When Brendan left for the hospital to visit his sister, Nicolas remained behind to tidy up the townhome he and Bren were renting. It was a simple two-story with a loft,  two bedrooms, a large bath, and a full kitchen. With their primary focus on their studies, the boys didn't need much else. However, this didn’t stop Bren from bringing home a girl once in a while for a drink or two. To Nick's relief, things didn’t usually go beyond that. He knew Bren was looking for someone, but seeing the guy settle into domestic life was hard.

Nick shook his head as he cleaned. Honestly, he didn’t mind Brendan’s dates. Bren had been his friend for a few years now. So he hoped he’d find the girl he was looking for and not fall for a pretty face like Nicolas had in high school. 

He scowled as he wrung out the rag he used to wash the counters. That had been a rough year. He’d been enjoying the company of a red-headed girl, finding common interests in their conversations. However, when he finally asked her out to catch a movie together, she said she had a different love interest. She claimed she didn’t want to break the friendship, though Nicolas answered he didn’t want to get in the way, so the friendship faded anyway. 

Bren had helped him get back on his feet, letting him stay at his place on the weekends doing nothing but play video games, trade Pokémon, and forget about the heartbreak. Nick smiled at the memories. During those days, his persona of the “Ice Prince of Wales” had more or less melted thanks to the court jester of the school. He shook his head, recalling the nickname fondly as he put on a kettle for tea. If he was the Ice Prince of Wales, that made Bren the court jester in most cases. Especially after that breakup. Bren was the only one who could get him to smile after that.

Another perk of the tiny home was less to keep tidy, which Nicolas preferred. Growing up with people who did this for him made a large house seem daunting. So this little one suited the two bachelors well. 

Soon, the smell of chamomile and lavender filled the home, giving it a cozy feeling he usually only found in books and stories. It was like some magic had entered the house and settled there. 

Finally, a knock came to the door. Taking a deep breath and straightening his shirt, Nick answered. On the other side was a lovely woman, her hair in a tight bun, her makeup subtle but gave her an air of importance and no-nonsense. She wore a white blouse and black skirt, her shoes matching flats. Around her neck, she wore a polished amethyst pendant. Nicolas knew this pendant well. His mother rarely took it off, and he’d seen her fidgeting in court. She was a lawyer and a damn good one at that. Nearly all cases she took on she won, and those she left to others often cost those lawyers money. 

She smiled at her son, her blue eyes matching his. “Nicolas.” 

“Hello, mother,” Nicolas answered, smiling back and stepping aside. “Please, come in. I have tea ready, and while the cookies are store-bought, they should do.”

“Cookies?” Mrs. Griffin asked as she came in. “Nicolas, you sound more American every time I see you.” 

Nicolas chuckled. “You can thank Brendan for that. He’s as American as they come.” 

He led her to the living area, really only a few steps from the front door, and went to get the tea tray. “I trust your flight was comfortable?” He called, mainly to keep the conversation going. 

“Oh, quite,” Mrs. Griffin answered. “Thankfully, the turbulence wasn’t as rough as last time, and the city is quite the sight to drive through.” 

“I suggest you see Colorado Springs,” Nicolas suggested as he came walking back to the living room, tray in hand, as he set it on the coffee table and poured his mother a cup. Well, a mug. “The mountains are quite the sight and easier to see without the buildings in the way.”

“I’ll see if my schedule will allow a visit.” Mrs. Griffin replied, though she held a dismissive tone. Nicolas knew his mother wasn’t fond of the outdoors. 

Much like himself, she preferred the indoors, though more like his father, Nicolas did respect the outdoors. Both of his parents had a deep respect for the Old Ways, though they didn’t participate. His father grew up on the border of Britain and Scotland, where he heard tales of Fey Folk and that disrespecting them caused strife in one's household. His mother had grown up in Scotland and claimed her family was from a long line of mystic things. She even claimed her great-grandmother was favored by a Fey Prince, which led to her family’s comfortable lifestyle. 

Nicolas loved these stories and often sought them out as a boy. However, he never found a trace of magic. Not one curious stone, a single toadstool, or a ring of them. 

The two sat quietly for a moment, their relationship through Nicolas’ life having been… strained. Yes, she loved him, and he knew she loved him. But there was always a distance that neither could overcome. Finally, Mrs. Griffin set her mug of tea down. “It’s hard to believe you’re twenty-three already.” 

Nick smiled. “I know, I find it hard to believe at times myself.” he said, holding his mug in his lap for the time being. 

“Well, it’s time I gave you something.” his mother continued. “I should have given it to you on your twenty-first birthday, but I don’t trust the mailing system for this.”

She reached behind her neck and unclasped the amethyst pendant. She momentarily held it in her hand, looking into the smooth surface and the facets within before holding it out to Nicolas. 

“Your pendant?” Nick asked as he carefully accepted it and looked at it, turning it slightly to watch the light reflect off it. 

“As you may know, it’s a family heirloom.” Mrs. Griffin explained. “It’s been passed from firstborn to firstborn in my family for generations. My grandfather said that it goes back as far as the Dark Ages. It’s given our family much and helped me in my career, so I hope it continues to be prosperous for you as well.”

Nick looked at the pendant, feeling a cold tingle in his fingers. “Mother, I appreciate the gift, but-“

Mrs. Griffin raised a hand and shook her head, silencing Nick. “It’s yours now. It should have become yours on your twenty-first birthday, so it’s a bit late in getting to you, and as our only son, it’s yours by right.” 

Nicolas looked at his mother and then back at the pendant. It was so… gaudy. It looked like it should have been made into a broach. Or perhaps it was, but the broach part broke and thus became a necklace instead. 

“I’m not superstitious, Mother,” Nick explained. “How can a pendant give prosperity?”

Mrs. Griffin looked at the pendant and then turned to the window as if seeing something move there. She took a slow breath before smiling at Nicolas. “You’ll soon see,” she answered, her soft features almost glowing. “Just know what you want from life, and always keep it on you.” 

Nick raised an eyebrow at her, then back at the pendant. If nothing else, he could use it as a fidget toy when studying. He sighed and nodded. “Thank you very much for the gift, Mother,” he said. 

His mother stood, prompting Nick to stand as well, and she embraced him. As he awkwardly returned it, he heard his mother whisper. 

“May you find what you seek. And may you know the price of what you want.” 

He blinked at her curiously, but she pulled away with a smile. “I’d love to stay longer, Nicolas, but I’m needed elsewhere. A client of mine wants to discuss an upcoming court date.” 

“I understand,” Nicolas answered as he walked her to the door. “I hope it goes well for you.” 

“As do I.” Mrs. Griffin answered as she collected her purse and stepped out the door. She looked back at her son and gave another warm smile. “I look forward to seeing your life unfold.” 

With that, she waved and stepped away to call an Uber. 

Nicolas watched her go and lifted the palm that still held the pendant. What was that, she said? Why did it sound ominous? He turned the pendant in his hand a couple more minutes before stepping back inside. An Heirloom, huh? If it helped his mother become the excellent lawyer she is today, there may be some merit. But at the same time, he wasn’t superstitious. After all the disappointing searches through the Scottish Highlands, he’s come to terms with magic being only found in books and wives' tales. 

All the same, he sighed as he went up to his room and tossed the pendant onto his bed. He could think about that later. Right now, he has studies to work on. He sat at his desk and turned on the light, having brought up the tea from downstairs to finish while he worked.

* * *

“Hi, I’m here to visit Abigale Books,” Brendan said once the desk clerk at the Children’s Colorado Hospital. It was a cheerful place, though Brendan knew it was far from a cheerful place.

The clerk nodded and smiled as she tapped away on her computer, looking down her nose through a pair of reading glasses. “She’s in room 502,” the clerk answered after squinting and scrolling. 

“Thanks,” Brendan answered, briskly moving toward the elevator. As the elevator ascended, Brendan’s mind wandered a little. When his sister developed Cardiomyopathy, it scared everyone. And when the doctors said Abby wasn’t a good candidate for a heart transplant, the whole house had gone quiet for two months. The doctors did everything they could whenever Abby was back in the hospital, but the results were often the same. 

Bing! Fifth Floor.

Brendan jumped from the elevator’s chime but quickly walked out to find Abby’s room. He kept his eyes down so he couldn’t see into the other rooms he passed. Brendan never liked hospitals one little bit; He was sure a reaper was waiting around every corner, just out of sight. 

That is until he found room 502. Smiling, he knocked on the door. 

“Yeah?” Came the voice of his fifteen-year-old Sister. 

Brendan cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “Uh yeah, I have a delivery of one dash of sunshine for a… Aubrey Brooks?” he called. 

He smiled at hearing Abby laugh. “Aubrey’s out, but I’ll take the delivery.” 

Brendan opened the door, glad to see his sister smiling. She looked okay, but he knew too much excitement would upset her heart’s rhythm. Her brown hair was brushed, and her green eyes were bright compared to her pale complexion. “I thought you’d be coming on the weekend,” she told him. 

“I heard you were back in the slammer, so I thought I’d visit early,” Brendan answered as he shrugged off the backpack and sat beside Abby. “So, whatcha in for this time?” 

“Oh, you know,” Abby answered. “The usual. Ticker’s tocking rather than ticking. It’s pretty much routine by now.” 

“Lousy routine,” Brendan answered. “So, I brought some boredom breakers and mood lifters.” 

He dug into his bag and produced a Nintendo Switch. “I added a new game I think you’ll like, so let me know what you think after I kick your butt at Smash Bros.”

Abby smiled and accepted the game. “Thanks Bren! Oh, this will help against that boredom.” She told him. She looked at her brother, and her smile turned into a lopsided grin and a quirked eyebrow. “A man-bun? Seriously?” 

“What?” Brendan asked, laughing as well. “It’s cool!” 

“It makes you look like a hippy,” Abby told him. 

“Hippies have their hair down. So there.” Brendan teased, sticking his tongue out at her. “Besides, girls love man buns.” 

“I’m a girl, and I don’t,” Abby answered. “But I bet I could fix that.” 

She motioned him closer and grabbed the brush from her side table before undoing the man bun and brushing out her big brother’s hair. “How’s college?”

“Dull,” Brendan answered. “But it makes Mom and Dad happy. Just glad I got in with a track scholarship.” 

“Is it something that makes you happy, though?” Abby asked as she started tugging the locks on the side of Bren’s head into a Dutch braid. 

“Not really, but you know how Dad is,” Brendan answered. “‘You need a college education to be a respectable young man, Brendan. Keep your feet on the ground and your nose in a book.’”

“Yeah, I know,” Abby answered. “He means well, though.” 

“I know. He’s stressed, that’s all.” Bren answered with a shrug. 

“But you should do what you love to do,” Abby told him. 

“That would be drawing and painting,” Bren answered. “And that is a hard field to get into.” 

“So? You’re good!” Abby answered. “You told me you sold some pieces a while ago.” 

“Yeah, but it’s inconsistent,” Brendan answered. “It helps make ends meet, but not a living.” 

“Yet,” Abby commented, finishing his sentence for him. She started tying in the man bun again, focusing on her work momentarily. “After all, your art reminds people that not everything is dreary. There’s… magic to be found.” 

Brendan chuckled. “You’re just saying that because I painted you as a fairy princess for your thirteenth birthday.” 

“And it’s still hanging in my room,” Abby answered. “We all need to remember the good things. And that’s what artists do. And that’s what you’re amazing at. So if anything, make this degree work for you, rather than you work for it.”

Brendan chuckled. “Thou art wise for fifteen.” 

“That’s because I’m the little sister,” Abby answered. “I remind you what’s what. There, that looks better.” 

Brendan lifted a hand and touched the braid, smiling. “From hippy to viking. I like it.” 

“No, just a stylish hippy.” Abby teased. “Vikings have beards.” 

“Hey, I can grow a beard! See? Stubble!” He answered, pointing at his chin. 

Abby looked, then rubbed her thumb on his chin. “Nope, dust.” 

“Oh, them fighting words, Abs.” Brendan teased. 

“Are they?” Abby teased back. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Hippy?”

“Beat you at Smash,” Brendan answered. 

“Oh, you’re on!” Abby answered, laughing as Brendan got the game set up. 

The two played for hours, Brendan using Icarus and Abby playing Zelda. After long school days, they both forgot they were in a hospital room, playing like they were grade schoolers and high schoolers again. Brendan smiled as he won a couple of rounds, but he groaned when Abby beat him in the last round of the game. Soon, a knock came to the door, and the doctor stepped in. 

“Hey, kids, visiting hours are ending,” he said warmly while watching the two siblings play. 

“Aww,” the two answered, though Brendan got up. 

Brendan smiled and handed Abby one more gift. “I’ll be back again soon, ‘kay Abs?” He promised. 

Abby looked at the picture, finding it was a sketch of her as a fairy, sitting on a sunflower. She smiled and nodded at him. “You’d better be,” she answered, holding up the picture. “You still need to sign this.” 

“Oh, I’d better be back then, with a fancy pen,” Bren answered, shouldering his bag and stepping out, though he swallowed a lump forming in his throat. Leaving his sister here, but she was being cared for here, that was the important part. 

It was a long drive back to the house, and it was late when he got home. Exhausted, Bren went up to his room, dropping his bag by the easel that held his latest commission, a dwarven cavern with glowing gems and a few dwarves scattered around the space, a fiery furnace in the back of the cavern casting light for them to work by. Brendan lay on his bed and looked at the painting, already spotting things he could improve. He looked at the painting for a long while, thinking about Abby back in the hospital. His throat tightened, and his eyes burned. The list for a heart transplant to match her blood type was long. There was no telling when a heart would come up. On top of all the screenings to make sure she was healthy enough for a new heart, it made his own pound like a heavy hammer against his chest. His vision pulsed with each beat, and he clenched the blankets into a fist. 

Rolling to face the wall, he closed his eyes and let worried tears fall. He didn’t want to lose his sister. But every time she had to go back to the hospital, it made him worry a little more. Eventually, the tears finally slowed and sleep overtook him, pulling him down into a dreamless dark.