The townhouse was in a nicer part of Magix. Not where the mansions that were the second homes of royalty were, but still in an affluent area where every house had a back garden. It was part of a terrace built from yellow bricks with clay-red roof tiles, and ornate chimney pots in the same colour. The front face was full of casement windows, and some were open on the ground floor to let the air circulate. On the red painted front door hung a polished metal number ninety-six just above a cast-iron knocker shaped like a lion's head.

It had three floors not including a basement and an attic, as did the houses either side of it. Whoever designed this terrace was a fan of stairs.
Bloom double checked the address on the piece of paper Faragonda had given her. It looked like she was in the right place but that still didn't make her feel confident about going up to the door. She might have abandoned the idea of coming to see this woman altogether if she hadn't been told that Brighid was expecting her.

She took a deep breath and walked up the short path from the pavement to the door. Bloom didn't let herself think as she grasped the lion's head. She was pretty sure that avoiding all thought to deal with her anxiety was bound to cause problems later, but she didn't have another option right now besides running away in shame.

The door opened slightly and Bloom met eyes with a large man with a head of thick, messy hair and a full, wild-looking beard. He smiled awkwardly at her as he peered around.

"I'm here to see Brighid?" She said, making it a question just in case she had got the wrong house somehow.

"Ah," the man exhaled, his smile becoming more genuine as he opened the door fully. "You're here to see my ma then. Come in." He wasn't just a big man, he was huge. Bloom had to guess that he was almost seven feet tall and even though he was muscular he wasn't particularly lean. He wore unfashionable dark, loose fitting clothes and had to stoop whenever they passed a light fitting.

Bloom followed as he walked down a small hallway and to the base of a staircase. As they climbed, she could see there was a extra rail all the way up that. When she touched it gave her a sense of weightlessness as she ascended the stairs.

"You'll have to excuse her a little, she's not as energetic as she used to be," the man said and she nodded.

They were only going up to the first floor and Bloom was shown into a living room where an elderly lady was resting on an armchair of red velvet with gold embroidery along the edges. The woman looked tiny in comparison to the man who had let Bloom in. She was short and thin, and her orange floral print dress was conservative with puffy sleeves and a skirt that reached all the way down to the floor. The room had been designed to be comfortable and accommodating to the old woman and yet her eyes were piercing. Bloom felt like she was being surveyed and her palms started to sweat.

Brighid pushed a small pair of glasses up her nose and tucked a strand of grey hair that had escaped its bun behind her ear. Her son came over to her with his lips puckered and she presented him with a wrinkly cheek to kiss.

"This is my son, Dagda," she said and gave him a mock-reproachful look. "I know he won't have introduced himself yet. I am Brighid and you are Bloom."

"Yes, I'm pleased to meet you." Bloom held her hands in front of herself and stood awkwardly.

"Well? Help yourself to a seat my dear, there are plenty to go around," Brighid said as she gestured to the sofas and chairs around the room that matched her own. Bloom sat down on one opposite the old woman, very aware that she was still wearing her shoes despite the luxurious carpet. Dagda sat on the floor close to his mother and got out what looked like a sketching pad and pencils. "Faragonda sent you to me. I will try to answer any questions that you have."

"Yes, she did. I'm doing a project on Domino and…"

"Sparks or Domino?"

"I'm sorry?"

"There's no need to be," said Brighid and she absentmindedly patted the head of her son. "Sparks or Domino?"

"I thought they were the same?" Bloom was going red. She hadn't been expecting their meeting to go like this.

"They are the same planet, dear, but there is a difference. Sparks is the culture of the planet, its history, its people. Domino is the idea of what we could make out of the frozen rock it became." Brighid reached over to the little table next to her chair to pick up a small bell and ring it. "What refreshment would you like?"

Bloom opened her mouth to reply that she didn't want anything, but got the distinct impression that that would annoy her host and instead requested some juice. A maid appeared and collected the soiled cup and saucer next to the bell as well as the order for food that Brighid had for her.

"I guess," Bloom said when the attention returned to her. "I guess I want to know about Domino, although I do also have an interest in Sparks."

"Ah, so you like disasters and foolish royalty I see." The way Brighid's eyes crinkled at the edges led Bloom to believe she meant that as tongue-in-cheek. "It's a good story, although not one with a happy ending. I'm sure you've heard of King Oritel and Queen Marion Company of Light."

"Yes."

"Well they not only took all of the fine young fairies and warriors but many of the civilians as well. So many people who had built a life for themselves, on Magix, in other dimensions. Oritel sold them a tale of limitless glory and honour to be reclaimed…" Brighid trailed off. "I knew him and he gave me every indication that he believed that too. His father had been pumping his head full of that nonsense since he was a little boy so there really was no stopping it."

"Were you friends?" Bloom got the impression that there had been some sort of relationship between the King and this woman but she didn't understand what kind. Brighid laughed.

"I suppose we were, or, as close as a would-be King could get to someone who eschews the idea of a monarchy. I'm a republican, you see," Brighid said. "I never was one for the passing on of hereditary power. Just look at Eraklyon and how its people are suffering."

"What's wrong on Eraklyon?" Bloom had only heard a bit from Sky and Brandon and, while they didn't seem to have a high opinion of their king he was still Sky's father and heh probably didn't like his family spoken about like this.

"I'm sure you've heard of Yoshinoya and his terrorist group?"

"A little, yes."

"Well one could argue that if Erendor listened to the concern of his own people and stopped systematically persecuting select groups of citizens there wouldn't be calls for his death or deposition…" Brighid raised an eyebrow. "The point of a king is to lead and answer to his people, but historically that has not gone well. We have better methods of governance now, although not perfect."

Bloom was shocked by her candour but didn't say anything because she was still processing what felt like sympathy towards the people that wanted to kill Sky. She hadn't really had any experience of monarchies on Earth.

"I apologise. I'm rambling again," Brighid said as the maid returned with refreshments, putting a tray of sandwiches down on the coffee table in front of Bloom. "Is there another question you have for me?"

"Oh, er, yeah. I wanted to know about Daphne?"

"Daphne? Oh yes, she was Oritel and Marion's first daughter, a very bright girl. I thought she should have really gone to Cloud Tower and not Alfea but Faragonda has always been very opinionated… oh bless!" Brighid started laughing, presumably at the horrified face Bloom was making. "I bet she didn't tell you that I wasn't a fairy!"

"No."

"Well, I know there's been issues between the two schools, fanned and fuelled by Griffin I bet," she said and her scornful face spoke volumes. "But there's nothing inherently evil about witches or inherently superior about fairies."

"I do know that," Bloom interjected. "But you're right, the Cloud Tower students have been very aggressive."

"It didn't used to be that way," Brighid sighed. "It used to be that fairies and witches would frequently work together. There were misunderstandings all the time, of course, but it didn't devolve into violence if someone took offence to a look. I was offered the position of headmistress there, you know. And let me tell you, those three girls who got expelled wouldn't have ended up that way under me. They never would have had a chance to escalate it that far; attacking people while they sleep is inexcusable."

From the stern look on Brighid's face, Bloom believed her. The Trix had had it easy with Faragonda beating them back to Cloud Tower and its headmistress, if the alternative would have been crossing this old lady. Bloom would rather take an irate Faragonda on a bad day than come close to antagonising Brighid out of her plush armchair.

It had been all over the school that Griffin hadn't even let them back into Cloud Tower when they returned. They'd had to wait out in the rain while their belongings were dumped outside for them.

"Not much I can do about it now," Brigid said with a sigh, and then seemed to remember that she hadn't answered Bloom's initial question. "But Daphne. Don't let me run away with myself all the time, otherwise we'll never get to the point."

"Oh, sorry."

"That poor girl had the weight of the world on her shoulders," Brighid continued. "Pushed to achieve the best in everything and having to be the perfect princess without even having a country.

"Then her parents decide to spawn a second sprog of course and Daphne becomes a babysitter too since the royal couple are very busy trying to retake a whole world. That girl became a Nymph of Magix, the heir apparent, and the first fairy to achieve Sirenix power in over a millennium with baby sister on hip… what a witch she would have made." Brighid looked wistful.

"What's Sirenix?" It sounded vaguely like that Enchantix thing Palladium had told her about but she didn't know much about that either.

"Fairies have multiple forms, and some are more powerful or more specialised than others. The more powerful and specialised they are, the bigger the effort and sacrifice it takes to achieve it. Sirenix is a dedicated underwater form, and is a prerequisite for accessing a dimension called the infinite ocean. You won't ever come across it, something went wrong and the power that bestows Sirenix cursed her so that even in death her spirit can't find rest."

"That can happen?"

"With enough dark magic, dear, anything would happen. I don't know how it happened in this case but I would guess it was part of the trap left behind. It would have taken an inordinately powerful witch to cast that hex. I know because even I couldn't break it." Brighid shook her head regretfully, "That girl's life had barely begun. I suppose her baby sister had it worse, could barely string sentences together when she died."

"So Domino is gone forever?" The idea hurt Bloom; she didn't want to believe that the connection she had made with the core of the planet was over before it really began.

"I'm afraid so. There's no royal line to rally the people - and if monarchs are good for anything its instilling nationalism - and the last holder of the Dragon Flame died without passing it on so there's no magic to fight the curses anyway."

"So the Dragon Flame is real? I've heard conflicting stories about that." A lot of the books she could find definitely seemed to think that it was entirely made up.

"It has been a close kept secret since Sparks was attacked. Many of us, Oritel and myself included, believe that the reason the Ancestral Witches descended on the planet was to capture it. It had been passed down from fairy to fairy during the heyday of Sparks and after its apocalypse, the last holder of the Flame was Rose, Daphne's younger sister."

"That's why they took the baby with them? Because they needed her power?" Bloom was absolutely baffled by this incredibly unsound plan. "And why give it to her, especially if Daphne was so accomplished? How is a baby supposed to help in a fight?!"

Bloom was getting ahead of herself, her voice growing louder and making Dagda flinch. Brighid raised a hand at her calmly and she quieted down.

"The ritual that passes it over only works up to a certain age. If not I would have told Marion to take it," Brighid said. "She was an amazing warrior and spell caster, a Nymph of Magix too before she married - totally overshadowed by her daughter, if you wanted my opinion, but I liked her."

"And none of them came back…"

"That's not quite true." Bloom looked up sharply at Brighid.

"What?"

"Hagen, Oritel's sword-smith returned. But he retreated to a fortress in the mountains on Orez and the old git hasn't said a word on what happened the entire time… told me to 'fuck off' when I tried to contact him." Brighid glared angrily at her tea cup.

"If you don't mind me asking… why didn't you go with them?" Brighid's face darkened and Bloom recoiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude…"

"You weren't." Brighid waved her hand in the girl's direction. "I said I would answer anything you asked and I intend to. There were many reasons I didn't return with them despite my power and capabilities.

"Firstly, I thought it was reckless and foolish and going would have given it credence." She stopped and took a deep breath, her hand reaching out to pat the head of her son. "But also things at home were very rough for us."

"Sorry, Ma," Dagda said, a mournful look on his face. "If I wasn't so slow I could have looked after Morgan's children instead of you. Maybe she'd still be here too…"

"Don't call yourself that," she said sternly. "You aren't slow, you're just different… And there's no point talking about what ifs now, it won't bring her back." Brighid smiled sadly.

"Who is…?" Bloom didn't want to finish the question but couldn't stop herself from asking.

"My daughter. Morgan was my daughter, Dagda's sister, and the mother of my three beautiful grandchildren. I buried her six months before they left." Brighid's hand clenched around the armrest of her chair. "I took her children in because it was their father who killed her, beat her brains out with a sodding brick. I knew she was in trouble but I waited to get her out of that situation, and I waited too long. I failed as her mother and now she's dead."

Bloom didn't know what to say. What could you say to someone who's child had died so horribly? Was there even anything but platitudes at this point? She wished Faragonda had told her more about the woman she was going to see so she could expect this kind of thing.

"Another reason I couldn't go with them is that I was, and still am, under house arrest." Brighid lifted the skirt of her dress to reveal a golden ankle bracelet. "It's a shame my grandchildren don't have either parent anymore, and could only see their father in a hospital bed if they ever wanted to visit him, but I don't regret what I did even one bit." The vicious smile on the witch's face told Bloom everything she needed to know. She really didn't want any more detail on what had happened to Brighid's son-in-law. She could imagine that it was particularly horrible.

"I've rambled on about myself for too long," Brighid said, dropping the hem of her dress back to the floor and straightening up. "I told you not to let me do that. Come on, tell me about yourself before I answer another question. Faragonda says you are from Earth, I didn't think there were any fairies left on that old rock."

"I am, but I'm adopted," Bloom said. "I have no idea who my biological parents were or where they came from. I tried to find out about them recently but… that didn't go so well." Her head was still filled with the sketched image of Liliss, she could still taste that awful bile in that back of her throat and she had to repeat to herself that it wasn't real to stop herself from falling into despair.

"I wish you luck with your search," she said. "But it is worth remembering that you are not your parents. Not your biological or your adopted parents. They will have influenced you, of course, but your identity is entirely separate to them, no matter who they turn out to be, you are Bloom and not them."

"I know. I think I'll always see my parents on Earth as my real family, but I want to know where I got my powers from," Bloom said. There was a whole part of her that she didn't understand because its origins were kept from her.

"Our culture and our heritage are important parts of who we are," Brighid agreed. "But you should know that often bloodlines have little to do with our magic."

"What do you mean?" A lot of the other fairies at Alfea came from prestigious families filled with magic and power.

"Don't tell Faragonda I said any of this, her school does build its reputation on training the more distinguished fairies, but parenthood means diddly-squat. Look at me - I am one of the most powerful witches of my time and neither of my kids had even a lick of magic between them." Brighid laughed. "But quite often the princesses, the duchesses-to-be, the only reason they've got to the level they're at is because their families had the resources to train them up to Alfea's standards. The saying is true - 'hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard', but it's easier to work hard if you're not worrying about food or a roof over your head and you have the finest tutor money can buy making sure you can pass an entrance exam. I'm sure you know fairies that were heavily coached and I'm sure you know others that are only at Alfea because they were talented enough and able to grafted hard to claw their way in."

She was right; Bloom could compare Stella and her attitude to Musa and Flora. The princess of Solaria was used to coasting, and was taking her first year for the second time while those two were working every moment they had to make sure they got the best out of their education.

"Yes," she agreed. "I do."

"I'm not saying that those girls with their tutors don't deserve to be there. They've still put in the work even if they had a leg up. But what I am saying is that the narrative that the royal families are in power, and deserve to be, because they have the most magic is a facist one and it needs to die. Do have a sandwich darling," Brighid added and Bloom took one obediently. It was egg mayonnaise.

"Is it very different in Cloud Tower?" she asked after she'd chewed and swallowed a few mouthfuls.

"Oh yes," Brighid nodded. "Mostly because witchcraft has always been rather anti-establishment so royalty has never really sent their daughters off to study it. Some students come from money but not as many as you'd think, mostly the school survives off government funding, alumni donations and financial shenanigans with banks."
Brighid was not finished with her speech on Cloud Tower and its solvency, but Dagda was trying to get her attention by tugging on her oversized sleeve. She stopped so that he could whisper something to her and she bent over a little so that she could see his sketchpad.

"That's beautiful, love," she said with pride. "But you really must ask before you draw someone, we have talked about this." Dagda hung his head and turned the pad over shyly so Bloom could see what he had sketched.

He'd managed to portray her accurately. The drawing of her seemed full of life and he'd somehow managed to capture the movement of her hair. He was a talented artist, easily the best Bloom had ever seen outside of galleries.

"Would you like it?" He offered. Bloom reached over to take it and smiled.

"I'd love it, I'll hang it on my wall."

I'll get you a frame," Dagda said excitedly and got up to hurry up another flight of stairs. His mother watched him go fondly.

"When the doctors first diagnosed him a lot of people tried to give me condolences," she shook her head. "And while it is hard to have a disabled child, he's so sweet and earnest that for as much trouble he's given me over the years he's been twice as joyful."

"What's his disability?"

"The Changeling Affliction, dear," Brighid said. "And he has some learning difficulties. They said he wouldn't ever grow past the mind of a seven year old but he has proven them wrong. He might not be totally independent but he can keep himself clean, he can feed himself, even make a few simple recipes, and I can trust him with a small allowance." She swelled with pride.

"That's good," Bloom said. It was a little uncomfortable to talk about and not just because he had only left the room a minute or so ago.

"I hope he hasn't made you feel uneasy. He doesn't always understand his size and he likes being affectionate… some girls are understandably scared if he wants a hug," she gave Bloom an apologetic smile.

"No, he's been lovely to me. Hasn't tried to touch me or anything."

"Good, it's been a battle to get him to understand he has to ask before a cuddle, and that if they say 'no' he has to respect that." Brighid shook her head.

"He doesn't get that not everyone wants one," Bloom nodded.

"Or that not everyone gets that that's all he's trying to do." Brighid winced. "Doesn't help that he feels very rejected if they don't want a hug. Did you find one dear?" Dagda was back and nodded his head, offering Bloom a wooden frame that would fit the sketch inside.

"Thank you," she said and opened up the back so that she could put it in. "I'll show my dorm when I get back."

"Do you have a good group of friends?" Brighid asked as her son came to sit next to her again.

"Yeah," Bloom smiled. "I really do. And only one of them is a princess." Brighid laughed at that.

"If this withered old lady can give you three pieces of advice they would be that every decision you make you have to live with forever, life is much better when you have friends to share it with, and wear sunscreen even if you don't think it's that sunny out."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," Bloom laughed. "My friends are amazing. I'm so glad I was able to meet them."

"They'll be important for supporting you through your learning and for using magic. For all witches talk about self-sufficiency and independence, covens and the support they provide are crucial to the success of any witch, and any magic user for that matter."

"Did you have a coven?"

"I did, and I've outlived every single one of those crones!" Brighid laughed. "Before they left, Marion blessed me with a promise that I would live to see the day Domino was restored. I believe that makes me functionally immortal." She looked like she was only half joking.

Bloom could absolutely imagine the old woman outliving many people, perhaps even Bloom herself.

"I'm glad you came over, dear," Brighid said. "But while I may live forever, I still get tired and I think I am in need of my bed."

"Of course," Bloom stood up, framed sketch still in hand. "It's been really great to be able to talk to you."

"Likewise," Brighid nodded. "I do hope you'll come back if you think of anything else or just want to talk to a decrepit old woman. I know you will be very busy though. Martha!" She rang her bell again and the maid came to show Bloom out while Dagda helped his mother upstairs to her bedroom.