Winter arrived, and it was a pain. For everyone.

  Clearing snow turned into an infinite quest with zero progress. Shovel it today—it’s back in the same spot tomorrow. Melt it with magic—an hour later the drifts are even higher. Eventually, I gave up and built specialized snow-removal golems; let the stone compete with the precipitation. I was too afraid to change the climate radically—nature is a vengeful thing, and you can easily get slapped with a hundred-year drought as payback for stunts like that.

  The children didn't care. Like tiny immortal tanks, they plowed through the blizzards to get to their school. Thank goodness for our horses—ordinary ones would have simply drowned in that slush, but these beasts pushed right through.

  December was already breathing down our necks. We were stuck inside, trapped by yet another storm. The kids stayed in the living room; outside, it howled so loudly that even the golems were starting to frost over.

  Suddenly, there was a knock on the glass.

  Alastor and Aya traded glances and called for me. I walked to the window and froze. In the reflection of the glass, I saw not only myself, but her.

  Lucia.

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  Before I could even say "hello," she scooped me up in her arms and hoisted me off the ground. My spine gave a pathetic crack, reminding me that this body is only fifteen and Lucia never knows her own strength.

  — "It’s been so long!" she beamed.

  I helped her shake off the snow and led her into the house.

  — "Meet everyone. This is Aya and Alastor. And these are their children—Erol, Yara, and Tizor."

  Lucia squinted slyly, surveying my "family."

  — "Right, right, right," she drawled. "I’d be happy to play along with your games."

  She pulled gifts from her bottomless bag. Seeds for exotic flowers from every corner of the world (clearly for Aya and her gardening obsession) and something I stared at like the Holy Grail: a box of chocolates. And not just any candies, but those ones—the obscenely expensive kind from the Sultanate’s private stores.

  We sat at the table.

  — "So, you're Erol, you're Yara, and you're little Tizor?" Lucia gave the kids a cheerful wink.

  — "Yes," they answered in chorus. "And who are you... to Greg?"

  Lucia looked at me and, without asking for permission, rested her palm on the crown of my head.

  That was it. My brain immediately catapulted into a state of pure bliss. I slid off the chair and rested my head on her lap.

  — "I'm just an old friend of his," she said, running her fingers through my hair. "A very old one. We’ve known each other a long time, kids. So long that numbers don't even matter anymore."

  I was already half-asleep, feeling her cool fingers. A lively conversation started up in the living room: Aya was asking about other countries, the kids were showing off their toys, and Lucia laughed, filling the house with a light it had long forgotten.