In the time before time, when the heavens were young and the earth still whispered its first breaths, the world was shrouded in twilight. No sun graced the sky, no dawn spilled golden light upon the land. The mortals lived by the glow of ember-lit rivers and the silver shimmer of distant stars, never knowing the full warmth of day.

Then came Lirion, born of the celestial river, woven from the breath of the great Cosmos herself. His form was neither man nor beast, but a shifting silhouette of flame and feather, his eyes glowing like twin moons set aflame. To him was given a solemn charge: to bear the First Light across the heavens, to weave the fabric of day from the dark tapestry of night.

Each morning, Lirion lifted the radiant sphere from its slumber in the east, cradling it within his outstretched wings. With each beat, the sky flushed with colors unknown to mortals—rose and ember, gold and fire. He carried the sun high, his body a bridge between the heavens and the waking world. The rivers gleamed beneath his flight, and the trees stretched their arms to drink in the light he bore.

But with each dusk came sorrow. For as the world thrived in the glow of his labor, Lirion himself remained unseen, a mere shadow against the brightness he carried. As night fell, he descended beyond the horizon, laying the sun to rest in the cradle of the western sea. There, he lingered at the water’s edge, gazing at his own reflection—a creature of light forever bound to duty, never to bask in the warmth he bore.

The stars, his only companions, whispered secrets to him as he rested. "Why do you mourn, Skybearer?" they asked.

"I am the bringer of light, yet I am never bathed in its glow," he whispered in return.

The stars wept for him, casting their silver tears upon the ocean’s waves. But the cycle could not be broken, for should Lirion falter, darkness would reclaim the land, and all life would wither beneath an endless night. And so, each dawn, he rose again, lifting the light upon his wings, a silent guardian of day, bound forever to a sky that would never know his name.

They say to surround yourself with people you love, people who life you up, people who make you better. So who in the absolute hell that is my life thought it was a good idea to put me anywhere in the vicinity of Daphne Vaughn?

All throughout our office, my feelings toward her were perfectly clear. It wasn't necessarily a huge deal, but I went out of my way to avoid her. My coworkers also happened to be very accommodating of this, which was a plus.

The email came through from my manager about there only needing to be a few of us attending this conference, and out of the volunteers, he would pick the few that he needed to come along. Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have thought that he would have taken both of us, if we had both volunteered. I figured he would choose one of the other - whoever he needed the most (which I would like to think is me, because... Daphne).

Which leads me to where I currently am now. In the ballroom of an old hotel unable to focus on making the connections I'm supposed to because of Daphne Vaughn.

She wasn’t just pretty—no, that would be too easy. She had to be breathtaking, like some cruel joke the universe played on the rest of us. She had that ‘effortlessly beautiful’ thing going on, though I knew it took effort. No one just wakes up with skin that clear, right? Right?

I knew what everyone around us was thinking. 'Why would I go talk to Lillian Drake when Daphne Vaughn is here, too?'

Daphne was beautiful and she knew it. She wielded her beauty like a weapon, flashing those big, innocent eyes like a dagger slipped between the ribs. People tripped over themselves to talk to her, hypnotized by the way she carried herself—like the world owed her something, and worse, like it agreed.

Looking around the room, I realized that Daphne stuck out. Except 'like a sore thumb' doesn't quite fit. In fact, she was dolled up so much, it made the rest of us look like sore thumbs. Trust miss perfect to not even read the dress code and show up everyone else in the process.

Her hair fell in those perfect waves—like she’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. As if life had ever given her a bad hair day. Her legs went on forever. Great for her. I’m sure it must be exhausting being that graceful all the time. She had that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look, except somehow it made her look like a model instead of a mess. Some people have all the luck.

I felt like I was in high school all over again. This is the worst. I didn't even hate prom this much, and I had a terrible time at prom.

At the thought of prom, suddenly, inexplicably, I was thrown back to sitting in my basement watching Julia Stiles and Heath Ledger during their prom scene. But then, my mind skipped ahead to a scene that happened just a little later on. It was the only movie I watched during the summer when I was 16. I could quote it by heart. And the one scene specifically, that's playing very vividly in my mind is a scene I had thought of as the epitome of romance for years.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much that it makes me sick and even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, Even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all."

I swallowed loudly at the implications of the poem running through my head and what it might mean. Before my thoughts could take off, however, I made a very conscious effort to stop thinking entirely. What I need, I decided, is the strongest drink I could get from the open bar.

It was the strangest tea party you ever did see. Not the least for the fact that there was no actual tea included. There was supposed to be, of course, but last second mix ups won out this time.

There was, however, wine and champagne and juice, and a little bit of strawberry milk, thanks to Elira Hollows. Like the others, Taryn Everthorne had dressed rather whimsically, as they were instructed to do. She ran a brush through her pin straight black hair, dabbled some makeup on her face, and donned her flounciest floral gown to the tea party. At which she arrived at only to discover a startling lack of tea.

Now, make no mistake. Despite the jovial appearance of the group, in all of their pastel colors, sweet treats, and party decorations, this tea party was anything but a happy affair. Taryn could feel the tensions rolling off the group in waves, and she was well aware that she was a contributing member. What else did you expect from a group of people who didn't actually know who invited them to a tea party without any tea or why they were there?

They all thought they knew, was the problem. Taryn's invite in the mail came from Elowyn Banevale, Elowyn's came from Ravana Mistborn, Ravana's came from Azmira Wolfmire, Azmira's came from Isolde Winfield, Isolde came from Elira Hollows, Elira's came from Lysara Blackbrook, and last but certainly not least, Lysara's came from Taryn Everthorne herself. A nice, neat, perfect circle.

Taryn knew what each woman thought when the opened the letter. She had the same exact thoughts herself. Surprise came first - she hadn't heard from Elowyn or the others in years. Nostalgic fondness came next. Once upon a time, they really were quite a tightknit group. They did everything together back during their school days. The next feeling that crept up her spine was dread. Nothing had been the same after that night; it's why they hadn't connected in so long. However, after a shake of the head, as if ridding her mind of the dread away entirely, joy and excitement followed and stayed. It would be wonderful to see her old crew and catch up with them all.

Now, as Taryn looked around at all of her old friends, she was taken aback by how much time had changed them while changing nothing at all. Ravana was in her signature stripes with hair much shorter than she ever wore it back at school. Meanwhile Azmira's platinum blond hair hadn't changed a bit, but that shade of red was one she never would have been caught dead in once upon a time. Isolde hadn't really changed much, with her dyed red hair and clashing pink outfits; she just had more wrinkles than before. It was astonishing, really, to see the teenagers they once were and the women they had grown into at the same time.

Lysara, ever the leader, was the first to break the silence, "We obviously didn't all invite each other here, which begs the question - who did?"

"You don't think anyone figured out-" Isolde started, but she was cut off by a very emphatic Ravana, who said,

"Absolutely not! That was years ago! There's no way."

Elira, however, brought the question back up, "Why on earth would we all have been gathered here at a tea party by some mysterious person.

The question hung in the air, as thick and heavy as the tension, which had only kept growing. Taryn looked around, wondering not for the first time, how they had come to this. They were happy as girls. They loved being around each other during their school days. They loved to play and go on adventures and make believe. They were never meant to become this - grown women harboring an unthinkable secret from a night they could never forget no matter how hard they wished they could.

Before anyone could say anything further - before any other denials or theories could be voiced - a deep, booming voice exploded around them. The voice was creepy, without a doubt, especially considering they didn't know where it came from. There was nobody else in sight, and they couldn't even pinpoint a direction it was coming from. The bodiless voice was all encompassing which was absolutely terrifying in its own right. It was the words, however, that came from the voice that paralyzed the women in horror.

YOU WILL HIDE NO LONGER! I KNOW WHAT THE SEVEN OF YOU DID TO SORELLA WEAVER AT THE TEA PARTY ON THE FINAL NIGHT OF HER LIFE, AND YOU WILL PAY!

The one thing that surprised Archie about the Remington family through the generations was just how varied the personalities of people from the same bloodline could be.

Donned with the name Archibald Remington in the late 1700s, the foxhound had seen many a Remington throughout the courses of their lives. Today, in the year 2025, comfortably homed with the latest family in the Remington clan in the suburbs of Massachusetts, Archie couldn't help but take a trip down memory lane.

Nathaniel and Elenora Remington first acquired Archie when he was just a pup, one of their very first purchases upon their arrival in the American colonies. He served as the family's loyal companion through the whirlwind of changes at the beginning of their American tenure - the Boston Massacre, the Boston Tea Party, the Revolution, and the birth of their own five children, to name a few. He was a steadfast part of their lives, as Nathaniel and Elenora raised Percival, Estelle, Thaddeus, Cassius, and Beatrix in the dawn of a new nation. He was there as Nathaniel and Elenora each took their last breaths, transitioning from this world to the next.

Thaddeus and his wife Isadora took over the care of Archie next, as their lives played on in the United States of America. Thaddeus took on the role as the carpenter of the county, as he father did before him. And yet again, Archie was witness to the next generation of Remingtons entering the world. Thaddeus and Isadora were blessed with three children - Maximillian, Celeste, and Nathaniel, after his grandfather.

Archie's life continued on much like that for the next few hundred years. There were, of course, some rogue Remingtons, like Camille in the 1920s, who took Archie around the country with her during her travels as a Jazz musician during the prohibition. Sebastian Remington was somewhat of a punk in the late 1940s as one of the founders of Hells Angels biker gang. He portrayed Archie as his guard dog, a role Archie went along with solely out of loyalty to the family. New York in the early 1970s with Jack Remington was...well, interesting, to say the least. Honestly, the less said about that period of time, the better.

His personal (and secret) favorite Remington was Fiona, who was the sweetest soul Archie had ever come across. From the time she reached adulthood in the 1880s until Camille had to take over Archie's care in the late 1910s, Archie was loved and adored like he never had been. The novelty of travel and new people had served as Archie's much needed distraction from the sadness of leaving Fiona behind.

All of that led him to today, living with the Remingtons of far too many generations to count away from Nathaniel and Elenora. Miles and Naomi Remington currently cared for him, along with their young children, Lyla and Cooper.

One thing that Archie found to be quite delightful was that no matter how far or wide a Remington decided to travel, they always found their way back to their colonial roots. Archie loved Massachusetts, and it seemed that the Bay State had quite a hold on the Remingtons as well. No matter who he served as companion to, despite their virtues or flaws (and believe that Archie saw a myriad of both throughout the generations), he was never away from Massachusetts for more than 5 years at a time. And in the grand scheme of his life with the Remingtons, 5 years was nothing more than the blink of an eye.

From his place in his dog bed, as he finished musing over the past, Archie couldn't help but turn his sights toward the future and wonder which Remington he'd end up with next. Maybe Lyla or Cooper would take over after their parents. Cousin Elliot was a Remington Archie wouldn't mind ending up with. Aunt Valerie's branch of Remingtons was a solid option, too. Felix and Mia weren't ideal, but Archie would survive; he lived through far worse Remingtons than them.

No matter where the journeys of the Remington family took him next, though, Archie remained sure of his status of the most loved foxhound who ever lived.

Luna looked absolutely ravishing in the dress. The sapphire blue chiffon ruffles cascaded like waves down her figure. Her platinum ringlet curls were pinned up and decorated with a tiara, making her an undeniable vision of royalty. Everyone expected a showstopper from Luna, but she had outdone herself this time. The Governor's Ball was the most important event of the year, featuring everybody who was anybody.

Luna was astonished she was even mailed an invite, after the stunt she pulled at the New Year's Gala. She wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. She simply dressed herself to the nines, made her grandiose entrance into the ballroom, and prepared for the chaos that was about to ensue.

You've come back But I no longer need you It made my heart crack and my entire being blue

Cause you're the one who left You were just up and gone My world felt bereft I felt like your pawn

But now that you decided I was worth coming back to Your hopes are misguided All I have to say is fuck you

I've matured on my own And I'm happier this way Without you, I've grown You longer have a say

You may have made the choice first But now the choice is mine I don't care what took turns for the worst It's now my time to shine

So go back to where you went When you decided I wasn't enough I'll get over your senseless torment I'm just that strong and tough

Ultimately, she decided to marry the king, but not for power or riches. She didn't have the luxury of being so greedy. She didn't have the luxury of marrying for love, either. No. Ivy Devereaux was forced to marry for safety.

Now, make no mistake. King Evander Lockwood was more than well aware of the situation. Their marriage was his idea in the first place, and Ivy was endlessly grateful for it.

It didn't, however, mitigate the fact that it was a shitty situation for everyone involved. And not for nothing, but the last thing Ivy really wanted to be was the queen. She didn't want the responsibility or the publicity or the pomp and circumstance. It was the publicity as well as a whole entire team of guards and security, however, that would be her shield. Ivy would just have to learn to accept it, maybe even welcome it.

Evander was a good king and an even better man. Obviously, if he was willing to vow himself and the kingdom to Ivy just for her safety. He might even be willing to let her have some say is the way he rules the kingdom. After all, Ivy knows far more about the everyday citizen than Evander ever will. If she gets the opportunity to enact some sort of change that will save even one woman from suffering a fate similar to hers, she decided that it will all have been totally worth it.

And so there Ivy was on her wedding day, all eyes on her as she floated down the aisle in a larger-than-life-dress, the very picture of tasteful, stunning elegance. The tiara on top of her head and the bouquet in her hands completed the grandeur look as everyone in attendance was rendered speechless by the sheer beauty and grace of their soon-to-be-queen. Even in the silence, however, the wind was whispering in Ivy's ear, one simple phrase on repeat: Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ivy Devereaux Lockwood.

Up until now, everything had been going great. The town fair had been going surprisingly well for me. Of course, that's when I let my guard down and made the crucial mistake.

I got in into the bouncy castle.

Now, I'm sure you have your questions. Yes, I'm an adult. Yes, I was allowed to be on it. Our town really shells out on the yearly town fair, including rentals of adult friendly bouncy castles.

It was a spontaneous decision I made, and those don't usually end well for me. I wasn't really thinking of that, though. I just wanted to bounce around for a bit before heading back to my apartment.

I had been jumping for maybe 35 seconds when I heard the dreaded POP. I felt it too, the sudden rush of air out of the bouncy castle as the floor underneath of me went lax.

Another thing to know about me is that I'm incredibly claustrophobic. As soon as that POP rang through the air, my heart dopped to the floor. I immediately turned my gaze to the opening of the bouncy castle, and to my horror, that was the first thing that was losing air and collapsing.

My screams of terror were drowned out by the screams of delight from everyone else. Shrieking 'help' apparently just mixed right in with the laughter and joy because no one came to help me.

As the castle collapsed around me, I continued to thrash around. Panic clouded my vision, preventing me from getting any sort of view of the opening. The ringing bell of someone winning a game sounded like alarm bells in my mind. It was all I could do not to start hyperventilating even though it was getting more cramped by the second. The pleasant summer air suddenly felt stifling as the walls of the bouncy castle rapidly closed in on me.

Just when I thought all hope was lost, I spotted a glorious patch of grass. It was a pretty big opening, I guess where the bouncy castle must have ripped. I didn't particularly care about the details; all that mattered to me was that it was big enough for me to fit through. I dove towards it, wrestling my way through the whole and back onto solid ground.

I looked around me at the other townspeople, enjoying the fair and completely oblivious to my near death situation. As I stood there, red faced and panting, next to the limp bouncy castle, I decided firmly on one simple thing.

Never. Again.

Being the Key Bearer was a difficult job, but it came with its benefits. Felix was quite literally in it for the benefits only. He didn't go through all of that training because he thought it would be a fun, easy gig.

The thing about Felix Donovan was that he always found himself in the middle of the most awkward situations known to man. It was like his superpower, but so much worse. Being the Key Bearer for the region was his way of gaining some control over his occasional misfortunes.

Key Bearing came with a great deal of responsibility which Felix took seriously, of course. He was in charge of all of the comings and goings throughout the region. There were thousands a day, including the confidential visits that only a select few knew about.

Felix's benefit, though - the only reason that made this whole thing worth it - was the fact that he had total control over the keys and all ensuing travel. When he found himself in a situation that he wished he could get out of, he had the control to do so. All he had to do was think of where he wanted to go, pull the key out of his pocket, and find a door. It saved him from a myriad of awkward situations and uncomfortable conversations. Despite the endless secrecy and bureaucracy he was forced to suffer, he decided that his one perk made the whole thing more than well worth it.

Venus's dove sings languages of love It's in a hug and a kiss When things go amiss It's the peals of laughter And all the time spent thereafter I'm always on his mind He's so genuinely thoughtful and kind He makes it clear, his devotion, It makes me feel every emotion And in being his The best part is He's oh so sweet He makes me complete I'm thankful he's mine Our love intertwine