"Good morning!"

Micah burst into Fantastic Flowers with his usual gusto—much to the alarm and annoyance of Wells, but to the joy of Shara and Monica.

"Welcome, Micah," Shara said, placing some seed bags behind the counter. "How can I hel—"

"Micah!" Monica shouted, drowning out her sister. She ran up to him with her arms widely outstretched and jumped into him, squeezing him tightly as her head connected solidly with his abdomen. "You didn't forget, did you? We're still going, right?" Micah gently stroked her head, a pained smile on his face as he desperately tried to recover his composure, the wind having been knocked completely out of him.

"Of course," he said weakly. "After three, right? I should be done with my farmwork by then." Monica smiled brightly at him as she clung to his waist.

"Great! I'm going to make a snack for us, so don't eat first, okay? I'll be waiting in the flower fields!" Micah nodded as Monica ran excitedly out the door. He limped over to the counter and leaned heavily against it. Shara simply giggled to herself at the sight.

"Are you starting to miss the days when she would just bite you?" she asked, an amused look on her face. Micah looked up at her with an indignant expression.

"Just give me a dozen bags of Cherry Grass seeds, please." Shara gathered the bags together as Micah took out his wallet, pulling a few coins out and dropping them on the counter. He had been here enough times to know what everything cost, so he simply waited for her to place the materials on the counter. As Shara began stacking the seed bags, she paused, an unnerving thought suddenly gripping her. Micah looked up at her curiously, but she resumed placing the bags down as if coming out of a reverie.

"Sorry," she said, "I guess I'm a little distracted. Um," she added, counting up Micah's coins, "this looks like everything. Have a great day!" She watched distractedly as Micah gathered up the bags and waved as he walked out of the shop, her mind spinning in unhappy circles. Although she had to mind the store for the rest of the morning, she knew that her sister would have to be back before the afternoon. She could talk to her then.

As expected, Monica came back into the flower shop around noon, calling excitedly to Wells for her lunch as she set a bagful of groceries down and began sorting them on the counter, humming excitedly to herself. Shara watched her carefully as she pulled the ingredients out of the shopping bag: flour; chocolate; eggs; milk. Shara didn't know where she had gotten the money for these ingredients (although she heavily suspected her doting grandfather had been involved), but she could tell from them what Monica was intending to make. She was ready to put a stop to it when her sister came up to her with an excited expression.

"Shara," Monica said, a sweet and pleading look on her face, "can you show me how to make chocolate cake?" Shara sighed heavily. How could she say no now?

"Alright," she said, Monica's face brightening. "But we're missing the sugar. Did you make sure you told Hazel everything you needed?"

"Well…" Monica said slowly, "I think I did, but Hazel wasn't watching the store when I picked them up." Shara just shook her head. Karina.

"Alright," she said, patting her sister's head, "I'll go get the sugar. There's a recipe for chocolate cake in the kitchen; just ask grandpa to help and you can start making the dough without me."

Monica smiled brightly at Shara as she walked out of the flower shop and headed down the street. Things had quickly spun out of her control, but maybe Karina would have some idea of how to handle them. After all, as much as it pained her to admit it, Karina was in the same boat as her: though she tried to cover it up, she was also infatuated with Micah. The very thought of asking a love rival how to pry their mutual crush away from the grasp of her own sister was a horribly confusing and awkward one, but perhaps Karina would see something that Shara didn't.

"Welco—" Karina sleepily started, then immediately stopped as she realized the individual entering the shop wasn't a customer. "Ah, Shara. What's up?" Karina laid her head back down on the counter as Shara walked up to her, a severe expression on her face.

"You didn't give Monica her sugar," Shara said. Karina looked up in surprise, her eyes nearly opening fully.

"Ah," she said, looking behind her, "I didn't. I'm sorry. Are you really that mad about it?" Shara realized suddenly that she appeared more cross than she had thought and relaxed her expression as Karina placed the bag of sugar on the counter.

"Sorry, Karina, I'm just…thinking about something else." Karina's eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened up. She knew there had been something weird about Monica's order, and this all but confirmed it.

"It's about Micah," she accidentally said out loud as she thought to herself. Her face blushed as she failed to catch herself in time. Shara nodded fervently, her own face blushing.

"I don't know what to do!" she said, exasperated. "Monica has been occupying all of his free time lately, to the point that nobody else gets to see him. But she's still a little girl. I don't think she even knows what she's doing. How do I tell her to stop? It's not her fault that she has a crush on Micah, right?"

Well, no, Karina thought, it wasn't. After all, she was pretty sure that every girl in the village had a crush on Micah. But Monica was a different story. She simply wasn't old enough to understand those feelings; and, even if she was, she wasn't old enough to act on them. No matter how she looked at it—even if she considered Shara a worthy rival who had every right to fight for Micah's affection as she did—Monica was causing problems. This had to be resolved first.

"Well, it's simple, right?" Karina eventually said, the jealous thoughts tiring her out and her laziness finally getting the better of her. "Just tell Micah how Monica feels. He'll put a stop to it himself." Shara inhaled sharply, her eyes opening wide as if this was an ingenious plan.

"That's what I'll do!" she shouted, turning to run out of the shop. Karina languidly raised a hand to stop her as the bag of sugar sat on the counter, but ultimately said nothing, letting her hand fall back down. Shara eventually ran back in, grabbing the bag and running back out without another word. Karina was slightly annoyed since it meant that Monica would actually be able to finish her cake, but it was something that could be dealt with later. For now, the absence of customers made the countertop very inviting, and she rested her head against her arms once more.

Musty soil and the scent of freshly tilled earth pervaded the farm beneath the Sharance Tree as Shara timidly approached Micah, his strained grunts echoing off the interior of the trunk as he threw his hoe down and drew it forcefully back. She didn't have the heart to stop him, so she simply leaned against the shipping box and watched him work for the better part of half an hour before he finally turned and noticed her.

"Ah!" he said, slightly startled. "Hey, Shara. What brings you here?"

"Well," Shara started, awkwardly shuffling her feet, "I was hoping we could talk." Micah shrugged slightly, then turned back to the freshly plowed field, leaning down as he reached into his seed bag.

"Sorry, but I'm really busy. I have a playdate with Monica in the flower fields by Daria's house at three. I don't want to keep her waiting, so I'm trying to get these seeds planted as quickly as possible."

"Well," Shara said with a sudden urgency, faltering as Micah looked up at her, "it…it's about that, actually." Micah looked at her with a horrified expression on his face.

"What's wrong with the seeds?" he asked, alarmed. Shara just sighed. As much as she loved Micah, he could be incredibly obtuse at times.

"No, not the seeds. The seeds are fine. It's about your date with Monica." Micah leaned back on his heels, looking up curiously at Shara as he placed his palms firmly against his knees to support himself.

"Yeah?"

"Well…" Shara started, unsure of how to explain. "I think maybe she…well…she doesn't see it as a…play date." Micah arched his brow in confusion. Shara sighed quietly as she closed her eyes and forced herself to continue. "Right now, she's busy baking you a chocolate cake. I'm pretty sure she thinks it's a…date date."

Micah lifted one of his hands to his chin, absentmindedly rubbing some dirt on it as he thought carefully. Although Monica had been very confrontational with him at first—biting him whenever he came into the flower shop—she had eventually warmed up to him and had since then been extremely affectionate towards him. To be perfectly honest, her abrasive nature had at first annoyed him, but as he had gradually uncovered the loving, caring sister underneath the aggressive monster that first assaulted him, he had realized what a kindhearted person she was deep-down, and she had grown incredibly fond in his heart.

"Hmm," Micah said, rubbing the dirt even further into his chin. "I think I understand. I'll make sure I talk to her this afternoon. But I really need to get this Cherry Grass planted before then." Shara nodded happily as Micah set back to work and excused herself from the farm.

Micah wasn't as obtuse as he wanted Shara to think he was. Honestly, he had just been trying to avoid this particular issue. As he sowed the flower seeds, he considered how weird things were going to be between himself and the two sisters that he cared about more than anyone else. Yet he couldn't simply sit by and do nothing; now that Shara had brought it out into the open, he had no choice but to confront it. Dammit.

Trickles of sparkling light seemed to spill down Monica's head as she knelt in the field of flowers, humming to herself placidly as she plucked flower buds and arranged them into a wreath. Although Shara would be cross with her for doing so, she knew that the flowers in this field would eventually regrow their buds, and it was only the act of uprooting them that actually killed them. For as much as her sister claimed to love flowers, she didn't seem to know much about how they grew. Of course, Monica wasn't so much worried about that at the moment; what she cared about was finishing the wreath she was trying to weave before Micah showed up for their date.

As she heard the soft stamping of feet behind her, Monica turned around with a mixed expression on her face: On one hand, she was happy that Micah had shown up on time; on the other, she was annoyed that she hadn't had time to finish her floral wreath. Nevertheless, she jumped up as he approached and held it out to him.

"Tada~!" she shouted. "I mean, ta…da," she followed up as she lowered it, her face bursting into scarlet flames as she tried desperately to cover up the missing flowers. "I thought I would be done by…I mean, I thought…you were supposed to be late, dummy!" Monica threw her arms together in a huff as she tried to hide the wreath, but Micah reached out and gently but firmly grasped her wrist, pulling it back out.

"Did you make this for me?" he asked, his voice soft and warm. "I love it! Nobody's ever made something like this for me before." Monica continued to blush fiercely but gave him a haughty smile.

"Well, you should be happy! This is what a girlfriend does for her boyfriend, after all!"

"Oh?" Micah said coyly, eyeing the basket by her feet. "And I suspect the chocolate cake in there is related?"

"Of course it—" Monica stopped, finally realizing what he'd said. She tried for a moment to figure out how to deal with this unexpected development, then realized that Micah was privy to something he shouldn't be.

"Wait, how did you know I made chocolate cake?" Micah finally dropped his facade of ignorance, begrudgingly rubbing the back of his neck in guilty admission.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Shara told me what you were planning. I guess I got ahead of myself." Monica's face scrunched up in frustration.

"It was supposed to be a secret!" she wailed. "She always does this! Why does she hate me so much?" Although she started to move away, Micah stopped her, gently grasping her arm and pulling her closer to him. She sniffled quietly as he pulled her into his chest, gently stroking his hand against the back of her head.

"She doesn't hate you," he said, squeezing her tightly against himself. "She loves you. She just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Hurt?" she said quietly, her face pressed tightly against Micah's body. "How would I get hurt?"

"By…" Micah stopped as he realized the irony of what he was about to say, then loosened his grip on Monica and looked down at her.

"By being too close to me," he said. Monica looked up at him in confusion.

"Why is she trying so hard to stop me from being close to the person I love?"

"Because…" Micah started, then paused. He considered that she probably had many reasons, not all of which were selfless. However, there was one in particular that he needed to address. After a moment of careful thought, he continued. "Because I'm too old for you."

"You mean, she thinks you're too old for me?" Monica asked optimistically, looking up into Micah's eyes. Micah shook his head.

"If you were my age, things would be different, but the way things are now…?"

Monica looked painfully at Micah, then ran out of his arms, sprinting back towards the town. He wanted to stop her, but, as things stood, he knew that she would be better off away from him, at least for a while.

Monica fell to her knees at the shore of Dragon Lake, weeping bitterly into her hands. It didn't make any sense. She had always been taught that their town's guardian spirit was one who oversaw their romances and was one who jealously guarded them. She had never really understood what that meant, but she had taken it on faith that, once she fell in love, she would have nothing to worry about. That did not seem to be the case at all. At the moment, it felt as though she had been abandoned, left to wallow in misery as the love of her life aged away from her.

WHY ARE YOU DISTRESSED?

Monica looked around frantically to try and divine the source of the voice, but it completely eluded her. She rubbed her eyes as she sniffled, then spoke to the air.

"You wouldn't understand."

WOULD I NOT?

"No, you wouldn't," Monica said, somewhat indignantly. "I don't know who you are, but you can't possibly know how much it hurts to lose someone you love."

CAN I NOT?

Monica grew angry at the words, annoyed at how casually they were foisted upon her.

"No, you CAN'T!" she shouted, exerting as much force as she could into the gale that was rising up off the lake, the sudden wind that accompanied the voice sending her tears streaking back along the sides of her face. "I'm so sick of everyone treating me like a child! Everyone acts like Micah is just a little crush for me, but I really love him! I love him more than I love the Cherry Grass that he grows just for me! I love him more than all the effort that my sister and her friends put into keeping me away from him! I love him as much as I possibly can, but everyone seems to think that I'm not 'old enough'. Why doesn't anyone believe me? What do I have to do?"

There was a long silence, then the majestic voice spoke in dramatic tones once more.

I SEE. YOU WISH TO BE OLDER FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR BELOVED, YES? I CAN GRANT THIS FOR YOU. COME. RETRIEVE THE SCALE FROM MY FOREHEAD.

Suddenly, an incredible dragon appeared before Monica, its body occupying the majority of Dragon Lake. It leaned down its magnificent head and waited patiently as Monica slowly, cautiously, approached it. Although she had been startled by its unexpected appearance, it did not seem threatening; on the contrary, it seemed to radiate an air of tranquility. Monica tentatively reached out her hand. He had said to take a scale, so Monica placed her hand on the dragon's head and grasped the most prominent scale she could see. After she had pried it off, the dragon reared its head back up with a roar. Silently, she heard,

THIS SCALE IS A CONDUIT OF MY POWER AND A SYMBOL OF MY PROMISE. KEEP IT CLOSE AT HAND. FOR THE SAKE OF THE ONE YOU LOVE, YOU SHALL ASSUME THE AGE YOU DESIRE BY THE RISING OF THE SUN. YET IF YOU SHOULD EVER REGRET THIS DESIRE AND WISH TO RETURN TO YOUR PROPER AGE, RETURN THE SCALE TO ME, AND THE SPELL SHALL BE UNDONE.

With that final parting message, the dragon disappeared into the depths. Monica wasn't sure what to make of it, but—with the dragon's scale in hand, and the promise of what it offered—she hurried home, eager to finish out the day. Meanwhile, Aquaticus, from the quiet depths of his shrine, carefully scrutinized the events that were unfolding. Although not quite what he had originally hoped for, this should serve his purposes—in time. It all came down to Micah.

As Monica entered Fantastic Flowers and gave her grandfather an enthusiastic greeting, Shara looked up from organizing the cologne shelf beneath the counter and carefully studied her face and manner. She had expected Monica to be upset—despondent, even—so this sort of status-quo behavior had her confused. She wondered if, perhaps, Micah had failed to address the situation properly until she attempted to greet her sister and was met with a stony, uncharacteristic glare. Shara's brow scrunched up in equal parts confusion and concern.

"How did your date with Micah go?" she asked carefully.

"I think you know how it went," Monica said with a huff, throwing her arms together. However, as they came in contact with the dragon scale tucked into her bodice, she relaxed her expression. "But I forgive you. Our guardian spirit is looking out for me, after all."

Shara was puzzled but grateful that Monica had chosen not to hold a grudge, and the two spent the rest of the day tending to the flowers before closing shop. As they were preparing for bed, Shara saw Monica pull something shiny out of her dress and slip it under her pillow. She couldn't quite make out what it was, but the glittering, blue-green hue that reflected off it in the dim lamplight of their room immediately piqued her interest.

"What's that?" she asked. Monica simply turned and scrunched up her face, closing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"Not telling!" she said, continuing to change into her pajamas. Shara said nothing else as the sisters climbed into their respective beds save for a single goodnight. Monica did not offer one in return; instead, she laid bundled beneath her blanket, facing away from Shara, her hand beneath her pillow as her fingers gently stroked the coarse rivets of the scale.

Please, please let this work.


Echoes of Micah's exaggerated yawning reverberated off the walls of the Sharance Tree as he groggily prepared himself a fresh cup of juice, mentally preparing to tackle the day ahead of him. Although he had gone out of his way to avoid the sisters after his date with Monica the day before, he knew it was only a matter of time before he crossed paths with one of them. He expected that things would be quite uncomfortable for a while—with Monica, certainly, but with Shara, as well. Although it was only at Shara's request that Micah had broken her poor sister's heart, Micah suspected that there was a part of her that resented him for doing so.

He wouldn't blame her if she did. In all honesty, he resented himself. If it had been up to him, things never would have turned out this way. He was too old for Monica; he knew that. He also knew that he loved her dearly, and he would have been happy to let things carry on as they were, even if it were only in a playful, innocent way. That could only have ended poorly, and he was incredibly angry with himself for thinking so selfishly, but breaking things off with Monica had hurt him just as much as it had hurt her, and it was going to take a little time before he could forgive himself for it.

Micah spluttered into his juice as his front door was suddenly thrown open and an unfamiliar woman rushed inside. He set the glass down on the table in front of him and placed his hand over his mouth, coughing up the handful of droplets that had ventured down the wrong tube as the young woman ran over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his face into her rather ample chest.

"It worked! Micah, it worked! I can't believe it worked!" The young woman rocked back and forth as she cradled Micah's head, his eyes rolling about in his skull.

"Please," he said with a strain, "I can't breathe." The young woman looked down in shock and let Micah go as he dramatically fell forward in his chair, coughing against the table.

"I'm sorry!" she shouted, rubbing his back. "I was just so excited to see you. Are you alright?" Micah waved his hand dismissively, then sat back up, looking into the young woman's eyes. Although she resembled Shara, her hair was a bit longer and her eyes were a reddish shade of brown, compared to Shara's aqua blue.

"Do I…know you?" he asked uncertainly. The young woman feigned a pout, although she struggled to stop herself from smiling.

"Don't tell me you can't even recognize your own girlfriend," she said, a sarcastic tone in her voice.

Girlfriend?

"M—Monica?" he exclaimed in shock, jumping up from his seat. Monica smiled brightly at him as she twirled around, grasping the hem of her dress delicately between her fingers.

"Isn't it amazing?" she said. "Now there's nothing keeping us apart! It's everything I could have wished for!"

"What…but…how…" Micah stammered, trying to get a grasp of the situation. Monica reached into a small pouch on her waist and pulled out a glittering, aquamarine scale. Micah took it from her in befuddlement.

"I met the guardian spirit of Sharance at Dragon Lake yesterday. After I told him about you, he gave me this scale and promised he would make me an adult just so we could be together. I wasn't sure it would work, so I almost couldn't believe it when I woke up looking like this. I wanted you to be the first one to see, so I had to sneak one of Shara's dresses out of her wardrobe while she slept, although it's a little tight." Monica blushed as she tugged at the strained fabric of the bodice.

Micah looked at Monica's red-streaked face; his eyes traced the contours of her buxom figure, fell down to the shimmering scale in his hand, then finally lifted back up to her face in disbelief. She was flashing him an alluring if slightly embarrassed smile, but all he could do was slowly shake his head, his mouth slightly agape.

"You shouldn't have done this," he said quietly. The color began to drain from Monica's face as Micah's tone set a weight on her heart.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You said things would be different if I was your age. That is what you said, right?" Micah simply glanced at the floor as he ran his hand through his hair in distress.

"Yes, that's what I said, but I meant…if circumstances were different, then…" Micah trailed off as his thoughts failed to neatly align themselves into words. Monica reached out and grasped his hand.

"But circumstances are different!" she said hopefully. "Look! Doesn't this prove that our relationship has the blessing of the guardian spirit? What more do you need?" Micah looked her over again.

"It's not that, Monica," he said, still trying to mentally sort through everything. Monica let go of his hand, letting hers drop limply to her side.

"You don't love me, do you?" Her voice was barely audible as her cheeks began to scrunch up, tears beginning to run down them. Micah's heart shattered at the sight and he reached out his hand, gently wiping away the tears.

"It's certainly not that," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I love you with all of my heart, Monica." Monica raised her hand to Micah's and squeezed it tightly. Although it was tough and strong from many laborious hours of toiling on the farm, it still felt lovingly tender as it gingerly caressed her cheek.

"Then, why?" she asked, sniffling. "I don't understand what's wrong." Micah lowered his hand from Monica's face but kept hold of her hand.

"Because this is too great of a sacrifice," Micah said, finally starting to think more clearly. "I know it doesn't seem that way to you right now, but you've lost years—some of the most important years of your life. Even if it was done out of love, you can't expect me to be happy about that—especially when I know that it's my fault." Monica dragged the sleeve of her dress across her eyes, then pointed to the scale in Micah's hand, still desperately clinging to the other.

"The spirit told me…if I brought that scale back…it would…make me young again." She spoke slowly through her quiet sobs as if forcing the words out. "I…I can't. I can't do it. I can't lose you again. But if…if you think it's…it's the right thing…" Monica held her hand to her face as it cracked in sorrow, the tears flooding out now. "Th-then…I won't…I w-won't…stop..."

Micah looked down at the accursed object in his hand, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Monica, noting that she was now tall enough for her cheek to brush against his as he did so. He placed his hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair gently as she squeezed him tightly, her sobs thundering in his heart. Just as before, he so badly wanted to leave things as they were—to pretend like everything was normal and go about his days happily. However, just as before, he knew what a selfish thought that was, and he knew that he had to do something.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, her arms tightening as he spoke. He held her for a moment longer, then pulled away from her. Although reluctant to do so, Monica let her arms come apart as he took a step back. "I love you, Monica." Monica merely nodded, unable to speak, as Micah turned and left, scale in hand. As the door swung shut, she crumpled upon the ground, head in her hands, her violent cries shaking the tree to its roots.

Dense fog rolled off the surface of Dragon Lake as Micah approached the shore, muting the usual buzz of crepuscular insects that accompanied the dawn. Micah looked around for a moment, squinting through the haze to try and catch a glimpse of the old shrine that sat on a lone isle in the distance, but he couldn't discern any individual shapes. He wondered what might be causing such unusual weather, but it was of little importance to him at the moment. With a wave of his hand, he held the scale aloft, shouting into the miasma.

"Spirit! I must speak with you!" There was a rumble from deep underwater, then a steady stream of bubbles broke out along the surface. Combined with the fog, it almost seemed as if the lake itself was boiling.

VERY WELL.

The voice emanated as if from everywhere, deafening Micah. At the same time, a brilliant flash of light engulfed him, causing him to throw his hand up to his eyes in a futile attempt to shield them. When at last his senses began to return, he looked around in surprise to find himself within a damp, stone chamber—the walls and floor seemed to pulse with a dim but steady blue light while channels of water ran down from the ceiling. He looked around in wonder as the form of a tremendous dragon appeared before him.

SPEAK.

"I believe this belongs to you," Micah said, holding the scale out. Aquaticus remained still.

YOU BELIEVE INCORRECTLY. THAT SCALE BELONGS TO ONE NAMED 'MONICA'.

Micah's brow furrowed as he continued to hold the scale out.

"I'm saying that I'm here to return it," he said. Aquaticus continued to float ahead of him, refusing to acknowledge him beyond his mere presence and the disembodied voice that accompanied him.

IF THE GIRL WISHES TO RECANT, WHY HAVE YOU COME IN HER STEAD?

Micah's arm faltered.

"Well, she…she doesn't wish to recant. But she gave me permission to do so on her behalf." Aquaticus leaned his head down as if to study him, causing Micah to recoil his hand in trepidation.

A PITY. HAD I KNOWN HER WISH WAS TO BE WASTED ON SUCH A FOOL, I NEVER SHOULD HAVE GRANTED IT.

"Fool?" Micah said, glowering defensively. "I'm trying to do what's best for her." Aquaticus howled as if in laughter.

BY SPURNING HER LOVE? IF NOT A FOOL, THEN YOU ARE BUT A SELFISH COWARD. INDEED, PERHAPS SHE WAS THE FOOL TO HAVE LOVED SUCH A PITIABLE MAN.

Micah's cheeks grew red-hot at the accusation, and he threw out his chest, gritting his teeth.

"Love? You would dare to speak to me about love? You, who would callously toy with an innocent girl's heart? You, who would thoughtlessly tear the most important years of her life away from her? You, a mere beast, who—" Aquaticus roared suddenly, drawing Micah to silence.

I AM AQUATICUS. I AM ONE OF THE FOUR ANCIENT, DIVINE DRAGONS. I SHALL BE ADDRESSED AS SUCH. I SHALL NOT SUFFER THE IMPERTINENCE OF A MERE MORTAL.

Micah could tell that he had struck a nerve, but it was too late: his veins were charged with adrenaline and cortisol at the accusations Aquaticus had so casually levied—not against himself, but against Monica.

"Some divinity," he said, the sardonic tinge of the words acting as a linguistic poison. "You toy with our lives and claim no responsibility when you muck things up, then dare to call us fools for your own shortsightedness." Aquaticus raised himself up to the full height of the chamber, his wings spread wide and sending a ferocious gale into Micah's stinging eyes as they flapped.

I WARN YOU, MORTAL: I HAVE NO QUALMS WITH BRINGING YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIFE TO A QUICK AND INELEGANT CONCLUSION.

Micah threw his hand up against the wind, attempting to shield his eyes from the onslaught, stubbornly holding his ground as he once more held the scale aloft.

"Do as you will!" he shouted. "But I will make sure you take this infernal thing back one way or another! I will not let you hurt that girl any more than you already have!"

Aquaticus' wings beat for a moment longer, then slowed to a standstill; the uproarious din that had erupted from them gradually subsided. He settled onto the ground and approached Micah solemnly—still a magnificent spectacle to behold, but no longer seeming as though he were posturing. To Micah, it almost seemed as if he were approaching as equals.

IT SEEMS YOU TRULY ARE A FOOL.

"Pardon?" Micah said, his stance still defensive. Aquaticus bowed his head.

I MEAN NO OFFENSE. I SIMPLY UNDERSTAND HUMANITY A BIT BETTER THAN YOU SEEM TO THINK. AFTER MANY EONS OF STUDY, IT HAS BECOME ABUNDANTLY CLEAR TO ME THAT SELF-SACRIFICE IS THE MOST SINCERE EXPRESSION OF LOVE THAT YOU POSSESS. I WOULD CALL IT FOOLISH, BUT I DO NOT FAIL TO RECOGNIZE IT FOR WHAT IT IS. YOU WISH FOR ME TO RESTORE MONICA OUT OF A SELF-SACRIFICIAL LOVE FOR HER, DO YOU NOT?

Micah was taken aback but still stood his ground.

"I do," he said, a guarded tone in his voice.

EVEN IF IT MEANS THAT YOU AND SHE WILL BE FOREVER APART?

Micah winced but determinedly clenched his hand into a fist.

"Yes." Aquaticus seemed almost to hum for a moment, then carefully lowered himself down further to meet Micah's eye line.

AND WHAT WOULD YOU SAY IF I TOLD YOU THAT THERE WAS AN ALTERNATIVE?

Micah's eyebrows perked up at the question.

"An alternative? What kind?" Aquaticus drew himself back up to full height as he carefully studied Micah's body language.

I SUSPECTED THIS MIGHT HAPPEN. RATHER, I HOPED THAT IT WOULD. IT WAS NEVER MY INTENTION TO LEAVE THE GIRL TRANSFORMED; IF YOU HAD THOUGHTLESSLY ACCEPTED HER, THEN I WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU WERE UNWORTHY OF HER. IF YOU CAME AND FOUGHT FOR HER SAKE, THEN I WOULD KNOW THAT YOU SINCERELY LOVED HER AS MUCH AS SHE LOVED YOU. EITHER WAY, I COULD NOT ALLOW THIS FACADE TO PERSIST.

Micah's face twisted up in incredulity.

"Then, this was all some elaborate test? You shattered that poor girl's heart for fun?" Aquaticus roared again, although it lacked the intimidation it had held previously.

IT WAS NOT MERE JOLLITY THAT I SOUGHT, BUT CONFIRMATION OF MY SUSPICIONS. I NEEDED TO KNOW IF YOUR INTENTIONS WERE PURE. NOW THAT I AM SURE THAT THEY ARE, I CAN OFFER YOU THE ALTERNATIVE THAT I MENTIONED.

"That being?" Micah asked, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic spirit now speaking to him.

WHILE I COULD NOT ALLOW HER AGE TO ARTIFICIALLY CONFORM TO YOURS, I CAN ENSURE THAT YOUR AGE NATURALLY CONFORMS TO HERS. IN THIS WAY, NOTHING OF SUBSTANCE SHALL BE LOST FROM HER LIFE.

"Wait, are you serious?" Micah asked, simultaneously excited and perplexed by the suggestion. "How would that work? Don't tell me—" Micah's voice cut off as he considered the implications of what Aquaticus was saying. "Do you intend to make me a…child?" The roar that resembled laughter once again erupted from the walls of the room.

EVEN IF I WISHED TO, I DO NOT HOLD SUCH SWAY OVER THE FLOW OF TIME. IF IT WAS NOT CLEAR, THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE GIRL WAS A MERE ILLUSION—ONE WHICH COULD BE EASILY UNDONE. FOR YOU, I HAVE PREPARED SOMETHING SIGNIFICANTLY MORE ELABORATE. HOWEVER, IT IS A GREAT PERSONAL SACRIFICE. I WISHED TO ASCERTAIN WHETHER YOU TRULY LOVED THE GIRL BEFORE I PROFFERED IT. NOW THAT I AM CERTAIN OF YOUR GENUINE FEELINGS, I WILL ASK THIS BUT ONCE: WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE FOR THE HAPPINESS OF THE ONE YOU LOVE?

Micah knew what Aquaticus was asking: How much of himself was he willing to sacrifice for Monica? Although it seemed hypocritical for him to come here to undo a personal sacrifice that Monica had made out of love for him only to perform one of his own, Micah believed strongly that, if either of them should suffer for their love, it should be him. In that respect, there was one, and only one, answer.

"Everything."

VERY WELL.

Aquaticus whirled around the room as the blue-effulgent stones on the walls and floor grew brighter until a single tile beside him emitted a brilliant cascade of light. Micah looked curiously towards it as Aquaticus coiled up at the far end of the room.

I WILL NOT MAKE YOU DO THIS. HOWEVER, IF YOU ENTER THE STREAM OF LIGHT THAT YOU SEE, YOU SHALL BE SEALED, BODY AND SOUL, WITHIN THIS SHRINE. YOU SHALL NOT BE RELEASED UNLESS YOUR BELOVED CALLS ON YOU, BUT YOU SHALL NOT SUFFER ANY INDULGENCES OF TIME UNTIL THAT DAY.

"You mean," Micah said, trying to wrap his head around Aquaticus' florid and unnecessarily obtuse language, "I won't age?" Aquaticus seemed almost to nod in affirmation. "And I'll stay here until Monica comes to get me?" Another nod, or at least the implication of one. Micah hummed to himself in thought as the voice spoke again.

I CANNOT ALLOW YOU TO ENSHRINE YOURSELF WITHOUT A FULL EXPLANATION, HOWEVER. IF YOU DECIDE TO DO THIS, YOUR VERY ESSENCE WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE WORLD; TO EVERYONE ELSE, IT WILL BE AS IF YOU NEVER EXISTED AT ALL.

"Wait, you mean that no one will remember me?" Another solemn nod. "Then what if…" Micah thought about what an attractive figure Monica had struck and realized that he wouldn't be the only one to think so. "I mean, if Monica doesn't even remember who I am, then how…" Micah was struggling to put his thoughts into words, but Aquaticus understood him nevertheless.

I WATCH OVER THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS VILLAGE, AND I JEALOUSLY GUARD THEM. WHILE SHE WILL HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF YOU, I WILL ENSURE THAT SHE WILL PURSUE YOU WITHOUT HESITATION, THE EQUIVOCATION OF HER OWN FEELINGS AND THE FLEETING MEMORY OF HER LOST LOVE ACTING NOT AS A HINDRANCE. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR; IF YOU STEP INTO THE LIGHT, IT WILL SEEM AS A MERE MOMENT HAS PASSED—YET SHE WILL LIVE OUT HER CHILDHOOD JUST AS YOU WISHED, AND YOU WILL AWAKEN IN HER ARMS.

Micah considered this. On the one hand, it seemed as if this was something that could withstand no contest—that the worst he would lose was to see for himself the growth of the town he had worked so hard for. However, as he considered the recent Unity festival, he realized that he had been instrumental in the joining of the town with the Univir settlement. If he were to suddenly disappear, what would that mean for the stability of the two settlements that desperately needed each other? Aquaticus spoke up, seemingly sensing what troubled him.

YOU NEED NOT WORRY. ALL THE GOOD YOU HAVE DONE WILL STILL HAVE BEEN DONE. THOUGH THE CAUSE BE REMOVED, THE EFFECTS SHALL REMAIN. THERE IS NOTHING TO GAIN OR LOSE THROUGH THIS THAN THE LOVE OF ONE GIRL. THE CHOICE IS YOURS.

"Then the choice is simple," Micah said, stepping into the pool of light.

Monica lifted her hand up to her head as she tried to get her bearings. She was in the Sharance Tree. Why? She had apparently been crying—at least, the wet and swollen cheeks would suggest so. She had also been wearing one of Shara's dresses. What…what in the world was happening?


Quiet streams of air rustled the outstretched arms of the Sharance tree far above, the wind only letting out a hollow sound as it blew through its barren branches. Monica looked up at it forlornly, having felt a strong connection to it for many years, but having no way to enunciate that feeling to those around her. She clutched at her bodice as she looked up at the tree, a familiar yet foreign sensation gripping her heart.

"Oh, Monica. How are you?"

Raven paused on her way back into town. Her words were short and considerate—if not a reflection of herself, then a reflection of the Dwarf she had been voluntarily shackled to for the last several years. As Monica looked over at her, she wondered to herself, inaudibly, why Raven was still single: She had beautiful, long, red hair that flowed down past her wide hips; she had aquamarine eyes that belied her standoffishness, searching for companionship; she had lithe and deft fingers that were wrapped in smooth, leathery gloves, which were currently raised inquisitively to her face as she awaited a response.

"I'm alright, I guess", Monica said with a slight sigh, looking back up at the Sharance Tree's stark limbs. Raven followed her gaze up, listening to the longing in her voice.

"Yet?" she asked. Monica held her gaze upon the tree for a moment longer, then turned back to Raven, a concerned look on her face.

"Am I crazy? Doesn't it feel like the Sharance Tree is missing something?" Raven studied her for a moment, then looked up at the tree. She rubbed her own chin in the same contemplative gesture she'd seen Gaius perform many times before, but she couldn't quite grasp what Monica was saying.

"Flowers?" she finally asked. Monica simply lowered her head with another sigh.

"I suppose," she said quietly. Raven could tell that Monica had been anticipating—or, at least, hoping for—a different response. She looked back up at the Sharance Tree and felt a sudden aching in her heart—as if there was something missing. It was exactly as Monica had said, yet she could not grasp precisely what it was.

This was strange. It was almost as if her own monster side was wanting to reveal itself. To her knowledge, this had never happened before: Raven had been quite careful to conceal her monster side ever since she had begun living in Sharance; it was only Gaius who knew of her mixed-blood heritage. So, why was it that she felt compelled to reveal it now, standing before the empty branches of this tree? What was it that made this particular sight so confusing?

"Well," Raven said slowly, reaching out her hand to stroke the top of Monica's head in a desperate bid to return herself to some feeling of normalcy, "whatever it is, I'm sure it will come back eventually." Monica smiled wanly up at Raven, then casually shook her hand off, walking back towards Fantastic Flowers.

There was something odd about the town, Raven thought to herself as she watched Monica go. The Sharance Tree certainly played some role in that feeling, but now that she had given it more careful thought, she realized that it was the town's overall disposition that seemed strange; while nobody actually knew that Raven was half-monster, there was some reason that she felt the town would be unperturbed by that particular revelation. Maybe that was because they had finally reconnected with the Univir settlement, but…wait, how had that happened?

What in the world was going on?


Hot flames billowed from the furnace as Gaius stepped back, shielding his face from the uproar as Monica walked into the smithy. She looked around for a moment, then walked up to Gaius, who, at the moment, had his hands full. She watched in silence as he quelched the flames overwhelming the sword in his hands by dipping it into a barrel of water by the furnace. Steam and drops of boiling water sputtered off the top of the barrel as he casually lowered the hunk of steel down, his gloved hands guarding his face against the few drops that shot towards him in protest. When at last the blade had been cooled enough, Gaius brought it back out and placed it down on his anvil, grabbing his hammer and raising it in one smooth motion.

"Gaius," Monica said, throwing him off balance. He looked up from his anvil in surprise, then smiled as he set his hammer down. Although letting it sit and cool would spoil the metal he had been working on, it pleased him to see Monica, especially today.

"Is that your correspondence?" he asked, holding out his gloved hand. Monica handed the small card to him as he shook his other glove off and held the card closer to his good eye.

"Ah, right. I'm glad you can make it to the wedding. But can you take this to Evelyn? She's handling the particulars," he said, handing the card back. Monica nodded quietly, Gaius noticing that something seemed to be bothering her. "Is everything alright?" he added, leaning against his workbench.

"It's not that pressing," Monica suddenly said with raised hands. "I don't want to bother you on such an important day." Gaius looked around his workshop casually.

"Do I look like I'm all that busy?" he asked, a bit of sarcasm making it into his voice. It was funny, Monica thought, that meeting Zaid—another Dwarf from a brother clan—would spark Gaius' sense of irony. Until now, he had been blunt and obvious: what you saw was what you got. It was only after meeting Zaid that he seemed to realize just how stiff that made him come across. Interestingly, that was also when Evelyn started to notice him. In fact, that was what concerned Monica the most right now: why did she remember how he was before he met Zaid? If it was so different, why couldn't she remember how he met Zaid?

"You and Evelyn," Monica started, trying to phrase her words delicately, "when exactly did you start dating?" Gaius raised a hand to his chin as he hummed thoughtfully to himself.

"I suppose…about when the Univir settlement joined us." Monica nodded her head as if this confirmed something very important for her.

"Do you remember when exactly that was, or why it happened?"

Gaius' brow furrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again when he realized that he didn't have anything substantial to say. Of course, it had something to do with the Sharance Tree growing, but…wait, when had that happened? Hadn't the Sharance Tree always been the same size? And if it had grown, why hadn't it grown flowers yet? And what did all of this have to do with him getting married to Evelyn? It seemed as though Monica was asking some difficult questions that he wasn't equipped to answer.

"Is there some reason you want to know?" he finally asked, his hand falling from his face. Monica glanced down at the ground, her arms folded in front of her.

"I've been thinking for a while," she said slowly, as if unsure of herself. Though she trailed off, Gaius placed his hand encouragingly on her shoulder. She glanced up at him with equal parts gratefulness and pain.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's that…well, for a long time now, I've felt like I'm missing something. Like I'm waiting for something—or someone. But no matter how hard I think about it, I can't figure out why I feel that way." Gaius cocked his head to one side as he gave her a confused look.

"You mean, like, romantically?" he asked. Monica nodded her head.

"It's like I'm trapped in this weird fairy tale where I'm waiting for my prince, but I have no idea if he's even real." Gaius creased his brow in confusion.

"Prince?"

"Like the Rose Prince," Monica said without thinking; suddenly, her face brightened as she gasped.

"Wait, that's it!" she exclaimed, Gaius losing purchase of her shoulder as she jumped up into the air. "I'm waiting for the Rose Prince! That's who it is!" Gaius gave her a concerned look.

"The…Rose Prince?" he said slowly. "I'm not…sure…" he trailed off as Monica grabbed his hand in excitement.

"Congratulations on your wedding! I hope you'll come to mine when I'm ready!" Gaius nodded in confusion as Monica ran out of the shop.

Well, whatever—it would be a few hours before he needed to suit up, so he could spend that time working on another sword, seeing as Monica's interruption had all but ruined this one. Yet he was troubled by what she had said: why had Evelyn started dating him when she did? As he recalled, she had spent several years barely giving him the time of day. It was only after he had met Zaid, that cocksure, arrogant Dwarf who…but why had that happened?


A gentle spring breeze carried the scent of Cherry Grass across the front of the De Sainte-Coquille estate as Monica tended to the flowers. Although she had a life-long love of all flowers, there was something about Cherry Grass in particular that always lifted her spirits—something she couldn't quite explain that made them near and dear to her heart. Now that winter had ended, it made her incredibly happy to be tending to them again. Seeing as the De Sainte-Coquille family was generous enough to fund much of the town's beautification efforts, Monica made it a point to put some extra work into their gardens.

"Excuse me," a soft voice spoke out beside her. Monica looked up from the buds she was pruning; the voice belonged to a young man with feathery blond hair and bright, aquamarine eyes. Although Monica didn't know him, she was sure she had seen him in town before.

"Yes?" she asked, sitting back on her heels.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," the young man said, an apologetic look on his face. Monica lifted herself up and dusted off her knees.

"Not at all," she said, the mild annoyance of her tone betraying the pleasant look on her face. "What can I do for you?" The young man removed his red beret and kneaded it awkwardly in his hands.

"Um, well, I just wanted to compliment your work here. I take it you're the landscaper for the De Sainte-Coquille family?"

"Just the flowers," Monica said. "I tend to most of them around town."

"Ah, that does make sense. The flowers are all quite lovely here in Sharance."

"Thank you," Monica said. The young man turned his hat over in his hands nervously for a moment before speaking up again.

"Oh, how rude of me. My name is Leonel. I'm a merchant from Alvarna. I work with Mrs. Evelyn to help sell her clothes and furniture around the world."

"It's nice to meet you, Leonel." Leonel blushed slightly, holding his hat behind his back.

"Well, I'm more of a bookkeeper than a merchant, really. I handle a lot of the logistics for Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Gaius."

"That's nice." Leonel cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I, um, didn't get your name."

"Monica." Leonel gave Monica a nervous smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Monica." When Monica said nothing in reply, Leonel cleared his throat again and returned his hat to his head, adjusting it slightly.

"Well, I am sorry to have interrupted. I hope I'll see you again." Monica nodded as Leonel bid her farewell. Sofia, having been listening to the exchange from an open window, let out an exasperated sigh once Leonel was out of earshot.

"Monica, dear, it wouldn't help you to be a bit more standoffish. It's obvious that the poor boy wasn't interested in you at all." Monica glanced away, a slight look of remorse on her face, then knelt down to continue tending to the flowers.

"I know," she said. "I just don't know how to handle situations like that. I don't want to be rude, but I also don't want to lead him on."

"What was the problem this time? I've never seen him before in my life, and he's always extremely rude. He's also quite ugly if I do say so myself." Monica's hands stopped moving, and she sat back on her heels again.

"It's not that there was anything wrong with him—I just know he's not the one I'm waiting for."

"The 'Rose Prince'?" Sofia asked, leaning against the window sill. "I heard something about that from Gaius. I also believe Shara has never said anything about it. Isn't that just a story you read?" Monica sat with her hands on her knees trying to think of how to explain.

"Yes, but he's also a real person. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. I know it is." Sofia sighed again, shading her eyes as a drifting cloud moved out of the way of the sun.

"It will be your birthday soon, yes? You're practically a child now, and a very homely one, at that. Shouldn't you give up on these romantic fairytales and start thinking seriously about being alone for the rest of your life?"

Monica knew that what Sofia was saying—or, at least, trying to convey—was reasonable. Her insistence on waiting for the Rose Prince did sound like a fairytale, and her refusal to entertain even a single potential suitor was both obstinate and delusional from an outside perspective. Yet she knew what she felt in her heart: a longing as of a voice calling to her from somewhere far away. It was too strong—too real—to be imagined, and as long as it was there, Monica was content to bide her time.

"You don't have to worry," Monica said with a smile as she looked up at Sofia. "I know what I'm doing." Sofia simply shook her head.

"I certainly hope you don't."


IT IS TIME. COME. HE IS WAITING.

Monica shot up in bed with a sharp gasp, something ringing in her head; it wasn't a voice, exactly, but an idea, as if someone had impressed a thought itself upon her. She raised her arm to her face and dragged the sleeve of her nightgown across her eyes, drying the tears that had sprung up—not from sadness, but from joy. She leaped out of bed and threw open her wardrobe, hastily changing into her dress. Shara propped herself up on her elbow at the sudden clamoring, squinting in the pre-dawn twilight.

"Monica? What are you doing?"

"I know where he is!" Monica shouted excitedly, rushing to the mirror and doing her best to brush her long, red hair by what little light was available. Shara sleepily blinked a few times as she tried to get her bearings.

"Who?"

"The Rose Prince!" Monica said, pulling a ribbon from one of her desk drawers and hastily tying it in her hair. She turned to face Shara, her arms held apart for inspection. "How do I look?" Shara rubbed at her eyes, then squinted again.

"You look fine," she said. Monica threw her hands together in delight, pressing them against her chest.

"Oh, I'm so nervous! It feels like I've been waiting my entire life for this! What should I say when I see him? Oh, that doesn't matter right now! I have to get to the shrine! How do I do that? I would ruin my dress if I tried to swim to it. Oh, I know! Marian! I'll bet she's up mixing potions! Bye, Shara!"

Shara watched as Monica rushed out the door, then dropped her head to her pillow in bewilderment, feeling as though a typhoon had just blown through the house. She didn't know what Monica had meant when she had said that she knew where the Rose Prince was, but she was too tired to deal with it presently. For now, she simply shut her eyes and allowed herself to drift back to sleep.

Knocking sounds echoed throughout the apothecary as Marian stirred her most recent, only slightly insidious concoction in the cauldron. Though she ignored them at first, she looked up in a huff when they continued. She dropped a mysterious root into the distressingly purple goop, then walked over to the door, opening it to see Monica standing there with a frantic look on her face.

"Monica? What is it? I'm right in the middle of brewing—"

"I'm sorry, but this is important," Monica said, cutting her off. "Did your grandmother ever teach you her teleport spell?" Marian gave her a proud smile, suddenly forgetting about the potion.

"Of course! I'm a real whiz with it, too! Do you need to go somewhere?" Monica nodded fervently. "No problem!" she added, grabbing her giant syringe from beside the door and hoisting it up. "Where do you want to go? Alvarna? Selphia? I can even send you as far as Kardia! With a very high chance of showing up in one piece!"

"I just need to get to the shrine at Dragon Lake," Monica said. Marian lowered her syringe slowly as her expression dropped.

"Oh. That close?" Monica nodded. "Well, that's…kind of impossible." Monica furrowed her brow in confusion.

"What? Why?" Marian set her syringe down.

"Well, see, teleporting generally requires a lot of magic; the farther away you want to go, the more magic you need."

"But you just said you could send me all the way to Kardia," Monica said in confusion. Marian shrugged.

"Sure. But that's only because I have so much magic. Too much, really. I can throttle it some, but the closest I could send you is, say, ten miles away." Monica looked crestfallen for a moment. "Oh, but Ondorus can help. He knows the teleport spell, too, and his magic is much weaker than mine. I mean…he's better at controlling it. He's probably out taking a walk right now."

"Indeed," Ondorus said, peering over the top of Monica's head. "I'm afraid I am not privy to your whole discussion, but I did catch that last remark, young lady." Marian's eyes widened, then she glanced away, feigning innocence.

"Why, I don't know what you could mean. Oh, goodness, I'd better get back to my potion. Excuse me!"

Marian quickly shut the door on her two guests, Monica turning to look up at Ondorus. He was tall and slender, carrying himself with a commanding presence that, combined with his cloak, came across as almost regal; despite that, he had a soft countenance and friendly disposition. Even during the Unity Festival, when Monica had seen a Univir for the first time, she distinctly remembered how unintimidating he was. Although she had never been the best with strangers, there was something about Ondorus that was immediately calming.

"Am I right to understand that you require my assistance?" Ondorus asked in his usual gentle tone. Monica nodded.

"I need to get to the shrine at Dragon Lake," she said. Ondorus nodded in kind.

"Ah, then it is the teleport spell that you were discussing. Yes, Marian is quite the magical prodigy, but you would most likely find yourself far into the wilderness if she attempted to teleport you somewhere so close."

"But you can do it?" Monica asked. Ondorus nodded again, then held a hand up inquisitively.

"Of course, but may I ask why you wish to go?" Monica furrowed her brow and bit her lip as she thought about how to explain.

"There's…someone inside. I'm trying to reach them." Ondorus raised his hand to his mouth in contemplation.

"'Someone,' you say? Hmm. Are you speaking of this town's guardian spirit?" Monica shook her head.

"No. Well, I mean, maybe that, too? But I meant a human." Ondorus hummed gently as he thought.

"Interesting. That should be impossible, but I find your conviction rather intriguing. I suppose it would be worth a look. However, I cannot speak to the safety of this; as an area brimming with magical power, it is sure to be overrun with monster gates. Do you still wish to go?" Monica nodded several times, a determined look on her face. "Very well."

A flash of light encircled the two as Ondorus' eyes closed in concentration. When Monica's vision returned and she was able to get her bearings again, she found the two of them standing by a great door. Although she had seen this structure many times from the shore of the lake, it was concealed by a great deal of overgrowth; as such, this was her first time ever getting a good look at the shrine itself. She reached out her hands to push the door open, but it held fast. After a few moments of straining, she dropped her arms with a huff.

"I don't understand," she said. Ondorus let out a slight chuckle, Monica turning to give him a disapproving frown.

"Forgive me," he said, "but you seemed so determined that I did not wish to interrupt."

"Then, do you know how to open the door?" she asked.

"Naturally. Come, see this writing here?" Monica looked up to where Ondorus was pointing.

"What does it say?" she asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion as she tried to decipher the runes scrawled on the door.

"In so many words, it says that the door will remain closed until both halves are made whole." Monica turned her baffled expression to Ondorus.

"How do we do that?" she asked. Ondorus held his hand out towards her.

"It is already done. Take my hand and you will see for yourself."

After a brief hesitation, Monica reached out and grasped Ondorus' hand. A soft light enveloped them—less intense than the teleportation spell—and a sudden rumbling began to shake the ground. With a grating sound, the stone doors slowly opened, revealing a deep tunnel running underneath the lake. Monica dropped Ondorus' hand as she gazed down into the shrine's depths—a soft, blue light flickering along the walls. He joined her at the threshold of the cave, examining the patterns along the walls.

"Why did that happen?" Monica asked, looking up at Ondorus.

"It is as the inscription said: the doors would only open once both halves were made whole; that is to say, once a Univir and a human stood united before it. Although, I must admit that I am rather troubled by this, as I cannot precisely recall how this occurred in the first place. Kuruna was always so acrimonious towards humans. What could have brought her around?" Monica pointed down into the tunnel.

"The answer is in there," she said. "I'm sure of it." Ondorus nodded to her, finding himself unable to dispute the certainty in her words.

"Let us not dawdle, then."

Water trickled along fissures in the walls as Monica and Ondorus made their way through the chambers of the cave. Although Ondorus had been right about the shrine being home to a great number of monsters, his magic was powerful enough to swiftly dispatch them, Monica clinging to the back of his cloak as he carved a path forward. After a long trek through winding corridors, the two found themselves in the central chamber. As Monica stepped into the room, her heart swelled; this was the source of the yearning she had felt all these years. Although the room appeared to be empty, she knew that it was anything but.

"I see," Ondorus said, halting just beyond the threshold. "It seems I am not permitted here. A shame, as my curiosity has rather gotten the better of me. Well, no matter—I will await you in the penultimate chamber behind us. Best of luck, Monica."

Ondorus departed with a wave, the entrance to the cavern sealing shut as he left. Monica's pulse quickened as she looked around the room; despite Ondorus no longer being with her, the feeling that she was not alone had only grown stronger. She held her breath in anticipation of something that exceeded her understanding, and, after several agonizingly long moments, she finally heard a voice rumble off the damp walls around her.

WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE?

"Aren't you the one who called me?" Monica asked the air. Another deep rumble shook the stones at her feet.

I AM. THAT WAS NOT MY QUESTION. I WISH TO KNOW WHY YOU FELT COMPELLED TO HEED MY CALL.

"Why wouldn't I?" Monica asked in confusion. "The love of my life is here, isn't he?"

THERE IS ONE HERE WHO MAY BE CALLED THAT. HOWEVER, HOW WOULD YOU RESPOND IF I WERE TO TELL YOU THAT HE FORSOOK YOUR LOVE LONG AGO?

"What do you mean?" Monica's tone and stance had become guarded. There was something odd about the way that the voice spoke—as if it was trying to misdirect her.

SEVEN YEARS AGO, YOU OPENED YOUR HEART TO HIM AND WERE REJECTED.

"Seven years?" Monica said absentmindedly as she did a rapid calculation in her mind. "But I would have been a child then."

SO YOU WERE. I REMOVED THAT IMPEDIMENT, YET HE REJECTED YOU STILL, LEAVING YOU TO WEEP ALONE INSIDE OF THE SHARANCE TREE.

A long-forgotten memory sprang to the front of Monica's mind as if being dredged up by some external force. She could remember the scene quite clearly: kneeling on the floor of the Sharance Tree in one of Shara's dresses, bitter tears born of a shattered heart flowing down her face. There was no doubt that it had occurred, but Monica refused to accept what the voice was saying at face value.

"He had a good reason," she said, her voice lacking the conviction it had earlier. "I'm sure he did."

HOW CAN YOU BE? YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HIM.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Monica asked, an indignant tone helping to bolster her confidence.

YOU MEAN TO IMPLY THAT IT IS MINE, BUT IT IS NOT. WHILE IT IS TRUE THAT THE MEMORY OF THIS MAN WAS SEALED HERE BY MY POWER, IT WAS DONE AT HIS REQUEST. YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN HIM BECAUSE HE DESIRED YOU TO.

"He wouldn't…" Monica started, then her voice faltered. This didn't make any sense. "Why would he do that?"

HIS REASONS WERE HIS OWN, AS WERE HIS ACTIONS. HE CAME HERE IN DEFIANCE OF YOUR WISHES, UTTERLY EXCISING HIMSELF FROM YOUR LIFE. CAN YOU TRULY LOVE SOMEONE SO QUICK TO ABANDON YOU? IS THAT HOW YOUR ROSE PRINCE WOULD BEHAVE?

Monica's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly, a brilliant clarity overtook her: this wasn't how the Rose Prince would behave. In spite of all her insistence, the Rose Prince truly was a mere fairytale—but this was not the insight that she had suddenly gained. If this really were a fairytale, if she really was awaiting the coming of a prince, then it would be so much simpler—so much cleaner. This was real; it was messy and complicated and made her heart ache terribly. Yet that was how she knew that what the real Rose Prince had done was not out of malice. Despite all of her confusion and uncertainty, the one thing that Monica understood beyond reproach was that everything that had happened was born from love.

"I can love him," she said, her voice strong again, "because I know that he loves me."

There was a long pause, the weight of the air seeming to deaden even the constant splashes of water flowing down the walls. After many terrible moments, a golden light shone from the floor across the room from Monica. She watched in awe-struck silence as a figure materialized within it—one that was suddenly and inexplicably familiar to her. Tears flooded into her eyes as the light faded, and she ran across the room, throwing her arms around her long-awaited prince.

"Micah," she said, her voice turning to airy wisps halfway through his name. She kissed him repeatedly on the cheek, endowed with new understanding. "You stupid, selfish, wonderful, romantic idiot." Micah glanced around the room in bewilderment.

"Monica?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders. "If you're here, then…did it work?" Monica pulled back with a tearful smile, nodding her head as her lip quivered.

"I can't believe you kept a nice girl like me waiting for seven years," she said, the attempt at sarcasm falling utterly flat in the wake of her overwhelming joy. Micah frowned slightly.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "It didn't seem like I had a choice."

"Of course you did," she said, her voice trembling as she embraced him again. "But you made the right one."

Aquaticus watched in contented silence as Micah escorted Monica out of the cavern—Monica clinging happily to his arm, her fingers interlocked with his. Beyond his chamber, Ondorus awaited them—and, beyond that, an entire town that was only just literally and figuratively waking up. He surveyed everyone thoughtfully, seeing how the return of Micah's presence to their minds brought each of them such joy—albeit with a certain degree of confusion—then turned his gaze towards the Sharance Tree. He smiled to himself as he looked it over, seeing the first buds finally begin to bloom.