Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marcy Wu is totally over what happened in Amphibia, thank you very much.

Really, she's completely at peace with everything that went down when she was thirteen.

In her therapist's estimation, her mental health is under control.

According to her dermatologist, the scar on her chest is barely noticeable.

And per her professors...well, they think she could stand to doodle less in class.

But aside from that, twenty-three-year-old Marcy Wu is doing quite well for herself.

That's why it's exceptionally devastating when her near-perfect world crashes down around her.

The stitches Marcy worked so hard to repair come undone on a sunny afternoon. A grin splits her face when she hears the click of a key in a lock, heralding the return of her favorite roommate to date. Sasha Waybright is a sight to behold as she strolls across the threshold, all rippling muscles and megawatt smiles. The latter are nothing short of dazzling, causing Marcy's heartbeat to hiccup as her girlfriend flashes her teeth. She only grows more flustered when her partner greets her, opting for a flirty remark instead of a simple hello:

"Permission to roll for romance, Dungeon Master?" Sasha takes Marcy's giggles as a yes, scooping a green die up so she can try her luck. "Would you look at that," she purrs when the piece of plastic lands on the carpet. "A nat 20. What sort of affection would you say that warrants?"

"And you have the audacity to call me a dork." Marcy rolls her eyes playfully as she pulls her girlfriend close, brushing Sasha's blonde fringe out of her face with careful fingers. "Come here, you big nerd." The apartment buzzes with contented hums as their lips connect, breaking apart and coming back together again and again. They've been meeting like this for weeks now, but neither of them has gotten used to being so intimate. Not yet, anyway--judging by the intensity of their nips and pecks, they're more than willing to practice until they do.

"I've got a surprise for you," Sasha breathes when they reluctantly separate. Marcy whines as her partner walks away, depriving her of the steady presence that's become a constant in her life. Her pout deepens with every second she spends outside Sasha's embrace, but a familiar scent relaxes her frown as it fills the room. Where her senses were once flooded with the smell of strawberry chapstick, they're tickled now by notes of sugar and cocoa.

"Are those--"

"--cupcakes from the expensive bakery down the street? Maaaaaybe." Sasha's beaming as she holds out a colorful box, one that's brimming with ruby crumbs and violet icing. "You still like these, right?"

"I...yeah." To say Marcy's touched would be an understatement--her eyes are misty as she peels back a wrapper, clouding over with a mix of joy and astonishment. "You remembered."

"Hey," Sasha quietly begins as she takes a pastry of her own. "I know I wasn't the best friend to you back then, but I was listening sometimes. Come on," she continues, holding up her dessert in a silent invitation. "Let's see if these taste as good as you remember." They clink their baked goods together like cups, and soon enough--

"Holy frog." Marcy lets out an appreciative hum around a mouthful of sprinkles, because this sweet treat has stood the test of time. A wave of nostalgia washes over her as her palate sings, but so does something else:

Speaking of which, here are those cupcakes you asked for.  

Red velvet with ube frosting! Marcy's fave!

...okay, it's possible that Marcy isn't as put-together as she says. This, unfortunately, isn't the first suppressed memory of hers to resurface. Every now and then, something that's seemingly mundane will trigger a flashback, filling a gap in Marcy's recollection of her time as Darcy. The sight of cruel orange eyes combines with the warped sound of her voice, souring the flavor of the confection by painting her tongue in acidity and bitterness. Sasha's fixing her with a hopeful look, though, so Marcy forces a swallow as well as a grin:

"Delicious."

"Oh, good--I was worried that place wouldn't live up to the hype." If Sasha notices the subtle shift in her girlfriend's demeanor, she doesn't show it. Instead, she kisses a streak of buttercream off Marcy's cheek, beckoning her partner towards the couch with a come-hither wink. "I know you'll like the movie I picked for tonight, though--feast your eyes on this."

"The director's cut of War of the Warlocks? Sashy," Marcy exhales as she gazes at the TV in disbelief. "They only released three copies of this, how did you--why would you--"

"So I could see how cute you look when you get excited--obviously." Sasha scoots to one side of the sofa as she speaks, patting the empty space next to her with a welcoming smile. She holds out the remote when her girlfriend hesitates, offering Marcy full control over the rest of their evening. "Now sit down--I need at least an hour of Marshmallow cuddles to function."

"I--but--Sasha." Marcy's steps are halting and small, as if she's walking into a prank rather than a date. Uncertain fingers tug on her hoodie as she inches forward, fiddling with the strings at her neck to release her nervous energy. "You fell asleep last time--I'm not going to force you to do something you won't like."

"You're not forcing me--I'm volunteering." Sasha reaches out when Marcy's within range, gathering her girlfriend into her lap with loving arms. The tender embrace stills the latter's fidgeting, calming her restless movements so she can relax against the former's chest. "Besides, Amphibia gave me an appreciation for battle strategy--no way I'll find this boring after leading a rebellion. I'm out of the loop on the Lich King lore, though. Know any adorable geeks who can explain it to me?"

"Hmm. My pen pal in Connecticut probably could. Ally and Jess, too--they review the whole series on their second channel. Oh, and it turns out Gabby from grade school is--ah! Sasha, what gives?"

"I'm trying to woo you, Wu," her partner replies, reveling in Marcy's laughter as her fingers spider along her sides. "You're the only adorable geek for me."

"I'm going to tell Anne you said that." Sasha's tickling intensifies at the teasing threat, but not too much, because her head is suddenly swimming with visions of their other girlfriend. She imagines Anne waxing poetic about newts as she coaxes more squeals from Marcy, delighting both her ears and her mind as the sun sets outside. "Okay, okay, I surrender--your secret's safe with me."

"Good," Sasha grins, taking her partner's hands when she raises them in defeat. "Let's get this party started," she goes on, pressing her lips to her girlfriend's knuckles before she hits play. "I can't wait to hear the exclusive Marcy commentary."

"Really? Well...okay, if you say so." At first, her interjections are short and sweet, like sprinkles on top of an ice cream sundae. But with each scene that flashes in front of their eyes, Marcy grows bolder, letting her thoughts flow as if they're rivers of hot fudge:

"Isn't that your favorite character, Mars Bar?"

"Heck yeah! The archer's the best--not only does he have an awesome backstory, but he's also the one who came up with the plan...to..."

It's how we recognized your little ruse. War of the Warlocks? Very cute.

No. Marcy shakes her head as she swallows the bile that's rising in her throat, because there's no universe where she would insult or imprison her girls. This has to be...what did the doctor call it? A false memory. If that had actually happened, I would've snapped out of it, or fought back, and there's no way Anne or Sasha would have talked to me again. Yet here the latter is, gazing at her partner with a combination of fondness and concern.

"You okay, Marmalade?" Sasha tucks a lock of hair behind her girlfriend's ear as she poses the question, revealing a pair of pinched brows and a worried frown. The knot in Marcy's stomach loosens under the tender gesture, unwinding beneath the reassurance that radiates from her partner's presence.

Sasha wouldn't have let someone who was that awful move in. Her inner voice is firm and confident as it echoes in her mind, soothing the nerves that have been frazzled by this glimpse into her past. Besides, even if I did do those things, neither of my girls got hurt, and that's what's important.

"I'm good," Marcy nods as the final battle unfolds on the screen before them. "I just get a little...overstimulated sometimes."

"Right, you mentioned that when we had lunch with Anne last week." Sasha's sentence is simple, but the sentiment behind it makes her girlfriend's heart flutter.

She was paying attention, Marcy internally swoons as her partner pauses the movie. Gosh, we really have come so far since we were kids. Nowhere is that more apparent than in what Sasha says next:

"Want to take a break and make dinner? You can tell me more about that swordswoman character while I cook."

"You mean while I cook," Marcy teases as she makes a beeline for the pantry. "Didn't you almost burn water yesterday, Waybright?"

"The key word is almost," Sasha fires back, playfully grabbing at the jar of pasta sauce in her girlfriend's hands. "Come on, Marbles--let me dazzle your taste buds!"

"Dazzle isn't the word for what you'd be doing." The kitchen fills with giggles as they vie for control of the food, but their fun-loving tousle comes to an end when the lid gets loose.

"Nooooo! I've been hit!" It's then that Sasha clutches her chest, dramatically sinking to her knees as she's splattered with marinara. The thin red liquid quickly soaks her breastplate sweatshirt, flecking the ends of her long short tresses like blood. Sasha's features are painted in terror jest as she looks up at Marcy, her face awash in the glow of a flaming scythe the fluorescent lights. The latter rubs her eyes as her vision flickers, oscillating between a domestic scene and a waking nightmare.

Great, Marcy thinks once she gets her bearings. Now I'm seeing things, too. Maybe I can move up my Tuesday appointment, she muses as she moves to wet a rag, but Sasha's hand on her arm stops her in her tracks.

"Pretty sure only the washing machine can save this one, Marce. Let me go get one of my old cheerleading hoodies."

"Wait!" Sasha's already down the hall when a lightbulb goes off above her partner's head, because it turns out that both of them brought home a surprise. "Oh, she is going to love this," Marcy mutters to herself as she picks up a pullover. The sweater is soft, and fluffy, and--most importantly--punny. "This little guy looks just like Grime," she whispers excitedly, running the tips of her fingers over the fuzzy amphibian. "And this joke would make anyone laugh. I've been toad I'm unbeleapable--instant classic!" Marcy takes the cracked bathroom door as a sign that it's all right to enter, wearing a grin that's brimming with anticipation. "Sashy, check this out--as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get...it...for you..."

"Mar-Mar? Is something wrong?" Sasha doesn't receive a response, because her girlfriend chokes on her own breath, shocked at the sight of skin split by a furious scar. This mark is a far cry from the faded white line on Marcy's body--it's loud, and pink, and gnarled, angrily clawing its way up her partner's frame. She gulps as her pulse begins to thunder in her wrists, pumping horror through her veins like the data that was forced into them.

"Your back," Marcy gasps as her hands fly to her mouth. "What happened?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Sasha bats the question away with a nonchalant wave, throwing her girlfriend a smile that's meant to put her at ease. "It's no big deal--most of the time, I forget it's even there."

"Sasha, this is a huge deal." Marcy's voice is high and tiny, straining under the distress of being faced with such a brutal wound. "How did you get something that looks so painful?" The gears in her mind turn faster when her eyes land on her partner's cheek, where a half moon sits opposite her beauty mark. "Is this from Amphibia?" Marcy fearfully murmurs, nervously wringing her hands as the sky fades from red to orange. "Did the war do this to you?"

"No, baby--this didn't happen in frog world, I promise." Sasha pointedly avoids the second question, planting a pit of dread deep within her girlfriend's stomach. "Is that for me? It's adorbs--Grimesy would love it. Here, let's see if it fits--"

"Frog-vasion, then?" Marcy doesn't allow Sasha to change the subject. She can't--she has to know if her biggest mistake is responsible for this in some way. Marcy's heart drops when Sasha hesitates, summoning tears of regret to the corners of her eyes. "Oh, geez, Sasha, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't gotten us stranded, this never would've--"

"Relax, girlfriend." Sasha cloaks the G word in hushed tones as it slips past her teeth, aiming to calm the storm that's brewing in her partner's brain. But despite her best intentions, the term of endearment stokes the tempest instead:

Dropping by without calling? So rude. Then again, we're not surprised. Marcy always thought you were kind of a brute.

That's not true, she silently screams as her head starts to spin. I always thought she was kind of cute!

Aw, don't you wanna know what she really thinks of you?

Sasha, don't listen to this thing, Marcy wordlessly begs as her ears begin to ring. I think the world of you--I always have, that's why I tried so hard to keep us together!

Well, then--let's rumble, girlfriend.

"Marcy? Can you hear me? Marcy!" Sasha's increasingly anxious cries of her partner's name go unanswered, swallowed by wave after wave of unwelcome memories:

Oh, no, you don't.

Leave her alone! Marcy's soundless plea is smothered in desperation, but it's powerless to stop her hand from letting a fiery dagger fly. The grunt that's wrung out of the soldier in the flashback stamps itself onto her spirit, stinging so sharply that she doesn't hear the real Sasha trying to ground her:

"Follow my lead, sunshine," she gently instructs as her girlfriend wheezes and pants. "We can't have you passing out. Remember that exercise I was telling you about? The one that helps some of my patients with panic attacks? It's inhale for four, hold for seven, and exhale for eight..." Sasha's directions are audible and measured, but they still get lost in a swirl of new mental souvenirs:

Gotcha!

Please, stop--I don't want to hurt her! Marcy's arms refuse to heed her noiseless command, hefting a weapon over the helmet that started this whole mess. The Sasha she sees is crumpled on the floor in defeat, but the one beside her isn't giving up:

"I know you can come back to me, Martian. Here, let's switch gears--do you smell the hand soap I bought the other day? It's mint chocolate chip, your favorite." Sure enough, a strong, fresh aroma makes its way to Marcy's nose, riding the coattails of the next puff of air she sucks in. The cool menthol breaks through the fog of tension that's clouding her perception, slowly coaxing her unsettled sensibilities back down to earth. But as the fragrant suds clear away the agitated haze, one last harrowing sequence plays out on her mind's main stage:

You think these cheap tricks will work on me?  

Yup!

An agonized scream is wrenched from past Sasha's lungs when flames meet flesh, searing itself into Marcy's soul as she returns to the present. She stumbles back on unsteady feet when her partner extends a cautious hand, cowering beneath the weight of a terrible truth and a worry that burns. Once she musters up the will to speak, Marcy's voice shakes, trembling with both shame and betrayal:

"I did this to you," she dismays as the planes of her face crinkle in anguish. "I hurt you so bad it left a scar, and you didn't tell me--nobody told me!"

"Marcy," Sasha gingerly begins as she chances a small stride towards her girlfriend. "You had already been through so much--we just wanted you to focus on getting better. Besides, you weren't in control--you didn't know what was going on."

"That makes it even worse!" Marcy's frenzied distress gives way to a sticky guilt as she sobs, prickling and itching like a mosquito bite in the middle of summer. The viscous remorse threatens to suffocate her as it crawls across her form--she has to get away, she needs to leave, now.

"Wait, let's talk about this--shit!" Sasha lunges forward a little too fast, cursing as she trips over a frog-shaped bath mat. She scrambles to find her footing as well as a way to cover herself, but by the time she gets her balance and a blouse, her partner is gone. Sasha's fingers are clumsy with unease as she punches numbers into her phone, fretfully pacing up and down to the tune of the chimes on the line:

Rrrrring...rrrrring...rrrrring...click!

Chapter Text

"Hunter Deamonne-Noceda-Clawthorne-Whispers."

"Yes, Blight?"

"You can't wear that on your first date with Willow."

"Why not?" The boy in question looks genuinely bewildered, glancing down at his shirt with furrowed brows. Hunter's frown deepens as he struggles to understand which part of it has offended Amity. Is it the cartoony wolf with googly eyes in the middle? Or the amateurish stitches that hold the animal in place? No, it's probably the pun--my friends say I'm awooooosome. "I'll have you know that Willow happens to love my sense of humor."

"Maybe she does," Amity starts as she wrinkles her nose, "but the demons who run that fancy restaurant near the ribs will not. Back me up, Gus."

"Sorry, O'Bailey, but Amity's right. My dad took me there after graduation, and the dress code doesn't include your Lightning McQueen shoes."

"Et tu, Captain Avery?" Hunter dramatically clutches his chest as he speaks, earning a good-natured eyeroll from the girl next to him. "Camila said she liked them."

"She's your mom, Hunter," Amity chuckles as she jokingly elbows him. "She's supposed to say things like that."

"Well, what should I wear, then?" Hunter questions with a huff as he crosses his arms.

"I am so glad you asked." Gus's smile is a mile wide as he steers his friends towards the portal door. "To the thrift store!"

The Gravesfield air that greets them makes Amity feel like she's being welcomed home. She relaxes beneath the warm breeze that ushers the trio along the sidewalk, humming contentedly as her body is drained of stress and tension. The weightless sensation follows her into the second-hand shop, wrapping around her shoulders like one of Camila's hugs. As she rifles through a rack of suit jackets, she revels in the cozy embrace, unaware that this blissful interlude is about to end.

"Sooooo," Gus begins as he bends over a box of colorful bow ties. "Should we be looking for dresses, too?"

"It's been a while since I've worn one of those," Amity laughs with a glance at her gooey work clothes. "Why, did Eda and Raine finally set a wedding date?"

"Not yet," Gus responds with a shake of his head, "but a little bird told me that you and Luz have a milestone coming up soon."

"That Waffles is quite the gossip," Amity giggles as she slips a sleek blazer off a hanger.

"I heard that," Hunter pipes up from where he's perusing a window display. "Please tell me my palisman is wrong--you don't actually celebrate the anniversary of the first time you held hands, do you?"

"What can I say?" Amity replies with a dreamy sigh. "It was a magical day."

"And I thought Matt and I were bad," Gus grins as he offers Amity a gown. It's long, and purple, and lacy, and perfect."How about something like this? I can see Luz swooning already."

"Hopefully I'll see it too," Amity winks as Hunter pretends to retch in the background. "Make sure our resident nerd doesn't try on any Crocs while I'm gone."

"You're a bigger dork than I am, Blight!" Hunter calls after her as she heads for the dressing rooms. "Don't think I didn't see you working on your Hecate costume yesterday!"

"I have got to get a lock for my clubhouse," Amity groans as she slips into a stall. There's no bite to be found in her muttered remark, though. While teenage Amity would rather have died than share her secret room, her current self can't imagine life without the memories she's made there. She's traded cold nights studying alone for cozy afternoon book clubs, and the former recluse couldn't be happier for the drastic change. It's as plain as the fond smile that's spreading across her face, growing wider and brighter with each sentimental moment she revisits:

I almost spit out my apple blood when Gus did that impression of Tibbles, Amity giggles as she unzips the dress. I'll have to ask him to help me with storytime, the kids would love him--

RRRRRIP!

"What the...?" Amity trails off as she takes in the torn fabric, split where she tried to pull it over her thighs. "They must have made the seams too tight," she murmurs to herself as she turns around. "Wait until I show Papa Darius--this shoddy craftsmanship will drive him mad." Amity doesn't end up texting her stepfather, though, because as she reaches for her phone, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The problem, she realizes with a sinking heart, isn't defective stitches--it's her.

"I don't understand," Amity breathes as she runs stunned fingers over her hips. "I'm on my feet all day in the lab. When--how--did this happen?" The longer she stares at her reflection, the more it seems to warp, and every shift brings her closer to a horrifying epiphany:

The vibrant lilac color of her hair curdles into a sickly green hue.

The ponytail sprouting from her head shrinks into a severe bun.

And the shiny gold shade of her eyes fades into an icy blue.

Amity's stomach drops like a dumbwaiter whose rope has been cut, because her worst nightmare is coming true--she's turning into her mother. She doesn’t just see Odalia in the swell of her waist--she hears her, too, whispering the same poison her children were raised on:

So this is what happens when I'm not there to guide you. With the way you've let yourself go, that gown was nearly torn in two!

Who cares if I've gone up a size? And a half, Amity quietly adds as she grabs her sweatpants. That witch puberty book you gave me said our bodies aren't supposed to stay the same.

You can't blame that hair on anything but your poor taste. Amity's cheeks burn with shame when she imagines the disapproving click of a tongue. The sound makes her feel like she's five years old again, trembling as she faces the music for a subpar test score. Did you shave it in the dark, or were the uneven edges a conscious decision?

It's called an undercut, Amity thinks, blinking back tears as her inner demons continue their assault. These petty insults shouldn't be pushing her to the verge of sobs, but after being fed only love and support for so long, her hard shell has softened. They're all the rage in the Human Realm.

I'm feeling rage just looking at what you've done to your skin. The tattoo on Amity's arm seems to sting when attention is called to it. The symbol of her fallen friend quickly grows wet, drowning in salty drops of embarrassment and insecurity. It's like someone gave a marker to a five-year-old with no self-control.

Maybe, Amity sniffs as she shimmies back into her button-up, because her cross-hatching has only improved so much. But my girlfriend doesn't care.

Clearly, the woman behind the glass agrees with a scoff. How long has it been since you've heard from her now--ten hours, twelve?

Twenty-four, Amity weakly confesses with an uneasy glance at her scroll. The screen is uncharacteristically dark, empty of the near-hourly texts she's used to getting. But that's just because she’s busy helping the BATs clean up the Emperor's Castle.

Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart, the devil on her shoulder cruelly purrs.

It's the truth! Amity snaps as she moves to rejoin the boys. Luz loves me for who I am, no matter how often we talk.

You mean she loved you for who you were. Those words freeze Amity in her tracks, keeping her gaze fully trained on her changed frame. As far as I can see, the Amity who swept her off her feet is nowhere to be found.

Amity hates to admit it--she really, truly does--but her internal critic has a point. Luz fell head over heels for a girl who had straight hair, and got straight A's, and was straightforward. But the woman across from Amity is all wild curves and reckless edges--she's a mess that clashes in so many ways and takes up far too much space. Here, there's no trace of the witch who won Luz's heart, so how can Amity ever hope to keep it? Her insides tie themselves in knots as she anxiously wrings her hands, imagining all sorts of horrible fates that could befall her:

Luz tearing the card she made for their special day in half, ripping her heart as cleanly and swiftly as she does the paper.

Luz returning to Earth one day and deciding to make her stay permanent.

Luz running away with another girl, one who's smarter, and stronger, and skinnier--

"Hey, Blight--did you get lost in there, or something?"

"What Hunter means to ask," Gus amends with a roll of his eyes, "is are you okay?"

"Yep!" Amity answers too fast for the liking of her friends as she darts past them empty-handed. "Let's check out before Hunter changes his mind about the waistcoat," she goes on with a nod at the garments in his arms.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" The boy in question furrows his brows at how eager she is to leave, and they knit even further together when he spies the dress she left behind.

"Nah," Amity responds as she bats his words away with a blasé wave. "It's not my style."

"What?" Gus's features crease with confusion as he glances between her and the discarded gown. "But it's all your favorite things!" Amity knows he's not wrong, but she doesn't have the strength to admit that the dress didn't fit. All she can do is push herself towards the exit, because she's been humiliated enough for one day. Unfortunately, Gus isn't going to let her escape so easily: "Hey, wait up--Willow texted while you were in there," he continues, and the mention of their mutual friend makes her hesitate. "She's going to meet us at Camila's for maduros."

"...maybe another time." Amity's stomach growls in protest, as if to say but you love mamá's maduros! She does--the slices of salty-sweetness taste like the childhood she never had. But the memory of Odalia won't allow her this small comfort, reaching out from the past to meddle in her daughter's present:

Are you sure you need those? Venom oozes from the seemingly innocuous ask onto Amity's shoulders, making them sink with each bit that hits her skin. No wonder that gown was snug on you. All this homemade food from the Human Realm has gone right to your--

"Boiling Isles to Blight." Hunter's expression crinkles with concern as he moves a hand back and forth in front of her face. "Come in, Blight. If you're spacing out because you're daydreaming about proposing to Luz again--"

"Oh, please--you've been doodling 'Hunter Park' in the margins of your notebook for weeks." The chance to drop a snarky comeback snaps Amity out of it, as does the chime of the text tone she uses for Willow. "I have to take this," she claims, sounding truly apologetic as she seizes the excuse to bolt. "I'll see you at home."

"...should we go after her?" Gus asks after a befuddled beat.

"...let's give her some space," Hunter eventually replies in a tone that's heavy with empathy. "There's something else I want to get, anyway." Amity doesn't hear that, though--she's already outside, type, type, typing as she makes a beeline for the forest:

HELLO_WILLOW: guess who has two thumbs and is ready to murder a plate of fried plantains?

HELLO_WILLOW: it's this girl--practice was brutal today.

HELLO_WILLOW: save me some snacks before hunter and gus inhale them all?

WITCHCHICK128: wish i could, but we just got a last-minute order for sticky launchers.

HELLO_WILLOW: ami, i know you're a big important CEO now, but you have to take time for yourself once in a while!

WITCHCHICK128: how about this weekend?

WITCHCHICK128: would you be okay with me crashing your saturday morning workout?

HELLO_WILLOW: are you sure?

HELLO_WILLOW: i go pretty hard, and you already do so much lifting in the workshop.

WITCHCHICK128: not enough, apparently.

HELLO_WILLOW: what?

WITCHCHICK128: i mean.

WITCHCHICK128: of course i'm sure.

WITCHCHICK128: if hunter keeps up with you, how difficult can it really be?

* * *

Willow's Saturday morning workout ends up being incredibly difficult.

Impossibly difficult.

More difficult than any exam that Amity has ever taken.

More difficult, even, than saying no to Luz, a feat she only ever accomplished when they weren't dating.

Amity collapses in a sweaty heap when her friend's stopwatch goes off, letting out a groan that's loud enough to be heard in Gravesfield.

"That. Was. Grueling," she gasps in between ragged breaths, panting like she's just run a marathon. Willow's chuckles surface above the wild beats of Amity's heart, tickling her ears as they thud with her pounding pulse.

"That was the warm-up." The former tries to smother her laughter with a hand when the latter's eyes grow wide. It doesn't work. "Oh, gosh--you look as shocked as Hunter did when I told him."

"Willow...Petunia...Park," Amity wheezes as she flops over in the grass. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I could do that," Willow starts as Clover buzzes around her shoulders. "Or I could call a break for lunch--Emperor's Empanadas has a sale going on today."

"I'm so glad they didn't close that place." The promise of delicious food coaxes Amity to her feet, but her conscience makes her reconsider with a snide whisper:

Undoing what little progress you've made so soon? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised--your willpower always has left a lot to be desired.

"...actually, let's keep going," Amity backtracks, even as her muscles and bones ache for a rest. "I refuse to be outdone by that boyfriend of yours."

"He's not my boyfriend yet. We haven't even gone on a real--" Willow cuts herself off when Ghost rubs up against her legs, delivering a message in mews low enough that Amity can't hear. "Never mind," she begins when the palisman is finished. "We are definitely going to eat--care to share why you've only had ghoul-ash for the past five days?"

"Snitch," Amity mutters under her breath as Willow links their arms together. Her cat just gives her a good-natured hiss in return, as if to say well excuse me for caring about you. "You know how I get when I'm busy--I'm lucky if I remember my own name, much less my lunchbox." The former squirms beneath the latter's searching gaze as her excuse hangs in the air. It's not technically a lie, but Amity can't tell Willow the truth. She refuses to make her worry that she isn't eating enough, because she's already put this poor girl through way too much. Case in point:

"Oh man," Willow groans as they stroll through the streets of Bonesborough. "You're giving me flashbacks to the Great Finals Disaster of '22. Hooty had to kidnap you because you spent a week locked in your room."

"It's been years, and I'm still picking owl pellets out of my hair." The memory isn't the only thing that makes Amity shudder. Soon enough--too soon for her liking--she and Willow are huddled over a pile of savory pockets of dough. Her fingers itch to reach out and crack open a flaky pastry, but she tucks her hands under her thighs in an effort to resist.

"So." It doesn't take long for Amity to be tempted--Willow slides the dish towards her with a scrrrrrape, flooding her senses with streams of mouthwatering steam. "Remember how you braided my hair for my papas' vow renewal?"

"I'd be happy to do it for your date, too," Amity replies, answering her friend's question before it's even asked.

"You're the best." The kind words release a burst of warm fuzzies in Amity's chest, giving her a short reprieve from a never-ending stream of self-deprecating thoughts. "I'm going to return the favor one of these days--maybe for your anniversary?"

"Actually, I was planning on switching it up," Amity responds, swallowing a lump in her throat when Ghost nudges a turnover towards her. "Think Eda would give me a discount on a vial of green dye? And a potion to grow out this undercut?"

"You're her future daughter-in-law--of course she would." Willow's reply is fast and matter-of-fact, but her next words are concerned: "Are you sure you want that stuff, though? This shade of purple has been your favorite color since we were kids. And you couldn't wait to get a shave, so you had King of all demons help you."

"For a creature without thumbs, he's surprisingly good at styling." Amity does her best to pretend she doesn't see Clover as he doggedly pushes a hand pie in her direction. "I know I hated the way my mom did my hair, but I just...want to look nice for Luz, that's all."

"Ami, you could wear a garbage bag and she would still swoon over you. Gus and I would know," Willow goes on when Amity appears unconvinced. "Luz spent half our last movie night saying how cute you look in your lab coat."

"The one with the apple blood stains I can't wash out?" Amity asks as she cocks her head in confusion.

"That's the one," Willow confirms in between bites of ground beef. "When she wasn't calling you a goddess, she was gushing about the tattoo you're getting together."

"...oh." Amity shoves the concealer in her pocket as far down as it can go, feeling ashamed that she thought of applying it to the art on her arm. She cringes even harder when a rumble rips through her midsection, causing three pairs of eyes to swivel on her like spotlights.

"Tell you what," Willow starts as the sun climbs high overhead. "I'll come over the night before to help you get ready if you split this last meat pie with me. But first, can I have a hug? They say you need eight to twelve a day, and I'm only up to two so far."

"You drive a hard bargain, Park." It doesn't take much to twist Amity's arm at this point--not when her resolve has been crumbled by hunger and exhaustion. Willow's safe embrace melts Amity's troubles into a puddle, but the same can't be said for the baked good. Its rich filling tastes like a mix of guilt and relief, burning and soothing her insides at the same time. Amity's so distracted by the conflicting sensations that she doesn't notice her friend texting under the table:

HELLO_WILLOW: hey.

HELLO_WILLOW: so.

HELLO_WILLOW: remember how you said amity was acting weird the other day?

gustopher: uh-oh.

gustopher: i take it things haven't changed much?

HELLO_WILLOW: i got her to eat something that isn't gruel, but she's saying all this stuff that just...isn't her.

gustopher: is it possible we're dealing with a shapeshifter?

gustopher: wouldn't be the first time this month.

HELLO_WILLOW: no, this is something different.

HELLO_WILLOW: i don't want to pry too much, though--you know how she shuts down when she feels cornered.

gustopher: i'd call luz, but my messages to her still aren't going through.

gustopher: luckily, i have a Plan E.

HELLO_WILLOW: don't you mean a Plan B?

gustopher: nope!

gustopher added █████ and ████ to the chat

█████: what's up, nerds?

████: did you get stuck in the swings at the slayground again?

gustopher: that was ONE TIME.

HELLO_WILLOW: we do need your help, though.

█████: what's in it for us?

████: yeah, we don't work cheap.

gustopher: even if it's for amity?

█████: especially if it's for amity.

████: mhmm--we call it the friends and family upcharge.

HELLO_WILLOW: we'll give you two bags of hex mix to come home early.

█████: sold--restoring the rest of the looking glass ruins can wait.

████: see you dorks soon--and make sure you get the party blend!

* * *

To-Do List The Gay Agenda

Well, ten out of twenty isn't bad. Even Amity doesn't buy her own attempt at a pep talk. She exhales heavily as she crumples her calendar into a ball, but neither crinkles nor sighs can drown her internal critic out:

You know as well as I do that fifty percent is a failing grade. Amity wilts under the nasty dig, and an equally unkind comment makes her shoulders droop even lower: It's clear you're not up to the task of cleaning yourself up, her inner voice continues, because her hips are still wide, and her hair is still tousled, and her skin is still marked. You'll have to hide this mess instead.

Finding the twins' old concealment stones in the manor is easy, and so is slipping them on. What's hard is facing her reflection in the full-length mirror Odalia left behind. The minty locks and willowy frame are more in line with her mother's standards, but they aren't Amity--not anymore:

The muscle she's built from engineering abominations has disappeared.

There's no trace of the laugh lines etched into her face by good times with her friends.

And the glow she's gained from restful days has been swallowed by a frazzled pallor.

Amity's throat burns with unshed tears as she gazes at the glass, because the girl looking back at her is a distant memory--a remnant from bygone times she wants to forget. The dam threatens to break as the mask of her past covers her present imperfections, because it feels wrong--neither version of her is right in these blurry eyes. No matter what she does, Amity will never be good enough--for her mother, or her girlfriend, or--

"Whoa, what's going on in here?"

"Good thing we got here when we did, Ed--that's a Category Five frown if I've ever seen one."

"You know there's only one cure for a Category Five frown--don't you, Em?"

"Yeah--you have to eat a twin sandwich!"

That's all the warning Amity gets before her siblings bookend her, raining a shower of affection down on their sister. The fun-loving noogies and gentle squeezes tug at the knot in her stomach, beginning to slowly unwind the ball of distressed twine. Amity lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she melts into the hug, but Edric's next words make her tense back up:

"So, want to tell us why you're cosplaying as yourself from 2020?"

"Honestly? No, not really." Amity shrinks in on herself then, steeling her nerves for a scolding or an inquisition. But to her pleasant surprise, neither one comes to pass:

"We're not going to force you to talk, or anything," Emira reassures her with a murmur. "But Willow and Gus are worried about you. They didn't want to push too hard and make you uncomfortable--"

"--so they asked us to be nosy instead! As nosy as you'll let us be, anyway." The wink that Edric throws his baby sis doesn't only make her giggle--it also loosens her tongue:

"Darn those two for being such good friends and caring so much." Amity inhales deeply before she goes on, summoning the confidence she needs to be honest. "Why didn't either of you tell me I've turned into a total ratworm?"

"Uh, because you haven't?" The expression that Edric sports is nothing short of perplexed, because his sister hasn't grown whiskers or sprouted a tail. "Unless you let Eda experiment on you while we were gone."

"Where is this coming from?" Emira asks when Amity shakes her head. "Did somebody say something to you? Viney saw Mom at the market the other day," the former continues, feeling the corners of her mouth turn down when the latter wraps her arms around herself. "Was it her?"

"Something like that." Before Amity can tighten her hold, the twins move closer, forming a makeshift shield with nothing but sympathetic limbs. The threat that slips through Edric's gritted teeth brings her just as much solace--maybe even more:

"Just wait 'til the next time I see her," he warns with narrowed eyes. "I'll hex her into a whole other world where she can't bother you ever again."

"Simmer down, Ed--I've already bailed you out of jail once this year. But seriously, Mittens," Emira goes on as her brother sticks out his tongue. "You can't listen to a word that woman says."

"Easy for you to say," Amity despairs as she deflates in her siblings' embrace. "You're not turning into her."

"My hair begs to differ." Edric runs a hand over his head as he speaks, carding his fingers through streaks of light green. They stand out against the darker shade he was born with, like the patches of gray lining Camila's brown locks. "But so what if we look like her? That doesn't mean we have to be like her."

"Yeah--we can be horrible in completely different ways." Emira gives her sister a conspiratorial nudge before sticking a "kick me" sign on Edric's back. "Amity," she continues when the playful gesture is met with silence. "How did you feel about the way you look before Mom brought it up?"

"...good." A sensation of shock creeps over Amity as the four letters slide off her tongue--she's been so focused on other people's feelings that she hasn't thought about her own. "I liked my hair because I chose the cut and the color. And my tattoo--it's nothing fancy, but it means something to me. And I didn't even notice my body changing because--"

"--you were busy living your life on your own terms?" Edric guesses as he lightly ruffles her ponytail. "And exploring the world outside the box you grew up in? And being happier than you ever were when Mom was around?"

"Mhmm." Amity's hum is quiet and contemplative, tickling the bones that house her soul as she comes to a realization. The version her mother considered perfect was, in truth, a pile of broken pieces, barely held together by stressed threads and miserable stitches. This woman beneath the illusion may be inkier, and broader, and stickier, but she's also fulfilled, and carefree, and whole. It's an irrefutable fact, one that Emira is quick to point out:

"I'm no oracle," she starts as she unfolds Amity's schedule. "But I don't need to read your mind to know that this isn't making you happy."

"Yeah," Edric nods as his eyes sadly scan the items she skipped. "I get wanting to blow us off, but avoiding your friends? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life hiding from them?"

"...no," Amity softly admits, but she doesn't take any steps to remove the rock hanging from her neck. At least, not until Emira metaphorically extends a helping hand:

"You have permission to be whoever you want, Amity. And you're allowed to love that person for who they are. Ed and I do, and we're not alone." She makes an encouraging wave towards Amity's scroll, where a series of sweet messages is waiting:

Mamá: Hola, mija.

Mamá: We missed you the other day.

WITCHCHICK128: I missed you all, too.

WITCHCHICK128: I'm sorry I wasn't there, I've just...had a lot going on.

Mamá: No te preocupes--I understand.

Mamá: My daughter is always bragging about the savvy businesswitch she's dating.

Mamá: But even girlbosses like you need breaks.

Mamá: Did I use that slang right--girlboss?

WITCHCHICK128: Yep--you're still the coolest mom in either world.

Mamá: Tell that to my other daughter--I can hear Vee laughing at me from softball practice!

Mamá: We found a new animal documentary on TV--would you like to watch it with us?

WITCHCHICK128: Does Eda love apple blood?

WITCHCHICK128: Of course I would--there's just one thing I want to do first.

At long last, Amity takes a gem in each hand, pulling and tugging until she can recognize her reflection again. She pauses for a moment when the facade fully falls away, savoring the relief coursing through her veins at the familiar sight. (And then she picks her siblings' pockets, because she could eat a slitherbeast, and the party blend has always been her favorite flavor of Hex Mix).

* * *

"I'm sorry," Camila sniffs as she dabs at her eyes with a finger. "These make me such a mess."

"You're not the only one." Amity's tearing up herself as she passes her mother a tissue. Even former ice queens like her aren't immune to cute penguin movies. Basilisks, by contrast, are a completely different story:

"Geez, and I thought Luz was emotional," Vee chuckles as she slithers off the couch. "Try not to flood the living room while I make some more popcorn."

"I swear, she gets that sarcasm from her brother." Camila's laughter is fond as her eyes land on a family picture--Hunter is front and center, making funny faces with Willow and Gus.

"Nah--that's probably my bad influence talking." An itch blooms on Amity's scalp as she speaks--she tries to scratch it discreetly, but nothing escapes her mom's attentive gaze:

"Is it time for a trim, mi brujita? I still have Manny's clippers upstairs--Luz used them after she cut her hair with the sword she got at that convention."

"I am overdue for a buzz," Amity admits as she traces the scruffy edge of her undercut. "I was going to do it last week, but I put it off because someone said something...kind of mean."

"Pobrecita," Camila murmurs as black-and-white birds waddle across the screen. "I know how that feels."

"Really?" Amity can't hide her surprise--and neither can Ghost, who plants himself between them like a shield from all things awful. "But you're the best--who would make fun of you?"

"Oh, cariño," Camila begins over the snaps of popping kernels. "If I had a nickel for every time someone called my natural curls unprofessional, I would've been able to buy you kids pizza every night."

"You threw your straightener away, though," Amity remembers as she scratches her palisman's head. "Why did you do that if people give you such a hard time?"

"At first, you kids kept me too busy to even think about firing up a flat iron. But the longer I went without doing it, the more I realized I didn't want to. Same with Luz, especially when she found out a certain witch likes playing with her waves."

"I wonder who that could be," Amity flushes as she rubs the back of her neck. "Whoever it is, she probably wishes she knew your secret--how do you not let that stuff get to you?"

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me," Camila starts over the sound of a phone's ringtone. "But no matter what I do, I won't be everybody's cup of tea--I'm not a hundred dollar bill. There are people who make me feel like I am, though, and one kind word from them means more than a thousand insults." Before Amity can return the sentiment, the universe proves her mother's point:

"It's Luz," Vee whispers as she keeps her scroll pressed to her chest. "I'm going to put her on speaker." Amity opens her mouth to say hello as Vee taps a tiny megaphone, but the greeting gets stuck in her throat when Camila raises a hand. There's a plan sparkling behind her eyes, and her future daughter-in-law trusts it implicitly.

"Buenos días, mijita. Long time, no talk."

"Sorry, Mamá--I'm using Jerbo's phone because mine got eaten by a griffin. But you have got to come visit the Humerus this weekend--we fixed it up so nice!" Luz's enthusiasm is like a sunbeam, shining on Amity from another dimension. The ray of light rattles her lingering insecurities as it crosses realms, beating the shadows that cling to her back with an unrelenting optimism. "I can't wait to show you the new school, and tell Vee about the exchange program, and plan my schedule with Amity--"

"Wow, I think that's a new record," Vee interjects with a teasing smile. "A whole sixty seconds passed before you mentioned your awesome girlfriend."

"If you were dating the best witch in the world, you'd rave about them all the time, too." Amity swallows her giggles as she pictures her girlfriend sticking her tongue out, but the laughter bubbling within her quickly melts into a swarm of butterflies:

"You sing that girl's praises like she hung the stars in the sky," Camila observes as she throws Amity a knowing look. "There really isn't a single thing you'd change about her?"

"Mom." Luz replies with a scandalized gasp, laying Amity's remaining fears to rest. "That would be like painting over the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel! Or rearranging the Titan's bones! Or giving the Good Witch Azura a new design! You can't improve perfection--why would you even want to try?"

"Ugh, no wonder the connection is bad--you're getting sap all over it. What's so great about her, anyway?" Vee already knows the answer to that question, but she's also aware of how much Amity needs to hear it.

"How much time do you have?" Luz doesn't wait for a response, seizing the chance to wax poetic about the moon to her sun: "For starters, she gives the best cuddles--I could fall asleep in her arms every night. And I love running my fingers through her hair--it's so fluffy and soft. Did I mention how creative she is? Her concept art for our couple's tattoo is beyond cool!"

As Luz praises the parts of her that Odalia would disparage, Amity feels the shattered pieces of her confidence move closer together. She knows she's the only one who can slot them back into place, but hearing a shower of compliments from her girlfriend is a welcome assist. Luz is rhapsodizing about Amity's brilliant mind when the latter hears a thud come from the basement. She wordlessly excuses herself to investigate the noise, and what she finds leaves her surprised:

"Hunter? Have you been here the whole time?"

"Longer than that," he groans as he rubs his toe where he stubbed it. "Who do you think fixed the DVD player after Gus busted it?"

"That explains why every disc has bite marks in it," Amity chuckles as Waffles alights on her shoulder. "But why are you holed up down here? There's plenty of room on the couch for you."

"If you must know, I needed to borrow Mom's sewing machine for something special. I'm not quite done yet, but I guess I can give you a sneak preview."

"Is that--"

"--the dress you tried on at the thrift store?" Hunter finishes as he holds it up. "Yeah, I just made a few alterations. Don't worry--the finishing touches will be done by the time Luz gets back."

"You didn't have to do that." Amity's voice is faint with a combination of astonishment and appreciation. The gown looks flowy, and elegant, and--most importantly--like it will fit. "This must have taken you ages."

"Nah--and even if it did, you're worth the effort. You are," Hunter insists when he sees a flicker of doubt cross her face. "When Darius took me in, he bought me a whole new wardrobe. My old coven robes were falling apart, but I told him not to waste his money because I wasn't done growing." His expression crinkles with gratitude as he glances down at his overalls--they're shiny and new, as yet untouched by wood shavings and sawdust. "Instead of listening to me, he said that every version of his son deserves to feel good about himself." It's then that he presses the dress into her grasp, filling her arms with reassurance wrapped in layers of tulle. "So does every version of you."

"Careful," Amity sniffles as she opens her heart to his words. "People might think you actually like me if you keep being this nice." Given their history, she expects a sarcastic response, but what she gets is this:

"I do actually like you, Amity." (Amity, not Blight). "All of you--just the way you are."

"Even my clapbacks?" Amity presses with a cheeky grin.

"How about instead of pushing your luck, you see if I need to trim the hem?" Hunter suggests with an exaggerated huff.

"You're no fun," Amity grumps as she twists her lips into a pout. "But the feeling is mutual, dweeb. Don't tell anyone I said that, though--I've got a reputation to maintain."

"You and I both," Hunter laughs as he holds out a hand. "I won't blab if you don't--deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

"Querida."

That's how Luz greets her girlfriend after not seeing her for two weeks--by calling her beloved, and darling, and wanted. Oh, and by picking her up and twirling her around in a hug. The whirlwind embrace takes Amity's breath away--even after all these years, Luz can still make her blush like a teenager.

"Crikey, sweet potato--you look beautiful." The patches of red on Amity's face turn maroon as Luz gives her a twirl, making her feel like a princess as the skirt of her gown billows around her.

"Speak for yourself, handsome." The former runs a finger along the lapels of the latter's tux, wearing a smitten grin as they get lost in each other's eyes. "I missed you," Amity whispers as the distance between them dwindles. "So much."

"I'm willing to bet ten snails that I missed you more." They share a contented hum when their lips finally meet over Luz's flirty line, making up for lost time with soft pecks and gentle nips. "Seriously, hermosa," Luz breathes when they reluctantly break apart. "You get prettier every time I see you."

"And you get even more charming," Amity purrs, sneaking one more smooch before she tugs Luz towards a picnic blanket. The shadow of the Grom tree envelops them as they sit, cuddling up in the cool shade over a closed wicker basket.

"Something smells heavenly," Luz smiles as a delectable scent slips through the slats. "Did you stop by the panadería on your way here?"

"Your mom's kitchen, actually," Amity replies as she opens the flaps. "I wanted your present to be personal--something that's just as special as you are."

"Are those my abuela's buñuelos?" Luz gasps when she sees the balls of fried dough.

"Mhmm," Amity beams as her girlfriend lights up from the inside out. "With an extra sprinkle of that cinnamon sugar you like so much."

"I don't think I can top that, but I'll try." The necklace Luz holds out is nothing short of gorgeous, hung with a silver crescent that seems to wink in the sun. She gestures excitedly for Amity to try it on, practically vibrating when the pendant glows with purple magic. The latter's vision flickers when the clasp shuts with a click, and suddenly, her view is filled with different versions of herself:

Amity's eyes sparkle extra bright as she bends over a notebook, glowing like fireflies when she combines glyphs to summon an abomination.

Her giggles sound like the tinkles of bells as Gus tells a rib-tickling joke, painting the air with melodious notes that form a soaring symphony.

And the scent that surrounds her when she comes home to Luz is ambrosial, colored with hints of fresh ink and traces of cherry blossoms.

"Batata." The term of endearment is dripping with disbelief, because these are Amity's memories, but she's taking them in from a whole new perspective. "What is this?"

"Celine was on my team for the Castle Restoration Project," Luz begins with a mushy grin. "I asked her if I could use oracle magic to show you the way I see you, and she said yes."

"This is how you see me?" Amity breathlessly asks as her eyes mist over and her throat grows tight.

"Sure is." Luz scoots impossibly closer then, tenderly wrapping an arm around her girlfriend's waist. Their bodies slot together like a key in a lock, the ease with which they fit remaining unchanged by time. "You bewitch me just as much as you did the day you saved me from that Abomaton."

"Even though I don't look the same?" Amity quietly questions as she glances down at herself.

"No matter how you look," Luz confirms with a warm snuggle. Her gift backs her up, showing Amity an image of a cotton-candy-haired goddess. "It's been amazing--watching you figure out what you like, and who you are, and what makes you happy. That's what matters to me--that you're happy."

"I am--mostly," Amity tacks on as she gazes at her inheritance from Odalia. "There are some things I'm still...getting used to."

"I hear you there," Luz chuckles as she scratches the scar that splits her brow. "Some days, I think this thing is an eyesore. Other days, I don't know how to feel about the height my dad passed down to me. I'm not sure how long it'll take to make peace with these new parts of myself, but I don't have to do it alone." Luz punctuates her sentence with a squeeze of Amity's hand and a bite of a doughnut-like fritter. She hums when crystals of sweetness hit her tongue--her girlfriend has truly outdone herself. "And neither do you. It's like our future tattoo says." With those words, Amity draws half a spell circle on each of their arms, beaming at the message that appears when the two pieces meet:

I promise to love and protect you just as you are, through supernovas and solar winds.

Chapter Text

It's easy to tell when one of the Calamity Trio is missing Amphibia:

Sasha feeds her nostalgia with a beer and a war movie, pointing out things Grime would find inaccurate between sips of ale.

Marcy plants her yearning in a box on the windowsill, growing an apartment garden that would make Lady Olivia proud.

And Anne...

Well.

marcy: just got home from my C&C session.

marcy: the kitchen smells like baked crickets again.

sasha: oh, no.

sasha: she was having such a good week, too.

sasha: i'll pick up some boba on my way home.

sasha: can you hold down the fort until i get back?

marcy: roger that, captain!

marcy: operation reassur-anne-ce is officially a go!

"Hey." Marcy's greeting gets lost in her girlfriend's curls, joining leaves and sticks as she hugs Anne from behind. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

"Sorry." Anne's apology comes out in a sniffle, one that reaches into Marcy's chest and gives her heart a painful squeeze. "I know it's weird, and getting the stench out takes forever, but--"

"--baking these cookies makes you feel closer to your family? Your home?" Marcy's stomach drops when Anne nods, wincing as her gut twists with each teardrop that hits her fingers. "Oh, Annie," she breathes as she draws her partner impossibly closer. "I'm sorry--if I hadn't gotten us stranded, you wouldn't be hurting like this."

"Marcy, no." Anne wipes her eyes before she turns around, latching onto her girlfriend like she's a life preserver. "I wouldn't trade my time in Wartwood for anything. I just wish..."

"...there was more of it?" The dam breaks when Marcy finishes her partner's sentence. Anne collapses in her hold like a ragdoll, letting out a sob that sounds like she's been bottling it up all day.

"I know I should just be happy that it happened," she begins with a wet hiccup. "But it's not fair. I saved that world, and everyone in it, and you're telling me I can't even visit? I'm not looking to relive my childhood or go on more adventures," Anne thickly continues as Marcy rubs her back. "All I want is one more dinner with my grandpa. And one more hug from my brother. And one more solo adventure with my sister. Is that really too much to ask?"

"Of course not." Sasha gets home just in time to answer Anne's question, ditching the three drinks in her hands so she can join the embrace. "You're allowed to want those things, Annie. And you're allowed to be mad or sad that you don't have them."

"Is there anything we can do?" Marcy asks as Anne shudders into her shoulder.

"There's so much I want to tell them," Anne murmurs as Sasha links their fingers. "And so much I want to know. That's what I miss the most--not traveling to faraway places or running off bloodthirsty monsters, but being a part of their lives."

"This reminds me of one of my clients," Sasha starts as she draws circles on Anne's skin with her thumb. "His grandma died a few weeks ago. He used to tell her everything, and he didn't know how to deal with losing that. I thought it might help if he wrote down what he wanted to say to her, and it did. I don't know if it would do the same for you, but--"

"--it wouldn't hurt to try." Watery though it may be, Anne's wearing a smile as she straightens up. Marcy sports a matching grin, one that twinkles when she jumps at the chance to assist:

"You can use some of the fancy paper I bought from the art supply store. And the expensive pens I got for my birthday. Oh, a fan of my webcomic gave me a cardboard mailbox at a con--I use it to store good reviews I print out, but you can totally borrow it!"

"Thanks, Mar-Mar." Now, Anne silently adds as she chews on an antenna, I just have to decide what to write.

* * *

Hey, HP.

How's it hanging, Gramps?

Long time, no talk, Hip-Pop.

Anne groans over the sound of another line being scratched out. Talking to Hop Pop used to be easier than hitting a serve, but now, she doesn't know where to begin. Time and distance stand between them like twin caverns, separating their wistful hearts with rivers of awkwardness. Anne's not sure how she's going to bridge the massive gap...until she hits a twig while she's twirling her hair, that is. It's crooked and curved, like the cane she lied about breaking. As she turns the stick over in her hands, feeling each dip and groove in the wood, Anne realizes that her grandfather is closer than she thought:

She can sense him in the smell of the avocado toast Sasha's making for breakfast.

She can hear him in the commercial for elbow cream that's airing on TV.

And she can recognize him in the shades of orange Marcy's been using in her wall art.

All of a sudden, the pen in Anne's hand is less heavy, guided by fondness as it colors the blank space on the page:

Dear Hop Pop,

Well, it finally happened--I grew up and stopped getting in trouble.

(Okay, only one of those things is true--I am dating Sasha and Marcy, after all).

But I got an apartment! And a new bike! And a job I haven't faked sick to get out of!

(Yet, anyway--my girls swear they're going to convince me to play hooky one of these days).

I don't think I'll ever want to, though, because I love what I do.

It's not playing pro tennis or working at Thai Go--it's studying frogs, like you.

Maybe I'll come up with a cure for your back pain one of these days.

But for now, I'm making a splash at our local aquarium.

(Get it? Making a splash? That's a little herpetology humor for you).

I know our trip to the one in Newtopia was...less than ideal, but I hope I get to show you mine someday.

It's got a little replica of the Plantar Farm, so I never forget what it looks like.

I even built the shed that Bessie and Microangelo sleep in.

I hope they're doing okay. And that you're doing okay. And Sprig, and Polly, and Maddie, and Ivy, and Mrs. Croaker, and--well, you get the idea.

Hey, if this ever makes its way to Amphibia, do you think you could send me a sign? Just something that would show me that everyone's all right.

If I can't see you guys again, I'll settle for knowing you're safe.

But until then, I'll keep sharing your world with the people who come to the museum.

That's...actually why I broke down a few days ago.

This older man came in with his grandkids, and while I printed his tickets, he was telling me how fun they are, and how they keep him young, and how much he loves--

Shoot, now I'm getting Marcy's nice cardstock all wet.

I can't help it, though--he sounded so proud of them.

I wonder if you'd be proud of the person I am now.

I wish I knew.

I love you.

Always Your Granddaughter,

Anne

P.S. Remember how you said I could stop by if I needed a home-cooked meal or a room?

Well, the same goes for you.

If you're ever in LA, we've got a pullout couch and more bugs than you could dream of eating.

Anne still has so much to say, but she sets Marcy's pen down instead, scrubbing the salty tracks on her cheeks away with the back of her hand. She can feel the sadness bleeding out of her soul as she seals the envelope, taking comfort in the fact that she's no longer holding the words inside it alone. A smile splits her face as she raises the mailbox's flag, even though she knows her letter will never reach its destination.

* * *

Or will it?

The next morning, Anne wakes up to find that her heartfelt missive has disappeared. Her first suspect is Domino III, but a check of the cat's bed reveals that his paws are clean. As she fires up the coffee maker in the morning light, Anne turns her suspicions to her girlfriends:

On the one hand, she thinks over the hisses and pops of boiling water, Sasha is always stealing my stuff. I don't think I'll ever see my letterman jacket again. Or my favorite yellow sweatshirt. On the other hand, she muses as an earthy aroma tickles her nose, Marcy's never been opposed to an impromptu scavenger hunt. It took me and Sasha weeks to find where she hid our Elf on the Shelf. Anne hums thoughtfully in between sips of her drink, greasing the gears in her mind with sweet caffeine--

CRASH!

--until Marcy's pet bird distracts her from the mystery entirely.

"Oh, Joe Sparrow, Jr.," she laughs, shaking her head as she moves to clean up the remains of the vase he flew into. "What are we going to do with you?" Joe's only responses are strings of cheeky chirps, ones that make the seconds tick by a bit faster as she works. Anne's back is turned just long enough for the request in her letter to be granted--when she faces the mailbox again, she finds that it's no longer empty:

This looks like one of Hop Pop's pain peppers. It's hard to tell, though, because it's covered in stamps. Each one is emblazoned with a small letter, and together, they spell out four words:

P-R-O-U-D

O-F

Y-O-U

A-L-W-A-Y-S

It's got to be Sasha, Anne thinks as her chest swells with affection. I remember when one of her stepbrothers mailed her a grapefruit as a joke. She's been waiting for a chance to do it to someone else ever since. And Anne's glad she did--the affirmation may not be from her grandpa, but it was given to her by another person she loves, and for now, that's enough. As she bites into it, though, she wonders how Sasha made the chili taste like it did back home.

* * *

marcy: anne, you'll never guess who i ran into at your parents' restaurant.

sasha: was it vince?

sasha: he still owes me for playing guitar at his last gig.

marcy: good guess, but the correct answer is ally and jess!

marcy: they found this when they were cleaning out their lab.

marcy: yellow_hair_bow.jpg

anne: is that…polly's?

marcy: they think so--it was with frobo's schematics.

marcy: do you want me to bring it home?

anne: um.

sasha: you don't have to say yes, annie.

marcy: yeah--i can hang onto it if you aren't ready.

anne: no, bring it home.

anne: i actually think it'll help.

And it does. Polly must've stored her confidence in her hair ribbon, because when Anne swaps it for her leaf scrunchie, she feels bolder. More powerful. Stronger. Strong enough, in fact, to start another letter:

Dear Polly,

Hi. It's Anne.

You know--giant head, fiddly limbs, face bump.

I'm not sure if you remember me--you were so young when I crash-landed in Amphibia.

You didn't even have your legs yet--I can picture when you got them like it was yesterday.

I wish I could see what you were up to now.

Maybe you've conquered the whole continent--or discovered a brand-new one.

Nah, you're probably inventing things we won't see on Earth for decades.

Like a permanent portal between dimensions--a girl can dream.

Whatever you're doing, I'm sure you're crushing it--and using your mace to crush your enemies.

My mom keeps saying she needs one to chase the raccoons away from our dumpster.

She'll never admit it, but I can tell she wishes you guys were still here.

My dad, too--I've caught them setting the table for six a few times.

And leaving space for you on the couch when they're watching rom-coms.

I wonder if you retained any Thai words--you soaked them up like a sponge when you lived with us.

I've actually started going to the temple to brush up because of you.

If we ever see each other again, we can have a whole conversation--it'll be like our secret language!

We can use it to plan another girls' day.

I promise we'll do what you want this time--you can organize the whole thing.

Well, maybe not the whole thing--a Team P-Anne with no rules could be dangerous.

You can't take over the world unless it's still standing, after all.

Just don't forget me when you ascend to power, okay?

Forever Your Older Sister,

Anne

As she folds the note into fours, she tries to taper her expectations, but not getting her hopes up turns out to be a herculean task. Sasha was just being nice last time, Anne tells herself as anticipation builds in her veins. It's probably not going to happen again.

* * *

But it does.

When Anne gets home from the midnight screening of Love Choice 3, the flag on the mailbox is no longer raised. She doesn't walk over to it--she runs, nearly tripping over herself as she rushes to see what's inside. The sack that's replaced Anne's message looks like one of Maddie's curse bags, and what she finds under the burlap and twine draws forth a gasp:

No way, she grins as she pinches the miniature flail between her fingers. It's even got butterflies engraved on the handle! I don't remember telling Marcy about the pin I got my mom, Anne thinks as she traces the glossy wings. But this has to be her handiwork--she's always making stuff like this for her campaigns. She's so busy admiring the gift that she almost misses the card that came with it:

Dear One-Shoed Anne,

ฉันไม่สามารถลืมคุณได้ถ้าฉันพยายาม

Your Biggest F-Anne,

Triple P

I've got to hand it to Mar-Mar, Anne grins as her heart swells with sentimentality. She even dotted her i's with skulls like Polly does! Wait, did I mention that to Marcy? I must have--how else would I be seeing this?

* * *

marcy: GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS.

marcy: look what i found at the comic book store when i went to buy more dice.

marcy: frog-man_issue_one.jpg

sasha: squeaky toy got a graphic novel before us?

sasha: no fair!

marcy: would you like a margarita to go with all that salt? 😂

sasha: it's warranted--that kid was a menace!

anne: in his defense, so were you 😉

sasha: ANNE SAVISA BOONCHUY, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

anne: i would if it wasn't true 🤪

sasha: WHY YOU--

marcy: o-kay, ladies--time to simmer down before this turns into a swordfight.

marcy: again--our bedroom still hasn't recovered from last time.

anne: if you bring home that comic, i promise we'll behave.

sasha: we'll even throw in some extra kisses 😘

marcy: DONE.

marcy: I'LL BE THERE IN TWO SHAKES OF A NEWT'S TAIL.

Anne keeps her end of the bargain, covering Marcy in smooches before she cracks the book. Her brother looks just like she remembers him--brave, and sweet, and curious. The more pages Anne turns, the stronger the urge to start another letter becomes. Eventually, the impulse grows too great to ignore:

Dear Sprig,

How the heck are you, dude?

I can't believe it's been ten years--you're probably taller than me now.

Do you still play the fiddle?

Are you and Ivy engaged yet?

Have you taken any cool pictures with my phone?

Sorry about all the questions, I've just...missed so much.

I've missed you so much.

I'd be rich if I had a nickel for every time I've imagined watching Suspicion Island with you.

Or seeing who can eat the most noodles at the grocery store food court.

Or going on rollercoasters until one of us pukes.

You were--no, are--the little brother I never knew I needed, and even though I haven't seen you in a while, you're still here with me.

Like this week--one of my co-workers tried to blame me for something she botched, but I confronted her the way you stood up to Sasha.

And last Christmas--I was obsessing over buying my girlfriends the perfect gift, but I made them something like you did for me, and they loved it.

And tomorrow morning--I'm helping our rehab team treat some injured frogs, because I used to think they were gross, but you've shown me they're the best.

You haven't just changed my life--you keep changing it, and at this rate, I don't think you're ever going to stop.

Hopefully I'm doing the same for you.

I know I wasn't the greatest influence when we first met, but I got better!

If only I could go back with what I know now--I'd talk you into eating your vegetables instead of sneaking off to the lake.

Actually, no, I wouldn't, because we got some great memories out of those bad decisions, didn't we?

They make for awesome stories, at least--Sasha and Marcy ask to hear one every other day.

I know you had your suspicions about them, but they've made me the happiest girl in any dimension.

So happy, in fact, that I'm thinking about proposing.

Don't tell anybody yet, though--I'm still saving up for the rings.

(Okay, and it's possible I'm holding out hope that you'll be my best man).

(After all these years, I haven't found anyone who would be better for the job).

What do you say--Spranne against the world dance floor?

I'll do both sides of our handshake for now.

Who knows--maybe soon, it won't be a solo act.

Your Permanent Partner in Crime,

Anne

She only cries a little bit when she posts the message. Really, Anne's not leaking bittersweet tears like a sieve. When they first hit her tongue, they taste like honey, full of the comfort that comes with giving her longing a voice. But soon enough, the flavor sours, curdling with the inescapable ache for her cries to be answered.

* * *

This time, though, Anne's calls aren't returned. Now, when she opens the mailbox, all that awaits her is stale air. She supposes it was foolish to expect her girlfriends to indulge her forever, but the disappointment still stings, drawing a dismayed sigh from inside her chest.

"Uh oh." Sasha's quick to pick up on the gloomy sound, abandoning her Instagram to tend to her partner. "We've got a leak over here, Marbles. Can you come help me patch it up?"

"Aye aye, commander!" Before long, Anne's melancholy feels less overwhelming, ebbing away with each kiss that peppers her lips. "Better, Anna Banana?"

"Yeah. Sorry," she apologizes in between more pecks. "I guess I got too used to you guys playing along with me."

"What do you mean?" Sasha genuinely sounds bewildered as she pulls back, and she's not the only one who's confused:

"We promised not to pretend with each other anymore, remember?" Marcy's furrowed brows and curious gaze welcome her girlfriend to explain, and Anne accepts the invitation with a question of her own:

"You mean you haven't been replacing my letters with vegetables and weapons?"

"I--no? Is that a thing that's been happening? Marcy," Sasha begins after Anne nods, "do you know anything about--"

"Uh-uh," Marcy denies with a shake of her head. "I haven't touched the mailbox since I gave it to you, Annie."

"Then how--"

DING!

terri: hey anne, are you free?

terri: i've been working on something with x that i really think you ought to see.

* * *

"Anne?"

"Yeah, Mars Bar?"

"I don't think we're in Los Angeles anymore."

"Holy toad." Sasha's the last one to step through the new portal, whistling as the swampy air caresses her smiling face. "It looks the same."

"Almost," Marcy says as her eyes land on a purple amphibian in the distance. "I don't remember seeing newts this close to Wartwood before."

"Maybe things have changed," Anne murmurs, reveling in the feeling of familiar grass beneath her feet. Well, foot--one of her shoes didn't make the trip, and she couldn't be happier about it.

"Only one way to find out. Race you to the town gates! You coming, Marce?" Sasha pauses when she sees her partner hesitate, stopped in her tracks by the conflicted look on her girlfriend's face.

"Actually, I think I'll hang out here. I'm sure you guys have people waiting for you, and I wouldn't want to interrupt any reunions." Sasha and Anne share a sad look then, because they know what Marcy really means--I don't think there's anybody waiting for me. But it's not long before she's proven wrong:

"Whoa." The newt is in front of them now, staring up at Marcy with eyes the size of dinner plates. "You look like the humans in my moms' stories."

"We probably are the humans in your moms' stories," Sasha giggles as Anne bends down to the salamander's level:

"I don't remember seeing you the last time we were here--what's your name?"

"I'm Marcy!" The answer takes the entire trio aback, slackening their jaws as the child goes on: "My moms picked it because it reminds them of someone they knew. She did so much for Newtopia--there's even a statue of her in the city! Actually, one of you looks...kind of...like her..." As she trails off, a lightbulb ignites above the newt's head, bathing the planes of her face in a glow of understanding. "Oh my frog--there's no way. Hey, Moms? Moms! Come here, you have to see this!"

"What is it, darling?" Lady Olivia's posh accent precedes her, floating through the trees as she emerges from the forest.

"Yeah, squirt--where's...the...fire..." General Yunan's brash tone grows quiet when she sees the reason for her daughter's calls. A stunned beat passes in silence as she and her wife take in the sight, like a ghost from their past has materialized in the middle of this clearing.

"Oh! Um. Hi," Marcy Wu greets them with an awkward wave. "You two probably don't remember me, but--" The rest of her sentence is swallowed by a tangle of limbs and tails as she's tackled to the ground. Marcy's quickly dispelled of the notion that no one missed her, melting under strings of affectionate words she never expected to hear:

"How could we ever forget our Master Marcy?" Olivia asks with misty eyes.

"Yeah, kid," Yunan says around the lump in her throat. "You showed us what was important."

"Why don't we give them a few minutes?" Anne suggests, taking Sasha's hand before she starts down a well-worn path. "I wonder if we'll find any grizzled old toads out here," she muses as they stroll.

"Frog, I hope so." That's what Sasha says at first, but a shadow of doubt flickers across her face soon after. "Actually, maybe it's better if we don't run into each other--he probably...doesn't have the best memories of me." There's a pang in Anne's chest when she sees her partner guiltily rubbing her left arm. She's reaching out with a comforting hand when a surprised squeak stops her in her tracks:

"Percy? Is that you?" The amphibian up the road lets out another stunned noise at Sasha's question. Before she can offer an overdue apology, he turns around and runs, jingling the bells on his hat as he jogs away.

"I'm sorry, Sash," Anne murmurs as he disappears into the horizon, but her girlfriend waves her words away.

"It's okay," she insists in a tone that indicates it's anything but. "After the way I treated them, I deserve--"

"See? I told you she was here!" Percy's returned, and this time, he's not alone--two other toads bookend him, each wearing a shell-shocked expression. Grime steps forward before Braddock, blinking his good eye like he doesn't believe what he's seeing.

"It can't be." His voice is thick with disbelief, cracking emotionally as he makes his way over. "Tell me something only my lieutenant would know."

"I slipped up and called you 'Dad' once," Sasha answers without missing a beat. "You didn't correct me."

"It is you." When his former soldier passes the test, Grime doesn't hesitate to close the space between them. Amphibia's toughest warriors melt into a puddle of tears, clutching at each other like long-lost relatives. "I missed you so much," Grime hiccups as the Sasha doll on his belt swings to and fro.

"Not as much as I missed you," she cries as the eye tattooed on her shoulder seems to wink. "All of you," she adds with a glance at Percy and Braddock. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you when you said you wanted to bail. Getting the Warhammer wasn't worth losing your friendship, I never should've--"

"Hi." Sasha's vision is suddenly filled with blonde hair and kind eyes, and the next words she hears go straight to her heart: "My name is Braddock. And you are...?" Anne's face creases with gratitude when she realizes what's going on. Percy and Braddock remember her partner--and how she hurt them--but here they are, giving her a chance to start over nonetheless. Anne's girlfriend seizes the opportunity with a tone that's as watery as it is appreciative:

"I'm Sasha," she reintroduces herself with a weepy smile. "Sasha Waybright. It's nice to meet you."

I'll catch up with you later, Anne mouths to her partner, blowing the blonde a kiss before she continues on the trail. Each step pumps anticipation through her veins, filling her with an excitement that can't be contained. It builds and builds until she breaks into a run, desperately tearing through the trees that separate her from her family. As she sprints over Wartwood's border, Anne's welcomed home by a series of hushed whispers:

"Is that...her?"

"She sure looks like that statue Loggle put up."

"Nah, this one's taller--looks older, too."

"Sprig would know--where's Sprig?"

"In his usual spot."

Anne finds the closed door of a cottage at the end of a pointing finger. She doesn't pause to knock before flinging it wide open and sprinting down the basement stairs. She can't, not when she's waited so long to hear the voices below:

"Sprig, can you hand me that lug wrench? Sprig? Spriiiiig. Hey, Amphibia to Frownzilla--do you want me to finish this portal or not?"

"Here you go, sweetheart. What are you doing over there, boy? You're not still writing your letter to Anne, are you?"

"How could I not be, Hop Pop? I have ten years worth of stuff to catch her up on! What if this is the only time I get to talk to her again? It needs to be perfect."

"Relax, Bro Bro. If Anne was here, she'd tell you it doesn't matter what you say or how you say it. She'd just be happy to hear from you at all."

"You're right--I would say all that." Anne can't stay hidden any longer, blowing her own cover at the behest of her homesick soul. Her choked up confirmation turns three heads towards her, allowing six disbelieving eyes to meet her damp ones.

"Did I pass away when I took a nap in that corner?" Hop Pop asks as he reaches for his glasses. "Or am I actually seeing this?"

"No way," Polly breathes when she sees her old hair bow. "I thought for sure I'd find a way to Earth before she made it back here."

Sprig doesn't speak. Instead, he steps forward, extending a silent invitation by raising his hand. Anne wordlessly takes it, slotting their fingers together like she did a decade ago. They only make it halfway through their handshake before melting into a pile of mush:

"I never forgot you," Sprig sniffs into the crook of her neck. "Not even for a second."

"I didn't forget you either," Anne blubbers as she ruffles his hair. "Nothing ever changed how much you mean to me."

"Move over, Twig," Polly grunts as she muscles her way into the hug. "I need to show my moral compass the amazing frog I've grown into!"

"You sure grew," Anne laughs as she's tackled again. "Look at these overalls! And those tools! And all this hair!"

"It's where I keep my plans for world domination," Polly giggles as she makes room for one more:

"We kept your room just how you left it," Hop Pop says as he drops a kiss on Anne's forehead. "We also still make pizza--for special occasions. I'd say this qualifies--you take yours with extra pineapple, right?"

"You know what, Hop Pop?" Anne chuckles as he throws her a teasing wink. "For you, I'll give it a try."

"We have so much to show you," Sprig wipes his eyes as Polly tugs their sister up the stairs. "I managed to get a picture of the Moss Man. And Poll is building Frobo a brother. And HP added a bunch of your parents' recipes to the family cookbook. And--"

"Slow down, son," Hop Pop laughs, beaming when he gets to set the table for four again. "Give her a chance to breathe that sweet Plantar Farm air." Anne smiles as she does just that, inhaling a homey scent that's colored with notes of musk, motor oil, and...something else:

"Did you get a cat while I was gone? It kind of smells like Domino in here."

"The mail kitten must be nearby," Hop Pop remarks as Sprig and Polly bookend Anne. "That little critter's the one who's been delivering your letters to us--and taking our packages to you. Looks just like the kitty you've got at home, too."

"You don't say." It's then that Anne's vision picks up a blur of fur. As her grandfather fires up the oven, a pair of golden eyes peeks over the windowsill. They shine with playful mischief as a small paw appears, pushing a tiny bag towards Anne with a soft purr. While her siblings rummage around for the family album, she pulls a teeny music box from the pouch. If that wasn't enough to make her well up, there's a note, too:

It took a while to recreate the original, but I'm pretty sure even Valeriana would approve ;)

See you in sixty-eight years!

Sincerely,

💎💎💎🐾

I'll always have a way home, Anne weepily realizes as three gems glitter beneath her fingers. Even if Teri's portal breaks, or Polly never finishes hers, we'll never be separated again. It's a good thing, too, because this new volume of family history is huge:

"Here it is! You've been with us this whole time, too," Sprig says in a quieter tone as he opens the tome. "Every tadpole that's hatched since you left has grown up on stories of the Monster from the Woods."

"And her amazing sidekicks," Polly adds with a glance at a photo of the four of them. "The pink pollywog is definitely everyone's favorite character."

"As you can see, some things haven't changed around here." Hop Pop's chuckles are as warm as the flames, draping Anne with a fuzzy blanket of laughter. "Your sister is as humble as ever, and you're still a magnet for leaves."

"Branches, too," Sprig fondly tacks on as he carefully plucks one from her curls.

"It also looks like you lost a shoe," Polly points out as she nudges Anne's right leg with her left one. "Again."

"If you want to go look for it, we've got some time before the pie's ready," Hop Pop offers, but his adopted granddaughter shakes her head.

"Nah," Anne smiles as the decade-old hole in her heart mends itself. "I don't think we need to. After all, of the things you lose, you'd be surprised what makes its way back to you."

Chapter Text

"Huh? But I thought I was doing the right thing."

Is that the Collector? But he sounds so young--at this point, his voice is even deeper than King's. Luz blinks to make sure she's not hearing things, only to find that she isn't. The child looks just as young as he did the day she died--and just as scared.

"No, no, you did good, Collector. But this is a little more complicated. Don't worry, I think it...missed...me." The words come out of Luz's mouth under a power that's not her own. Is this what her friends went through when they were turned into puppets? The eerie sensation of feeling yourself speak, but not actually doing it?

"Luz? What's happening?" That experience, though, is nothing compared to what comes next. A whimper escapes her as a hungry fungus claims her clothes and skin. The mold burns as it devours her, mixing with tears as she struggles to say a final goodbye:

"Eda, King--" That's all Luz gets out before the rot consumes her, stripping layers away until there's nothing left but light.

No, she desperately thinks as the world grows fuzzy around her. I haven't hugged my mom enough. Or spent enough time with my sister. Fear grips what little is left of Luz's heart, squeezing the remaining life out of her fading soul. Please, I have to hang out with my friends one more time. And take Amity on a real date. And--

HISSSSS!

It's Stringbean who swoops in to save Luz from her bad dream. The palisman fixes her with a concerned gaze as she bolts awake, cautiously snuggling up to one of her trembling hands. Luz's heart stutters at the contact, pounding in her ears as she attempts to catch her breath.

Are you okay? Stringbean asks with a worried rattle, frowning when the response she gets is a shaky inhale. I'll get your mom and Vee. They should still be watching that animal documentary--

"No! Don't," Luz gasps when her snake begins to slither away. "I never told them about...what happened when I was fighting Belos. And I'm not going to--I've put them through enough, and besides...I don't know if they'd understand."

I bet Eda and King would. Stringbean doesn't give in, flicking her eyes to the portal outside. You shouldn't keep this stuff bottled up.

"You're right," Luz nods, even as a small voice in the back of her mind questions whether she deserves such kindness. "I have to drop off some human junk for Eda, anyway. Tell me if the coast is clear, okay?"

Luz's stomach doesn't settle when Stringbean gives her a salute with her tail. Or when she manages to sneak into the backyard without being detected. Or when she follows her palisman into another dimension. No, her gut only stops roiling with unrest when she spots a familiar house, one whose lights are still on even at this late hour.

"Luz!" Hooty's voice, loud and boisterous though it may be, is like a balm to her emotional scars. "It's been so long since I've seen you!"

"I was here two days ago, Hooty," Luz laughs as he wraps her in a hug. "But I'm glad to be back, too. Are Eda and King--"

"Eda! King! We have a gueeeeest!" The bird tube wastes no time in scooping Luz up, gently depositing her on the couch as two voices float into the living room:

"It'd better not be another door-to-door salesghoul," Eda grumbles as she rubs her eyes.

"Or one of those ex-coven scouts," King groans in between adorable yawns.

"How would you feel about a human?" Luz isn't answered by words--instead, she's tackled on both sides, cocooned in detachable and furry limbs alike. The embrace seems to stretch into her chest, loosening the knot of terror that's tied around her heart. "I come bearing gifts," she continues, sticking a hand out of the nest of affection to gesture at the bag on the ground.

"Aw, kid, this could've waited," Eda drowsily points out as she cards her fingers through Luz's hair.

"Yeah, you look exhausted," King observes as he paws at the bags under her eyes.

"Sorry," Luz apologizes into Eda's shoulder. "Had a nightmare. I know it's silly, but--"

"I'll go get Francois." Rather than agree with her, King jumps at the chance to offer some comfort. "He gives the best cuddles."

"Want to talk about it?" Eda asks as her son scampers off. "I'd be happy to lend you an ear." She disconnects one of her own from her head then, holding it out to Luz in an effort to lighten the mood. It works--the former's antics earn her a stream of giggles that's loud and strong. Unfortunately, it's also short-lived, only lasting until King scurries back down the stairs.

"I dreamed that Belos hit me with that blue fire again," Luz starts after she sobers up. "Only this time, I...I didn't come back. I didn't get to thank you two for everything," she wells up as a plush is pressed into her hands. "Or redeem myself for helping Philip. Or...or anything! I was just gone, and it hurt so much, and--"

"Luz, breathe." King's the one who stops her from spiraling, gently taking her face between his claws. "I know that probably felt super real--and really scary--but you did come back. You're here--you're safe--and we'll make sure it stays that way."

"I don't know when your brother got so wise, but he's right," Eda murmurs, using a hand to rub soothing circles on Luz's back. "Anyone who wants to hurt you now can say hello to my right hook. Literally," she goes on with a nod at her new hardware.

"Thanks, guys," Luz smiles, throwing Hooty a grateful look when he deposits a cup of tea in front of her. "It's just...hard not to feel guilty about everything that happened sometimes."

"Want me to send King into your mind so he can tell your conscience to can it?" Eda's halfway through drawing a spell circle when her son waves it away.

"Or we can give your inner voice something else to focus on. Check this out." As King sketches the beginnings of a new glyph, Luz does her best to swat at the anxious wasps buzzing in her stomach. Surely they'll go away if she ignores them enough--right?

* * *

Wrong.

"Luz, you've barely touched your griffin eggs--are you okay? Has my daughter's cooking finally reached the level of inedible?"

"No, Mrs. Clawthorne--"

"Please, no need to be so formal, dear."

"All right--no, grandma," Luz amends under Gwendolyn's concerned gaze. "I just...didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Eda actually makes a pretty mean omelet."

"Literally," King says as he pokes his with a fork. "Mine grew fangs and almost bit me before she added cheese."

"Reminds me of family breakfasts when we were kids," Lilith smiles in between sips of coffee. "I nearly lost a finger to her infamous boo-berry pancakes."

"I'll take homicidal food over those dangerous adventures she went on," Dell chuckles as he ruffles Eda's hair. "You scared us half to death with that stunt you pulled on the Day of Unity!"

"Stunt? That's a weird way to say heroic sacrifice." Luz wants to giggle along with Eda, but the wave of nausea that washes over her won't allow it. The queasiness is quickly followed by a series of racing, anxious thoughts, each one more painful and troubling than the last:

Is this what I put Mom through when she found out where I was last summer?

Imagine if the Titan hadn't brought me back--I would've been forced to leave her too soon, just like Dad.

She wouldn't have known how much I love her, or how grateful I am for everything she's done, or--

"Luz?" It’s Raine who calls out to her this time, calming a swirling hurricane of what-ifs with one word. "We lost you again. How about a nap in the nest? I've never had a bad rest in there--especially after we fitted it with those quilts from Hunter and Darius."

"That's a good idea," Luz drowses as she drags herself out of her chair. "Don't tell any embarrassing stories about Eda without me, okay? I want to hear as many as possible before she and King leave for Latissa."

"Hey! Way to add insult to injury, kid--it's bad enough we'll be in the mountains with no scroll service for a week." Eda's grumbles are good-natured as the rest of the group bids Luz sweet dreams. And those are what she has--to start, at least. As she settles into a cocoon of fuzzy blankets, a familiar fantasy plays out on the insides of her eyelids:

"Azura!" Hecate cries out as she dangles from a cliff. "Don't let go!"

"Never," the Good Witch swears as she hangs on tight, gritting her teeth as her knuckles turn white.

Luz hums contentedly as the scene unfolds, taking comfort in the fact that she knows what happens next. Azura summons the last of her strength with the power of love, lifting Hecate to safety in the nick of time. They cap the rescue off with a kiss, one that's passionate enough to make anyone blush.

Except that isn't what happens this time--not even close. Instead, Luz finds herself hovering above her mother, reaching out to Camila with holographic hands. This scenario is one she knows all too well, but before she can open her mouth, her mom goes off script:

"Cariño," Camila begins as their fingers try and fail to meet. "Why didn't you keep your promise?"

"Mamá," Luz starts as she strains to bridge the space between them. "You changed your mind, remember? Some weeks, you're in the Demon Realm more than me--my whole grade at Hexside calls you mom now!"

"You're supposed to be here." The corners of Camila's eyes are wet with tears, shimmering with a sadness her body can't contain. "How am I supposed to do this without you?"

"Hey, we're a team, remember? Don't mess with Equipo Noceda!" Luz hopes the quip is sharp enough to cut through the unsettling tension. Unfortunately for her, the unease remains thick in the air:

"You said that no matter what happened, we'd always have each other." Luz's heart plummets into her stomach when she realizes what her mother means. The oath she allegedly broke isn't the one she swore months ago--it's the pledge she took after her dad passed away. "But even your friends don't have any magic that can bring you back!"

"Bring me back? What--" Time seems to slow down as Luz takes a second look at her hands. They aren't bathed in the yellow glow of headlights like before. Now, they're nearly translucent, almost like she's a...a...

...a ghost, Luz's inner voice finishes with a chilling air of finality. The horrifying epiphany makes her head spin, knocking her world off its axis as Camila sobs:

"Please, mija, you can't leave!"

"Just tell me what I need to do--I'll try anything!"

♪ When you dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me ♪

"Gah!" Luz clutches her chest as she jolts upright, panting in time with her current ringtone for Amity. Her fingers quiver as she picks up, hoping that her voice won't waver just as much:

"Hello?" No such luck--the greeting cracks like a broken palisman.

"A little owl told me you're in town." Amity doesn't mention it, though--at least, not right away. "Ed and Em are competing to see who can drink the most coffee--want to come watch?"

"I'll bring the popcorn if you save me a cup." Luz's chuckles are weak, but they fall from her lips nonetheless. "Or two. Or ten."

"As the sister of a healer," Amity begins over her girlfriend's yawns, "I feel obligated to remind you that it's dangerous to consume too much caffeine."

"I see," Luz shakily exhales as her pulse continues to pound. "And what does my girlfriend have to say?"

"That you can have whatever you want, batata. Are you okay, though?" Amity goes on, and Luz can practically hear her worried frown. "You sound...I don't know, a little off."

"Nothing a kiss and a cappuccino can't fix," Luz assures with unsteady words. "See you soon!"

* * *

gus: so, amity, who ended up winning on saturday?

amity: luz, actually--she drank the twins under the table.

willow: that explains why she was so jittery when she was helping us garden on sunday.

hunter: yeah, the bags under her eyes had bags under them--she looked like me when i was in the emperor's coven.

vee: maybe we need to have another intervention--remember when she stayed up for two days straight to finish writing that fanfic?

amity: oh, that was a good one--three hundred thousand words of enemies to lovers slow burn.

willow: ami--take off the fangirl glasses for a second.

amity: right--luz's sleep is more important, is what i meant to say.

vee: what's the plan--slumber party at our house to make sure she gets some shut-eye?

gus: i'll bring the cosmic frontier DVDs.

gus: (and won't try to take a bite out of them this time)

hunter: i'll bring the matching pjs i made us.

hunter: (after i add the cardinal patches)

willow: and i'll bring the camera--hexsquad, assemble!

* * *

"Guys, this isn't necessary. Seriously, I'm fine!"

"Uh-huh." Hunter isn't buying what Luz is trying to sell, raising a skeptical eyebrow in response to her protests. "How many fingers am I holding up right now?"

"Stop moving and I'll tell you." Luz squints as hard as she can, but all she's able to make out are Gus's furrowed brows.

"Luz," he delicately begins like he's trying not to spook a wounded fawn. "Hunter's not moving--at all."

"Yes, he is," she drowsily insists as she tries to blink the sleep out of her eyes. But the rapid movements only make things worse:

"Whoa, now there's two of him!" Luz laughs as she limply flashes finger guns. "Did he use Eda's cloning potion?"

"It's worse than I thought," Willow solemnly says as her friend sways in place. "Amity, you know what we have to do."

"Right," the girl in question agrees with a serious nod. "Initiate Operation: Pillow Fort."

"Nooooo." Luz tries to make a break for it, but she only manages a few sluggish steps before she's trapped by a tail. "I'm not tirrrrred."

"Dude," Vee deadpans as she holds her sister in place. "You mixed up the cinnamon with the cayenne pepper at breakfast. Even Mom couldn't handle how spicy the pancakes were!"

"But--"

"--ts are for sitting." Under Willow's command, the fronds of a nearby fern steal Luz from Vee, tugging her into a tangle of downy cushions and soft duvets. "Now, let's talk about how you destroyed my home and any chance I had at happiness."

"What did you say?" Luz swears her friend's eyes flash green, but she seems to be the only one who sees it:

"She said let's get this party started!" Not one, not two, but three Gus Porters answer her. The illusion on her left hands Luz a steaming cup of hot cocoa. The apparition on her right deposits a pink frog plush into her lap. But the third Gus--the real one--only gives her an angry glare:

"Yeah, anything for good ol' Luz--the biggest hypocrite ever."

"Did you just call me what I think you called me?" Luz asks, sticking a finger in her ear to make sure she's not hearing things.

"Of course--why wouldn't I say you're the best? Now shhh, the movie's starting!"

As the lights dim, Luz does her best to focus on the film, but each scene reminds her of a recent bad dream:

Like Monday's nightmare, where she was the one who crushed Flapjack in front of a horrified Hunter.

Or Tuesday's stomach-turning vision in which she unwittingly helped Jacob recapture her sister.

And she won't be able to forget what she saw on Wednesday--Amity sprawled lifelessly at her feet, slain in the very duel she'd challenged Luz to.

Or will she? As her mug grows lighter and her grip on the stuffed toy tightens, Luz finds that the web of stress and regret in her chest is starting to unravel. Eventually, it gets so slack that she could drift...right off...to sleep...

"Luz?" Vee is surrounded by rubble as she shouts, calling her sister's name while the Boiling Isles burn around her. "Now would be a really good time to come out from wherever you're hiding!"

"I'm right here!" Luz's shout appears to fall on deaf ears, failing to turn any of the five heads in front of her.

"This can't be real," Amity breathes in disbelief under a darkening sky. "After everything we've been through, would she really just leave?"

"Of course not! Can't you see me? Don't you hear me?"

"No." It's Hunter who unwittingly answers Luz, narrowing his eyes as he clenches his fists. "This is exactly what we should've expected."

"How can you say that?" Luz asks, wincing when her voice cracks with despair. "I've never left you behind, not even when we were trapped in Belos' mind!"

"She wanted to live out her fantasy of being a witch," Gus bitterly nods as he fights back tears. "Figures she'd take off when things got hard."

"I wasn't using you to play make-believe!" Luz yells into the thickening smog. "I came for my book, but I stayed for my friends!"

"I should've dissected her when I had the chance." Willow hasn't seemed this angry since Amity burned up her memories. A wreath of thorny vines seethes around her feet, churning in the dirt under the power of their betrayed creator. "Some BFF she turned out to be."

"Willow, I'm still your friend, I never stopped--" The rest of Luz's sentence dies in her throat when drops of acid rain begin to hit her skin. Her flesh melts into sludge as it's pelted by the biting downpour, dooming her to suffer the same fate that claimed the Emperor. And why shouldn't she? After all, if it hadn't been for her helping him, then nothing bad ever would've happened to--

"Luz!" The serpent who comes to her rescue this time is her sister. Vee's scaly arms are there to catch Luz when she wakes with a start, forming a welcome shelter from the storm inside her mind. "Hey, it's okay--you're okay."

"Sorry." Luz doesn't sound okay when she apologizes, fighting for air as she stands up on shaky legs. "I just need some water--"

"I'll get it." Hunter is quick to volunteer for the task, because he knows the face of a flight risk who's about to take off. As he leaves, he gives Luz's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, one that makes it a bit easier for her to speak:

"I didn't kick you guys in my sleep or something, did I?" She tries to keep her tone light and playful, but the four expressions that face her still look rattled.

"No," Gus quietly replies as he fumbles around for the remote. "But you were talking."

"Oh, no," Luz groans as she claps a hand against her forehead. "Hopefully I didn't say anything embarrassing."

"You were screaming for help." Willow's words are troubled and blunt, cutting through the silence that ensues when the TV is turned off. "You kept--" Her voice hitches then, and she has to swallow before she can continue. "You kept saying you didn't want to die--it sounded like you thought you were going to die."

"Luz," Amity murmurs as she laces their fingers together. "Did something happen while we were collected? Eda and King said you fought Belos, but they wouldn't tell us anything else." Luz's mind is screaming for her to run, or hide, or lie. But her tired heart pushes the truth off her tongue with a series of weary beats:

"He was going to hurt the Collector--I got in between them at the last second. At first, I thought I dodged his attack, but then, I started...dissolving." The more she talks, the more her voice wobbles with water, threatening to break under the weight of unshed tears. "It was like my body was made up of light glyphs, and someone tapped on every single one at once."

"That was you?" The planes of Gus's face are creased with shock, crumpling beneath the force of a horrible realization.

"I thought they were fireflies," Willow begins with a haunted stare. "When we saw the orbs in the Archives. I didn't know...none of us knew..."

"Oof!" As Willow trails off, Amity latches onto her girlfriend like she's afraid she'll disappear. "Shoot," Luz says when she feels her shoulder grow damp. "I didn't say anything because I was trying not to hurt you, but I ended up doing that anyway, huh?"

"Only you would be worried about us when you're the one who almost died." Hunter's remark is meant to lighten the mood, but it quickly gets heavier than the glass he hands Luz:

"Did die, actually--met the Titan and everything." A squeak slips past her lips when Amity hugs her impossibly closer, like she's telling the Grim Reaper he'll have to go through her.

"I knew I should've gone with you guys," Vee sighs as the fins on the sides of her head droop with sadness. "But even if I had, you probably wouldn't have needed my help--you still would've beaten that monster all by yourself. You're so brave, Luz."

"But I'm not. I've been too afraid to close my eyes for almost a week, because every time I do, I lose my mom, or myself, or one of you. It hurts--it's never stopped hurting, and I don't know how to make it go away. It's my own fault, though. Someone who's screwed up as bad as I have deserves--"

"Don't." Hunter interrupts before Luz can finish, stopping her from cracking a verbal whip on her own back. "If you won't let me blame myself for actively helping Belos, then I won't let you beat yourself up for getting tricked by him."

"But that's different--"

"Luz." Amity speaks for the first time since hearing the news, her voice heavy with a combination of grief and dismay. "You've buried the hatchet with people who have done so much worse," she goes on as she gestures to herself. "Why can't you forgive my awesome girlfriend, too?"

"Because I have no idea how," Luz despairs as she shrinks into Amity. "It's too much to hold onto, but it's all I know--I'm afraid of what will happen if I let it go."

"Then let us help you carry it," Willow says as she holds out a hand. "Until you're ready."

"Yeah," Gus agrees as he reaches out an arm of his own. "We can handle it. The two of us bench pressed Puddles during Flyer Derby practice--your conscience has to weigh less than he does." Luz isn't sure what makes her break--the mental image of her friends power lifting a griffin or the joking wink one of them throws her. But the how isn't important--what matters is that she drops her guard, exposing the tangle of shame that's been strangling her. With soft fingers and gentle words, her friends--her family--start to unravel it:

"We're sorry you had to go through that," Hunter soothes as Luz sniffles into his shirt. "If we hadn't been turned into puppets, we never would've let it happen."

"Really?" Luz asks as she wipes her eyes. "Even after all the times I got you guys in trouble?"

"Of course," Vee responds as if there's no other answer. "You saved me when we didn't even know each other--now that we do, I'd bend over backwards for you. Like this," she continues as she contorts her body, beaming when the exaggerated movement earns her a misty chuckle.

"You're worth rescuing, Luz." Gus is the one to land a hit on her silent fear, and Willow quickly swoops in to put it to rest:

"We'd go to war for you. Don't think we wouldn't do it if we had to."

"If someone wants to get to our good witch," Amity confirms with a protective fervor, "then they'll have to go through us."

"Thanks, guys," Luz sniffs in the moonlight streaming through the window. "Now I just wish I'd stop feeling like I'm going to go up in smoke." She doesn't expect anything to come of her admission, but a bunch of stuff happens at once:

Hunter's Flapjack tattoo brushes against hers, leaving pleasant tingles where there were frightened goosebumps.

A pair of see-through blue hands support her back, smoothing out the tremors that ripple through her skin.

A snapdragon is tucked behind her ear with tenderness, calming the distressed buzzing that's taken over her brain.

A tinfoil swan--like the one Vee had almost thrown out--slides into her grasp, giving her something to hold onto as she rides out the rest of the tempest.

And Amity brings their faces together, stealing any lingering worries away with a kiss.

"You couldn't get rid of us if you tried," she assures Luz when they reluctantly break apart. "We're stuck to you like abomination goo--literally," she goes on, guiding a tendril of slime around her girlfriend's wrist. A few drops of ooze drip onto Luz's shirt in the process, turning the white fabric purple as the stains begin to set in.

"I've got it," she tells Amity when the latter moves to dab at the splatters. "Just don't eat all the pizza before I come back, okay?"

"No promises!" Luz rolls her eyes when the boys immediately dive towards the cardboard box. The living room dissolves into chaos fast, exploding with laughter that follows her as she goes to do laundry alone. Except she isn't by herself--Camila's bent over a basket of clothes, trying to figure out what socks belong to which of her six kids.

"So," she starts as she tosses her daughter a knowing smile, "should I be concerned about all that banging?"

"Nah--this is just a sequel to the Great Takeout Battle of 2022. I'm surprised you can hear it all the way down here," Luz continues as she kneels to help her mother.

"I've been telling you since you were little, sweetheart--moms hear everything." Camila's still wearing a grin, but her tone is colored with sadness.

"When you say everything, do you mean...?" The silence that ensues after Luz trails off confirms her fear. "I'm sorry, Mamá--I never wanted you to know about any of that."

"And you think I would want you to deal with it all by yourself? Come here, mijita." The embrace they fall into is warm, and safe, and cozy, far away from gooey monsters and corrupt politicians. But strong as their makeshift fortress of limbs may be, it's powerless to keep mournful tears from falling: "I could feel that something was wrong, even though I was under the Collector's spell. I knew it was bad, but I never could've imagined something like...this." Camila's voice falters on the last word, barely squeaking by the lump that's formed in her throat. "I'm sorry, little light," she weeps, clinging to her daughter like she's terrified she'll vanish. "Maybe if I hadn't tried to send you to that camp, you never would have--"

"Mami, no." Luz shifts the blame to herself before her mother can place it on her own shoulders. "I was the one who ran away--I was the one who chose to stay in the Demon Realm. I'm sorry," she rasps, feeling like she's five years old as her mother strokes her curls. "I never meant to make life so challenging for you."

"It hasn't been a challenge, hija--it's been an adventure, the best one I've ever had. Don't get used to hearing this," Camila goes on as giggles float down the stairs, "but part of me is glad you broke your promise."

"Same here," Luz smiles over the sound of controlled chaos in the distance. "This crazy family we've created is worth a few bad dreams."

"You'll never be too old to come to me, you know," Camila says before dropping a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "About those--about anything. Whatever I can do to help you, I will--you'll always have someone in your corner as long as I'm around."

"Ditto," Luz echoes, because this vow will be much easier to keep. "Hey, do we have any of that tea you used to make me?"

"The one that would get you to sleep on bad nights when you were little?" Camila asks as her daughter fights to keep her eyes open. "I can run to the store and get some. Will you be okay if I leave for a few minutes?"

"Actually, why don't we go with you? Gus has been dying to use the self checkout again--says it's more magical than anything they have at the Night Market." That's what comes out of Luz's mouth, but her mother hears something else:

You were never what I was running from, and now that I'm back, I'll never take another moment with you for granted.

Camila doesn't use words to respond. She doesn't need to. Her fingers talk for her, refusing to let go of Luz's until she falls asleep:

Ni lo haré, hijita, por el resto de mi vida.

* * *

"And then I ripped Belos off the Titan's heart while quoting the Good Witch Azura! It was like something right out of the first book--I wish you could've seen it!"

"I did, sweetheart." Manny Noceda sounds just as proud as he did the day his daughter was born. He looks it, too, beaming as he lays a delighted hand on her shoulder. "King's dad made sure I had a front row seat before he faded away. You were amazing, mija--your friends are lucky to have you."

"...yeah." For once, Luz doesn't disagree. Instead of insisting that it would be better if she never existed, she allows herself to lean all the way into the comforting touch. There's no place for shame in this embrace--the hug only has enough room for love. "I'm lucky to have them, too. I wish they could've met you--I know you would've loved them."

"I may not have shaken their hands, but that doesn't mean we haven't met. The In Between Realm offered an excellent view of the shenanigans you got into." The chuckle they share feels like a refuge, one that's heavily fortified against nightmares and doubts. "Your mom and I always talked about expanding our family, but we didn't think it was possible after my diagnosis."

"When you said you wanted more kids, I bet this isn't what you expected," Luz jokes, but her dad's reply takes her by surprise:

"Are you kidding? Having one son who loves Cosmic Frontier would've been enough, but I hit the jackpot and got two! And I thought my old camera would stay in storage, but Willow seems to like it as much as I did. Your sister takes after me, too, if that baseball bat in her room is anything to go by. Maybe I can use it to give Amity a shovel talk from beyond the grave."

"Daaaaad." Luz's cheeks flush red as she lets out an embarrassed whine, but the uncomfortable blush fades away soon enough:

"I'm kidding, cariño," Manny grins as he gives her ribs a playful poke. "I couldn't imagine a better Hecate to your Azura if I tried. If anything, I should be giving you the shovel talk."

"Papá!" Luz gasps in mock offense as she throws a hand against her chest. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you liked them more than me."

"There's more than enough love to go around, hijita. There always will be. You can feel it right...here." Luz experiences peace for the first time in weeks when her dad taps the spot where her heart beats. Each thump is a note in a lullaby, drawing out the sweetest dream she's ever had. As her body and mind are surrounded by love, she finds that, for once, she can wait to wake up.