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My thoughts are such a whirlwind of Brenda and the Ritual and Mom and the Order that I don’t even notice until Jordan’s hesitant voice pulls me to the present. “Kat? What are you doing?”

I look up from the espresso machine I was refilling with water, not milk. “Ugh, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

Jordan pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, hon, I’ll take care of it. Why are you here, anyway? I thought you weren’t on shift this afternoon.”

I glance at the hallway that leads to the control room, and a chill runs down my back. “I know, I just thought you might need extra help,” I say.

I’d actually come over right after school to get into Mom’s office, but started working the register and tending to the brews on autopilot.

I think I was procrastinating. I know I want to find out more about what Mom was working on, but actually getting started—it means facing the fact that something went wrong, and it’s the reason why she’s not here anymore.

I take a deep breath. I can do this.

I’d put on a brave face when Brenda asked me if the Order was dangerous. I didn’t lie when I said the smugglers guarding the portals weren’t likely going to be a problem, but whoever is at the top controlling all this?

They’re definitely a threat.

“Hey, I listened to the broadcast of that council meeting. Are you okay?” Jordan looks over their rimmed glasses at me.

“Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Just that they announced they’re doing the Ritual. Soon.” Jordan looks at me and then suddenly gives me a swift, fierce hug. Which is weird, because Jordan is not a hugger. They don’t even like high fives.

I pat them awkwardly on the back. “Thanks, Jordan. But you know, I’m not gonna do it. The council can find other cornerstones.”

Jordan exhales. “Okay, but don’t let those old ducks push you around, and you know they’re going to try! They hounded your poor mother until she—” Jordan sniffs. “And you’re just a baby and I—”

“Uh, are you still making that latte?” The man at the counter blinks at us.

“Yes!” Jordan says, waving their arms in exasperation. They wipe their nose. “You go home and take a break, okay? If I catch you in that back room restocking or anything, I’m gonna send you right home.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, Jordan.”

The bell above the door rings, and Dad bustles through, waving at me. He sets down a box full of fresh Pick-Me-Ups and smiles at me. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here. How was school?”

The day was a blurring mix of pleasant daydreams about Brenda and the anxiety of unsettling unknowns about the Order and the Ritual.

I can’t stop thinking about Brenda, her soft little smile, and the way she was curled up in my bed.

There’s a part of me that feels like the different universe thing should make it easier, because hooking up with Brenda means there’s no risk of getting strings attached.

But the daydreams aren’t even about hooking up, or the kiss, or anything like that.

I’m revisiting the moment watching Brenda’s eyes light up when she talks about her scientist dream thing, and then it evolves into me clapping at some huge award ceremony as she gets all the awards for fixing the climate thing, or, like, thinking about her in the coffeeshop or my house, and showing her all the things I’ve been working on, the feeling of being home with someone.

“Kat?” Dad tilts his head at me. “Something nice happen? You’re smiling.”

I’m not quite ready to talk to him about Brenda; I haven’t talked to him about anything really personal in forever, and I don’t know where to start. “It was fine. Vega’s actually pretty cool now that I’m giving him a chance. You were right, I should have been in the advanced class.”

Dad grins. “That’s my girl.” He pushes my baseball cap down on my head, playfully covering my eyes.

“Hey!” I stick my tongue out at him.

Dad’s chortling as he pulls on his own cap and apron, and starts stocking the shelves.

“I’m gonna head home. You all good here?” I gesture to the mostly empty coffeeshop, aside from the one guy who’s announced he’s penning the next Great American Novel.

“Sure, go ahead. You’re not even supposed to be here today, Kat,” Dad says with a small smile.

“Great! Love you, Dad.”

Dad blinks at me before I realize I said it.

I hadn’t been thinking; we used to say it all the time, I’d just been so focused on being angry, angry that Dad wasn’t grieving the same way I was, angry at everything that had happened, angry that the burden of the prophecy now fell to me.

But the last council meeting reminded me: He’s angry too. And we’re a team.

His eyes soften. “I love you, too, Kat. I’ll see you at home.”

I swipe a fresh bao and wink at him before striding through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. But instead of taking the anchored portal back to our house, I head straight down the hallway toward the control room.

The kitchen door is open, and the warm, comforting smell of freshly baked buns wafts through the air.

I can see a set of Dad’s cauldrons bubbling merrily away for his long-brew potions.

Everything is in its usual set of organized chaos from the day, from the dirty dishes stacked up and ready to be spelled clean to the fresh ingredients ready for use.

The stockroom is filled with carefully labeled crates of ingredients, and Pick-Me-Ups under preservation spells all stand on their shelves, like any other day at the coffeeshop.

But as I approach the end of the hallway, I can feel the tingle of power in the air as I open the last door. The rush of air that greets me is thick with the taste of magic—bright and sharp like lightning, the sense of potential.

The mana swirling here is eager, impatient.

I can feel it in the air, rustling with excitement around me.

I’ve been feeling this more and more, everywhere—at school, out in town—anywhere mana is stored.

I wonder what it means, but I can’t exactly report weird vibes to the Mages’ Council and have them investigate it.

I know Mom is dead; I’ve accepted it. Apparently that’s the last stage of grieving, but doing this—starting to investigate what happened, and why—feels different than the wasteland of numb emotion I’ve been through the past three years.

Mom figured out a solution; she was the Chosen One, and she was going to fulfill the terms of the prophecy and put an end to the Ritual. But something—someone—stopped her.

And I’m going to find out exactly who.