As the Head Man had said it would, the party began right after dinner. Townspeople carried sturdy wooden tables out to the village green and covered them with food. All the villagers who played instruments brought them out. Games for the smaller children and the older teenagers were set up. A huge stack of wood towered right in the middle of the green, and we lit it on fire at sunset, the blaze quickly shooting upward as if it wished to brush against the stars. All in all, it was beautiful.

It was also overwhelming. People, and people, and more people—all here to celebrate me and my friends—crowding around us, hugging us if they were family members and sometimes even if they weren't, asking us questions and toasting us and being loud, as people were often wont to do.

I could tell my friends tried to take the brunt of the questioning. Somehow, they were in tune with when I grew close to the breaking point, stepping in front of me casually enough that it looked like a coincidence if they intercepted someone who'd been headed my way, sometimes answering questions for me while I was trying to get a handle on my breath.

Mam came up to me with Aunt Marla after a few hours, with a slice of apple pie.

"You need to talk to more people!" she told me. "You look cold, and standoffish, the way you're avoiding people and questions."

"It's really overwhelming," I explained. "I... I'm tired."

"So? I'm tired all the time, and you don't see me avoiding my friends." Mam shook her head. "They're going to think you got all stuck up while you were gone. They're going to say you think you're too good for them."

Aunt Marla laid a hand on Mam's arm. "Let them say what they wish. We know the real Fyra, don't we? Isn't that enough?"

"I don't want you to embarrass me," Mam said, ignoring Aunt Marla's question. "If they think you're being rude on purpose, who do you think they will blame for raising such a willfully unkind child?"

"Tssk," said Aunt Marla. "They won't blame you. They have children of their own."

"And their own children have no trouble talking to people. Why should Fyra?" She turned to me. "I understand you're tired, but just push a little longer, all right? This whole celebration is for you. I'd appreciate it if you'd be more grateful for the effort everyone's put into it."

"I am grateful," I protested.

"Then show them that." She pulled me into her embrace and placed the slice of apple pie into my hands. "Sugar will help you stay lively."

She turned away, weaving through the crowd easily, unbothered by the people and the noise. I sighed.

"She means well." Aunt Marla smiled at me as I dug into the pie. "How do you like it?"

"It's good," I said. I meant it.

"Just good?" Her eyebrows shot upwards. "Well. I suppose I'll have to do better next time."

"I didn't mean it that way."

She laughed. "I know you didn't. I'm just teasing you."

"Ah."

I relaxed a bit, allowing my posture to ease and my back to straighten. As the night had worn on, I had curled over more and more, wishing I could simply disappear altogether—or at least become invisible enough that everyone would direct their questions to Bran and Lark and Reed.

"How are you doing?" Aunt Marla asked.

"Oh." I shrugged, trying to make the motion light-hearted but failing. "Well enough, I suppose."

"Fyra."

"Fine," I sighed. "You know how it is. Crowds. Noise. People. Questions. Not my forte."

"Do you want me to get you out?" A mischievous smile spread across her face. "I could use my back as an excuse—say I might be dying, and I want my favorite niece to take care of me."

I shook my head. "Firstly, I'm your only niece. Secondly, no one would believe you. They'd think you're being selfish."

"I'm all right with that. Who needs peoples' good opinions anyway?"

"Anyone who wants to have friends?"

"I have friends," she said. "I have you, and my neighbors, and Jinna from the other side of town."

"I don't count," I argued. "I'm your niece."

"Fine. That's still three friends."

"Three is not a lot."

She squinted at me suspiciously, with a slightly mocking air in her eyes. "I don't see you having more than three friends."

"Well... I've got you."

"I don't count, dear. I'm your aunt." She stole a glance at Bran over my shoulder. "Are they really all your friends? Even that Bran boy?" Her eyes met mine, and I saw a small measure of concern in them. "I thought he was the one who bullied you."

I looked down at my feet uncomfortably. "I wouldn't exactly say bullied. We didn't get along—sure—but now we've made up. We've been through a lot together. All of us."

"I'm sure you have." I finished my pie, and Aunt Marla held out a hand. "Can I take your plate?" Her eyes sparkled. "Do you want me to get you some more?"

I grinned tiredly. "Sure. Thank you."

"No problem. Anything for my favorite niece."

I rolled my eyes but didn't stop smiling.

Maybe half an hour after I'd finished the second slice of Aunt Marla's pie, the Head Man mounted a small dias in the middle of the green. He clapped his hand twice as a signal for silence and waited for the conversation to settle.

"Tonight, as you all know," he said, "we're here to celebrate the return of the children who went on a successful quest to save our town from the curse of the Magician. They have done a great service to us—their village—and I'm sure we are all very grateful.

"After the end of tonight's celebration, everything will go back to normal, but you will notice that—thanks to these brave children—the normal is different now. They've banished the evil magic that brought horrible storms and strange weather to our beautiful town. They've destroyed the terrible Blessed who cursed us to begin with. They've done far more than we ever hoped they would—and, finally, they've returned to us to be a part of our town. We're forever grateful to them, aren't we?"

The people seated at the tables shouted a chorus of acknowledgments. I felt an excited thrill run through me.

This was it. This was the end of our quest—the end of our journey—the part where we lived happily ever after, finally accepted by our town. Everything would be easy from now on. We would live our lives, and make new friends, and watch each other grow up and grow old.

"I talked it through with the children," continued the Head Man, "and we have all agreed that it would be better if they returned to normal life as the normal townspeople they were before. Their adventure is over. They have said that they would prefer not to be treated with any partiality."

Lark and Bran and Reed and I were all sitting together, around a special round table, and now Bran whispered, "I don't remember having that conversation, funnily enough."

"He thought it would make them more likely to accept us," said Reed. "He didn't want them to think we'd gotten stuck-up while we were gone. This is a good way to disprove that."

"Hmm," said Bran. He didn't seem convinced.

Lark shrugged. "Either way, it'll make us even more popular than we would be otherwise. Now we're heroes, children, Blesseds, and selfless people."

"I don't know." Bran glanced at the Head Man, who was now detailing new market rules that would be implemented now that the magic storms were over. "Did anyone else notice that he didn't mention our being Blessed once?"

Reed nodded. "That was part of what he called me back to talk about. He did a pretty good job skirting around it in that speech."

"Why?" Lark asked. "Why wouldn't he want to draw on our being Blessed?"

"Because it makes us scary," Reed said earnestly. "The Magician was Blessed, and he's the one who started all this. If my father was to call attention to the fact that we're Blessed too... people might start thinking of us differently. He wants to avoid that."

I frowned. "So we're supposed to just ignore the fact that we have powers? What happened to everyone accepting us when we got back?"

"That was always what you said, Fyra." Reed sighed. "I don't think we'll be able to just get rid of the fear—not after all the years during which Blesseds were people to be afraid of."

"He's right," Bran agreed. "It's too complicated to fix with one good act."

"Even so." I shook my head and fiddled with my fork. "I wish people would be more open-minded. We did save them."

"And they're grateful to us for that," Reed said. "They probably just don't know what to do with us now that we're back, with our magic and all the problems that might bring."

"I don't like it," I grumbled.

"Sadly, you don't have to. It'll happen either way."

There was a short silence, and we turned back to the Head Man as he finished his speech.

"This town's dark times are over. Tomorrow, we begin anew. Tomorrow, we bring back to this town the safety and peace and quiet it had before magic—before the Magician. Tomorrow, the world is right."

Aunt Marla is awesome, isn't she? Vote if you love her, or if you'd like a slice of her homemade apple pie.