Page 3

“A ND THIS IS OUR TRANSFORMATION room, Ms. Greenwarth,” says Atlas, gesturing to a spacious area with enchanted mirrors and specialized equipment. “For werewolves, shapeshifters, and others who need a safe space during physical changes.”

My mother follows with reluctant interest as Atlas continues his tour of Fae Fitness. I waddle behind them, already exhausted despite the early hour. After three days of my mother’s “help”—which has mainly consisted of critical commentary on everything from my magical techniques to the way I fold towels—I suggested she might like to see Atlas’s gym, partly to get her out of the house, and partly in the desperate hope that seeing his successful business might improve her opinion of him.

So far, she remains determinedly unimpressed. “What exactly is that?” She points to a contraption that resembles a cross between a hammock and a spinning wheel.

“That’s for aerial yoga,” he says. “It allows practitioners to achieve deeper stretches and inversions with the support of the silk.”

“Looks dangerous.” My mother sniffs.

“It’s one of our safest offerings,” Atlas says with infinite patience. “The silks are enchanted to support ten times the weight of the user and automatically tighten if a fall is imminent.”

“And this frivolous activity improves one’s magic how, exactly?”

Atlas smiles, clearly unperturbed by her skepticism. “Aerial yoga increases circulation to the brain, which enhances mental clarity for spellcasting. It also strengthens the core, which, as any experienced witch knows, is essential for channeling magical energy.”

I catch the subtle implication that if my mother doesn’t know this, perhaps she’s not as experienced as she claims. By the tightening of her lips, I can tell she caught it too. I bite back a grin, realizing Atlas isn’t quite as unaffected as he seems.

“I’ve been casting complex spells for seventy years without hanging upside down like a bat,” she says sharply.

“And imagine how much more powerful those spells might have been with proper physical conditioning,” he says smoothly. “As Socrates said, ‘No citizen has a right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training.’”

“Socrates never had to push a baby out of his body,” I mutter, earning a snort of laughter from a passing dryad.

A sudden flutter of magic tickles my fingers, and I glance down to see small sparks dancing across my palms. These magical misfires have been happening more frequently as my due date has come and gone. Yesterday, I accidentally turned my nightstand into a tree stump at bedtime. It took nearly an hour to coax it back to its former state.

I discreetly try to shake away the sparks, but they only intensify, leaping between my fingers like tiny fireworks. A nearby rack of enchanted dumbbells begins to rattle ominously. Atlas notices immediately and steps between me and my mother, who has her back turned.

“Perhaps we should move on to the herbal refreshment bar,” he suggests loudly, using his broad body to shield my magical light show from my mother’s view. “They’ve just gotten in a rare tea from the Midnight Mountains I think you might appreciate, Ms. Greenwarth.”

My mother turns, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at Atlas’s sudden enthusiasm for tea, but before she can question it, the dumbbells rise from their rack and begin orbiting around my head.

“What in the world...?” My mother’s eyes widen.

“Pregnancy magic,” he says calmly, reaching up to pluck the levitating weights from the air one by one. “Perfectly normal in the third trimester and happens to many magical mothers.”

“It most certainly does not,” says Mom. “I carried Grizelda for nine months without a single magical mishap.”

“Perhaps our little one has a unique magical signature.” Atlas catches the last dumbbell before it can collide with a passing client’s head. “A blend of witch and troll magic might manifest differently in utero.”

My mother purses her lips but doesn’t argue. The sparks around my hands gradually fade, and I release a tense breath. “Sorry,” I whisper to Atlas as my mother moves ahead to examine the refreshment bar.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says with a wink. “Your magic is simply expressing your inner feelings. What did the dumbbells represent, I wonder? A desire to throw heavy objects at your mother, perhaps?”

Despite my fatigue and frustration, I laugh. “You know me too well.”

“I should hope so, after all we’ve been through together.” He places a gentle hand on my belly. “How are you feeling, really?”

“Like I’m going to be pregnant forever.” I groan. “And my mother’s constant judgment isn’t helping.”

“She’s from a different generation,” he says diplomatically, “And she’s worried about you, in her own way.”

“Her own highly critical, passive-aggressive way,” I mutter.

“She loves you despite her manner.”

I snort.

“Understanding her perspective might make her presence more bearable.” He kisses my forehead. “Besides, she’ll only be here until the baby arrives.”

“At this rate, that could be years.” I sigh heavily.

My mother returns from inspecting the refreshment bar, looking marginally less disapproving. “The herbal selection is adequate,” she concedes, which from her, is practically a rave review.

“Thank you,” he says with a gracious nod. “We work closely with local magical herbalists to ensure quality and potency. One of our local sun witches, Talia Brightwell, grows many of the herbs we use, and some of our special blends come from Zelda’s shop.”

My mother raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Atlas has been a wonderful supporter of my business. He recommends my remedies to his clients with various magical ailments.”

“Hmm.” My mother doesn’t comment further, but I can tell she’s mulling over the information. Perhaps she’s finally recognizing Atlas is more than just a gym-owning troll.

“Ms. Greenwarth, would you care to observe one of our specialized classes? The Advanced Magical Core Strengthening session is about to begin. Many participants report significant improvements in their spellcasting accuracy afterward.”

My mother hesitates, then gives a curt nod. “I suppose I could spare a few minutes.”

As we make our way to the classroom, another contraction seizes me. It’s stronger than a Braxton Hicks but still not quite labor. I grasp a nearby wall for support, and the stone ripples beneath my fingers, responding to my uncontrolled magic.

“Zelda?” Atlas is instantly at my side.

“I’m okay.” I breathe in and out as the pain subsides. “Just another false alarm.”

When I look at the wall, I see I’ve left a handprint embedded in the stone, glowing with purple magical energy. Around it, small vines sprout from the previously smooth surface, flowering with tiny purple and white blossoms.

“Impressive,” says my mother, sounding reluctantly impressed. “You haven’t had this kind of elemental manifestation since you were a teenager throwing tantrums.”

“Imm not throwing a tantrum,” I say with irritation, mortified as several gym patrons stop to stare at my magical handiwork.

Atlas rests his hand on the altered wall. “It’s an improvement. Adds character.” His own earth magic flows into the stone, stabilizing the change and making it look like an intentional decorative element. “Perhaps you could add these throughout the gym, Zelda, as a signature magical touch from the co-owner.”

My mother’s head whips around. “Co-owner?”

“Not officially,” I say quickly. “Atlas is just being generous.”

“I’ve been trying to convince Zelda to merge our businesses,” he says. “Her magical remedies complement our physical training programs perfectly. Plus, she has the better head for business.”

This is news to me. We’ve discussed collaboration, but not an actual merger. I stare at him, wondering what game he’s playing, but his expression reveals nothing beyond sincere admiration.

“Is that so?” My mother’s tone turns calculating. “And what percentage of ownership would my daughter hold in this...merger?”

“Mother!” I’m horrified by her directness.

“Equal partnership,” he says without hesitation. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Hmm.” My mother studies him with renewed interest. “Perhaps you’re not as primitive as you appear.”

Atlas smiles. “Few things in life are as simple as they appear. As Plato observed, ‘Reality is created by the mind, and we can change our reality by changing our mind.’”

For the first time since her arrival, my mother looks genuinely taken aback. She turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me he was so philosophical.”

“There’s a lot about Atlas I haven’t told you,” I say, unable to keep a hint of smugness from my voice. My smug moment is short-lived, however, as another wave of magic surges through me, this time causing all the lights in the corridor to flare brilliantly before exploding in a shower of sparks.

The gym is plunged into momentary darkness until Atlas quickly activates the emergency illumination crystals embedded in the ceiling. “Perhaps we should continue this tour another time,” he says tactfully as gym members look around in confusion.

My mother gives me a look that somehow manages to be both concerned and judgmental. “Yes, I think Grizelda needs to rest and regain her magical control. This display is most unseemly.”

“It’s not a display,” I snap, embarrassment making my tone sharper than intended. “It’s involuntary.”

“That’s even worse.” She shakes her head. “A witch without control of her magic is hardly a witch at all.”

“Mother...” I almost growl in frustration.

Atlas steps between us, his large form creating a physical barrier. “With all due respect, magical fluctuations during pregnancy are well-documented, especially in the final days before birth. I’ve seen it in many magical species—elves, fae, and even dragon-shifters. It’s a sign of the baby’s growing magical strength, not a failure of Zelda’s abilities.”

My mother looks like she wants to argue but eventually presses her lips together in a tight line. “That was...uncommon in my day. Nevertheless, she should be at home where these...incidents can be contained privately.”

For once, I actually agree with her, if only to escape the mortification of destroying more of Atlas’s gym. “Let’s go home.”

As we leave Fae Fitness, my mother watches Atlas thoughtfully while he pauses to help an elderly dwarf navigate around the broken glass from the exploded lights. His gentleness with the much smaller being seems to register with her.

“He is unusual for a troll,” she says quietly as we walk home. “Quite articulate.”

“Atlas has three advanced degrees,” I say with no small amount of pride. “Philosophy, Magical Kinesiology, and Business Management.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Indeed? Where did he study?”

“The Mountainpeak Academy for the first two, and he did his business degree at the Evershift University extension program.”

For once, my mother seems genuinely impressed. The Mountainpeak Academy is one of the oldest and most respected educational institutions in the magical realm. “Yet he chose to open a gymnasium.” She clicks her tongue.

“A wellness center,” I correct. “It’s his passion to help magical beings maintain both physical and magical health through balanced practices.”

“Hmm.” She falls silent, and it seems she’s recalibrating her assessment of Atlas. It’s not acceptance, but it’s a start.

As we approach our cottage, another magical surge tingles through my fingertips, causing the flowers along our garden path to suddenly triple in size, expanding their blooms to dinner-plate proportions. “Oh, dear,” I mutter.

“Your magical control is truly abysmal.” She sighs loudly. “Is it getting worse?”

“It comes and goes.” I carefully step around a sunflower now large enough to use as an umbrella. “The closer I get to labor, the more unpredictable it becomes.”

“Then for everyone’s safety, let’s hope the baby arrives soon.” My mother strides ahead, the overlarge flowers seeming to bend away from her as if intimidated.

I sigh and follow, praying to every magical deity I can think of that labor begins sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how much more of my mother’s “help” I can endure.