“SH-,” Phoebe began to yelp as the hot pan Wren was levitating from the oven grazed her arm, before realizing the youngest witch in the house was at the kitchen table, memorizing tarot cards. “-UGAR HONEY ICED TEA!” A sniff of held-back laughter came from behind her.

“I will blind you, motherfucker,” Phoebe whispered in Wren’s mind, making the other witch huff aloud.

A soft voice settled the beginnings of an argument. “Feebs, are you making tea?” Eager, brown eyes glowed with anticipation for such a treat.

“Of course, I am. Anything for you, Aya.” Phoebe thanked whoever was listening that iced tea was something she knew how to make.

 The expletive blurted from Phoebe’s mouth would’ve shocked Aya as a child, but she had gotten over the contradiction of her bubbly personality and foul mouth. When the coven’s former façade disappeared, it revealed their true nature, some of it being easier to handle than others. Wren’s jaw hanging open had Aya reeling, though. Wren was not stunned easily.

“Are you- Is it that…concerning?” Aya reached a tentative hand out, but the older witch withdrew her hands from the tabletop.

“In some respects,” Wren started, “yes, but let’s talk about the dream first.”

Aya pushed away from the table and headed toward the stairs. “I need my notes.”

“We’ll also need Orson,” Phoebe’s voice carried to Aya before she climbed to her room. With her plans to shower put on hold, she did a rudimentary bathroom trip, then snatched up her notepad.

When Aya arrived back downstairs, Wren was staring into the oven, murmuring to herself. “Are they ready yet?”

“It’ll be another 10 minutes.” Aya suppressed a smile while glancing at the timer on the microwave, which read 9:53. 9:52… “Why don’t we flip them around?”

Wren nodded in solemn agreement, pulling open the oven door. Instead of floating them out, she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and concentrated on rotating the pan without causing the muffins to deflate. Aya, leaning against the island in case she needed to help, jumped slightly at the hand that came to rest on her shoulder. Behind her, James, one the warlocks in her coven, gestured to the oven. “I can’t believe you always manage to salvage their attempts.” At the comment, Wren closed the oven and turned, her mitts floating off to reveal a matching set of middle fingers aimed at James.

“Why don’t you take care of dinner tonight, Jamie?” Aya offered, imagining what kind of horror he'd produce if he had to take Wren's spot. She would’ve laughed at his scrunched-up expression if the vibration of thunder hadn’t distracted her. The sound of the front door slamming open echoed through the house.

“I’m here!” A boisterous voice preceded Orson’s appearance in the kitchen by seconds, the big, Russian man clomping toward Aya. “I heard you had a new dream.” At the announcement, James swung widened eyes toward his friend, dark eyebrows straining toward his hairline. Aya had no time to give a verbal acknowledgment, for Phoebe was gesturing wildly for the four witches to join her in the living room.

“She did, she did, and we wanna get to interpreting it ASAP,” Phoebe took the lead. “Aya, can you walk us through some of the broader details first?”

“Of course.” She flipped to a page of sketches. “So, I woke up naked in a white bed in a completely white space. After sitting up,” as she continued, Orson quietly rose from an armchair, peering behind Aya, toward the kitchen entrance, “I saw a cloud floating toward me. As it got closer, two distinct voices were speaking. I’m not sure if they were actually speaking to me or not since some parts were quieter than the others, but first was-”

A voice cut into her recount. “Something smells divine.”