The moment Cecilia and Emma stepped inside the shop, the outside world seemed to fall away. Warmth wrapped around them first, followed by the distinct scent of hearth–wood smoke, ash, and something faintly resinous that clung to the air like an old memory. Shelves crowded the narrow space from floor to ceiling, overflowing with jars, scrolls, and objects whose purposes weren't immediately clear. The floor creaked beneath their steps, and the walls felt close, as if the shop itself were listening.
Lily's hand suddenly slid into the blonde woman's palm. It was cold–unnaturally so, almost reptilian–and Cecilia blinked as the child's eyes narrowed briefly, sharp and snake-like.
"Come on," the girl said, excitement lacing her voice as she tugged the guest forward, leading them past the shopfront into a quiet living space tucked deeper inside.
The shift was jarring. Bookshelves lined the walls, and small potted plants hung from a wooden rack, their vines trailing down to brush the floor. A worn sofa near a low table and the faint glow of the hearth warmed the room. For a moment, everything felt normal.
However, in the far left corner, a woman who looked no older than her mid-twenties slowly rose to her feet. Her hair was a fiery shade of auburn orange, catching the glow of the hearth and turning it copper beneath the dancing lights. Though young in appearance, there was something ancient about her eyes. They held the quiet weight of countless years, making her seem far older than the face she wore.
The moment Brian saw her, his posture stiffened. His fist clenched until his knuckles blanched white. He stared at the woman, his chest rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths. "You knew," he said at last.
Margaret's shoulder sagged slightly. A quiet sigh escaped her before she glanced toward the fire crackling in the hearth. "Brian..."
"There was a hole in my chest."
The room fell silent.
The memory returned immediately. Cecilia remembered the gruesome scene: the way the vampire had been pinned by the Chimera's hold and the sickening image of the wound in his chest. The thought made her stomach churn. Had Emma not been there, things could have ended very differently.
"I know," the shopkeeper said softly.
Brian laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. "Of course you know. You always know." He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "I was sitting with you less than an hour before it happened. We had tea. We talked. Then I walked out your door and nearly died."
Margaret rubbed her temple as if nursing a headache. "You make it sound as though I pushed the Chimera toward you myself."
"You could at least warn me."
A faint smile touched the woman's lips, though it carried little amusement. "And what would you have done if I had?"
He opened his mouth, then paused. The hesitation surprised the blonde woman. Until now, Brian had answered every accusation thrown at the shopkeeper. Yet for some reason, this question seemed to give him pause.
"Exactly," Margaret said.
The vampire pointed accusingly at her. "Don't."
"Switzerland."
His expression darkened. "Margaret."
"Switzerland," she repeated.
Cecilia blinked. "What happened in Switzerland?"
"Nothing happened in Switzerland," Brian replied.
Margaret smiled triumphantly. "Exactly."
"That isn't the defense you think it is."
"It absolutely is." She folded her arms. "I specifically told you not to go because dragon breeding season had ended and the mothers would be guarding their eggs."
Cecilia stared. Dragons. Actual, living dragons. At this point, she felt as though she should have accepted that nothing about this world made sense anymore. However, for some reason, that was the one thing her mind refused to accept.
"And I listened," Brian argued.
"You did."
"I stayed away."
"I completely avoided Switzerland."
Margaret nodded. "A remarkable display of self-control."
"Thank you."
"Then three months later a dragon stepped on you."
Cecilia nearly choked, while Emma, amidst all this chaos, remained unfazed and silent.
Brian looked personally offended by the memory. "It nearly crushed my heart."
"Nearly."
"By an inch."
Margaret shrugged. "An inch is still a miss."
Watching them, Cecilia slowly began to understand. This wasn't really an argument about the Chimera. It wasn't even about Switzerland. It was a debate they had probably been having for years. Every warning the redhead gave seemed to lead the vampire toward some other disaster, while every disaster he survived only convinced him she should have warned him sooner.
The amusement gradually faded from Margaret's expression. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "Some futures don't change, Brian." The room grew quiet. He didn't answer. "If I had warned you about the Chimera, you would have gone anyway." The silence that followed was answer enough. She smiled sadly. "That's what I thought."
Brian released a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. The anger seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving only reluctant acceptance behind. "I hate it when you're right."
Margaret's laughter was soft and warm, filling the cottage like the gentle crackle of the fire. "I know." She smiled. "Oh, and one more thing."
The vampire narrowed his eyes. "...What is it this time?"
Margaret tilted her head ever so slightly. "Your very pregnant wife is about to give birth."
Brian froze. "In about—"
He vanished.
One moment he was standing in the middle of the room. The next... nothing. Not a sound. Not a trace. The sound of the door didn't even reach their ears before he was gone. Cecilia blinked. "...Did he just leave before she finished the sentence?"
Margaret let out an amused sigh. "He always does." Only then did her gaze drift toward the two women standing quietly by the doorway. For a brief moment, her eyes lingered on the crimson thread binding their ring fingers together. Something unreadable flickered across her face before she smiled. "I imagine you both have many questions."
She lifted a hand, and without a sound, two cushioned armchairs glided across the wooden floor before stopping in front of the fireplace. "Please. Sit."
The blonde woman hesitated for only a moment before lowering herself into one of the chairs. The assassin remained standing. "And why," Emma asked quietly, her eyes never leaving the redhead, "should we listen to you?"
Margaret met her gaze without the slightest hint of offense. "You don't have to." Her voice was calm. "But if you want answers... I'm afraid I'm the only one who can give them."
"Ember." The fire brightened. Tiny golden lights drifted free from the flames, floating into the room like glowing embers carried on a gentle breeze. Cecilia's eyes widened. They weren't simply lights. They were alive. They circled Margaret lazily, twinkling like miniature stars. Among them, one shone brighter than all the others. It zipped happily toward Margaret before stopping in front of her face, bouncing excitedly as though it had been waiting for its name to be called.
Margaret laughed softly. "There you are." The little spirit spun in a delighted circle. "I have a favor to ask." It bounced even higher. Margaret nodded toward Cecilia. "Would you help our guests feel a little more comfortable?"
The bright little spirit practically leapt with excitement. It chipped cheerfully before flying straight toward Cecilia. The remaining lights immediately followed behind it. Like a tiny flock following their leader. Cecilia watched in amazement as the little spirit circled her once, then twice, The others copied its movements. Golden light shimmered around her, spiralling gently from her feet to the top of her head. The warmth was comforting. Weightless, She instinctively closed her eyes. Somewhat feeling a sense of security from them. A few moments later, the glow slowly faded. Cecilia looked down. The oversized coat had disappeared. In its place was a simple casual dress, paired with a light cardigan and comfortable shoes. She smoothed the fabric over her lap before letting out a long sigh of relief.
"...This feels so much better." Cecilia looked up at Margaret with a grateful smile. She could now move more properly and with ease. "Thank you."
The bright little spirit bounded proudly before returning to Margaret, the other lights happily trailing behind it.
Margaret's gaze softened as it drifted toward the little girl who had remained quietly by the fireplace all this while. "Lily."
The little girl looked up. Long silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering beneath the firelight. Emerald scales glistened along her forearms, while her reptilian green eyes blinked curiously at Emma and Cecilia. Throughout the conversation, she had simply hugged her stuffed rabbit, quietly observing the adults.
Margaret smiled. "Come here."
Lily walked over without a word, stopping beside her mother. "I don' t think we've properly introduced ourselves."
Lily nodded politely. "I'm Lily." She gave Cecilia a small smile. "We met earlier."
"We did," Cecilia replied with a warm smile.
Lily lifted the stuffed rabbit in her arms. "This is Clover.'
Cecilia smiled. "It's nice to meet both of you."
Lily beamed before glancing up at the witch. "My mom is Margaret." Then her expression softened slightly. "And... my mama was Serene." Her fingers brushed over the emerald scales along her arm. "She was from the Serpent Tribe." Lily looked back at Cecilia. "Mom says I have Mama's eyes."
Margaret smiled gently. "And her hair."
Lily touched a strand of her silver hair, smiling shyly. "I wish I could remember her better."
The room grew quiet. Margaret rested a hand gently on her daughter's shoulder. "You were very young."
Lily nodded. "But Mom tells me stories about Mama every night."
Margaret's smile warmed. "So you'll always remember how much she loved you."
Lily leaned against her side. "I won't forget."
After a moment, Margaret brushed a few silver strands away from Lily's face. "Would you give us a little privacy for now?"
Lily nodded. "Okay." She looked toward Cecilia. "I like your dress."
Cecilia laughed softly. "I do too."
"It looks much better than the big coat." A small laugh escaped Margaret.
"I agree."
Lily giggled before waving. "Bye."
She turned and disappeared down the hallway, Clover tucked safely beneath her arm. The cottage became quiet once again. Margaret watched until Lily was out of sight before turning back toward them. The warmth remained in her expression, but something deeper lingered beneath it.
"Serene..." she said softly. "She was my wife." Cecilia's expression softened. Margaret continued. "She was from the Serpent Tribe." A pause. "And because of the laws of this world... I lost her." Neither Emma nor Cecilia spoke. Margaret looked toward the fireplace. "I know what it means to lose someone because the world decided their love was something it couldn't accept." The words settled heavily in the room.
Then Emma noticed something. Margaret wasn't looking at them anymore. She was looking at the red string. Not with surprise.Not with fear. With something else. Emma's eyes narrowed slightly. "That look."
Margaret glanced back at her. "What look?"
"The one you just gave." Emma tilted her head slightly. "You know something about this."
Cecilia looked between them. "Emma..."
But Emma wasn't accusing her yet. She was simply trying to understand. "This string appeared the moment we were dragged here." She lifted her hand slightly, showing the crimson thread wrapped around her finger. "I've never seen anything like it." A pause. "And judging by your reaction... You have."
Margaret was silent for a moment. Then she sighed softly. "I know of it." Emma studied her.
"How?" Cecilia raised the question.
Margaret's gaze lowered. "Because there was a time when the world believed this magic still existed."
Cecilia leaned forward. "Wait... so you didn't create it?"
Margaret looked at her. "No." Her voice was gentle. "I didn't bring you here." Emma remained quiet. Still watching. Still uncertain.
"But you know what it is."
Margaret nodded. Margaret's gaze lowered to the crimson thread wrapped around their fingers. "The Red String of Fate." The name alone seemed to carry the weight of something ancient. "It is a magic that disappeared from this world a thousand years ago."
Cecilia stared at the glowing thread. "A thousand years..."
Margaret nodded. "Very few still remember its existence. Even fewer understand what it truly means." Her eyes lifted toward them. "But creating such a bond is not within my power."
Emma's gaze sharpened. "Then whose power is it?"
Margaret was silent for a moment before answering. "The kind of magic that created this..." She looked at the thread. "...belongs only to our god." The room grew quiet. "Our god has held that position for exactly a thousand years," Margaret continued. "And even then, a power like this is not something that can be used carelessly."
Cecilia looked down at their intertwined hands.
"Then why us?"
Margaret's expression softened. "That..." She glanced at the crimson thread. "...is the question I am trying to answer as well."