I WAS NOT one to break my word.

My right leg was now completely healed; back to being plump and dark brown and sturdy. I was on my feet again, and I had changed from the costume into my issued tank top and jogging pants.

Ironically, I felt more like myself in these clothes. They were standard and common; designed to blanket all species and races —but I saw something wonderful in that suppression. There was a narrow margin for customisation and the expression of individualism, but coming from a place which had drilled arrogance, vanity and self-servitude into us from a young age, I relished the notion of blending in.

Of being unnoticeable.

Though I knew very well that once that Elf had found a way to cross to the Alpha Plane, that privilege would be stripped from me.

The anxiety of lining up possible scenarios and outcomes began to set in again. The Weavers might show a shred of mercy...but the Dreamcatcher Authority would offer no such indulgence. The small committee did not have too much sway in business with the World Weavers —but they certainly had enough.

And I had no doubt in my mind that a certain Dreamcatcher in that council would not hesitate to carry out a petty vendetta against me and dish out the worst sentence of which she could think.

I ground my teeth in frustration.

It was Kynes' fault.

The Wytch herself did not dare to meet my gaze now that I was fit and capable. She did not dare to look in my direction either —in some irrational fear that I might explode with rage at any moment.

I was not so petty as to fake it.

Kynes might deserve my wrath, but I could find none to give her. She was as brief as a summer shower; barely lasting and easily dried up with a bit of time. She had done nothing but that which she had admitted to being a part of her nature. And I stood by my statement that I would be content to never see her again.

This is a good thing.

Yet she made it difficult to discern that.

"Perhaps we will meet again," Kynes said hopefully, still not looking at me. "And perhaps the stars will align and we will be in Hekate's favour."

"Bullshit," murmured Georgia.

Kynes looked appalled that the teenager would dare to besmirch the name of her people's goddess.

"I am inclined to concur," I admitted to the Wytch. "If we ever meet again, it will be too soon."

"It does not have to be so soon," she assured. "Maybe in another hundred years."

I thought about that possibility, and I offered a shrug in response. "I will not be seeking," I added.

"Understandable."

I found it almost laughable that Kynes was hopeful that we could set everything right sometime in the future. As though we could find each other in another world, and be granted the time to court properly.

Though I had a feeling that there was something wrong about us. Something that pulled me away no matter how much she drew me in.

Perhaps there had been a reason for Kynes' twisted truths and manipulation. Like a message to confirm my adamant declaration of eternal solitude.

"When Purple breaks the contract," Georgia then mused, her eyes narrowed at the Wytch, "how will we know that you won't go and sell her out yourself?"

"I am not that petty and desperate," Kynes half laughed, though I could tell that it was strained. "And coincidentally, I doubt that the World Weavers nor the Dreamcatcher Authority would take the words of a wandering Wytch for truth."

"But they would from a wandering Elf?" I deadpanned.

"Elves are more trustworthy than Wytches," Kynes admitted. "They will demand proof, but if I went, their priority would be discovering the reason as to why I would not be with my coven." Her head then bowed, and a dark guilt shadowed her face. "...My kind are quite unwelcome in the Alpha plane."

"That would be your own fault," I remarked crisply, and a bit of irritation began to show itself. "You sided with the Fae Folk and their ways —in this reality and in the old. All because Dreamcatchers look too human, and have no magic of their own."

"But you do," said Kynes, sticking her nose up in the air. "And if another war began, I think that I would side with you this time."

All because of the magic, I wanted to say. It is not even rightfully mine and yet you treat it so.

"...Until we meet again, Kynes," I ended up murmuring solemnly. I wanted to kick myself for sounding so meek and pathetic, and for going along with it so easily. I did not need to rely on her for anything.

I could hold my own.

That was what I told myself as I prepared to summon her. I had cleared a space in the front-of-house to accommodate the size of the spell. The magic needed to transport a fully grown Wytch was heftier than the standard. I had had to learn about such discrepancies, admittedly against my interest and will.

Now it would seem that I would need to go over those laws and restrictions again. I curled my free hand into a fist, wondering about the magic within it.

I would give it back if I could.

I looked at Kynes, and her effortlessness. We did not gain our abilities in any similar way, but she made her magic and occultism a part of her. It might not always have been that way, I realised. Perhaps that was the difference between us.

I did not want to accept mine.

When everything was ready, there was a hesitancy in Kynes' stance; in her expression. And perhaps she noticed me staring, because she made an effort to stand with her feet apart and her hands on her hips. Dominant. Then she put on a wicked sultry smile.

"I do have one possible regret from this," the Wytch said as I twirled the ace of spades between my fingers. "That I never witnessed your male form."

I raised an eyebrow. "Keep that regret," I quipped.

Georgia stifled laughter from where she sat behind the counter, making Kynes growl.

"May I begin now?" I deadpanned.

I heard her slightly sharp intake of breath. "Yes."

I turned the card over to the side with the inscription, and began to read it aloud. "...From storm and ice and blistering blue, I call forth the Wytch to bid her adieu. From the time she gave it for my keep, to now as I let her sleep. I summon thee, Kynes of Willow, knowing that with these words, you will be released."

Royal blue runes and magic circles fizzled to life beneath my feet and Kynes', spinning like grinding gears. The magic surged; blowing our hair and clothes upwards, and emitting a strong blinding light.

Summoning spells cast in such unusual circumstances as these had a habit of being unpredictable; the Wytch was standing right in front of me and the distance the magic would carry her was but an arm's length. It did not mean that it would not work —Kynes most definitely would be summoned.

To my circle.

I was too slow to react as the magic briefly impaired my senses and Kynes crashed directly into me.

My feet barely shifted because she weighed a bit next to nothing, but it was enough to stun the both of us. Our eyes met —and no fire burned in that blue. Guilt had dowsed that drive of selfishness.

For a moment, we could do nothing except grasp each other and stare. Around us, the magic circles splintered into the still air. At this distance, Kynes' hair looked like spins of black web; her makeup glittered; and her irises swirled with dark blue storm clouds.

"...Damnit," I breathed.

My surprise seemed to last longer than hers.

A smile spread across her black lips. "Oh. In a turn of events, it appears that I have fallen for you."

I heard Georgia mime retching as a commentary.

While giving into the urge to roll my eyes, I promptly grumbled, "Get out of my shop, Kynes."

She raised her hands in surrender and stalked several paces backwards. When she reached the door, she waved her hand across in front of her chest and pulled out her pointed hat from thin air along with it, before setting it atop her head. She tipped the brim in farewell, the lace and ribbon billowing.

"She's definitely going to exploit this," Georgia grumbled, leaning forward on the counter.

"I am prepared for that," I sighed.

"Why are you still so tolerant of her?" asked the blonde. "She put your life in danger on purpose —all for an advantage. Why aren't you upset?"

"Because I do not know her," I answered truthfully, shrugging. "I have no bond with her that is now broken. She did not break my trust —she never had it in the first place." I walked over to the windows to watch the light rain that had begun to fall. "...Betrayal is never done by one's enemies," I murmured.

I could tell that the teenager did not understand, in the long pause of silence that she let pass.

"That's the reason you're going with?" she eventually deadpanned. "She's your enemy? And the fact that she might have meant nothing to you?"

"She did mean nothing," I confirmed. "In a personal way, I mean. We are strangers. And I will not feel anger towards a stranger who was simply looking out for their own interests —even if they were at my expense."

"But why?" she groaned. "I would have killed her."

"There was no point," I said in a firmer tone. "There was no point in being angry with her and there is no point in retaliating. What will it gain? What good would it do to report her to her coven?"

Georgia paused. "Wait. She's a runaway?"

I hated how I could hear her smiling craftily as she said those words.

"There is no certainty, so do not get any ideas," I clipped. "They may have exiled her."

"So what," scoffed the teenager. "I still think we should tell them. I doubt that they'll be too pleased to hear about what she did to a Dreamcatcher."

And there it was —quite suddenly and apparent. There was the underlying fact that I was a Dreamcatcher, and would be held in higher esteem than a Wytch. It would be her word against mine.

Perhaps a part of me had already known that. Which was why I had said nothing, done nothing.

I had wanted to protect her.

"...You're too forgiving, Purple," Georgia sighed in defeat. "Too accommodating."

"Who else will do it, if I do not?" I said flatly.

My eyes followed a single solitary raindrop as it slid down on the glass. I saw other drops join together along their descent, but the one I watched did not merge with any others. It streaked down slowly.

At its own pace, with its own intent.

"You don't have to give yourself that responsibility," Georgia huffed. "And I certainly don't think that Wytch deserved any of your kindness."

I said nothing in response.

Because I did not agree.

"...Well, no matter what you think of her, good riddance," Georgia ground out through her teeth, before turning to march briskly into the back room.

I was then left alone with my thoughts.

It was stubbornness only —I was not so foolish as to think Kynes blameless.

I knew never to trust a Wytch —and I had entertained the idea simply for a short term indulgence to get Kynes to leave. She had harboured ulterior motives as well, albeit the result of hers may have me killed.

Yet she had still came back, and healed me. Instinct told me that she had something else planned, and would fulfil it through an 'I owe you'. But a smaller part of me hoped that it was a slither of guilt-induced kindness.

Wytches were not immune to such emotions in the same way that Dreamcatchers were.

Maybe I should have invited her in to stay, seeing as she really did no longer have ties to her coven. She would be all alone out there, in the ash and rain.

It was cold outside.

I shivered, and wrapped my arms around myself as I exhaled. It was easier to notice the emptiness of the Cotton Candy in the sudden silence and stillness.

Though even when Kynes was gone, her scent of lavender and the night sea lingered.