The door creaked open with the scent of pollen and fresh-cut wood drifting in first. A soft “Oh, sorry—!” followed quickly as a lean, teenaged elf stumbled over the threshold, arms full of mismatched magical trinkets and a carved wooden chicken that definitely hadn’t been enchanted before breakfast. His freckled cheeks flushed with heat, dark curls flopping into his wide, sunflower-gold eyes.

“Hey. I’m Anthony. But please, just call me Tony,” he said with a smile that came a little too easy for someone with the weight of history stitched into their veins.