“I take the smut,” I said as I felt the first ping of returning sensation from the ever-after. The rising wave of pain crested, then broke about me to lap a new film of black imbalance over me. I tasted it as I grabbed a fold of shirt and tried to cover myself, thinking the new coating had almost a metallic tang to it. My legs were hairy, as in I-can’t-find-my-razor hairy. I wasn’t going to look at my armpits, knowing what I’d find. I suddenly realized I’d reset my biological clock yet again. No wonder demons lived forever.

“Nice,” I whispered, looking up as I heard the hum of pixy wings and a shaft of light pierced in. It was Jih, looking like an angel as she clambered into my shirt, a haze of blue sparkles about her. A green dress with gold and silver lace was over her arm. Under it was a set of green trousers and a shirt—for Pierce, I was sure. The young pixy woman pushed aside a fold of cloth and stood. She looked to be ten inches shorter than me if we had been human size. Her face was streaked with glitter from her dried tears, and she looked miserable. I knew she was a full adult with a husband and a garden of her own, but she looked ten to me, and my heart went out to her. I wasn’t the only one grieving.

“Ms. Rachel,” she said, holding out the dress. Her voice sounded exactly the same, which I thought odd. Mine did, too.

“Thanks, Jih,” I said, quickly taking the dress and accepting her help putting it on. It crossed over itself in the back and tied in the front to allow for wings. The fabric itself was soft and so light I hardly knew I had it on, making me feel naked anyway. Silver and gold lace decorated it, and apart from my embarrassingly hairy lower legs showing, it fit perfectly. “This is beautiful,” I murmured, and Jih managed a sad smile, meeting my eyes for the first time.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I made it last year. It was the first time I’d ever tried making that pattern of lace. It took me all week to convince my mother—”

Her words stopped, and my heart just about broke when she covered her face and started to cry. “Oh, Jih,” I said, immediately stumbling over the inside of my shirt to get to her. “I’m so sorry.” I gave the young wife a hug and she sobbed all the harder. “We are all going to miss her, but you probably most of all. You knew her your entire life.”

Pulling back, she nodded as she wiped her eyes with a small cloth pulled from behind the bandage on her arm. She’d fought beside her parents, another pixy tradition broken.