The ocean is stunning at night. The sky is pink, and Sage could watch the sunset every day. It makes them feel peaceful and relaxed, and it’s a great place to meditate. Sage used to come out here with Rio, to sit by the shore and enjoy the sunset. They did this in Florida sometimes, too, though the distance was further, and the sunset was later.

Autumn is the best time to do magic. Sage finds it enlightening to visit a cemetery and dwell on the fragility of life, or perform spells for new beginnings, or sit outside in the dark. For whatever reason, they’ve always felt at home in the dark. Sage didn’t always believe in reincarnation. A few years ago, they didn’t know what to believe. Rio always talks about how comforted he is by the thought of being reborn: it’s calming, and it takes the fear out of death. Maybe for him. Sage is still afraid to die. They think any logical person would be.

Sage has decided to call themself Sloan City, and has a personal reason for this. Their middle name is Sloan. Sage has been checking the sales of the album they uploaded – an album called Holographs. It feels overwhelming and hard, but exciting, and something they can’t accomplish without the help of their father. Amani is a good manager. He’s prepared, confident, and he knows what’s best for Sage. Every parent claims they know their children more than anyone. In Sage's case, this is actually true. Since uploading their first album, Sage has made five hundred sales in America. With each album selling for twenty five dollars, they’re not struggling. Some days, they even buy groceries for their family, or presents for their friends, or lunch for strangers. It feels good to help others. They don’t think they’ll go back to school, even though everyone else in the family has been to college. Everyone’s path is different, and there’s no use comparing them.

Sage stresses about being vulnerable. It’s uncomfortable to be known, and Sage would prefer to spend their whole life hiding from the spotlight. Today, Sage celebrates their eighteenth birthday.

In Celtic tradition, handfasting is the act of tying a couple’s hands together with rope, using specific colors to represent the goals of the unity. These are common in Wicca; Sage's parents had a Handfasting ceremony as part of their wedding twenty something years ago. If Sage were ever to get married, they would probably have one too. On its own, a Handfasting isn’t legally binding, and was originally used to prepare a couple for marriage. A year later, if they were still together and interested in being married, they could follow through with a legal ceremony. These days, most Pagans just include a Handfasting in their wedding ceremony. This is what Rio did. It’s strange. Rio is the last person in the world Sage would expect to get hitched.

“I might move overseas,” said Rio, late last night. “I’m bored of Alaska, and I’m tired of Ivo being miserable.” That’s so Rio: abandoning something when it isn’t interesting anymore, with no consideration of how it will affect other people. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like Sage will miss him, anyway.

“Hi, everyone.” Sage stands on a small stage in Anchorage, holding their mandolin under one arm. Amani arranged this show, and Sage is nervous. There’s a small group of people here; truthfully, Sage expected none. In order to be successful, you need to advertise yourself, and this can be intimidating and hard. Sage could never do it without their family. “Uh – I’m Sloan City. I’m going to play you a song I wrote called Holographs.” It feels weird, speaking like this in front of a group of people, even if it isn’t a large group. Most people are here out of curiosity. Others, like Amani and Aspen, are here to support Sage.

Sage wrote their first song ten years ago, at the age of eight. It was a terrible song, but their parents encouraged them to share, and to keep writing, and so they did. This morning, Sage made friends with a couple: Ruby and Victor, who are locals. They approached them at this very auditorium, the one in which they sit right now to listen, and asked if Sage was who they thought they were. It was uncomfortable and odd, and made Sage feel like a celebrity. Ruby had bought their album, she said, and listened to it everyday. Sage's social media isn’t hard to find. Sloan City is becoming recognizable, somehow.

Ruby is twenty years old, and works as a waitress in Anchorage. She’s lived here her whole life, so she’s used to the climate, and never dresses for the weather. Neither does Sage. But while Ruby always underdresses, Sage is always cold, and doesn’t leave the house without layers of baggy clothing. “You did amazing,” Ruby says, meeting Sage after the show, which wasn’t very long. They’ve gained some more attention, which was the whole idea. “Your songs sound even better in person.”

“Oh, uh-” Amani joins Sage, smiling fondly at their new friends. The man smiles at everyone. Despite this, people still treat him as though he’s dangerous. “I taught myself using tutorial videos.” Music is the only thing that Sage is good at. It helps, having a hobby, being good at something. Sage doesn’t think they’re the world’s best musician, by any means. If people want to listen to their music, that’s good enough. Even if it’s only ten people, that’s good enough. They shrug, feeling hungry and shy. “Do you guys maybe want to come out for lunch with my dad and I?” The reality is, after leaving Anchorage, Sage will likely never speak to Ruby again.

When Sage first met Ruby, she asked if they were a boy or a girl, and Sage said no. But no one ever seems satisfied by this answer, because nobody can accept anything outside the binary. People need labels, answers, to feel comfortable, even if their comfort puts someone else at risk. Having no gender is hardest when it comes to public washrooms, or clothing stores, or leaving the house. How can all of society be thrust into such narrow categories? People aren’t robots. They’re not dolls, used to be dressed and played with in any way somebody else sees fit. It isn’t fair, to force everybody into small boxes, to ostracize them when they don’t fit inside. Boxes aren’t for people. It’s hard to find clothing that isn’t marketed for one sex or another. Sage does most of their clothes shopping online, or in local thrift stores that support androgynous fashion. Around here, that’s little to nothing.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Aspen hasn’t been home in several weeks. She decided to drop out of high school, and go to stay with Sage, and nobody says a thing. When Sage returns to the hotel their father has booked, Aspen sits lazily on the floor, a pile of notebooks at her feet. “I don’t know.” Aspen says she’s done with boys. Late at night, Sage finds her curled up in a ball, staring into space. “Once, I thought I was.”

Every morning, Aspen speaks to her brother on the phone. She says, aside from Sage, he’s the only one who cares about her. “Sometimes I wish I could experience it.” It’s always warm in Sage's house. It reminds them of home.

It’s hard to write a song. Sage writes about normal things: family, religion, identity, and their sister. Song-writing began as a way of journaling, giving Sage a healthy outlet to work through things. It’s a lot easier to write things down than it is to talk about them. It’s weirdly personal and uncomfortable to share these things with strangers, but Sage kind of likes this. They need to be more open, more vulnerable, and to let people in who are good for them.

Aspen shifts uncomfortably, dropping bits of the cracker she munches on. Since leaving home, she cut her hair into a blunt bob, and it aged her. “You’ve never loved anyone before?”

Aspen isn’t very much younger than Sage. Some days, she seems like an old woman. “I love lots of people.” Sage's kitten isn’t a kitten anymore. Heka naps a lot, and doesn’t like strangers. “I just don’t fall in love.” Sage used to think there was nothing to life if not for love. Most of the time, it’s better to be alone than to spend time with someone who makes you miserable. People get lonely, and they crave human interaction, and sometimes they become so desperate they’ll let terrible people in just so they don’t have to be alone.

There’s more to love than just romance, Rio said once. He was always the type of person to date around a lot, but never really fall in love. Companions don’t have to be romantic. Most people are afraid of being alone. When all of Sage's friends started dating, they would pretend to be interested in people, too.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

After Cassia’s death, Sage's parents got her fingerprints painted on the walls. These stayed behind, like everything else, when the family left home. For several years after this, Sage was reminded of her by almost everything.

“I wish I didn’t fall in love.” Aspen frowns, picking at her fingernails. She dresses in clothing Sage's grandmother would call “tasteless”, and she usually acts older than she is. “You’re lucky. You’ll never get a broken heart.” Sage has heard this before. They will never fall in love with someone who doesn’t reciprocate, or be left broken-hearted by a bad relationship. Sage could hurt in different ways. There are all kinds of love, and all kinds of ways to be heartbroken.

“My brother says being in love is torture.” Even if you’re loved in return. Even if it makes you the happiest you’ve ever been. If that’s true, what’s the point of falling in love at all?

“He’s right.” Aspen uses her phone a lot. She says no one ever texts her except for her brother. “It’s the worst kind of torture there is.”

The theory of love doesn’t make any sense. Sage is beginning to suspect that nothing does. “Then… why would anyone want it?” They remember middle school and high school, listening to Rio talk about all the people he loved who didn’t love him back - and at the time, it seemed silly. Rio would say he loved people instantly, and Sage would argue that you can’t love someone you don’t know.

“Because sometimes it makes you feel good, and sometimes you meet someone who changes your life in ways you never imagined. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Aspen looks tired, and frowns deeply, so that her forehead wrinkles. “Do you ever hear your sister’s voice out of nowhere?”

Aspen says her sister’s been dead for nearly a year. Sage knows that the first year is always the hardest. They used to believe that pain went away with time, and that eventually, nothing would hurt anymore. This isn’t how pain works. Sometimes, even years after a loss, the pain swallows you whole.

Sage's house is filled with gemstones. Everywhere you look, there are gemstones. Sage's fathers were always very spiritual, even back in their home countries, which might seem strange. The altar gets decorated with many things: candles, athames, chalices, a wand. Most of these things remain here even when the Sabbats are completed. Growing up, Sage always had the choice to follow in the beliefs of their fathers, or to choose their own. Many people are not fortunate enough to have such understanding, supportive parents.

“I hear it all the time.”

Sage never understood people whose cheerful attitudes never wavered, even during the most traumatic times. Rio was always one of these people. He makes badly-timed jokes at the expense of others, and hurts other people’s feelings by doing so. When Sage and their brother were kids, Rio was scolded by their father, after making a tactless joke at Cassia’s funeral. You can’t turn everything into a joke. Some things can’t be laughed about. Rio used to hate the fact that his father was a shrink. He hated the obligations that came with this: daily emotional check-ins, regular scheduled family time. Years ago, he went through a phase that involved leaving the house as early as possible, and not returning until days later.

“Mostly I hear her voice when I’m upset, telling me it’ll all be okay, the way she used to.”

Cassia had an unusually deep understanding of other people. As young as she was, she was always the first to comfort people when they needed it, and she could always tell when someone was sad, even if they never said it out loud. Don’t be sad, Grier, Cassia would say, wrapping her short arms around Sage's legs. This was as high as she could reach. It will be okay. You have me.

Something about the innocence of young children makes Sage sad. Cassia had an innocence to her that even death couldn’t take away. Sometimes, late at night, Sage wonders what Cassia has been reborn into, or even if she’s been reborn at all. Cassia could be the little boy living down the street, or the cat that wanders the backyard early in the mornings, or a star shining brightly in the sky. Once in a while, Sage swears they hear Cassia speaking: clearly, as though she’s standing right in front of them.

“What do you think happens after you die? Do you think there’s an afterlife?”

It’s rare for Sage to open up to people. Growing up, they had to do it all the time, and after long enough, sharing everything made Sage feel as though nothing belonged to them. Some things don’t need to be shared. This is something Sage wishes their father would have realized earlier. It was always easier to write things than to say them. Sage doesn’t know anyone who would agree.

Sage was always interested in mythology. As a kid, instead of bedtime stories about talking animals and fairy tales, their parents told stories about the Faeries, and Valhalla, and mythological Deities. In childhood, they learned how to leave offerings to the deceased, and to cast spells - and so, Paganism and Witchcraft was always embedded into them. None of this was forced, as disapproving adults have tried to say. Sage loved learning about the things their parents believed in. During adolescence, when they turned temporarily away from spirituality and religion, nobody took it personally.

There are many versions and many names for the place that souls go after death. In Celtic mythology, the Otherworld is the realm of the deities, and maybe of the dead. It’s described as an elusive place, existing alongside our own realm, atop an island or underneath. In Welsh mythology, the Otherworld is called Annwn. In Chinese mythology, it’s called Tian. Sage can’t explain the comfort that comes with religion, although they’ve tried. Amani says it’s not their job to educate others.

It’s warm in the hotel room. Sage's parents haven’t yet returned from their date. Sage was the one to persuade them to go out in the first place.

Aspen shrugs. “My parents always said if I didn’t live a holy life, I wouldn’t get into Heaven. As a kid, I was scared that the smallest things would send me into eternal damnation.”

There’s always something to learn from others. Sage is fascinated by religion, and by the beliefs of other people. Their parents made certain they knew everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, and - as long as they’re not hurting anybody - it’s not our business to argue or claim otherwise. You could live an endless amount of lives, and still not be certain what happens after you die.

The thought of completely ceasing to exist someday is overwhelming. Sage is just one person, one small speck over millions of years of humanity, and billions of humans. When you really think about it, the possibility of one person changing the whole course of the planet is highly unlikely. Maybe it’s true what people say. No one will remember you when you die. You’ll die, and then it will be like you never existed at all.

“Are you scared of dying?”

Aspen fidgets, lying on her stomach on the floor of the hotel room, letting her feet wave in the air. She’s very open, although she wasn’t this way when Sage first met her. They wonder sometimes about Aspen’s upbringing, but never ask.

Sage fidgets, too. “Kind of. Are you?”

Sage misses Rio. No one ever knows when he’ll come around to visit. They text him every day, and he’s usually too busy to respond. At Sage's house, Aspen sleeps in Rio’s old bedroom. She seems at home here, and always wakes up in a cheerful mood. Sage supposes it’s nice to have company; their parents are always busy working, and being alone gets lonesome sometimes.

“I think everyone’s scared of dying. It’s just human nature to be, isn’t it?”

“My brother’s not afraid of dying.” Sage feels uncomfortable. There’s no reason to. “That’s what he says, anyway.”

Aspen never talks about going home. She showed up at Sage's house one day and asked to stay the night, and then she didn’t leave. Sage's fathers are hospitable men, but they let others take advantage of them. Sage has this tendency too. They could make everyone happy most of the time, and focus only on the one person who isn’t happy. This gets exhausting. This is impossible.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Aspen is Sage's only friend. To anyone else, this would be embarrassing to admit. “Sure.”

“Sometimes I’m convinced my sister isn’t actually dead.”

Sage doesn’t know much about Aspen’s relationship with her siblings. They’re not an expert on the inner workings of other people. When conversations get emotionally intimate or philosophical, Sage never knows how to respond.

“What if she’s not?”

Aspen falls silent. Outside, a small pile of snow has gathered on the windowsill.