Maya walked home, hugging herself against the night air of early Autumn. She tried to repress a sniffle, but it was no use.

  She just couldn’t shake what had happened at Fey’s apartment.

  She had thought to turn back—to apologise or do something so things wouldn’t break apart. But after seeing the way Fey looked at her, how she dismissed Maya without a second thought…

  It was better to stay away.

  For now.

  Maya checked her phone.

  It was getting te, and she had csses the next day. There was still too much left to do—assignments, studying, and chores at home.

  And then there was Val.

  Maya sighed. They hadn’t spent much time together tely. Conflicting schedules had kept them apart, making it hard to see either of them in the evening or morning. She knew it wasn’t either of their faults, but it hurt all the same.

  Lifting her head, the streetlights above flickered, casting a dull, unstable glow that barely cut through the night. A long breath escaped her; she was exhausted.

  And she needed someone to talk to. Desperately.

  At a nearby bus stop, Maya sat down. The only working light there was the gss poster about a newly opened counselling centre. She pulled out her phone, and dialed the only number she knew by heart. Someone she could always talk to.

  “Ryan Reynolds here, what can I do you for?”

  Maya let out a throaty ugh. Her fingers brushed away a tear. “You wish you were that hot of a Canadian.”

  “We can’t all be so lucky to have one waiting at home.”

  Maya snorted. “I shouldn’t have told you that part about Val.” Maya could practically hear Austin grinning on the other end. “You got a minute?”

  “Talk to me. Do you still having money problems?”

  “No, that’s… covered. More or less.” Maya mumbled into the phone, feeling the words drag on the tip of her tongue. “It’s something else.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I hope not,” she muttered, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. “It’s not about Val. It’s… another friend.”

  A pause. Austin contempted saying something, but chose not to.

  Maya mumbled, “I sorta…”

  “Sorry, didn’t hear you through your mumbling.”

  She fidgeted. “I sorta…”

  “Speak up, Maya. I know you have a yelling voice.”

  “I blew up her living room.”

  More silence. Almost stretching.

  “Speak up, Maya. I know you have a yelling voice,” Austin repeated, ftly.

  “I am not joking, Austin!” Maya groaned into the phone. “I messed up, big time.”

  “How do you manage to blow up someone’s living room?” he asked, more astonished than anything. “Did you leave the gas stove on—again?”

  “No—not after st time!” Maya shot back, shifting uncomfortably. “Fey’s a witch. I asked her to teach me magic.”

  Another pause. The phone crackled with interference.

  “Oh, Maya…” Austin’s voice changed from worry to serious and back. “Seier is incredibly dangerous. Are you unharmed?”

  “I’m fine, but Fey is definitely mad at me.”

  Austin sighed. “Magic is dangerous business. Your friend knows that, she should know that. It will pass.”

  “I don't know, Austin.” Maya chewed on her manicured thumbnail. “She was unbelievably mad. And besides, I don’t think she’s doing well tely.”

  “How?”

  “It’s…” Maya hesitated.

  Fey’s hatred for giants flickered to mind and the pain they had caused her. It wasn’t something Maya should share freely.

  But it conflicted with her friendship with Austin—a giant.

  But she needed someone to confide with while Val was indisposed.

  So she told him. Everything she knew.

  How Fey had once been a gymnast, how a giant crushed her leg on her way home, and how it had ineradicably changed her life.

  Maya put her phone down beside her, rubbing her face in her hands. She did it now. She told Austin everything, betraying Fey’s trust.

  The line was silent for far too long until.

  “...I see…”

  Austin’s voice was quiet, conflicted.

  Maya buried her face deeper into her hands. The guilt pressed into her ribs.

  “I feel like she’s spiralling, Austin. And I don’t know what to do.”

  “You can’t do anything,” he said softly. Maya’s stomach sank, but then he continued, “At least, not today. Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  She swallowed hard, swallowing her sobs. “You’re right… you’re right.” She wiped her eyes, and took a minute to compose herself. “Thank you for listening, Austin,” she murmured. “I missed having someone like you in my life.”

  Austin gave a pained smile. He remembered how he had once once hurt, and she had forgiven him ter. She was strong, but even she needed someone to listen.

  “Go see your girlfriend, Maya,” he said gently. “We’ll talk when you feel better.”

  “Thank you, Austin. See you.”

  Maya ended the call and let out another dragged sigh. She stared up at the night sky, thinking once again what she should do.

  Maya reached her apartment not long after. The stairs were long and winding as always as she climbed them. Especially in the pitch of darkness as she refused to switch on the hallway lights.

  The door home didn’t unlock immediately. Using her shoulder for extra leverage, the lock finally opened and she stepped inside.

  Darkness met her. No one was home. Her finger clicked at the switch and was blinded by her hallway mirror reflecting the light.

  Her tired face gazed back at her, and realised she was still in her witch outfit. Maya stared. She couldn’t believe she walked home like that.

  The dress was a disaster—dusty, wrinkled, streaked with ash. Her afro swayed to the side, and was covered with soot. The makeup ran down her face, making her look like a witch who had just lost her husband and was ready to enact vengeance on the vilgers.

  Her shoulders sacked.

  “Val, are you there?” she called, but no answer came.

  She flicked on another light in the kitchen. Dinner was on the table, wrapped neatly in pstic foil. Beside it, she found a note.

  “I’ll be back te. Enjoy dinner. See you tomorrow, dúln mín.??”

  Maya smiled at the message—especially at the little heart Val drew. Lifting the note up to her lips, she kissed it.

  See you tomorrow, Val.

  Her gaze drifted to a small portrait hanging in her kitchen. Inside was a green letter—the very first one she and Fey had ever exchanged.

  The box of old letters, which Fey kept at her pce, came to mind. She kept them all, and Maya decided to frame hers as a memento.

  Her fingers brushed over the edge of the frame. Her jaw tightened, and she bit the inside of her lip. Determination fshed in her eyes

  “See you tomorrow, Fey.”

  —ˋ???ˊ—“Fey, are you there?”

  Maya knocked on the door of Fey’s apartment. It was the next day, and she hoped Fey had cooled down by now. Which was impossible to tell with her.

  Calling or messaging her took forever.

  Her phone was a brick—almost literally. She kept an old Nokia in her cabinet, and Maya was pretty confident it had survived the bst.

  Not that it mattered. Fey disliked phones.

  She ft out refused using emails or messenger apps, insisting they were too impersonal. If you wanted to talk to her, you either wrote her a letter all the way to Sweden, or you showed up at her door like a child who wanted to visit a friend before technology made everything too convenient.

  So, unless Maya wanted to barge in like a lunatic or wait for a week for a reply, she didn’t have many options.

  Maya knocked again. Still no answer. Not even from the Draugr.

  Maya retrieved her spare key and took a moment to calm herself.

  “I’m coming in,” she called out, and invited herself in. “I implore my guest rights.”

  It was a thing she had learned from Fey, ensuring one’s safety at someone’s home. However, it only worked when the homeowner agreed to it as well.

  The living room remained in shambles, but was noticeably cleaner than yesterday.

  At a corner, a lone Draugr was sweeping the floor with a broken broom, rolling on a makeshift cart. It was missing its legs.

  Maya approached carefully.

  She wondered which Draugr it was. The small Halfdan with part of his brain sticking out? Carl with his trusty iron helmet? Or Leif with his fabulous moustache?

  When it lifted its decaying head, staring at her with a lost and vacant expression, she felt a pang in her heart.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, patting its skull.

  It let out a low, drawn-out groan—either confused or appreciative.

  Maya sighed, watching it roll away to continue its menial tasks.

  She focused on hers as well, bracing herself right before Fey’s bedroom.

  The door was missing. Missy y curled up on the unmade bed, looking bored or worried over the room. When she spotted Maya, she perked up, jittering excitedly.

  “Hey, Missy.” Maya leaned down, giving the ferret a soft nuzzle and stroked her fur. “Where’s your dy?”

  Missy flicked her nose toward the open balcony door. Maya followed her gaze and spotted Fey’s silhouette outside.

  Slipping onto the balcony, Maya found her. She sat lounged on a rickety stool, hunched over, doing the nails on her good foot—always the good foot.

  Her crutch leaned against the railing. She was still in her pyjamas—a wrinkled white tank top and red pyjama pants covered in watermelon prints.

  Maya huffed a ugh despite herself. You and Val’s weird tastes for pyjamas.

  But Fey… she looked awful.

  Frizzy, unkempt brown curls framed a face that was too pale, with eyebags deep as bruises. The air reeked. A penetrant smell of tobacco permeated from the ashtray beside her.

  Maya wrinkled her nose, pinching it shut with her fingers. “Fey, have you showered?”

  Fey took a drag, slowly exhaling into the air.

  “Fey,” Maya folded her arm, still pinching her nose with the other. “You stink.”

  “I took one on Tuesday.”

  “It’s Thursday.”

  “...” Fey curled forward, hugging her knee. “I hate Thursdays.”

  Her voice barely came out as nothing but a whisper. She buried her face in her arms, letting her bangs hide the worst of her expression.

  Maya sighed, not knowing what she should do. Her hand reached out for Fey—she couldn’t leave her like this. “Fey,” she gently touched her shoulder, “let’s get you into some fresh—”

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Her hand shed out before she could stop it. Her sharp nails sliced across Maya’s skin. Maya jerked back. A thin line of blood welled up on her hand.

  Fey stumbled off the stool, head smacking against the railing. A sharp grunt escaped her, then she whipped around. With clenched teeth, her eyes fshed dangerously.

  “I told you to leave!”

  Maya calmly held her bleeding hand to her lips. She didn’t flinch, nor did she step back.

  “Fey, are you alright?” she asked, stunning Fey on the question. “I came to check on you—”

  “I said leave!” Fey’s hand shot forward. Green fire ignited at her fingertips, crackling like a wild fme. “Kenaz!”