Fabrian’s feet carried her and she moved automatically, and she immediately pulled the shopkeeper into her embrace. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen her sister in-person, not even before her deployment in the real world. She’d already been gone for more than half a year, and then with the added month here in Two Kingdoms Lost in Tears and Sorrow, it had just been far too long. But here Daphne stood, living and breathing before her. An ugly cry tore past Fabrian’s throat as she clutched the young woman closer. Her breathing staggered and for a moment, everything felt like a dream. She was actually just about to hop off the plane that landed at the base where she was stationed. In the aircraft hanger, everyone would be waiting to welcome her home—her mother, her father, and Daphne. 

The shopkeeper briefly patted Fabrian’s back gently before clearing her throat.

“Um, excuse me, Miss Person-I’ve-Never-Met-Before,” The shopkeeper said between staggered pats on the back. “Would you mind letting go now?”

Fabrian paused. What?

Reluctantly, she pushed herself away and glanced up and down at the shopkeeper . She looked like…Daphne. And yet, she wasn’t. Her face, her eyes, her hair—those were all the same. Even her body, short and well-rounded, appeared to be the same. But this Daphne had freckles, and very obvious burn scars along her fingers and palms. 

I don’t think this is my sister Daphne, Fabrian realized with dawning horror. She choked out an apology quickly. “I’m so sorry—you, it’s just, ahh…” Fabrian stumbled over her words, furiously scrubbing at her eyes to swipe off any lingering tears. “I thought I saw a ghost.”

“A ghost?” The shopkeeper parroted in confusion. 

Fabrian found she couldn’t look the woman in the eye. “I, uh, lost my sister. Recently. And when I saw you, I thought… Sorry, I’m just going to go. I really meant no harm. Sorry, again.”

Everything hurt. She was back to square one—back to being completely isolated from the family she once knew. As she turned sharply on her toes, a hand grasped her wrist, and Fabrian turned to see the shopkeeper staring intently at her. 

“Would you like some tea?” The shopkeeper offered. “I’d feel terrible sending you back out there while you look like such a wreck.”

Fabrian choked down a laugh. That definitely sounded like her sister. “If you don’t mind…I’ll take you up on tea.”

The shopkeeper sat Fabrian down at a long table that had books piled on either end—the poor woman had to shove papers, scrolls, and tomes to one side to prepare a presentable spot for Fabrian to sit at. She brought over a dainty porcelain teapot with enamel flowers and sparrows along the handle and the spout. The shopkeeper placed a matching teacup before Fabrian and filled it to the rim. The liquid seemed room temperature, without any hint of the usual steam that usually wafted from a freshly brewed cup. She wasn’t sure if she should say something, but thought a lukewarm cup of water might’ve been the shopkeeper’s revenge for Fabrian randomly tackling her in a hug. 

Before she could think more on the matter, the shopkeeper snapped her fingers and murmured “Fuegis.”

The liquid in her teacup bubbled, as if the tea was in a  kettle, before it calmed to a slow roil and eventually stilled.

“Let that steep for just a moment, I promise you won’t be disappointed though.” The shopkeeper said proudly. She then added a small cheese-cloth sachet into the cup, red petals and gold leaves visible through the thin material. “My own personal blend of rose, lavender, and goldenrod.” 

“Thank you,” Fabrian said softly. 

The shopkeeper produced another teacup from the pocket of her skirt, and poured herself a cup—repeating the same process and spell. 

“Are you…a magician?” Fabrian asked. 

“A warlock, actually,” the young woman smiled. “But unfortunately my attunement is to the element fire, which is rather inconvenient when you own a shop full of paper.”

“That is inconvenient,” Fabrian snorted. 

“It helps me make a mean cup of tea or coffee, though.” The young woman flexed her free hand, drinking from the teacup once it stopped simmering. “So, not all is lost.”

Quiet settled upon them, and despite the outburst from earlier, there was nothing awkward about it. Fabrian ran her thumb along the edge of the teacup, pressing her skin against the rounded corner. She watched as steam swirled and bend around the finger. It gave her something to focus on. 

The shopkeeper let out a sharp huff. “Y’know, it’s funny. I just couldn’t get mad at you earlier. I also lost my sister a year ago, and if it was still fresh, if I saw someone who I thought was her—I would’ve reacted like you.”

Fabrian turned her gaze immediately to the young woman. “Your sister passed?”

“Mmhm, she died because of a war,” the shopkeeper said just above a whisper. “I miss her. Quite a lot. That being said, I recommend that you don’t go embracing random women all willy-nilly like some creep.”

“I promise I won’t!” Fabrian immediately protested. 

The shopkeeper waved her off along with a burst of laughter. “Good, cause I guarantee most won’t be as benevolent as me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fabrian laughed sheepishly, taking a sip of tea. Her eyes widened and she stared down at her cup. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and a pleasant calm seeped through her high-strung nerves. 

“Mean cup of tea, right?” The shopkeeper gave a smug and knowing look. 

“Yeah, thank you,” Fabrian agreed. “It’s really good.”

The two of them chatted for a while, discussing teas and the collection of artisan teacups and teapots that the shopkeeper had, always happy to commission a personalized set if she liked the craftsman enough. Eventually, customers found their way into the store, and Fabrian was left to her own devices as the other woman took care of her clientele. Fabrian watched with growing fondness as the shopkeeper bounded up to her customers with nothing short of exuberance. Her face lit up at their arrival and continued to do so as they chatted about different subjects of history, art, fairytales, and so on.

Fabrian could clearly picture a time when they were younger, and Daphne was finishing the last of the coursework for her screenwriting minor. The two of them were huddled in the dorm lobby during the early morning hours. Fabrian had been half-asleep, run ragged by her last semester of officer’s training. Her younger sister, however, was wide awake—revved to life by three different energy drinks. 

“I even added my own personal touch, a self-insert!” Daphne announced excitedly. 

Fabrian jolted awake for a moment, her brain foggy. “You inserted yourself where?”

“No, stupid!” Daphne cackled, turning her laptop screen so Fabrian could see. “A self-insert. Like…a character modeled after you, the writer. It’s just…a fun little way to imagine you participating with the characters in your story.”

“Seems…self-centered?” Fabrian said, not really getting it. But her sister seemed pleased. 

“Maybe,” Daphne offered a satisfied little nod towards her script. “But it’s more of, maybe I just want to spend time with the people I devoted so much time to creating, just as another person.”

Fabrian took a final dredge of the tea before placing the cup back on the table. She still didn’t understand the self-insert part, but was glad she never did until now. The surprise of coming across this character in her sister’s TV drama was more than enough. And since this was now her reality, well…perhaps she should just think of the shopkeeper as another person in her life.

“Sorry about that! The scholars in training tend to come by in droves right before I close for the evening!” The shopkeeper jogged back over. “How’re you doing? Think you’ll survive?”

Fabrian laughed. “I’ll be just fine. Thank you so much for your generosity, Miss—?”

“No title needed, it makes me nauseous,” the shopkeeper waved nonchalantly. “My name is Daphis.”

Staring up at the ceiling for a moment, Fabrian realized her sister had not a subtle bone in her body. All the same, she returned her attention to Daphis and extended her hand. “Fabrian.”

Daphis faltered for a moment, her sunny disposition flitting into something confused and hurt. Maybe it was a trick of the light. But as quick as the mood changed, it returned, and she eagerly clasped her hand to Fabrian’s. “Well met! Thank you for stopping by today. Although, I’ll have to insist you come back in the future and actually offer patronage. You know, for me being such a hospitable host and all.”

“You have my word,” Fabrian chuckled. “For now though, I’ve got a ways to walk from here. I need to get back to the West Side.”

Daphis’ brow raised. “The West Side? Are you a merchant?”

“No, just traveling with them. My caravan arrived earlier today—I’m sure someone has noticed I’ve disappeared by now.”

“So…I imagine I won’t be seeing you again anytime soon.”

“Oh, I’m actually just a guard,” Fabrian said. “For personal reasons, I’ve actually decided to stay here in Rotia. The head caravan merchant is taking me to see the housing guild tomorrow to talk shop and see if there’s an affordable place to live.”

Daphis’ eyes lit up, and she scurried around the other side of the table to the far wall where a bulletin board hung. She tore off a tallow-colored paper that was pinned to the board, and brought it back over for Fabrian to view. “A guard, you say? Well, I don’t know if you’re looking for work once you settle here, but you should go to the palace. Not only are they always hiring, but the knight order is hosting tryouts this whole week! Maybe you can try your luck.”

“The knights?” Fabrian echoed. “You mean with armor and swords and cool chivalrous codes?”

The shopkeeper let out a sharp laugh. “Yes, I mean things like that. Granted, since you’re not a noble, you’ll probably start off as a squire or a fourth-tier knight, but I hear they provide all knights a place in the barracks with room and board as part of the pay. Sounds pretty good for someone just moving in, no?”

“You had me at free room and food,” Fabrian said. “Is it alright if I keep the flyer?”

“Be my guest!” Daphis said. “A town crier comes by every day and brings me a new one. I’ve been using the flyer scraps to make artisan paper.”

A wry grin crept across Fabrian’s mouth. “Well…I’ll be sure to use this one for its intended purposes.”

Waving goodbye, Fabrian left the shop with another reason to convince herself to stay. Daphis was technically not Daphne—but in a way, she also was. In the same way that perhaps a video recording is an echo of the person depicted. She clutched the flyer listing information on the knights tryouts. Even if it was just a vestige, the fact that she had some resemblance of her family here was enough to keep her strong.

It wasn’t until she was half way back to the West Side, and the sun had nearly sunken behind the skyline of the city, that Fabrian realized Daphis was also the contact Stella had told her to reach out to.