Mr. Warner cast a weary glance at the crowd, which had once again fallen silent at the mention of fire. "There is no actual fire," he declared with exasperation.

The ancient woman beside him, unfazed by his attempts to quell the commotion, continued, "It is an actual fire, young man, burning within them—"

"There is no fire!" Mr. Warner shouted, waving his arms dismissively at the crowd that continued to stare with growing curiosity.

Ariel felt her face grow increasingly warm as realization dawned upon her. Wise Obasan.

"Your closed eyes may not be able to see the flames, but I—"

"There—"

"Wise Obasan can see them and will show all of Magnolia Midlands—"

"Is—"

"What cannot be put out, what will consume them if not revealed—"

"No—"

"I have decided upon my Chosen, and there will be no stopping this union."

The word "fire" died on the playwright’s lips. Red-faced and seemingly breathless, he stared at the old woman, disbelief etched in his features. "Your Chosen?"

A wide, slightly maniacal smile stretched across the woman’s face. Her keen, beady eyes shifted from the surprised playwright to the eager crowd. A dramatic hush had fallen over them; pairs of eager eyes watched as the old woman drew herself up with a regal air. "Yes...my Chosen."

Ariel shifted uncomfortably, her face nearly as red as Mr. Warner’s had been. She could almost feel the collective gaze of the crowd turning toward her.

Jasper and I are her Chosen.

Mr. Warner eyed Ariel with an odd expression before casting a brief, uncertain glance at Jasper, who stood just behind Wise Obasan’s shoulder. "Ahem, well, as I said...the theater is safe—let’s move along now."

The playwright might as well have been speaking to himself; a loud murmur erupted among those clustered outside the theater.

Ariel gripped Leroy's arm and edged behind him. Obliging her, the monk became her human shield. Amidst the buzz filling the air, Ariel heard her name being called out. Moments later, a panting John climbed the theater steps.

"I’m so glad I finally reached you," he said between breaths.

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Ariel peered out from behind the monk and was greeted not by a priest but by a cold bottle of water. It was the most welcome sight she could imagine. She had the bottle open and halfway gone before she noticed John smiling at her.

"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice still breathless.

The monk beside her reached down and took the bottle from her hand. "Yes, thank you," he said, polishing off the water. Ariel watched him with longing, thinking nostalgically of the coffee they had made just an hour ago. I could drink the whole pot.

With her thirst momentarily sated, Ariel found herself distracted from the events unfolding around her. The crowd around the theater began to thin, many walking away with their companions, whispering among themselves.

"Just how attention-starved were you as a child?" Taylor’s voice cut through the chaos. Ariel blinked and turned to see Taylor standing there, a mix of concern and annoyance on her face.

"We leave you alone for an hour, and the next thing we know, you're burning to death," the priestess continued, approaching Ariel and absently inspecting her.

The initial spark of anger within Ariel was quickly extinguished by the concern she could sense beneath Taylor’s words. "She wasn’t alone; I was there," Leroy interjected.

Taylor shot the monk a skeptical glance before turning her attention back to Ariel. "My point exactly."

Leroy’s eyebrows rose in offense. "You’re saying this is my fault?"

Taylor remained silent, her arms crossed as she steadied Ariel through a series of coughs.

"Oh, right, because I just love filling theaters with smoke and being dragged around by a crazed old woman," Leroy retorted, glaring at Taylor.

"What happened?" Ariel asked once she could breathe more easily.

"One moment I was reaching for your hand, and the next, I was being yanked down the hall. That crazy old loon has quite a grip."

Ariel watched as Leroy massaged his sensitive arm. "You mean Wise Obasan did all this?"

The monk nodded, casting a dark look at the ancient matchmaker. "I was disoriented. I tried to get back to you, but she gripped my shoulder with her bony fingers and wouldn’t let go. She held me captive until Mr. Warner stumbled upon us. That’s when I learned there wasn’t any real fire. She had lit all these satchels of brush and let the smoke fill the place."

Ariel suddenly felt a pang of guilt for the pain she had caused Leroy’s shoulder. Taylor crossed her arms, fixing the monk with an unimpressed look. "That woman has one foot in the grave, and you couldn’t fight her off?"

Leroy held his shoulder defensively. "Who said anything about a grave? With the grip she had, I’d say she has both feet well above ground."

Taylor arched an unconvinced eyebrow at him. "If you don’t believe me, have her read your palms again and be sure to mention the one foot in the grave thing," Leroy challenged with a smirk.

"Graves? Is everyone alright?" Mandy’s voice cut through the tension as she glided toward them.

"Yes, no thanks to Thompson here," Taylor replied, ignoring the look Leroy shot her.

Mandy’s blue eyes regarded Ariel with careful concern, her pink lips pursed. "You look no worse for wear, Kinsley. Were you able to find your way out okay?"

Ariel returned her rival's innocent look with a knowing glance, able to discern the unspoken question in Mandy’s tone. You mean did Jasper help me find my way...?

Enjoying Mandy’s discomfort, Ariel let her gaze drift to their boss. The medium followed her glance and met Ariel’s gaze. "I had some help," Ariel answered simply, locking eyes with her rival.

"That had nothing to do with a fully capable monk," Taylor interjected, examining her nails with determination to give Leroy grief for the rest of the case.

"Warner!" a voice suddenly called, breaking the mounting tension.