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Sera lifted a brow. "If she scowls at your cake, or tries to eat the biggest piece, I will scold her," she said, half amused, half warning.
Fizz, lounging on the temple railing like a fluffy philosopher, grinned. "No, no. Let her scowl. She can blow the candles out with it. Efficient teamwork."
Sera sighed but smiled. "I'll tell her myself then. She listens to me better than she listens to reason."
Fizz put a paw over his chest. "Excuse me, I am the reason. Sugary reason."
"That," Sera said, "is exactly why I will do the talking."
She reached for the small communication crystal — pure white quartz, threaded with faint golden runes. When she held it, the air seemed to hush. A glow pulsed once in her palm as she whispered the name. "Elara."
The reply came crisp, like a sword sliding into its sheath. "Sera. Is there trouble?"
