Chapter Text
Bloom can’t say she’s one to believe in fairytales.
All little girls have that phase— the one where they think they’re mermaids, or believe that a handsome prince will one day take them away from the woes of everyday life. Bloom is— or was— no exception. She believed in princesses, in witches, in all of the stories read to her by her mother. Most of all, Bloom believed in fairies.
At six, she’d try to jump as high as she could and hope that if it was high enough, she’d fly. At ten, she crafted homemade fairy wings out of a cardboard box from her mother’s flower shop.
But, now sixteen, Bloom sees through it— the magic, the sorcery. She realizes that all the fairy tales are, are just that— tales. Lies and fabrications based upon a whim and committed to paper. The books she’d used to read and fantasize about every night before bed don’t line the space of her bookshelf anymore. The tales about witches and princesses and fairies sit tightly packed away in a cardboard box, somewhere at the bottom of a closet.
Her belief fades over time. It’s a part of growing up. Teenage girls don’t believe in magic. Teenage girls don’t believe in fairies.
As she stares at the black void in front of her, Bloom realizes that she’s dreaming again. It’s a frequent setting for her dreams to take place in this darkness as of recent; every night since she’d turned sixteen the previous November. They all start out the same— Bloom finds herself in a void, or a dark room. Sometimes it’s the dark halls of a castle, barely visible. Sometimes, it’s nothing at all.
However, a firm constant in these dreams is one figure in particular: An ethereal, golden lady who looks like she stepped right off the pages of Bloom’s childhood fairytales.
The woman’s behavior and what she does are as constant as her appearances. She floats through the darkness, swimming through the air as her long, golden gown and her long, golden hair float behind her. She emits a golden light, illuminating her surroundings as she shows herself. Her appearance always remains the same— long hair, long gown, and a mask in front of her eyes that reminds Bloom vaguely of a superhero mask with pointed tips. She carries herself with poise and grace.
The woman never attempts to strike up a conversation. She only calls Bloom’s name, over and over again until she wakes up.
This time, it seems that Bloom stands in a castle corridor. The golden lady floats down the hall, brightening the space with the aura she emits. The castle walls look damaged, like something had torn through them and caused the stone to crumble.
The light that follows is brighter than before, somehow— Bloom has to remind herself that she’s dreaming. Dreams don’t make sense.
“… Bloom,” The woman hums, her voice echoing off the walls of the corridor.
Bloom stands there like she always does— watching the woman approach, hearing the woman call for her. She expects to wake soon, at the completion of her nightly routine, when she strays from the usual path and says something other than Bloom’s name for the first time since November.
“Bloom,” She murmurs, “remember—”
Three sharp knocks to her bedroom door.
“Bloom?” Her mother calls. “Bloom, it’s one PM! Are you awake yet?”
Bloom groans into her pillow. Of course. Right when the woman is about to mix up her routine after having the same dream night after night since her birthday, her mom comes pounding on the door. Bloom rolls over to face the wall and tries to ignore her mother’s repetitive knocking.
And, of course, her mother doesn’t take her silence for an answer. She opens the door, steps to Bloom’s bed, and places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Bloom?”
Bloom barely turns her head. “Yeah, mom. I’m up.”
Her mother stands next to the bed, her other hand resting on her hip. She wears a creme colored shirt and her usual green overalls, paired with the apron she always wears to do the dishes. Once Bloom rolls on her back to face her fully, she retracts her hand from her daughter’s shoulder and crosses her arms.
“Honey, it’s already one PM.” She says, tone softer now. “Are you planning on sleeping your whole summer away?”
Bloom blindly feels for her phone on her nightstand. She presses the power button, the screen reflecting that it is, indeed, one PM. Her eyes flick to the portion of the screen that displays the date: Sunday, August 15th. It’s a Sunday— isn’t she allowed to feel a little lazy on the weekends?
“It’s August. Summer is pretty much over, anyways.” Bloom replies.
Her mother sighs. She looks around the room and busies herself with picking sketchbooks and loose articles of paper that litter the floor. Bloom sits up, resting her back against the headboard. Her mother retrieves a pencil drawing of Bloom’s from the floor, then holds it out to inspect it. “Who is this lady you’ve been drawing so much? Is she from a TV show?”
Bloom glances around the room to see all the various drawings she’d done of the woman from her dreams. She’d painted her, sketched her, even outlined her figure in a golden glitter gel pen. Awake or asleep, it doesn’t matter— this woman weaves herself into Bloom’s daily life.
“No,” She mutters, pulling the blanket higher on herself, “I just… saw her somewhere. I don’t know.”
Something in Bloom’s tone alerts her mom. She places the stack of drawings on the desk, then sits down on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “Sweetheart, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind right now, especially with what happened with Andy.”
Bloom groans, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t want to talk about Andy right now—”
“Why don’t you go get some fresh air? Maybe that will help clear your head.”
Truthfully, it’s the last thing she wants to do. All Bloom wants to do right now is wallow in her own self-pity and wait for summer to end. After a catastrophic rumor at school caused her to lose most of her friends and her longtime boyfriend, Bloom wanted to change her name and move to a different state. Her mother should be glad that this is the extent (and severity) of her actions.
Her mom places a hand on Bloom’s knee and leans in towards her. “Hey. I know it’s been hard, but trust me when I say, this will be good for you.”
Bloom isn’t sure of what her mom is referring to— the fresh air or the friend group she’d been outcast from. She figures that it’s probably the former, but it’s no secret that her mom wasn’t exactly a fan of the people her daughter had surrounded herself with. She hadn’t been Andy’s, Bloom’s ex-boyfriend’s, number one fan either.
Her mom pats her knee twice, stands, and walks towards the doorway. “Get dressed, then come to the kitchen. Dad made pancakes.”
Pancakes? At one PM? Bloom knows when she’s being pitied— this is one of those instances. Ever since the breakup, her parents have treated her like a fragile thing; like a breakable object. They constantly tip-toed around her, afraid to set her off or trigger a chain reaction of emotions. Bloom hates it. She’s sixteen— she’s not a baby anymore.
So, she decides to put on a brave face and get out of bed. Her outfit isn’t anything extravagant or well thought-out, as usual. She tugs her favorite pair of ripped jeans off the back of her desk chair and pulls a wrinkled blue tank top from within her dresser. Her shoes are the ones she chooses for every outfit— the same pair of beat-up, doodled on black Converse she’s had since the eighth grade. She haphazardly runs a hand through her wavy auburn locks and prays that she looks at least a little bit presentable.
After getting dressed, she slings her backpack over her shoulder and walks to the kitchen. Her family’s apartment isn’t very big or lavish, but Bloom doesn’t mind. It’s tastefully decorated with family photos and hanging plants speckling the space. It’s a typical, family-sized New York apartment. When Bloom reaches the kitchen, her parents are doing their respective, everyday tasks.
Her dad, who currently stands over the stove, turns to face her when she enters. “There’s my little girl!”
Bloom shrugs off her bag and sits down at the kitchen table. She can’t help the smile that ghosts her lips. “I’m sixteen, dad. Not a little girl anymore.”
A fork clatters on the plate her dad has just pulled out from the cabinet. He scoops three pancakes onto it and carries it to her place at the table. “Even so, you’re still my little girl.” He sets the plate down and as he does so, pecks the side of her head. Bloom laughs and recoils in playful retaliation.
As she picks up her fork to stab a piece of the pancake, a furry head nudges against her leg. She glances down to find her dog sitting there, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he waits for table scraps. He lets out an enthusiastic ruff! to argue his point further— it’s very convincing.
“Here, Kiko.” She whispers, then drops a piece of pancake into the dog’s mouth. “Don’t tell mom.”
“Don’t tell me what?” Her mother calls from the sink.
“Nothing!” Bloom quickly replies, shoving a bite of pancake in her own mouth.
As she finishes her breakfast, Bloom watches her parents go about their day. Her mom is talking to her dad about a big order of gardenias being shipped in for a wedding to her flower shop. Her father responds by informing his wife that he’s only needed in the station for an hour or two today, so he’ll be around later if she needs an extra set of hands. The noise of the city’s traffic floats in from the open window, filling the room with a comforting hum of background noise.
Bloom’s father finishes gathering the dishes he’d dirtied when making breakfast and sets them to the right of the sink, where her mother still stands with her hands occupied by the contents of it. He kisses his wife’s head briefly and walks in the direction of the front door of the apartment. He’s got his work uniform on, black slacks and a black t-shirt that reads New York City Fire Department across the back, and Bloom wonders why he hasn’t been at the station yet today. He’s usually gone by this time.
Bloom’s parents’ respective work uniforms hang on the straight across coat hangers on the wall, fire jacket and gardening apron side by side. On his way to the front door, her father lifts his jacket from the hook, revealing the white lettering on her mother’s green work apron: Peters Florals.
“Hey, I almost forgot.” Her father starts, turning towards the table. “Your mother and I have a little surprise for you before I head out.”
Bloom’s heart jumps in her chest. A surprise coming from her parents could mean anything, really— a new jacket, a car, or even just that he was planning on making her favorite meal for dinner tonight. Her mind, though, immediately goes to an item she’d been begging for since the beginning of summer: an electric scooter. All the other kids at her high school had one.
Bloom’s mother dries her hands on her apron and eagerly walks toward the apartment door. Her mother’s visible excitement only increases hers more.
“Uhh… what is it?” She asks, hoping and praying that maybe her dad had finally gotten over his safety concerns regarding an electric vehicle.
Her father shares a smile with her mother. “Well,” He starts, “let’s just say it’ll help you get around town faster.”
Bloom feels a smile creep onto her own face at the statement. It has to be an electric scooter. There’s no way it isn’t one. She stands from her chair from the kitchen table and walks towards the door, Kiko following behind.
“Ready? And…” Her father says, hand on the doorknob, dragging out the last word for dramatic effect as he opens the door, “ta-da!”
It’s… a scooter. Just, not the one Bloom had been hoping for.
The scooter that stands before her in the apartment complex hallway is small. It’s silver around the neck and base, with accents on the handles and wheels in her favorite color— blue. It’s obviously second hand, based on the wear and tear on the wheels and base— dirt scuffs from the shoes of its previous rider.
Bloom hopes the disappointment she feels isn’t evident on her face. She injects enthusiasm into her voice as best as she can manage. “… wow! It’s, um… it’s nice.”
Silence falls between her parents, and Bloom knows that she hadn’t hidden her emotions as best as she thought. She really hopes that she hadn’t offended them by her response. She’s grateful, really, but can’t help but be disappointed by the lack of a motorized element. Bloom should have expected that her father would never allow her to ride an electric scooter.
“Why don’t you take it to the park? It’s nice out today, take it for a spin!” Her mother offers, cheery tone breaking the silence. “You should bring Kiko with you! I’m sure he’d appreciate some fresh air.”
Before Bloom can even think about it, her dad has gone back into the apartment to grab her bag and Kiko’s leash. He shoves the items in his daughter’s direction with a smile. She takes them hesitantly.
“I’m heading out now too. I’ll walk you down.” Her dad says, and starts off to the stairs. Bloom follows. She’s not entirely sold on the situation, but why not? Some fresh air could be good for her. It’s definitely better than rotting in her bed for the next twelve hours, no matter how much she wants to.
It takes some effort to get the scooter down the two flights of stairs and keep Kiko from yanking her and preventing him from knocking her on her ass at the same time, but she manages. As she exits the front door, dog leash and scooter in hand, the warm air hits her face and brushes her hair off her shoulders. Her corner of the city is bustling as usual— Midtown is always busy, but it seems that more people are out than usual to enjoy the summer air before the cold starts to creep in.
After her dad ruffles her hair (which she promptly smooths back down) and leaves, Bloom starts off down the street on her scooter and lets Kiko pull her instead of propelling herself. The scooter goes at a moderate speed and is easy to steer, overall not as bad or as slow as Bloom thought it would be. She feels awful for responding to her parents’ gift the way that she did.
As she stops at an intersection to wait for a crosswalk, an agitating, nasally voice sounds from beside her. It can’t be anyone else but Mitzi.
Mitzi, a girl in Bloom’s class, has been trying to get under her skin since the beginning of freshman year. She really isn’t sure of why Mitzi acts this way. Mitzi has nice clothes, lives in a nice penthouse, and even has those yappy little thousand-dollar designer dogs that can fit into your purse. Her dad is some big-shot business man and donates a ton of money to his daughter’s school. Ninety percent of the time, Mitzi’s parents leave her alone with her maid— Bloom had found this information out from an ex-friend of Mitzi’s last May.
“Hi, Bloom.” Mitzi greets, fake enthusiasm like nails on a chalkboard. “Are you and your mutt going to hang out with your friends? Oh, that’s right— I forgot. You don’t have any.”
At the present time, it seems that Mitzi could be going to the park as well. Bloom recognizes Mitzi’s maid, an older woman in a grey dress with a white apron, holding a leash to one of Mitzi’s family dogs. Mitzi clutches her designer bag on her shoulder like she thinks that Bloom is going to mug her.
Bloom’s mother always told her that bullies target people because they’re insecure, or jealous. Bloom isn’t sure of what Mitzi could be jealous of her for having. Nearly all of Bloom’s clothes are handmade or from the thrift store. She lives in a small apartment, doesn’t go on vacation, and doesn’t have a car. Though, on the other hand, Bloom’s parents are always home and present. Mitzi’s aren’t.
Another thing that Bloom’s mother had told her about bullies was not to interact with them. Don’t engage— it’s not worth it. She feeds off of your responses. Only hit her if she hits you first.
However, Bloom won’t let herself be an easy target. She refuses, and is frankly too damn stubborn to follow her mother’s guidance in this situation.
“Nice to see you, Mitzi.” Bloom responds, deadpan and monotonous. “Where are your parents at? Out on a vacation you weren’t invited to again?”
The comment clearly takes Mitzi by surprise. Conveniently, the sign at the other side of the street changes from a red hand to a walking stick figure, signaling the pedestrians to cross. Mitzi starts off towards the other side of the street before Bloom can barely process the change.
Mitzi turns to look at Bloom over her shoulder and shouts, “Nice scooter, by the way. Didn’t know the Goodwill had those!” After that, she storms off down the street, her maid scrambling behind with the dog.
Whatever. Mitzi can make fun of Bloom and her clothes and her dog and her possessions all she wants. It doesn’t change the fact that Bloom has more than Mitzi ever will— her parents are proof enough of that.
Finally, after what feels like forever and is really just a short trip down the block, Bloom reaches her destination. Central Park flourishes in the August heat. It’s getting to the end of the summer season in New York, and the wind blows through the trees and the grass like it knows of the change soon to come. Bloom tosses the scooter aside before she takes a seat under the shade of an oak tree. The area she’s chosen is a familiar one— her usual spot to hang out away from the walking paths and crowds of people.
She lets Kiko off his leash, trusting that he won’t run away, and pulls a sketchbook and a pencil from her backpack. She flips it open to an unfinished drawing of the golden woman she’s been dreaming about.
Bloom can’t think of what it is about this woman that makes her feel familiar. For some reason, Bloom feels like she knows her— from more than just seeing her in her dreams every night. Like she’s someone who she maybe had an off hand encounter with, maybe a stranger on the street or a cashier or something. She’d read some fact in some article that said that you can’t dream about people you’ve never seen before. Your mind can’t just make up new faces— every person that you dream about, you’ve seen in real life.
But, if that’s true, Bloom doesn’t recall seeing a literally glowing woman out on the streets of New York. She’d certainly remember if someone was just… hovering above the ground and not walking. Though, she can’t shake the feeling.
Bloom lifts her gaze from the sketchbook to see Kiko sniffing the ground and some nearby shrubs. It makes her smile, seeing the way he barks at flying bugs and wags his tail when he pokes his furry head into a bush.
Kiko had been a birthday gift from her parents when Bloom turned eleven— and honestly, Bloom regards the day she’d received him as the best day of her life. From the moment he was given to her, the two of them were inseparable. She’d tried to stuff him in her backpack to take him to school with her more times than she could count.
Kiko, though high-energy, is extremely well behaved for a dog of his breed. He doesn’t ever growl, or nip, or act out in a way another dog would. Which is why Bloom finds it weird that Kiko, who has moved past a shrub and now is focused on something blocked from Bloom’s view, is standing on-guard, growling low.
The dog’s behavior immediately sounds alarm bells in Bloom’s head. Kiko is practically a teddy bear— she’s never seen him act this way before.
“Kiko?” Bloom calls, shoving her sketchbook and pencil back into her backpack, then standing from the ground, “What’s wrong, boy?”
The dog doesn’t respond. To get a better look at the situation, Bloom takes a few cautious steps towards him. She fears it’s a wolf, or a bear, or a raccoon or something— but what she sees is nothing of the sort.
Kiko had found an altercation happening in a clearing, between two figures: a large man, and a girl…
… who seemingly has wings attached to her back.
They’re fighting, the two figures. The man is grotesque and large with yellowish skin. The girl wears a sparkly two-piece and matching boots, her long blonde hair contained in two pigtails that cascade down her back. Her wings, which Bloom believes are a costume piece until the girl uses them to fly out of the way of the man’s fist, are a shimmering blue. She holds a large staff between her hands.
“… or you will feel the magic of the sun and moon fairy!”
Fairy? Bloom’s ears must be failing her. She’s gone delusional from being outcast from society. The amount of time she’s spent in her room has made her go insane. She’s probably just encountered some LARPers that tend to gather here and stage their fake fights. It’s not uncommon in Central Park.
That is, until the man runs at the girl and physically sends her soaring across the small clearing. There’s no way that’s a human. He’s way too large, and no normal person can produce the force that he knocked that poor girl back with.
Bloom stays silent and continues to watch, fearing what would happen if she intervened. Six or so red, four-legged creatures come crawling from behind the man’s back, and she has a hard time providing a logical explanation for what those things are. As far as she knows, dogs don’t come in the shade firehouse red.
“Times up, fairy.” The man sneers. He claps his hands and the sound it produces makes Bloom’s ears ring. “Grab the scepter!”
She assumes he’s talking to the doglike creatures. They scamper towards the blonde, who is still conscious based on her verbal protests, and one of the creatures takes the scepter from her hands. It dutifully returns it to the man— man? Ogre? Man-ogre? Bloom still isn’t sure— and he raises it above his head.
He’s going to kill her, she thinks. He’s going to kill that poor girl and Bloom is standing there watching like an idiot.
She has to do something. Anything.
Against her better judgement, she steps out from behind the tree. “Hey!”
Immediately, the man-ogre and all of the red creatures turn to look at her. The blonde girl’s eyes shift to look at Bloom.
“Let her go. Or else.” Bloom threatens, hands clenched into fists. Kiko stands at her side, growling louder now.
The man-ogre laughs. “Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll…” Bloom trails off. Wait— what is she going to do? She’s up against someone ten times her size and has no form of a weapon. Bloom glances down at Kiko, then corrects herself, “He’ll bite you.”
The man-ogre just stands there. Then, he laughs again. He jabs a finger in Bloom’s direction. “Ghouls, end her!”
Immediately, the red creatures— ghouls— scamper threateningly towards Bloom. Kiko takes a protective step in front of his owner, barking and growling louder now.
Her fists clench at her sides, her breathing quickening. She’s astounded by the audacity that this man has. Who does this guy think he is? Whoever, whatever he is, what gives him the right to come into her city and try to attack this poor girl? What gives him the right to send his demon-looking dogs after the two of them? Ghouls be damned— she’s not going down without a fight.
Bloom is angry— more than she’s ever been before. This anger, forged by fire in the pit of her stomach, starts to rise. She isn’t going to let herself become a target. Not to Mitzi, not to this man, not to anyone.
Something inside her breaks— like water bursting through a dam.
Instinctively, Bloom holds out her hand and screws her eyes shut. “Get back!”
When Bloom opens her eyes again, expecting the monsters to gnaw at her ankles, they aren’t there anymore. All that’s left of three of them are three clouds of smoke and the smell of burnt flesh.
Bloom holds out her hands and looks at them in shock. What just happened? Did she do that? Her hands tingle, and Bloom isn’t sure if she’s hallucinating the way that her hands glow a faint red like a hot coil. Whatever it was, whatever she just did, she feels a sense of pride.
Though, she’s not out of the woods yet. Three more ghouls start off in her direction. One of them, specifically, goes for Kiko— and Bloom sees red. She’s not entirely sure she’ll be able to replicate whatever the hell just happened, so instead she lures the creatures away from him.
“Hey, assholes!” She shouts, sprinting back to where she’d abandoned her bag and scooter. “Over here!”
The ghouls follow, their sharp claws making tears in the grass. Bloom racks her brain for something, anything that she can use as a weapon against them— no large sticks, no bottles. There isn’t exactly an assortment of weapons lying about in the park.
Though, as Bloom turns the corner, she catches sight of a shining silver object in the grass, a few steps away from her backpack: the scooter.
As she skids to a stop in front of it, Bloom lifts the scooter over her head and swings it like a baseball bat. It collides with two of the monsters, causing them to both explode into dust. Kiko seems to be fending for himself just fine, currently gripping one of the monsters tightly between his teeth and shaking it vigorously back and forth like a chew toy. He makes a confused noise when the ghoul turns to dust after a few particularly rough shakes.
As she takes a quick glance around the makeshift battlefield, Bloom notes that the ghouls are gone, now. She and Kiko had managed to get rid of the lot of them. Thinking that the fight is done and the scooter has served its purpose, Bloom sets it down in the grass again and takes a second to breathe. However, Kiko starts to growl and bark again behind her back.
Before Bloom can register it, she’s swooped off her feet and hoisted into the air by a large hand. From the smell and feeling alone, she can tell that the man-ogre has thrown her over his shoulder.
“Hey!” She bites, thrashing against the man’s tight grip. The struggle only makes him hold her tighter. “Let me go, you asshole!”
The man’s feet thud loudly as she’s carried away, presumably back towards the clearing where the girl resides. Bloom can feel his body rumble as he speaks. “I’ll smash you into pieces, little fairy. Just you wait—”
Fairy? Did he just call her a fairy? More importantly, did he just say he’s going to smash her into pieces?
The feeling, the indisputable anger, returns. It floods Bloom’s body, washing over her arms and legs and settling particularly strong in the center of her chest. As the man continues to move, she sees the girl on the ground again. She’s scared— Bloom can see it in her eyes. The girl watches the ogre take her away like she’s a lamb to slaughter.
Absolutely not. This is not how she’s going to die. Not if she has anything to say about it.
With one final thrash in the man’s grip, Bloom lets the anger take over. She screams as a bolt of energy erupts from her chest, effectively knocking the man flat on his ass and sending her soaring in the other direction. She lands against an oak tree with a thud and winces as pain explodes in her back. Kiko rushes towards and sniffs her like he’s inspecting her for injuries.
Bloom can’t tell if the man is dead, based on the patches of burns that cover his skin and the way he’s laying. From her angle, it doesn’t look like he’s breathing. Bloom couldn’t care less if he wasn’t.
“… oh, my stars.” The blonde girl murmurs, struggling to her feet. Bloom watches as she staggers toward her scepter, which was thrown to the side during the attack. As soon as she picks it up, she marvels at it again before rolling her shoulders back.
Bloom lowers her gaze to the grass beneath her as she struggles to sit up. She hardly notices the blonde approaching her until she speaks.
“Are you okay?” The girl asks, tone full of genuine concern. Bloom gives a shaky nod and tilts her head up to get a proper look at the girl.
She’s gorgeous, Bloom notes. Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and toned figure gives her the impression that she’s just walked off the Baywatch set. The girl smiles down at her, and it’s almost like her body emits a sort of glow— almost like the girl from her dreams.
Her wings, most importantly, move back and forth on their own at a slow pace. It reminds Bloom a butterfly’s wings while it perches on a flower, idly moving but not fast enough to take flight. The scepter in her hands glows, the center casting a golden light.
Across the clearing, the ogre starts to writhe. His groans of pain are enough to attract the attention of the girl once again.
“I’ve got my scepter back! You don’t scare me anymore.” The girl says triumphantly, then aims it at the ogre like a gun. A blast of light is sent shooting from the center of it and hits the ogre square in the chest— however, it only knocks him back a short distance.
The ogre raises his hand and opens what seems to be a portal of some kind, sitting flush to the ground. From it, out crawls out four more ghouls. Kiko starts to growl again.
Two of the monsters go straight for the blonde, while the other two go for Bloom and Kiko. The blonde handles hers with ease, blasting them with her scepter. Bloom finds herself wishing she had one of those as the ghouls get closer.
Kiko jumps in, fighting off one ghoul like he had before. The other one scampers up to Bloom and sinks its teeth into her leg, tearing her jeans in the process. The white hot pain in her shin triggers something within her— her skin heats up again like it had earlier, causing the monster to detach from her leg. It’s already starting to disappear due to the sheer heat of Bloom’s skin, but she gives a solid kick to the head with her uninjured leg for good measure.
Once the fight is over and the field is quiet again, Bloom lifts her gaze. The ogre is gone. All that remains from their fight are some scorch marks lining the grass.
Bloom hisses as the adrenaline begins to fade and her wounds start to sting. Kiko runs back to her again, settling down at her side.
The girl turns over her shoulder and takes a few unsteady steps toward Bloom. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Before she can answer yes, to both questions, the blonde loses her footing and falls. As she hits the floor, a golden light overwhelms her body. It’s almost too bright for Bloom to bear. When it fades, the girl’s wings have disappeared and she wears normal street clothes— a flowy, burnt orange tank top with medium-wash denim shorts. Her long blonde hair now flows down her body, freed of her previous pigtails. She blinks rapidly up at the sky and winces like she’s trying to collect herself.
Bloom curses under her breath and rises unsteadily to her feet. She staggers towards the blonde, panic flooding her.
“Oh my god— are you okay? Shit, I don’t know first-aid—” Bloom blurts, sinking to her knees in front of the girl.
The blonde braces her hands on the grass and struggles to a sitting position. Bloom places her hands on each of her shoulders to aid her. She smiles appreciatively, then looks from side to side. She’s scanning the surrounding trees like she’s never seen them before.
“Where are we?” The girl asks.
“… Central Park.” Bloom returns after a moment, then catches sight of a scrape near the blonde’s forearm. “We need to clean you up. Come on, we can go back to my apartment—“
As Bloom moves to pull the girl to her feet, the blonde shakes her head. “No— no. What— what planet are we on?”
Bloom blinks at the girl for a moment while she attempts to formulate a response that doesn’t sound mean. The only planet that has life? You know, Earth? Look around— we’re not on the moon!
“Uh… Earth?” Bloom answers.
The blonde squints her eyes, then looks to the crowds of people a ways away. “No, no… that doesn’t make sense.”
After a few minutes of the blonde trailing across the pedestrians, her eyes snap back to Bloom.
“I thought all the fairies on Earth were dead.”
Again, with all the fairy bullshit— this isn’t happening. This isn’t real. She’s hallucinated this random girl with wings who apparently isn’t from Earth and also uses a totally real magic scepter.
It’s absurd. The whole situation is.
“… what are you talking about? Fairies don’t exist.” Bloom says, sitting back on her heels.
The blonde looks at her, confusion evident on her face. It’s like she’s never heard such a claim before. She giggles before speaking, “Um, of course they do! Look in the mirror, silly!”
Bloom stutters at what she’s implying. “No, that’s not— I’m not a fairy.”
The girl raises an eyebrow. “Well, then, how do you explain what happened back there?”
She’s got a point. Bloom’s gaze drifts down to her hands unconsciously. The girl, crazy or not, is right— something did happen during that fight. But, she probably couldn’t replicate it even if she tried. It’s probably a trick of the lighting, or maybe Bloom’s really losing it.
“That was— that was a fluke. A freak accident.” She denies, shaking her head vigorously.
Without responding, the blonde reaches for a small object lying in the grass next to her. A golden light flashes, and the small item transforms into the girl’s scepter from earlier. It must have de-transformed when she did.
“Here,” The girl says, holding out the scepter to Bloom, “hold this.”
Bloom raises her eyebrows. She holds out a hand, then stutters, “… the— the staff?”
The blonde lets out a small sigh, then dips her head towards it. “Yes. Hold it.”
Okay. Here goes nothing. Bloom slowly grasps the object in her hand. As soon as she makes contact with the metal, the head of the staff begins to glow a bright orange. A surge of energy runs down Bloom’s arm and through the rest of her body, and it makes the sensation of power flood through her. It’s like her senses have been put on high alert.
“It doesn’t do that for just anyone, you know.” The blonde muses.
Hesitantly, Bloom lets go of the staff. The girl tosses it in the air and it transforms again— this time into a small silver ring, which the girl slides onto her finger.
Bloom takes a shaky breath, both hands held out in front of her. The more and more Bloom thinks about it, it begins to seem reasonable. She’d produced the blast of power that sent the ogre flying back— and again, the one to protect Kiko. The scepter had lit up at her touch like it’d done for the girl. Maybe, this is real. Maybe, she isn’t so crazy after all.
She looks to the blonde, and then back to her hands again. She can almost imagine the faint red glow from before. “This… this is real?”
“Better believe it, babe!” The girl smiles, taking both of Bloom’s shaking hands in hers, “You’re a fairy!”
The room is dark— cold, foggy in the way that the school always tends to be.
Three shadows stand on the opposite side of the room, eyes most certainly staring into his soul. The ogre can’t help but tremble where he stands.
He let them down. He failed them.
“What an idiot.” The shortest shadow spits, venom dripping from her tone.
A second, taller shadow cackles. “What kind of ogre can’t win a fight against a fairy?”
“Quiet!” The third shadow snaps. The other two fall silent at her command. “So... You have failed us.”
The ogre’s hands shake. “The scepter was in my hands— this Earth girl came and screwed everything up!”
The smallest shadow laughs. The second one snickers.
“Earth girl? Nonsense!” The third shadow barks.
He takes a deep breath before continuing to plead his case. “Something is not right with her. She fought off my ghouls like a fairy would.”
The statement seems to take the interest of the three shadows. They discuss quietly between themselves, then the leader speaks again. “Describe her.”
“Well, I— I didn’t get a good look at her, but one of my ghouls managed to snag this.” the ogre pulls a shred of cloth from his oversized pocket, “It’s from the girl’s clothing.”
The third shadow takes a few steps forward. She reaches out her hand, long fingers snatching the piece of cloth from the ogre’s grasp. The shadow marvels at it for a second, turning over the rough cloth in her hands a few times. Drops of crimson speckle the fabric slightly— the girl’s blood.
“Her blood stains the fabric.” The shadow states, then throws the piece of cloth back at the ogre. She turns over her shoulder, retreating to her position next to the other two shadows. “Track her scent. Find the girl— I don’t care how long it takes.”
The shortest shadow whistles and a troll sulks out from the darkness. “Try not to fuck it up this time.”
“We won’t be so forgiving if you do.” The second shadow threatens, venom laced in every word.
The ogre straightens, then raises his fist to cast a portal into the darkness.
He will not let them down. Not again.
After a few moments of convincing, Bloom takes the girl back to her apartment. She thinks sheltering this girl for a little while, at least until she can patch up her wounds and wait for someone to pick her up, is the best decision.
On the way, the girl tells Bloom about her life. Her name is Stella, and she claims to be the princess of a planet called Solaria. She leans a bit on Bloom as they trek back to the apartment, and Bloom is quick to reassure her that it’s only a few blocks away.
“All of this really reminds me of Magix.” Stella marvels, dipping her head back to view the full height of the New York skyscrapers.
“Is Magix like… a city, or something?” Bloom asks. Kiko trots faithfully at her side.
“Not just a city, it’s the city!” Stella chirps. “It’s the shopping hub of the Magic Dimension! It also has, like, the Magic Council building and some other important government stuff. But other than that, totally number one for shopping— well, right after Downtown Solaria of course.”
The way Stella speaks of her world is well, quite frankly magical to Bloom— it makes her want to go to Solaria and Magix and all of these places that Stella speaks so highly of and explore them. The amount of planets, kingdoms, and languages is enough to make Bloom’s head spin with questions. One question in particular: how is Stella speaking English? If she’s from a different planet with a different language, how is she able to communicate with Bloom?
“What language do you speak on Solaria?” Bloom asks.
“Oh! We speak Solarian— I’m actually speaking it right now! I’m wearing a language converter charm.” Stella chirps, raising her right wrist. At first, Bloom can’t see anything, until a barely-visible shimmering blue diamond appears right below her palm. It looks like it sits just under her skin. “You hear English, I hear Solarian. It’s super helpful, especially when you’re in Magix. Most people wear one.”
That makes the most sense out of everything Bloom’s heard today. From Stella’s description, the Magic Dimension is made up of many different planets and cultures. It makes a lot of sense to have a way for everyone to communicate with each other.
After a few blocks of walking, the girls arrive at Bloom’s apartment complex. She only lives on the third floor, but figures since they’re both injured, it would be easier to take the elevator up. Bloom presses the silver button and waits.
Stella looks visibly confused. “… what are you doing?”
Bloom raises an eyebrow, then remembers that Stella isn’t from Earth. She’s probably never seen an elevator before. “Just, uh, waiting for the elevator to come.”
“It doesn’t just… come when you tell it to?” Stella asks.
“Well, uh— it does, just not right away.” Bloom clarifies. “There’s a lot of floors here.”
“Hm.” Stella muses, and doesn’t ask any follow-up questions.
Once they board the elevator and arrive at Bloom’s apartment, she turns the key in the lock and pushes open the door. Kiko bounds in immediately, and Bloom assumes that he’s gone to find her mom.
“I’m home.” Bloom announces, leaving the scooter at the door. She tugs off her converse and leaves them haphazardly next to the shoe rack. Stella, following her example, slips off her heeled sandals and places them neatly atop the rack.
Her mom appears from around the corner and wipes her hands on her apron— Bloom assumes she’s been either cleaning or has just finished her earlier task of washing the dishes.
“Hi!” Stella chirps, stepping further inside the apartment. “Your, um… house is lovely. Totally chic interior design.”
Her mom raises an eyebrow, then starts with a confused tone. “… Bloom, I didn’t know you were bringing anyone over.” She glances to Stella, who is currently running her hand along the back of the couch and nodding approvingly.
Stella grins and lifts her head to make eye contact with Bloom’s mother. “Oh, introductions— silly me. Where are my manners? I’m Stella. Your daughter pretty much saved my life!”
The blonde’s words only increase her mother’s visible confusion. However, her mother isn’t angry— her eyes run over Stella’s figure in a motherly way. “Make yourself at home, Stella. Let us know if you need anything.”
Stella hums an okay and sits down on the couch as Bloom quickly grabs her mother by the shoulder. “Mom, can I, uh… talk to you for a second?”
Bloom glances back at Stella to see that she’s quickly occupied herself with leafing through the stack of magazines on the coffee table. The redhead guides her mother back towards the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Her mother asks in a hushed voice.
Bloom huffs out a sigh and brings a hand to her head. The thought of attempting to explain today’s events to her mother is already giving her a headache. “I met her in the park. She was being attacked, so I stepped in, and—”
“What happened to your leg?” Her mother asks, then leans in to sniff Bloom’s hair. “And why do you smell like a campfire?”
Bloom glances down at her wounded leg. She curses under her breath when she sees the missing fabric from her jeans. Her mother’s hands drift to her arm and the scrapes that cover it— remnants of when she’d been hurled across the clearing. Her mother turns over her shoulder and heads straight for the cabinet to the right of the fridge— her family’s designated medicine cabinet. From it, she pulls a bottle of peroxide and a box of Band-Aids. She pulls the roll of paper towels off of the holder on her way back over to Bloom.
“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” Bloom mutters, glancing down at her leg again to see a few small puncture wounds from the ghoul’s teeth. Well, maybe it isn’t just a scratch, but it’s nothing serious regardless.
“Honey, you need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Her mother says, tone pitching in worry.
“Seriously, it’s okay—” Bloom assures her.
As her mother is hurriedly looking her up and down, Stella marvels from the couch, “Is this what Earth fashion is like? Fascinating!”
Her mother squints, mouth falling open. “… Earth fashion?— Bloom, what is going on?”
Bloom takes a deep breath and holds her hands out in front of her. “This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to just go with it for a minute.”
Her mother nods hesitantly. Bloom steps out of the kitchen and to the couch. “Hey, Stella, can you show us that… thing you did earlier?”
Stella looks up from the magazine. “Oh, you mean my transformation? I don’t think I have enough energy to keep it up, but I think I can do something small.” She taps her index finger to her chin in thought, then points it at the coffee table. A blast of golden light hits the center of the coffee table, and when it fades, a blue vase and blue flowers sits in the center. “Cute, right?”
Bloom turns to look at her mother, who stands with her mouth open in shock.
Stella sets the magazine back down on the coffee table. “Don’t worry, Bloom! You’ll be able to do that too with some practice.”
“… Bloom, what is she talking about?” Her mother asks, eyebrows raised.
Bloom sighs. Well, so much for a simple explanation. She figures that Stella would be able to explain it far better than she could. As Bloom sits down on the other end of the couch, she gestures for Stella to keep talking. Her mother sits down on the coffee table, douses a paper towel in peroxide, and begins to dab at the scratch on Bloom’s arm.
“I’m a fairy! The fairy of the sun and moon, to be more specific. Bloom is a fairy too— not sure of what, though…” Stella muses, tapping her chin. Bloom waves a hand at Stella to signal her to continue speaking.
“As adorable as Earth is, I didn’t mean to end up here.” Stella states. “I was on my way to school from my home planet when I crash landed here.”
At a confused look from Bloom’s mother, she continues. “I’m from Solaria, a planet roughly about… forty or fifty light years away from here, give or take.”
“Light years? Like— like Star Wars?”
“It sounds a lot scarier than it actually is. It doesn’t actually take that long to travel there— we use portals for long distances and ships for small ones.” Stella explains, twisting the ring on her finger. “My portal cast must’ve misfired— probably that stinky ogre’s fault.”
Before Bloom’s mother has a chance to ask another question, Stella goes on. “And that’s where Bloom comes in! She found me and saved my life. Even fought off the bad guys with some blasts of her own magic!”
A stunned silence settles over the room. Her mother takes a deep breath before speaking. “… is this true?”
Bloom mirrors her mother’s breath and nods. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t we know about this?” Her mother asks, gently lifting her daughter’s calf onto the coffee table to tend to her injuries. “Wouldn’t it have shown up in your childhood, somewhere?”
“It’s not… totally out of this world.” Stella interjects gently. “That your magic hadn’t shown itself before. A fairy’s magic intensifies when she’s surrounded by other magic users. Since there aren’t any on Earth, it’s just been sitting there under the surface.”
Bloom thinks about what Stella had said earlier about all the Earth fairies being dead. It makes the feeling of anxiety run cold through her body.
Her mother nods. After she’s done with Bloom’s injuries, she douses a fresh paper towel in peroxide and starts to tend to Stella’s. From the look on her face, Bloom isn’t sure if her mother is believing what Stella is telling her, or if she’s just playing along. “What school were you going to when you ended up here? Is it a… magic school?”
“I was on my way to Alfea College— it’s only the best school for fairies in the whole Magic Dimension!” Stella says, then gasps as if she’s just had an idea, “Bloom! You should totally come!”
“Oh, I don’t know, Stella—” Bloom says.
“Registration is technically closed for the new term, but I can get my dad to pull some strings! He can totally get you in!” Stella expresses, then gasps with another thought, “Oh my stars! We can be roommates! I could just die imagining the color scheme—”
“Stella.” Bloom interjects, voice soft. “I can’t come. How would I pay for it? We can barely afford this apartment.”
It’s a sad statement, but true— it’s expensive to live here. There’s no way her parents would be able to afford Alfea’s tuition and their apartment. Bloom casts a glance toward her mother, and she’s met with the same sad expression that mirrors her own.
Stella smiles triumphantly, like she already knows the solution to Bloom’s problem. “You’re an Earth fairy, Bloom! There’s no way Faragonda— she’s the headmistress— would ever pass you up!”
A small sliver of hope sparks in Bloom’s chest. This could be a chance to start over— a fresh start in a new school. No worrying about Andy, or Mitzi, or Selina. She watches as Stella stands and pulls what looks to be a phone from her pocket.
“I can call my dad right now.” Stella says. “That way, we can make it official!”
“Wait, Stella—” Bloom’s mother holds out a hand in front of her, standing as well. “This sounds great and all, but I have to talk to Bloom’s father before any decisions are made.”
The sliver of hope that Bloom had previously gained is promptly shattered. There’s no way her dad will allow her to go to a different school— especially not one in another dimension. He won’t even let her ride an electric scooter.
At the look on her face, Bloom’s mother grabs her daughter by the shoulders. “Why don’t you show Stella to your room? She can stay the night. Dad gets back from the station in an hour or two, I’ll talk to him then.”
Bloom dreads the denial to come. She knows it’s inevitable, and would much rather her mother just flat-out deny her rather than providing false hope.
She groans as Stella pads over and grabs Bloom’s hand, yanking her to her feet and leading her in the direction of the hallway. As they turn the corner, Stella is already chattering on about room design and decorations as Kiko follows.
Bloom isn’t sure how Stella is still standing after all the exhaustion today. Not only standing, but managing to survey each part of Bloom’s bedroom like it’s a museum.
The blonde scans each section of the room, lifting trinkets and admiring items of clothing as Bloom watches from the doorway. She can’t help but feel a sudden onset of embarrassment caused by the clothes that litter her floor. If Stella is bothered in the slightest, she doesn’t show it. Instead, the blonde catches sight of the stack of Bloom’s drawings on the desk and heads straight for them.
As her slender fingers flit through the pages, she lets a small noise of admiration slip. “Did you draw these? Are you an artist?”
“No, I uh—” Bloom starts, walking behind Stella to sit down on the edge of the unmade bed. “I mean, yes, I drew them, but I don’t consider myself much of an artist.”
Stella raises her eyebrows at Bloom over her shoulder before returning to the drawings. “Oh, shush! These are great. You’re totally an artist.”
Bloom watches as Stella abandons the drawings and begins to look through her bookshelf instead. Her fingers dance across the spines of various books about history before landing on a salmon colored one. Bloom catches the name of the book as Stella opens to the middle of it, lettered neatly across the front in silver, sparkly cursive: The Fairy Kingdom. One of her childhood books— her mother must’ve placed it there without her knowing.
“Hm.” Stella muses, eyes scanning the pages, “It’s cute. Not very accurate, though.”
The blonde’s words causes Bloom to think about what she’d said earlier. An entire dimension, unknown to Earth, where fairies live. An entire school dedicated to teaching fairies.
“So… what’s Alfea like?” Bloom asks.
Stella shuts the book with a muted thud. She pads to the bed and sits neatly at Bloom’s side, book in her lap. “It’s great! It’s a huge castle in forest of Magix and all the best rising fairies go there. The teachers are super nice— well, I mean, I really wouldn’t get on Griselda’s bad side if I were you—”
The sound of voices echoes from the apartment’s hallway. From the sound of it, Bloom’s dad had come back early from the station and her mother had just initiated the conversation concerning today’s events. Initially hushed, the cadences and tones of their mixed voices gets louder, and sharper, which causes Stella to stand and close the bedroom door.
Bloom sighs as Stella watches her with kind eyes, back pressed to the door. “They don’t always fight like that.”
“Believe me,” Stella says, walking back to the bed and coming to a halt in front of Bloom. “I know a thing or two about parents fighting.”
Bloom means it, though— her parents hardly fight. They’re probably the happiest married couple Bloom’s ever seen— granted, the only other married couples she knows are her grandparents, so the bar isn’t entirely that high. She hates it when they argue, especially if it has to do with her.
Stella reaches a hand into her pocket and pulls something out. “Wanna see something cool?”
Bloom assumes that it’s going to be something to do with Stella’s ring again until she reels her hand back and there’s a small square within her grasp. It looks like a card— a shimmering, iridescent object that refracts the light as Stella turns it. “It’s a bottomless postcard! We can go see Alfea right now if you’d like.”
“Right… now?” Bloom asks, standing. “Like, right right now? How does that work?”
Wordlessly, Stella tosses the postcard to the bedroom floor. It immediately expands and glows a faint pink , almost like the portal she’d seen earlier. Stella takes a few steps towards the center of it and grins. “It’s magic, remember?”
At Bloom’s horror, Stella begins to sink into the postcard. She motions for Bloom to follow her, and Bloom wonders if she’s really losing it because she does so with zero hesitation. The feeling of being sucked through the floor and into a magic postcard is easily not one of Bloom’s favorites, so she’s relieved when her feet find solid ground once again. From the looks of it, they’d been dropped smack dab into the middle of an empty courtyard, a towering castle standing tall in front of them.
“Here we are!” Stella sings, “We can’t go inside, but the outside is just as good!”
It’s breathtaking. The castle seems to be made of some kind of special stone— one that barely reflects the sunlight in a haze of purple. Alongside the color, the castle is huge and curves around the courtyard in a “U” shape. It’s not like any castle Bloom’s ever seen before. She wants to explore every inch of it— though, Stella had said that they can only view the outside. Bloom ponders the statement for a minute, before reasoning that magic is confusing and there won’t be a sensical explanation for it, no matter how hard she tries.
“My dad will probably send the ship tomorrow morning.” Stella mentions, eyes drifting across the castle.
Bloom thinks over their earlier conversation in confusion. Portals for long distances, ships for short, right? Hadn’t Stella mentioned something about lightyears earlier? “Isn’t… Earth a little far for a ship to travel to?”
“Oh— he’ll send the ship through a portal.” Stella shakes her head, eyes shut as she rectifies. “Sorry. I forget not everyone knows all of this.”
She feels stupid, in a sense. Not that Stella has made her feel that way thus far, but because there’s so much to this world that Bloom has no idea about. It’s all confusing and Bloom wishes she had an instruction manual of some kind— The Magic Dimension for Dummies. She could really use one right now.
“You ready, Bloom?” Stella asks, and Bloom realizes that she’s been staring at the same patch of brick for a few minutes straight. She nods, watching as Stella jumps back through the portal. Bloom isn’t sure she can even jump that high, but it’s not as high as she thought as she rises up through the postcard behind Stella.
As her feet find the solid wood of her bedroom floor again, Stella bends down to retrieve the postcard. Bloom opens her mouth to say something, but is caught off guard when the floor begins to shake.
Thud. Thud. It’s muted, barely there, and Bloom thinks she’s imagining it until she locks eyes with Stella— and she shares the same concerned expression.
Immediately, Bloom senses danger. She rushes to the living room, past both of her parents, to glance through the open window behind the couch.
“Stella? What’s going on?” Her mother asks, to which Stella casts a glance over her shoulder to Bloom. Her father stands in the middle of the room, arms held out on either side like he’s bracing for impact, confused. Bloom catches sight of a familiar yellow head through the limited view of the window.
“It’s the ogre.” Bloom mutters, turning over her shoulder to look at Stella. “What do we do?”
A second, more intense shake. Stella curses under her breath and presses a few buttons on her phone before transforming back into her fairy form in a blaze of shimmering light. She heads for the door, shouting to Bloom over her shoulder, “grab a weapon!”
A weapon? Where is she supposed to acquire one? As far as Bloom is aware, her father doesn’t own a gun, and her New York City apartment doesn’t exactly have a wide selection of weapons to choose from. Think practical, Bloom reminds herself as she searches the kitchen in a moment of panic. Bloom settles on one of her mother’s hanging frying pans before leaving hastily after Stella. Kiko joins her in hurrying down the stairs.
When Bloom arrives at the entrance of the apartment building, she sees that the door has been ripped clean from its hinges. The surrounding brick has been torn apart as well, leaving debris scattered across the lobby floor. Through the large hole in the wall, Bloom can see Stella fighting in the air, blasting at and darting around two figures— the ogre from before, and a second, larger blue ogre with black hair. Bloom watches on as the blue one swings at Stella and misses. Kiko, who stands protectively in front of her, starts to growl again. A horde of seven ghouls from before creep out from behind the corner and Bloom raises the frying pan threateningly above her head.
“Stella!” Bloom calls, backing slightly as the ghouls approach. “I’m gonna try to lead them away from the building. Can you do the same?”
Stella’s response is muffled, but Bloom interprets it as an affirmative one. She takes the opportunity to dart out between a hole in the ghouls’ formation, smacking one of them with the pan as she does. She probably looks like an idiot to any potential onlookers— sprinting, dog at her side, frying pan clutched in her hands, horde of dogs from hell scampering after her. After running what she assumes to be an adequate distance away from the building, Bloom turns to attack. She swings the pan, grunting with effort as it collides with one and turns it straight to dust. Kiko clamps his teeth down on one of the ghouls’ necks and shakes his head vigorously.
As a second one approaches Bloom, she decides that she’s going to try to summon her powers. She’s doubtful, incredibly so, but why wouldn’t she be able to? She’d summoned them earlier that day in an identical situation as this one, so why wouldn’t she be able to do it now?
Focus, she tells herself. Get it together.
Her chest heaves with breaths as she tries to hone in on the feeling from earlier. It starts small like it had before, like a tiny ball in her chest. As she focuses on the anger and her breath quickens, she watches as her hand extends and a blast of power shoots from her palm. It collides with the ghoul and it explodes.
Now down to three ghouls between her and Kiko, Bloom feels pride surge in her chest. She’s really doing it. Though, she has to remind herself that the fight isn’t over yet. She and Stella are both fighting to keep the ogres and the ghouls away.
Speaking of Stella, where is she? Bloom raises her glance for a quick second to see that she’s in the total opposite direction of where Bloom had gone, but still far enough away from the building. A noise, sounding almost like a rocket taking off, echoes from Stella’s direction. Bloom isn’t sure what it is due to her shielded view, but she can tell that something huge has just landed on the other side of the building. She hopes it isn’t another threat— she’s not sure how much longer she can fight.
Bloom looks back down to the ghouls. She raises her hand again at one as Kiko latches onto another. Like before, a blast of power shoots from Bloom’s palm and hits the ghoul square in the face. Both ghouls evaporate into a cloud of dust, leaving only one ghoul left.
She’s got this. She can do this. Just one more, and this part of the fight is over.
As Bloom raises her hand to kill the final ghoul, a blade slashes through it. Her gaze snaps up to find the blade’s owner: a boy, blond, looking otherworldly like Stella had when they met earlier that day. Based on the weapon alone, it’s clear that he isn’t from Earth. He’s standing there, smiling in a way that makes frustration bubble up in her chest.
Bloom huffs out a breath, eyes widening in surprise when smoke rises from her nostrils like a dragon. She glances down to the pan in her left hand to see that she’d practically melted it in all the commotion. Her mother is not going to be happy about that.
Bloom inhales deeply before speaking. “I had it under control.”
The boy gapes. It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting that response from her. His eyes flick down to the melted pan in her hand, then back up to her nostrils, where the smoke is still dissipating. His eyebrows crinkle in a way that makes Bloom want to punch him in the face. He laughs a bit— most likely in disbelief at Bloom’s lack of a thank you— and retracts the blade.
“Hey! Bloom!” Stella calls, now standing on the ground, a brown haired boy at her side. The two ogres have been tied up by some kind of glowing rope. “Come here!”
She barely spares the boy a glance before treading in Stella’s direction. A dull thunking of boots on pavement from behind her tells her that this boy is following. Great— probably on his way to take credit for all the work she’d done.
“I called backup.” Stella chirps, arms crossed as she beams at the boy next to her. “Bloom, meet the Specialists! Timmy, Riven, Brandon, and Prince Sky.” Each boy waves at the mention of his name— Bloom gathers that Timmy is the redhead with glasses, Riven is the brooding one with purple hair, Prince Sky is the brown haired boy, and Brandon is the annoying blond from earlier. “Everyone, this is Bloom. She’s a new fairy!”
Bloom offers a small wave at the boys’ greetings and drops the melted frying pan. She rolls her sore shoulder a few times over. Yep— she’d definitely pulled something while swinging it. Exhaustion creeps into her bones and settles over her like molasses— she’s not sure if it’s because of the fact that she’s not used to using her powers yet, or just plain overexertion from the day. The boys and Stella are having a conversation that she’s half-listening to as she tries to catch her breath. Timmy mentions something about needing to get the ogres back to some place called Red Fountain, which causes Brandon and Prince Sky to walk back towards their ship with a brief goodbye.
“Are you okay?” Stella asks, after they both watched the boys’ ship zip through a portal and disappear.
“I’m good.” Bloom confirms with a small smile, glancing at Stella. “You?”
“I’m exhausted!” Stella exclaims, arms shooting above her head in dramatic flair. Bloom laughs, and as she turns to re-enter the apartment building, sees her parents standing near the hole in the wall. Her smile falters. They’d definitely seen the whole thing— if they didn’t believe her before, they were sure to believe her now.
Her father looks bewildered, as expected, while her mother rushes forwards and engulfs her into a hug. “How are you? Are you hurt? That was terrifying.”
“I’m alright, mom.” Bloom says, laughing slightly as her mother smooths down her ruffled auburn waves. “Seriously. I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
After embracing her own daughter, Bloom’s mother rushes to Stella and takes her into her arms as well. “How about you, Stella? Are you okay?”
Stella laughs an affirmation as Bloom turns to face her father. She takes a few hesitant steps in his direction, before he surges forwards and wraps his arms around her. A small noise of surprise escapes Bloom’s lips before she returns the hug.
“Did that… really happen?“ Her father wavers.
Bloom nods as best she can in the embrace. “Trust me, I didn’t want to believe it either, but—”
Her father pulls back, hands on either side of his daughter’s shoulders. “And you’re sure that this is what you want?”
Right— for a second, in all of the commotion, she’d forgotten somehow. Alfea. Moving to an entirely different planet, being thrown into this new world that she’d only found out about a few hours prior. Having to adjust to being a fairy, and learning to control her newfound powers.
A new start. Something like this is good, she thinks. Especially after what had happened.
Bloom turns over her shoulder to see Stella and her mother walking towards her. Stella has de-transformed, now back in the tank top and shorts she’d been wearing earlier. She’s beaming at Bloom, clearly having heard her father’s words.
She turns back to look at her father again and nods. “Yeah— this is what I want.”
Her mother’s arm drifts around her father’s waist as Stella grabs both of Bloom’s hands and starts to jump and giggle in celebration. Over and over again, it surprises Bloom how much energy Stella has, even after fighting for as long as she did.
“We can be roommates! Oh my stars, I’m so excited! Come on, let’s go pack! We’re leaving in the morning!” Stella squeals, tugging Bloom by the hands and back up the apartment’s stairs.
Stella sifts through Bloom’s closet like she’s on a mission.
The blonde takes clothes off of hangers and out of drawers, sorting them into two piles based on if she approves them or not. A light blue tank top with a flower pattern near the hem? Stella nods approvingly, setting it down gently on Bloom’s desk chair. An old paint-stained summer camp t-shirt from eighth grade? Stella makes an audible sound of disgust and tosses it over her shoulder.
“Another pair of jeans? How much denim do you own?” Stella asks, pulling a pair of jeans from the back of the closet that’s more holes than fabric. She again tosses the item of clothing over her shoulder and hits Bloom where she’s sitting on the ground.
The redhead makes an oof sound as the denim collides with her face and chucks it towards the far end of the room. “Is all this really necessary? I don’t even think my suitcase is big enough for all of this.”
Stella glances to the other end of the closet, where her battered suitcase sits, half-concealed. From its position, Bloom is barely able to make out the sewn-on patches that cover the holes and provide a personal touch. Stella pulls it from the closet by the handle and studies it like she’s trying to solve a math equation.
“Hm…” The blonde verbalizes, crouching down to yank the zipper open. The lining on the inside is a navy color, like the outside, and partly torn near the seam. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can make it work. Good thing you’ve got the best luggage packer in all the Magic Dimension!”
Bloom chuckles as Stella lays the suitcase on its back and starts to fill it with clothing. It’s not going to be hard to fit everything, because she really doesn’t own that much clothing in the first place. Bloom isn’t ashamed about it— not in the slightest. She’s got two good pairs of jeans and a handful of tops, and that works for her. Someone like Mitzi would gag at the thought of being an outfit repeater.
As Stella meticulously arranges and rearranges clothing, Bloom has to remind herself that Stella is a literal princess. Her closet is probably ten times the size of Bloom’s entire apartment, with shoes and matching jewelry to boot. Hell, she’s probably got a separate closet just for accessories. Bloom wonders what it must be like.
Stella stands, confusion evident on her face as she scours Bloom’s closet for a second time. “Where are your dresses?”
Dresses? Right. Stella probably wears them all the time, being a princess and all. Bloom can’t recall the last time she’d worn a dress, or heels for that matter.
“I, uh…” Bloom starts, pulling her knees further to her chest. “I don’t have any.”
Stella gapes at her like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. She shuts the closet doors, obviously done with her search, and crouches again to zip the suitcase shut. “Well, we’re going to change that. The minute we’re done moving in, I’m taking you shopping! My treat.”
“You really don’t have to do that, you know—”
“Oh, shush.” Stella jests, standing back to her full height with a grin on her face. “What are friends for?”
Bloom can’t help the guilt that creeps in at the blonde’s offer. Stella had already done so much for her in the short time they’d known each other— saved her from monsters twice, taken her under her wing and showed her what the life she was meant to live could look like. Bloom can’t offer her anything in return. The last thing she wants to do is be a burden to her new friend.
Stella pulls her cellphone from her back pocket and her eyes widen at the time. “Looks like it’s bedtime! I’m going to need my eight hours of beauty sleep before move-in tomorrow!”
Bloom stands, stretching her arms above her head. “Do you need clothes to sleep in? I think I probably have—”
With a poof, Stella’s clothes change. A ribbon of shimmering light starts at her feet, then weaves and wraps its way up her body and dissipates. In place of her shorts and tank top is a salmon-colored silk pajama set with orange feathers sewn onto the sleeves. It’s extravagant and expensive looking, and Bloom notices a name embroidered over the right breast in sparkling orange thread: Princess Stella.
“I’m all set!” Stella beams, and when she finally looks back to the blonde’s face, Bloom notices that she’s got a matching eye mask sitting on her hairline. “Thanks, though. You’re sweet.”
Bloom doesn’t reply— instead, she gives a small smile and gathers up her own pajamas that she’d worn the night before from the bed. They’re casual— plaid men’s boxers that serve as pajama shorts and a thrifted Spider-Man t-shirt— and certainly nothing like Stella’s, but comfortable anyways. She tucks the pajamas underneath her arm and treads off towards the door and down the hall to the bathroom.
As she shuts the wooden door behind her, a sigh escapes her parted lips. A feeling, equal parts excitement and anxiety, flutters in her stomach at the thought of what tomorrow brings.