Everything has a spirit. The grass blades around you. The wind sprites playing tag in-between those grass blades. The big, chunky rock you’ve decided to rest on. But that’s something that most people in the Allglades know already. Kids here are taught from the very start that everything in this world is alive, and sentient, and connected, by the steady thrum and pulse of the magic ley lines coursing through it all. Ichor, it’s called. The life elixir that keeps our world running.

But what most people don’t know, or most likely choose to ignore, is that everything has a personality, too. That bunch of grass blades next to you really dislikes the way you are crunching down on your lettuce sandwich right now. The wind sprites that are hiding just out of your sight are likely plotting your new hairdo. The big, chunky rock under you actually doesn’t care all that much about anything, but you are kind of blocking those delicious sun rays that usually keep it so warm and comfy around this time of day. In other words, contrary to the belief of many, objects do have their own minds and their own agendas. 

Somewhere inside an old shed in the back corner of some faraway woods, the young enchanting master clicked his tongue, then threw back his head and let out an exasperated sigh. He had been working on this particular item since early dawn, but this one piece of grimestone just refused to cooperate. No matter how much Lukai seemed to tweak the runes and offer compromises, the stubborn thing’s core just did not budge. The personal agenda of that little brat managed to completely elude him.

“Fine”, he finally said and fixed the small pebble on the working table before him with a pout. “Have it your way then.” He simply flicked the thing off the table with his index finger. It clattered quietly to the ground, then rolled into a corner dejectedly.

“Yeah, serves you right. If you don’t want to be a part of this, just say so. No need to waste anyone’s time and energy with groundless sulking.” Lukai felt his own irises darken in irritation as he talked, and in response, felt the pebble’s aura spike in contempt and indignation, then continue refusing to elaborate what it felt so wronged by in vindictive silence.

At this, he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. “Dramatic much.”

The sudden melody of jingling windchimes outside interrupted their squabble and swiftly drew the enchanter’s attention to the shed’s open entrance. At the familiar dandelion scent washed in by the breeze, a smile pulled at Lukai's features and immediately brushed away any shadow of previous upsets. 

"Teacher, you're back", he beamed, and the vines on the door frames perked up. "How's the Fae?" 

The wide rim of a straw hat peaked through first, lowered to one side so as to not get stuck inside the small shed's door. The motion made the tiny key chains adorning it dangle in delight; their metallic clinking contributed to the cheerful song of the windchimes with its own shy tunes. Then, the rest of the person swept through the entrance, a hand languidly stretching out of a long travel coat to brush aside the veil underneath the hat. 

Wayfarer Lœwenzahn was tall, slender and possessed a strange, difficult-to-define magical kind of beauty, like all creatures of the Fae, but most of it was hidden away carefully behind layers and layers of cloth. They almost always looked like a peddler, what with the ridiculous amount of pouches and trinkets they carried at all times and their well-worn travel attire. With their veil held open to better adjust to the shed's lack of brightness, Lukai caught a rare sight of their tranquil always-smiling eyes, their lids drooping and grass green irises speckled with tiny fragments of lost sunlight. 

Dropping the veil once again to let it close like curtains over a stageplay, they started looking around the shed as if it was their first time visiting and not them returning from a long trip to their home dimension. "Oh, just about the same", they replied with a vague hand brush. "You know how the days in that realm go by." 

"And what's everyone been up to?" 

The traveller finally turned to face Lukai when they spoke. There was a grin in their voice. "The queens are planning a ritual ceremony to summon their seventh daughter. Everyone's busy with preparations. I didn't get to find Hermit Crab and little Honeycup, but they're apparently lost on another one of their journeys in the Dark Forest. Probably on the run from another altercation with the Court."

"Typical", Lukai chuckled, then sighed longingly. "I'd love to go visit them all again one of these days."

The Wayfarer faced him in a bit of a sad silence. Their student was, after all, a bit of a walking contradiction in a sense. 

It was a well-known fact that humans who entered the Fae Realm either returned with minds broken beyond repair, suffering from major memory loss (sometimes paired with personality changes and a lingering state of perpetual confusion among other stuff), or, and that seemed to be the most prevalent outcome, never returned at all. And yet, as a child, Lukai had wandered into the Fae Realm and came out five years later with not only his mind perfectly intact, but instead also his very being strangely infused with energy of the Fae. 

A human blessed by the Fae. It was a thing that wasn't supposed to be possible, and yet the Wayfarer saw it take shape in front of them, in the form of a fidgety daydreaming adolescent. Even in the dimness of the shed, Lukai's irises seemed to crackle and simmer with magic, and the wild freckles splattered across his skin had a weird iridescent glow whenever hit by any semblance of light. The lone flower positioned on an askew shelf nearby drooped noticeably in its pot, as though quietly heaving a sigh of melancholy in sync with the enchanter's absent look. 

Sadly, humans weren't supposed to contain that much foreign energy, and even with all the little perks of his new attunement to magic, Lukai found it hard to keep it all in at times. Another return to the Fae could be dangerous, if not fatal; not to mention it was an unprecedented situation. Not even the Wayfarer would be able to foretell the aftereffects of such a risk. 

Needless to say, Lukai couldn't return, even if his heart longed for the place and the dear friends he had made there during his stay. It was hard, even for the Wayfarer, to look at the unusual expression of wistful sadness on their young student's face. 

Therefore, the Wayfarer decided to distract him instead, and oh, would you look at that, they had just the thing for it. "Yes, Nifadila asked me to give you this."

Out of one of their pockets, Lœwenzahn pulled a parcel and held it towards Lukai, who took and swiftly unpacked it. At the sight of its contents, his face brightened, and the specks of dust around him broke into a little excited dance. The flower from before cheered up as well, the tips of its leaves now curled in anticipation. 

“That’s just what I needed for my latest project!”, he exclaimed and immediately rushed off towards the shelves. He searched through all the clutter and pulled out a device, before carrying it over to the working table and pushing aside all the other mess to make way for the new weight in his arms. 

The Wayfarer, interest visibly sparked, made their way over to the same corner and peeked over Lukai's shoulder. “And what's this you've been tinkering on?”

“Sort of like a scrying glass, but it only shows you locations you have been to before”, the enchanter supplied, a mark of giddy enthusiasm colouring his explanation. 

As he pulled out the translucent crystal from the parcel and set to work, the Wayfarer watched him a bit, before retreating silently and returning to the small, ivy-covered house hidden in an alcove of birches not far away from the shed. They unpacked, rekindled the hearth and brewed tea, and sat down with a book to wait for the enchanter to finish his work and come join them. The day drew to a close in a very comfortably ordinary way, with the two lone inhabitants of this forest corner once again enjoying each other's company over tea, and making up for the long absence by sharing all the new stories that transpired within it. 

What more could life possibly have to offer?