?”

“No. They’re not the type to be bogged down by a house. The world is their oyster; one very monetary and vulnerable oyster.”

The carpenter nodded, blowing a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes, “Well, let’s get back to collecting the volcano rock. There should be plenty this way.” Saffron put the new idea that formed at the back of her mind. One project at a time.

Roxanne took a moment to stare as Quinn fled away. Something seemed…off about them today. Like they were trying to hide something from her. She didn’t like that very much; she’s the secret keeper. She knows everything and anything all at once. Plus, Quinn is the most blunt person she knew, what could they have possibly been hiding from her?

A mystery to uncover for another day, Roxanne supposed.

Chapter Text

Sylvia thought a lot about the mission the past few days. Other than the cavern, Robin left no trace of anything that even hinted at his presence in Rafta. She was pretty disheartened, but the others reassured her that investigations like this take some time and that new clues could always pop up at any moment.

But that’s not exactly why Sylvia was upset. It was for a more complicated reason. It was something that she didn’t want to accept, so she just distracted herself by making more potions.

Oswald took notice, as he always did, “Sylvia, if you have something on your chest just spit it out already. It’s gonna clog up sooner or later and neither you nor I want to deal with the fallout.”

“Wow. Thanks for the gentle worlds, Oswald,” Sylvia grumbled, pouring Thunder Tonics into their respective bottles. Oswald crossed his large arms, “I’m serious, Sylvia. I can tell that you’re upset, and even if you don’t want to share what’s wrong with me, specifically, you should tell someone.”

“That’s…precisely the problem.”

Oswald sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Well, I guess fear of confrontation is hereditary in this family.”

“You’d betcha,” Sylvia groaned. “I…guess I’ll just have to rip off the bandaid, yea?”

“Learn from my mistakes, Sylvia. Don’t wait until the last minute.”

Silent seconds passed. She finally realized what she had to do. “…I’ll be right back. Gotta do this sooner rather than later.”

“Understandable. Take care of yourself, my niece.” Oswald went to the desk as Sylvia grabbed her broom. “Yea. You too.”

—

It was in the middle of the afternoon, Quinn’s shop was still open to anyone who dared to come up to them. It was booming, as expected, however Mint and some of her friends were disappointed that those magic orchids never made it to stock. They just told them they were hard to come by; it wasn’t a complete lie.

It was a slow day, a perfect time for a nap. The vendor was busy resting their eyes when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Hi, Quinn. Mind waking up for me?”

Quinn let out a grumble. They always hated being interrupted out of a good sleep, but it was Sylvia, so it wasn’t too bad. “Heya, blightroach.”

“Hey,” Sylvia gave them a grin. Something was off about it. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Yea..? Yea, of course,” Quinn sat up on their broom. Their partner scooted her own vehicle up to theirs, eventually reaching over to sit next to them.

“You’ve been busy the past week. Ever since the party you’ve been sorta…distant. Is everything okay?”

At that very question, Quinn felt the urge to well up. They wouldn’t, of course, they’re a big kid. “Yea…Yea I’m okay. I just got busy collecting ingredients, that’s all.” Again, not entirely a lie.

“…Are you sure that’s all you’re doing?”

“Well…There’s this person that’s been commissioning me a lot, lately. It’s nothing substantial, but they just wanted to keep anonymous. They ask for…expensive ingredients, to say the least. Hence why I’ve been out foraging instead of selling my wares.”

“Ah…okay.” Sylvia held her hands in front of her. Quinn furrowed their dark brows, “Sylvia, you okay?”

“Fine. Yea, I’m fine.”

“…Sylvia, you yourself told me that when things are ‘fine’, they aren’t actually fine. Mind telling me what’s up?”

Sylvia rubbed her neck and scooted closer to Quinn. “Well…I am…involved with a mission with the Heroes’ Guild.”

“Really?” Quinn queried, “What kind?”

“The kind where I actually have to do hero work.”

“What-?! You serious? That’s…pretty cool,” they said, knowing they’re whole lifestyle is far from heroic. Or legal.

“The person that we’re investigating was last seen by Corsac exiting the kraken’s skull. So, we all went there and found footprints.”

Well…this certainly wasn’t the best info. “What kind?”

“…Yours, Quinn. I found yours.”

Sylvia showed her tablet to Quinn, showcasing a photo of the scene. The footprints definitely became muffled by the spare sand and wind, but…yea those were definitely theirs.

“Is…is there anything else that you can tell me about this person? Why are they commissioning you?”

“Sylvia…” Quinn huffed, clenching their pants. “I…I can’t just reveal a person’s confidentiality like that. I want to help you, I do, but- but it wouldn’t necessarily sit right with me to spill our business together, even if it was for the Heroes’ Guild.”

“This case is also personal to me. Now, listen, I understand you want to protect your client’s identity. That’s noble. But…they might be involved with something very very bad. Which means, by proxy, you might be too.”

Quinn stayed silent.

“I just don’t want you to be involved in something where you can…you can-“

“I can…what? Get hurt…?” They miffed. 

“I…” Sylvia cringed. “…Yea, I guess you could say that…”

Quinn looked away, “Sylvia, I told you I know how to take care of myself. Why don’t you believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I just don’t want you to be involved in this type of business. I don’t want you to fall into-”

“You don’t get to dictate my life, Sylvia!” Quinn snapped, before realizing their tempter and taking a quick second to check their volume. “I-I really like you, I do, but I’m not going to back out of this deal. I know you care about me, but her offer is very important to me. Just…please trust me on this one, okay?”

“…’Her’?”

As soon as Quinn stopped their passionate response, they realized their error. A fatal error. Sylvia’s heartbroken face said it all.

“…So you know Robin is Maven…and you still went through with the deal…?”

Quinn didn’t respond, they simply let out vague starts of sentences, reached for her, but Sylvia turned away. Her voice heavy, she replied, “I’m…I’m disappointed in you.”

With that, she jumped on her broom and left. Quinn was left alone with the shattered world in their hands.

Even if they did form an apology, they would be saying it to no one.

—

The forest was delightfully blue this afternoon, which was a rarity for Saffron. The color of the deepest allium, with the grass beneath her hooves still the same sepia green complimenting the view perfectly. If she did indeed have a magical device, she would definitely take a picture of this forest, but she doubted that it would turn out very well. Instead, she simply was content with painting it.

Saffron liked to paint in the dark and let the flora and fauna around her tell her what exact blues and greens to use, but she did have a single lantern cascading a red glow for, because she didn’t want to risk spilling her flower-based pigment all over the ground. She very much doubted nature would appreciate their brethren’s remains being spilt all over them.

Thunk.

Strange sound. Definitely not animalistic, the monsters didn’t travel to her neck of the woods. They also don’t tend to hit tree trunks.

Thunk…Thunk…Thunk…

The noise came from Saffron’s left, and her ears drooped down when she saw a figure in the distance. It was definitely humanesque. One of their fists was punching a thick tree. That wasn’t very kind of them; Barney didn’t do anything to warrant the harassment, she was pretty sure. Only…Saffron didn’t get the sense of them hitting the tree as a barbaric mechanism for controlling anger. The movement of their fist; the force they’re hitting the trunk with; the way the rest of their body simply looked defeated.

It was…despair. Saffron’s had many experiences with that old friend. Only she never blamed the forest for her suffering. The fawn stood up from her small log and walked over to the stranger.

The person eventually stopped once Saffron got close enough, and they limply let their arm hang. There was a hat on the floor; a hat that she recognized. “Quinn…? What are you doing here, my friend?”

“…I’m not your friend. What do you want?”

That tone was unlike them. Quinn wasn’t usually this fuming, even with the people they found intolerable. “I simply came to check up on you. I saw you punching Barney and I had to intervene.”

“…Barney?” Quinn repeated, their eyes slightly glowing through their shadowed form.

Saffron took a long awaited sip of her pipe, “Yes, Barney. He’s one of the oldest oaks here. You didn’t hurt him too badly, he’s seen many things in his lifetime.” She let out some smoke in a direction away from Quinn and she turned back with a solemn expression. “But…I just came to check up on you.”

“Why? You never talked to me before. It’s only when I’m with-“ they paused. Saffron put together the pieces. “With…Sylvia. Did something happen between the two of you?”

They let out a laugh, one filled with bitterness and loathing, “It’s nothing. Just screwed things up, as usual.”

Quinn raised their fist in preparation to hit the trunk again, but they felt warm hands gently close around it. “No, Quinn…Harm doesn’t heal. Not on others, and not on yourself.”

Saffron hung her head as she felt wetness around her fingers. “…You’re bleeding. Let me heal you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” Saffron said, already preparing one of her cantrips, “Even though you consider us still acquaintances, I will not let you wallow in your grief.”

Quinn felt cooling all over their knuckles and palm, and soon the wound was soothed over and replaced with undamaged skin. As if nothing ever happened at all.

“There…” Saffron whispered before leading Quinn to her own abode. “…I’ve been thirsty anyway. Let’s brew some tea together.”

Unexpectedly, Quinn didn’t try to fight back or rip their newly healed hand away from Saffron’s soft grip. Instead, they followed behind like a lost child, head low and spirits lower. The druid led her visitor to her campsite and let them sit on one of the log seats she crafted. “Do you have a preference? I have camomile, earl gray, flytrap?”

Quinn had no response.

“Or…have you not had tea before?”

Quinn did remember having tea, at some point, during their childhood. At some party their parents were hosting. It tasted gross then, and they certainly doubted it’ll taste better now.

Saffron hummed, “I recommend camomile as a starter. It’s a very subtle flavor, and it helps with sleep.”

“I don’t need much help with that,” they grumbled.

“Even so, camomile is known to calm the nerves and allow for relaxation. Or you can try it yourself and form your own conclusion.” Saffron began to mortar some of the camomile petals and leaves she gathered over her many years as a woodlander. As she prepared for the brew, Quinn put their head in their knees, clenching their sweater like a lifeline.

She noticed and finally decided to discuss it as the brew sizzled in her tea pot above the fire. “…You are free to your own privacy, Quinn. You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to. But allowing yourself time to feel in ways that aren’t harmful can be very healing. Oftentimes, the first step is talking.”

“…Did Sylvia teach you that?”

Saffron paused. “…Partially, however-“

“Of course she did. She knows everything…” Quinn’s voice had a trembling to it.

“Do you wish to talk about it? It’s okay if you don’t.”

They kept their face in their knees, but still they allowed themself to speak. “…We had a…I messed up. She got mad at me…she is mad at me. We didn’t even fight, we just…she just left. And I-“

“Take a breath, Quinn…” Saffron noted, taking the kettle off the heat, “You’re doing fine.”

The breath was indeed taken, and Quinn lowered their legs, though their hair was covering half of their face in shadow. “I don’t know how to fix this…I dunno if I should fix this. She’s probably better off without me…”

“Talk to her.”

Quinn let out another scoff, “You make it sound so easy.”

Saffron shook her head, pouring the tea into two clay cups, with vague flower inventions as designs. “I’m not trying to. It’s definitely not easy; it’s hard. It’s difficult to be vulnerable, to rip part of your soul out to someone else.”

They stayed silent, just stared at her. Saffron handed them one of the cups, steam gently caressing both of their hands, “I know the feeling. Careful there, it’s still hot.”

Quinn kept the cup in their large palms, and they didn’t make a single move. They just stared at the steaming tea, letting the aroma hit their nostrils before finally taking a small sip. As soon as the camomile elixir soothed their entire body, they felt the world around them melt away. A gasp, and then a vision.

The first thing they noticed was Saffron. She looked younger, and yet exactly the same. Her hair was longer, and someone else was braiding it. They wore a dress, but there were medical insignias on their chest and on the back of the skirt. The two of them were in a camp, very similar to this one, only there were more tents. Saffron had a few bruises on her person. When she sipped on the camomile tea, the injuries went away. Saffron began to laugh, and turned to her companion to give a hug. The flowery braid cascaded down her back, and the vision went to an end.

Quinn shook their head, hoping that the tea didn’t spill all over themself. They didn’t need to deal with second degree burns today. Luckily, Saffron was holding their cup for them, and it was handed back after their crystal ball was tucked away. 

Saffron didn’t ask them what their vision was. She had a good feeling about what it entailed.

Quinn sighed and took another sip before speaking, “I…I saw you. You were younger. You were with another person…A healer, I think? You were drinking the tea…and they were braiding your hair.”

Saffron nodded, sipping on her own camomile tea. She sighed, a sudden wash of bittersweetness came over her, at the same pace the beverage warmed her entire being. “…That was Shaylie. She was a very good friend of mine. I learned this recipe from her.”

“…Oh.” Quinn could tell from Saffron’s tone that Shaylie was dead. They vaguely remembered hearing about a Shaylie in one of the Witchfall ceremonies, where they take the time to remember all of the heroes that lost their lives during their battle with Maven.

“You were friends with a hero…?”

Saffron smiled, but her eyes were distant. “I was a hero. A very long time ago. I ended my herodom after the battle.”

“So…So that was your party that was killed?”

A nod, “…Yes. I was resting in the village to heal after my wounds from the kraken.”

The kraken. From where Quinn started this whole escapade with the witch. They suddenly felt sick. “I-I’m sorry…”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. Your vision brought back a very good memory. Right beforehand we were fighting an owl bear, and I thought I could take it down while I was transformed into a griffin. I…definitely could not.” There was laughter in her voice, even though her eyes became misty. “Shaylie was there, though. She helped me heal, and reprimanded me for being an idiot.”

Quinn emitted a soft laugh. Sylvia didn’t say it directly, but she called them an idiot too. In her own way.

“…Was Shaylie mad at you?”

Saffron took another sip of her tea, “Why, of course she was. Absolutely furious! I went against her exact orders not to try any reckless plans without the rest of the party’s consent.” One more swig of the tea, and the cup was emptied. The fawn smiled again, “But…most of all she was worried about my wellbeing. And once I was all healed, and my ugly haircut was sorted, we patched things up.”

Quinn drank the rest of their own tea and placed the cup down next to them. “…It tasted better than I thought.”

“That’s good.” Then, Saffron picked up a few nearby flowers and began to do…something with them. Quinn couldn’t tell, but she seemed to be intertwining the stems and leaves into a sort of pattern. They spoke again, “I…I rarely get any visions of the past. It’s mostly just the present or the future. But…But the tea gave me a vision of…Gods, of over twenty years ago. How did that happen?”

“I have a small theory on that, if I’m allowed to share.”

“Go ahead. I don’t understand myself half the time, anyway.”

Saffron giggled, “Don’t we all?”

More flowers; they were mostly dark purple and red, with a few yellows to space it out. “We once had a seer at our guild; his name was Malachi. He was a bit of a ditz at times, couldn’t handle a serious conversation to save his life, but overall he was a very lovely person. He had a partner, Ailsa, and she could make the best meals out of the biggest hunts. Whenever Malachi ate her cooking, he had a vision. It was often of Ailsa’s family, from a clan in the Arctic Mountains. It was either herself as a child, learning the recipes from her warrior parents, or other children from her home that are learning the same thing from their own families. Recipes passed down from generations past seep into the future.”

Saffron laughed again, eventually tying off what ended up being a flower crown into completion. “Malachi always joked that one more vision of the family is one step closer to meeting Ailsa’s parents. She never laughed, but she was never the one to laugh anyway. If anything, he was the only one who could raise any emotions out of her…whether positive or negative.”

The druid stood up and walked over to Quinn, crown in hand. They grew wary, “What are you doing with that thing?”

She chuckled, even as she sat next to them and held up the crown, “Malachi taught me how to make these. He always made them for Ailsa whenever they were out with us adventuring.” Before Quinn could protest, the crown was atop their head, and it was fastened by Saffron so that it was not only snug, but their hair cascaded around and down it; working with the flowers except against it.

Saffron looked back and wiped her eyes, giving a grin, “Those were some of the only times I ever saw Ailsa smile. You remind me of her.”

At the mention, as if Ailsa somehow possessed them from wherever she was in the afterlife, Quinn let out a smile too.

Saffron noticed and took a confident sip of her pipe, which was somehow still lit, “There.”

“…What was the point of this life lesson, huh?”

Saffron picked up the empty cups and put them away. “Well, hopefully the point was to encourage you to communicate with Sylvia. In friendship or in romance, when you piss the other person off, even if it seems like you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life…talk to the other person. Their point of you is just as valid as yours. And often it’s not nearly as bad of a mistake as you think it is.

Except it was. Except it really really was.

“Talk to her. She’ll forgive you. And above all else, you must learn to forgive yourself.”

“Forgive…myself? How do I do that?” Quinn asked, half of them not wanting the answer.

“You atone. You turn your wrongs into rights. You don’t turn into a griffin next time an owlbear ambushes the camp.” Saffron continued her painting as she spoke. Quinn was just the inspiration she needed to complete it. “But…you can do it tomorrow. It’s late. You need your rest.” Her eyebrows rose up, and she grasped her straw hat. “Speaking of which-“

Saffron went into her satchel and pulled out a sketchbook, flipping the pages until settling on one and showing it to Quinn. “I made sketches for a portable house. Of course, I’ll need witches to help with putting it compactly into a box for your convenience, and there’s Roxanne’s house I need to complete before even planning on starting this project. Portable houses are relatively new, so they’re still pretty expensive, and-“

A snore tore its way through the silence. Saffron picked up her lantern and red light shone upon a sleeping Quinn, the flower crown still on their head. Saffron chuckled and returned to her own painting. An hour or two later, and the painting was finished, with two of her long lost friends, Malachi and Ailsa, sitting in the flowerbeds underneath the indigo sky. 

Chapter Text

Quinn woke up to petals landing on their nose, and their entire body shook when they sneezed the petal away. The flower crown was on the grass beside them, and in its place were branches and leaves. Perfect.

Quinn sneezed again before sitting up on the log and immediately feeling pins and needles in their back and shoulders.

“Good morning, Quinn.” Saffron was currently making a soup along with another tea. “I’m making Earl Gray this time.”

Quinn nodded and rolled back their shoulders. It felt like the entirety of their back was racked with a hairbrush. Saffron noticed their expressions of discomfort and went over to run a couple of glowing green fingers along behind them. “I can’t imagine sleeping on a log is very comfortable for you, but you certainly didn’t seem bothered by it while you slept.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m bothered by it now,” Quinn winced. The cantrip eventually got rid of all the aches, and they no longer felt like a walking itch. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all,” Saffron went back to the fireplace and took off the pot and the tea kettle. The tea was poured into the cups and Quinn was handed their serving. They took a sip; the flavor was a definitely different type of grass, but a pleasant piece of grass nonetheless. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here for long. I have to get to work on Roxanne’s commission. From what I hear, she can be a very…interesting person to work with.”

“‘Interesting’ is the understatement of the century. This is gonna be a fun few weeks for you,” Quinn snickered and sipped their drink some more. Saffron put her soup in two bowls, and the companions shared a relatively silent morning together.

It was pretty nice, all things considered. The forest around them wasn’t blue anymore, but a very light green, bordering on yellow. The sunrise lit up the foliage around them, and the light was somewhat obscured by the trunks and tree tops, like a shower of warmth on the camp. Some birds were chirping, Quinn was pretty sure bunnies were busy creating more bunnies, and squirrels were being their usual evil selves somewhere hidden in the leaves where no one can suspect them of their treachery.

Eventually, the breakfast was completed and Saffron grabbed her pack of carpeting supplies. “This is about my time to leave, unfortunately. You’re free to stay here for as long as you need to, Quinn.”

“Thanks, but I probably need to go soon too. I…” Quinn placed the bowl and cup down beside them, “…I got something I need to do.”

The fawn nodded, her lips forming a grin. “I wish you the best of luck. Go in peace.” She waved goodbye and finally galloped away from her little abode.

Quinn stayed at the site for a while, mostly to prepare their mental battery for the very taxing conversation they were eventually going to have with Sylvia. They took in the air around them, the gentle breeze on their skin, in their hair. Their hat was a few feet from them, near that tree. Barney. Quinn should probably apologize to him before leaving this place.

Their eyes turned to the painting that Saffron did in the middle of the night. It was almost like looking into a window, or a time machine, not only of last night, but the last night of many many years ago. A night very similar, yet different. Of two people talking and making flower crowns.

It was pretty nice.

Quinn finally decided it was time to go, and took a deep breath. They got up, walked away from Saffron’s abode, picked up their hat and patted Barney a farewell.

—

Sylvia went to the spot Quinn said they were hiding. It was an odd place to have a conversation like this, in the mouth of a cave in the enchanted forest near the city. Luckily, the cave should’ve been clear of any monsters, and even if some managed to still live there, Sylvia could handle them with ease. She was pretty sure she and them got over the ‘leaving each other to die’ stage of their relationship.

Quinn left her a letter; it was in the circle windowsill pinched between the panes. Sylvia had no idea when they left this message, it simply wasn’t there one second and there the next. She should’ve expected that from Quinn at this point.

As the humble heroine went to the mouth of the cave, she looked down at the letter once more. The handwriting was definitely something to be desired, and there was even some mimic drool that warped the wording, but Sylvia still understood the message. She understood their language perfectly.

Sylvia,

I’m not good at apologies, but I also know that apologizing via letter isn’t the best way to go about this. Just meet me at the noob’s cave, around sunset. Just to be clear, I’m not breaking up with you. At least I really don’t want to. So don’t come up with impossible scenarios in your head.

Lov Quinn.

P.S: I finally got your birthday present.

P.S.S: Boxer says hi.

The last message caused Sylvia to huff amusedly. Of course he did.

The letter was placed in her back pocket and she ventured into the cavern. When she got to the very end of the way, she found that it wasn’t dark or gloomy, quite the opposite. There were lanterns in every wall, presumably from the Heroes’ guild itself, to make travel easier for the new adventurers who would have their first expeditions here.

In the very center, was Quinn and Boxer. The mimic was underneath their arms, giving gentle licks to their fingertips. Once Sylvia approached the two, Quinn shot up from the ground and held their hands behind their back. They were straight, not slouched, their hat was pulled back so their entire face was exposed. 

Sylvia didn’t like seeing them like this; it was a mask. “Qui-“

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry. Why are you standing like that?”

Quinn staggered back a bit, but still retained their posture. “I lied to you,” they continued, “I hurt you. I did unspeakable things to your trust.”

Sylvia hated this more and more by the second. 

“I betrayed you, and I don’t deserve your kindness,” Quinn started to shake and they tensed up. “You have been wronged. So…” They looked down to their feet.

Sylvia frowned, looking at the way they braced in pure horror. She had a sick feeling that this song and dance was familiar to Quinn.

Seconds passed; neither of them made a move. Quinn looked up shyly at her, “…What are you doing…Just-Just get it over with already-“

“Can I hug you?”

Their posture loosened, and they staggered. Confusion coated their entire expression. Confusion morphed into anger, and anger morphed into sadness. Quinn hid their face with their hair and nodded.

Sylvia wrapped her arms around them faster than lightning, and she made sure to squeeze as tightly as possible. Quinn didn’t move from their position, they simply put their face in her chest.

While muffled by Sylvia’s clothes, Quinn stuttered. “I-I don’t understand. You’re supposed- you’re supposed to be furious with me. I hurt you. I hurt you so bad- Why aren’t you punishing me for it?”

“That’s not how love works, Quinn. I’m not supposed to punish you. Guilt is punishment enough.”

A sniffle, Quinn was desperately trying to hold onto what little composure they had left, “B-But I-“

Sylvia looked down into Quinn’s overflowing eyes. “It doesn’t matter how bad you have wronged me, it never gives me the right to hurt you.” A hand rubbed the smaller one’s back with small circles, which helped them control their breathing.

“I’m so sorry for what your parents’ taught you about-“

“No! No, why are you feeling bad for me? ” Quinn shouted, shivering.

“Because I want you to apologize in your own way. Not to repeat the toxins you were raised to obey,” Sylvia choked out, cupping their cheek. Quinn chuckled, all warped due to their voice choking up. “My own apologies…My own apologies would probably suck so bad you’d wanna beat me up anyway-“

Sylvia gave a squeeze to their cheek. “No. Don’t you dare say that.”

The woman pulled away and held the other’s hands, “Just tell me, honestly, about your feelings. What you did and why you did it. You don’t have to repeat some cultish mantra for me to forgive you.”

Quinn took a couple of seconds to breathe, following both Sylvia’s and Saffron’s example. Finally, they had the courage to speak. The truth, this time. “…I never got my memory wiped back at the colosseum.”

Sylvia froze just slightly, “How…?”

“I dunno. I guess my clairvoyance prevented it from coming through to me. Robin, or…Maven encountered me at the gala.”

“The gala?!” She exclaimed. “B-But how did I-“

“Not see him? Well, Maven is sorta a prodigy when it comes to sneaking around. As…I’m sure you’ve noticed by now…” Quinn was still shaking, but Sylvia’s presence comforted them greatly. “Maven commissioned me at the party, after my whole…ensemble came apart. And we met in the kraken skull afterward and she told me to get a few ingredients. From her lab. They’re these…weird orchids that have some sort of special abilities to them? One of them made me cry, that piece of…”

Sylvia listened intently. Quinn sniffed and continued, “I took the job…because I still don’t understand myself. My powers. Your potions help a lot, but I've always felt like I could be more. More than just…window dressing. More like you…”

“More like me…?” Sylvia said, tilting her head.

“Yea. I mean, you’re unremarkable to the average person, at first glance. Regular human with regular body type and regular personality. But…you’re so much more. People look at me and think I’m not that special, just an…an annoyance. My parents only thought of me as a cash cow. Even I see myself as just…a person. I’m a clairvoyant, but what’s different about me than all the other clairvoyants out there?”

“A lot of things.”

“Yea, I know,” Quinn nodded, “You know all the things that I don’t know about myself. Well…almost everything. I just constantly feel like I’ve never reached my full potential. With the gala, I simply got lucky. But…Look at my hair? My eyes? My monocle- Oh crap, I didn’t tell you about my monocle yet-“

Quinn silently cursed themself while Sylvia stuttered, perplexed. “W-What is it about your monocle? Do you even use it?”

The clairvoyant shook their head, freeing one hand to grasp at the thing. “No. It’s not my prescription. But I’ve had it my whole life.”

“Your whole life? Like from when you were a baby?”

“Basically. I don’t remember a time where I didn’t have it. And whenever I lick it…” Quinn licked the monocle and grasped their crystal ball. “…I get visions. Of a man. I rarely ever got to see his face, but I…I…” Soon, they were swimming in violet, and a vision took hold of their mind.

It wasn't the man. Probably the very last person Quinn expected to see. It was Maven.

She was in someplace dark, with rotten bookshelves and curtains eaten up by moths. There was something in the center, a crystal ball…? Maybe…? It seemed to be barely standing. Maven was looking through a book, and she was about done reading the current chapter. She placed a large piece of paper inside and closed it; they were pretty sure it wasn’t a bookmark, it was too large and had a strange film to it. The book title was ‘Fairytales of Grimm.’

Quinn had seen that book plenty throughout their lifetime, they even remember owning it back in their own tower. It was republished countless times by various types of people, all retelling their own version of events. The tales of the princes and princesses through the history of the entire world that was Grimm. This seemed to be an extremely old version, the dye on the covers was almost dried off completely, however it was kept in pristine condition thanks to Maven’s care. 

Robin was sleeping in the corner, a puppet cut from its strings. Maven placed the book back in its glass case before crawling over to another container, a display for the Siren Maiden potion. There were three other slots meant for other potions. There were only two orchids left. The vision ended.

Sylvia was closer to them, placing a hand on their shoulder, “Quinn? You okay? What did you see?”

“…I didn’t see the man, that’s for sure.”

“Okay…? I assume that’s bad.”

“I saw Maven, so it definitely could’ve been better.”

Sylvia was shocked for about the fifth time in the past half hour, “W-What? But-But your powers. They only work if the object is associated with the person you get visions of. Does that mean…?”

Quinn grimaced and clenched their heirloom, “…It means that somehow…this thing is connected to Maven. And, by proxy… I am connected to Maven.”

“How is that possible?”

“You think I would know? As far as I’m concerned I just met her! ” Quinn yelped. Sylvia bit her lip and ran gentle circles on their neck with her fingertips, pulling them into another hug. “It’s okay. I’m sure it can’t be…it can’t be that bad?”

Quinn stared at her; she deflated, “Okay it’s about the absolute worst thing you could ever hear, potentially.”

“Yea, no kidding. But…at least it’s me? If you found out the  heirloom you have held onto your entire life had a connection to a long dead villainess I think you would explode.”

“That’s probably true,” Sylvia admitted.

“So…” The psychic sighed, their eyes furrowed. “…You were destined to be the only one who can stop her second reign. And I am destined to be a part of her return…”

“That’s…cryptic,” Sylvia chuckled nervously. “But I…I don’t really think you’re wrong.”

Quinn’s gears started to turn. They thought of all of the legends that were taught to them throughout their entire life. The dragons, the wizards, the fairies, the heroes, the villains. “…Do you think we’re supposed to fight each other…?”

“Huh? Why would we do that?”

“You know…the hero and the villain. They’re supposed to fight each other. Dedicate their entire lives to slaying the other.” 

“Hold on, who said that I was the hero and you are the villain?”

“Everything, Sylvia. Every damn thing.”

Cold spread all over the two of them. Sylvia held onto Quinn tighter. “You can’t think of yourself as the villain, Quinn. Maven is. She’s the one who took away a boy’s childhood, spread lies throughout the entirety of the world. I believed her. Almost everyone still believes her. You are not the bad guy. If anything…” she paused.

“…What?” Quinn asked. Sylvia squeezed their waist, “…You were stuck in a tower your whole life. You had to save yourself from that situation. You can sing…you have a beautiful voice.”

“You’re saying I’m a princen then?”

“What the hell’s a ‘princen’?”

“Gender neutral prince or princess. And anyway whatever secrets I have I don’t think I’m the long lost heir to the throne.”

“Oh…I mean, you can be whatever you want to be,” Sylvia caressed Quinn’s cheek again. “But my princen theory can still be viable. It also helps that you’re quite the looker,” she flirted, eyelids drooping.

“Shut up, you’re supposed to be mad at me right now-“ Quinn grumbled, hiding their face once more.

“I’m not mad at you anymore. You explained everything to me. And I’m pretty sure you’re never going to trust an evil witch ever again.”

“Yea. Definitely learned my lesson. But…” Quinn looked down at their monocle again. “I…I think I have to keep on seeing her.”

Sylvia stayed silent, but she still raised a curious eye.

“What I mean is…Maven is connected to me. I feel like I can’t get off this ride anytime soon. Besides, I’m the literal only lead you have in this case. If I back out now you will have no one to tell you what she’s planning.”

“What is she planning, Quinn?”

“I…I don’t know. But whatever it is…it has to do with me,” they dropped their hat to the ground, showing off their half hair half nest style going on. The taller one chuckled, “Woof. Rough night, huh?”

“Yea…Can you help me out while I braindump, blightroach?”

“Of course, lovebug.”

The two lowered onto the dirt floor and Sylvia got to work picking out all of the twigs and webs that accumulated in their hair. She wore gloves constantly, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, but it was still not the best for her. But for Quinn, she would do almost anything. Almost.

Quinn began talking once their hair began its treatment, “You know…I think we’re both a bit messed up. Who isn’t, yea? But…it seems like we’re given roles that we don’t really subscribe to. I don’t think the gods, or authors, or whatever intended for our relationship to be this way.”

Sylvia tutted, getting the sticks out and finally working on the cobwebs, “I kinda feel the same way. Being a hero is…it’s a lot,” she frowned. “I know this is sort of deterministic, or existential to say, but…sometimes I think our stories are more than just ours. Now it feels like…like the whole world is part of my story. It’s…a bit terrifying, in all honesty.”

“You didn’t ask for this. It sucks, I know. But you’re pretty good at handling pressure,” Quinn chuckled.

Sylvia finished with Quinn’s hair, and even took the liberty of tying it into a tiny tail at the nape of their neck. It felt odd, but they weren’t used to having their hair be treated this nicely. They turned back to their girlfriend, who seemed really proud of her work going by the doding look on her face. “Cute.”

“I’m never cute,” They miffed, scrunching up their nose. On the contrary, they were absolutely adorable. Sylvia pulled Quinn closer to her and placed a kiss on their forehead. “I missed you…I’m glad we cleared this up.”

Boxer barked, waddling over to the couple and opening his mouth. A package was inside. Quinn’s eyes widened, “Oh yea.”

They picked up the cardboard box and handed it to her, eyeing the tape around it. Sylvia looked at the box and then back at Quinn; she smirked, “You can open it, you know-“

The gremlin wasted no time in ripping apart the package, getting cardboard, tape, and the decorative confetti all over the ground. At the end of the massacre, Quinn held in their hands an arm cuff. It was pretty similar to Sylvia’s, except much more sustainable. And shiny.

It looked like some type of gold, it looked similar to Sylvia’s own hair clips. There were dome dents and rust but overall it was really beautiful. There was a jewel in one of the panels; it was a bright red, same as her hair. “Is this…a magic cuff?”

Quinn gave a nod, already moving to her arm and removing the leather cuff, “You needed a new one; there’s only so many times you can tie up your broken laces. Eventually it was gonna be so tight you would’ve lost circulation in your arm.”

“Yea, that would be inconvenient. Thanks for looking out for me,” Sylvia smiled when Quinn settled the new brace onto her arm. The jewel was practically glowing. “So what does this jewel do? It’s not a curse, is it?”

Quinn tsked, “Nah. Life has cursed you enough.”

“Fair point,” Sylvia had trouble taking her eyes off the pretty colors of her new accessory; the pink glow illuminated into her eyes. Quinn snapped their fingers in front of them, “Eyes down here. That jewel was a thrift buy I ordered from a Heroes’ Guild far off from Rafta. Supposedly this belonged to a human potion maker, and that jewel allowed them to be immune to any curse.”

“ Any curse? How expensive was this thing?”

“Hey, we’re not close enough to calculate bank statements yet.”

“You never go to the bank, Quinn.”

“True. Point is, it was more money than I’m willing to admit.”

Sylvia flushed, finally allowing herself to stare at her love once more. “That’s…really nice of you, Quinn. I will treasure it forever. I mean it.”

“Forever’s a long time…” Quinn leaned into her embrace.

“I know. It’s as long as I’m willing to spend with you.”

They grew red and looked downcast to the ground. “Say cheesy stuff like that and you’ll only have half of forever with me.”

“No matter how little time we have, I’ll make sure to savor any moment.”

“S-Shut it-!” Quinn wasn’t willing to admit that they liked the affection yet. Sylvia pressed her nose against theirs, eventually leading their eyes back to her own. “I’m starting to think that getting you to like me is my greatest achievement since coming here.”

Factually incorrect. Defeating Maven in a potion contest is a much greater achievement. But…Quinn finally had to admit some things.

“…No matter how you feel about being a hero. Being a potion seller. Being a human being…However this story is woven there has to be something wrong, or right, with us. We both did the impossible…You saved the world, and I, by some unholy force, managed to fall in love with you.”

Sylvia blinked. Quinn was staring only at her, their voice emotional but without a shred of any jest or doubt. “You…You love me…” Quinn felt their heart beating a million times faster. “…I do…I love you, Sylvia.”

In the middle of the cavern, the two stared at each other for a while, trying to figure out what exactly to say next. Sylvia was the one who broke the intimate awkwardness, “I…didn’t expect you to be the one to say the L word first.”

Quinn narrowed their eyes, “‘The L word?’ What are we in kindergarten?”

“If it’s any reassurance…I love you too. A lot. Like…much more than any human being can handle.”

That was it. With those four words, Sylvia became the only human being in the entire world to finally make Quinn cry.

It was almost pathetic. The way the words ‘I love you’ have almost never been said to them in their entire life, and if they were it was filled with poison and deception. A weapon to keep Quinn docile for just a little bit more. But Sylvia…she made those words feel genuine. She was genuine. Sylvia loved Quinn; Quinn was loved. 

It immediately made her concerned, but she soon just let them cry. Sylvia then discovered that Quinn was a pretty inelegant crier. Not only were the tears staining her shirt, but their sobs were loud and wet and just…heartbreaking. In a lot of different angles. “I’m…I’m sorry it took so long for someone to say those words to you.”

“St-Stahp! You’re going to-to make me cry h-harder!”

Sylvia held their head as they allowed all of their emotions to flow through them. Quinn clenched on the fabric of her shirt, “C-Crying is s-so grossss! ”

Boxer stared at his caretaker, liking away some of their tears, which made them chuckle in between the sobs. Some minutes passed, and Quinn got quieter, and now they just let tears fall. Sylvia wiped them away with her gloves, holding their face between her fingers like they were a treasure. “You did it,” she smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks…” Quinn looked at Sylvia adoringly, her touch was so kind. “…I love you.”

“I love you too, lovebug,” Sylvia chuckled, kissing in between their eyes. Quinn said again, “I love you.”

“Mhm. Love you too, babe. How long are you going to repeat that?”

“Until my heart stops beating out of my chest every time I say it. I love you,” Quinn leaned up to peck Sylvia’s lips.

And then, throughout the evening, the two said those words over and over until the other truly believed it. It took Sylvia a couple more tries than Quinn, however at the end they finally allowed themselves to love each other, no matter how their destinies were weaved. When they began to doze off on the dirt, Boxer snuggled up between Quinn and Sylvia, the psychic grinned before finally allowing themself to sleep.

Being in love was pretty cool, actually. The crying they still had to get used to. 

Chapter Text

The next morning was awkward for everyone involved. There were some rookies coming to the end of the trail, excited and proud of completing their first quest, and they found two sandy people, cuddling each other, with a mimic in between them as if it was their child. Quinn and Sylvia both made the executive decision that it was time to go their separate ways for the day. Sylvia was given the go ahead to tell the rest of the party what Quinn told them, and Quinn in turn would go to Maven and hopefully distract her from potentially spying on Sylvia. Now that they know the sorceress still had her crystal ball, albeit a very flawed one, Quinn wanted to make sure she wasn’t listening in on the adventurers’ conversations.

They met at Dragon’s Oasis again, where the cauldron was still there, and Maven was sitting patiently on Robin’s shoulder. Quinn took a deep inhale before encountering her. Act normal. Everything’s fine.

“Hey, Your Tininess.”

Maven hissed under her breath, “Hello, Cinder.”

Good; the sass will distract her. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

The gecko pulled out one of the other magical orchids; the Orchid of the Dozen Dancers. It was as long and gorgeous as Quinn remembered it, each of the twelve bulbs about the size of their palm. “Do I need to sing again?”

Maven nodded, skittering to the rim of the cauldron, “You catch on fast, Cinder. These flowers will dance whenever music is heard, however it can’t just be your voice this time.”

“Why not?” Quinn asked, standing beside her. Maven held the orchid in front of her like it was a leaf fan, which…for her size that wasn’t an entirely bad analogy. “This orchid is very picky when it comes to the music it likes. Has to have both instruments and vocals.”

“But, I dunno how to play an instrument.”

“Well…” Maven crawled back onto Robin and allowed herself to take his form. He then picked up a small case sitting beside him; it opened to reveal a violin. Quinn let out a hum, “I didn’t know Robin, er- you played the violin.”

“I did when I was younger. Sometimes I still practice in my lonesome. It took a couple of years before Robin’s body became big enough to hold this darling on his own,” the blonde looked down to the instrument. It looked pristine, though it couldn’t have been less than twenty years old. Quinn couldn’t help but be impressed by her preservation skills. “So what song do you wanna do this time?”

“That’s a tough one…” Robin averted his blue eyes in thought, “It can’t be too slow or sensual, it needs to be something these things can dance along to. It also needs to incorporate your voice…and, don’t take this personally, Cinder, but your voice isn’t really gentle enough for an orchestral piece.”

Quinn agreed, their voice wasn’t exactly attractive to cute little birds. Well, they might, they haven’t tried singing to those annoying bastards, but their voice was on the raspier side. “So we have to pick a song that’s both nice to dance to and fits both my voice and your violin’s…that’s tough.”

“It will certainly be difficult. But I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Pick any song you’d like this time, and I’lll follow along.”

The apprentice put a finger to their chin and thought about what song to use. They could do a song with actual lyrics. But…there was only one genre of music that they would personally dance to. A waltz.

So they sang. No lyrics this time around, they simply just repeated the memory. It was raspy, sure, and it was extremely awkward without any sort of instrumentals backing them up, but besides that the bulbs seemed to glow. From light pink to deepest magenta. Robin smiled, “ The Second Waltz. How fitting.”

Finally, the violin was tuned and played. It was at most one fifth part of the orchestra that was supposed to be playing this song, but it was a very lovely sound regardless. Violin was always a favorite instrument of Quinn’s, though they figured they would probably suck at it if they actually tried to play. They were happy just singing. 

The two struck a harmony together, and before the band’s eyes, the bulbs started to detach from their stem.

They sprouted, revealing beautiful petals that almost looked like dresses, and they swirled through the air. The newly matured flowers were in pairs, six of them in total, and they were gliding around Quinn. The singer found it a bit odd that they were only surrounding themself and not Robin, but they couldn’t really say much since they sang to abandoned mimics and deadly eels almost every week, so this wasn’t too out of their ballpark.

The gladiolus seemed to be having the time of their lives surrounding Quinn’s form, and they separated to form a complete ring. Robin’s voice was gone, and Maven took his place, “Yesss…keep going.”

Quinn kept on singing, Robin kept on playing, and Maven took the opportunity to pluck each and every one of the pistols from the dancing plants. That was Quinn’s cue to stop, and all of the flowers ended their dance by deflating on the ground, their glow dimming. It was almost like a curtsey, the way they bowed down around their feet; but they knew that every single one of them was now dead. It was morbid. They couldn’t tell if they liked it or not.

“Wonderful job, Cinder!” Maven plucked the orchids around their feet as quick as a flash and returned back to the cauldron to place all twelve pistols into the concoction. The estus inside turned a rosy pink, then Maven scooped all of the strange elixir into some bottles.

Quinn was still processing what happened before them. Their singing made that orchid dance, and then Maven took its life away. “You…you took a cutting, right?”

“Of course I did. Eventually, we’ll do this literal song and dance again. As many times as you want, little apprentice.”

Their monocle reflected against the hue of the newly bottled potion; an ombré effect, swirling into a dozen colors perfectly. Quinn wanted to ask about the monocle, so very badly. But that would imply that they know Maven is related to this relic somehow. They didn’t want to reveal that they know that she knows about them. Quinn also learned that this was very quickly getting too complicated for them. “So, how did you learn the violin?”

Maven sighed, putting the potions into Robin’s coat. “I learned it when I was a child. It was handed down to me by my mother, which was handed down to her from her father, and so on and so forth,” she waved a dismissive paw.

“Wow, your family must go down a long way then. That thing looks at least a hundred years old.”

“Hmm…I should’ve known you’d get nosy about my past eventually,” Maven crawled up to Robin’s shoulder, putting a hand on her hips. “Before you dig any further, I want to ask you something.”

Quinn leaned their back on the rim of the now empty cauldron, the floral scent still permeating the bowl, “Shoot.”

“…Where did you get that monocle?”

There it is. Act cool. Don’t give her any hints. “I dunno. I’ve had it since I was a baby.” Was that too much? Too little? “Why do you ask?”

Maven didn’t explain further, she didn’t ask another question, she didn’t even give any sort of expression of disappointment, anger, or happiness. Nothing at all. She just gave a small but final, “Hmm.”

Quinn figured it was only fair to push further, “I assume that gives me the right to ask you something. You got any family?”

“Do you? ”

“I did. Once. Let’s just say they didn’t do a good job.”

“Unfortunate.” The way Maven said that single word wasn’t sarcastic, or dismissive. It was…oddly genuine.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Quinn said, trying not to let their growing anger come through in their tone. They were getting really tired of this evasion.

Maven gripped her own crystal, the one around her neck, and she finally answered, “You know, you’re a good liar. So you must know that a good lie is always constructed from truth,” she tapped her claws along her pendant, “…That story I made up for Robin, of a long line of magi traveling the world and those potion recipes handed down from the generations, that story is true. For me.”

“Well…that’s certainly an interesting childhood.”

“It is. That’s why I retold it,” The witch stated, “My family migrated to Rafta to find shelter.”

Quinn held onto their crystal ball, now intrigued. “Shelter, from what?”

“…What were your parents like?”

Quinn tried their best not to clench their teeth. Fine. They’ll play this game. “Like I said. They didn’t do a good job.” Maven stood there, rolling her wrist with her palm open. They pressed their lips, “…I was experimented on. Locked up in a tower. Forced into dresses and parties I didn’t want to go to. Beat me when I didn’t obey them. You want more?”

“No, no. That’s fine enough…” Maven chided. Strange; she actually seemed guilty. Quinn didn’t expect that out of an almighty sorceress who mind controlled an entire nation of people. Sympathy was unheard of for her. Luckily for Quinn, they just had this confession with Sylvia a couple months ago, so retelling the story hurt a bit less.

“If you want to learn about my family so bad, here,” Maven grabbed something from Robin’s pocket and tossed it towards Quinn. Luckily, Boxer was there to catch the thing in his teeth, and they managed to pry it away from him. They gave him many good pets before finally seeing what was tossed. 

It was a locket with a photo. Of Maven. Human Maven, the Maven with bronze skin and dark hair, the Maven with magenta eyes that could pierce anyone who crossed her path.

There was a lot Quinn could say, but what came into mind was “…You look like you’re being held hostage.”

Maven angrily huffed, crossing her arms, “It’s true I don’t have the most photogenic smile. I much preferred being remembered via the statues, painstakingly created by all my loyal subjects to perfectly capture my likeness.”

“You know what, I would prefer that too…or a painting, maybe. As long as I don’t have to sit still.” They were open to the idea of being remembered in paintings, but they were often told to sit still by their parents for photo ops. It was absolutely awful.

Quinn handed the necklace back to Maven. “You looked fine as a human I guess…”

“‘Fine’? Is Sylvia really that high of a standard for you?”

“Well, you’re old now. That kinda loses the appeal, y’know.”

“Well!” Maven hissed, but before she could defend herself from the slander any further, Robin began to stir. “…I had a dream…There were dancing flowers…it was pretty…”

Maven whispered into his ear, her eyes opening up on mock motherliness, “It’s just a dream. Go back to sleep, Robin dear.”

“Mmm…okay…”

“…The painful exploration of our past is concluded for today, I’m afraid. We will discuss this matter another time, Cinder.” Maven clenched her claws into Robin’s mind once more, and soon enough the famous hero waved Quinn goodbye. “Until then!”

The two of them left the cave, and Quinn was left there to collect themself. They slowly slid down to the ground, Boxer happily hopping next to them and laying his body on their lap. Their crystal ball rolled some inches away from them.

Quinn had a lot to think about.

—

“So, what you’re saying is, Quinn could potentially end us all if they really wanted to. That’s very impressive for someone of their age! Usually it takes many many years of practice to get that far.”

“Baptiste, please say less right now.”

Sylvia was once again exhausted after explaining the entire situation to the rest of the group. She told them what Quinn told her; about the deal with Maven, the orchids, and where they were having their lessons.

Mint was sitting there, holding her hands together. Xid noticed, and she stopped petting her guitar mimic, Fret, to attend to her. “Mint? You alright there, spice?”

“I’m fine,” Mint replied, but Sylvia could probably guess what she was upset about. “…Quinn wasn’t trying to use you. I promise.”

“Oh, no no, I know that. Obviously. But the thing is…when I was at that lab, I felt this sense of dread the entire time. This feeling of death . And now…” Mint bit her lip and rubbed on her tiny ponytail, “…I’m just afraid that she’ll turn up again. Spread death everywhere she goes.”

“It won’t come to that,” Corsac stated, matter of fact. “Back then, Rafta’s Heroes’ Guild was brand new and understaffed. We are now experienced enough to follow her tracks and form a plan. And now that we have eyes inside, we can figure out exactly what her goal is this time.”

Baptiste was told to be silent, so he was simply content with petting the slimes in front of him. They were super cute, and were pretty colors. Sylvia looked over to him, “Baptiste you can speak now.”

“Oh! Good!” Baptiste refrained from the pets for now, “It’s amazing that we have a whole new perspective on this case, of course. However, I fear for the safety of Quinn. As powerful as they are, Maven might still be stronger. With Robin no less. Robin alone could probably overpower them, in both a physical and magical sense.”

“I know…I’m worried about them too,” Sylvia rubbed her forehead, “But Quinn told me they could handle themself. And I should trust them. We should trust them.”

“You’re right,” Xid agreed, getting up from the table and looking over at the cauldron. She smiled, “Well, it’s a good thing Combustopher didn’t, uh- combust this time,” she laughed, “These pizzas look perfect!”

It was Witchfall tomorrow, the holiday where everyone celebrates Robin’s victory and Maven’s defeat. Even though the main festivities weren’t until tomorrow morning, nearly every child on the street was dressed as the noble heroes who fought her. The group didn’t feel right in doing the normal celebrations. Xidriel suggested fresh baked pizza, and now they all had a brand new tradition.

Oswald was out for deliveries again, and Sylvia made sure to make Xid create one large pineapple pizza for him. He would probably refuse, but he deserved it after carrying the shop on his back throughout this ordeal. From her mom’s stories, Sylvia remembered that pineapple was always Oswald’s favorite.

The bard set all of the pizzas down in front of them, with flavors ranging from pepperoni to cactus. She even made some pizza bites for not only her own mimics, Fret and Roadie, but some were set aside for Vendi and eventually Boxer too. Turns out mimics go absolutely insane over tentacle and ham pizza.

Sylvia bit into one of the slices, looking surprisingly mopey. Fret eyed the redhead, which told Xid that something was off. “Okay, I’ve never seen anyone look that moody eating a pizza before. Gotta be some type of talent.”

“…I miss Quinn.”

Mint reached over to hold her forearm, “Hey, I’m sure they’ll be here soon. And once they are they can have all the pizza they want. They work just as hard as us in this case.”

Sylvia nodded, and Xid took a couple bites of her mushroom pizza, dipping it in her homemade pepper sauce. “Are you sure? They might eat an entire pie in one bite. Maybe two.”

“Then make some more,” Sylvia said, without hesitation.

“Awh…You really love them, don’t you?”

Before Sylvia could respond, the bell rang. It was Quinn, and Boxer in front. Before anything else occured, Corsac grabbed the rest of the mini pizza bites and handed them all to the box, who ate everything on the plate with ease.

Mint scooted over so that Quinn could sit down next to Sylvia, and the latter immediately wrapped an arm around their shoulder. They felt…wet. 

“…The Dragon Oasis sucks. Don’t go there.”

“…Noted,” Sylvia replied, kissing their sweaty forehead.

Baptiste scooted a pizza pie over to Quinn, and they immediately began to eat two slices simultaneously. “Now Quinn, once you’ve finished, are you willing to share what you did with Maven to the rest of the party?”

At the query, Boxer jumped up on the table and sat in front of Baptiste; he opened his mouth to project a stack of papers into his face. Quinn could be heard chuckling.

The guildmaster picked up the letter and thanked the gods inwardly that the mimic kept the parchments dry. It was very crudely stapled together, and he got the impression that Quinn liked piercing metal into things just a little bit too much. He skimmed through the pages, “I will look over this statement after I get back to the guild. Thank you very much, Quinn.”

The glutton gave a grunt that roughly translated to ‘you’re welcome’, since their mouth was currently occupied with devouring the pizza in front of them.

Mint raised a hand, and Quinn raised a brow at her, which was enough encouragement for her to speak up. “Can’t we review the paperwork today? So that we can form theories as soon as possible?”

Sylvia spoke for Quinn, “I doubt that Quinn would be down with speaking after they’ve had. They’re probably exhausted…and hungry.” Quinn nodded, over halfway through with their pie already.

“That’s alright, I suppose. We were set to prepare for Witchfall tomorrow, so we can always look over the papers then.”

“You’re still doing the celebration…?”

“Unfortunately, in order to keep our cover, we kinda have to. Don’t want anyone to suspect anything is off if we just decide to stop celebrating one day.”

Sylvia hung her head, thinking about all of those heroes still unaware that there is a greater evil that they weren’t capable of destroying. Quinn noticed her mood and grumpily handed over their last two slices over to her. It was just pepperoni; Sylvia’s favorite.

“You very nearly ate my favorite pizza right in front of me?”

“Hey, I nearly did,” Quinn replied, landing their head on her shoulder.

Throughout the entire night, Quinn tried to fight in and out of sleep. The heat from the oasis, the heaviness of the pizza, and the darkness of the ideas and possibilities of this mission clouding their head, was beckoning Quinn into sleep. Throughout their tired eyes, they saw the mimics all playing together behind them, with Xid and Corsac making sure they didn’t break anything. Another instant saw Sylvia and Mint exchanging notes of the case with each other, Mint with her binder and Sylvia with her tablet. And finally, they opened their eyes to all of the heroes leaving.

“Hey, honeybee. You ready for bed?” Sylvia whispered in their ear, her voice as gentle as a griffin’s feather. Quinn sloggily rose their head, and before they knew it they were scooped up in her arms. Only one thought formed in their head as Sylvia’s arms supported their torso and legs. “…You’re getting stronger…”

Once their head hit the pillow of the bed, they finally accepted sleep.

Chapter Text

Sylvia wouldn’t like to call herself a stalker, but she loved watching Quinn sleep.

The way their eyes looked so peaceful, and healthy, which is a rarity. The way their hair always somehow got into their face. The way they clutch their crystal ball tight to themself. 

It was absolutely hypnotizing.

Sylvia couldn’t stare at them for long, though, she had to create potions for today’s shift. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Probably because Oswald didn’t return home. She was certain that it was because he just got too tired to get back and simply rented a hotel room for the night, but some part of her worried that Maven might’ve gotten to him. She might’ve taken him and used him for ransom, or experimentation, or worse-

“Don’t pinch your forehead so much, dear. You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Sylvia shot up from her cauldron and looked over to the little trapdoor underneath the slime habitat. Two eyes poked out from the darkness. “Roxanne…?”

The demoness in question raised the trap door a bit higher so that her entire face was visible. “Mind coming down here for a moment? I wouldn’t want to wake Quinn up from their slumber. Awh…their cheeks look so pinchable.”

For once, Sylvia agreed with her. But if she did pinch their cheeks, they might bite off her finger. As she ventured down the ladder, part of her wondered if that was a risk worth taking.

There was an immediate surprise as she walked down here. It wasn’t hot. Well, it was a bit stuffy, but it didn’t feel like Sylvia was melting into jelly for once. She looked around and immediately figured out why. The lava river was completely cleared.

Sylvia didn’t check in here much after the whole Maven mission started, so she didn’t check the progress Roxanne made on moving house. Her mouth was agape at the now empty cavern at the end of the large room. “Wow it…it’s gone.”

Roxanne purred, a hiss coming from her precious Ceras crawling around her waist. The serpent was now about seven feet long, her horns growing to be really impressive. “Me and Cece have been working really hard to prepare for moving house as soon as possible. It took a lot of coin to get that river to finally be clogged up, but with my guidance and some of your Fire Resistance potions, I was able to make it somewhat livable for a human. And now…”

She strutted over to a far wall and clicked on a switch. Sylvia watched as the space around her was lit up, and there was a simple plain dresser, a mirror, and a large queen bed planted right in the corner. “Is…Is that mine?”

“Oh, no. It’s Cece’s. We just haven’t moved yet.”

Sylvia looked into Roxanne’s eyes, which were filled with mischief. “You know, you’re such a good liar it’s hard to tell when you’re joking sometimes.”

“Why thank you!” Roxanne smiled fondly. “I offered Saffron more coins for this set, but she said that it was free of charge, since it’s for you.”

“W-What? Saffron did this for free?!”

“Yes. I just said that.”

“S-Sorry, It’s just,” Sylia took the liberty of sitting on the new bed, the cream sheets so soft she felt like she was on a sheep’s back. She didn’t get to complete the sentence as she fully succumbed herself to the blankets and pillows. She was out cold in seconds.

Roxanne watched the puny person sleep on her new bed, and she couldn’t help but smile. She was proud of the little one.

“Roxanne…that you?”

Quinn slid down the ladder, letting out a yawn as they looked around the new place. They were clearly still tired, but the stupor was quickly wearing off. Cece slithered off her mother’s body and went to greet Quinn. They gave a tiny pet to the creature’s nose, to which she flicked her forked tongue momentarily.

“So, you’re really leaving this place, huh?”

Roxanne bowed her head, “Yes. Though, I’d have to sleep in a hotel for a few weeks before my house is created. Saffron is a rather quick worker, she made that entire set for Sylvia in about two days.”

“Woah…” Quinn’s eyes rounded when they caught sight of the bed. “That thing’s huge!”

“That’s a good thing. It’s made for two. Oh, which reminds me-!”

Roxanne grabbed a stray cardboard box and lifted out the contents. There were two sets of pajamas, one a lavender set with a matching silk top and bottoms, and the other is the same but in black. “I know you’re not the most fashionable type, Quinn, but I do believe that you deserve at least one set of sleeping attire. The fact that you willingly sleep in that same sweater every night is, frankly, sad…and a bit stinky.”

Quinn grimaced; it hurt because she was telling the truth.

Her tail flicked happily as she handed Quinn the set, “Now change. It’s around three, you still have some hours to catch up to. Besides, I think Sylvia’s a bit cold~”

That was an absolute lie; it was still hot in here despite the absence of magma, and even if it was chilly, the thick sheets around Sylvia should shield her from any sort of cold that could form. But…Quinn couldn’t really find any reason not to sleep beside her. “…Fine.”

Roxanne pulled out her changing wall and let Quinn settle into their new attire. When they came out, they looked like they could be sold in toy stores all over the world. “Oh, look at you. Aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’m not cute…” they grumbled, but they were too sleepy to argue any further, which just made Roxanne coo even more. “Yes yes, you’re the most terrifying creature I ever saw. Yes you are~”

“Alright, alright…get outta here, I gotta head to bed,” Quinn ordered, rubbing their eyes and sluggishly walking over to the mattress. Roxanne and Cece gave their goodbyes before leaving the basement for the final time.

Quinn slumped on the bed, face first into the incredibly fluffy pillows. As they settled into the new digs, they felt Sylvia slowly wrap around them. Her face landed in their hair, her snores remained as loud as ever.

That night, Quinn had the best sleep they’ve had in years.

—

The couple’s first actually domestic morning together, one that wasn’t on a rickety pull out bed, was actually pretty nice. Sylvia complimented Quinn’s jammies, they begrudgingly accepted it. They got breakfast together, still in the clothes they’ve slept in, in a diner not far from the potions shop. They talked about how today is going to pan out, it being Witchfall and all, and they both agreed that Maven would probably be the most excited this day than any other, so Quinn assumed that she would be in the cave, another scheme on her mind. They would have to separate, again, but at least they had pancakes and french toast sticks and mimosas together. At least they got to talk about how their businesses were doing, and how last night went. How their friends laughed and stayed positive even throughout all these confusing revelations. At least they got to kiss once or twice, in the comforting light of the morning sun pouring through the cafe windows.

As Quinn headed to the oasis, they already deeply missed Sylvia. When this was all over, they wouldn’t leave her side for a month, at least.

Boxer also seemed to be lungful for her, or at the very least missing the scent of her. She smelled like fire, magic, and ramen. She had a wonderful smell.

“Cinder? Wake up, we have work to do!”

Quinn shook their head awake, the memories and hopes wafting through their vision now being put at the back of their mind for now. “What do you need this time, Your Highness?”

Maven held the final flower in her hands. The Orchid of the Beast’s Love. Quinn couldn’t help but be humored by the way the gigantic rose absolutely did not fit into Maven’s tiny hands. “That thing is the size of your head!”

“I know, this should make a very fine potion indeed~” She seemed particularly malicious today, she held the beautiful rose and was absolutely ecstatic by the prospect of crushing those red petals to dust. Quinn walked up to the edge of the cauldron pot. “So, I assume I need to sing a love song.”

“Ugh..love songs are the bane of my existence. Nothing but false promises and heteronormative drivel. But, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Quinn agreed with Maven. Again. 

They stared at the rose longer. It seemed to…beckon them. It glowed the entire room in deep maroon. It filled their entire mind with its story. “…Can I hold it?”

Maven clenched her teeth, staring at Quinn with eyes of…confusion? Curiosity? “…Fine.” With that, she handed Quinn the flower, and immediately they were taken over by a vision.

Suddenly, they were in a dark ballroom. Absolutely no lights in sight, all except for two. Two people were dancing. One wore a dress that was as light as the sun, the other towered over its partner in a way that couldn’t be described as anything else but monstrous. Regardless of their size, stature, attire, and species, they were still hopelessly and endlessly in love.

As they skinned around Quinn, a memory popped into their head. Of Sylvia and them, waltzing in that garden, without anyone else to judge or admire them. The similarities filled them with an unknown emotion. 

Despite everything, they were able to dance.

When they awoke from their vision, they saw that the bulb was already ripped apart, and the cauldron was a deep red, with bits of dark pink to almost mask the fact that the elixir looked like blood.

“You didn’t have to sing this time…it opened when you touched it~”

Maven sounded ecstatic. Why? “Why?”

“…Don’t worry about the why, my dear Cinder. We got it done, and that is all that matters,” the queen smiled.

“No…No I will worry about the why. I know you know something, why are you dodging it?” Quinn asked, clenching the now wilting flower in their palms. 

“…Do you wish to know more about my past, my apprentice? I believe you have earned the right.”

No, they didn’t. Quinn wanted to know about their past. Why Maven is interested in their monocle, what was their monocle even. Who it belonged to. How it came into their possession. How and why they were the only person allowed to sing life into those orchids again. But asking was too much of a hassle. They knew they couldn’t get anywhere.

“…Fine.”

“When I was younger, me and my family moved to Rafta to escape from some bad people. People who couldn’t handle that some cultures lived differently than others. It was very small at the time, but we kept to ourselves, in a large land that we only had to ourselves. But then…my parents died of sickness, and then my grandparents. And then it was only me…”

There was still something she was hiding. Quinn could tell by the way she averted her eyes and how her voice decayed into a whisper. Always form a lie from the truth.

“…I learned about my abilities; mastered them. Made sure I was the best clairvoyant the entire world had ever encountered. And then I took power…And then I got everything I could ever want.” Maven smiled again, gleeful at the memory of her reign. “…You see, I’m not just a stranger that decided one day that I wanted to be an evil sorceress. I came from actual nothing, and I took many years of my life working towards becoming the queen I always knew I could be. All of that work deserves to be rewarded, don’t you think?”

“Yea. I agree, it does.” But…

“…You are plenty of a reward, my princen,” Maven said, reaching her paw over to pet Quinn’s hat. It was tender, her fingers gently caressing the fabric and taking care to show her gratitude.

They cried. They let the tears flow over themself. Quinn was being appreciated, for the second time in their life. By someone they knew doesn’t deserve their affection or help. Maven was everything they wanted in a mentor. She wasn’t too annoying, she didn’t force Quinn to do things they didn’t want to do, she recognized their talents and agreed to nurture them and help them discover things that have been long hidden away from their identity. But now that Quinn knows, or is at least close to knowing, they aren’t sure what to do to figure out those last little pieces.

But for now, all they could say was “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…Now, what should we do for Witchfall, hmm?”

“Wait…” Quinn backed up from her and tilted their head, “You want to celebrate Witchfall together?”

“I have no one else to celebrate with. Besides, haven’t you ever wondered how Robin, or the marvelous Queen Maven would celebrate this holiday?” Maven purred, planting herself on Robin’s clavicle once again. Quinn nodded, “I mean…yea. Sure.” 

They very much doubted that Sylvia would be free out of her busy shifts at the shop to spend the holiday with them or any of the party. Also some sick part of them was curious. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, no adventurer will be able to gather at the castle today, I imagine. We could have a lovely holiday together.”

Quinn should say no. They should leave and spend the day with Sylvia, with their friends. But…it was too far gone now. In Maven’s castle held the secrets she’s so adamant in hiding. No matter how bad of an idea this was, being alone in an abandoned laboratory and castle with the evil empress that took over the entirety of Rafta and terrorized everyone in her wake. But Quinn had to know. No matter the cost.

“…Lead the way, Your Majesty.”

—

Sylvia was grateful every day that she no longer had to handle this business alone.

Witchfall was always a somewhat busy part of the year, however the amount of people walking to her shop, all in costumes of the dead heroes and, most of all, the hero that didn’t deserve the praise, made her burn out faster than any other day. Now that it was getting dusk, the customers lessened. All except for one.

“Back already, Roxanne…?”

Roxanne hummed as she planted her hand on the counter like always, “Well, I need an emergency potion. My poor Cece is a bit too antsy in the hotel, I’m afraid. I need an Insight…possibly a Thunder Tonic too.”

“Can do…” Sylvia reached into her storage and grabbed both potions, which encouraged Oswald to restock on Thunder Tonics. “I’m grateful that you have given the basement over to Sylvia. Everyone knows she deserves it,” he said, with pride in his voice, as he placed various ingredients in one of the sparkling cauldrons.

“It was the least I can do, Oswald. You both have done impeccable things for me.” Roxanne was grateful, which was getting more of an occurrence every day. “Now chin up, Sylvia. If you frown like that, you’ll look like an elephant before you’re forty.” Luckily, the burns never left.

Sylvia obeyed and lifted her head up, rolling back her shoulders. Roxanne took the liberty to ask, “Where’s Quinn? How are they celebrating the holiday?”

Oh…Oh no. Quinn’s not back. “…I…I don’t know.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes and groaned, “All of this planning about taking down the former Queen of Rafta herself and you didn’t even bother to give Quinn a phone yet?”

“How did you…Nevermind,” Sylvia ran a hand over her hair, she knew full well the trapdoor couldn’t hide the many discussions she had with the adventurers. Roxanne probably had a way of finding out, anyway.

But then, something strange happened. Roxanne frowned and leaned over the counter, hands planted in front of her and eyes staring right at Sylvia’s. She was serious. “Listen…I think you might want to check in on Quinn sometime soon. I’ve heard you speak about what they told you. And I have the feeling that Maven is one of those expert manipulators. The type that can get away with clawing out eyes of people and somehow still manage to wipe their hands clean in the public eye.”

She was absolutely right. Maven got away with it for twenty years. Roxanne continued, “Quinn adores danger. We both do. It’s practically part of our personalities. However, I think Maven knows that. And she also knows how lonely Quinn has been for so long.”

“What are you saying?” Sylvia asked, exasperated, and now filled with worry.

“…What I’m saying is there may come a point very very soon where they won’t think about the consequences before diving head first into something bad. And…they won’t be able to escape after falling that deep,” Roxanne’s voice broke, but she concealed it expertly, “Maven could promise them many things and not follow through. Some part of me is worried that Quinn might just be another ingredient in a concoction for her.”

“But what if they’re on their way back?” Oswald asked, fueling Combustopher with fuel.

“They could be. But, I think me and Sylvia both agree that taking a risk with Maven is a recipe for disaster.”

“…I think we should trust them,” said Sylvia, staring down at the wooden counter. Roxanne raised her eyes, a hand clutching her neck. “What? So you’re saying we should leave Quinn to deal with the psychopathic lizard?”

“Well, no. But they said they could handle her. And I believe them,” Sylvia sat up, rolling back her shoulders and trying to ignore the anxious sweat running down her brow, “I’m worried sick about them, of course. But they told me that they would call for my help if anything gets bad. I just…I just have to trust the process.”

“But, Sylvia-“

“Hello hello! Remember me?” A chipper voice was heard, and Luna scampered into the potions shop. “Oh, hello Roxanne. You remember me, don’t you? Luna, from the gala. We searched for Quinn to deal with the whole Cinderella debacle, remember?”

“Yes, yes. I remember you, Luna. Greetings,” Roxanne waved her hand, a bit exasperated. Luna’s eyes shone before looking over at Roxanne, completely ignoring Sylvia and Oswald. “That reminds me! I did a tonnn more research on Voya and that particular technique. And then it led me to this rabbit hole, about those fairytales, and all the theories that popped up about them over the years.”

“And your point?” Roxanne asked. “I’m getting to that, don’t worry! Oh, Sylvia should hear about this too, since Quinn’s their partner and all. Oswald can listen in too.” Luna pulled out her tablet and stood it up on the counter, displaying a slideshow. It was immensely impressive, the decorations and transition animations were immaculate. What caught Sylvia most was the title. ‘How Fairytales Are Formed and Why We Might Be Living in One.’

Luna chippered, “Buckle up! This iceberg’s a pretty big one!”

Chapter Text

The castle was bigger than it was last time, at least to Quinn. The broken glass windows were larger, the brick darker, the decrepit chandeliers heavier. Like meteors threatening to fall from the sky at any moment.

Robin’s voice echoed throughout the castle, “It’s so refreshing to not have any of those blasted twerps searching through my humble abode. They even took the curtains!”

The shattered marble floor echoed beneath Quinn’s feet. Boxer was floating behind them, guided by their leash. It was cold here, and dusty. “What plans do you have in mind?”

“Why, we are going to celebrate, of course! By a buffet!”

Maven got to Quinn’s greatest weakness. Copious amounts of food.

“An entire buffet? How?”

Robin snapped his fingers and suddenly some of the scraps of metal decided to move. Quinn watched as the pieces of armor slowly formed into a complete being. And then another formed. And another. Until eventually a quartet of sentient armor was standing before them. The wizard smiled and snapped his fingers again, and soon they all retreated, in unison, to the kitchens. “It’s amazing what simple practical magic can do sometimes.”

“I mean…yea that was pretty awesome.”

“‘Pretty awesome’, indeed.”

Robin led Quinn to the dining room, or what was left of a dining room. The scent of burnt wood and mold immediately invaded their nose. The table was still barely standing, and some colored glass was all over the burned wooden surface. Most of the chairs were completely wrecked, except for two or three at the far end of the table. Some magic brooms swept away the rubble and glass and Robin gleefully walked over to one of the chairs, motioning for Quinn to take another. If they would ever have a fancy dinner with a queen, this was probably the best it was gonna be for Quinn; the vibes are absolutely off the charts.

Another snap, and the brooms all scrambled into a pile of cobblestone in the far corner, and with one fire cantrip, the wood and straw engulfed into flames. It was a fireplace, once. Still is, technically, but didn’t exactly have the typical appeal of one. At least the mold smell was wearing off due to the heat.

“Tea, my dear?” Robin asked, a floating teacup held together by only glue and a dream appearing and pouring out two cups. Quinn silently accepted and took a small sip of the concoction. Could it be…? “…Earl Grey…?”

The castle owner’s eyes widened and a guffaw came out soon after, “I didn’t know you were such an expert on tea, Cinder. Frankly, I’m surprised that those packets still managed to survive after all this time.”

Quinn didn’t necessarily say it tasted good . It was about as pleasant as twenty year old tea leaves could taste; like dead grass.

“I wonder…will you get any visions off of it?”

Quinn shrugged, “I mean, I can try? But it depends on where you got this stuff in the first place. The subject might be too far away from me at the moment.”

“Ah, might be too far. I initially got these leaves from back home. In Voya,” he answered, taking another sip of tea.

“Voya…?” Quinn repeated. The place where all clairvoyants originated from. What got them to feel like something special for one day. Where their greatest mystery was.

“That demon, Roxanne, told you about it, yes? Along with that fly.”

“Pretty sure she’s a moth,” Quinn corrected.

“Sure, Sure,” Robin uttered, taking a slow sip of tea, “Anyways, my family came from that place, many many years ago. We only ventured off to Rafta once things got bad.”

“How bad?”

“…I don’t think you would want to know how bad it got.”

Quinn winced. That was probably true.

Robin finished his beverage and politely wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “I want to do another experiment with you. Involving what you did at that gala.”

The apprentice raised their brows, “You want to try to do that whole schtick again?”

“Just think of it as an initiation. From the prologue to the next chapter of your apprenticeship. A nice little bow to wrap it up,” Robin held the tiny crystal on his cravat. “Instead of your crystal ball, I’d like to experiment and use my own this time.”

Quinn tensed up and gave her a quizzical look, “Why…?”

“I am the one most experienced with this technique. I remember long ago when my parents did this for their anniversary. It was lovely…” His eyes wandered off, a melancholy smile formed. “…I want to attempt it myself. I took all the potions that I suspect Roxanne had used.” With that, Robin pulled out some potions, all seemingly of his own make. Quinn sniffed, they definitely smelled different from Sylvia’s.

Robin continued, “Now, I will attempt this myself, however I want you to hold onto my crystal.”

“But I don’t know any illusion spells that might help out with this.”

“This involves you. You are my muse. The subject who will be adorned with something that fits the name of ‘Cinder.’”

“Are you sure…?” Quinn asked, clutching onto their own crystal.

“As sure I could ever be,” Robin grinned, before his face suddenly became slack. Maven crawled to the top of his head. “Now, apprentice, I will take these potions and you will hold onto both of these crystals.”

Quinn didn’t really have much choice. It was just clothes. That’s all it was. So why were they suddenly so tense? They stood up from their seat and walked over to Robin’s body. They placed a finger on the cravat and another on Maven’s chest. “Got it…”

The potions floated over to Maven’s mouth, the visage of the potions being gulped down by something so small was close to grotesque. “Alright…Close your eyes, Cinder.”

Quinn obeyed, closing out the world around themself. They got chills, from the cracked window shining down the evening sun, but then their vision was surrounded by silver. Two couples danced around them, as happy as ever. But then, the four of them erupted. Their gray turned into pure fire and brimstone, and the smoke engulfed Quinn’s entire being. They almost felt like they were about to choke on the flames’ wrath, but then, they suddenly woke up.

Maven’s face was pure joy. A malicious joy, of a plan finally coming together. Or getting close to coming together. “You look perfect~”

Quinn shook their head and immediately felt a weight on their shoulders. A cape. A short one, thankfully, but it was still quite heavy, as it seemed to be made of the blackest leather. They looked down to see they were wearing a dark cream button up, with frayed sleeves that billowed at their wrists, and it was complimented by a black corset clenching their waist for dear life. They wore leather pants, aided by silk cascading down the hips to their behind, leaving the legs relatively free to roam, but leather anything was bound to be impossible to move in. They had boots, but not the practical ones, the ones who are more giant pieces of jewelry than actual clothing; they were mainly black with splashes of gold and a bit of crimson red. There were rings on their fingers too, one sharing the same red gem. And one final accessory was wrapping around their forehead, finally pronouncing their twisted status.

It was a crown. A circlet, specifically, with gold detailing that made it almost look like dragon’s wings, and a deep blood red jewel was at the very center. It matched their eyes perfectly. It took everything in Quinn’s power to not grimace in front of the mirror. “Is…Is this how you see me?”

Maven scampered up Quinn’s cape and scanned them as she explored. “I suppose so…I didn’t expect it to be this detailed, though. This is even more extravagant than the one you wore way back when.”

That was true, but Quinn wasn’t sure that was a good thing. It was already getting too hot in this. It was around seven o’clock now, it was gonna be five hours before this disappeared. Footsteps were heard nearby, along with the clanking of metal and silverware. Maven shot her head up from Quinn’s shoulder. “Oh! The buffet has finally arrived! Settle down, Cinder, you should rest. Relax. Enjoy your time here.”

Maven went back to Robin’s form, and Quinn slowly sat down in their seat, watching as floating chainmail delivered the absurdly large meal. They saw their reflection in the plates.

It didn’t look like them anymore.

—

Luna’s slideshow at first consisted of the basic themes in all fairytales. That being, a moral lesson, a villain or obstacle, and a hero who ends up being royalty. However, there is another theme that Luna points out. “Each one of the heroes is magic. No, not the kind of magic that stumbles upon them suddenly, they are magic. I mean, come on, how did Snow White eat literal poison and not die? How did the Frog Princess kiss that prince back to normal, it can’t be true love they just met like thirty minutes prior! Plus she’d absolutely get salmonella. And Cinderella…well it’s my theory that she was a clairvoyant. They always carry crystals, and, I mean, the glass slipper motif is a bit obvious in hindsight, right?”

The trio were listening intently, but Oswald raised a hand, “So you are saying that somehow they all happen to be bestowed magical gifts? Doesn’t change much, does it?”

“Well, that by itself? Of course not. But then I’ve learned something else,” the moth clicked to the next slide. “They all supposedly were really great singers! ”

They all blinked. Luna blinked back, “Listen, I-I have a point I promise.”

“Then make it,” Roxanne grumbled, crossing her arms. Sylvia leaned forward, planting her hands on the wood beneath her. Despite everyone else, she was actually more interested in that tidbit. Luna continued, “What I mean to say is their voices could do wondrous things! I think it was almost the source of their power! They could form ice! They could summon fauna and flora! They could even change gloomy skies to a perfect summer day! I-I know this might sound like it’s been dramaticized over the years for the sake of telling a good story, but…I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“No…” Sylvia spoke up, “I don’t think so, either.” Oswald and Roxanne exchanged a perplexed look with each other and then back to Sylvia. “Wait, Sylvia,” Oswald spoke, “You seriously aren’t suggesting-“

“Luna, can you continue, please?” Sylvia asked, bouncing her leg.

“Of course!” The researcher clicked to the next image, which showed decrepit drawings of what seemed to be flowers. “I also found these drawings of flowers on the back of some very old fairytale retellings. Most of them I found on images of the museum in the continent. Some of them are similar, the Orchid of the Ice Princess for example. But there are some more, said to be extinct. I translated the words written down next to the images.”

Sylvia frowned and raised her hands. “Can I…take a guess on what the extinct flowers are?”

“Go ahead, but I don’t think-“

“Orchid of the Dozen Dancers, Orchid of the Beast’s Love, and Orchid of the Siren Maiden.”

Luna fluffed all over in excitement, “Wow! That’s right!” She showed the next slide to show the translated texts. “How did you-“

“ Because Quinn is being manipulated by an undead lizard queen with an adult boy slave!!”

The moth gulped before going to the next slide. “…And h-here are my sources, if you wanna-“

Sylvia clutched her head, to which Oswald responded by putting a hand on her back. “Sylvia, I know this all might sound like it fits perfectly into place, but don’t you think-

“It’s not a coincidence, Oswald! Maven knows exactly what Quinn is! That’s why she asked for them!”

“I know! I know it’s not a coincidence, but we aren’t going to help Quinn if you don’t take a breath!”

Sylvia took some breaths, but they were haggard and quick. Oswald gave an example, breathing in…and out. His niece began to follow along. In…and out. In…and out.

Eventually the two paired breathing patterns and Sylvia was calmer. Luna awkwardly hid her mouth underneath her phone. “I-I don’t understand. I know that Quinn has the ability, but what does Maven have to-“

“Luna,” Roxanne patted the bug’s head. “I’ll explain everything in the basement. Let’s leave the family alone for now, okay?”

“O-Okay…” Luna nervously grabbed her tablet and went down to the basement with her eyes scattered and confused. Sylvia groaned and planted her face on the desk. Oswald huffed, “You know, I don’t think making out with the mahogany is a good way to help Quinn, either. I think our priority is to inform the party about all this.”

“I’m helping Quinn.”

The hazel eyes widened, “B-But you said that-“

“Quinn deserves to know,” Sylvia slowly rose back up, “And, like Roxanne said, I was stupid enough not to get them a phone already. They should be in the Dragon’s Oasis,” Sylvia grabbed her broom and a couple of Fire Resistance potions. “I’m going to-“

“Wait, my niece, wait!” Oswald stood in front of her. “You said you could trust them, didn’t you? Don’t you-“

“Of course I trust them. I do. But this news needs to be given to them, one way or the other.”

“I can just deliver a letter to them, it’s-“

“In the Dragon’s Oasis? No,” Sylvia also picked up a couple of water bottles before wrapping her satchel around the broomstick. Oswald sighed, “But…but what if you get hurt…”

Sylvia stopped. Oswald put a hand over his eyes, “What if…What if Maven hurts you and I can’t-“

“Uncle,” Oswald felt his hand being slowly pulled away, revealing that she was giving a small smile, her eyes bright. “I’ll be fine. Can I ask that you trust me too?”

“Of…Of course I can, dear niece.” The eldest patted her head, and the younger responded by scruffing up his mane. “I’ll be right back. If I don’t find them, I’ll just text.”

With that, the frumpy adventurer picked up her broom and headed out the door. Oswald waved goodbye, watching her fly away. He heaved out a sigh, but he felt something slimy crawl up his hand. It was the violet slime, it seemed to want pets.

The other slimes were there too, exploring various parts of his arms. Some of them even tried to chew on his arm hairs. Oswald had to admit, it was adorable. And calming.

He inwardly prayed to whatever higher power was listening that Quinn and Sylvia were alright.

—

The buffet was…alright. It was better than expected, with it coming from a dusty and decrepit castle. Maven talked about a variety of different things, mostly about how she taught herself to brew potions. How she climbed the social ladder as Robin. But throughout it all, Quinn still got the sense that she was hiding something. A piece was missing from her story.

The moon shone above them, and now the night chill made their whole costume less unbearable. Maven smiled at them as the ghostly armor picked up the plates and wandered away. “That was absolutely lovely, Cinder.”

Quinn nodded, “Yea.”

Maven possessed Robin’s form once again so she could dab the stained mouth with a tissue. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to gather my thoughts before we continue with our Witchfall festivities.”

“‘Gather your thoughts…?’” Quinn mimicked.

“Yes. It’s a nightly ritual I have where I try to have a vision per night. With my power dwindling, I always try to practice my abilities when the moon shines brightest. No particular reason, I simply like the ambiance.” Robin chuckled before grabbing his cane and briskly walking away. “Stay right there, Cinder. I’ll be back.”

The guest heard the footsteps get fainter and fainter until there were none. They smirked and got up from their chair. Never, under any circumstances, tell Quinn to sit still.

It was plundering time. The psychic and their mimic immediately went out of the dining hall, stepping over burned wood and rock, so that they could reach the other wing of the castle, or what was left of it. They went to the entryway and saw stairs climb up to the second floor. Of course, the stairs were just a pile of bricks now. But they could make this work.

“Okay, Boxer, can you carry me up there, boy?” They whispered, pointing at the balcony looking down upon them. Boxer yipped and immediately caused Quinn to plant their bottom on him. Despite Boxer’s tiny exterior, mimics were actually quite strong. They had to be in order to eat flesh and bone. So getting from the bottom of the stairs to the balcony wasn’t too much of a hassle.

Quinn landed on the ripped apart carpet beneath them. This floor was a lot more dusty than the first one, and they had to cough in their hand as they ventured further into the halls.

On the walls, there was very old paint chipped away, and a couple of photos. Most of them were artwork of Maven, commissioned by her slaves, though they were completely decimated. Her visage was barely visible on any of them. The wood creaked beneath Quinn’s feet, so they had to get creative by tiptoeing so that they wouldn’t make too much noise, which was absurdly hard to do with the boots.

It was almost like a dream come true. Quinn was exploring Maven’s castle. The castle where all those heroes lost their lives and the most powerful sorceress who ever lived took refuge. They should feel thrilled, exhilarated, about the prospect of uncovering secrets the heroes never could.

But…throughout these weeks, Quinn sort of felt…off. Their mind went back to Mint at the greenhouse. Dread.

Most of the rooms were the same thing; ransacked by adventurers or destroyed during the battle twenty years ago. But there was one room, which Quinn caught at the corner of their eye. It was a trapdoor, which was blocked by fallen wooden beams. Quinn took a deep breath, so that’s how it’s gonna be. “Boxer. Stay here. You can’t fit through here.”

The mimic whimpered and Quinn immediately shushed him, “I know, precious, I know…I promise I’ll come back for you, okay? Keep quiet until then, okay boy?” Boxer closed his mouth and looked down, disappointed. Quinn gave a quick kiss right on his top surface. “You’re the best boy, Boxer. The best.”

Boxer’s tongue stuck out and they gave another kiss before finally allowing him to hide someplace in the cold and damp.

The explorer sucked in their chest and finally began to crawl through the beams. Surprisingly, their outfit served well for this portion of the adventure. The leather and gold helped shield them from any stray nails or splinters that could’ve pierced them, and by the time they finally crawled through the trapdoor, they were unscathed. Their clothes got ripped here or there, but Quinn certainly couldn’t care less.

The basement was unexpected. There weren’t any artifacts or strange objects hidden here. Inside, there were pictures. And only pictures.

The old photos were scattered on the floor. Quinn couldn’t recognize any of the people. Some were women in red wedding dresses, some were having a tea ceremony, some were holding newborns in their arms. But they all looked similar to each other. Was this…Was this Maven’s family?

Just then, a void appeared, and Quinn instantly hid in the shadows. A spare crate served as a mediocre cover, but they quickly had to gather up their cape so it wasn’t visible.

The vortex expanded, and Maven appeared. She was wearing Robin’s form again, looking extremely frustrated. His eyes dilated and his brows were furrowed together. His perfect teeth were clenched. But he took a breath, and as soon as the anger appeared, it dissipated. He then gathered up a smile and wandered off down the trapdoor.

Quinn watched him leave and turned back. The void was still there. Well, now was as good a time as anything for a bad idea.

They got up and crawled through the portal.

Chapter Text

So this is what being at the top of the world looks like. Cold and dusty.

The tower’s room was more cramped than it looked from Quinn’s vision. Even though they just saw Maven come out of this chamber, it still looked like it was abandoned for a while. The curtained windows were open, letting the cold dusk breeze come in and give Quinn goosebumps. It smelled like old magic, whatever that meant; estus and mold attacked their sinuses. While all of the magical trinkets were safely put away, the bookshelves and chests were rotting, almost dead.

The crystal ball was there; tiny, broken shards were clinging together, desperately holding on to what pathetic semblance of magic they still have. It was almost saddening.

But Quinn didn’t have time to reflect on that, they had to hurry up. Initial inspection doesn’t lead to too many results, surprisingly enough. There were a ton of tomes that were probably very rare and resourceful, but the language depicted wasn’t in their wheelhouse. Of course, the elixirs were in that display glass they saw through Maven’s eyes. All three filled their spots perfectly; one slot was still empty.

Quinn shivered. It was getting colder.

The explorer was suddenly grateful for the cape, or else they most likely would’ve been too freezing to continue on. They clenched onto the fabric before searching through the other shelves to find that book. ‘Fairytales of Grimm’ was exactly where Maven left it.

They impulsively tore open the book, accidentally getting some notes scattered out, to which they quickly picked up. It read a lot of magimins and theories that their own mind wasn’t strong enough to comprehend, but the last thing that fell out was pretty easy to understand.

It was a photo. The bookmark Maven used. It depicted Maven, much younger now, and someone else beside her.

Quinn picked up the vignette, the matte coating stained with age. They felt their heart stop and their ribs get heavier.

They recognized the second person; and had a good feeling who they were.

But they needed confirmation, the only way they knew how. Breathing in, they licked the photo and quickly grasped their crystal and closed their eyes. Come on, come on, come on…

Blackness coated them for a while, but the familiar sensation of their senses turning off one by one still happened. Their eyes opened, but it was still black.

Then, suddenly, an image spread around their vision, like a vintage camera activating. Maven was standing there, her arms crossed, her partially dyed hair cascading over her eye. “This is dumb! Mom and Dad are waiting for us to finish packing!”

Voices…they’ve never heard voices from their visions before. Young Maven had the same accent as she did currently; of someone way too confident and pompous for her own good.

“Maven! This is our last day here! Can’t you at least take this one photo?” A different voice; masculine, and way more like their age.

“Fine, just hurry up already!” As Maven finished her teenage complaints, a few clicks and taps of buttons unseen were completed, and the second person finally backed up. They had the same skin as Maven’s, the same hair color, and even the same height. But this one was very different, the most prominent one being their eyes. They were the brightest gold they’ve ever seen.

“Stop ogling, Malachi! That thing has a timer!”

“I know! Jeez,” the sibling, Malachi, finally backed up and wrapped an arm around Maven’s shoulders. Despite how much the pubescent witch wanted to act all tough, a ghost of a smile still formed on her lips. Malachi looked toward the lens and gave a bright smile, but stopped, looking down at the collar of his patterned shirt. He pulled out a necklace, with a golden circlet and a-

…Not a necklace. A monocle. 

There was a click, and white cascaded everything.

By the time Quinn woke up, they were sitting on the floor. The photo was in between their legs, and they picked it up to put it back in its rightful place. They tried to ignore the aching black hole forming in their being, which right now was getting very difficult.

Everything suddenly became too hot. Quinn wished they could just have this stupid cape off already. Sweat poured down their collared neck and they tore open some of the shirt buttons in order to breathe again. They wanted their monocle back. 

The clairvoyant looked down and placed the haunting picture back where it came from, and right next to it was a drawing. It was Cinderella. She was running down the stairs, and her lone glass slipper was behind her. There was a description next to the illustration.

‘Though many claim that the shoes were simply magic from the Fairy Godmother, there are many hints that support the Clairvoyant Cinderella theory. Some say that the slippers weren’t glass at all; they were crystal. It would explain why the shoes didn’t disappear along with the rest of her outfit at midnight. And it is even said that she did all the magic herself, praying to a tree that her mother had planted and eventually being granted the iconic dress and shoes. Though, some say she always had the shoes, and thus Cinderella had incredible power beyond belief, maybe even some of those abilities helped with her disguise. Though this provides another query, that being clairvoyants not being powerful enough to conjure up something from nothing…’

The rest of the description became pointless at their point. Quinn wanted to rip apart the entire thing.

‘Cinder’…Cinderella.

Gods, they were an idiot.

“Interesting theory, isn’t it, Cinder?”

At the sound of her voice, Quinn hung their head. They heard Maven’s chuckle. “Really, I’m surprised it took you so long to catch on to your nickname. I do love double entendres.”

Before the princen could clench the papers under their fist, the book floated away from their hands and back into the bookshelf. Robin was once again using himself as a platform for Maven, and he had a cup in his hands. It smelled sweet.

Maven dug her claws into Robin’s robes, “It’s getting late, Cinder. Have some tea before you go, it’ll help with the chill.”

Quinn stood there, frozen, not being able to say a word. They were silent. They couldn’t think of anything else; they could only feel.

It was agonizing. Horrifying.

Quinn never should’ve come here.

But then, the adrenaline finally started to kick in, and they ripped off their cloak to blind the wizard. The cup shattered on the floor as Quinn managed to leap on the edge of the window. They put two fingers to their mouth to whistle for their broom. As they saw the object come into view, the sweetness from the now spilt tea permeated their nose.

They reached one leg out to their vehicle, and suddenly the world spun. Tuts were heard behind them, and a moment later their shoulder was clutched by claws and they were pulled back. Quinn tried to struggle, to bite, to claw, to do something. But they were too busy trying to regain control of their body.

Quinn managed to hold themself up with their forearm, their head rose to see Maven floating now, like from when she was at the finals of the potion competition. They winced, that can’t be good.

“Now, Cinder. Quinn, my precious student. Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to make a sleeping poison out of pure taste alone? I mean, come on, I’m not the amateur here.”

The scent of the poison was overwhelming now, and the stones around them swirled into a swath of gray. Quinn groaned and reached to grab their temple, but only succeeded in losing their stance and falling onto the floor. From their angle, the potions were still the brightest thing in the room. All of those beautiful colors that they painstakingly used all of their confusing curse to create, but all they could focus on was that empty spot. The final potion.

As Quinn’s head became heavier, they noticed something else. The Beast’s Love potion was a deep maroon. They blinked, it was now vibrant pink. Like Slylvia’s hair. Their mind wandered to how Sylvia clenched onto them in her sleep.

Quinn was sleepy now. They missed her.

—

It was getting boring around here. Quinn didn’t come back yet, and Boxer was getting real antsy real fast.

There weren’t even any rats or squirrels to chase down; everything that was once living here was long gone. Except the lizard lady, of course, but Quinn already said he couldn’t eat her. That’s fine, she smelled bad anyway.

Boxer heard footsteps and quickly he morphed into his regular chest form. The tiny eyes that poked out of the wooden groves saw the lizard lady and perfume boy walk through the halls. Quinn was hanging limply over the boy’s shoulder, they were still wearing that weird costume.

But, more importantly, Quinn wasn’t moving. Were they hurt? Were they sick? Why were they being carried like that?

Once the trio were out of view, Boxer floated out of the darkness to investigate for himself. He could eat the boy holding Quinn, but perfume generally tasted awful. The mimic got impatient with the wooden beams and simply used his teeth to tear himself through. It made noise, and the lizard lady exclaimed. Boxer floated up to the trapdoor and saw a pretty hole.

Were there squirrels there? Boxer was so hungry.

Without thought, the animal rushed to the vortex and found himself in a strange room. It was dusty, and nothing smelled like any squirrels. Dammit.

But they did find an object with Quinn’s scent; it was a book. Boxer yelling coming from the hole, which caused him to go into fight or flight mode. The bookshelf was knocked over by the box, and many books fell to the ground, including the Quinn one. Before it could hit the floor, Boxer captured it with his mouth and quickly went to the other familiar scent.

It was the broom! His home! Boxer quickly went to the broom, and tried to copy what their owner usually did whenever they were flying. From his usual spot underneath the broom, he rocked back and forth and side to side to slowly guide the broom away from the window. He was about ten feet away when the mimic saw the gecko queen poke out from the tower. She didn’t look happy.

“SENTINELS, STOP THAT CURSED ANIMAL!”

She didn’t sound happy, either.

Boxer frantically rocked his body to make the broom move faster, afraid of the threat the stranger shouted. He had to find someplace safe; he only knew of one place, one person. Sylvia; second parent.

The mimic sniffed; her scent was distant, but the potions inside of his body would help with finding her.

The broom flew far away from the abandoned castle, and as Boxer saw the supposed sentinel's ghostly forms try and fail to catch up to the vehicle, he suddenly grew fearful.

Was Quinn okay? If they were sick, could Sylvia help with her potions? Why didn’t that boy take them back home?

Those questions didn’t matter right now. Frumpy lady would help, Boxer’s sure of it!

—

Quinn was right, the Dragon’s Oasis sucks.

Even during the dead of night, this place was as hot as ever. Sylvia could barely breathe in her corset and the gloves made her hands uncomfortably clammy. But Quinn was here; they had to be…

A sound of rustling wind was heard from her left, and she desperately hoped it wasn’t a dragon taking a midnight stroll. But, it was the opposite. It was reassuring. Quinn’s broom!

“Quinn! You’re okay!”

But then she saw the broom get closer and her body froze up. The broom was empty. There was only Boxer there.

At the sight of Sylvia, the mimic opened his maw and floated over to her. On the inside was a book, ‘Fairytales of Grimm’. But Quinn wasn’t here.

“Boxer, where’s Quinn?”

Boxer didn’t give a solid answer; he just frowned and used his tongue to put the book in Sylvia’s hands. “Boxer. Where’s Quinn?”

The mimic whimpered. Sylvia asked again, clenching the ancient tome with her fists. She felt something slip out of the pages and fall to her feet.

Sylvia leaned down to grasp at the paper, or photo. There were two people she definitely didn’t recognize. Partially.

The masculine person had eyes and a smile that was similar to the person she was currently having a heart attack over.

“Boxer…W-What is this-“

A group was heard approaching the crater Sylvia was nearby. Boxer knocked himself into Sylvia’s body, causing her to yelp and dropped both the book and the photo back into his mouth. She was about to question the animal on why, she suddenly saw the group come closer.

Robin was right in the middle. He was on a, frankly, way too glamorous broom. It held all of the guards beside- wait, guards?!

The fraud pointed right at Sylvia, “That’s her!”

Sylvia shot up from the ground and put her arms to her sides. She expected to see maven again, but not in the middle of a smothering arena. Not when Quinn was gone.

Many choice words coursed through Sylvia’s head, but she thought she would censor herself in front of the clueless guards. She also remembered that any information she would say could probably be used against her, especially by corrupt officials…or by potion makers possessed by sociopathic serpentine.

The guards were right up to Sylvia, and Robin stepped off his steed, his robes billowing in the night. The moon was crescented, and his head fit perfectly in the shaded darkness. 

“Sylvia,” Robin frowned initially, but she could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a grin form on his lips. “…Quinn is wanted for the attempted robbery of the Mavenbloom. We have evidence to believe that you are their accomplice, and thus we have decided to put you under house arrest.”

The hot surroundings were suddenly outmatched by the chill that went down her spine.

Chapter Text

The escort back to the shop was horrifying, and, frankly, a bit dramatic. Robin had Sylvia be escorted via six guards who covered her field of vision completely. Even though she couldn’t see much from all of the armor, she could still somehow feel all of the villagers surrounding her. Some even whispered to each other or gasped at the sight of the beloved potion seller being put in the slammer. Or, rather, her home.

When she finally got home, Sylvia and Boxer were unceremoniously thrown right into the building. Before she could even attempt to get up, the doors locked behind her. She got up and saw Robin cross his arms, with that damn reptile looking completely aloof. False imprisonment? What false imprisonment?

“Now, Sylvia, where is your uncle?”

The niece looked around her surroundings. Where was he?

Robin rested his hands on top of the head of his cane, “Oswald is associated with you, therefore he is also a part of this investigation.”

“So, you’re just going to arrest all of my friends? That seems like a massive waste in resources for something you have absolutely no proof of,” she put her hands on her hips, trying really hard not to growl.

“On the contrary, humble potion maker,” the wizard pulled out a couple of photos. They were kinda blurry, but that silhouette of Quinn’s hat was unmistakable. It showcased them trying to access the glass-encased Mavenbloom. Of course, Sylvia could see plenty of problems with these images, such as those shadows of Quinn clearly being edited in, as well as the fact that the place the Mavenbloom was kept didn’t have any security cameras in the first place, which was why catching the burglar was difficult. Also, as interesting of an ingredient as the Mavenbloom was, Quinn was way too lazy to organize a whole heist plot.

“Also, a little word of advice, from one entrepreneur to another. Once you get nearly as much coin as me, a couple of ‘investments’ will help tremendously with investigations such as these.”

Oh. Of course. Now was the time Sylvia could growl. “You know you won’t get away with this!”

“Oh, I will. You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

Sylvia could’ve sworn she heard the characteristic hiss from Maven’s venomous voice. Robin fixed his cravat and then turned to exit the shop, “By the way, I’m certain that you won’t be in too much trouble. The coin you have is substantial enough to hire a decent attorney. You could get, what’s her name, Helena?”

“Your point?”

“…Quinn lives a humble life, to put it lightly. Unless they get, oh, let’s say…five million gold to trick the courts into freedom, if they’re lucky…you might not see them again,” the blonde opened the door and looked back one last time, two pairs of vibrant eyes boring lasers into her. “I’m sorry for your loss in advance.”

That tore it; Sylvia let out a cry as she banged her hand against the now closed front door. Her fist burned, and she felt the force of impact take away some air in her lungs. She saw the guards stare at her like she was insane, like her partner wasn’t currently missing and accused of a crime they didn’t commit. She sled down to the floor, but Boxer used himself as support so that she didn’t faceplant on the wooden floor.

She wanted to cry, so badly. But crying would be a waste of time; she had to come up with a plan. And fast. Where was Oswald, anyway?

“Psst…Sylvia! Over here!”

Oh; there he was. Sylvia inclined her head and turned to the source of her uncle’s voice. He was poking his hazel eyes out from the trap door, making sure it was right below the sight of the windows, where the guards were standing. Boxer scurried over to the opening, taking Sylvia along with him. She quickly went to the crevice where her uncle hid, “How did you-?”

“I heard the guards were looking for you while on my deliveries and knew something was suspect. I also heard some of the villagers saying something about Quinn always seeming suspicious to them, how they looked like a criminal, and all that junk,” Oswald huffed. “I suspect you didn’t find them?”

“No…They’re in more danger than I thought. Do you have any ideas on-“

“Follow me,” Oswald lifted up the trapdoor just slightly to allow Boxer to squeeze his way through, swinging his little leather tail as he went down to the basement. Sylvia followed suit, and looked over to make sure the guards didn’t spot them. Luckily, Vendi was busy trying to ‘play’ with them, and they were too busy trying to keep her calm. She knew just when to step in and mess with problematic customers.

With the distraction ready, Sylvia slipped through to her bedroom.

Oswald had his phone in front of him, using the flashlight feature to cascade a white light in the already lit up room. “What’s the flashlight for?” Sylvia asked, holding onto Boxer again.

“While searching through the emptied caverns, Roxanne found that the tunnels led to a cave in the nearby forest. We need to escape through there and try to find the rest of the party.”

“Do they all know about the accusations?”

“Of course they do, I texted them as soon as I heard,” Oswald explained as he showed her his text messages. It was kind of hard to read because Oswald was the type of person to text one thought at a time, making her scroll longer than necessary to read it all. The heroes replied with them also getting the news and promising to meet up with them at the cavern. “I wonder how they’re doing.”

“How are you doing? Your partner is being accused of a robbery they didn’t do, and they’re fate is still left unknown,” Oswald questioned as he began leading the way through the cavern.

“We’re gonna come up with a plan to help them. That’s what heroes do,” Sylvia plainly replied, giving some absentminded pets to Boxer.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No duh, I’m worried.”

“You seem rather…emotionally dead.”

“If I feel any emotions, I won’t be able to get the job done. If I don’t get the job done, the situation will get worse.”

“Now, that’s not tru-“

From behind the two, the creak of the trapdoor echoed through the cavern. The family immediately quickened their pace, scrambling onto the pitch black obsidian. They didn’t know whether or not the guards realized that they went down the tunnel, but they didn’t dare look back. The minutes they spent running away from the potential danger finally ended when moonlight came from a small crevice.

Immediately, Oswald moved out of the way, haggard breathing eventually causing him to slide to the ground. “G-Go on…I’ll catch up later.”

“B-But Oswald, what if the guards catch you?”

“They won’t. I think Boxer here will make sure of that,” Oswald turned his head to Boxer, who immediately settled down next to her uncle as soon as he realized that the tiny exit couldn’t possibly fit him. The mimic went underneath Oswald’s arm, and the man chuckled, “You…you won’t eat me, won’t you?”

Boxer didn’t answer; Oswald never expected him to. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure Saffron’s tools will help widen the gap, just go meet with her.”

“Are you sure…?” Sylvia asked, now clenching one of her fists. Oswald nodded, giving her one final squeeze on the shoulder. “I am sure, my niece. Go on.”

“…I’ll be back.”

“Of course you will. You’d never survive without me.”

“On second thought, I think your skeleton could make a good ambiance for this place,” Sylvia finally joked as she lifted herself up through the crevice, leaving Oswald and Boxer to begin their wait.

“…Do you have any snacks on you?

Boxer coughed out an endurance potion and a feyberry, and Oswald supposed those were the only edible things Boxer contained. It would have to make do.

—

The climb through the crevice and the journey to Saffron’s camp could’ve been better. There were cobwebs in her hair, and the climb and run toward the destination made her fatigued beyond all measure. But she couldn’t focus on that; not now.

Eventually, she saw a campfire, and Saffron immediately trotted over and handed her a cup filled with soup. “Drink. Where’s the crevice?”

Before she took a sip, Sylvia pointed from the way she came, “I think I took a left, I-“

“I’ll be right back. Sit down, eat up, and rest,” Saffron fastened the straps on her backpack and went the way Sylvia pointed.

The reluctant adventurer slowly marched over to the log seats and finally took a sip of the concoction. It had veggies and a warm broth, sort of like ramen, however there were also some floral notes that made the soup all the more refreshing. As she let the warm food wash over her, she noticed the company around the campfire. Mint was making sure the fire was still lit, Xid was feeding her mimics some bread, Corsac was keeping watch or just silently observing the surroundings, and Baptiste had all of Quinn’s notes in his hands. The guildmaster looked at Sylvia with a frown on his face, which was illuminated by the flame. 

“I looked it all over. It’s worse than I thought…”

“Yea…” Sylvia sighed, taking another sip, “I expected that.”

Sylvia explained what had happened to her with the entire party, and while she did so Mint frantically put more notes into her binder. When he was finally done explaining, Saffron returned, with a now dirty and web-haired Oswald behind her. They all took their places around the campfire. Despite just excavating a hole, Saffron had minimal dirt on her, and she began serving more soup for the party.

The night now cascaded the forest in complete blackness, only the lanterns and phones the heroes brought illuminated the campsite. Saffron took a melancholy swig of her pipe, “The heroes told me everything that happened, Sylvia. I had no idea you two were going through so much.”

“It’s fine. It’s supposed to be a secret, anyway. I didn’t want to burden you with all of it,” Sylvia confessed, looking at her with knowing eyes. The fawn gave a smile, “I appreciate your concern, Sylvia. But, we’re friends. You can always confide in me with things that are on your mind.”

Knowing her past, Sylvia wanted Saffron to know the least about Maven’s return. All that she’s been through, all the friends she’s lost, the last thing Sylvia wanted was for her friend to find out that the one who murdered her found family was back and planning something even more sinister. But, at the news, Saffron was as calm as she always was, if not with a bit more of a sharp determination on her expression. “I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

“Are you really sure, Saffron?”

“Of course. Now finish your food, it’ll keep you warm and hydrated,” she replied, her voice as bright as ever.

Sylvia obeyed Saffron, eating the rest of the soup and placing the empty bowl to her feet. She just now noticed that her leg was bouncing; and now it bothered her that she couldn’t stop it.

Mint was the one who finally broke the silence. “So what’s the plan? This is my first rescue mission, so forgive me if I’m a bit clueless about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure this is everyone’s first rescue mission,” Xid noted, neatly placing the empty bowl and spoon on the ground before him. Saffron took the cutlery from the party as she replied, “Well…It wouldn’t be mine.”

At her words, everyone turned silent. Saffron puffed out some smoke and took a seat before explaining. “I rescued one or two party members back when I was still an adventurer. The first time, our fighter was captured by magic mutated spiders, but that was relatively easy to take care of. But the second was a hostage scenario…which is rather different. When dealing with a kidnapper, you have to pretend to meet their every demand or else the hostage’s life could be forfeit. But even then, you have to be really careful when strategizing. One small misstep, and everything could fall apart.

“However, Quinn’s situation is something I’ve never handled before. And I’m uncertain if I would be able to help that much.”

“Why not?” Mint asked, looking concerned. Saffron retelling her harrowing history with Maven couldn’t have been great for her to hear. The druid crossed her arms, “Because in this scenario, the kidnapper isn’t really intending on giving her captive back.”

Sylvia slumped, and Oswald moved to sit beside her.

Saffron rolled back her shoulders, “But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It’s just trickier. Maven will be much more guarded, so we’ll be more strategic when it comes to infiltrating her castle. Some of my other party members had to go on rescue missions like this before I joined them; they said that it’s a lot harder than all those movies make it seem, yet a bit easier than the stories say.”

Mint once again took notes, to which Saffron noticed, “Heya Mint. You know much more about heroes than I do.”

This caused the novice to almost drop her binder in shock, “I-I do?! But you’re…How could I-“

“Admittedly, I didn’t want to get involved in the affairs of other heroes outside of the ones from my own circle. However, you’re the ultimate hero fan girl, as I’ve come to understand.”

Mint nodded enthusiastically, and Saffron chuckled. “Do you know any heroes that went on these types of rescue missions? Maybe those stories could help?”

“Oh! Of course! I know tons! This one time, Georgina the Great had to rescue her girlfriend from an evil witch, and-“

Sylvia tensed up again, and Mint paused. “…T-This one time, Bianca the Benevolent had to rescue a lord’s son from some old flame. And so she-“

The rest of the heroes let her tell the story, and Baptiste decided to silently take a seat next to Sylvia. “I need to ask something of you.”

“Yea, Baptiste?” Sylvia prompted, raising a brow. 

“I’ll be entirely honest with you. We are severely understaffed for this mission. Even though morale is higher than ever at the guild, I highly doubt most of the heroes would spring at the opportunity to face Maven. And, considering her casualties, I can’t blame them,” Baptiste frowned.

“However, your potions…they are unlike anything Rafta has ever seen before. And you beat Maven not once, but twice, in that category. I have absolutely no doubt you’d make excellent potions for us!”

“Of course I will,” Sylvia reassured. The rogue nodded and then fiddled his manicured fingers, “…The issue is, your potions don’t really work when it comes to offense. It can give us strength and health, which are extremely valuable. However, when it comes to actual damage, you don’t really have them in your stock…”

“…Not yet.”

The party silenced and turned to the potion maker, who now was standing up. “Back in college, I’ve heard of artificers who started to dip their toe into splash potions made for offense. Like bombs that can shoot fire, or gas that could poison or blind people. Basically my potions but…the opposite effect. I really wanted to try it out, but I need an ingredient that’s very rare.”

“Which ingredient?” Baptiste asked, eyes bright and mouth agape.

Oswald answered for her, “Gunpowder. The trouble is that it is mostly used for ships and is considered dangerous cargo by many countries. Hence why it’s scarce, especially for places like Rafta.”

“…But,” Sylvia raised her eyes to the sky and rested her hand under her chin. She had an idea, which led to another idea. They both were very flawed logistically. But it was worth a try. Sylvia could only imagine how excited Quinn will be when they learn their rescue involves creating the best arson tools known to mankind.

‘So crazy it just might work’ was practically Quinn’s lifetime motto.

“…I know a few people who can probably do me a solid.”

On Sylvia’s hip, a bottle of sand jingled.

Chapter Text

It was still freezing when Quinn woke up. 

Goosebumps peppered their skin as they slowly opened their eyes. It was hard to hold up their head, the circlet around their temple was suddenly a weight that prevented them from looking at anything beyond the floor. Speaking of which, Quinn discovered that they couldn’t move their arms either, because their wrists were chained up, it seemed. And not only that, they were splayed to the sides of the wall they were apparently chained to, which made their shoulders burn with exhaustion. Thankfully, they were still sitting on the floor, though their ankles were also chained, which seemed like overkill to them.

Quinn would try to rip themself out of the wall, but the effects of the tea were still permeating their body. Their head pounded, and the sweat permeated their neck. They felt gross, scared, confused, betrayed, and most of all, ashamed.

They never thought they’d be in this situation again.

“Good morning. I hope the effects of the poison weren't too strong on you,” Maven spoke out from the other side of the cell…or, were they still in the tower? This room was rather small now that Quinn had the strength to pick up their head more. The window that the chill came from was similar to the one in Maven’s study room, and there was a cauldron and a pedestal in the otherwise empty chamber. Robin was sleeping on the floor, discarded, and Maven was floating above the bubbling cauldron, the dark glow of the concoction inside illuminating her snout.

“In hindsight, I probably should’ve taken you that night at the gala. Framing you for the robbery of the Mavenbloom was easier than I thought. All I had to do was make a sob story from Robin’s point of view, about how you cursed him into a months-long sleep in revenge for not getting the ingredient. No proof needed. No wonder they need me,” Maven darkly chuckled, mimicking a hair flip with the black waves she no longer had.

Quinn frowned, “You…You framed me?!”

“Well, you’re banned from so many businesses that there’s only a few places in Rafta where you can stand. It’s not my fault that you’re such an easy target,” Maven explained as she threw a few ingredients in the concoction. Quinn tried to look over the cauldron to see what was inside, but their tiredness and restraints didn’t allow them to see.

“I assume you saw the empty spot in the potion case, yes?” Maven asked, to which Quinn responded with a death glare. It was all they could do.

“There is one other orchid. I’ve kept it for years and years, waiting for the opportunity to use it,” Maven held a stem in her hands, or what Quinn thought was only a stem. In the light of the moon, it cascaded on the ingredients and revealed what seemed to be petals, shining white and only noticeable from the right angle. It was made of glass.

“As you can imagine, it’s extremely fragile, so I wouldn’t have dared to keep it in the greenhouse. It was safe on my person all this time. And on Robin’s person, too, once it came to that.”

Quinn couldn’t stand her bragging, but they couldn’t do anything else, except trash talk as much as possible. “You talk too much, it’s making my head hurt.”

“I’ve kept his plan to myself for so long. I have to brag to someone ,” the witch reasoned, “It’s not like you have any choice in the matter, anyhow.”

“You have to chain up random people to get someone to talk to you? That’s quite sad, isn’t it?”

At that comment, Maven frowned, which caused Quinn to beam a bit with pride. But Maven didn’t falter in her speech, “I was without family a long time, Quinn. As I’m sure you have as well. You should be grateful.”

Quinn shivered. “…Y’know, surprisingly, I don’t feel quite welcome here.”

“You should be. You are a princen after all. This is your castle.”

They clenched their hands around the chains binding them, their head crestfallen. Maven noticed their change in mood, and floated around the cauldron to face them. “I know this must come as a surprise to you. It was for me too, at first. But I promise, once you become skilled enough, and once I am gone, your monarchy and legacy will last for centuries.”

“…You knew?”

Maven seemed almost offended, a slight hiss undertoned her response, “ Of course I knew! How could I not have noticed that a clairvoyant with my brother’s face was in Rafta?!”

Quinn felt even more sick; so they were related. The confirmation made their head spin. “…Malachi.”

The queen’s face grew nostalgic at the name, clutching the flower in her paws. “Yes, Malachi…My twin.”

“But…But I don’t understand…”

Quinn didn’t understand a lot of things. How the monocle came into their possession, what happened to him, why he wasn’t here. But they thought they would start with the most pressing question first, and thought back to the night with Saffron and her painting, “…He was a seer…For a guild. How did he…?”

“…He was ashamed of me. Of what I did. What I accomplished. He fled Rafta in pursuit of a better life; without me.”

Maven chose not to squeeze the stem any further, as to not damage it, and as soon as the vulnerability was showcased, it was quickly covered by the confident mask once more. “It was his loss, anyhow. He could’ve been Prince of Rafta if he had any semblance of a backbone-“

“ Don’t- “ Quinn interrupted. But they stopped themself, allowing their hair to cover their eyes. Should they defend Malachi? He was not here, he wasn’t the one who raised them like he should’ve been. Where was he?

Quinn didn’t want to consider that their father abandoned them and was having a grand old time by himself. It couldn’t be true. If it was, their father got to live Quinn’s dream of traveling the world, to unknown places. Their father got to be happy and free and safe, while Quinn didn’t. Wasn’t. He just erased his own child from his own story. 

If that was true, that would break them.

“Just because he’s my brother and your father doesn’t mean you have to defend him, you know. You’re your own person.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it right now!”

“Well, no duh. You’re the Princen of Rafta. That fact doesn’t change because your father didn’t bother to raise you-“

“ Shut up! ” Quinn cried, the chains rattling.

Maven obeyed, however she put her hand on her hip and seemed inpatient. She allowed Quinn to calm their breathing, to which they did after a minute or two. On the outside, they seemed alright, but Maven knew on the inside they probably had a lot of questions. Very few of them will be answered.

“…I’m sorry for what he did to you. And for that your adoptive parents did to you.”

Quinn said nothing.

The queen took this silence as an opportunity to prepare her new crystal ball, which immediately caught Quinn’s attention.

It was theirs. It glowed on Maven’s face as she placed it on the pedestal, which was misshapen for it. The imprisoned clairvoyant immediately grew still with fear. “What are you doing?”

Maven grew solemn, “My own crystal ball has been growing weaker and weaker over the years. While your presence helps with getting specks of magic here or there, I need a new crystal in order to get the magic I need to practice. A jumping point, you could say.”

“I’m not letting you use my powers to fuel your ego trip!”

“It’s not like I feel good about torturing my only family…Sort of. Honestly, I think this would be very humbling for you.”

“Has anyone told you you’re insane?”

“Plenty of times. Honestly, it just shows I’m good at what I do,” Maven cackled as she grazed a hand over her brand new toy. The friction immediately caused Quinn to wince; it felt like a worm was crawling across their brain.

The sorceress raised her scaly brows to Quinn, “Oh, by the way, since you’re the magical princen in our bloodline, your voice is very powerful.”

“‘Our bloodline?’ W-What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think these magical powers are given to anyone with pretty hair and doe eyes, do you? Your powers are genetic, silly. We are descended from Cinderella herself , you see.” Maven proudly placed a hand on her collarbone.

Quinn rolled their eyes, “Great. Awesome. If we have magic sparkles running through our veins, why don’t you have these powers?”

“It is very rare. One in a billionth change, they say. I have always dreamed of being a princess since I was a young girl. I got unlucky…or so I thought.”

Quinn pulled against their chains nervously. They didn’t like the way they were being stared at. Like a doll. Maven smiled, “It is rare to find one of you, so I spent years scrounging up as much information as I could about these super people. Each one has a specific ability given to them that they can use via voice. For example, Sleeping Beauty could sleep for eons at a time without a care in the world, and could put others to sleep as well.”

Gods, Quinn needed a few of those powers right now.

“And The Little Mermaid could sing to others and get them to feel what she’s feeling. At least, from what I gather,” Maven flicked her tail as she spoke. “Cinderella could control plants, make even the most magical ones do extraordinary things. But, believe it or not…I have a theory about how your powers are different.”

Quinn shook their head, already feeling exhausted from this lecture.

“Your mother is unknown to me, but she might’ve been part of another royal bloodline herself. Your reaction to the Orchid of the Beast’s Love in particular told me that you’re extremely special. It’s almost like…it was a part of you.” Maven grew a devious smile.

Great. Not one, but two princesses were cursing Quinn from the grave. Maven still paid no mind to their distress, “Soon enough, my dear princen, you’ll rule all of Rafta. I will make you into greatness, and you will be the pariah of all magic. No one would dare strike you down, or hurt you, or treat you like an object.”

The lizard floated back over to Quinn one more time to tilt their head up. Their eyes were downcast as Maven continued speaking, “Isn’t that what you wanted? To be something more? ”

Memories flooded back. It was true; they did want to be something more, at one point. Something that their parents would notice once they were gone. Something, anything , that wasn’t themself. But…considering all the friend’s they’ve apparently made, all of their small accomplishments, all of the things they’ve experienced…they were pretty extraordinary on their own.

Except now, Quinn knew that they have pink unicorn glitter in their bloodstream that allowed them to sing pretty songs and potentially shape the world to their whim.

It was actually their worst nightmare.

So again, Quinn said nothing.

Maven let out a hum before finally letting them go. She yanked the monocle out from Quinn’s choker and floated her way to the crystal ball once more. One hand hovered over the surface, the other still grasped the glass flower. “Just a fair warning, my dear. I’m going to test a little theory. Of course, your singing power is well known to me. However…I can’t help but wonder what your screams will create.”

Before Quinn could even process what she said, Maven placed a glowing palm on their crystal. The queen got what she was asking for.

—

It was almost three in the morning now. Sylvia didn’t realize that she could even be awake this long when in panic mode. She just thought she always was, but apparently the type of anxiety she got from running the shop was just a test trial.

Saffron’s soup helped matters a lot, so she didn’t feel like complete garbage. And she had the other party members, including Oswald and Boxer, to keep her from going completely insane. The trip from the forest to the beach became much harder once every guard in the city was searching for the apparent ‘instrument’ in the false robbery.

Luckily, the darkness and Corsac’s amazing guidance, they managed to reach their destination; the docks. And, even more luckily, Sylvia knew that her accomplices wouldn’t be the ones to sell her out.

Salt and Pepper were on the deck, awake somehow. Sylvia figured she and the others would have to sneak inside their ship, to which they probably would’ve appreciated. Probably.

Not only were the two feline knardoels on the deck, awake as can be, but there seemed to be a blacksmith area. Of course, this would be a recipe for disaster for a normal pirate crew. But this wasn’t a normal crew, and this wasn’t a normal blacksmith, it seemed. The party could immediately tell immediately by the boisterous voice cascading his passions from the heights.

“And for you, Salt, a rapier that shines so bright on this moonlight. The handle is made out of the finest iron, with leather so soft that it will feel like harnessing a cloud in your very hands! And your strikes will be as swift as the fastest dolphin!”

The customer in question didn’t really pay attention to the fancy words Muktuk always liked to use, but her eyes were so dilated that it would make even the coldest of hearts melt. Pepper was right behind his right hand woman, of course, but his eye couldn’t help but catch the familiar head of red hair, as well as other familiar faces. And he knew as soon as he noticed their friends, Muktuk would too. Lo and behold, the walrus smiled as much as he could underneath his curtain of facial hair.

Right before Muktuk could greet her, Salt’s white fur shot up from her skin and she immediately placed a paw over his maw. Salt then looked down at the visitors and quickly motioned to the rope ladder on the side of the ship.

Once by one, the adventurers swiftly made their way up to the deck, with the mimics floating up to the top and helping their companions whenever necessary. The adventurers were agile enough to lift themselves up to the top, specifically Baptiste who couldn’t help but flaunt his roguelike talents, while Sylvia wasn’t nearly as athletic. Luckily, her mimic buddy helped out, with Sylvia leaning on Boxer as he lifted her up to the deck. 

With everyone quickly gathering next to the smithy, Salt and Pepper sized Sylvia up. The white kitty crossed her arms, “‘Hoy there, blood brother. Already causin’ trouble, aren’t ye?”

“I know. Must be some kind of world record. Look, guys, I need your help.”

Sylvia explained the situation to the duo, or trio since Muktuk was busy reinforcing the professionals’ weapons and tools. The friendly walrus grew a sour face.

“Oy…” Muktuk grimaced, “…That is a nightmarish predicament indeed. That witch queen will get her dues soon enough.” One more fiery tap of his hammer and Corsac’s reinforced bow was complete, with the customer testing the grip and smirking in satisfaction. “Quite impressive handiwork. But, you are an artist, correct? Are you really willing to use your talents for what could possibly lead to a violent battle?”

“Nonsense, ranger! For Sylvia, and for all of the Heroes’ Guild, I will proudly use my passions to create fine works of weaponry. For these weapons will be used to take down evil, instead of reinforcing it.” Muktuk took a slight glance to the distance, which Sylvia followed.

Maven’s statue. The reminder of all that she did, all the people that she killed and hurt along the way to queendom. Sylvia rolled her shoulders back. “So, Salt and Pepper, do we have a deal?”

The felines eyed each other for a moment, though it was very clear that they were going to agree anyway. Salt spoke up, “Deal. You will use our gunpowder to make your special weaponry, and take you around Rafta to get a shortcut to this castle. However…”

Sylvia bit her lip, “However…?”

“…Quinn has been a menace to our ship for many a year, Sylvia. And now that they are this magical being, as you say…we want to reap some of the benefits,” Salt meowed at her proposition.

The blood brother crossed her arms, “What, like money? You really think Quinn would be the type of person to give away their fortune? If they even have one?”

“Money? No no, yer coin will help us plenty. What we mean is…our own plants haven’t been as fruitful these past months. If they can help, you got yerself a deal.”

“I mean, I don’t see why not. What plants are you growing?”

Pepper shyly rubbed his huge paws, “…Nepeta Cataria.”

“…Catnip. Why am I not surprised?” Sylvia couldn’t help but grin.

“Avast ye! Hang anchor!” Salt called to the sleeping cat coven in the higher deck, and they all immediately went to the wheel to lift the anchor from the water. The other party members began helping the crew in various ways, with Corsac volunteering to help navigate the stars, Mint and Baptiste preparing the cannons and other tools, and Xid sitting on the deck, patiently waiting for them to get a move on so she could belt the most rocking sea shanties possible. Before the captains could steer the wheel out from the dock, another person climbed up from the side.

Saffron appeared, holding two very large bags and holding her wand in her palm. Sylvia walked up to her with a cautious eye, “Saffron…you’re coming with us…?”

“That I am,” Saffron smiled, sipping her pipe.

“B-But…But it’s Maven. Aren’t you…?”

“…I think I’ve done my fair share of running away, Sylvia. Even if I am a bit rusty on my more advanced spells, I promise to do whatever I can. It’s the least I can do.”

“N-No. No it’s really not the least-“

“Sylvia,” Saffron placed a palm on her bare shoulder, the one with her new arm brace. “I understand your concern. And I appreciate it, greatly. But…It wouldn’t feel right for me to not fight, this time.”

“…Thank you,” Sylvia said, placing her hand on Saffron’s extended arm. The satyr gave a knowing smile, “You’re very welcome, my friend.”

With that, the ship finally moved, causing Sylvia to almost fall on her face. Saffron smelled in the sea breeze and moved to look over at the water. She looked content.

The wind blew in Sylvia’s hair as she looked back on Rafta, her potion shop, her home, was far in the distance now. From above her, the imposing stone of Maven’s statue cast a shadow on her form. Even if the visage had no eyes, Sylvia couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched.

Sylvia took a deep breath. In…and out…

The heroine looked up at the statue and gave her most confident grin. If Maven was watching, Sylvia would make sure to give her a good show.

Chapter Text

So Sylvia was going to chase after her beloved. How painfully predictable of her.

Maven scoffed before finally retreating from the vision; it felt so good to have strong magic again. She looked at the orchid again. It didn’t bloom; so Quinn did have to sing. Noted. 

From the corner of her eye, Quinn was panting ragged breaths. Even with all those jewels and fabrics, one made for a royal, they looked like a peasant. Maven couldn’t help but feel bad, but in due time Quinn will learn. They won’t have to be in those chains anymore once they comply. And they will comply.

“…Quinn…?”

Maven’s heart stopped. Robin was now awake, and it seemed that he recognized Quinn’s visage. The princen weakly picked their head up at his voice, and Robin immediately grew concerned. He was still drowsy, but still able to see directly in front of him. “Quinn…That’s your name, yea? Y-You’re hurt, how can I…?”

For a brief moment, Quinn got to see the boy again. The one who was held prisoner. For twenty years, he was a prisoner. As soon as they met eyes, Maven zipped to his shoulder and clenched into Robin’s consciousness, making him sleep again.

Just at the moment the real Robin escaped, he was brought back to his cell again. The sight only brought Quinn more despair.

Maven gave a low growl at what could’ve been a massive disaster. “…Robin is getting stronger these days. He even remembers names now…I’ll have to deal with it later.”

The lizard decided Robin’s coat pocket is as good a place as any to put the monocle inside, and as it slipped in, Quinn’s tired visage became sadder. Maven sighed, “…This monocle will be yours again. One day. Just…not right now, okay?”

“Why…?” Quinn coughed, clenching onto their chains. “…Why are you taking everything from me…? How could you…”

“This monocle was meant to be mine in the first place. Not Malachi’s, and certainly not yours. Not yet.”

“Then when, you psycho wench?!”

Just then, Quinn felt themself change. The garments that they wore were there one moment, and in a flash, gone the next. Quinn was back in their sweater, their slacks, and their hat. Maven made Robin stand up, to tower over her brother’s child. “…When you are strong enough to break out of those chains and become your pretty self again.”

Oh…so that’s how it was gonna be. At that answer, Quinn looked up at their aunt, their only semblance of family, and laughed. Cackled, even.

The entire thing was rigged from the start. Considering how badly that last vision hurt, the way Maven ripped their power from their mind; if she expected to do this on a regular basis , then Quinn would never get out of these chains. Not until they submitted to be her doll, to play dress up with, to play make believe with.

Maven’s only family left was only another Robin to her. How sad.

Quinn was still wheezing out laughs as Maven left the prison.

—

The voyage lasted until sunrise. While they were sailing, Xid did as many ballads as she could to lift the party’s spirits. She was a damn good cheerleader, even for Sylvia. Saffron’s words of encouragement and homemade snacks also helped a lot, as well as Mint’s hyperfixations on what the battle could potentially look like, with game plans and everything.

Even though Corsac was busy navigating in the dark, he still took some time to share his battle strategies with Sylvia, which he learned from sneaking around dragon horde’s in the past. If anyone knew how to fight an evil witch who killed tens of people and not be tempted to kill her, it would be Corsac.

Baptiste shared his own insight with Sylvia, that being how to make great quips at the enemy. But, due to her now lustrous experience with chatting up and trash talking the most monstrous of both customers and opponents, she was pretty confident that she could taunt the hell out of Maven. It did help to get a refresher, though, especially from someone with a much more elegant language than Sylvia’s.

Oswald was also there, mostly to help brew both the regular health and mana potions as well as the splash potions for the mission. Once they could see the wasteland on the horizon, Sylvia went to go check on him. “Oswald? You doing okay?”

Her uncle wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood up from the cauldron that Muktuk happily let him borrow. “Just fine. Gunpowder apparently makes the potion itself very hot. And carbonated, somehow.” Oswald used the last glass bottle to scoop the rest of the concoction. “And with that, we should have everything that we need.”

Sylvia gave a glance to the bag of potions, now filled to the brim with all types of both helpful and dangerous elixirs. She of course helped Oswald whenever she could, but he insisted on making the last few so his niece could take a break. Sylvia let out a chuckle, “It’s funny. I never knew I’d have to make potions I’d use myself.”

“Me neither,” Oswald grinned, “It’s our craft to bear, I suppose. Quite literally.”

“Are you going to join us…?” Sylvia asked.

With that, Oswald audibly cringed, “No, my niece. I want to keep my arms this time around, thank you.”

“Understandable,” Sylvia grabbed the satchel with the potions and wrapped it over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming, anyway.”

“I didn’t feel like getting arrested. But even if I didn’t have a bounty on my head, there was absolutely no way I was going to miss my niece’s first expedition.”

“It’s quite a hefty first adventure.”

“We all start somewhere,” Oswald stomped out the fire underneath the cauldron. It was certainly not the same as having Combustopher’s goofy smile encouraging them.

“Avast ye! Evil Castle ahead!” Salt called out while she looked through her spyglass. Pepper steered the ship to the left, which allowed Sylvia to see the distance. It was certainly the wastelands, and there is a small obsidian blip in the distance, high and imposing, with tons of points.

Quinn was being held there.

The ship anchored as close to the land as they could. It wasn’t so much a beach and a death trap, and the captains had to really be careful not to damage the boat. Corsac looked at their surroundings with a scowl, “We’re going to have to fly the rest of the way. If the ship goes any further, it’s guaranteed it’ll get pierced by the stalagmites.”

Sylvia frowned as the ship nearly threw her off balance, “My broom got confiscated. How can I-“

A whistle broke the silence. It came from Boxer, surprisingly, and after a few moments of being perplexed by the mimic’s ability to…mimic human whistles that well, something zipped up to him. It was Quinn’s broom, now slightly singed at bristles due to staying in the Dragon’s Oasis all night. Sylvia was suddenly overwhelmed with grief, but she quickly held it down.

Boxer settled himself underneath the mobile shop as Sylvia settled onto it. “Three people can fit on this broom. That’s three trips among the six of us. I’ll be-“

“ Eight of us!” Salt called from the wheel and scampered down to the broom, with Pepper not far behind. Sylvia pursed her lips, “Are you sure? You need to steer the ship back to port.”

“Aye, but we can’t have ye fighting that dragon on yer own. Especially a monarch!”

Pepper smiled shyly, “We haven’t fought a monarch before,” he said, in the same manner as admitting not having ridden a broom.

Sylvia looked to the rest of the party, now ready and willing to fight next to her. Mint the tank, with her new shiny hammer settled on her back, aqua eyes ablaze and smile just as bright. Baptiste the rogue, hair coiffed, teeth gleaming, and daggers sharp, was as fabulous as ever. Saffron the druid looked determined, a bit emotional at the sight of the dangerous land ahead of her, where her friends fell, but she made sure she had serenity of the mind. Xid the bard had Fret and Roadie by her side, and while they were sad the shanties were over, all three of them looked as ready as ever to create brand new sound on the battlefield. Corsac the ranger had his refined bow at the ready, and had a neutral look about him, but Sylvia knew that he was really excited to have this adventure with everyone, even if he didn’t show it.

Oswald crossed his arms as he looked at Sylvia, with Muktuk standing beside him and giving a thumbs up to her. Oswald had a smile, and a twinkle in his eyes. He was proud of her.

Sylvia grinned, “…I think we’ll be good on our own.”

“Oh, I see,” Salt rolled her eye, “We aren’t enough for ye, ay?”

Pepper rubbed the back of his neck before tapping Salt on her shoulder, “Er, Salt. They’re rescuin’ Quinn, remember?”

Salt thought about it, tapping her finger underneath her chin, “…Actually, I think yer right, matey. We should head back to the port.”

“You backed off because of Quinn?” Sylvia asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No. We backed off because we might be tempted to claw ‘em.”

“Seems harsh.”

“Not me fault that they take joy in prankin’ us every Sunday.” Pepper looked down, ears drooping, “The red dot gets us every time…”

“Well, get back soon. The sun is rising fast and the guard back in town might be suspicious,” Sylvia said as Mint and Xid settled onto the broom.

“Sink me, I hate it when guards get suspicious.” With that, the kitties waved their goodbyes and headed to the wheel of the ship.

Sylvia held onto the head of the broom, looking back at her passengers, Muktuk called from his temporary forge. “Sylvia! I have a gift for you!”

“Another one? It’s not my birthday anymore-“

The present was quickly tossed in Sylvia’s hands; it was a very beautiful giant stick. Mint’s eyes shone, “Oh! It’s a staff!” Sylvia’s eyes widened. A staff, that’s what these are called. “Thank you, but-“

“I know that you haven’t had the time to train yourself in the art of combat, you had to master the art of potion making, which you have done tenfold! The bo is a weapon that is mainly used to block attacks and light damage, however it is a perfect beginners weapon, especially for one whose arms are as dense as yours.” Muktuk grinned and flexed his arms in alliance.

Sylvia glanced down at her own arms, which were now pretty athletic, especially since compared to when she first came to Rafta; Muktuk did have a point there. She swelled with pride. “Thank you, Muktuk. I’ll try to use it well.”

“I know you will, my friend,” the blacksmith smiled before allowing Oswald to approach her. “You have your water, right? And snacks?”

“Yes and yes. Saffron has all of the supplements we need.”

“You have all of the potions we made? You gave the other members their potions, yes?”

“Mhm. I did.”

“And you-“

“I did everything I could do, uncle. And you did too,” Sylvia planted a hand on his broad shoulder; she gave it a gentle squeeze. “I will be fine. And when I return I will have Quinn with me. I promise.”

“…You better keep your promise,” Oswald gently tapped her extended hand before backing away. As he looked down at the floor, Xid spoke up, “You know she’ll be back, right? She has to make, like, three trips.”

“So I can check if she brought all of her stuff three times over-?”

Sylvia lifted herself and her allies up to the sky and quickly made her way to the land ahead of her, “Later Oswald!”

Lo and behold, Oswald made triple sure that she got everything, and his apprentice always had to reassure him that she did. By the time the sun rose, Sylvia the artificer waved goodbye to her uncle for the last time that day.

—

The next thing they knew, the sun was shining down on their cell. It didn’t make the room any warmer, just gave a spotlight to how helpless Quinn was. The only company they had was the worst case scenario going through their head.

They tried not to focus on what could potentially happen when Sylvia tried to save them. Quinn saw her, when Maven forced them to have a vision about her. It hurt, but they could see she had all of the adventurers with her. And Boxer was alright; that was good news, at least.

Quin was hungry; they were almost tempted to try to take a bite out of their chains. It would probably give them lead poisoning, though, which would only make things worse. Work smarter, not harder.

Before they could fully formulate some type of plan, their cell door burst open. Robin stomped into the room, but he was absolutely not awake. Maven didn’t even bother to mask him at this point, using him as only a vehicle. She had all three of the potions they made together in her hands, as well as a familiar looking rune on a piece of paper. It was a transmogrification rune.

Maven looked both furious and absolutely ecstatic, her sharp teeth growing into a Cheshire grin. Despite their best efforts, Quinn felt their blood run cold. Footsteps and voices could be heard from a very far distance, less than a mile away from the castle.

The witch queen cackled, almost scratching the glass beneath her. “They’re here~”

Chapter Text

The long walk to the stalagmites to the trees to the castle itself was not the most pleasant trip. Not only were there some monsters that needed to be defeated on the way, but the castle seemed to get more and more imposing the closer Sylvia got to it. From pictures and the distance from the ship, it looked like a normal castle. Granted, she’s never stepped inside a castle before. But at the halfway point, the castle was suddenly a lot bigger, the tower roofs a lot sharper. Alright…nothing too bad, still. About what Sylvia expected.

But then they got to the fields that surrounded the palace, and Sylvia finally understood what all the fear was about. She never bought she could ever encounter a building this large, this imposing, this important, in her entire life. It was so tall it practically reached the sky, making the early afternoon night all over again. The darkness coming from the impending storm clouds didn’t help matters either. Those weather witches really need to get back from their vacation already.

“Sylvia, are you alright?”

The rookie snapped out from her panic by Baptiste’s voice. He and Corsac were the only ones beside her at the moment, Saffron, Xid, and Mint moved to flank the other side of the castle. At least they had some little sense of strategy. “Y-yea, I’m fine Baptiste. Just…weighing my options here,” Sylvia replied as she looked up at the imposing arena.

Baptiste gave a sympathetic eye to his companion, “I know this is a lot to handle. Just believe in yourself and I’m sure everything will turn out.”

“You say that, but simply believing in myself won’t be a good weapon here. I mean, lives are on the line here-“

“Sylvia,” the rogue spoke up, with a serious tone. That immediately caught her attention.

“I know from the one, apparently two, times I have seen you fight for your life. You have the heart of a hero, that I know for certain. Quinn knows for certain too. Everyone in Rafta does. As long as we stick to the plan as much as we can, we will win this.”

“B-But I’m just a-“

“Stop it,” he ordered, blocking Sylvia’s view of the obstacle in front of her. “I will not let you fight this beast until you convince yourself that you are capable and deserving of greatness.”

“Seriously?”

Corsac stood beside Baptiste, arms crossed. Sylvia groaned, “Listen, I’m just doing what I have to do. Quinn is my partner, I have to do something for them. This has nothing to do with me being a good fighter.”

“Who said you were a fighter?” Corsac questioned, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but most of us know you for your potion making. Like Muktuk said, your staff should mostly be used for defense.”

“Remember the plan, my dear friend,” Baptiste reassured, hands on his hips, “Our duty is to simply be a distraction for Maven until she sends her armies of the undead…or lizard union? Whatever plan she has up her sleeve. Use your great taunting skills to keep her morale down, until the others find Quinn and then we can all form one huge party to finally take her down!”

Sylvia was tempted to retort by saying that his plan was wishful thinking; a bit dramatic and movie-esque for what was actually about to go down. But, if she knew anything about Maven, then she knew that she adored bragging. It was practically how she got away with this decades-long facade in the first place.

“Trash talk…yea I can do that. Like bargaining, but opposite. Selling them the idea that they’re terrible.”

Corsac gave a nod, slightly averting his eyes, “Yes…sure. That’s a good mindset.”

Sylvia knew that most people wouldn’t really understand what she meant, but she’s had a knack for using her words. Besides, she didn’t have many chances to trash talk other people. Yea, she could do this. She could totally do this.

“Yea…distraction. I can do that,” Sylvia gave a small smile, clenching onto her new staff. Batiste gave a nod and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The castle was in her view again, the storm clouds grew darker.

Don’t look at the creepy ambiance. Don’t look at the creepy ambiance. Sylvia took calming breaths as they finally ventured their way into the castle.

—

Boxer was with strangers this time around. Of course, he knew them, but not as well as that Sylvia lady. These ones smelled like outside, tea, eyeliner, and other mimics. The blue haired woman had two mimics by her side, and both were much larger than Boxer was. But Boxer was just as important—no—much more important; because he knew how to smell. He knew how to smell good; he knew Quinn’s scent by heart.

The party decided that Boxer would stay with Xid, Mint, and Saffron because they were on the path of finding Quinn. Boxer could really help with locating them faster; at least, that’s what Saffron proposed. Mint doesn’t have much experience with mimics, and Xid’s own pets weren’t really the best sniffers in the world. They were more advanced in shapeshifting and hanging out with people; most mimics can’t handle being in a crowd, but Roadie and Fret can.

Xid just hoped that they could handle fighting a witch too.

Saffron looked up at the castle, a few droplets now coming down on her hat. She let out a puff of smoke, “…I never thought I’d ever be here.”

“Me neither,” Mint spoke up, “I mean, of course I’ve been here, this would’ve been my fourth time now, but I never dared go to the main rooms. That greenhouse and lab was enough to give me the creeps.”

Xid put a hand to her chin as she looked up, “I know…Maven’s taste in evil architecture is so dated, anyway. I mean, who really needs that many towers anymore?”

They found the hole next to the greenhouse, thanks to Mint’s recollection of her and Quinn’s expedition. At the sight, the hammer weirder couldn’t help but feel tense. A gentle hand landed on her arm, and she turned to find Saffron. Her eyes were a bit wet, “I know…What Maven did here was horrible. But, I think we’re ready to take her on. All of us.”

Saffron was the slightest bit taller than Mint, her antlers alone were three inches long, and just her head was about one or two inches taller than the hero’s. Thunder roared from the distance, but even the upcoming rainstorm couldn’t stop Saffron from shining like the sun.

Mint was nervous still, but for different reasons.

“Hey buds, let’s get going. Sylvia’s probably already inside,” Xid spoke out, a bit louder than normal, as if to snap Mint out of her stupor. Mint didn’t even remember what caused her to freeze. Totally didn’t remember. No recollection. Zip.

Once Mint shook her head and focused again, she went inside the castle and led the other two inside.

It was just as dilapidated as she remembered, but the rotten interior took on a whole new meaning now. Quinn’s well being was on the line, this time. Mint won’t let her nerves get to her this time, not when it jeopardizes her friend. Saffron will avenge her friends and finally make sure Maven is dethroned once and for all. And Xid will make sure they have an absolutely amazing soundtrack to fight this broad.

However, when they went further into the depths, they heard something unexpected. The party heard singing.

—

The inside was even more intimidating than the outside. Sylvia looked around the decrepit palace, seeing the specks of dust where Maven or Quinn walked through. Some of the rubble was moved away to make way for traveling through, leaving Sylvia to wonder which exact path they took. How long until Quinn realized that they were in danger. Did they even realize?

“Ah yes. Admire the sights. Quite lovely, isn’t it?~”

The potion maker stood up straight; here they go.

“Yea. Very nice. Fits the whole ‘desperate queen’ aesthetic pretty well,” Sylvia crossed her arms, staring up at Maven. The witch was on the balcony, on her hind legs, and holding three potions bottles in her arms. They were all emptied, and Maven licked her lips as if she just stopped drinking the final one.

Baptiste and Corsac flanked Sylvia’s sides so that Maven didn’t have any place to attack her from, allowing the entrepreneur to become more confident in her distraction. “Where’s Quinn?”

Maven scoffed, her scales glowing now, “You really think I’d tell you that?”

“No, but I’ll find them eventually, so I’m giving you a chance to get it over with.”

A laugh echoed through the halls, and Maven glowed brighter. The cackle suddenly cracked, and the villain grew a bit larger.

The trio took a step back at the sight. The laugh became melodic, almost hypnotizing, and suddenly tens and tens of spectrals poured out of the decrepit halls. They seemed to be dancing to her laughs, but Sylvia couldn’t find anything catchy or danceable about it. But they certainly obeyed Maven’s call. The sickly yellow light grew larger still, the balcony cracking beneath her. Eventually, the entire balcony crumbled down, and through the rubble and the dust, four taloned limbs clenched onto the debris. The cackle turned into a breath, spreading the dust away, and in its wake revealed a dragon. An honest to goodness dragon.

The elongated face that was Maven smirked down at the shocked adventurers, “Now…while I’d love to keep up this charade, Sylvia, Baptiste…Whoever you are,” she glowered at Corsac, “I’d much rather get this over with.”

As she stepped closer to them, one of her claws crunched against the empty bottle; it smelled of roses and dog fur.

Sylvia certainly didn’ expect this, but it was okay. Everything was totally normal and fine.

Corsac growled, “This transformation is an offense to all of dragon kind!”

“Oh, like I care about a dragon’s feelings! Dragons kill, dragons are feared!” Maven swiped a claw at the three, and they quickly dodged out of the way. The swipe was flowered by a snap of her jaws right at Sylvia. Their eyes locked, both filled with hatred. “I will be feared!! I will terrorize all of Rafta, nay, the world, until everything. Is. Mine!! ”

Sylvia surveyed the room. The ghostly soldiers were getting closer now. Baptiste and Corsac were fighting them off exceptionally well, but Sylvia was still backed into the wall. But still…she kept her resolve. She put her hand into her satchel and pulled out a fiery splash potion. Keep Your Guard Up; show some resistance, but also raise interest significantly.

“…Why fear dragons when my potions can do everything that you can?”

—

“What the hell is that?” Xid wondered.

At the melody, the mimics suddenly got antsy; shaking awhile before eventually rushing to the floor above them, only connected by a staircase that has definitely seen better days. 

“Roadie! Fret! Boxer!” Xid tried to call her companions, but it was futile. The trio quickly followed them, with Saffron tripping over one of the rotten wooden planks and quickly causing the staircase to crumble behind her. Mint grabbed her arm before she could fall, and they all decided that they should hurry up with their search, especially with the definite sounds of fighting in the background. 

The singing continued; crashing sounds came from the hall ahead of them. Mint went ahead of them with her hammer readied in case of hidden enemies. But the only thing that she encountered was a ladder, with wooden beams that have been crushed to oblivion…and wet? Xid stepped up beside Mint to examine the scene. “The mimics probably used their mouths to bite these away…not great for their diet but very helpful for us.”

One by one, they went up into the cellar, where they saw various knicknacks. While they looked important, they had to hurry up if they wanted to help Sylvia as quickly as they could. The fight sounded like it was getting pretty tense; unknown roars shook the entirety of the castle.

Beside them, a window was shattered open; barks came from up top, and a voice was exclaimed. Quinn.

—

Quinn couldn’t sing anymore. Their throat burned, their lungs felt like they were made of paper. They were so thirsty, so hungry, so tired. They heard the barks of mimics, of Boxer, and thought they could lure him in using his favorite song.

It didn’t seem to work. They were stuck.

But then, more yips. Closer this time.

Quinn shot their head up, “Boxer?!” Bangs came from the iron door beside them, three of them in rapid succession. Multiple mimics were at that door. “Boxer!” Quinn called again and leaned forward, although it was futile to try and reach him in this current state. “Boxer, who’s with you, boy?”

“We are, Quinner the Winner!”

The twit. They’d never thought they’d be so happy to hear her voice again. “I told you not to call me that-!!”

“Hammer time!!” The entire prison shook with the ringing of Mint’s hammer against the iron door. It got a dent in. A second pound, the door bent forward, as well as the rest of the room. Quinn felt themself shift, “Uhh, Mint! You might wanna take it easy-“

A third strike; the door was ripped off from its hinges. The room began to tilt; their ball rolled off the stand. “No, no no no!”

Quinn felt their bound feet slip and their entire body be held up by only their wrists’ bindings. Just as their crystal ball began to roll off along with the cauldron, a mimic scooped the thing up. It looked like a guitar case; Roadie then.

While they were relieved that their crystal was saved, the room was still collapsing, and they were still being elongated like a cat. “M-Mint!”

“Not to worry!” Saffron spoke, shocking Quinn with her presence. She was here? After all that she went through? Were they really that important to her?

Hooves slid against the stone floor as the fawn strategically grabbed onto one of Quinn’s chains, using some sort of ointment to melt away the metal. Before Quinn themself could slip, Saffron held onto their now freed wrists and quickly got rid of the other shackle. The duo were quickly lifted up by Roadie and taken to a surface. It was the basement, with all of Maven’s memories, except now it doesn’t have a ceiling. 

Rain poured down on all of them as their prison crumbled and fell onto the surface. Mint rubbed her neck, “Wow um…didn’t expect that to happen. My bad…”

Roadie opened up his gigantic mouth to allow Quinn to grab their crystal. As soon as their hands touched the familiar surface, relief coursed through their veins. Boxer enthusiastically gave his companion a few licks on the cheek, causing them to laugh. “Yea yea, good to see you too.”

Quinn leaned on their precious object and turned to the trio, “Where’s Sylvia?”

Xid answered, “Down there, trying her best to fight off the-“

Another roar, and something shot out from the ceiling below them. A wing. 

“…The dragon?!”

Oh good, Quinn thought, Maven evolved.

—

This certainly took a turn. Maven became twice her size in a matter of seconds, those potions she took must’ve been some kind slow going effect.

But the potions were slowing her down, the fire ones were spreading throughout the entire battlefield. It definitely slowed the amour down, and when Sylvia hit a bullseye a whole group of them melted on the spot. It was immensely satisfying, in a morbid sort of way.

Baptiste and Corsac were also doing exceptionally well, with the rogue even taking some time out of his dashing and slashing to cheer Sylvia on every once in a while.

Maven is a full on dragon now, wings and all, and she doesn’t really seem to care about the architecture her slaves painstakingly made for her. Sylvia was ready to throw even more potions at the beast.

“Sylvia!!”

That voice.

Sylvia looked to the source, Saffron, Xid, Mint…and Quinn.

They were all soaked, but still alive. And unharmed. Sylvia, through her undone hair and dirtied face, couldn’t help but give a laugh of relief at seeing them.

Maven scoffed at the scene before letting out a deafening screech.

Chapter Text

Maven’s screech was familiar to Quinn.

Not that they’ve ever heard a dragon scream before, but it had a similar undertone to it. It was the same as the Orchid of the Siren Maiden.

The voice felt angry. Quinn felt all of the pain they’ve gone through, the betrayals, the lies, the lonely hours staring out at the world they would never reach. How the world utterly failed them for no other reason than they got unlucky. Why them? Why them?! They clenched their soaked and ash covered sweater and felt sick. They got tricked again. How could they have been so stupid. What could they do now? They’re hopeless. The only thing they could do was scream.

And so they did. Through crazed eyes, Quinn let out a roar.

—

Sylvia covered her ears as soon as the roar shook the entire castle. It was so loud that some of the rubble came down upon the battlefield. She thought to throw an exhaustion splash potion at the dragon to make her stop, which it did, but then Sylvia saw that the damage was already done.

Quinn was blindly screaming, their mismatched eyes feral. Xid started playing a new song as loud as she could to undermine the screech Maven let out, but she backed up away from Quinn. And…Saffron?!

Saffron was also looking furious, at what, no one knew. But she did look up at the dragon through her craze. “You killed innocent people! You killed my friends! I’ll tear you apart!!”

Maven wasn’t phased by her threat in the slightest, in fact she looked proud of herself. Sylvia squinted; did she plan for this?

Before she could theorize any further, another threat came from her left, from Corsac. “You destroyed this beautiful island with your treachery! You displaced so many animals; displaced my people! I’ll never forgive you!!”

Again, Maven looked nonchalant.

Corsac shot an arrow at Maven’s form, aiming right for her eye. She dodged it with just a dip of her head. Immediately, Baptiste began holding his companion back, “What’s gotten into you? You never aimed to kill before!”

“I don’t care!”

Saffron was also being held back by Mint, and she replaced her pipe with a dagger, supposedly stolen from Mint’s belt.

This wasn’t right; something in that roar made Corsac and Saffron, the two calmest people she knows, to lose their minds to anger. Then another scream tore through the arena; Quinn.

“Why me?! Why?!” Boxer grew concerned and tried to calm them by nuzzling their arm, but he was left ignored. At that point, Sylvia remembered that she could move and rushed to her partner, “Xid! Keep playing your music! Try to block out her screams!”

Xid nodded and played her song louder. It was quite a fast paced tempo, complete with hardcore guitar riffs that was almost reminiscent of a dragon’s roar. Sylvia wasn’t sure if this helped with the party’s affliction or worsened it. But she doubted that a calming lullaby would block out a magically enhanced cry.

“Quinn! Quinn, I’m here!” Sylvia placed her hands on their shoulders, but they either didn’t notice or was too consumed by rage to care. “My family hates me! The world hates me! I hate myself!”

“What?! Quinn that’s not true-“ Sylvia palmed Quinn’s cheek, their face uncharacteristically clenched with fury. She’s seen them sad, careless, tired, and even happy at points, but never furious. “Quinn, listen to me, please!”

Finally, their eyes focused on Sylvia’s, though they were tearful. “Why do you even want to help me?! You risked your life for me, like an idiot! You’re an idiot!”

“I know, I know,” Sylvia didn’t actually believe she’s an idiot, at least not anymore, but she figured arguing with Quinn would only make things worse for ware. “You’re not worthless! I love you!”

Those words finally caused Quinn to shut up, at least momentarily. They finally released their tears. “Why…?”

“Why do I love you…?” Sylvia could think of infinite reasons, but time was of the essence, and she felt like Quinn wouldn’t fall for the typical descriptors of being kind and handsome. But…she knew what to do.

She took in a breath to speak, but another wail emerged.

Just like the precious one, except more people got afflicted. Baptiste gave up holding Corsac back and instead moved to slice her claws, but he was quickly stopped by the tail pinning him down. Mint let go and also readied her hammer to attack the dragon without thought, but the claws tripped the adventurer up and held her still, like a cigar in human fingers. Xid was still playing the song, except she now was playing so aggressively that Fret flew away from being so exhausted, leaving Xid weaponless.

Sylvia still wasn’t taken over by anger, but she watched in horror as her friends, while in precarious scenarios, still scratched and yelled like wild animals trying to free themselves from a cage. From her vision, she saw a glow. It came from her left arm.

The brace was glowing profusely; made to protect her against even the strongest spells. Her face illuminated with the glow, Sylvia reminded herself of her plan to snap Quinn out of their state. As Quinn struggled helplessly against Sylvia, cheeks still wet, she gently gazed back into their eyes. 

“You are the only person I know that can throw an eyeball across the entirety of Rafta and still hit your target in the head.” The unglamorous compliment caused Quinn to still, so Sylvia continued. “You are so good with animals that if anyone were to even look at you funny, you’d have at least ten deadly animals waiting to fight for you.”

Maven chuckled behind them, supposedly laughing at Sylvia’s attempts to calm Quinn down. But it was working, Sylvia knew it was. “You are so brave, so stupid, that you went into another realm just to get your mimic back. And, dammit, that is so attractive you have no idea.”

Quinn was staring at Sylvia now, slowly coming back to their senses. They saw her, covered in ash, hair undone from its ponytail, some fresh scratches marking her previously perfect skin. She’s come all this way for them…and the reason why is because they were enough for her. They were enough for their friends.

They were enough.

“…Sylvia.” Quinn spoke, eyes focusing back to the battlefield behind them. It was not looking good, the mimics were flying around Maven’s head trying to distract her, but the rest of the party was still cursed, like zombies ready to kill anyone who gets in their way. And Quinn now just realized that Maven became a full blown dragon, now standing at least three stories tall.

A creature…A creature to tame. A creature to calm. A creature to control.

That’s it!

“Sylvia, give me a health potion. Now!”

Sylvia reached into her pack for one but was distracted by another scream from Maven. The song was different this time, Quinn noticed; it was haunting and hypnotizing. Like a ghost possessing a body. Quinn held onto Sylvia’s braced arm and stared directly at her face to make sure they weren’t controlled again. The couple weren’t…but everyone else was.

“…Is this what I get for not asking nicely?” Quinn remarked, as the two of them held hands and backed away from the now possessed party members. They were like soldiers, marching to their enemy with their weapons raised and aimed to kill. Maven chuckled, “Since you refuse to accept my song, Sylvia, I’ll just have to make your friends kill you. I have other matters to attend to.”

Suddenly, a stomp shook the battleground, causing the two still sane ones to lose their footing. “Quinn!” Sylvia called, the cracks in the marble floor forming a small chasm between them. With their bodies separated, Maven took the opportunity to swipe with her claw, taking Quinn along with her. Their hands ripped apart, Sylvia reached out with her now empty palm, “Quinn!!”

Wincing at the pain of her grip, Quinn shook their head, the hat flying away and gliding down to the now far away ground below. “Save yourself!!”

“No!” Sylvia used her staff to defend herself against a stray dagger, from Baptiste. The blade marked into the wood with a deafening crack and Sylvia knew that this staff’s time was almost up. All she could do was defend herself until Quinn could come up with something. Speaking of which.

The potion maker slid her way across the field, clumsily tripping up as she got up from the floor, and she made sure to have a clear view of Quinn in Maven’s fist. She frantically threw a healing potion to them, the glass splashing against the scales, slightly blinding Quinn with red.

A sweet berry scent filled their scenes, and once the mixture went into their system, they felt more refreshed since when they first got captured. Or…when they first made this deal if they were being honest.

“Oh goodie, look Quinn! We’re getting to the part where they rip her to shreds!”

Maven clenched onto Quinn tighter, pinning one of their arms down to their side, the other clenching onto her thumb. Sylvia was swinging her staff against her closest friends, trying not to hurt them yet also making sure she didn’t get killed. They were surrounding her, she had her back against a wall, only shielded by the three mimics not wanting to bite their companions. “No!” Quinn yelped, fearful.

“What’s the matter, Cinder?” Maven sneered, bringing them closer to her magenta eye, “Can’t handle a little blood? I thought you were braver than that.”

Quinn was about to yell something incoherent and violent, but then remembered they just got their voice back via the potion. They can’t mess this up; not now. They had an actually good idea for once.

Maven held a talon to their neck, as if knowing what they were planning, or at least holding onto their prize in a very possessive manner. It didn’t matter; everybody dies sometime. Being sliced by an evil queen aunt who turned into a dragon and took over an island for twenty something years wasn’t the worst way to go out.

And so, with courage, passion, and love in all of their senses, Quinn sang.

—

Quinn was back in their bedroom again. Their parents didn’t like when they tried to sing; it was unattractive and raspy. The dinner party was supposedly ruined because they wanted to sing along to the pretty instruments.

And now they were punished, and they were staring out of the window again. The dictionary was now read so thoroughly that the spine’s glue couldn’t hold the pages any longer. If books supposedly had a million lives inside of them, then The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows was certainly on its last.

About time, Quinn didn’t find joy in that book anymore. Just sorrows. Some of the definitions hit too close to home.

So now their only entertainment for now was the window. It was raining earlier, still drizzling, but the sun was out now. A rainbow was in the far distance, almost unrecognizable due to its small size. As if their only means of paradise was far far away.

Quinn pouted their bottom lip, tears forming in their eyes. Fine, nature. They didn’t like rainbows anyway; they were tacky.

But it did remind them of something; a song.

Music was their only means of solace, they realized, other than the macabre. But sometimes, even the dark realities couldn’t satisfy them for long. It was too dark, no light to be found.

But music was light; the brightest light there was.

They had to whisper in case their parents were still in the bottom floor of the tower, but Quinn rested their head on their arms, looked through the barred window, and began to softly sing.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Way Up High

And The Dreams That You Dream Of

Once in a Lullaby

—

Quinn had to whisper now too, because there was literally a talon against their neck. Maven had to not notice that they were singing at first. The first verses were barely discernible, and for a moment they worried that it wouldn’t work. But eventually, Maven’s huge lizard eye blinked. The singer continued, louder this time.

The lyrics were horrifically idealistic and sugar-coated, but it brought them the slightest bit of comfort in their darkest days. That was enough then. It would be more than enough now.

“Ugh-! I hate that song!” Maven growled. Quinn’s heart dropped as they felt the talon get the slightest centimeter deeper into the back of their neck, but then Maven blinked again. Some of the possessed party members faltered, and for the first time in their life they saw the ever energetic Mint get drowsy. 

It was working! Sylvia didn’t have to fight as hard. Which was a good thing because her staff was now broken in twine by a swift punch from Xid. Quinn got a little louder, voice a bit more passionate. They haven’t felt this alive in a long time.

“Stop this!” Maven growled, trying to do a magical roar once again, right in Quinn’s face. But all that came out was a yawn.

Quinn smirked as they sang, a glow forming on their cheeks.

They thought of all of those animals at the shelter, their cute little fangs and scales, the ones who were just as lost as they were. Quinn brought them solace with their own voice, but didn’t actually realize they had powers to force them to rest. In hindsight, they always found it odd that owlbears would sleep with their voice, considering they never sleep outside of hibernation season.

This was their power. They controlled beasts with just their voice. Not just animals; plants too, probably every single thing that’s sentient.

This power could change the world, for better or for worse. Quinn had never felt more confident in their life.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Way Up High

And the Dream that You Dare To

Why, oh why can’t I?

Now it was time for the vocalization, the oos and aas, the highs and lows of the last few melodies. It was the cherry on top, the nail in the coffin. With those final notes, Maven finally laid her head down on the ground, fully ready to fall asleep.

The party and mimics were already asleep, but they had a feeling that the mimics were much easier to put to sleep than the others. Quinn could tell that they couldn’t control humans, at least not yet; they were just reacting to their controller, that being Maven.

It stirred in them great confidence that they could put dragons to sleep. Problem was, Quinn was pretty drowsy themself.

They felt Sylvia’s voice call out to them before finally closing their eyes.

—

“Quinn!” Sylvia rushed to Quinn’s location. The singer was now sleeping to their own lullaby; Sylvia’s brace protected her from their spell.

How powerful were they anyway?

With that question swiftly put in the back of their mind, she tried to pry the fingers off of them. “Where do you think you’re going, little girl?”

Maven growled, her voice afflicted with tiredness. She was right on the cusp of slumber. Sylvia stood tall, looking at the dragon queen straight in the eye. “I’m no little girl, and I’m getting Quinn back.”

“Do you know who they are? Where they come from? They are from me! We are blood! What makes you think you can take them away from me?”

Sylvia put a finger to her chin, “Well, they throw body parts at innocents on the regular, so I honestly should’ve expected this revelation sooner. Except they’re not even remotely as evil as you.”

“They throw body parts at people…?” Maven questioned, closing her eyes now, “Ugh…” With that, she finally stilled.

Sylvia pried the limp fingers from Quinn, who fell into her arms. They looked so peaceful; and they were so warm.

Sylvia almost let out a sob at the relief of feeling them again.

“H-Hello…? Miss…?”

That voice sounded both familiar and unfamiliar. Sylvia raised her head to a man cautiously walking down the last remaining flight of stairs. Robin.

“Uhh, hey?” Sylvia didn’t exactly know what to say to a boy in an adult man’s body. She had a feeling she’s felt with customers who were more backwards than Robin was, though.

“Is the battle over? Is Maven defeated?” Robin asked, innocently. Sylvia didn’t have the heart nor the knowledge on how to tell him that his last twenty years were stolen from him. “Yea. Yea she is defeated.” At the very least that part was true. Finally.

“Do you mind getting a hat for me? Huge, gray, has a disturbing eyeball?”

Robin moved his head like a chicken with its head cut off, but he eventually walked to the stray hat on the ground. Not a single spec of ash on it, remarkably.

Groans sounded behind Sylvia, and she turned to see all of her friends, her amazing, brave, perfect friends, waking up from a possession nap. From beside Sylvia, Quinn’s signature crystal ball was moved by a gust of wind, and eventually made it back to the sleeping clairvoyant’s feet. It glowed brighter.

“What in the world happened?!” Baptiste exclaimed, “How did you-?! I felt- I agh, dugh-“

Corsac patted Baptiste’s shoulder before he could start frantically speaking gibberish and looked at the sleeping beast. “She’s out cold. How did you manage that?”

“It’s a…very long story,” Sylvia replied, looking down at Quinn. Robin shyly handed the hat back onto their head.

From the outside, tons of brooms and horses were sounded. The guards came, most likely hearing the commotion. The rest of the party examined the scene, as if waking up to a completely different world.

Only Sylvia and Quinn knew for now; it was a different world. And yet everything is as it should be. 

Chapter Text

Quinn awoke in an unfamiliar place. They were in an actual bed, with actual windows, and actual decoration. Not even Sylvia’s place was this proper yet; where the hell were they?

Quinn slowly prompted themself up, the expensive sheets sliding down to their lap. As they rolled their neck, feeling satisfying cracks, there was a knock at the door. “Quinn…? Are you awake yet?”

Robin? Right…Maven was done for. Or, at least, last time they were awake she was done for. What has happened since then? How long were they asleep?

“Not awake yet…? Okay,” Robin sighed disappointedly and moved to leave, but Quinn quickly called out. “W-Wait, kid. I’m awake.”

Robin quickly opened the door, revealing that he was in simple clothing. It was almost alien seeing him without his hat or his cobalt robes; he was now in a simple button up and pants, there was also a paper bracelet on his wrist. “G-Good morning, Quinn…” He greeted, shyly fidgeting with his cuffs.

“Good morning…” Quinn replied, awkwardly, “How long have I been asleep?”

“A week. I was told to check on you every day.”

A week?! They’ve never slept that long! A whole day or two, maybe, but never ten days straight! “W-Where’s everyone? What happened to Maven?”

“Umm…” Robin twirled his hair, which was not perfectly gelled back anymore and fluffy and untamed. He actually looked like a human being instead of a poster.  “Helene also said that she wanted to explain that stuff to you.”

“Helene…? The lawyer?”

Robin nodded, “She told me everything. About Maven…about the years I’ve lost…” At Robin’s voice breaking, Quinn finally got off from their temporary bed, realizing that they have also been changed into a button up and slacks. “Look, I’m…I’m sorry about that. You lost your whole childhood to-“

Robin looked up and shook his head, smiling slightly, “It’s okay! Helene has been helping me a lot, so has Sylvia and Oswald. I don’t think I fully register it as a bad thing; not yet. It’s like I took a nap after a horrible nightmare and woke up to a new world, y’know?”

“That’s…very optimistic of you, kid,” Quinn remarked, eyes widening, “No existential crises or anything…?”

“Well, yea, of course. I miss my friends. I miss my roommates at the orphanage. But overall, I’m happy. I’m not treated like an errand boy anymore. It’s exciting, learning all these new things about Rafta; it has changed so much since then!”

Quinn was somewhat relieved that the boy didn’t seem to be too much affected by his trauma, but still…he acted and sounded like a boy, not like the thirties approaching body he held. “Is someone helping you, y’know, acclimate?”

“Helene, mostly. She’s my teacher! She says that soon enough, after I learned all the basics, I can get to college, or train under the Heroes’ Guild!” Robin’s blue eyes shone, with more life than ever before. “I’m not sure what I wanna do yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“That’s…that’s great, kid. I’m proud of you,” Quinn grinned, excited for what this bright light of a human being had in store. No longer eclipsed by darkness.

“Thanks. Oh, and umm…thanks for taking care of her. Maven, I mean.”

“No problem,” Quinn said, immediately. They’ll do it again in a heartbeat. Robin continued talking, “I know that she’s your aunt and all, but she’s a real evil person! Like, actually evil! I’m glad at least some people-“

“Robin?” A mature voice sounded out from the hall, and there was a sudden chill coming through.

Helene emerged into Quinn’s quarters, head straight, eyes icy, but she still had this gentleness to her. Even without a smile, she had the aura of a calming snowfall instead of a deadly blizzard. “I see Quinn has awoken. Hello, Quinn.”

“Heya,” Quinn gave a nod. Helene motioned for her mimic briefcase to open up, allowing the crystal ball to come out. The clairvoyant immediately grabbed hold of the object, grateful that it is finally without any other evil influence. They were the only evil influence allowed.

“I also have the cuttings of the flowers you have gathered with Maven, if you would like. Though, I suggest giving them to someone experienced with gardening to help them grow once more. I believe it would be very beneficial to have those flowers to research.”

Quinn couldn’t really disagree; these flowers made entire potions without any other ingredient necessary. Not only that, it made completely new and dangerous effects. But…if Helene has the cuttings, and presumably now has all information known about this entire adventure, does that mean…?

“…Miss Lawyer Lady…Do you know of me…?”

Helene gave an incline of her head, eyes boring into theirs, “Yes. I do. Though, fear not. I have told no one else.”

Quinn let out a breath they didn’t know they'd been holding. “That’s good. Another quick question, where am I?”

“You are in a hotel. The one closest to the colosseum. Stupendously overpriced, meaning that no one else is willing to have a room here. Therefore, no one can interfere in our private discussions,” Helene explained.

“‘Private discussions’? Like what?”

“Like explaining the law to you; about what to do with magical royals.”

Oh no. Oh no. “Wait, wait, wait, you’re not gonna make me a monarch, are you? I’m literally a little creature, and-”

“No. You are not ready to take the mantle of a kingdom…” Helene said it like an incomplete sentence; an unsaid ‘yet.’

“B-But I, I don’t even wanna take over Rafta,” Quinn clenched onto their crystal, suddenly getting anxious. They didn’t ask for this; they just got unlucky with their family line. Very, very, very, unlucky.

“You don’t have to have any precedent over Rafta if you so choose not to. However…” Helene’s face became downcast as she pulled out some paperwork, “…Though Rafta is considered ‘uncivilized’ by most other countries, I believe we do have to follow the protocol on what to do when we find a Royal.”

Quinn grimaced, “What protocol?”

The witch looked at Robin, “Robin, would you mind contacting Sylvia and telling her that Quinn is awake?”

“Of course not, Miss Helene. Be right back!” Robin zipped out of the room like a mouse. “What. Protocol.” Quinn repeated, feeling their heart bumping out of their chest.

“The protocol when we find a Royal is to train them so that they can learn to use their power wisely,” Helene finally explained, causing Quinn to raise a brow. “That’s all?”

“According to the universal law, training is not only pertaining to magic. You must also visit the monuments pertaining to each royal before.”

“Y-You mean…? I have to explore the entirety of the globe?” Quinn asked, to which Helene nodded, “Yes. At the very least, it could take a year or two. Though, if you so wish to, you can choose which time to visit each monument. We can work out a schedule together.”

The princen didn’t respond, they were still processing the whole ‘exploring the entire world’ thing. The world is pretty damn big.

Helene noticed Quinn’s silence, “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m sorry that this is all happening so fast. I promise I will explain everything and assist to the best of my ability.”

Quinn gave a slight incline of their head, but they still didn’t speak. She was right; it was a lot to take in at once. They saw Helene’s mimic staring at them from her side. “…What’s your mimic's name?”

Helene seemed slightly shocked by the question, her posture shifting ever so slightly, “…Her name is Casey. I understand that you have a mimic of your own.”

“I do. She looks young. Probably around a year old?” Quinn observed, holding out a gentle hand to the creature. Casey gave a shy little lick to their finger. Helene observed, “She is. I adopted her from the shelter exactly a year ago.”

That news calmed Quinn greatly; at least she was an ethical law person. Not to mention, a law person who liked weird animals with deadly teeth. “She’s a cutie.”

As if the world’s laws couldn’t possibly get any more skewed, Helene actually smiled. “I agree.”

After Quinn was done petting her, Casey opened up their mouth one more time. Quinn glared at the words; it was a list of all of their crimes throughout the many years of their time in Rafta. They knew this tender moment couldn’t last long.

“As I assume you are aware, Royals aren’t really known for having a track record.”

“Well, that doesn’t stop officials from having their own private track records. I’m just a bit more sloppy. And poor.”

Helene had a humor to her expression now, “I…shall make no comment on the matter.”

Self aware, too; this person might not be so bad. “So are you gonna take me to jail now?”

“No, I don’t believe that will be necessary. I just need you to make a pact with me, of sorts,” Helene said, pulling out yet another parchment.

“A pact? Am I becoming a warlock?”

“I don’t believe you need a god for power.”

“So what’s the pact?” Quinn asked, skimming the words on the paper in front of them. They seemed important, words like ‘meeting’ and ‘evaluation’ crossed their vision. But big words were their only weakness, and they quickly grew a headache. Helene explained, “What the contract basically says is that you have a meeting with me at the end of every week. Once you agree, all of your charges will be concealed. However, you have to not miss a single meeting.”

“…What’s gonna happen in these meetings?” Quinn asked, extremely wary. The witch ran her finger down on some of the words, “A check up, of sorts. Talking about your experiences, things that have happened throughout your life. The good and bad. To explore one’s past you have to look through yourself first.”

“Wow. That seems…not terrible,” the concept sounded familiar to them, they just couldn’t find the word. Quinn quickly grabbed a pen from Casey’s form and wrote down their name in horrific calligraphy. Helene snapped her fingers and the paper crashed into their face, disappearing into smoke. Quinn let out a few coughs as the lawyer spoke, “Now you are bound to this contract. If you break it, I will know, and there will be consequences.”

“Yea, yea,” Quinn coughed, waving the smoke away from their face. “Does that include the charge of stealing the Mavenbloom?”

“You didn’t commit the crime; Maven did. Robin and Sylvia explained the entire ordeal, and there are plenty of witnesses to tell the tale of Maven’s second coming.”

“So…what happened to her?”

Helene took a glance out the window, which Quinn followed, and saw that there was a prison at the far far end of the city, like a giant cinder block next to such color and life. It was also right next to Maven’s statue, as if an omen on what awaits people who like her tale just a little bit too much. “She is in a place where she can’t haunt Rafta anymore.”

Quinn stared at the building for a while, “…Good. That’s good…”

“I feel as if I should clarify,” Helene said, holding Casey by her handle, “No one else in Rafta knows of your parentage. Sylvia told me so that I could help you as much as I can, and to conceal your identity for the time being. No one knows that you are a Royal. I do.”

That caused relief to course through Quinn’s entire form; at least fifty concerned vanished at that news.

“Quinn?! Quinn!”

Sylvia burst into the hallway, almost slipping on the carpet, however Boxer was even faster, and he quickly charged into Quinn’s chest. They caught him with ease. “Boxer!”

The mimic barked happily and lathered them in his tongue, causing Quinn to laugh out loud. Their hair was now a mess, not that they cared. A familiar weight was gently placed on top of their now wet head, and the tongue of their hat was lifted up to reveal Sylvia. Not frumpy, completely unharmed, obnoxiously beautiful Sylvia.

“You’re alive! Was worried for a bit that you were too lazy to get up!”

Quinn smirked; she knew them like the back of her hand. They placed a smooch on her nose, which prompted Helene to silently leave, giving a slight wave. The room suddenly grew warmer. 

“You doing okay?” Quinn asked, “You aren’t too hurt, are you?”

Sylvia shook her head, some wispies getting in her face, “Nah. Just a few bruises and scratches, and some fume inhalation. My splash potions are still very much a work in progress.”

“Doesn’t matter, you can now summon fire ! That’s awesome!” Quinn cackled.

“I knew you’d like that. I could also make poison bombs, slowness smoke, blindness-“

Quinn never thought they would hear Sylvia’s rambles again. They didn’t realize how much they missed her voice; it could soothe them to sleep and awaken them in an instant. She reminded them that their cold dead heart wasn’t so dead after all.

“Are you gonna sell your new creations now? I’d buy twenty.”

Sylvia shook her head, “Nah. Too dangerous right now. Besides, I kinda want to use my own potions for my own adventures, y’know? Like a trademark.”

“Wait,” Quinn tilted their head, “You’re officially an adventurer now?”

“Well, mainly for practice. I’m pretty much only comfortable with exploring the wilds for ingredients right now, and maybe training with Mint and the others using the potions,” the potion seller gave a grin, “I have a feeling I have much bigger adventures ahead of me.”

Quinn’s mismatched eyes brightened, “You have no idea, blightroach.”

Sylvia’s eyes drifted over to the window, and she quickly went to see what’s down the street. Quinn walked beside her, Boxer floating by their side, and they saw the entirety of their friend group waving up at them. Mint held a cake in her hands, trying to wave while also not dropping her creation on the floor. Xid was blowing hardly on a kazoo, Roadie and Fret creating musical accompaniment. Baptiste was happily throwing confetti in the sky, and Corsac was responsible for holding up a banner; it said ‘Congrats Quinn!’

“Congrats? For what?”

Sylvia wrapped an arm around their shoulder, “For surviving the battle, and for just generally being awesome.”

More friends came up to the party down below. Luna excitedly held up a whiteboard with a message scribbled in purple marker, ‘MEET ME AFTER THE PARTY. WE HAVE RESEARCH TO DO.’ There was also a smiley face in the corner. Roxanne was gracefully waving up at Quinn, a look of complete relief on her face. Cece was wrapped around her shoulders, now at least ten feet long. Quinn felt their soul warm at the sight, she was getting so big!

Saffron was waving from down below, a blueprint in her arms; from the distance it looked like some sort of flying house contraption. Quinn didn’t like the idea when they first heard it from her back at the forest, but seeing it now they realized it would be really useful, especially since they now had a pretty long journey ahead of them.

Muktuk, Pepper, and Salt were down there too, the blacksmith holding a strange looking device up to the sky. It was their broom, and it now seemed much sturdier, and with two metal decided attached to it. Quinn tilted their head; they were almost small enough to put their feet through them. Even the cats seemed relatively excited to be there, though there was a strange look to their eyes. Quinn knew that look anywhere; it looked like they had something owed to them. Great.

Last but not least, Oswald ran up to the floor, holding what they assumed were deliveries. He gave a quick wave, a smile as bright as the day, before leaving to work. Sylvia waved back, the same grin on her own face. Helene also looked up at them for a brief moment as she walked away; a look of contentment. Oh, ‘Therapy’! That’s the word.

“I…That’s a lotta people,” Quinn noted. “I didn’t realize how many friends I have.”

“Many of us don’t. But after fighting a dragon and staring death in the face, it puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Yea…” Quinn looked up at Sylvia, “It does.” Their girlfriend gave a glance at them, grasping their hand, “You wanna head down there now?”

“Sure, but…” Quinn put their nose against hers, “…I feel like I need to thank you. For saving my life and all that.”

“You being here is the only reward I need,” Sylvia ran fingers through their hair.

“Yea, but like, you literally almost died for me.”

“And I’ll do it again,” she said, not a single notion of jest in her voice.

“You know, somehow the idea of you risking your life for my own isn’t as hot as you think it is.”

“You could reward me with the trademark kiss, if you really want to. Though…You’re not the average princen, are you?”

“No I’m not, but,” Quinn stuck out their tongue and pulled Sylvia closer via the waist, “This time, I think it’s safe to say that you’ve earned this one. Just know this is a freebie. The rest you have to pay for.” That caused Sylvia to pout playfully, and, gods, Quinn wanted to give her as many freebies as possible.

Boxer, ever the gentleman, used his teeth to close the curtains, so that the two could have their well-earned kiss in peace. Quinn hoped that this moment won’t be retold in some fancy book.

No words could describe this.

—

The cell was a lot more pristine than Quinn was expecting. The prison was filled with other criminals, of course, but the main honcho cell, the one with the former witch queen, was very…large.

It was a huge lizard habitat, with straw, a couple decorative trees, and a very comfortable looking rock to sleep in. Though it looked like a pretty decent terrarium, Quinn imagined that Maven would’ve been quite embarrassed to be stuck in that place for the rest of her waking life.

Quinn walked up to the seven feet tall window, with the sign that warned against knocking on the glass, and promptly knocked on the glass. Maven crawled out of her hidey hole, looking worse for wear. Of course, the potion effects wore off by now, and she was back to being her miniature lizard self. They felt the tiniest bit bad that she couldn’t turn back into her human form, at least not yet. But at the same time she committed so much murder, kidnapping, and slavery that it seemed fair to keep her in this form forever.

Still, Quinn thought it would’ve been a bit nice to see how Maven’s features matched their own.

“Morning,” Quinn greeted, trying their best not to look cheeky. It was satisfying seeing where Maven truly belonged.

The lizard glared at Quinn from the window, “…Hello, Your Highness. What do you want? Came to gloat?” Quinn huffed, “Gods, I wish. But, I’m here to give you a little something.”

The princen pulled out a plastic bag and placed it on a tray next to the habitat, made for letters from other people who wish to speak to her, normally reserved for family. However, the only letters taking occupancy were two addressed in little hearts and cursive. It reminded them that the world would always be filled with stupid people.

Quinn placed the baggie down, and watched as the tray lifted up via piston, another one pushing the letters into the tiniest crevice. Maven grumpily ripped open the baggie and pulled out the contents.

Two photos were there; one of Maven and Malachi, another of the twins and their parents.

The visitor held onto their crystal ball as Maven gave no expression, just a simple “Hmph.” Afterward, she turned her head towards Quinn, her eyes squinting. “…Why?”

“…I just thought that you deserved to remember what your family looked like. I never met mine, so I don’t really have a use for it. But…” Quinn pressed their lips together, “…I’m going to find Malachi. My dad, I mean. He needs to get his arse kicked for what he did to me.”

That caused Maven to finally gain an expression. Her pupils dilated, just the slightest bit. “…Now how are you going to find him? You don’t even know his face. Not really.”

“Yea,” the clairvoyant held onto their crystal ball, the purple light casting a glow on their face, “But I have a pretty damn good idea.”

Not only did they have the painting Saffron made, her tales of working with him, some of the photos still left behind in the box filled with Maven’s confiscated belongings, but they finally got their monocle back. It felt good to have it resting against their neck again. Quinn fiddled with the object before looking at Maven again, “What’s this even for, anyway?”

Maven huffed, placing the photos behind her, “You’re the only living member of this family left, and that’s the heirloom. You figure it out.”

They did their best not to growl; part of them knew she was going to be a bit disagreeable. “I will. And I’ll rub it in your face when I figure myself out. The right way.”

The fallen queen was on her way to the habitat, but before she could fully crawl into the shadows, she gave one last glance to her apprentice. “You know there are people far more evil than I, right?”

“Of course,” Quinn took this as a cue to head back to the elevator where they came from, where Boxer waited patiently, “And I can’t wait to meet them.”

With that, the doors between Maven and Quinn closed.

Onto an unknown ever after.

Chapter Text

Wow, that was certainly an experience. Wrote an entire novel in the span of three months, not a huge deal. No biggie.

But in all seriousness, I am eternally grateful for everyone who made this story possible. Without you all, I would’ve never completed this fic, and I probably would’ve burnt out.

I don’t really have a tendency to complete big projects like this, especially when it’s fanfiction, because I always felt like I’d never do these wonderful characters that inspire me justice. But, I believe I did them right, and you lovely readers reaffirmed me.

To all of those who commented, to those who left Kudos, Bookmarks, and to those who simply read this before going to sleep. And especially to Voracious Games for making a world that inspired me so greatly, I am eternally grateful to all of you.

If you want to see me continue, do some specific stories, or want to see me tackle other fandoms, let me know. I also have a Twitter @HeavenTheAnge, with a Ko-Fi link that you can donate to, if you wish (it’s kind of a hell hole though, I need to update it soon).

See you on the other side, and thank you again.

Heav~