The first soft and amber light of dawn slipped through gauzy curtains, catching on crystals and hanging charms, scattering faint colors over the walls. The apartment seemed to breathe with them—warm, alive, quietly attentive. Somewhere deep within the timbers, Neroghan's presence lingered, gentle and unseen, the pulse of a guardian spirit content to maintain his watch in silence.
The scent of sandalwood and rain hung in the air, threaded with coffee gone cold and the sweetness of crushed herbs. Plants crowded the windowsill—succulents, vines, and wild cuttings growing in mismatched jars. Their leaves glowed faintly where the sun touched them, reflecting the shimmer of slow-moving runes carved along the headboard and doorframe.
The bed dominated the space, tangled in the aftermath of passion—sheets rumpled and half-slid to the floor, pillows thrown wide, a jacket caught on the footboard. One of Seraphine's silver rings lay near a candle stub on the nightstand beside an open journal filled with symbols and notes written in looping ink. A faint residue of magic hovered in the air, invisible yet palpable, the kind that lingers after strong emotion.
Seraphine lay on her side, hair spilling over her arm, breathing steady and unguarded. Liam faced her, eyes half-open, a small smile caught between sleep and waking. His hand rested near hers on the sheets, close but not touching. They were held in a hush that felt sacred, as if they understood what peace cost them to find.
Beyond the windows, the world was muted—the city visible in the far distance, softened by rising heat haze and pollution smog. The wind brushed the chimes with a single note, low and clear, and for a heartbeat the room seemed to exist outside of time.
Then Seraphine stirred, murmuring something too soft to catch. Liam shifted closer, the motion barely enough to disturb the light. The faint shimmer of the runes along the headboard flickered in response, like a sigh.
Neroghan seemed to smile as they discussed his hunt, its outcome, magic, Isla, and everything. The only thing they agreed upon was that it made no sense.
"So what do we do now?" she'd asked, frustration colouring her voice.
"We," he mused, "That's a "we" and not a "you," directed at me?" he teased. Coming from Seraphine, it warmed his heart that there was a "we," and "us."
She smiled, somehow looking up at him from where her head rested on his chest, "of course." She slipped from his arms, somehow taking her warmth with her as she stood, and stretched luxuriously like a cat rising from a sunbeam nap. And Liam enjoyed the view.
She slipped into a silk bathrobe, turning as she knotted it one handed, and then sat back on the bed. She laughed at the pout on Liam's face, "You can enjoy more of me later, but for now, I need you to focus."
The pout gave way to the cheeky, yet warm smile, "I am." he patted the bed next to him. She grinned and clambered back on to the bed and snuggled up against him. The entire room seemed to glow for a moment, a hum of approval radiating from the walls.
Liam tensed as he felt a pulse of magic. Seraphine turned, and held out a cup of coffee for him, black and ice cold. For herself, a cup of tea. They sipped in companionable silence, neither own willing to break the spell that enveloped them both.
With a sigh, he finally spoke up, "What if… Isla is the only one we know about? What if there are others?"
Her cup froze halfway towards the bedside table, "Others? As in…" she frowned, "How many dates have you been on these past months Liam?"
He froze, wondering if this was a trap of some sort, or worse, a test, "Uh… the six you set me up on…and three others through Tinder, the app you helped me set up, against my will…"
"That's nine," she smiled that sweet smile men the world over know, "I presume those dating apps will be deleted?"
He nodded, carefully, "But maybe… I… we can use the apps to check and see if they are ok?" Seraphine crossed her arms, the smiler somehow sweeter and deadlier all at once, "Whether any of them are… you know… dead?"
"Are any of them dead?" she asked. He noted that her tea was no longer warm, but now giving off an icy cold smoke that made his coffee seem positively warm.
Liam blinked. "I don't know," he rushed, "I haven't exactly had a reason to keep in touch with any of them."
"Well… I can check on them magically," she said, "so you," she suggested, "should be deleting apps." Liam raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "I'd rather not have my boyfriend calling every woman he's dated in the past six months" she grinned, "Sue me, I'm possessive."
He grinned and pulled her into a kiss, "You going to scry for them?"
She slides out of bed, all feline like with a grin, "Yep. Coming?"
He hesitates, magic of all things makes him uncomfortable, especially since his magic is not the most stable, "Yeah sure, if my presence won't screw things up."
"Give me 5 mins to prepare. Then ask Neroghan for the ritual space. He'll take you there." There was a golden glow in the door frame before she skipped through and vanished.
He took his time in the shower - almost ten minutes to soak under the hot spray before dressing and heading out in to the living room, still nursing the dregs of his coffee. Standing in the living room, he looks around studying the cluttered mess that is just… Seraphine.
The was a gentle tremor, a shudder that he was certain only he could feel. A call through magic. He glanced at the mirror and crossed to the fireplace, letting his hand rest carefully upon the mantle. The Ancient Heart's presence filled the room. "Neroghan," he says softly, "Greetings."
"Liam Duskwood," was the rumbled response, "You and my daughter are fast approaching a crossroads, in life and love."
Liam started, "Daughter? Wait… she's… half blood right?" he questioned, "How's she…"
"Metaphorically, not literally your short lived idiot, " Neroghan paused, and then almost growled, "Does her blood matter to you?"
"Yes! No! I mean, it matters so I know who and what she is," the answering silence was equal warning and threat. Liam felt like he was talking to a father, polishing his shotgun, with live shells on the table in front of them both, "We deal with magic, the supernatural, monsters, myths and legends. Blood plays a role in all of that!"
The silence became less threatening, as Neroghan receded slightly, "A fair point," it was silent for a long moment. "You are not one I would choose for my Seraphine." Liam was silent, "But her choices are her own..." The aged Ancient struggled to find the words, "Take care of my Sera, Liam Duskwood. She is all I have left in the world."
"You have my word," he replied formally, then grinned at the half formed reflection in the mantlepiece mirror, that reflected soft glowing green eyes, "Not that…she needs protecting."
"Indeed," rumbled Neroghan, "Given her more impulsive nature, and glib tongue, I suspect she will need chaperoning, and you will need protection from her."
They two shared a chuckle, over someone they cared about deeply in agreement. "The ritual space?"
"Yes, please."
The doorway grew out of the ground, silent and deliberate. Vines pushed through hardwood floorboards as if the apartment itself had roots, curling upward into an arching frame of blooming wisteria. Clusters of lavender blossoms swayed gently, though no wind stirred them, releasing a faint, honeyed scent that whispered of secrets kept and love offered without demand.
There was no door—only an opening. Within the frame, the portal shimmered like heat over stone, barely visible. A veil of golden haze, soft as breath on bare skin, warm like a memory you didn't know you'd lost. It didn't hum or crackle or glow. It was an invitation borne of the knowledge that you would step through
In a space, simply beyond the mortal realm, Seraphine continued preparations. While the preparations for a scrying ritual are simple, and could be ready within moments, she drew out the process, taking time to marshall her thoughts. On Liam. On them. Together. It made her feel warm, and safe, and desired.
The magic gusted through the ritual space, the equivalent of a knock. Seraphine didn't get a word in as a faint tremor, like a heartbeat rising from long slumber. Wooden beams gave a sigh as the air warmed - not by magic alone, but also in recognition. The smells of damp earth and rosewood resin mingled with the lavender, honeysuckle, and nightshade.
Light shifted as afternoon sun deepened into amber. It pooled and the timber walls rippled, knots of wood stretching and smoothed and a shape began to rise, taking on the head, shoulders and broad outline of a man.
Roots unfurled from the floorboards, curling upwards like smoke tendrils as the amber glow unhurriedly bled life through the bark-like texture of his forming skin. When the shape steadied, it took the appearance of a lean, rough-hewn man, who somehow had a presence as solid as the building itself.
His eyes were the vibrant deep green of old rainforests after their daily rain. He looked around the room—the hearth, the shelves, the walls—all parts of himself, and then toward where Seraphine stood watching. A faint smile touched his lips, calm and certain. "So," he said. His voice was low, layered with the sound of shifting leaves. "Duskwood walks beside you now."
It wasn't an accusation. It was understanding.
The floorboards creaked softly, warmth spreading underfoot as the few lights steadied, becoming gentler, almost affectionate. Neroghan's shape wavered, his edges thinning as the glow faded from his skin. He inclined his head once, slow and approving. "You've chosen with courage, child. But, you have not told him yet, have you?" It is a question, not an accusation.
She sighed, "It's barely been a day since we spoke, and well," she shrugged, equal parts playful and frustrated, "Things have happened. This Isla business…"
"I know, my spirited one," Neroghan's voice had that sly, teasing edge, one she recognized, that had her guard up almost instantly, "I have spoken with him," her head snapped up, "And I told him something important."
"What did you tell him?!"
"I told him that I approve, little witch." replied Neroghan, "He is not my first choice perhaps, but you could do worse - and have in the past." There was a creek as the walls took a breath, "You know as well as I do, that you should be the one to tell him."
Her happiness was marred by what she has not told him. What magic did. She knows she has to tell him, but how to tell him, in the middle of all this.. For the moment, all this is … could be nothing.. Then it would be the best time to tell him. Exactly what the bargain entrails, who is bound by what.
The door glowed and there was another knock, "I do approve," repeated Neroghan, "But settle this affair quickly, for both your sakes." Neroghan retreated, and she allowed the door to open with a thought.
"Set?" He stepped through the door, playful tone and banter gone. All business now
"Yes." she replied calmly.
"Let's do this."