You do not mess with time. That had been drilled into Mace’s head long before she heard the lecture in school, which is why she watched the clock nervously. Tria would not be here any second, Mace knew which second, and it was agony to count down.

Ye Olde Road house had a small mirror attached to its coat rack, and Mace checked herself again and again. Her hair? Still smoothed over, but fighting like hells. Her outfit? She decided to go in for a doublet and hose, though now she was regretting it. While the doublet doubled the size of her torso, the hose were too slimming, making her look like a strutting rooster. Her codpiece? Well, no one would be questioning her virility with this one. She decided to forgo it.

Questioning her choice of outfit and every life decision up to that point, Mace heard a knock at the door. Tria was dressed like herself, that is, always stunning. She went for a simple fur lined dress that hung off the shoulders. Painted on her face were intricate white marks that started from her chest, up along her neck, across her cheeks and nose, and around her eyes.

“Oh…wow,” said Mace, subtly tossing the codpiece out of sight.

Tria blushed. “Well I just threw something together, you know it is.”

“Those markings…”

“Too much?” Tria asked. “It’s traditional Behemoth face paint, it would probably look a lot better if I had a longer nose and more hair on my face.”

“No no, it looks good,” said Mace.

Like all mothers, Thistle appeared from nowhere. “Oh! It’s just like when Iso brought home her first girlfriend,” sighed Thistle. “Let me get out my camera!”

Photography had been established on Munth since the time of the new gods. Though interestingly, it was developed independently by both wizards and goetics. Wizards were fascinated by the chemical process of capturing light with silver halide reacting to light while goetics were fascinated with a photo’s ability to steal souls.

“Smile!” said Thistle. Neither Mace nor Tria had the heart to tell her that they had been smiling for ten minutes as she fussed with all the camera’s knobs. The flash pan made a woomp! The world went bright then dark.

“Oooh,” said Thistle, looking down at a completely blank photo. “That’ll look so good in a couple days.”

Thistle admired it for a bit before Tria cleared her throat. “Oh I’m sorry, you must be anxious to get going and I’m holding you up.” She pulled them both into a big hug and whispered “I’m so proud of you both.”

Cobpleton had a thriving nightlife, if you could call working for little in the small hours of the morning living. The Late House cafe was a godsend to night owls, despite its owner not speaking a shred of countish. His patrons assumed that that was why he misspelled late with two t’s and a funny e.

Mace and Tria managed to order two non-caffeine cold brews after many gestures and pointing. Then the awkwardness slithered its way and sat on Mace’s brain like an elephant on a fence.

“So…um…” Mace started, and finished because she couldn’t think of anything else.

“So,” said Tria, leaning in.

Gods save her from the look Tria was giving her. She looked so… genuinely interested in whatever Mace had to say. There should be physical laws against that sort of thing. No one had ever shown this much interest in her. She hoped whatever she said next wouldn’t disappoint.

“So…fathers huh? Mine was a deadbeat jackass…”

“Oh,” said Tria. “I guess mine- er Gorganthal, is better than most.”

Maybe time could be messed with, just a bit. To undo whatever that was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” said Mace, trying to salvage splinters from the shipwreck that was this date.

“It’s alright. I’m feeling a little awkward too.”

Mace took a breath, and a thought occurred to her. “How about some magic?” She asked.

Tria looked confused. “I thought you couldn’t do push magic?”

“Ah!” said Mace. “But it isn’t magic…or is it?” She flashed a coin before Tria’s eyes. “I bet you I can make this coin disappear!”

Tria leaned back, “Ok, show me what you can do.”

Mace placed the coin under a glass, and the glass under a napkin. It was the old disappearing glass trick. Keep the audience’s eyes on the coin while you make the cup vanish. Great at parties and dinner dates, though Mace lacked experience with either.

Hands sweating, she flourished one and gripped the cup with the other. In the most theatrical voice she could summon, she said “I shall now make this coin vanish before you!” The coin didn’t disappear, which was a part of the trick.

“Must be a faulty coin,” said Mace, trying to covertly drop the glass into her lap. She knew as soon as it hit her legs that something went wrong. Her thighs were too skinny, her hoses too slippery. The cup rolled off her lap and onto the floor.

What happened next proved to Mace that the universe wasn’t uncaring. It seemed to care a lot about humiliating her.

In the span of a few split seconds, Mace panicked, leaned over to grab the glass before Tria could see, Tria asked if this was a part of it, the owner served their drinks at that very moment, tripped on Mace’s arm, and spilled both drinks all over Tria.

The cafe was dead quiet. All eyes bored into Mace’s soul, except for Tria’s which were wide and fixed on the coffee quickly absorbing into her dress.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” Mace shouted. What she wanted to say next was “Let me help you clean your clothes,” but the words were so desperate to escape the embarrassment that they fumbled over each other on the way out.

“Let me help you out of those clothes!” said Mace instead.

“Excuse me?”

Mace’s face went red. “I- I mean…what I meant was…”

Tria put a hand up. “It’s fine.” She turned to the owner, who managed to spill most of the drinks on Tria. “Vin ou éthanol, s’il vous plait. Je suis magique et je peux nettoyer les taches.”

The owner nodded and fetched some vinegar from the kitchen. Mace tried to look anywhere but Tria. Her face was bright red, and her sweat decided it no longer wanted to be associated with her, and poured out through her arms.

Dabbing some vinegar on her dress, Tria held her hands over the stain and breathed out. The stains dissolved.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen magic used to clean stains,” said Mace.

Tria smiled at her. “Yeah! It’s a little trick I learned from…um…the headmaster,” she finished.

That’s right, thought Mace. I’m now on a date with my uncle’s favorite. It was now Tria’s turn to look at anything but Mace.

“Yeah,” said Mace softly. “He likes to teach. He’s the one who taught me that cup trick.” Tria gave her a little smile.

They were silent for a little while. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Whenever school rivals wasted, it was a wild night of adventure and romance. Or at least that’s how it was in the books. But Mace wouldn’t exactly call them “dating”, not after that. Would Tria think the same? If Tria stood up and wanted to just be friends, Mace wouldn’t fault her for that.

Tria stood up and said “Welp.”

Mace prepared for the worst.

“I think maybe we should get fresh air. Down by the river?” she asked, putting out her hand.

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Mace was stunned. “S-sure!” Mace took the hand and held on for dear life.

They strolled by the river, fireflies casually gliding along the surface. The date couldn’t get any worse out here.

“And that was the third time my father threatened to leave us,” said Mace. Well not any more awkward than that.

“Wow I’m… sorry you had to deal with that,” said Tria. She didn’t seem to dislike where the conversation took them. She seemed genuine.

“Yeah well, I still had mom. And uncle Yufe,” said Mace. She casually picked up a stone and tossed it in the river.

“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” Tria offered. “But that doesn’t excuse how he treated you.”

Mace nodded. “Oh I’m certain he loves me, it’s just the liking part I’m struggling with.

That got a little laugh out of Tria.

“I guess I’m the lucky one. You had to grow up in that orphanage.”

Tria shrugged at that. “It wasn’t all that bad, and I only spent a year and half there. Honestly my earliest memories are from when I was on the road.”

Mace looked at her. “Do you…need or want to talk about it?” she ventured.

“Not much to say. I was brought to the counties by a small peddler group. Apparently they caught me playing with their unsold toys and dumped me off at the first chance they got.”

“I’m…sorry,” Mace didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s alright, I’ve replaced those memories with mom and dad, er- Aya and Gorganthal.”

Mace smiled at that and held Tria’s hand a little tighter.

They finally found a spot where the brook wasn’t so babbling and the mosquitos were bearable. It would be appropriate for romantic spots like this one to be described poetically. Which is to say, described in a very unhelpful way. The moon could have been said to be “smiling down at the river’s mirror-like surface in the warm summer night”. Except the moon didn’t have a face so you couldn’t read its emotions. It was actually feeling a bit of heartburn at the moment, but that’s a story for another time. For now, the spot Mace and Tria sat down in could be described as like the first night of summer vacation.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Tria.

“Hm, dangerous business.”

Tria smirked. “About you! For someone who doesn’t have any magic, you sure know how to weave a spell.”

Mace scoffed “Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well, for one, you picked the most enchanting spot in the river. And two, you’ve completely charmed me,” said Tria, fluttering her lashes.

Mace blushed. “You’re the one who transfigured a bad date into a… an ok one.”

“I do know one spell you can do to make this date perfect,” said Tria, inching closer to Mace.

“What?”

Tria took Mace’s arm and wrapped it around her shoulder.

It was nearly midnight when they walked back into town. Mace still had her arm wrapped around Tria and still in disbelief. So that’s what dates were like.

“I’ll probably head back to the Kelpiewood,” said Tria. “Maybe you could stop by tomorrow? Of course, not before we finish the night off right,” said Tria, her face leaning into hers.

Mace had no words, no clever comebacks, her tongue in knots. That was strange, she had never been around anyone who took her words away.

Mace closed her eyes, Tria closed hers. They leaned in and-

“Tria Durana?” came a voice.

A way too bright lantern half blinded the pair.

“Yes?” Tria answered.

As her eyes adjusted, Mace could make out the glinting smudge of a police badge. There were a lot of smudges. A squad of Cobpleton watch officers stood there. The lead one, a pudgy man who reminded Mace of the mayor, held up a pair of shoes. They looked vaguely familiar.

“Are these your shoes?” he asked.

Tria studied them, then her eyes lit up. “I thought I’d lost those!” she said. “Where did you find them?”

Mace figured out where they found them half a second too late.

“At the office of Doctor Elbert Gasparian. Tria Durana you are under arrest for the murders of Cornsilk the Wizard and Doctor Gasparian.”

“W-what?” asked Tria, half smiling. Watchmen started to circle. “This is a joke, right?”

If it was a joke, no one was laughing. Tria’s face went from confused, to shock, to panic. “I haven’t killed anyone!” she protested.

Mace looked on because that’s all she could do. She froze, and was ashamed she froze. Her mother would be ashamed of her. Her anti-authority mother didn’t name her Bear Mace to freeze at the first sight of blue. And yet she still froze. She couldn’t speak or move, but she could think.

The first thought that Mace thought was ‘good’. Good? Mace was so shocked at this thought that she didn’t notice the second one. Little miss perfect student is finally going to get taken down a notch. What in the hells was that? It was a little voice that told her ‘She was the reason you got kicked out of school’. Mace couldn’t understand what she was thinking. Tria just took her on her best/only date, and she was going to let her get arrested?

‘You know that little perfect Tria is going to get off scot free. Why not let her sweat a bit?’ The thoughts suggested. They seemed to come out of nowhere. Except, they didn’t come from nowhere, she knew exactly where they came from.

Her brain was like Munth. Dig deep enough and you’d hit darkness. But dig further and you get to the core. White, hot, angry. Burning under the pressure of a father who never liked her much less loved her. From an uncle who loved her then tossed her away. From a whole world which made her feel worthless without magic. But that wasn’t true either. No one had forced her to become a wizard. There were plenty of exceptional people in the world without magic. Mace’s molten core was thin, it lifted to reveal what Mace was, what she had always been. An arrogant, lying cheater. Who bullied others to make herself feel better. She was Mace Perovay, disappointment.

A little voice in her head whispered to her. ‘You’ll never do magic’ it said. ‘Never do anything. But maybe, you could make sure Tria doesn’t either.

“Mace!” Tria shouted.

She was shaken from her thoughts. Tears streamed down Tria’s perfect face.

“You know me! You know I would never do this!” she pleaded.

Mace didn’t say anything.

“Mace please!” She took Mace’s hands and held on for dear life.

Mace gave her a flat, dead look. “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

Tria looked at her like her heart was about to shatter.

“I mean don’t say anything to the cops, finished Mace. She put her hands on Tria’s shoulders and locked eyes. “Do not talk with anyone wearing a badge. Cooperate just enough, but don’t make their job easier. We’re going to get your father, Archwizards still have authority, even in court. We’ll get you out of this.”

Tria sniffed and wiped her eyes. Mace, out of view of the town guard, slipped out of her sleeve.

“Universal handcuff key, just in case,” she whispered. “Guards hate having to keep track of things, so they get one key for everything. Keep it in your cheek.”

“Hank shoo,” Tria tried to say. She wasn’t used to metal in her mouth.

Mace shrugged. “Never thought it would be used for anyone but myself-“

Tria kissed Mace.

There was no magic on Munth, nor in the universe or any universe that could match that kiss.

After an eternity, Tria pulled away. Mace was stunned.

“Sorry, was that your first?” asked Tria.

It was m, but Mace had to play it cool. “Aaaaaaooouuueeeh?”

The guard sighed. “Now isn’t that the most heartwarming thing you ever saw?” A chorus of agreement came from the gathered posse. “Anyway… book her.”

Two guards took Tria by either shoulder and started to lead her away. Another stood like a wall between her and Mace.

“I’ll get you out of this!” Mace called.

Tria turned her head and smiled. “I know.”

Before Mace could even think she was running. First, to Ringabell. He was groggy and asleep when he took flight. Mace had awoken him, shouting something she hoped would be coherent enough.

“Tria was just arrested, get Gorganthal!”

Then she ran. Kicking up dust, tears stinging her eyes. It all came out as she ran. Tears, shame for what she had thought about Tria, and years of pent anger. Raw fury at herself, released as she pounded the road. She couldn’t do magic, she couldn’t be a wizard. She couldn’t help with fighting monsters. She couldn't even save Tria, she had to rely on others to know the legal system better. But she could run, she could shout. She could raise hell about the injustice of it all.

She alone alone couldn't save the world, save Tria. But she could run, and would always run towards the danger.

It was getting rather late at Ye Olde Roadhouse. Thistle felt her eyes droop. She had been trying to catch up on magic while Mace and Tria were on their date. Ruffo’s 9th Grade Magic was still confusing, but her lessons with Mace allowed her to parse some of it. At least she understood the really boring bits.

Thistle gave into temptation, and closed her eyes for just a moment.

The door slammed open! Thistle bolted awake and stood, the book spilling to the floor.

It was Mace, panting.

“Wh- “

“It’s Tria!” said Mace, gulping in air between words.

Thistle gawked. “W-what?!” She clambered over the ottoman to Mace. She was soaking in sweat and…was her face stained with tears?

“We… gotta go… now. She’s been arrested, they think she killed Cornsilk and the doctor!”

Thistle froze. The memory came back. Her eyes unfocused.

“I’ve… already…sent word to Gorganthal. If we…can get down there, we can- I don’t know, serve as character witnesses?”

Thistle didn’t respond, she couldn’t.

Mace looked at her, finally catching her breath. “Are you alright?”

Thistle stared at the ground and felt her throat tighten.

“Thistle?”

Don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t- but she felt her knees buckle. The tears she’d been trying to hold back flowed out. She tried to let out a cry, but it was choked.

“Thistle? What’s wrong?!” Mace kneeled down and put a hand on her shoulder.

Thistle struggled to speak, struggled to focus. She put all her strength into her next words.

“Th-they have the wrong person!”

Mace looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

Her strength wouldn’t be enough for her next words, so she summoned every ounce of will.

“Because I killed Cornsilk,” she finally confessed.