NO MATTER THE sentence that Magenta wished to pass, I would resist.

I had resolved to agree with anything but death; service, being under constant surveillance —or even taking ability suppressors. I would lie and accept anything if it meant that I could go back to Adam.

Magenta was rightfully a little stuck on me causing people to sleep, but she did not dwell on it. The fact that the spell wore off and was even less effective on creatures of magic was an aid to my case.

"After reviewing the situation," the Dreamcatcher sighed, "it is difficult to accept this unusual occurrence. There are too many variables —too many risks. Even if you lead a quiet life, there is no guarantee that nothing ill will come of your abilities."

"What does that mean specifically?" I questioned.

Magenta's expression did not change, but her irritation simmered. It was clear that she now wanted to be done with all of this —as though I were the one wasting her time. "It means that you have two options."

"One of them is death," quipped the Elf.

"Be quiet," the Dreamcatcher ordered, denying him even the basic attention of a glance. "Ignore him," she told me. "I will tell you the real options."

My jaw clenched as I braced myself to hear it.

But Magenta was then interrupted before she had even opened her mouth again.

Someone suddenly stumbled up the steps behind me, panting and out of breath. There was a waft of mint in the air. I turned around and stilled at the sight of Adam, still clad in his higher Fae disguise.

My heart felt like it would burst.

Had the World Weavers answered my silent prayers? Were there gods who were watching over me? It actually felt more like the stars had aligned, and Fate had knocked them into that formation.

"Adam?" I called out in disbelief.

"Purple. You are...still alive," he said back, relieved.

For a moment, all Adam and I could do was stare. It was as though we were not quite sure that the other was really there. I was glad to note that he looked unharmed —so his trek had been a fair one.

He seemed to come to a similar conclusion about me, as he then took several steps forward.

My legs moved on their own, and I found myself running to close the distance.

Words could not describe how it felt to embrace him; to have him hold me as though I were the only thing which mattered. He felt solid and real —it was not some kind of trickery. He smoothed a hand along my jaw, still unbelieving of the proof.

"How are you here?" I asked breathlessly, frowning.

"The king of Winfrost allowed me," Adam murmured. "He guards the Gate now —I am not sure how long it has been that way. But do not worry; we were not in danger. He was a little preoccupied with a certain Faerie to notice that I changed my destination."

I could not help but to wonder if Edva taking a position in his court as a statesman was the only thing that the king wanted from him.

"Where is Georgia?" I inquired, glancing behind him and hoping not to find her.

"She was sent to Earth," he confirmed. "She is safe at the other Gate. It is just me here."

I pressed my forehead against his gratefully, unable to put all of my thoughts into words.

Magenta stood up from the throne casually and unhurried. The full length of her gown was revealed; the skirt flaring subtly and the sturdy bodice freestanding from the thin straps falling over her shoulders, made of the same onyx velvet as the rest of the dress. The pink gemstones which lined it shimmered gloriously.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, though her voice was even and empty. "Who gave you the permission to enter this realm?"

We then broke apart, realising how oblivious we had become to our surroundings. "King Zainus of Winfrost," answered Adam.

Magenta pressed her deep aubergine painted lips into a line, meaning that she knew the king had the authority to override their procedures.

"State your business quickly," she then permitted the soldier. "We have a trial to conclude."

I tensed, and Adam must have felt it, because he then took a step in front of me, like a protective knight. "You cannot execute Purple," Adam seethed, "My business is to ensure their safety."

The Dreamcatcher's eyes narrowed and she squared her shoulders; the bones angular and harsh. "Just because you are a statesman, it does not mean that you have that right. This is not your jurisdiction."

"I...I am not a statesman," Adam began, sighing.

I gasped. Did he mean to out himself? Magenta could have him killed for it. "Adam, no —"

"I am not even Fae," he ignored my protest, and removed the prosthetic ears. Magenta merely raised an eyebrow. "I am a human," the soldier declared.

This stupid idiot, I internally growled.

The Elf recoiled at the revelation, outraged. Though Magenta did not share in the shock. And it did not seem as though she would end his life.

"A human," the Dreamcatcher mused. "I did think that there was something off about your scent. I assumed that it was from your time in the Gamma Plane, but now I know that I can never make that misjudgement again." She then raised a brow. "So, did you lie to me as well? How did you really get here?"

"I didn't lie about that," Adam assured. "I did receive permission from the king of Winfrost."

"But you acquired it on the basis of a lie," Magenta accused. "You have violated a law."

"What law?" I cut in. "There is no law that states humans cannot come to the Alpha Plane with reason."

"Has your judgement been clouded, Purple?" she questioned. "That is a human. He probably fought in the war to get rid of creatures of magic."

"I did," Adam admitted. I pinched his arm.

"See," Magenta quipped, nodding triumphantly.

"My time as a soldier is not what is on trial here," reasoned the human. "In fact, I would like to testify as a witness. Would you not evaluate the words of a perceived enemy in defence of your people?"

The Dreamcatcher hummed, her skirt sweeping as she gracefully turned around. She had her back to us for a minute, mulling over the proposition. The Elf was at her heel, trying to make her see reason. His input was cast aside; he was stepping over a fine line.

I then took the opportunity to glance at Adam out of the corner of my eye. He was stoic, composed and rigid. I slowly ran a hand along his arm, feeling the tautness, and realised just how much fear was there as well.

"We will make it out of here," I murmured. He did not answer aloud —he only gave a small nod.

Magenta then cleared her throat as she faced us again. "I will count your testimony," she stated.

Adam and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"This is foolishness," hissed the Elf, shaking his head. "What things of value will his account add?"

The Dreamcatcher simply held her hand up in a way to silence him, as her gaze did not waver from Adam.

"You have thirty seconds," she quipped.

"I met Purple under strange circumstances," he started. "I had a spell cast on me that prevented me from sleeping, but I was instructed to seek the help of a Dreamcatcher. Purple's shop happened to be the closest."

"Twenty seconds," Magenta interjected.

The soldier grumbled. "I have since been healed of my ailment. In the time that I have known them, Purple has shown me that magic can be a good, amazing thing. They are a good and amazing person. And they are a threat to no one," Adam insisted.

I swallowed nervously at his claim of having been cured, but that was a conversation for another time.

"It is fortunate that Purple helped you cure your insomnia, human, but you are missing a vital point," Magenta said. "It is not so much what she can do with the magic, but rather, what it can do for others."

"I don't follow," Adam frowned.

"There is nothing preventing unsavoury characters from ensnaring or extracting her magic to be used unlawfully," she explained, turning up her nose.

The soldier was not fazed. "What is to stop them from doing that right now, with abilities that already exist in other creatures of magic?" he reasoned.

He looked at the Elf briefly, as if to hint that it had already been done. I admired that audacity, especially as the Elf bowed his head and inched backwards.

Had he stolen his shadow magic from someone else —or had it been forced upon him? I struggled to feel sympathetic towards him either way.

Strangely, Adam's question was enough to make Magenta pause. The logic was sound —the threat of magic theft existed whether or not I had my own.

Perhaps she felt more new to her position than for which I gave her credit. This was likely her first solo hearing, and it was already unraveling. She was not completely in control, and she had just realised it. Though I knew that she hated being proven wrong more than anything. And when the Dreamcatcher found that she could make no more excuses, she continued where she had left off, as if Adam had never intruded.

"...There is only one option now," she informed me; her voice controlled and smooth, but her eyes burning with scorn. "Unless you wish to die, you are to remain here in the Alpha Plane. Give up your shop, and assume the head of what used to be our household."

"What?" hissed Adam —and the Elf, who had come out from the shadows simply for that. Kynes' frost still discoloured his skin ( though it had begun to fade ) which made him stumble.

"I thought that the punishment was death," the Elf grumbled. "What is this second chance?"

"It is not a second chance," the Dreamcatcher clarified, her gaze briefly and barely flickering in his general direction. "It is an ultimatum."

I blinked, stepping forward to stand beside the human. I almost asked for Magenta to repeat herself. Then I thought over the conditions, and it hit me.

This was not about me possessing magic —not in the way that she had presented it. There was a reason that the rest of the Dreamcatcher Authority had not given this trial another thought: because it did not need it.

This trial was a coverup.

For all of my childhood, Magenta had kept me underneath her thumb; ensuring that I never had the confidence to surpass her. Now I understood. I had finally achieved ( or rather, been given ) something that she had not. And she could not stand it.

She wanted to keep me here; to keep me close so that she could monitor my progress. She was not that concerned about what others could do with the magic —she wanted to do something with it.

When I realised that, rage bubbled up inside of me.

"Purple," Adam whispered as he looked at me, his eyes full of apprehension. I shook my head, assuring him that I would not give in to her.

I had to be stronger and without fear, for once in my life, and tell her precisely what I thought.

"No," I refused Magenta. "You should know that the Cotton Candy means everything to me."

She appeared to have anticipated some level of resistance, because she was not thrown off.

"Forget about that place," she clipped. "Its destruction and ruin are inevitable."

"No," I said again. "And it is not only about the shop. What about the people I have met? What about everything I have worked for —on my own?"

"...Come home," she said firmly, her eyes narrowing.

How did Magenta dare to use that word?

Even she had not called it home —not aloud, or when she had spoken to me. What gave her the impression that I loved the four walls that had entrapped me?

"Home?" I echoed. "Since when was this place ever home? We lived in a house, Magenta. I grew up in an oversized house with oversized entitlement, but never did I once call it home," I spat.

She looked at me; really looked at me for the first time in a long while, and miraculously seemed to understand. She understood that I was not like her.

And that I was never going to be.

"...It matters not," she dismissed. "But there is absolutely no question in you staying here."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Why?" she echoed, one eyebrow arched. "Because you belong here. It is time that you started acting like what you are, not what you wish you could be. You are not a human, Purple," she reminded me.

I withdrew, realising something important. Something that was so plain to see now, but had been shrouded by pride and bitterness.

"You mean that I am not better than you," I corrected.

Adam drew a breath. It was plain to see now —that I was not alone in the way I saw myself as more human than Dreamcatcher. Many would believe that to be a terrible, traitorous thing —or even as weakness.

I thought that it was just the way that I was.

The pink in Magenta's eyes flared. "Are you insinuating that humans are better than us?" she asked.

"Some are," I quipped, adding a shrug.

The Elf let out a faint hiss, and those coils of mist and smoke lengthened and snaked in my direction.

I saw Adam smirk out of the corner of my vision.

"Insolence," articulated the Dreamcatcher. Her eyes then landed on the soldier, who erased any trace of his amusement. "Is he one of your better humans?"

I stiffened. "Yes."

"He fought in the war to get rid of you, Purple —or have you already forgotten that?" she taunted.

"He did not know me then," I pointed out. "Any mortal and immortal alike can make mistakes, Magenta. Even so, Adam thought that there was a better way," I insisted. "He did not kill in cold blood."

"Him and what army?" Magenta sneered, looking down at me through her long sooty lashes.

My anger simmered, and my hands curled into fists. "It does not matter. Leave him out of this."

The Dreamcatcher sighed. "I should have known that one day you would involve yourself too deeply with these mortals." Then she paused. "...Do not tell me —have you mated with this one?"

"You know that we can do no such thing."

A vague hint of amusement glimmered in those fiery eyes —a distasteful display with which she would not get away had the rest of the council been present. "I did not mean soul to soul."

My jaw clenched at the realisation of what she meant. It was none of her business, but I could not lie to her. I had to acknowledge the existence of the event —though also show her that it did not have the same meaning to me as that of any other species.

"There was and is no love in it," I assured. "You know that we do not feel such emotion."

"And even if there were, neither one of us is ready for that," Adam added, to my surprise. I had not expected him to come to my defence on that front.

Magenta's nostrils flared just slightly in offence. "Did I give you permission to speak, human?"

"What gives you the impression that you have that authority?" the soldier questioned.

Magenta exhaled sharply. She could see it —the way that inquiry threatened to crumble the entire Dreamcatcher Authority; not just her.

"You are in no position to question that," she said evenly. I was slightly impressed by her restraint. "You do not know of the centuries we have toiling alongside the World Weavers, working our way bit by bit to receive the respect and recognition which we now have. How dare you belittle that."

How incredibly insecure was she to bring that up?

Adam was steely, unaffected. He knew that it was wise to say nothing further.

"...I have had quite enough of this," Magenta then announced. "Purple, if you refuse, I can order a —"

"No you cannot," I cut her off.

"Excuse me?"

"You cannot give an order for me to be killed unless I am found guilty," I elaborated. "And since your trial was complete horseshit anyway, I do not think that anyone would agree with your verdict."

"What?" she murmured. "Horseshit?"

"You want me to stay here for your benefit," I clarified. "I realised it when you ordered me to establish a noble position. This is not about me and belonging with our people, Magenta. Admit that you cannot stand the fact that I will not listen to you now —despite the fact that you are in the Dreamcatcher Authority."

I expected a harsh response; a scolding just as she would have given me all of those years ago.

Yet the Dreamcatcher refrained from such disgraces. She composed herself, her expression back to grave and neutral. Then she turned on her heal and sunk back down on the bloodstone throne; desperate for that deluded kernel of influence and power.

She had not changed too greatly since her promotion, but she wore the blank mask well.

The Elf hesitated to speak out of turn, but did not hide his disapproval. He looked at the Dreamcatcher as though to challenge her acceptance of my words.

Magenta completely ignored him, which only made his frustration fester. Her focus was on me.

"You have grown," she said. "I would not think that you have caught on so quickly. I will not pretend that your insinuations are false, but I will not express remorse. My intentions may have been too much in the realm of...family. You are no longer the young daydreamer of whom I was ashamed of knowing. Granted, your priorities are still...misguided," she put politely. "But you have lived a life that is your own."

I was surprised by the sincerity of her honesty. It was also pleasant to know that even she could not slip so easily into our roles as severed sisters.

"I intend to keep it that way," I promised.

"You are no longer in need of my influence and guidance," she assured me. "Not that you would have followed either. But if you will not stay in the Alpha Plane, what is it that you intend to do?"

Before I could think, my hand reached for Adam's. I tried to play it off casually but we both stiffened. "You will grant us passage back to the Gamma Plane, Magenta," I then told her. "And you will leave me alone."

"Why would I do that?" she asked, her eyes lidding. "Who are you to order me?"

"I am legally your superior," I ground out through my teeth. "We both know that magic surpasses those without —even those in positions of power."

The Dreamcatcher's eyes narrowed and she rolled her wrists. "If that is the way you feel, then why did you answer my call in the first place?"

"I had not known that it was solely yours."

"So you would only listen if the other members were present?" she concluded. I could sense a glimmer of disappointment in her face, in the way that she turned her head to the side, lightly sullen.

"There is only so much rejection of authority which can be tolerated," I reasoned. "In this instance, one is enough. Perhaps when the rest of the council decide to see me as a threat, I will return."

She said nothing.

And she remained silent for a long while, even as she then eventually stood again to activate the Gate —the archway between the bronze trees.

My natural warmth went cold when I realised that there were only three of us instead of four.

The Elf was nowhere to be seen; even within the shadows. It sent a chill down my spine to know that he had escaped, enraged by the collapse of my assessment. If I was correct, and he was not smart, then he would seek his revenge in due course.

I was not filled with worry —he could barely move as it was. If he would challenge me, it would be in a time long enough for me to prepare.

I could not tell whether Magenta yearned for the same vengeance —her pinched face was unreadable, and even her eyes were unlit.

It seemed that I had won the battle, for the first time.

I hoped that she was reflecting on herself, and her own choices. How strange it was that she thought she had made all of the correct ones, and yet I seemed far more content with my own.

The space between the trees swirled with water —the symbol of life; of beginnings.

Adam turned to walk over, before realising that his hand was still in mine. We froze for a moment. It felt slightly strange and unromantic —like the way a guardian would hold a child's hand. It was different from when I had been saying goodbye, because now we were reunited and no longer dreading demise. We glanced at our entwined fingers before pulling them apart, no longer seeing a reason to keep them clasped.

We would simply stick to carnal intimacy.

To my surprise, Magenta was still not preventing us from leaving as she resumed her seat on the throne; the air about her one of darkness and mystery. She did then call out to me when I was a foot from the Gate.

Curious, I paused to listen.

"...I will not forget this," she swore.

Every part of her was stiff, second-guessing. I had never seen her so scorned, yet so wretchedly nonchalant. Had I rattled her so much that she no longer had any rejoinders to unleash against me?

For the first time in my entire life, I felt pity. Perhaps even Magenta did not deserve to be perceived as perfect; to be mounted on that pedestal.

Even beautiful roses wilted.

I smiled as I then turned back one last time to tell her, "I would hope not."