The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Lyja stepped into the quiet church where Davina often worked her magic. The familiar smell of sage and candle wax greeted her as she walked down the stone aisle toward the small altar Davina had set up. Her sister was already there, crouched over a worn grimoire, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're up early," Lyja said, her voice breaking the silence.

Davina glanced up, her face lighting up when she saw her sister. "And you're on time. A miracle."

Lyja smirked, setting her bag down on one of the pews. "What's the emergency?"

"No emergency," Davina said, standing and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "I just need help with something. There's been… activity in the Quarter. Something's stirring, and I want to make sure the wards I set up around the church are holding."

Lyja raised an eyebrow. "What kind of activity?"

"Dark magic," Davina said simply, her tone serious. "It's faint, but it's there. I don't want to take any chances."

Lyja nodded, rolling up her sleeves. "Okay, tell me what to do."

For the next hour, the sisters worked together, reinforcing the protective wards around the church. Lyja followed Davina's instructions, mixing herbs and etching runes onto small talismans. She wasn't as experienced as Davina, but she could hold her own when it came to basic spells.

As they worked, Davina glanced at her sister. "You've gotten better at this."

Lyja shrugged, tying a piece of twine around a bundle of sage. "I've had a good teacher."

Davina smiled, but her expression quickly turned serious. "You know, Lyja, the more involved you get in this city's magic, the harder it is to stay out of its politics."

Lyja paused, looking at her sister. "Are you saying I should back off?"

"No," Davina said quickly. "I just… want you to be careful. Magic here is powerful, but it's dangerous. People will try to use you if they think they can."

Lyja sighed, placing the finished talisman on the altar. "Don't worry, Dav. I know how to handle myself."

Davina hesitated, then nodded. "I know you do. But you don't have to do it alone."

Lyja gave her sister a small smile. "I know."

By the time the wards were finished, the sun was high in the sky, and Lyja was running late for her shift at Rousseau's. She hurried home to change, then made her way to the bar, arriving just as the lunch crowd was picking up.

Cami greeted her with a knowing smile as she stepped behind the counter. "Late morning witchcraft?"

"You could say that," Lyja replied, tying on her apron. "What's the damage?"

"Busy but manageable," Cami said, handing her a notepad. "You've got table six. Good luck—they're picky."

Lyja groaned but grabbed the notepad and headed toward the table. The rest of her shift passed in a blur of drink orders, clinking glasses, and the steady hum of conversation. Working at Rousseau's had become oddly comforting—a slice of normalcy in a city that was anything but.

As the evening crowd began to roll in, Lyja found herself back behind the bar, pouring drinks alongside Cami. The two worked in sync, their movements quick and efficient as they kept up with the growing demand.

"You seem distracted," Cami said during a rare lull, glancing at Lyja.

Lyja hesitated, then shrugged. "Just a lot on my mind. Davina's been dealing with some magical… complications."

Cami nodded knowingly. "The Quarter never stays quiet for long."

"No kidding," Lyja muttered, wiping down the counter. "But it's not just that. I feel like I'm constantly walking a tightrope between magic, work, and… everything else."

Cami gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's a lot, but you're handling it. And if you ever need to talk—or just escape for a while—you know where to find me."

Lyja smiled, grateful for the offer. "Thanks, Cami. I'll keep that in mind."

By the end of her shift, Lyja was exhausted but oddly satisfied. The day had been long, but it felt good to be busy, to be contributing in her own way. As she locked up Rousseau's with Cami, she found herself looking forward to whatever the next day would bring—even if it meant more chaos.

After all, this was New Orleans. And chaos was part of the charm.