I read it over maybe a dozen times, and once I am sure I do not sound like an illiterate imbecile or whiny crybaby, I fold it evenly and slide it into a clean envelope. I'll send this thing in the morning, now where are my stamps?

Another restless sleep, and instead of rising late, I awaken extra early. Groaning, rubbing my eyes, I squint at my surroundings. The world is still dark. What time is it? My eyes adjust to the dark shortly, my clock reads 3:34am.

"Uuuugh." I audibly groan. I sink back into my pillow, hands over my face. "Why does it have to be so eeearly?" I lie there, unmoving, trying to think. Nothing comes to mind. "*Sigh.*"

This is reminiscent of my delivery days… Then I chuckle. "Might as well get up." I say to no one in particular.

Groggily lifting myself onto my feet, I drag myself to the bathroom down the hall and prepare myself for the day. I'm mindlessly standing in the shower when I begin to remember the nightmares which roused me in the first place. They surrounded me again, full of hate and anguish. They strike at me. They pull my hair, slap me, push me down, and kick me while I'm on the ground. My body won't respond, my mouth won't open. I cannot defend myself because for some cruel reason I am paralyzed, just like the first time...

I manage to snap out of it and find myself slumped against the tile wall, the shower pouring onto my face. I must've been dozing off. I scrub especially hard and add extra chilly water, hoping it will sober me up.

Slightly more awake and refreshed, and damn near sparkling, I emerge from the bathroom.

Russet is at my feet to greet me. "Lumie. I thought I heard water running, what are you doing up at this hour?"

I smile. "*Yawn* Actually I still haven't broken out of my morning routine yet. This happens every day, I usually lie there in my bed until I can force myself to go back to sleep. But this time, I decided to start the day early."

"Good for you. Should we start breakfast?"

I scratch my chin. "I'll get to it, as soon as I deliver this letter."

"Oh. But you simply cannot be planning to deliver any mail without me. Are you?"

I shake my head. Then I bend down and offer my hands. "Of course not, you arrived right on time." E climbs up my arm to sit comfortably on my shoulder and I retrieve the letter while slipping on a pair of sandals. There is no chatting this time. Just peaceful silence, as I walk down the stairs, open the front door and quietly slip the letter down the chute.

Now back in the house, what should I make for breakfast, and in Russet's case, dinner? I'm trying to be as respectful as possible, as to not make a clamor of clattering dishes and pots. I get my tools and vessels ready, then rummage through the fridge. My eyes spot something familiar.

"We still have leftover potatoes?" I whisper to myself.

Russet heard that. "Wheee! Let me see! Those potatoes must be there for me!"

There's only a handful left, they're quite large, but still not many in number. Russet drags the potatoes out of the fridge and places them on the countertop, and I know I'm going to have to eat SOMETHING WITH POTATOES AGAIN. I'm looking for a protein, and hopefully some other vegetables for me when I spot another something familiar.

I sigh softly and slap my forehead. "We still have one more sausage to go."

This makes Russet happier. "Haha! Verwildert has excellent tastes."

Well here we go, this was partly my fault. Papa loves the combination of the two and I wanted Russet to try the different types of meats we had- that, and I wanted to showcase my cooking skills. Fine. I'll somehow manage to make a creative dish out of these.

"Which one is that? It looks tough and skinny. And it's so dry."

"Landjäger." I identify.

"And this one is?"

"Kind of like jerky, but a little more tender. And this one is spicy, I tell you. See how deep the color is? That, my friend, is the color you get from seasoning a meat in red wine, sugar, caraway, mustard and white pepper. I can boil it to make it softer if you'd like."

I give em a piece to sample.

"It's so good, I can't decide."

"I'll chop it up into even bits and simmer it with the potatoes to make a hash. I should add carrots, onions and celery too. Oh, and I must add garlic of course, a light coating of olive oil to cover the skillet. Anything else? No. I don't want to lose the flavor of the sausage, that's my main source of seasoning…"

Russet licks es lips. "That sounds like the greatest idea you've had yet!"

Thank you, thank you. As for myself, I'll have to cook a separate batch, include extra spices in addition to some beets for flavor and gumption.

"I'll get the coffee started, perhaps that will wake Verwildert up."

If the smell of my home-cooking doesn't, I don't know what will.

While we're waiting for the potatoes to boil, I chop the meat and vegetables. A dreamy sigh from Russet catches my attention.

"Hm?" I don't mean to ask.

"This is heavenly." E says, not paying attention.

"Huh?" I blurt.

"Oh. It's just that I particularly favor sunrise. This time of the day is the most alluring to me. The birds begin to chirp, sleepy animals rise, dewdrops fall and the sky dims a brilliant mixture of blues. The day is reborn, you could say. It's a time bursting with activity, but all remains peaceful and quiet. It's so dark, yet I feel so bright inside. This time of day is a gem for the earliest of risers."

"I know just how you feel. It's one of my favorite times of day too. I equally enjoy sunset as much as sunrise. The two dualities, just like night and day. I feel like these short moments don't get enough recognition. But you can blame them? Humans are diurnal, not crepuscular like you. Sunrise is quaint and dim, but it brings me ease, the day has started but I don't have to rush or really do anything yet. I can relax and enjoy the world to myself as everyone else sleeps. Sunset is bright, not as quiet but just as calming. It's the time where everyone else is busy preparing to end their day. People head home, clean up, or finish their work."

The mood in the room gets very cozy. I hear a stir upstairs as soon as I get the food in the pan.

"Lumie, you look tired."

"What was that Russet?"

"Your eyes look puffy. How about a cup of coffee?"

Do I really look that terrible? "Um. Why not?"

A mouth-watering scent engulfs the kitchen.

"So how have you been feeling of late?" Russet questions.

"I'm alright. Tired, but alright." And I'm getting tired of being asked this question.

"Ever since you came back with Verwildert two nights ago, you haven't been the same. You look especially tired, and you seem distant. Are you lost in your thoughts?"

"Ah. You've caught me. I'm still stressed about what happened. Papa did fill you in, right?"

"He told me everything. Aren't you happy here? Why does it still bother you so?"

"Oh, Russet. Of course I am. I'm just a bit bitter I guess. That, and I saw and felt things I shouldn't have."

"You're talking about the will-of-the-wisps."

"Y-yeah. Do you have anything to tell me that I may not know already?"

E frowns. "I only know as much about them as Verwildert does. But I can tell you one thing: I've seen them."

"You have?!" I say a little too loudly.

"Yes. Long ago, when I still lived in the Highlands. Wherever the wisps gathered I was sure to steer clear from. They congregate in the most dangerous of environments. Ancient sites of magickal practice, or during dark rituals. The most treacherous of fae are known to be surrounded by them. Some say they are the lost souls of the dead. So far gone that they only hang by a thread of consciousness."

I'm confused. "But, wouldn't that make the wisps… Wraiths?"

"No. It is just one of many, many theories. If you had encountered wraiths that night, you wouldn't be here today. Neither of you would, I'm sorry to say." Russet continues. "Others say they are pure orbs of mana, to be used as a sort of power source. And I have even heard that they represent the souls of deceased animals." E sighs. "No one knows for sure. They appear so rarely, that most wizards have never even seen one. They are legends, even to us."

"But I thought all sources of legend hail from the Otherworld. That they are truths to us and tall tales to the mundane."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Legends are riddled with truth Lumie. Not entirely to be taken as the whole truth. You must learn to differentiate the two."

"My bad."

Papa's heavy footsteps can be heard against the sizzling of the hash.

"Look who woke up." I point out with a smile.

My grandfather enters the kitchen. "Guten morgen." He greets sleepily.

"Guten morgen." Russet and I repeat.

He kisses me on the forehead. "Zat smells delicious Missy."

"It's done. So grab your plates so I can serve you."

"Did you send a letter to Iris yet?" Papa reminds me.

"Already done, Russet and I did it together."

"And just vat vere you doink up so early?" He asks again.

Russet and I glance at each other. "I couldn't sleep."

He grunts in further understanding.

Russet heads off to bed and once again, it's me and my grandfather left to enjoy the day by ourselves.

"Vere you havink bad dreams?"

Ah?! How could he guess so easily?

"You look stressed. And I can only assume sometink like vat happened zat night vould give a girl nightmares."

"Y-yes." I admit.

"My poor girl." He laments.

Silence…

"Vell, come on. Go get dressed."

"Where are we going?"

He stretches and cracks his back. "To zee grocery store. Vee need more food, I haven't bosered to restock in over a month. Besides, I have some errands to do. Join me."

We leave Russet a note on the table and I slip into a pair of ripped jeans, sneakers and a graphic tee. Papa and I go grocery shopping, collect his wages from the bank, sort them accordingly, and return home to begin a full-blown-house-keeping adventure. It was my idea. Russet joins later in the day. We pick up the entire manor the old-fashioned way, save for Russet on certain tasks, who wouldn't get anything done otherwise. We do take a break for lunch, sandwiches and lemonade made by yours truly. We're all tired, yet oddly satisfied by nightfall, and decide to eat whatever it is the fridge to satisfy our needs, instead getting up to cook an entire meal.

"What made you decide to do that?" Russet asks us.

"Missy felt zee need to spiff up zee house." Papa states with a wipe of his brow.

"Again with the mundane methods. Phew! I don't know how they do it." Russet pants.

"Just like we did, but every day for the entirety of their lives."

"Aggh! I don't think I can stand it!" E groans.

It gave me something to do. Today was a day to be busy. To not think about the nightmares, to not think about the people who source them, and to more importantly, get my mind off my husband/professor. I miss him terribly. I want to see him. I want to know what he is doing. And I wouldn't mind another kiss. Oh Lumie, just try to enjoy your break.

Papa and Russet head off to do their daily bonding, while I seclude myself in my room. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't feel like having fun. I just want to fall down and go to sleep. But I'm afraid of going to sleep.

No! Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. Stupid, Lumie. Go to sleep!

So with that, I undress, wash up and turn off the lights. I tuck myself in and close my eyes. Drowsiness washes over me seamlessly. Unfortunately, rest, does not.

This nightmare is different. It's unsettling and uncomfortable. But completely mute. The world is colorless and grey. I'm not being assaulted and I'm not being ridiculed. I'm alone. Lost. I'm walking through endless landscapes. Deserts, mountains, forests, swamps. Every area I traverse, I also come across a familiar figure. Naiara, Mateo, Yoana, a few of my old bullies from high school. They scowl at me, or look away in haste, some look afraid and others are shocked to see me.

I keep walking by.

I confront Lori. Which makes my heartbeat rapid. Her stare is empty, soulless, devoid of feeling. It hurts me the most. I open my mouth to speak but no sound follows through, I must be mute as well.

I see people from Iris now, Potsdam, the brownies, Virginia, Ellen, Donald, Minnie, Jacob, the twins… With them I am greeted and comforted, and color faintly returns to the world. I regret having to leave them, very much wanting to stay. But my legs keep moving.

Then I see Papa. The world is bright again and he opens his arms to embrace me. I run to him, completely joyful, feeling that my journey is over and the world is finally fixed.

Instead, the world around me melts, and the colors distort. Papa remains firm, but something is very wrong. He is stuck in his position, a smile plastered on his face, arms still open, awaiting my entry. I cannot reach him. I'm running and running, and running, but I'm not going anywhere. Papa too begins to melt. Flames erupt in the background. Smoke billows, embers fly and flicker. I want to scream, I want him to get away. It's dangerous! Papa, watch out! Run, run to me! I can't reach you! At least, that's what I would say, if I could speak.

Still he stays, devoted and patient. Burning, melting, singed away piece by piece. Tears fall from my eyes now, and with every fiber of my being I want to shout, I want to MOVE. Faces appear in the smoke and embers. Angela, Kyo. And in the very flames, Damien. They laugh and cheer at my panic. No, no, no! PAPA! …He erupts into flames, shrinking into a grotesque mass of charred flesh, until he is nothing but ash.

The chaos subsides and I am left with the remains of my grandfather. I cry, I scream, I fall to my knees in utter disbelief. Just as I reach the very depths of sorrow I feel a sensation in my spine. A painful and sharp prick, then immense chill. That of falling. And sure enough I am. I am falling into a black pit of nothingness, away from my grandfather. I can feel my body going cold, my limbs numb, my mouth slack and my eyes heavy. It's getting hard to breathe. The abyss which I find myself falling down is closing in from all sides. An enormous pressure hits my core, like I am being both crushed and pulled apart from every angle. It's unbearable. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!

Then it stops… I am weak, unable to move. But I am no longer falling. I am floating. Gently, I am placed down onto something soft, warm. It makes me feel safe. I cannot see, all is white now. I hear a voice. "Lumina." The familiar British accent urges me to awaken.

"Yah!" I bolt up from my bed. I don't move, unsure of myself. Where am I? What happened? I let it all soak in. I'm in my bed, in my nightwear. In my room? "*SIIIGH*" I exasperate, falling back into my pillow with relief. "It was just a dream. Just a… Horrible, horrible dream." I whisper to myself.

Still shaky and woozy, I rub my temples. Once again, I find myself wondering why. Why does this keep happening to me? What does it all mean? I snuggle myself under the covers, curl up into a little ball and take deep breaths. I stay like that, but find myself unable to go to back to sleep.

"Arrgh!" I grumble and growl. I toss the blankets aside and begin my day. Extra early by the looks of it. It's only 2:10 in the morning.

The rest of my day is typical. I decide not to cook and let them feed themselves, feeling uninspired to do so. That particular dream bothers me all day, and the other two leave me to my thoughts. I wander around the house aimlessly, sit in the backyard for hours on end, and I lightly snack on things rather than help myself to a full meal. I'm mindlessly tapping on the piano keys, unable to recall a tune when Papa taps me on my shoulder.

"Bored?"

I nod in agreement.

"I von't boser you. But I vant you to see zis."

I turn around. It's a book. He hands me a large, tanned-yellow binder-looking thing. It has no label, but it does have pins and stickers and stamps on it. I open it up to find myself delighted. "It's a scrapbook." I say happily.

"Zat's right. It's ours. Perhaps it vill help take your mind off of sinks." He pats my back and exits the room.

I rise from the piano stool and seat myself in my favorite chair. Then I begin skimming the pages.

I bring a hand to my mouth, deeply moved. It's us! There we are. That's us when we first met, after my first week of lessons. And there we are at the park! That's us when we got caught in the rain, and when we took a stroll in the snow. Here we are at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Also imprinted into the book are mementos of each particular event. Flowers, coins, flat stones, feathers and leaves. There we are at the zoo. I keep flipping and flipping, nostalgia hitting me hard. It doesn't make me sad, it makes me smile like an idiot. As I turn each page, I go forward in time. I remember that Yuletide. Hehe. Oh, that fruit cake tasted so gross. How did I not notice all the pictures we've taken together? Has he really been keeping track that long? I stumble across a few pictures of myself. I wasn't aware of these, I'm not looking at the camera.

I see a sad little girl, sitting under a tree.

Then I see the same little girl, a bit older, staring blankly out of a rainy window.

A younger version of the girl is fast asleep on her favorite chair.

Here she is- where I am, poking my feet into a river.

This is a picture of me from behind, walking far ahead, alone.

I find the most recent addition to the album, laden with sea shells. It's us at the beach. I'm left feeling truckloads better than when I started the day, and even though I don't get much sleep. I am not visited by nightmares.

Aside from this nightmare, my break persists. I'm still not getting enough sleep, though. I spend the majority of the night tossing and turning. I keep fretting about it. About my last nightmare, and about every little thing I can nitpick at really. My past, my time in school, my strange powers, the willow wisps, the marriage…

Within the next week, aside from my restless nights, I relatively enjoy my vacation. Now free from the shackles of potatoes and sausage, we enjoy a variety of tasty dishes. Some days we have sandwiches and salads, other days we eat pizza and fries. We enjoy Chinese takeout and halal food, and occasionally enjoy desserts like ice cream and shaved ice. The three of us tell jokes, exchange stories, take walks and enjoy quiet time indoors.

In between that time I receive a response from Professor Grabiner, filling me with giddiness and anticipation. Not that I can let Papa or Russet see that side of me, of course.

I struggle to finish my breakfast without looking like I'm in a hurry. With politeness, I excuse myself and when out of sight, rush up to my room, hop on my bed and giggle girlishly to begin reading my letter. I'm such a fool. What the girls would say if they saw me behaving like this! Heehee. Good thing they're not here. I inhale the scent of fresh parchment and open the letter.

"Dear Lumina,

I would first like to apologize for my delayed response. I can assure you, were it not for my especially busy schedule of late, this letter would have reached you at least three days earlier. I have been covering the remedial courses for Petunia nowadays in her place, save the white course. You can expect a response within the week from now on. Excuses aside, I have thoroughly read your previous letter, and found myself having to scrutinize it multiple times. The anomaly of which you experienced is one so rare, I had to engage in extra research to investigate the matter. I am afraid I was unable to find useful lore or current data on the matter of the wisps, but I shall persist in my research.

What I believe you had undergone whilst accompanying your grandfather can be described as a form of possession. As you must be aware of, spirits can occasionally possess objects and to a lesser extent- living people, if they are powerful enough. I theorize based on your vivid description, that willow wisps are a primitive form of spirit creature. Those that possess a very simple consciousness, ruled mostly by instinct. If what you recalled isn't merely fantasy, then I can also theorize that the wisps are naturally drawn to great gatherings of energy- white magick to be precise. This is stated in the loggings that I was able to find, and that is probably due to the immense reaction paranormal activity generates. Your interactions with the wisps made me question the nature of their existence, but their queer behavior is what led to my next thesis:

The willow wisps gather in areas of great magickal power, and in turn absorb the surrounding environment. With the absorption of this energy, the wisps also inherit the initial memory of the space. This is a common side effect held by many artifacts, and one of the drawbacks to ritualistic practices. If someone with an affinity for white magick were to approach them, the wisps may in turn reveal memories directly connected to the individual. But this is a symbiotic relationship, exposing past memories costs mana. Therefore, the willow wisps will deplete the individual of some mana in exchange for a viewing of the lost memories.

This would explain the specificity of the memories you were relayed, and why you were able to relive them so convincingly. That also explains why you would feel ill and weak afterwards, as it is a matter of give and exchange. Delving further into the issue, this may pose a possible explanation as to why not just anyone can see the wisps or make contact with them. It would explain why they gather in the first place- that is, to obtain mana, which stabilizes their existence. It also explains why they would even bother with other beings at all, given they have a consciousness, it would also mean that they are capable of making decisions. If the wisps have nothing to relate the individual to, they have no reason to show themselves. Lastly, it would explain to us why they cannot be summoned or contracted, like normal spirit folk. I suppose this could be possible, but only if the wisps were to make first contact, and if the bearer had a means of harnessing their power.

This is all I could gather on the subject, but I am nowhere near finished with my studies. The ideal scenario would be to lure willow wisps to a specific location, and by the means of a ward, hold them captive long enough to engage in rigorous examination. Alas, I have recognized potholes in my theory. For one instance, it is unclear as to whether or not white mages alone can attract the wisps, on a human standpoint. The recorded sightings of the wisps all derive from the testimonies of white mages and Otherworld denizens. If that were not the case, perhaps they would be a much more common sighting- that however does not explain why some of the testimonies hold stories of seeing strange visions and suffering from amnesia, while others only recall seeing the wisps float around and nothing more.

It is here that I find myself at a standstill. With that, I hope you are well, and I advise you not to let the encounter bring you stress. It was a chance meeting, and nothing more. It will likely, not ever happen again. Before I conclude this letter, there is a serious matter I must inform you of before I forget:

When you return to the academy, Petunia has instructed that you only engage in your studies solely using a catalyst of your choice. You will be prohibited from using magick otherwise. You are not under oath, so should an emergency situation make itself apparent, you are excused from this rule. This is a trial period, only to be tested out for the entirety of the upcoming school year. She and I are both curious to see if you are even capable of wielding a wand. This does has it disadvantages, for you will be held fully responsible for any failures during the course of your school career. This is not up for debate, it is already decided.

Yours- Hieronymous

P.S. I would keep close watch around Petunia. She has been quite anxious of late, even more so when you are mentioned. I do not yet know what is bothering her, but it makes her wary of me as well. Normally I would not see the issue even worth mentioning, as I can only presume she wishes to meddle, but she has been participating in individual study, spending a large amount of her time consorting with those brownies and logging from books in her personal collection. That collection being restricted to everyone but the instructors at the academy- dangerous and ancient knowledge. From the decade I have known her, she is not one to use her free time to dabble in such things. I will keep you posted."

The letter leaves my mind blank. I read it again. Taking a breath, I set it down on my lap.

His theory is almost solid, and that's based on my description alone- not firsthand experience. I hope he can find something else, even if it's just one more thing. So he has his hands full I see. And The Headmistress… What is she up to? I shiver. I hope I'm not in trouble. I mean… I have to use a wand?!

"Aaaargh!" I pound my fists on the wood of the bed. Sophomore year is going to suck!