A kiss graced his cheek, sweet and gentle though fleeting. “Good Morning, Al,” a husky voice yawned out.

Alvalar’s heart stirred into a warm buzz like that of a busy honeybee. He turned away from the sketch that he’s been working since the sun had risen and followed his betrothed as he ambled toward the coffee maker with his eyes. Despite looking as though he had just risen out of bed in his knickers with only a vague sense of tiredness, Alvalar knew that Karollus would’ve greatly enjoyed another hour or two of sleep. He wasn’t a morning person.

Inheriting his father’s high-born Athesanian looks of the famed Rudas clan and coupled with an stocky build that continues to get put to use in his parents’ bakery, Karollus looked like he could’ve once been a warrior-king in a former life with his toned ebony body and the fighting skills to prove it. His teal eyes were as gorgeous as the year-old Kéké tattoo that cascaded down his back, illustrating Nakoi with deer antlers and sapphire-blue scales as she protectively coiled her massive draconic body around his betrothed the same way she protected those human children of hers hundreds of lifetimes ago.

wheek…

Karollus rummaged through the cupboard and after he grabbed his favorite Guardian Beast mug depicting a battalion of Giant Fire Ants crawling down the trunks of trees, and poured in a sea of still warm coffee, he let out a gentle sigh. Sleepy-eyed, Karollus held the earthenware vessel snuggly between his hands, hoping that the coffee’s warmth can keep him awake. How cute, Alvalar thought with a giggle. Watching his betrothed shuffle his feet against the ground, listening to the way the engagement earrings that clung onto Karollus’s ear sang its symphony of festive jingles that accompanied the gentle shakes of his Ul’dalir beads, Alvalar couldn’t help but breathe a gentle sigh as well. He didn’t want this moment to end. It was too perfect. He would give anything to keep it like this...

Wheek...

With the brightest of smiles he could muster, Alvalar scooted out of his seat and met his fiancé halfway, pecking his cheek as he was too preoccupied enjoying his drink. “G’morning, mi amor,” he replied cheerily.

Karollus finished drinking a gulp of this morning’s brew and reciprocated the smile. First, he slid a thick lock of braided hair behind his ear then reached for Alvalar’s right engagement earring, twirling its chain around his finger playfully. “My, aren’t you full of energy this morning.” He pressed his lips against Alvalar’s; his lips were bitter from the coffee-

WHEEK!

Alvalar groaned at Misu’s highest pitched wheek yet and pressed a pillow against his ear with hopes to block them out. If it were only that easy… No matter what he did to ignore them, it was futile. They just continually came back, each one louder than the one that preceded it like she saw the entire thing as a challenge. Now undisputedly awake, he found himself crestfallen to find that it was all a dream, but also irritated that her squeals just had to disrupt it. Couldn’t he just have this? Is that so hard? His chest suddenly felt heavy and that was the final straw; either get up like she wanted or be smothered on his eighteenth birthday.

Seething with anger to the point of having tendrils of steam erupt from his palms, Alvalar kicked off his cover and was about to go on a scolding tirade when he looked at his caliber’s enormous leonine visage, into those big green eyes of hers, and all the irritation steam that was just brewing a second ago had simply vanished into thin air. He tried to muster his anger once more; Misu needed to be disciplined, but that disappeared too.

This was all a part of Misu’s plan, he told himself. She was just too cute to get mad at, and she knows it. Exhaling a suspire of tiredness, he began to run his fat fingers across his calibress’ luscious chocolate coat. “You won this round, Misu. But you shouldn’t be using your size-shifting powers like that, okay? You could’ve killed me. You know this. You aren’t a cub anymore.”

Misu didn’t even seem to be listening. She was treating his words like they were nothing but background noise as she sung a melody of low rumbling noises from the depths of her throat while she rolled her body from side to side. The noises were like that of a car engine off in the distance, steady and full of content.

Alvalar pinched his fingertips against the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Who taught you to act this way, huh?” He crossed his arms angrily.

As though to answer the question for him, Misu stopped her humming and rolling, stared at him and let out a grunt.

“I know. Don’t remind me,” he answered back with slight irritation. “Just… Just don’t do it next time, okay?”

His caliber took a longer time to respond, like she was contemplating whether she was going to actually listen to his plea. After what felt like a century, Misu finally rose and ran her massive sand-paper tongue across her owner’s face. Alvalar laughed and when he was done wiping off her slobber, he opened his eyes and saw that she shrunk down into her false form; about the size of a male hare and as sleek and agile as a cat, Misu leaped onto her owner’s shoulder and clung onto his shirt with the help of her claws. She even wrapped her tail around his neck for good measure. She hasn’t done that since she was a cub… Feeling a wave of nostalgic, Alvalar patted her side and began to stretch out his own sore muscles as best as he could, especially the ones in his right hand. The sorer it is, the harder it is to draw up concept designs for his father’s clients.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew in and the clatter of paper echoed throughout his room. When he turned, Alvalar’s eyes widened in pure horror. His window was open wide and the pieces of concept art that he had just finished this morning, sitting underneath a stack of books, were just blowing in the wind as though they were trying to wiggle themselves free. The concept sketches might’ve held down by five of the most sturdiest Mugiwara volumes he had in his collection, but that wasn’t enough. He spent all morning to get them just right, but most importantly, they had Misu’s approval licks, assuring him that the designs had great promise. Those licks were what gave him confidence and quelled his self-doubt; he was not going to be taking any chances.

Sliding his Idro and Ezra beads onto his wrist after kissing them, Alvalar rushed out of his bed and secured the sketches. With the designs now in his grasp, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Idro and Ezra, he thought. Out from the corner of his eye, he noticed Misu’s short, rounded ears focus in on the open window curiously. Her speckled nose wiggled some, taking in the aroma of something she found not only juicy, but also of high-quality.

“What is it, mi nina?” he asked his calibress.

Silently, Misu jumped onto the windowsill and peered out. Alvalar followed her line of sight, albeit a little puzzled. Situated on a field of sun-burned grass and a great distance behind his house sat a heavy cluster of stalls, huddling near the local Zahrah jungle that bordered his rural Navasarian town of Esperanza, and an overwhelming amount of people were stalking its grounds - families, business owners from the other side of town, even old classmates and teachers that Alvalar had once seen on a regular basis had all seemed to be enjoying themselves as they took in the sights, smells, tastes and sounds of everything that were on offer with much glee. Their excitement suited the constantly hot, summer-like climate that made the Kingdom of Navasar famous as a popular tourist spot, especially in the middle of winter like it is now.

As Alvalar watched the merriment of others, he quickly found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Karollus. No doubt he’ll would be out there, helping his family’s business… Letting out a sigh and running his fingers through his hair, feeling his long tight curls against the shaved down sides of his undercut didn’t stop his heart from aching, but the sudden realization that today was the Coronation Day for the next Navasarian Weapon Wielder, his Tio Alejandro’s successor and reincarnation, did make the pain lighten slightly as he scurried about his room, preoccupying himself.

Misu hopped down from her perch atop the windowsill and watched as her owner traded his sweats for more proper clothes while cursing himself for being so absent-minded. How could he have forgotten? Today was the day that his father was constantly reminding him of and yet he still had forgotten? Considering the fact that the Weapon Wielders could easily outlast any regular human, this is once and a life-time event! When his Tio Alejandro was announced to be the 74th Weapon Wielder of Navasar on Coronation Day and given Inferno, the sword that every other Navasarian Weapon Wielder before him wielded and could amplify their already innate fire-manipulating abilities, people still doubted him, saying that he was a thief or an imposter all because he was born a Navi. “You were born a slave and you’ll die as one, but you won’t live as the Weapon Wielder of Navasar,” they said, but Alejandro didn’t listen. He was ambitious and confident and as stubborn as a mule, but that only made Alvalar admire his uncle even more. He was the man that abolished the slavery of all Navi throughout the four realms with the help of the other three Weapon Wielders and his little brother Smoke, Alvalar’s father-figure.

Whoever ends up being recognized as Tio’s successor tonight, Alvalar thought, I only asked that they don’t taint his great legacy.

After buttoning up the fireball-like golden studs of his work jerkin, red with a black striped trim, over an amber long-sleeved shirt, and adjusting his brown breeches for a final time, Alvalar finally threw on his cloak. Now all he needed was his boots. He took a seat at the edge of his bed and carefully folded up the sketches before stashing them in his pocket. “Misu,” he whistled. “Bring me my boots. The one that Papi brought me a couple of years back– si, eso. Venga aqui, mi ninita.” Having shifted back into her true form, Misu held the pair of boots with the help of her massive teeth and brought them over to him. “Muy bien.”

Hearing words of praise, Misu dropped them at his feet and was waiting for a pat with much excitement. Alvalar reached for his furred boots that his father brought back from a business trip to the Northern Kingdom of Athesan but he was nearly swatted at by Misu’s hand-sized paw and razor-sharp claws. Pat first then boots, Misu seemed to order as she hissed at him, ears back.

Alvalar relented and gave the pat that his caliberess so adamantly demanded for, to which Misu promptly let out a content-filled roar then sprawled her body out on the floor, beginning to lick at her paws and stomach. Now that the beast was quelled, Alvalar grabbed the boots and began to ease up the laces. Right after he had just finished sliding in his right foot, his door let out a sudden thump.

Misu stopped her licking and growled cautiously at the noise while Alvalar jumped. The door slowly creaked open and revealed his mother, Mérida, dressed in her usual long, deep red dress. Her Eridesi beads, the Patron Ancestor to Parents and Family that provided his mother with advice whenever she was in need of it, were a band of pink and white that bound themselves snuggly round her wrist while her fingers were bejeweled with levitación rings; the filled clothing hamper, radiating the same green glow as her rings, hovered above the ground beside her.

Alvalar had his mother’s smile and her tight brown curls, but aside from that, he barely resembled her in the slightest. He was lighter-skinned in comparison and his large, upturned eyes were of chestnut – traits that he possibly inherited from his bastard of a biological father. Any man that abandons their partner at the revelation of pregnancy is worse than trash, and his biological father was no better. Thankfully, he had Smoke in his life, however Alvalar would’ve much preferred to have his mother’s complexion as well as her spindly frame, that way people wouldn’t have given his mother a hard time when he was younger and he wouldn’t have to deal being heavyset anymore; everyone told him that he is skinny now, that he looked good and was handsomer, but they were nothing more than lies...

Having descended from Athesanians who settled in Navasar long ago when it was once a colony of the Athesanian Empire and having married the local Navasarian men and women over many generations, Mérida sported sienna-brown complexion and almond-shaped blue eyes that always had the sense of knowing all things, but they didn’t sparkle like beautiful sapphires against the noon sun like they usually did. Behind her thickly rimmed spectacles, they seemed to only flare with anger instead. “¡Álvalar Ignacio Leal, yo siempre te estoy diciendo que limpies tu cuarto, pero siempre lo dejas regado!” Gesturing the hamper to float toward his bed in one hand, she picked up two mismatched socks with the other and waved them about, displaying “the mess” she so firmly hated.

He wasn’t ready for this storm of complaining. Not today. With the quick smack of his lips, Alvalar growled, “Coño, tú eres pesa. Muy dramática. Callate.”

Almost as though she was able to smell the sudden shift in tension, Misu rose and quickly rubbed her enormous body against Mérida and then Alvalar. Her soft fur tickled his arm as it went back and forth, trying to ease the foulness, but her owner didn’t budge and neither did his mother.

Mérida’s eyes narrowed, and her voice went even higher. “¿Que que?” With her head and palm raised slightly, she took a step closer. “¿Hay algo que tú quieres decir? ¡Dale, dimelo! Si eres hombre, dimelo, pero, que no te sorprenda si te doy un cocotazo!”

Hearing his mother’s words, Alvalar suddenly regretted voicing his thoughts and cursed himself for being such an idiot as his arms quickly flail about. “¡N-no!” he exclaimed, stuttering. “Nada. Ay, Nada. P-perdóname, mamá.”

Glaring into her son’s eyes for a moment or two, Mérida eventually huffed out a grunt and trailed over to his bed without another word. Her fingers fluttered like a bird’s wings, leaving the hamper to fall and make a simple bounce onto his mattress. Alvalar exhaled a sigh of relief as he heard her begin to organize his clothes. Crisis adverted, he thought and slid his left foot into the other boot.

He leaned over and began to tie his laces, gripping the latchet tightly. By the time he was done and began to work on the other boot, his mother raised her voice once again; this time, it was much her usual calmer and gentler tone. Her temper always fizzled out quite quickly, almost like she felt guilty for getting mad. “So, how was your nap? Was it good?”

Alvalar didn’t answer. His grip around the boot’s laces tighten once more.

“Was it about Karollus again?”

His gaze lowered and felt his grip on his laces weaken. Alvalar knew it was futile lying to her. She always saw right through him, so he relented instead and gave a nod. His hands suddenly felt weak and the bootlace fell onto the floor while he hung his head. “It’s hard, mamá,” he sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m still in love with him. Every time I think of him, my heart hurts. Heck, every time I try to get over him and preoccupy myself with something else, it still hurts.”

The bed suddenly creaked and the rough bristles of a brush started to run its little fingers from his scalp all the way down to his split ends. Ever since he was a kid, his mother would start to do his hair whenever he was stressed, saying that he’ll feel better in the end due to it being a calming, bonding moment. It might be weird and out of the blue, but it was indeed a soothing and relaxing experience. “I know, hijo,” she said, collecting his tight curls as much as she could and continued to comb her son’s hair in layers. “I know getting over someone is hard. You two have been together for four years, so it’s going to take longer than half a season, but maybe this break up is only temporary. Maybe you’ll get back together once you see him today and you two talk it out!”

“That’s just what you want,” he grumbled.

“But isn’t it what you want too?” she quickly replied. Her tone was playful and somewhat cheeky.

Not expecting his mother’s response, Alvalar’s face suddenly felt hot and he smiled despite himself. He tried to produce an answer, any answer, whether it went against his real feelings or not, but right when he felt like they were on the tip of his tongue, his ability to speak suddenly disappeared, reducing him to having his mouth open and surely looking like a fool. He hated when this happened. He rammed his boot onto the floor and slammed a steaming fist on the mattress, the only other way he could voice his frustration about this humiliating situation.

Eventually arranging her son’s hair into a tight top-knot, Mérida climbed over the mattress and sat beside Alvalar. With his mother leaning his head against her bosom and rubbing his shoulder, Misu walked over and placed her heavy head in his lap. She looked concerned, or was she laughing at him? Alvalar wasn’t sure.

“It’s okay,” Mérida whispered into her son’s ear. “Relax. Take a deep breath and clear your head. It’s okay. I won’t leave.”

Alvalar wanted to shout at her. Of course, he knew what he wanted to say. His words didn’t escape him. They didn’t leave his mind either. They were right there on the tip of his tongue, right within reach, but not being able to vocalize them made him feel all the more frustrated. It was like he was blocked from assessing those words even though they were his own. He must’ve looked foolish with his mouth hanging open accompanied with a frozen expression. Despite vigorously patting his thigh to hurry himself to speak, the words still didn’t come and the memory of the bullying he endured began to resurface.

“What’s wrong, mute? If you want your comic book back, then just say so,” Jorge would snicker out, holding up Alvalar’s Mugiwara volume high in the air, while Alvalar would be in the middle of his speech block. He stood there, mouth open with a frozen expression. His mind was yelling him to speak and to be quick with it, but his lips just stood there as ridged as a corpse.

“Oh, you can’t? Well, then I guess it belongs to us now,” Alexi added, pulling and yanking Alvalar’s hair, and a whole flurry of laughter would ignite. The twins Levy and Biembe wandered over to Alvalar’s maleta and dumped everything that was inside. Paper flew as freely as a bird while books crashed to the floor.

“These too,” Levy continued, picking up the design book that housed the weapons and other metal work that Smoke’s clients wanted. Biembe took the book from his twin brother and roughly turned the pages. He peered at pages as though mildly impressed, but suddenly, without any sort of warning, began to tear up the pages that Alvalar worked so hard on.

“And this too.” Biembe continued to tear out pages while Levy turned them into flakes that he threw up into the air and had them fall like snow. “If only you could speak, mute.”

Tears began to swell. Alvalar had enough of this; if he couldn’t speak then he just had to act. He pushed Alexi’s hand away and gave him a headbutt. Alvalar’s head ached but not as much as Alexi’s; he was holding his head, groaning in pain. The other two, the twins Levy and Biembe, were so surprised that they were frozen stiff, dropping the book. Taking advantage of this moment, Alvalar rushed past them and toward Jorge, getting ready to throw a punch, putting all of his weight into it as possible, but his punch didn’t connect. Jeorge was just so fast that he simply cocked his head to the side, missing the punch entirely and returned with a punch of his own. It was so fast that Alvalar couldn’t even see it, let alone dodge it; he fell to the floor and found that a stream of blood rushing down his nose. It stung and ached, but by the time he wiped away the scarlet stream and got back on his feet, the pain simply vanished and the blood had hardened.

Alvalar shifted, emulating the way Karollus would keep his legs bent with his fists close to his body whenever he got into fights, but it felt strange. He wasn’t used to this. He had never been in a fight before, something that Jorge could sense very well and threw the Mugiwara volume in the trash can. The four men began to close in like they were a pack of snake-wolves readying their forces to ambush an adult ground sloth. It was hard to keep an eye on them. First, they were here and then they were there and now they are over ther–

Suddenly, a strong kick resonated at Alvalar’s side. Before he could even turn, he received another swift punch to the face, pushing him down once again. The pummeling to his face was relentless. They came like pounding rain, one after another, but then it stopped suddenly. Thankful, Alvalar was finally able to catch his breath and slowly turned his head. His vision was out of focus, however, when it cleared up, Alvalar saw Karollus had arrive and was delivering justice. He was sweaty and his Academy doublet was messy by the time he was done, but Karollus didn’t care; he helped Alvalar up and gave him a kiss. Everything ached, yet with Karollus’s strong arms wrapped around him, he never felt safer.

Remembering those days, as well as the days when the pair would go on dates to the book store on the other side of town, pouring over the beautifully illustrated Guardian Beast cards and Mugiwara comics; the times Karollus would encourage him and give him confidence whenever Alvalar was feeling low; or the fun times they had battling one another in the living room while mamá was preparing an old Leal family recipe that dated back to their distant Kéké ancestors, Karollus would slam either The Bombs of the Phoenix or The Thunderous roar of the Lion-Hawk down and Alvalar would be nervously shuffling his cards, searching for The Hungry Zahrah or The Impregnable World Turtle Shell to control the effects and maintain his army, all left Alvalar teary-eyed. He just wanted those days to come back, to return to the way things used to be.

Misu suddenly began to lick away her owner’s tears one by one like they were raindrops rolling down the windowsill. When she was done, he looked at her once more and she, indeed, wasn’t patronizing him. She gently licked his nose. Mérida let go of her hold on her son and Misu immediately rested her chin onto his shoulder. She even began to sing a symphony of softly-tuned wheeks into his ear. Unlike before, he didn’t find them annoying. They were comforting, and it didn’t take long before Alvalar found himself smiling again. When he wrapped his arms around his calibress’ neck and held her close, Misu was just overjoyed; her long, slender tail wouldn’t stop wagging!

When he was done giving her a hug, Alvalar scratched his caliber’s cheek and began to pat the mattress, using the rhythm to help him produce speech once again. “O-o-of course,” he stammered. He hated it when he stammered as well, but he wasn’t going to complain now. “I want to get back t-t-t-together with him, but…” he stopped on purpose, not wanting to voice the thought that was wiggling in his head.

" 'But you aren’t so sure that Karollus wants to, so you don’t want to put your hopes up’. Is that it?” Mérida voiced his thought out loud.

Hearing his mother say it, however, eased the pain slightly. It was cathartic even. “You hit it right on the head.”

Mérida let out a deep sigh. “That’s how it is in the beginning. All those feelings of uncertainty, regret and pining circling around— everyone experiences that. It’s normal. Getting over someone isn’t as easy as many people like to think, especially when you’ve been with someone for as long as you’ve been with Karollus… but like I said, you never know. Maybe he regrets it and he want to get back together too but just doesn’t know how to say it.”

Alvalar turned to his mother. “Don’t you think your being overly optimistic?”

“Don’t you think your being overly pessimistic?” she quipped back with her hands on her hips.

Alvalar let out a chuckle and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “That’s how I always am, if you haven’t noticed.”

Mérida smiled. “I’m very well aware of that.” She laughed and tapped his nose. “Pessimistic and low self-esteem, that’s you, but don’t worry. You won’t be like that forever, Alvalar. One day, you’ll be as confident as a lion, you’ll see.”

Alvalar snickered. That lion must be as small as ant then, he thought, but he didn’t voice it. If he did, she’ll just start complaining again; “Stop putting yourself down,” she will say. “Your capable of so much more.” They were beyond annoying. Whatever she saw in him, he didn’t and always ascribed those words to that fact that she was his mother. Despite her words being utterly biased, that didn’t mean all of them were. Some were wise, giving him some rays of hope and for that, he was grateful. “Thank you, mamá,” he told her.

Mérida cupped her son’s face and looked him in the eyes. Her blue eyes moved from side to side like they always did, looking as though they were reading him like a book. Knowing his mother, she probably was, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. His book was probably boring anyway. “Por nada, mi niño,” she replied softly with a smile. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you earlier.”

Looking at the way she forgave him just like that with such a caring expression on her face made Alvalar feel like a horrible son. He shook his head in disagreement and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “No. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I… just woke up with Misu trying to smother me, so I wasn’t in the greatest of moods. I’m sorry too, for talking back and being disrespectful. You don’t deserve that.” He gave his mother a kiss.

Mérida kissed her son too. “No matter what, Alvalar, I’ll always forgive you.” She then patted his side and gestured toward the door. “Go on. Your going to be late.”

“I know. I should be getting a move on. Coronation Day is bound to make everyone busy.” Alvalar turned to his caliber. “You ready, Misu?” he called, patting his thighs all excitedly. “You ready, girl? You ready?”

Misu chirped happily as a bird and ran towards the door. Alvalar laughed and ran after her. He heard his mother yell at them from upstairs, warning them that they’ll fall down the stairs if they go too fast. She can get too overprotective at times.

Misu was the first one to reach the kitchen and she immediately ran to her water bowl, lapping up the iced water, not caring how the water spilled over and made a mess. Alvalar hurriedly began to clean up the mess, knowing that his mother would complain again if he didn’t, and took in the intoxicatingly delicious smell of the ajiaco that was brewing in the large calor-piedra pot on the floor while large earthenware jars filled with grains of rice, seasonings, fermented vegetables and beans lined the walls. The beef, the chicken, even the little cuts of carrots and corn and yucca boiling away, getting coated in that light bone-flavored broth… Oh, how he wanted to eat it all, but he mustn’t. He must have self-control it!

And so, with a great breath, Alvalar made his way to the calor-piedra pot where he laid the now damp cloth nearby to dry, but the journey was more like hell than he would like to admit. As he made his way over, he continually found his eyes being pulled over to the incandescent red fragments that endowed the pot, allowing it to provide heat all on its own, and could hear the bubbling stew begin to call out to him, trying to seduce him into taking a sip. Just a little sip, they whispered. Come on, a little sip wouldn’t hurt, now would it? You know you want to, so relax, take a sip or even better, fill a bowl with yucca, chicken, beef, carrots, a small cob of corn and have them all swimming in an ocean of broth! Each second seemed longer and more torturous than the last but he must endure it unless he wanted to purge the contents of his stomach for the third time today. Wait… was it the third time? Or was it the fifth? Now he wasn’t sure anymore.

However, once he noticed Ezra’s effigy and the aquamanile of Wuotan, Ezra’s one-eyed snake-wolf companion and beloved mentor, on an isolated lot in the corner, Alvalar could feel his anxiety and the tempting voices leave him for a short while. He knew that they’ll surely come back but right now, they were gone and that was truly liberating.

Despite being one of the Patron Ancestors, tutelary deities of the Navasarian people, Ezra’s effigy was rather plain, or that’s what Alvalar recalled people saying as they criticized her appearance, calling for the clay statue of a woman with her arms out, revealing the cuts of deep red garnet that decorated her palms, to be more glamorous, but anything more than this would get him on her bad side. Ezra hated vanity above all else.

Taking a seat in front of the holy pair, Alvalar picked up the aquamanile that was carved in Wuotan’s likeness, each strand of fur carefully created one stroke after another, covering his large body in its velvety embrace, except for his elegant snake tail, and began to pour the water that laid inside over Ezra’s statue.

Scriptures say that Ezra and Wuotan got separated during an unusually horrid rainstorm that brought about disastrous landslides but that didn’t stop them searching for one another. Nights were spent calling out the other’s name while the days would be spent asking around; Wuotan would ask any animals he came across and Ezra would ask any nearby villagers while she was out collecting medicinal herbs for patients. Unfortunately, they never reunited, but once Alvalar set Wuotan down beside his most studious pupil, it was as though the pair finally found each other again.

While the water was still streaming down the effigy like rain slowly tumbling down a windowsill, Alvalar began to pray for good health. With Ezra’s garnet-colored beads wrapped around his wrist, serving as both a bridge and communication tool between the two worlds – the realm of the Patron Ancestors and the humans who worshipped them – he knew his prayer will be received without any problem.

When he was finished praying, he called Misu. It took until he was near the backyard door for her to finally come, and when she did, her chin was dripping water across the floor. Alvalar laughed and hurried out of the house with his trusty caliber in toe.

The clangs of cowbells against the feverish drumming of conga and bonga drums were at first like a distant whisper but the closer he and Misu got to the cluster of stalls near the woods, the drumming and clanging became much more vibrant and louder that it was though the music was screaming. Atop their levitación-piedra powered platform, hovering them high in the air, it was as though the musicians were more concerned with not having their music be drowned out by the crowd’s chatter than falling off, and boy was there a crowd! The size of the throng was like a horde of starling-bats in the height of spring passing through the night, nearly blotting out the moon from view and lighting up the night with their maddening chatter!

As he traversed through the chaos, he began to wonder how if he was ever going to be able to find Smoke’s stall in this mess… however as he watched adults clutter around the food stalls, enjoying plates of freshly made congri con picadillo y malanga, heard the shouts of vendors, advertising their goods and locally-grown produce in Athaese, and moved out of the way as the local gangs of rambunctious children ran with their dog-otters and bear-dogs through the dense crowd with their giggling and laughter in the air, practically beaming with excitement about today’s fête, Alvalar felt his worries fade away amidst all the buzz. This day was truly once and a lifetime!

“Hey, Alvalar,” a familiar voice called. “Hey Misu.” It might’ve been muffled by all the cheering and laughter by the crowd, but to Alvalar, it was as clear as the sense of heat in the air.

Alvalar stopped right in his tracks and turned his head towards the voice so quickly that when he caught a glimpse of Karollus up ahead, he saw that his former lover was in the middle of trying to stifle back the cutest laugh while waving hello to them at his parent’s stall. Wasting no time, Misu dashed right over to Karollus like she hadn’t seen him in years. When she wrapped her giant paws around his neck and licked his face, Karollus couldn’t stifle back the laughter any longer and ran his fingers through her short fur. As he caught glimpses of his former lover’s laughter from afar, Alvalar’s heart went aflutter.

Maybe what mamá said about talking to him is true… he thought with much hope. With a clench of his fist and the roaring flames of determination burning in his chest, Alvalar started to make his way over. Each step he took, inching ever so closer, also blossomed a feeling of nervousness. His stomach became a battle ground of pain. I have this one chance to restrike life into what we once had… I better not mess up this up.