The teahouse was different again.
It balanced this time on the back of something vast and moving — a creature that never surfaced, its immense shadow sliding beneath shifting waters. The floorboards swayed gently with the current, and the walls were painted in colors that weren't colors at all, shifting every time one blinked.
The table was not round, nor square, nor anything in between; its edges folded and unfolded like origami, never quite settling. The cups were mismatched, each stolen from a different place and time. Some were cracked, some were gold-leafed, one was a chipped mug that read World's Best Dad.
At the head of the table, barefoot as always, sat Luna Heartreach in her white dress. A kettle steamed in front of her, though the steam curled upward into shapes that seemed to snicker before fading. She waited.
She always waited.
The first to arrive was Loki, Norse god of mischief, in the guise of a tall man with hair the color of wet fox fur and eyes full of schemes. He strolled in with the casual grace of someone who might just as easily have decided to burn the place down instead.
"No guards? No wards? Bold." He smirked, sliding into the seat to Luna's right.
"Locks are for people afraid of opening," Luna said.
The paper wall on the far side flipped itself inside out, and Anansi the spider-god stepped through, wearing a well-cut suit and a smile too big to be entirely friendly. Eight long shadow-legs followed him before folding neatly away.
"This," Anansi said warmly, "looks like trouble."
"It's tea," Luna replied. "Same thing."
The third guest came in upside down. Coyote, from the First Nations stories, swung down from the rafters by his ankles before dropping into a chair with a thud. His grin was too wide, his teeth too white.
"Got any snacks?" he asked.
"The tea is the snack," Luna said.
"That's disappointing."
The final arrival didn't use the door at all. Kitsune, the Japanese fox spirit, simply wasn't there, and then was, tails fanning behind her. Her eyes gleamed like stolen lantern light.
"I almost didn't come," Kitsune said, sliding into her seat. "But then I remembered: mortals who invite us usually regret it. I enjoy regret."
Luna smiled faintly. "I like tea with a kick."
She poured without asking who wanted what. Loki's tea came out green and shimmering, Anansi's dark as molasses, Coyote's bubbled as though boiling, and Kitsune's was pale gold with faint sparkles.
They drank.
For Loki, it tasted like the moment just before a lie is believed.
For Anansi, it was the warmth of a story hook catching the listener's ear.
For Coyote, it was the first bite of stolen food before anyone noticed it was gone.
For Kitsune, it was the sigh after a prank has worked perfectly.
For Luna, it was still just tea.
Loki leaned back. "You didn't bring us here for polite conversation."
"I didn't bring you," Luna said. "I set the table. You came."
Anansi chuckled. "She's good."
Coyote leaned forward. "What's the game?"
"No game," Luna said lightly. "Games end. I want something that doesn't."
Kitsune tilted her head. "Ah. A trick without an end."
"Exactly," Luna murmured.
"I want each of you," Luna said, "to tell me the greatest trick you never played."
"Never played?" Loki arched a brow. "What's the point of that?"
"Because," Luna said softly, "those are the ones still alive."
The four tricksters exchanged glances, the air thick with the scent of plotting.
Loki spoke first. "Once, I considered convincing Odin that the end of the world had already happened, and that he was merely the dream of a dead god. But… I didn't. I realized the dream might notice it was dreaming, and wake."
Anansi smiled. "I nearly wove a story so perfect that the listener would forget they were listening and live in it forever. But I didn't. Stories need an ending, or they rot."
Coyote grinned. "I thought about moving the stars so travelers would walk forever in circles. But I didn't. Even I don't like being that lost."
Kitsune sipped her tea. "Once, I considered falling in love honestly. But I didn't. Honesty is harder to keep than a lie."
Luna nodded. "Good answers. Now for the second question: If you could undo the one trick that worked too well, would you?"
Anansi's smile dimmed. "I once tricked a man into thinking he could not die. He proved me right — but in the wrong way. I would undo it."
Coyote laughed softly. "I convinced a river to change its course. The people it saved had children who caused more trouble than the river ever did. I'd undo it just to keep my paws clean."
Kitsune's tails flicked. "I tricked a man into forgetting his wife. She fell in love with someone else. I… might undo that. Or not. Some days I think yes. Some days I don't."
Loki smirked. "I would undo nothing. Even my worst tricks were worth the chaos."
When Luna poured again, the steam didn't rise — it swirled around their heads like lazy smoke, shaping itself into shifting illusions: a door with no handle, a coin with two heads, a fox curled around a spider, a coyote chasing his own tail.
"This tea is strange," Coyote muttered.
"It's listening," Luna said.
"To what?" Anansi asked.
"To the part of you that isn't lying."
Luna set her cup down. "I want to show you something. But you can't touch it."
She reached into her dress pocket and drew out a single glass marble. Inside it, tiny motes of light swirled like a trapped galaxy.
"This," Luna said, "is a lie so perfect it believes itself."
The tricksters leaned in.
"Where did you get it?" Kitsune whispered.
"I didn't," Luna said. "It came to me."
Loki's eyes narrowed. "What happens if it breaks?"
"The lie forgets it was a lie," Luna said softly. "And then it becomes truth."
Anansi grinned. "And you're showing this to us?"
"Yes," Luna replied. "Because you'll try to take it, and you'll fail. That's the point."
They moved almost as one — Loki's hand snaking forward, Anansi's shadows stretching, Coyote lunging, Kitsune's tails flicking like whips.
But the marble rolled… nowhere. It simply wasn't where they reached for it. Their hands met empty table.
"Where is it?" Coyote demanded.
"In the tea," Luna said, and drank the last drop from her cup.
The tricksters stared.
"You played us," Loki said, almost impressed.
"You came here to be played," Luna answered. "All good tricks are circles. You just walked one."
Kitsune's laughter was soft but genuine. "You might be one of us."
"Maybe," Luna said, rising. "But I'm not done being me yet."
They left in their own ways — Loki fading into smoke, Anansi stepping into the shadow under his chair, Coyote simply not being there anymore, Kitsune vanishing in a flutter of leaves.
The teahouse swayed gently as if relieved to be empty again. Luna poured herself one last cup from the kettle, though it was full of nothing but water now.
It still tasted like tea.