“That I do not know. I’m sorry to disappoint you, child.” Mama Magdaline takes a deep draft of sweet tea. She puts her cup down on the table between the two settees. “To bond to the trees and green, I had to find the first place the magic flowed in the area I call my own—I had to find the oldest tree in existence and mix my blood with its sap. Perhaps you need to find the door to the oldest city in the world and bleed on it? I’m not sure. But for all our sakes, I hope you find the way soon.” Having said this, Mama Magdaline proceeds to ignore our existence and devotes her attention to the sumptuous tea Eulalie prepared. We hold out for a minute before we join her. It is, of course, rude to let a guest eat alone.

Blood and the Between

Mama Magdaline left after eating her fill of Eulalie’s food. Though she is gone, the smell of roses remains, and the sunflower growing outside pokes its leaves in through the window Ghufran just opened as if searching for her. We are draped over the furniture in various poses of repose, recovering from Mama Magdaline’s overpowering magic. Well, all of us are exhausted except for Taraana.

He sits beside Paheli (which is not a surprise at this point), with his chin cupped in the palm of his hand, his elbow of which is resting on his knee. He is deep in thought.

“What do you plan to do now?” Eulalie nudges Daraja over and sits next to her on the settee Mama Magdaline was sitting on. Valentina and Paheli, who were whispering to each other, look up at her words.

“It depends on what Taraana wants to do,” Paheli replies. “I’m still thinking about the best way to defeat villains.”

“With a giant vat of boiling oil,” Kamboja suggests.

Paheli pauses, tilts her head, and narrows her eyes. She seems to be considering the suggestion.

Widad sighs loudly. “Be serious.”

“I don’t know how you can get more serious than a giant vat of boiling oil,” Kamboja huffs.

“I will not dignify that with a response,” Widad replies.

“But you just did?” Ligaya points out.

“Have a jelly bean.” Daraja takes out her stash and places it on the table.

Before the chaos can fully descend, Taraana clears his throat. We fall silent and look at him.

“I would like to see if I can bond to the Between,” he says. His voice is too soft, as if he’s not sure of his right to make noise. We will have to give him screaming lessons.

“It’s not easy to figure out which city is the oldest one in the world. I mean, there are speculations but nothing certain,” Talei says.

“We can try as many as it takes…” Taraana’s voice is hesitant.