“—and easily she adored every blossom not in the serious careful way that we choose this blossom or that blossom the way we praise or don't praise - the way we love or don't love - but the way we long to be - that happy in the heaven of earth - that wild, that loving.”

-Mary Oliver, Luke.

​

 

The week begins slowly—and then picks up at an alarmingly exciting pace as soon as Chloe heads to the lounge to look for Rustica, who promised to have tea with him.

 

The lounge is currently occupied, and Chloe doesn’t want to disrupt what is quite the unlikely scene: Mithra, pouring Bradley a cup of a shiny black liquid entirely too dark to be tea, and Bradley, eagerly sipping it and going so far as to give Mithra thumbs up.

 

“Hello, Chloe,” Mithra says, after a sip of his own, “Do come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

 

“W-waiting? For me?” Chloe asks, wondering how (or indeed, why) this had come to pass.

 

“Yeah,” Bradley says, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers: a sparkling blue teacup and grass-green saucer. “Didn’tcha say you’d join us at our next tea party?”

 

Chloe’s eyes widen, “Of course! Um, I’d love to! Are you celebrating something?”

 

“Yeah, we’re celebrating how I basically wiped the floor with those beasts we saw on the foothills of the mountain in the North.” Bradley smirks and gulps from his cup.

 

“Absolutely not,” Mithra says, slurping his drink, “We’re celebrating how I brought down the mountain to trap the beasts.”

 

“You’re full of shit as always, aren’tcha,” Bradley grumbles and picks up the teapot, “You’re gonna love this tea, kid. It’ll wake ya right up. Used to live on this shit while I was stuck on that damn island trying to escape. I was stuck for days, too.”

 

Chloe leans forward in his chair, intrigued, “But you were okay, right? How did you escape?”

 

Bradley clears his throat, clearly pleased at being the centre of attention, “Sneezed myself into a storm, and before I knew it I was stranded on this deserted island. Guess this guy—” he jerks a thumb at Mithra—”could probably just open up a door back here. Took me a couple of days to figure out you can only enter or leave by storm. Idiotic concept but strong magic. The locals said it used to be a research base or somethin’ and they were experimenting on stuff they didn’t want civilians to find out about.”

 

“Bradley, you do bring shame if it took you days to leave the island,” Mithra comments, offering Chloe a plate of blackened little circles, “I have tea snacks, please help yourself.” 

 

“Thank you,” Chloe says, taking one. It crumbles to ash in his hands. He decides not to comment on that. “Rustica and I were caught in a storm and thrown to a deserted island too! I wonder if it was the same one. We managed to escape but it was so harrowing! Looking back on it… it must have been quite the adventure, right?”

 

“Course, that teacher of yours is nothing to sneeze at but yeah, nothing’s impossible for Bradley the Brave. I found these leaves to snack on while waitin’ for a storm and brought back a bunch, I dunno, maybe they’re worth their weight in gold.”

 

“So you made tea blend with it,” Chloe says, impressed, “That’s really cool! Could I have some to share with Master Sage later?”

 

“In return you’ll hafta make me a dashing outfit—something that exudes power and wealth. Something that’s worthy of the Great Emperor of the Night, got it?”

 

“Yes! I’ll do my best to think of something perfect for you!” Chloe says, sipping from his cup. The liquid is thick and off-coloured, and entirely unappetizing but it tastes like clove and honey and what he thinks freshly bloomed flowers might be like.

 

“You’ll make me something too, right?” Mithra asks, “We’re at this tea party together, after all. I think if I had a powerful looking outfit, I might be able to sleep better.”

 

“Oh…” Chloe pauses for a moment, overcome by joyous responsibility, “I could do that! Maybe if the material was soft and light, it could help? And it could have lots of pockets to keep herbs and medicine to help you sleep, too! Consider it done!”

 

Mithra nods and continues munching his charcoal cookies, as though pleased with his bargain. 

 

“Here, you can have this bag. It’s priceless so consider it heavily discounted, got that?”

 

Chloe nods, clutching the bag close to his chest. A special adventure blend, full of flavour and mystery that he hopes to share later.

​

 

“Master Sage? M—Oh hello, you two! Are you busy?” Chloe pops his head into the study, and is faced with a flustered Heathcliff, trying his best to keep a pleasant face and stay as still as he can, while Rutile looks on intensely.

 

“Hi Chloe! You’ve come at exactly the right time! I’m painting a portrait of Heath! Wanna take a look?”

 

The portrait, though unfinished, looks nothing like Heathcliff. Very bright blues and pale purples meld into each other, yet somehow not muddying on the paper. Vague, person-like features appear to Chloe when he squints.

 

“It’s not done yet, of course, but I think it’s going to look very cute once I’m done. I’ve a fantastic model!”

 

“Um, that’s not true at all, Rutile,” Heathcliff protests, “I respect how much you love art and I’m really grateful you tried to help me.” He turns to Chloe and says, “My parents have commissioned a family portrait and I was worried about sitting still for so long and being stared at. Rutile said he’d be willing to stage a mock portrait session to get used to it for the occasion.”

 

Chloe nods. “Rutile has such a way with his art! I bet he kept you engaged, even though you couldn’t talk back. How long have you guys been busy?”

 

“Hmm, let’s see, about an hour?” Rutile says, stretching with his hands raised high, “Maybe it’s time for a break. Chloe, do you want to have tea with us? It’s lovely weather outside, we could have a picnic!” He grabs Chloe around the waist and twirls him around.

 

“I’d love to! I got some special tea leaves, so let’s make that, okay?” Chloe laughs, reaching for Heathcliff’s hand and pulling him into their silliness. They dance around the room with each other, smothering giggles with even more breathless laughter. If only he could go back in time, Chloe thinks, and tell his past self he’d get to have tea with friends he’s made—who are good and kind in their own capacity, with all their oddities—whenever he likes and dance around with them in the midafternoon, without rhyme or reason, bursting at the seams with love and happiness. 

 

Heathcliff excuses himself to the kitchen to ask for leftovers they can snack on while he and Rutile rummage around in Chloe’s drawers to look for a blanket he’d mended with scrap fabric only a little while ago.

 

The blanket is old, far too small for Chloe to use now but it had been Rustica’s first gift to him, back when he’d run away from home and never wanted more than to stop looking back. Chloe had held on to it, patching it up whenever it needed repairs, and when he grew too big for it, it kept him company as an old friend would.

 

“Aha! Is this it?” Rutiles says, holding up a swathe of faded pink, old and soft. The blanket had seen so much of the outside because he and Rustica would spend many days in a row traveling and, well, the stars always shone best without a roof obstructing their view.

 

Chloe nods and Heathcliff comes up to them, letting them know they were in luck; Nero had been busy baking a batch of pies that afternoon and had decided he wanted feedback on them.

 

They head out to the garden, picking up plates and the pies and cutlery.

“Let’s sit by the flowers,” Rutile suggests, “I watered them this morning and they’re all in full bloom.”

 

“You really have a way with the garden, even Shino said so,” Heathcliff says and Chloe agrees. There are very few gardens he’s seen with flowers more vibrant.

 

“Thank you,” Rutile says, “This was all Mitile’s idea, though. He wanted to show Riquet and Master Sage the suntillas that grew in the Southern Country and I think… part of him misses being back with his friends so it’s nice to have a little piece of home.”

 

A piece of home… Chloe had never held his memories of home like a keepsake to remind him of his time there. In fact, he’d done his best to actively avoid talking or thinking about it. His memories of home were of strangers, out in the Western countryside and by the seashores, people who didn’t fear wizards or think of them as nuisances, and saw them for themselves and not their magic. They were much like Heath and Rutile, and Master Sage and the rest of the wizards he lives with who had once been strangers too, gathering together as the night falls and welcoming Chloe and Rustica to make merry with them. He’d always wanted to share that feeling with his new friends.

 

“Chloe?” Rutile says, clasping Chloe’s hand in his own, “You look dazed. Is everything alright?”

 

“It’s fine, I was just thinking… Maybe we could add to this garden? We could grow all kinds of flowers from all kinds of places!” Chloe

 

“That’s lovely,” Heathcliff says with a small smile, “Central Country has beautiful flowers but I would love to see clearblossoms and sweetroots here. Though I wonder if they’ll grow here if the soil and climate is different?”

 

“That shouldn’t be a problem for a young wizard like yourself!” A voice rings out from seemingly nowhere.

 

“Hello?” Chloe calls out hesitantly.

 

“Up here, Chloe!” And almost instantly, Chloe is gently pulled into the sky along with Rutile and Heathcliff and their precious picnic basket.

 

“Hello everyone,” another voice says, “Thank you for joining us in the sky.” Riquet looks excited and his eyes shine like undiscovered gems waiting to be found.

 

“Hello Riquet,” Rutile says, floating closer to him. “Why are you up in the sky?”

 

“Murr said he would show me new magic while I was out admiring the flowers,” Riquet explains seriously, “And then he said we could eat pie.”

 

Chloe looks at Murr. Murr looks back at them. “How did you know we were going to have a picnic here today?”

 

“I could smell the pies Nero made today,” Murr laughs, “I figured someone would come out to enjoy their slice! And it happened to be you! Were you surprised?”

 

“Hehe, I suppose you’re right! Will you show us the magic you were teaching Riquet?”

 

“Sure! Watch Riquet.”

 

Riquet holds a single dried petal in his hand and takes a deep breath. 

 

“Sunrotea Edif!”

 

As soon as the words ring true, Riquet’s spell takes hold and the petal glows like and ember, floating a couple of centimetres. It burns brighter and brighter, red to orange to yellow and then a dazzling white, and that seems to be the end for a second but then they scatter beautifully in a shower of golden sparks that take the shape of the suntillas down in the garden below.

 

“Oh!” Rutile says clapping excitedly, “That was beautiful! I want to learn too!”

 

“I’d love to learn that!” Heathcliff says, reaching out to touch the lingering sparkles that turn white and blue and disappear in the breeze.

 

“Me too!” Chloe says, swooping down to look for petals that have dropped to the ground and returns with a fistful.

 

“Alright,” Murr says, doing a handstand in the sky, “You have to put your heart in it and think of a good memory.”

 

Following Murr’s instructions, the four of them manage to produce little sparks in various colours, and fleeting flowers stemming from the tiny petals.

 

“I wonder if we can make these bigger,” Chloe muses when they take a break to enjoy their tea and pie. “I wish we could show Master Sage and everyone else.”

 

“May we?” Riquet’s eyes go wide, “I want to show Oz and Prince Arthur and Cain! They’ve been so busy they haven’t had the time to come look at the garden with me yet.”

 

“I have an idea,” Chloe winks and gathers everyone close.

​

 

“Hello and welcome!” Rutile says, spinning Murr around in the sky later that evening.

 

“Welcome and hello!” Murr says, twirling Rutile.

 

Most wizards at the manor crowd together outside in the still and clear evening, watching the five in the sky.

 

“Go on,” Heathcliff prompts softly, with an encouraging hand on Chloe’s wrist.

 

“Hi everyone!” Chloe says, “We wanted to show off something we learnt today! Please watch and enjoy!”

 

And at Chloe’s signal, the garden flowers hum, enchanted just before everyone gathered, and Chloe, Heathcliff, Rutile, Riquet, and Murr dance in a circle and spread out, each holding a fistful of petals. They dance, graceful and delighted—though it had taken the better part of an hour for Rutile and Chloe to convince Heathcliff to join them.

 

They drift away from each other and begin casting their spells, and large globes of light spring out and float lazily in the air, like giant bubbles reflecting the eerie twilight moon. The lights coalesce into sparkles and outline different flowers in the sky. The crowd below claps in appreciation and Shylock and Rustica turn the claps into music, adding to the pleasant, floral hum.

 

The flower shapes dissolve and sparkles in all the shades imaginable disperse and shammer in the darkening sky and ever so slowly merge into another shape: the sigil of the Sage. The mark that unites them, as indelible as the camaraderie Chloe has come to cherish.

 

“Oh!” Master Sage says, clapping along with everyone else, and Chloe could swear they almost had a tear in their eyes.

 

The five finish their dance and the crowd applauds when they land, showering them with praise as the Sage’s flower glows in the sky above. Nero passes around teacups and Shylock helps by pouring from a dainty teapot, full of a dark and viscous liquid brewed from the leaves Chloe had given to Nero earlier.

 

“Huh, this ain’t half bad, pipsqueak,” Bradley laughs, patting Riquet’s head much to his chagrin. “And you!” he points at Chloe with his teacup, “I thought you wanted to drink this tea with the Sage?”

 

“I did. But after our tea party I realised even though I enjoyed it so much, it’s because you two decided to share it with me in the first place! So I decided to hold a big tea party!”

 

Bradley looks taken aback by Chloe’s enthusiasm but he recovers quickly enough and laughs goodnaturedly. “That’s a Western wizard for you! Good for you.”

 

Chloe laughs with him, excited and content that his idea had taken off so with great success. He clutches his teacup and looks around.

 

“Rustica!” Chloe laughs, finally spotting the person he wants to see most in the moment, serenely telling Master Sage about something or the other.  “Rustica!” he calls again and leaps at him.

 

Rustica is not particularly strong, nor given to paying attention to his surroundings but he does catch Chloe in his arms in the nick of time and manages to stay upright without spilling his own tea. Rustica holds him warm and close for a second or two before letting him go. He’d been just a little worried when he didn’t see Rustica around the manor, knowing all the same that no harm could befall them here, that people wanted them around and loved them.

 

But having him here, Chloe thinks, pulling Rustica along with him into the golden sky, is good. The sun rises every day and Rustica, who may not rise with it, is just as present with him.

 

And, Chloe thinks with satisfaction, they weren’t alone anymore and had no reason not to live out their days in joy, alloyed with a little more love for the world.