Hello there, darlings! I'm back! I hope you are all well and healthy and enjoying the summer break.

Sorry for the long delay. This chapter was a real pain in the ass. It refused to write itself and the ending... UGH!

I've known since the beginning this chapter would happen. I knew what I wanted to happen, had it all planned out, and then I just couldn't write it. You have no idea how many times I've rewritten this nightmare of a chapter.

That said, this is a major chapter. Very important. And minus the last two pages, I'm really happy with how it turned out to be. I hope you will all enjoy it as well.
*do forgive me for the tiny cliffhanger*

The next chapter has an outline but I've barely started to write it. Let's hope I will have more luck with writing that one and I won't be unnecessarily distracted by other fandoms. One of them is not so subtly referenced to in this chapter.

I thank you all for the patience and I pray I won't keep you waiting for the next chapter quite as long.

Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

Usual disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club or the cover of this story.

I tapped with the toe of my shoe on the floor, my eyes dancing over the screen and searching for that one title that could save me from this endless frustration. One answer, that was all I needed. Just one. Anything to help me, to guide me to more answers. Just one simple thing that I could underline in my notebook rather than scratch.

"The Arthurian legends are stories about the character of King Arthur,"claimed Encyclopedia."They form an important part of Britain's national mythology. Arthur may be based on a real person from history, possibly a Celtic warlord of the late 400s CE. The legends, however, have little to do with history. They blend Celtic Mythology with medieval romance, and feature such well-known elements as the magic sword Excalibur, the Knights of the Round Table, and the search for the Holy Grail, the cup from which Jesus drank during the Last Supper. Arthur's court at Camelot has been idealized as a kind of perfect society, with a just wise king guiding his happy people."

"King Arthur was a legendary British leader who, according to medieval histories and romances, led the defence of Britain against Saxon invaders in the late 5th and early 6th centuries," was what Wikipedia said on the matter and I consulted it despite any well respecting scholar would claim that it was not to be trusted. "The details of Arthur's story are mainly composed of Welsh and English folklore and literary invention, and modern historians generally agree that he is unhistorical. The sparse historical background of Arthur is gleaned from various sources, including-"

Then there was britannica. "Arthurian legend, the body of stories and medieval romances, known as the matter of Britain, centring on the legendary king Arthur. Medieval writers, especially the French, variously treated stories of Arthur's birth, the adventures of his knights, and the adulterous love between his knight Sir Lancelot and his queen, Guinevere. This last situation and the quest for the Holy Grail (the vessel used by Christ at the Last Supper and given to Joseph of Arimathea) brought about the dissolution of the knightly fellowship, the death of Arthur, and the destruction of his kingdom."

Google Scholar was not much help either. The truly promising articles could only be read when one had scholar access, and since the good people of Earth did not believe magic existed, Alfea didn't exactly make the list of schools which were granted that. Not that I expected to find much answers in them. Just the previews said enough.

For example, the preview on jstor said this: "To the question 'Did Arthur exist?' a straight yes-or-no answer cannot be given. More is involved here than historical doubt. With, say, Robin Hood, the straight answer is likewise excluded, but solely by insufficiency of data. A new find might some day make it possible. With Arthur the difficulty cuts deeper. For any ordinary inquirer, the answer 'yes' implies the reality of the Arthur of romance, the idealized medieval monarch, at the centre of a sort of montage that includes Guinevere and Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table. Since Arthur in that sense is a literary creation and didn't exist, the answer 'yes' is wrong. but the answer 'no' is also wrong. It implies that Arthur is fictitious as Don Quixote is fictitious, that he has no factual basis at all."

The few documentaries on YouTube I had quickly gone through agreed with everything mentioned above: in the time after the Roman Empire left Britannia – a period that became known as the Dark Ages – little reliable sources were written down and saved, but the legends of Arthur were shared orally and later romanticized. The illegitimate son of a king raised in secret, rising to power under the guidance of Merlin, uniting his people against foreign invaders, and ruling just and kind until he was betrayed and eventually killed, which led to the ruin of his kingdom of Camelot.

But while Arthur might be based on several real people and their actions – a Roman military commander; a king of the Britons who helped a Roman Emperor and subdued a civil war; a Romano-British leader renowned for campaigns against the Saxons; possibly the eldest son of an Irish king who was not king but fought the wars for his brother after he chose a monastic life – most scholars agreed that he was fiction, created by Geoffrey of Monmouth.

Yet…

"Oh, Earth… I haven't visited that realm in centuries. It's a shame all the Earth Fairies were driven to extinction by that dreadful Arthur figure, or you might have grown up in a most wonderful realm, sweet girl. How different your life would have been if the fates had been kinder to them."

Those were Barbatea's exact words, the ones she had shared with me when I came to say goodbye, before I returned to Earth for the midterm break. She could not have known that the name Arthur was a famous one on Earth, that the myth of legendary King Arthur was adapted again and again. Practically everyone on Earth knew who he was. But despite all the fast number of movies, series, books and plays that existed, none of them had ever mentioned he was the reason Earth lost all its magic.

Unfortunately, Alfea's library had little to no records on Earth. Or they didn't store them in the part accessible to students. Tecna had promised me before we had all gone home that she would look into it since she was much more at home with the Realm Wide Web than I was, but over the weekend she had texted me what little information she had found and an apology that that was everything she managed to find.

It had contradicted what Barbatea had mentioned in passing.

According to the records on RWW, a group of evil sorcerers who had called themselves the Wizards of the Black Circle were the ones responsible for the extinction, not the legendary King Arthur. They had claimed the power of the Earth Fairies as their own in their quest for unlimited power and the rule of Earth. Or that was what the statements of the handful magical creatures who had made it out alive said. They had found sanctuary in the Magic Dimension, having fled Earth before the "purge" had reached its height. Tecna had been unable to find any records on the Wizards themselves, not even what they looked like, and I as a citizen of Earth hadn't heard of them either. If what the late survivors of their purge claimed was true, then the wizards wouldn't be winning the award for "Earth's best ruler" anytime soon. After all, the planet was pretty much going to hell.

I suppressed the urge to throw the monitor across the room. My investigation on Earth itself was just another dead-end. I'd hoped against my better judgement that I would find something – anything – that would point me into the right direction, something humans would overlook since they did not believe in magic, something I had not noticed before due to dismissing the notion as well. I knew better now, but that something – if it existed – continued to elude me.

I gritted my teeth, tapping the toe of my shoe ever harsher against the floor. Stella would be appalled if she saw me, reminding me once more that I was practically murdering my shoes and she would not stand for it. Luckily Stella was not here but back at the house, still fast asleep and blissfully unaware that I was working on my day off. Another thing she wouldn't be too happy about.

I scratched a firm line through the last article on my list of things that might prove to be helpful and slammed the notebook close with more force than was necessary. Either I wasn't looking in the right place or someone had done an awfully thorough job with covering their tracks. I couldn't find anything about these Wizards of the Black Circle, or their connection to King Arthur, or if Arthur was even responsible for the disappearance of Earth magic.

The only thing I had noticed was a correlation. After Arthur's supposed reign, no new myths or stories about Fairies, magic or anything supernatural emerged until the birth of Bram Stoker's Dracula. And that wasn't just in Great Britain. Before Arthur the world was filled with stories about Gods and Goddesses, mystical creatures, heroic deeds and whatnot.

Afterwards?

Nothing.

Even the mythologies of the indigenous people of the Americas and the Aboriginals originated from before that time. They continued to call upon their sacred deities and worship them, but there were no new tales of things happening magically or a God or Goddess walking among the humans. It just all stopped.

Then there were the things I had never even considered. Mysterious artifacts, places, and sculptures left behind that the people nowadays had trouble explaining, or that were shrouded in conspiracy theories. Uffington White Horse and Stonehenge back at home? I had not considered them the fingerprints left behind by the Earth Fairies until I had stumbled upon a website that dedicated itself to proving aliens were responsible, that extra-terrestrial life existed and the proof was right in front of our noses. The same went for the stones of Easter Island and the Nazca Lines in Peru. And with the knowledge I now possessed…

I couldn't deny that fairies using their powers to create such artwork seemed more logical than humans, and with me living in another galaxy most of the time I could not deny that extra-terrestrial life did in fact exist. Hell, I came from another universe, as if that was not enough to give anyone a raging headache.

"A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…" suddenly didn't seem quite as far-fetched anymore. I wondered if I could request that to be my next stop if my life here didn't work out. I would get to meet the DILF Obi-Wan Kenobi, the BAMF by the name of Padme Amidala, along with Yoda troll the Jedi Order I would, and I would not pass the opportunity to set Palpatine on fire.

I doubted I would get that wish, though it was nice to dream.

I chewed on my lip, clicking on a supposed image of the famed man at the centre of my investigation. "If Arthur was responsible for Earth magic disappearing or at least had a hand in it – and that is a big IF – then why do humans see him as a great king? Shouldn't those who witnessed the beauty of magic speak about a tyrant? A killer? A destroyer?" I clenched my hands into fists until they cracked before relaxing my fingers again. "It doesn't make any sense!"

My inner musings were interrupted by the familiar jingle of a bell, alerting me that a customer had stepped into the shop. I sighed somewhat disappointed. The morning had been pretty boring, which had allowed me to continue my research. It was something to keep me busy and my mind off the fast-approaching deadline. D-Day, though whether the "D" stood for Dragon, Death or Disappointment remained to be seen.

At the end of my break, I would have to return to Domino, settle in the Sanctuary of the Dragon – which I still had to find under the mountains of snow, something I was not looking forward to – and then I had exactly two minutes to bind the Dragon's Flame to me. That tiny time frame was enough to make me anxious but if I failed, I would either die painfully when the full power of the Dragon burned me from the inside out or I would have to wait an entire year before I could try again.

Shockingly, I did not like those odds.

It had to happen on one specific day, during sunrise. I thought February was a weird month, even if time passed differently in the Magic Dimension than it did on Earth, but Valtor had explained that the first week of what Earth called February was the start of the new year on Pyros and Domino. And a new "year" on Domino was not just 365 days that would soon come to pass. No, once a year the citizens of Domino and Pyros – which were just the dragons, but that was a minor detail – were extraordinarily powerful when the "spirit of the Dragon" graced them with its presence and blessed them for another cycle.

Basically it was Domino's equivalent of Pentecost.

It was called Opes Lasairtaich, the Day of the Dragon Gift, and according to legend at sunrise the Dragon blended with the light and blessed everyone with a connection to It, whether they were human or dragon. The blessing started at the first light and then slowly faded over the rest of the day. Still, one day a year the dragons on Pyros and the citizens of Domino were even more powerful than usual. It was even said that on that one day, the people got a brief look into what it was like to be a Keeper of the Dragon's Flame.

Opes Lasairtaich was a day of equality, of celebration, and of love. It was custom to come together as friends, family and neighbours and express one's gratitude and affection for one another. With words and actions, not with presents. The latter was even considered insulting. Such feelings could not be bought, or be expressed with materialistic items.

The Royal Family would open the doors to their home and share what they had with their subjects. Food, drink and laughter would flow generously. On that day – and the following week since magical creatures enjoyed a party as much as anyone, possibly even more – no one went hungry, thirsty or cold. There was no violence and crime, health blossomed and no one died, fell sick or was even injured. The births were painless as well, and the children born on Opes Lasairtaich were believed to bring luck, to have been blessed by the Dragon itself. That they more often than not pledged themselves to that Dragon, dedicated themselves to it and serve it for the entirety of their lives, came as to no surprise. The Dragon had blessed them, therefore it was only logical that they do something for it in return.

Or so Valtor had told me after I had inquired after the peculiar date. It was odd, but as he had given me a brief glimpse of the culture that I belonged to, a deep pit had clawed into my heart, a homesickness I had not experience before paired with a grief worse than when I had woken up in this universe.

Opes Lasairtaich was something I would never get to experience. The blessing, yes, but not the celebration. Even if I succeeded in healing the realm, if I rebuilt the royal palace and welcomed people into my realm, that part of Domino would never return. Darkar and the Ancestresses had taken that from me. They had destroyed a realm in their quest for the Dragon's Flame and wiped out an entire culture. I was the only survivor and no matter what I would do, I could never change that. A culture needed more than one person to flourish, especially if that person was too young to remember the customs.

I had not realized that until Valtor had told me about Opes Lasairtaich and what it had meant to the people of Domino. Valtor hadn't either if I was to go on the odd behaviour he had displayed afterwards. He had grown uncharacteristically quiet and snappish. If I so much as breathed the wrong way, he would all but bite my head off. I realised now that it wasn't just Darkar who lashed out when he felt cornered. Valtor did the exact same thing, and emotions apparently made him feel very cornered.

I flipped my notebook back open to gaze at another thing that plagued my thoughts, one I was currently less obsessing over since it was connected to Opes Lasairtaich. "I too am a stolen child from Domino," I had written down, the words Valtor had spoken so long ago to me when I had confided in him that I felt as if I did not belong anywhere. "Taken by others to be used as a puppet."

The cartoon might have described Valtor as something the Ancestresses had created out of darkness and the tiny spark of the Dragon at their disposal, but I had come to learn the reality was much more complicated. How I still wasn't sure, but every word Valtor used had a meaning. He had not called himself a stolen child of Domino for the fun of it, nor had he described himself as a puppet. And then there was the fact that his binding spell required Opes Lasairtach, the one day all of the magical creatures with a tie to the Dragon AND to Domino and/or Pyros were at their most powerful.

I traced the words I had written down. "Tie to Domino. Born on it? Fast knowledge of its customs. Uncharacteristically quiet and moodier than usual due to grieving its destruction and the loss of its culture? Was considered the last Keeper of the Dragon's Flame which spared him from execution. Do all Keepers need to be born on Domino, just as the Guardians needed to be?" I wondered if anyone even knew the answers to my questions, or if they were Valtor's secrets alone.

"When is a monster not a monster?" I murmured silently to myself, gazing into the eyes I had sketched in the right corner, repeating the words of one of my favourite poems: "Stay Here" by Caitlyn Siehl. The eyes belonged to the man who was complicating my life in more ways than one. "All monsters were human once. Were you as well?"

"Bloom?"

My head snapped up when a voice called my name, a voice I had grown as familiar with as my own. Just a few feet away from me stood the somewhat familiar shape I had come to associate with that voice, except there were changes as well. Big changes.

I gaped. My gaze still met two dark blue eyes – little crowfeet wrinkled in the corners, a clear indication of the silent laughter – and a smile almost magically pulled itself to my lips at the sparkle in them. Those beautiful eyes were still framed by unruly black hair that fell into the face with a natural elegance and casualty that no stylist could recreate. But I had to blink – having to restrain myself from rubbing my eyes – and take a thorough second look because the rest of the man before me was utterly foreign.

Where were the glasses? The oversized hoodies? The tall but lanky boy whose cheeks had turned bright red whenever I had grabbed his hand or pressed a kiss on his cheek? The boy who was easily rendered speechless by a mere kiss? The one who had wormed his way into my heart simply by visiting me every day as a dutiful friend to share all that I had missed at school? Who had hardly left my side once I had returned to it? The boy who had essentially helped me – saved me in a way – fit into my new life here?

"Andy?" I could barely believe my eyes. A smirk that was a little sheepish but also a little cocky spread over the somewhat familiar face. "Andy Dayton?"

My ex-boyfriend was wearing ripped jeans, a shirt he hadn't bothered to properly button up, and a leather jacket that made his arms – oh, he had definitely gotten buffier because I would have remembered those arms! – look sinfully good. And that smirk! Where had the awkward yet sweet young man I had dated for two years disappear to?

I was dreaming. I had to be. The Andy I knew would never be confident enough to pull this off. He would not even consider wearing a leather jacket or not properly buttoning up his shirt.

Andy laughed, the sparkle in his eyes growing. "Hey, Bloom."

A warmth spread through my body, finally settling in my heart, at the familiar sound. I loved that sound. Andy was quick with a laugh and a joke, and the fact that he could almost effortlessly crack me up until I was crying had been something I had never experienced before, least of all in my life as Sybil Blackburn.

What was that quote shippers on the internet liked to use? "The difference between "like", "love", and "in love" is the same as the difference between "now", "a while" and "forever"." Especially the Delena shippers tended to use it to justify the three big loves Elena had had over her short lifespan. "Now" was Matt, "a while" was Stefan, and "forever" was Damon. And whether I agreed with them or not, the definition was something I could find myself in.

I loved Andy. I truly did and I would always carry him in my heart. How could I not? When I needed a shoulder to cry on, he would come running, dropping everything to be there for me. When I was down and my depression weighed heavily on me, he would not stop until I was clutching my stomach and begging him to stop telling those godawful jokes of his. When I lost myself in my studies and the worry of failing suffocated me, he would show up with whatever I needed and either pry me away or test me to prove I knew enough, depending on the mood I was in.

I loved him, but I had never been or would be in love with him. And that was a good thing as well. I had always been the important one in our relationship, something I had hated. It was always about what I needed or wanted. Everything else came second. And it was why – after graduation – I had ended the relationship. I could never tell him just how much I owed him, how much he had helped me, but I had the power to set him free and let him worry about himself for once.

Something that clearly had worked in his favour.

"Good God! I hardly recognized you!" I stepped away from the counter, chuckling when Andy instantly opened his arms with a grin, even beckoning me forward with his hands. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, as I had done so many times before. My body instantly lost all tension, melting against his. At least that superpower of his hadn't changed. And he still wore the same aftershave, the one he had picked out after he and Mike had spent an afternoon browsing through the many options. My eyes teared up at the memory. "It's so good to see you…"

I didn't mean to sound so wishful, but holding him made me nostalgic. Andy represented simpler times, where my biggest worry had been whether I would pass my exams or not. And with the last few weeks I had had – and the numerous mental breakdowns – I found myself suddenly wishing for those simpler time, that the two of us could return to high school and not have to worry about our futures. Simply live.

"It's good to see you too, Bloom." Andy's arms tightened a little around me, his nose pressing down against my shoulder. "I've missed you."

"Hmm-hmm." I smiled, pulling away from the embrace so I could meet his eyes. "Forgive me if I don't quite believe that. I mean…" I gestured to him. "Look at you! You sure know how to make a girl regret breaking up with you! If this isn't payback, I don't know what is!"

Andy laughed. "And that there is exactly why I missed you. While New York might have been good to me, my peers rarely get my jokes. You always do. And—" His eyes roamed shamelessly over me, his eyes sparkling. "Damn, Bloom. Just when I thought you couldn't possibly get even more beautiful, you go and prove me wrong again. If I go down on my knees and beg, will you take me back?"

"Oh, be still my beating heart." I swatted his chest playfully. "Good to know you can still charm the panties of a grandmother."

Andy's grin widened and I internally groaned, realising my mistake too late. One of my British slangs that stuck around and Andy would never pass an opportunity to tease me about it.

"What is with you and the underwear of old ladies? Your obsession is a little disturbing." He quirked an eyebrow when I rolled my eye dramatically. "If you want, I can get you a pair for your birthday. I did miss it last month."

I stuck out my tongue. "I stand by what I've said plenty of time: you should have tried to become a comedian rather than a musician."

Andy's eyes sparkled. "Nah. I'm good where I am. You are and always will be the only one who thinks I'm funny."

I smiled warmly at him, this conversation feeling so familiar and safe that I leaned up and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Oh, Andy. I've missed you too. More than I realised." When I landed back on my heels, I found the usual flush decorating his cheeks. I chuckled. At least some things hadn't changed. "But while I'm ecstatic to see you… What are you doing here?!" I demanded to know with a delighted laugh. "You should be in New York, wooing the unsuspecting single city-girls with your boyish charms, good looks and wicked music skills, not lamenting old times in Gardena with li'l ol' me!"

The smile on his face dropped so quickly that my stomach turned. Even more when his aura – until that point bright yellow and bouncy – abruptly twisted into a deep grey, its sharp edges a dull yellow.

My own smile evaporated, worry gnawing at my insides. "What happened?"

Andy bowed his head, his bottom lip quivering. "Amma passed away two days ago."

I gasped in horror. "Oh, Andy!" I quickly wrapped my arms around him again, cradling his head against my shoulder. "I'm so sorry! What happened?"

I remembered Mrs. Eleanora "Amma" Dayton-Presley fondly. After the unexpected death of her son – Andy's father – she had moved in with her daughter-in-law and grandson. Andy got his musical talents from her, and no matter how much the family had struggled she had always encouraged him to follow his dream of becoming a professional musician.

Whenever the two of us went over to his place, she would pull him to the piano and they would make beautiful music together. She had the voice of an angel, despite her old age. She had even taught me how to play Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" on the piano. I had asked her several times whether she was related to America's most famous Presley, a question she'd never answered. She'd only ever petted my hand and smiled mischievously.

And now I would never learn the answer.

That she was no longer among the living… I had trouble wrapping my head around it. She was a woman with such spirit, her eyes always sparkling and full of life much like her grandson's. She was one of those people who never got ill, who didn't even seem to age. The ones you expected to live forever, even while knowing that mortality was part of life.

Andy melted into my arms, resting his chin on my shoulder and clutching at me like I was a lifeline. I could feel his hands shaking from their spot on the small of my back. How he managed to be so cheerful and teasing earlier I had no idea, but I admired him for it. If I had lost someone like Amma – a second mother figure – I would have been a mess.

I had barely been able to function after discovering the truth about myself, which did not even remotely come close to what he was going through.

"She-she…" Andy's voice was broken. "She just…"

"Shh." I waved my fingers through his hair, soothing the back of his head. "It's alright. Take your time. You don't need to say anything." I closed my eyes against a new burning sensation in my eyes, tightening my grip on him as he started to shake. "Let it out, luv. Let it out."

I briefly wondered what the people passing the shop would see, what they would think if they peered inside and saw us standing like that. I dismissed it quickly from my mind. If they had a problem with it, they could shove it up their ass. My friend needed comfort, a moment to grieve in private. He might not have entered the shop to seek it but that did not mean he didn't need it. And I would give it to him. After everything he had done for me, it was the least I could do.

"Haemorrhagic stroke."

I paused amidst pouring our tea to shoot him a worried glance. He was sitting on one of the stools in the back of the shop, elbows resting on his knees, head bent. He sounded like a lost little boy, but what worried me most was the aura surrounding him. The pointy edges had sharpened and were taking on almost claw-like forms. I had never seen anything like it and that made me nervous for more than one reason. I was slowly becoming a bit of an expert at reading auras and reacting accordingly, but this one? The claws and the position…

Most auras surrounded a person entirely, like a permanent glow that engulfed them like a bubble. But Andy's was—well, off-centred. Part of him was not even covered in an aura while the space beside him was. And it was pulsating, more than usual auras and they basically beat like a heart.

I eyed him worriedly. "It's like a bomb that can explode at any moment…"

"It just…" Andy's voice broke and the words fell silent. The tears were still clinging to his cheeks, more of them had to be clouding his sight. He swallowed thickly, continuing in nothing but a broken whisper: "I talked to her just the day before, over the phone. She sounded perfectly alright. That morning—mom had breakfast with her. She was in her usual mood, teasing mom about needing to start dating again. She had even showed her how to use Tinder. Everything was just fine, until—"

I closed my eyes, fighting against a batch of new tears, and silently finished that sentence. "Until it wasn't."

The words drifted around the silent shop, seemingly vibrating with grief. I had closed it after Andy had somewhat calmed down in my arms. I had led him to the back of the shop and urged him to sit, put the kettle on, and then flipped the sign to "closed". Andy had barely moved when I had come back, not even commented on the whole kettle thing. Usually, he would crack at least one joke about my tendency to "put the kettle on" or come running with a cup of tea whenever someone was upset. Note that we weren't in England or try to sound posh by faking a British accent. He always sounded more Australian than British and like a bad Jack Sparrow rip-off.

"There should be a captain in there somewhere," he would mimic with a shit-eating grin whenever I forgot to add the word. And I would roll my eyes fondly.

I chewed on my lip, tapping the toe of my shoe on the floor as I resumed pouring our tea. It was the only sound: water being poured and a shoe being tapped. I was torn between feeling glad I hadn't put music on and regretting it. On the one hand there was Vanessa's rule about not playing any music when someone was coming in for a mourning piece, not to mention that it seemed almost disrespectful with how upset Andy was. On the other hand, there was Amma and her love for music. She hated – had hated – silence. She would not want her grandson to turn his back on that what they had both loved with every fibre of their being, not even for a moment.

"Here." I grabbed one of his hands and pushed the cup of tea softly but forcefully into it. "It's Chamomile tea. I have it on the good authority of both Vanessa and my friend Flora that it helps."

Andy shot me a ghost of a smile, wrapping both hands around the cup. The liquid shook visibly and my heart went out to him. I knelt before him, wrapping my hands around his and steadying them. A new batch of tears started to roll down his cheeks and I sighed, resting my head against his knee in comfort.

I wished for not the first time that I was more like Carson, or Flora. Carson had had the ability to wrap an arm around your shoulders and push tea into your hands and your mood just instantly bettered. He always knew what to do or say to change the mood. And Flora… Sweet, wonderful Flora whose embrace was made out of pure love. In her arms all troubles disappeared, emotions settled back down, and every obstacle melted away like winter in the early spring light.

I hated this, not knowing what to do or say to make him feel better, to somehow turn his unstable aura around. There were no words I could speak that would ease his pain, no embrace I could give that would melt the broken pieces together.

I was useless.

I blinked against the tears, against the frustration that despite all the power I possessed, I could not help my friend. "If only Amma had been sick. I could have healed her."

But there was no reviving the dead. Ophelia made that abundantly clear when we had started our healing lessons. Many had tried, but they had never succeeded. Either the person remained dead or those who were brought back were—Ophelia hadn't gotten into the details but I imagined something along the lines of Knut's ghouls.

We sat like that until the tea had gone cold. Until my knees hurt and I could barely feel my legs. Until Andy's hands didn't shake underneath my fingers anymore and his breathing had somewhat evened. I refused to let go of him, even as I rose to unsteady legs and took a seat beside him. I held his hand firmly clasped into mine, running my thumb over the back of it when it started to shake even in the slightest. That I had learned from Flora and Stella, who tended to do that with me when I was upset. It worked wonders, though I had yet to figure out why.

"When mom came home from work—" His breath hitched for a second and I feared he would start crying again. He didn't. Just took a few shallow breaths before continuing. "She was still sitting there. At the table. With her half-eaten breakfast and—" He choked, tears gathering in his eyes. I tightened my grip on his hand, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. "—and that smil-sm-smile…"

"I'm sorry," I whispered and I meant every word. "I'm so sorry, Andy. I can't imagine…" I swallowed the words back because that was the truth. I had no idea what he was going through. Waking up in this universe was possibly the closest thing I had come to true grief but it was in no way comparable to what he was dealing with. "But at least she died quickly. Peacefully. She would have wanted that. A long sickbed would have been hell for it. I know it isn't much of a comfort to you or changes the pain you feel, but try to find some strength in that." I rolled his hands between my own. "She died just as she lived."

I instantly wished I could take my words back. They sounded cruel, wrong. I mentally kicked myself. "She died just as she lived? Try to get some strength in that? Are you fucking serious? Why don't you punch him in the nose and call him a little shit while you're at it?"

"Yeah…" Andy's eyes were distant, unfocussed and still filled to the brink with tears, but he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, this is what she wanted…"

"But you still miss her and that is perfectly normal," I reminded him softly, trying to minimize the damage my words probably caused. My eyes flickered to his aura, which seemed to pulse even stronger than before. And was it me or was it inching closer towards me? What the fuck was wrong with Andy's aura? "She was your Amma. The woman who taught you how to sing, who helped you get accepted into Juilliard. It's natural to miss her, to grieve. Allow yourself to do that."

Andy did not seem to notice my flickering gaze, or even my unease. He just stared unseeingly at the hand I was holding firmly between my own. "Mom's a mess, so I've been trying to arrange things…"

That broke my heart for a second time. "You shouldn't have to do that on your own." I tugged slightly on his hand, forcing him to look me in the eye. "Neither of you should have to worry about that. Is there anything I can do to help? Just name it and I will."

A smile finally crossed his face, faint and watery, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief when the claws seemed to retreat just slightly. "I actually came to the shop to ask for your mom's help for the flower arrangements. Finding you here instead was a bit of surprise." He puffed out a sound that was just shy of a chuckle. "A shock, honestly."

I rubbed my palms over his hand. "Mom had a prior engagement this morning. Dad was supposed to open the shop and wait for the supplier but he got called away on an emergency." I shrugged with one shoulder. "It's just me until one of them manages to escape though I don't expect Mike to be done with work anytime soon. Vanessa on the other hand should be back just after noon." I gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm more than happy to help you in any way I can, but I understand completely if you want to wait for my mom. She keeps a book with all the arrangements. I can show you that, to give you a general idea, but you know I never quite got the hang of making bouquets myself."

I wished Stella was there with me. She and I had both helped Vanessa out over the weekend and while she was brand-new in the shop and on Earth, she had a true talent for flower arrangements. The bouquets she had created had sold like hot buns. If only she was there with me, she would have made an arrangement that Amma would have adored.

The curl of Andy's fingers around mine made me snap out of my thoughts. He shot me a tense smile. "That's alright, Bloom. I trust you. Besides, Vanessa can always give me or mom a call if she wants to change something or has an idea."

"Okay…" I pinched his hand softly. "I will go get that book, alright?" I only got a meek nod in return and I gave him another squeeze before letting go of his hand and moving to the front of the shop, to the counter where Vanessa kept her books. We didn't use them regularly anymore, not with the existence of Google, but it just so happened that Stella had devoured them just two days ago, soaking up their information like a sponge.

I rested my hands on the counter and took a deep breath in, slowly counting to fifty while trying to collect my thoughts and wits.

This was not how I had expected my day to go.

Originally Stella and I had planned to pop over to the Caribbean for a well-deserved day of blue skies, clear blue water and sunshine. Stella would get to work on her tan – as if! – and I would get to fulfil a lifelong dream: swim with sharks, stingrays and Nemo's. Unfortunately a storm was brewing in the Caribbean so we had postponed the trip.

We had then planned to spent the day lazing about and watching Netflix. We had even started the previous evening because Stella was in need of "a funny show with lots of dreamy guys". Romcoms were off-limits. They made her cry, though Fake Sky / Real Brandon had absolutely nothing to do with that and "you mention him one more time and I will curse your mouth shut, Bloom, without giving a fuck that curses are for witches!"

Yeah, Stella was handling the one-sided break-up wonderfully well. Poor Brandon had no idea their relationship was over, that Stella had blocked his number and I had even caught her jabbing needles into a stuffed toy with his picture on it. I decided not to mention that that gave me serious Voodoo vibes.

But that plan had also been scratched when Mike had been called away on an emergency and Vanessa had asked me to open the shop since she could not miss her "appointment". I had no idea what that "appointment" was but both she and Mike were practically buzzing with excitement whenever the thing was even briefly brushed upon.

I rubbed tiny circles on my temples, urging the rising headache to disappear. With all previous plans dismissed, I had decided I would spend the day at the shop and make the most of the quiet Monday by doing some research into Arthur and the Earth Fairies. Nothing exciting, but still productive. Never had I expected to bump into Andy. Honestly, that had been the last thing on my mind since my midterm break did not correspond with Earth's usual breaks and Andy was supposed to be in New York.

To learn on top of that that Amma had died…

"Oh, God." I stiffened when a sudden thought hit me square in the face. "Does he expect me to attend her funeral?"

I hated funerals, not that I had been to a lot of them. My parents had forced me to come with them to a handful of them, usually belonging to some "friend" in my mother's case or a colleague in my father's case. What I remembered were the fake smiles, tears, promises and hugs. The "if you need anything do not hesitate to ask" followed almost instantly "I'm shocked they didn't die earlier…"

My parents had been strict: I was to keep my mouth firmly closed unless it was to pass on my condolences. And I had always tried to do just that but the thing with funerals…

I had the bad habit to try and cheer people up when they were down or troubled, to reassure them everything would be alright. And a funeral was not exactly the right place to try and do just that. I always ended up saying the wrong thing, or smiling a little too cheerfully. It wasn't that I intended to be disrespectful, quite the opposite, but others did not seem to see it that way, least of all my parents.

I thanked the Dragon I had yet to attend a funeral in this universe.

I forced a deep breath out, straightening just slightly. One thing at a time. I would worry about the funeral and my possible attendance to it some other time. For now I needed to be strong, to keep it together. For Andy's sake.

I grabbed the book that specifically showed mourning bouquets and returned to the back, repeating the "one thing at a time" over and over in my head like a mantra. Andy was where I had left him, now holding an empty cup. His expression had not changed one bit but I let out a sigh of relief when I saw his aura had calmed down even more. While the tendrils were still very much present, they had lost their claw-like resemblance and the grey was clearing just slightly as well.

He lifted his head when I reappeared, his eyes flickering to the book in my hands before meeting my gaze and asking: "No Kiko?"

The question slightly threw me off balance. Where had that come from? Then I remembered that Kiko had basically been attached to my hip since I had gotten him, and that he had been my faithful companion whenever I helped Vanessa in the shop.

Not that weird a question. I just wasn't in the right state of mind.

I shook my head. "When I left this morning, he was still sleeping next to my friend Stella. She is currently crashing at my place. I didn't want to risk waking her, so—" I shrugged, placing the book on the tiny table near our chairs. "In hindsight I wish I had. You could have used one of his cuddles."

A ghost of a smile – this one a bit clearer than the previous ones – crossed Andy's face. "His hugs are pure magic."

"Yeah…" I sighed wishfully, sinking down on my seat and flicking the book open. "They really are…" And Andy wasn't the only one who could use his love right now.

"So you're back?"

I gazed up, flabbergasted. "Uh, yes? Just temporarily, though. Midterm break." I gave a half shrug and focussed on the book again. The first pages were solely made out of white flowers and Amma had hated white. She hadn't even gotten married in a white dress.

"A midterm break in January?"

"My exact reaction when I found out." I chuckled, not truly noticing how suspicious Andy sounded. "But hey, I didn't come up with it. I'm just happy to have a break before the second half of the year kicks off. The first half was brutal."

"I thought Europe mostly stuck to the same holidays as us."

I gazed up again, blinking. This whole conversation and the sudden switch in topic was making my already dazed head swirl. "Europe?"

"Yeah." Andy nodded, a deep frown edged between his brows. "When I was home for the holidays, I thought I would stop by your place, see how you were doing. But Vanessa told me you had been accepted to some fancy college in Europe, that you left in the summer and took Kiko with you." He tilted his head, eyeing me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "I thought you were taking a leap year."

I startled. For the first time since leaving Earth with Stella I considered the position I had put Mike and Vanessa in. Practically everyone in Gardena had known about my plan to take a leap year, that I hadn't applied to any colleges and even turned down a scholarship. Then overnight I had changed my mind and apparently been accepted to some fancy school God knew where. I hadn't even stuck around to say my goodbyes, but simply disappeared.

How many people had cornered my loving parents and asked them about it, had asked the same questions Andy was now asking me? How many eyebrows had been raised? It was a right miracle no one had truly considered it suspicious and filed me as a missing person.

I had never stopped and considered that, nor had I ever bothered to ask what Mike and Vanessa had told friends, colleagues and customers. The truth was certainly out of the question. But how and when had they come up with Europe?

"Yeah, I thought the same thing." I rubbed my neck with a nervous chuckle, my fingers then moving to the hallow of my throat and pick at the skin there. "But – uh – life has the tendency to throw you a bit of a curveball when you least expect it."

"But Europe?" Andy eyed me oddly, almost wearily. "What made you decide to cross oceans and travel basically to the other side of the world just for an education?" He cocked his head again. "You were never the adventurous type."

Andy knew me better than most people. He was the one I had confided in about my struggle with my identity and learning I was adopted by Mike and Vanessa, about not knowing who I truly was and not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. He also understood my need to stick close to my parents because they were my safety net. My leap year was mostly based on my desire to remain with them a little longer.

The drastic decision to just pack up everything one night and leave for another continent… It was completely out of character.

"I know." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Trust me, I know. I never considered—I just—I can't—" I gritted my teeth, stumbling over my words as I tried to come up with a plausible excuse. "If you are cornered, stick to half-truths," echoed Valtor, a lesson he repeated whenever he saw an opening. "Those are the easiest to remember and maintain without raising alarm."

I sighed again. "Moving to God knows where on a whim was the last thing I ever considered doing," I admitted, hesitantly and still not sure if my words would make him more suspicious or less. "And trust me, I have struggled with my decision from the moment I left. But it was the right one."

I couldn't keep the smile of my face when I remembered my last night at Alfea. The girls and I had stayed up all night, just talking and laughing, watching cheesy and funny movies, teasing one another, but mostly celebrating we had successfully finished the first half year of our journey to become proper Fairies. In that moment I hadn't been a lost princess / technical queen, or a fairy with knowledge and powers she shouldn't have, or even a girl from another universe. I had simply been Bloom: a young woman having fun with her best friends and enjoying life.

"I've learned so much the last months and met so many wonderful people." I chewed on my lip, trying to suppress my smile. "I can't explain it but it's almost as if I found…"

"Home." I looked up at him, surprised. My heart melted when he shot me a sad but adoring smile. "You finally found a place you belong. A home."

I smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I did."

He returned the gesture. "I'm glad. You deserve it." The next moment he chuckled and jabbed me playfully with his elbow. "That British accent of yours is catching on again. You should take it easy on the BBC."

It was one of the many things that had puzzled me in the early days of my life here. My posh London accent had literally disappeared, the one which had been a dead give-away that I had belonged to the Upper-Class and my parents had been filthy rich. My thoughts were still in that accent, but when I opened my mouth, I did not sound like me. When I watched a lot of British television the accent did simmer through and Andy loved to tease me endlessly about it. But this was the first time I heard anyone about my accent. I barely paid any attention to the way I pronounced words anymore and whether they were British-English or American-English, unlike when I had first woken up in this universe. I just talked.

I stuck out my tongue in response, my heart fluttering happily at this familiar teasing. "You're just jealous my British accent is flawless while yours is a bad impersonation of Crocodile Dundee."

Andy stuck out his tongue as well. "In my defence, Australia was once a colony of the British Empire and they pretty much sound the same."

"Oi!" I protested indignantly. "That's like saying you can't distinguish a New Orleanian from a New Yorker!"

Andy's lips curled further up. "Millions of New Orleanians and New Yorkers are now experiencing a cold shudder running up their spines and suddenly have the urge to march towards Gardena with pitch forks and torches. Well done, Bloom."

I gave him a tiny shove. "You started it." He laughed quietly and the nostalgia hit me hard again. "Don't you ever wish we were back in High School?"

The humour disappeared from Andy's face. "All the time," he admitted after a few long tense seconds filled with silence. "Don't get me wrong: I love Juilliard and New York is amazing but—"

"—being an adult is hard," I finished with a deep sigh, resting back in my seat. "There are so much responsibilities and things to consider. So many people who want something from you." My fingers reached to the hallow of my throat again. "Mike and Vanessa make it look so easy."

"Well, your parents aren't human. I mean, raising a troubled kid while opening a shop and being promoted to fire chief? Either they are aliens or superheroes." countered Andy, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly in amusement. I smiled. "And speaking of your parents…" He cocked his head curiously. "What's this I've heard about them adopting another kid?" I dissolved into laughter.

I loved Mike and Vanessa for a lot of reasons. Their patience could outmatch that of a saint's. Their love – no matter how tested – was endless, both for each other and for me. Humankind could learn a thing or two from their generosity and kindness, which was rivalled only by Flora's.

I was still trying to get them to write a book about parenting and when that book was published – when, not if because I was seeing to it that that book would come into existence – every single man and woman who considered getting children should be forced to read it. Damn it all to hell, they weren't just role models: they were the personification of parenthood.

Some days I wondered whether I would ever truly make the decision to become a parent, simply because I did not think I could ever be as good as they were. Then there was the tiny fact that I was terrified I would end up like my own parents and I—well, I could not live with myself if that happened.

But what I loved most about them was how alike Dory from Finding Nemo they were. Whenever they stumbled upon anything that resembled a lost child in need of a parental figure – whether this was for a handful of years or a mere few days did not matter – they just went: "I shall call him Squishy, and he shall be mine, and he shall be my Squishy."

Stella's adoption was official minus the actual paper work, and since neither King Radius or Queen Luna were aware they had put their daughter up for adoption, I highly doubted those would ever appear. Yet the good people of Gardena had not cared about any of that and had officially dubbed her as my sister.

Since Stella was basically my sister from another mother, I was perfectly fine with it.

After getting my laughter under control, I took the time to explain it to Andy which then turned into the story of how I had met Stella and how I had ended up being accepted to some foreign college hundreds of miles away from Gardena.

He listened quiet but with a tiny smile as I described gentle, nature-loving Flora; slight tomboy Musa whose entire world existed for music; the talking Wikipedia-like genius that was Tecna, and of course the walking-disaster with the impeccable taste of fashion that was my best-friend. I showed him a handful of the pictures on my phone, described the funniest moments of the year such as bumping into the Specialists in the swamp and having to save their skins, lamented on how Kiko had almost gotten me expelled with his midterm shenanigans.

When my throat dried up and I went to make a new pot of tea, Andy took over from me and shared his own stories. He had been miserable at first in his old crappy dorm, until he had befriended some of his fellow Julliard-students. A bunch of them were ranting a house together and had invited him over. Now his days were filled with music. Their kitchen was a mess and utterly empty because they tended to forget to eat. Like Musa, music was their life. They had had multiple visits from the cops due to their tendency to play their instruments well into the early hours of the morning. He had been chased out of buildings where he and his new friends had sneaked into because of the acoustics. How he had signed up for a trip to Europe during the summer break, where some of his professors would give them a tour of the most important cities in music history.

Before I knew it, we were trading stories about our new lives, laughing loudly at the trouble we'd both gotten ourselves into, and lamenting about the "good old days".

We were all but rolling over the ground, clutching at our stomachs, while recalling that one time something had blown up during Chemistry and Mitzi had been covered in slime and had screamed bloody murder, when out of nowhere a blur of grey and white shot towards us. It all but clawed its way up Andy's leg and then showered in him with love all while making the walls practically shake with its purrs.

"Kiko." Andy's face brightened and he pulled the kitten close to his chest. "I missed you, little buddy."

I was staring at two of the most important men in my life with a mixture of confusion and fondness. While I was delighted Kiko was here and cheering Andy up, he was supposed to be at home with…

"Bloom Peters!"

I cringed when a furious blonde appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips and dressed as flawlessly as always. Only Stella could make overalls two sizes too small for her with dirt and paint stains look like the newest fashion trend. How did she do it?

Her warm hazel eyes were spewing fire. "What in Arcadia's Good Graces do you think you're doing?!"

I waved shily at her. "Hi, Stel."

"Don't you "hi, Stel" me!" She narrowed her eyes at me. I flinched a little. "I wake up halfway through the morning to a silent house! There's no note, no text, no nothing! And why are you even working on your day off?! Honestly, you're worse than Flora and Musa!"

"I resent that," I argued, jabbing a pointed finger into her direction. "Flora is much worse because she is always working." Stella arched a perfect eyebrow at me, silently calling me a lying bitch. I sighed, deflating a little. "There was an emergency so Mike couldn't open the shop and I was already awak—"

"Did your phone abruptly die?" she interrupted, sharp as a blade.

I fidgeted. "Well, no—"

"And you have reception?" This time I flinched noticeably, grimacing. She fixed me with her meanest glare. "How fucking difficult is it to type "Stel, I'm at the shop. See you later" and press send? Honestly, Bloom. I just can't—" She threw her hands up with all the theaterics I had gotten used to and told Andy about moments earlier. "Unbelievable. It's like you get off on making me worry about you!"

Andy chuckled quietly beside me and I shot him an unimpressed look. He grinned in response, not hiding how much he enjoyed watching me get scold by the angry blonde, and I waved an absent hand at my best friend. "Andy, meet Stella."

Both visibly perked at the names. Andy – still petting and cuddling Kiko – eyed my newest friend with much curiosity while Stella's perfect eyebrows shot up. "Andy?" she repeated, a devious smile edging towards her lips. I groaned miserably. I was not going to like where this was going. "Ex-boyfriend Andy?"

Andy saluted. "The one and only." He nudged me teasingly. "Or do you have another ex with the name Andy?"

I glared, jabbing my elbow in his ribs. "You're the worst."

He winked. "You love me."

I rolled my eyes. "If only that wasn't true…"

Stella smirked, practically floating towards us and holding out her hand in greeting just as Mike had taught her. "Wonderful to meet you, Andy. You are simply adorable." Andy's cheeks flushed bright red and he practically tore his hand out of her grasp. I would have laughed if Stella hadn't turned to me with the sweetest smile. "Bloom, sweetie, you didn't tell me your ex was such a catch. I mean, I like this –" She gestured towards Andy. "– whole bad boy slash boy next door vibe."

"Stella." I pinched the bridge of my nose with an exasperated sigh. "Can you not? You will terrify him, or make him think you want to eat him."

Stella's smirk widened and I knew I was in a world of trouble. "Well, I can think of a few things I would allow him to eat."

The tips of Andy's ears burst out into a deep colour of red while my cheeks beat the current World Record of blushing. "Stella!"

She ignored me, leaning towards him and giving him a seductive wink. "And speaking of that, something like that ever happen between the two of you because my girl is rather upti—"

"Alright!" I jumped up and slapped a hand over Stella's mouth. "That's enough out of you! If you can't behave, you can go back to the house and entertain yourself."

"bhutahjhustgothere." I shot her a warning look and she rolled hers in response. "—fffiinnneee—"

I shot her another warning look before slowly lowering my hand. She feigned innocence, shooting me a bright smile in return. Andy broke the tension between us by chuckling softly. "I can see why the two of you just instantly clicked."

"Well, what can I say?" Stella shrugged with the sweetest smile. "She just couldn't resist my radiant personality."

I snorted fondly. "More like you didn't give me much choice."

Stella grinned. "That too." She practically fell into the chair I had previously occupied and crossed her legs with an elegancy that made Andy's eyes flicker down and appreciate them. "Don't be fooled by her grumpy façade. She loves me. Wouldn't know what to do without me." In that moment I would throw a party, something I was even surer about when she scooted closer. "I'm sure that as one of her childhood friends you can indulge me with stories about Bloom as a kid." She wiggled her eyes. "Embarrassing stories."

Andy laughed. "Oh, that I can. Do you want mildly exasperating or dying-of-shame?"

"Why do I fucking love you?" I groaned miserably, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "You two are the worst."

"Hush, darling." Stella swatted a hand into my general direction. "You do. Get over it. Now let us have a little fun at your expanse."

I crossed my arms. "Do I have a choice?"

Both Stella and Andy shot me bright smiles and answered: "Not really."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Fine. Make fun of me all you want. I will be in the back, counting stock or something."

Stella pouted. "You're no fun. Embarrassing stories won't be quite as funny if you're not around to blush and complain that that is not how things went."

"You want embarrassing stories?" I goaded, arching an eyebrow at her. She shrugs innocently. "Then deal with getting them while I am not around." She stuck her tongue out at me and I gladly mimicked it. Andy tried to cover his laugh with a fake cough. I narrowed my eyes and he coughed again, his lips twitching. "Two can play this game…" I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, smiling innocently. "Now you two kids behave. There's some boiled water in the kettle should you want something to drink. The teabags are right. Don't use the left bags, those are for feeding the plants. And keep the door open at all time. I want no funny business."

I should have known better.

Stella shot me a saccharine smile. "Just because you were too prudish to feel him up—"

"Ahh!" I slapped my hands over my ears. "Nope! Not listening!"

"You're supposed to be a hormonal teenager," Stella all but yelled to assure I heard her, a devious glint in her eyes. "Where are those raging hormones, the obsession with sex, the curiosity to experiment?"

When the glint in turned right evil, I froze, staring horrified at her. "Stella, don't you dare—!"

"Or is that solely reserved for your professor?" I let out a frustrated scream, turning on my heel and marching off while chanting "nope, nope, not going there, absolutely fucking not". Stella's laughter trailed after me and just before I locked myself into the dark, moist and somewhat cold storage, I heard her explain to Andy: "—she has a professor kink—"

"STELLA!" Her bell-like laughter along with Andy's low chuckles reached me despite the layers separating us. I gritted my teeth before deliberately moving to the radio, switching it on and cracking up the volume.

The last thing I wanted was to hear Stella tell my ex-boyfriend how I was now crushing on an older man, a teacher nonetheless. She had recently – after a long night of picking my brain about him – dubbed him "the professor" which she occasionally spiced up by using "professor McHottie". I regretted allowing Mike and Vanessa to introduce her to McDonalds. I could do without the "McSomething" jokes. She and Mike tended to team up on me and would drive me to an early grave.

I feared what our upcoming trip to Ikea would trigger.

That did remind me—

I opened the door again and popped my head around. Both Stella and Andy instantly turned to me, their smiles still wide and happy. "Since you seem to be bounding so thoroughly with Andy over the most embarrassing things I have ever lived through—you might as well invite him along to Ikea. When it comes to Ikea there is no such thing as too much help."

That temporarily distracted them and I smiled satisfied, popping my head back. Andy was now explaining to her in great detail the origins of Ikea and why it was simply one of the best things mankind had ever created.

With Stella's adoption all but finalized, Mike and Vanessa wanted to make sure she felt at home with them and that meant allowing her to design her own room, which in return meant shopping for furniture. Ikea was simply perfect for that, not to mention affordable though Stella would most likely insist on paying for everything herself. I still wasn't entirely sure how her credit card managed to work on Earth but it did.

Hey, if there was one thing I had learned it was that the rules of magic rarely made sense.

We hadn't scheduled a date yet for our Ikea trip, but I suspected it would be somewhere this week. Our guest bedrooms were modest and functional, but not homely or truly meant to be used for longer period of times. Stella had already complained twice about the mattress lacking the softness she was used to. I knew her well enough to realise she would not allow her beauty sleep to be disturbed much longer. I tended to agree: a sleep deprived Stella was one of my least favourite Stella's. And even if her comfort wasn't in jeopardy, I couldn't allow her to return to the Magic Dimension without having at least introduced her to the wonderful world of Swedish meatballs, Billy and Kallax, now could I?

I grabbed the inventory map and a pen, tapping the end of the latter against my lips as my thoughts drifted back to Stella's room and what we could do with it. Once she had chosen her furniture, we could settle on a theme and work with that when it came to decorations. I imagined the walls in a soft mint green, except for the longest. That one was perfectly suited to bear a wallpaper.

My mental room decoration was interrupted when someone knocked loudly on the backdoor, not an hour after I had left Stella and Andy alone. I jabbed the pen in my bun and discarded the map carelessly before throwing the shutter open. Miguel – the runner from Bonner & Brown, Vanessa's usual suppliers – was patiently waiting with a dozen Danish carts. His face broke out into a wide grin when he saw me and he let out his usual greeting of "Bloom, chiquita!"

I laughed when he drew me into a tight hug, petting his back affectionally. "Buenos días, Miguel."

"Where've you been at, chiquita? I liking the hair."

"Thanks." I twirled a lock around my finger and gave him a bright smile. "I'm sure you heard I got accepted to this fancy college—"

He had and he wanted to know all about it. He didn't even ask where Vanessa was. I got the feeling he knew more about that than I did. When I asked, he just winked and evaded the question by asking another one of my studies and when he could expect me back in Gardena again.

We were rolling the carts inside and the empty ones back outside when the door opened and Stella peaked around. "Bloom, sweetie, your mom is back and she brought company."

I paused and could indeed hear Vanessa's voice from inside. She was talking to someone, describing her shop. "—okay—" I frowned, confused. I still had no idea who Vanessa had had a meeting with, something I was quite peeved with. The meeting must have ended, but why had she brought them here to her shop? I knew for a fact she had no intentions of selling the shop or expanding it. "Let her know I will finish here and then—"

"How quaint." I froze at the new voice, heavily accented and posh enough that the London Upper-Class priviliges dripped from each and every single word. "How perfectly quaint."

The world seemed to fade around me, those five little words wrapping around my neck like a noose. My skin was on fire, yet a chill settled in my bones that was worse than the time I had visited Domino.

I quivered, cowered, my fingers clutching whatever was nearby in a death-grip. This was not happening. It could NOT be happening. I had to be dreaming, another one of those hellish nightmares my twisted mind came up with. Any moment now Valtor would show up with that exasperated look on his face and demand to know what had gotten my panties in a twi—

"An upgrade is well due, but you could have done worse, pet—"

Pet… The word rang through my head like a sledgehammer.

"Go to your room, pet. We'll discuss your behaviour later."

"You want to wear that, pet? Oh, I don't think so."

"I do not want a word from you, pet. You're to be exactly as a woman should be: quiet and beautiful."

"I expected better from you, pet."

"I do not have time to deal with your pathetic life, pet. Go be a bother somewhere else."

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't move.

I wanted to run and hide.

I had to. I needed it more than I needed oxygen.

She would find me.

She would be furious.

I hadn't been keeping to my diet or the strict training schedule.

And what was I wearing? She couldn't see me like this…

I had to…

I had to…

I was moving. Why was I moving? I shouldn't be moving. Least of all towards her.

My numb hands pushed against the door, the fingers shaking. It swung open and my gaze despite foggy and unfocussed, zeroed in.

And there she was. In the middle of the store. Not a hair out of place. Dressed in her signature black Dior dress, her copper hair curled up in an eccentric bun, her lips as red as blood. Exactly as I remembered.

The words she had spoken so many years ago proved themselves to be true.

"You will never be able to escape me, pet."

My mother.

Alright, who saw that coming?!

I did but since I write this thing... Not surprising.

Let me know what you thought of the chapter and your theories! I'm always eager to hear your theories! And of course if you've noticed any errors, please let me know as well. It helps and improves my writing like a whole lot.

Hopefully till soon.