Footsteps, loud and annoyed.

A loud crash; a curse.

A thud, like the sound of someone kicking something.

More crashes.

"Um," Chia says, her tone enough to convey it all.

Yara is the only one who keeps her eyes locked on the door as the rest of them trade uncertain glances.

Another few seconds pass, a wind picking up, rustling the leaves in the trees and causing those on the ground to tumble and scatter every which way, blowing strands of Kaya's hair into her face as fast as she can brush them away.

Her ears perk up as she hears more footsteps, finally stopping at the door.

"Listen," the voice of what seems to be a very pissed-off woman says (Chia gulps), "if you're here to try to get me to buy those damn newspapers again –"

Yara shoots the others a look that says 'let me handle this', and Tam shrugs, mouthing "all yours" and gesturing at the door.

"We aren't here to sell newspapers," Yara says, tone clipped and to-the-point – the voice she uses when negotiating. "We're here because there's something we need to discuss with you."

"I'm not interested in whatever other crap you're trying to sell," the woman snaps back. "Get lost, brats."

"It's something important," Yara persists.

"Do you think I care?"

"No, I don't. But it's something you'll want to hear – and it's either we do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning either you open the door, let us in and listen to what we say, or we break one of your windows and climb in."

Allioni is gesturing frantically at Yara and mouthing "be nice" while Tam simply facepalms and mumbles something along the lines of "I'm too tired for this. Weren't we supposed to be diplomatic?"

"Shut up," Yara hisses back at both of them – though it's largely directed at Tam.

There is a slight pause from the door before the woman says, "The windows are barred."

"Then we'll come in through your chimney," Yara deadpans back.

"This house doesn't have one."

"We could always make one. By force. To, you know, both serve as an entrance and funnel out the smoke from the fire that blowing a hole in your roof will inevitably cause. Chia would love to help with that. Wouldn't you, Chia?"

Chia grins and flashes a thumb up. "If it involves blowing things up? Absolutely."

Tam sighs. "I never should've let you two meet."

"Shut up," Yara says again before turning back to the door. "So, what'll it be?"

"You kids sure are persistent," the woman grumbles. "Are you really that desperate?"

"Like I said, it's important," she replies. "There's something we need to discuss with you, Anya Hawthorne –"

"– are you crazy? My mother has been dead for over twenty years –"

"– or should I say, Shu Anya?" Yara finishes.

There is a long, pregnant pause.

A click, the sound of something unlocking and the deadbolt sliding open.

"Well, would you look at that," Tam muses. "She actually did it."

"Shut up," she says for the third time, because hey, three times the charm, right?

Then the door opens.

"Come in. And make it quick – I'm not in the mood to deal with this."

------------------------

The inside of the house mirrors the outside – it's dark, piles of boxes, books, newspapers and almost every other thing imaginable scattered and stacked up everywhere, dust coating every surface and empty bottles on the ground and in the corners.

It feels like a fire hasn't been lit in a thousand years, and the house smells like loneliness and alcohol and regret.

Looking at Anya's back as they follow her deeper into the house, Kaya feels an indescribable sadness well up within her.

"Don't start with the pity," Anya says as if she just read what Kaya was thinking – what they were all thinking, really. "I've already had enough of it to last my whole lifetime. What I want right now," she continues, sidestepping a bucket catching dripping water from a leak in the roof and taking a left into the kitchen, before gesturing at the dining table with its six chairs, "is for you to talk. So talk. Then I'll decide whether I'll help you."

And so they talk. In that kitchen with empty bottles piled up on the table and dirty dishes starting to grow moldy in the sink, they talk. About how they met, about their journey, about what they plan to do, the questions they have and the answers they need. Hesitant at first, filling in the gaps for each other and switching out when one of them can't continue anymore, until the words are flowing faster and faster and it's like it all just happened yesterday.

And before they know it, they're done, and a silence descends over the kitchen, heavier than they've ever known, seeming to physically weight them down like it's actively trying to suffocate them.

There is a long, long pause.

Anya opens her mouth.

"I can't help you."

Another pause. Yara is the first to speak in response. "What?"

"I said," Anya begins, standing up to grab another bottle from one of the shelves and uncorking it, "I can't help you." She takes a long swig, lets out a breath.

"Why?" Kaya asks, her voice shaky. "We're not asking much of you; we just need to know –"

"Because it's hopeless!" Anya snaps, slamming her bottle down on the table with such force that it shakes and they all flinch back. "It's hopeless and impossible and I can't help you because you can't do it."

"We won't know if we never try –" Allioni interjects, only to be cut off.

"Don't you think there are people who've tried before?" she says.

This time, Tam is the one to say it: "What?"

"This girl," Anya jabs a thumb in Kaya's direction, "do you know which wish she is? The hundredth. That's ninety-nine cycles. Ninety-nine pairs of wishes and their Guides who came before her. Ten thousand years. Ten thousand years, and you think no one's tried? Of course they have! In fact, she," she jerks a head in Yara's direction, "would know all about it. Isn't that right, Hwa Yara?"

Four pairs of eyes turn to her, and Yara shifts, sighing before seemingly hunching in on herself a little – the first time she's ever looked remotely uncomfortable. Softly, she says, "I never told you my full family history, did I?" And then, she begins to explain: "Five Orbits. That's five houses, five clans. Hwa, Shi, Yu, Feng, Shu. We rotate through the Orbits for Guides, so – five cycles ago. Five cycles ago, the Hwa Orbit's Guide at the time attempted to break the wish. That wasn't the first time people have tried, of course – previous Stars have as well. But those were always the Stars who were wishes and who found out about their fate. He was the first Guide to attempt to do so. He failed, of course, but fail or not – it reflected badly on the Hwa Orbit. Very badly. We earned a lot of scorn, a lot of hate – there were even Orbits who advocated for the removal of ours. But despite all of that, traditions are traditions, and they must be kept, so when it came to this cycle, a Guide was chosen from our Orbit anyway."

"And that Guide was you," Tam says, and she nods.

"So, you see?" Anya says, taking a seat again. "People have tried before. Again and again. But they've never succeeded."

"... but have they ever done it together?" Chia asks suddenly. "It was always either the Star or the Guide, and they always did it alone. Have they ever done it together?"

"This isn't a fairytale, girl," she replies sharply. "Teamwork doesn't solve everything."

Chia lifts her eyes to meet Anya's, her gaze steady and calm. "That doesn't answer my question."

Silence.

Grudgingly, Anya admits: "No. But still, this isn't a story. You can't just win with the power of friendship –"

"– but it increases our chances, doesn't it?" Tam interrupts. "Five people working together are more likely to succeed than just one. And Chia's right – Stars and Guides have never worked together before. What if that's it? What if that's the requirement? Wishes lacked the information because of how their minds were wiped when they came here – and considering breaking the wish has to do with the Star and not the Guide, maybe that's what the Guide lacked. One side lacked the knowledge, and the other a possible key requirement. But working together..."

"– means they might succeed," Chia finishes.

"Well?" Tam asks, looking at Anya. "You can't disprove a theory before it's been tested, can you?"

Chia nods along. "First rule of science." She looks unusually proud of this statement (or possibly just the fact that she retained anything from school at all), adding some jazz hands to go along with it.

"Listen," Allioni butts in, "We aren't asking you to come with us, or to break the wish, or to put your life on the line for this. We aren't even asking for any help. All we need is for you to tell us what we need to know, and that's it. That's all we need, and then we'll leave, and we won't bother you again. So please." He locks eyes with her, firm and unyielding, and she holds his gaze for a moment before sighing again and taking another swig from the bottle.

"Fine," she bites out. "I'll tell you brats what you want to know. But that's it, you hear me?"

Yara nods. "Like Allioni said – that's all we need."

"Alright, then," Anya says, mumbles "I'm not drunk enough for this" and takes her third gulp from the bottle before slamming it back down on the table once again. "Gather round, kids. It's story time."