Chapter 1
The village of Oceanbrook was so drab and salty that the local seagulls had a permanent look of clinical depression. It was a grey, misty place, much like a damp basement with a view, where the fog didn't just linger—it moved in and started claiming the furniture. Corin, a seventeen-year-old warrior who had seen enough combat to fill three lifetimes, walked through the slushy streets with the graceful fluidity of a falling refrigerator. Beside him, May, his eighteen-year-old wife and a powerful Killio lady, navigated the puddles with a magical poise that suggested she was walking on air, mostly because she was.
They approached their home, a sturdy but tiny structure that looked like several driftwood shacks had huddled together for warmth and then got stuck that way. The front door groaned with the sound of a thousand rusty hinges having a collective mental breakdown as they entered. Inside, the house was a chaotic masterpiece of "old-timy" domestic life. The air smelled of salt, lavender, and the faint, ozone scent of May’s spells.
The living room was currently a high-stakes arena. Burtie and Bobina were engaged in an intense, Bluey-style game that had been thoroughly "old-timy-afied." They were playing "The Great Carriage Heist of the Cobbled Lane." Burtie was on all fours, wearing a wicker basket on his back as a "horse," while Bobina stood on a stool, waving a wooden spoon like a highwayman’s flintlock.
"Halt, traveler! Deliver your crumpets or face the tickle-curse!" Bobina shrieked, jumping off the stool with the athletic precision of a sack of potatoes hitting a wooden deck.
"I cannot halt!" Burtie muffled from inside the basket. "The Queen’s marmalade must reach the docks before the tide! Also, I have become a turtle! A very hairy, confused turtle!"
"Hi, kids," Corin said, catching a falling vase with a reflexes of a cat—if that cat was wearing lead boots.
"Father! Mother!" the kids shouted, abandoning the heist and swarming their legs like hyperactive barnacles.
"Did you bring the copy machine?" Bobina asked, her eyes wide.
"The coffee machine?" Corin asked, looking at May.
"No! The machine that makes two of everything! Like a twin-maker!"
"Not today, little barnacle," May laughed, ruffling Bobina’s hair.
Corin and May shared a look of "we love them but we are exhausted" and retreated to the balcony. It was a tiny wooden platform overlooking the slate-grey saltwater. It was so small that if they both took a deep breath at the same time, the railing would start to sweat.
May leaned against the salt-crusted wood, her Killio aura flickering a dim violet. "Corin, I love this place, but I feel like I’m living in a thimble. I have all this magic, and I’m raising two carriage-thieves in a box made of splinters. I need room to breathe. I need space to be a woman, not just a wall-resident."
Corin stepped up behind her, his large, scarred hands resting on her shoulders. He tiptoed toward her with the gracefulness of a falling refrigerator, trying not to make the old boards scream. He pulled her into a hug, his voice deep and steady. "I know. It’s small. It’s grey. But it’s ours. I’ll build you a palace out of driftwood if I have to. I’ll fight the very sea to give you another room."
May smiled, the tension leaving her. She turned in his arms, looking up into his weary eyes. They shared a 0.5-second-long sweet kiss of pure affection—a tiny spark of gold in a very grey world.
Blink.
In the background, peeping through the slats of the wooden door like two professional spies, Burtie and Bobina were watching with wide eyes.
"Ooooooh la la!" they whispered at exactly the same time, giggling so hard they fell over each other in a heap of wool and laughter.
