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CLAP CLAP CLAP

The group looked around at the sudden noise, fearing some kind of attack. However, what they found was more disarming: Sitting on a nearby rock was Sahji, clapping in celebration. “Good work retrieving the Blaze Lyre.” He smiled, hopping down from the rock.

“Sahji you useless fuck! What the fuck happened to that “I’m not a native entity of this world” bullshit you were spouting!?” Shouri barked, hobbling over with Blakki by sheer force of anger alone.

“I haven’t lied to you Shouri. I can explain once we’re back in the shop.”

The group remained silent, all slightly glaring at the sage. Shouri motioned angrily to the group who was in no physical condition to be doing any mountain climbing. “Ah of course. You've always had the power to go back to California.”

Everyone glared at him. “It’s true! You just had to learn it for yourselves!” He told the group.

The glares sharpened. “Alright everyone! Close your eyes, and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself "There's no place like home; there's no place like home; there's no place like home.””

Silence

“Gimmie your fucking sword Sahji; I got a wish I need granted.” Shouri growled, cracking his knuckles.

The sage lit up, drawing the sword from his robes oblivious to the malice being directed his way. “Yes, yes, of course! What is your wish today?” He smiled, ready to present the End of Desire to the maestro.

“I’m gonna wish for your death.”

Maintaining his smile, Sahji put the sword back in his robes. “Well, I do say, time is of the essence, so let’s get you lot home.”

When  he was well and disgusted by the inebriated antics of his peers,  he glanced to the far edges of the hall, where the servants were  rushing  back and forth between the kitchens and the dining area, ensuring that  plates and cups were never empty. As he watched a woman  leaving the  kitchen with a platter of marmalade tarts, his eyes settled  on the  person she was talking to--a person he was not expecting be  present at  this event.

He was glad to see her, but the sight put him on edge.

You’d best keep that to yourself…

He heard Qevon’s cold, stern tone prickling at the back of his skull.   Words the physician didn’t dare speak directly, but the sentiment was implied, moreso than ever, during their appointments. Hec watched Lyse part from the servant carrying the tarts, her long, dark hair catching the torchlight.

She almost exited the dining hall into the south wing, but then turned her head in his direction, recognizing him almost immediately. She raised a hand at him. He hesitated for a full moment, then raised his right hand in acknowledgment. She began making her way towards him past a group of drunk attendees, tucking her hair behind her ear as she avoided them.

…she’s mine…she’s all I have…

Hec raised the goblet to his lips, finishing off the apple wine. He needed to be calm, to think about things a little less. She was his best friend, and whatever Qevon had to say would never change that. The inconvenient reality of the situation, however, was that she was gradually becoming more than a friend to Hec. He had no idea why it was happening all these years later. Why three decades had to pass before she was the one he wanted.

[...omitted for rating...]

Hec was deeply troubled by this level of obsession that he had never had for anyone else. He worried about it for weeks before his stepbrother cleared it up that he was in love, and not losing his gods-damned mind.

This was what it was like to fall in love? This was the bittersweet agony he had read about time and again in literature, but had brushed off as melodramatic drivel?

[...omitted for triggering themes...]

It was an epiphany he wasn’t sure was to his benefit, especially since the subject of his affections was already romantically involved with his personal physician. He did not need this additional drama in his life!