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Narsus bounced up the steps to the beach house’s front door.

Folding his wings, he wasn’t surprised when they disappeared.

They were a gift to his human self. From the undead phoenix god.

The appendages would return when he required them.

Since he had his hands full, Lune pushed the door open, and they strolled in.

“We’re home,” Narsus called out. “Bree? Cinder?”

Silence.

“They must be out. Maybe back at that bookstore,” Lune said.

“I don’t see any note. Hungry?” Narsus set Lune down at the kitchen table.

Lune grabbed the table for balance as his new tails wrapped around the chair to further steady himself. “Savagely so. I have been since you plucked me out of the water.”

“Shape-shifting takes a lot of energy.” Narsus opened the pantry. “What do you want?”

“Waffles!” he shouted, laughing. Lune leaned over, trying to get a look at the shelves so recently stocked by Brightside and Cinder. “Waffles. Potatoes, and a steak the size of the beach house.”

Narsus busted out laughing. “Steaks that big we’ll have to go into town to get.”

“Then waffles will have to do for the interim,” Lune commanded. “It’s time you learned how to make them—”

The front door suddenly slammed open. Brightside appeared in the kitchen archway, eyes wild, and his face ashen gray. Cinder hurried along right behind him, looking quite the same.

“Oh!” Lune cried, fumbling to unbind the compass he’d tied off on his wrist. “Brightside, look what we found!”

“I…I…” the elf stuttered. “Felt…it.”

Brightside was nearly leaning into Lune now. And the elf only had eyes for the object Lune held out.

“It’s here? You—you found it?” Brightside mumbled in awe, taking it. Cherishing it. “After all this time? Lune…thank you.”

“And it’s glowing. You’re being called,” Lune said.

“Yes…?” the elf whispered faintly, then looked at Narsus, as if lost.

Narsus smiled. “You should get going.”

“Yes…” Brightside said again, still in a daze. He just stood there. Staring at his compass. Holding it as if he wasn’t even sure what it was.

Until Cinder gave him an urgent nudge. “Bree, let’s go.”

Not even giving Lune’s new siren body a second glance, the crow-like phoenix ushered Brightside into their room. Even with the door closed, there was the clatter of dresser drawers. Of Brightside’s tearful, halting, and muffled conversation with an equally distressed Cinder.

“Well,” Lune said, trying not to eavesdrop. He lifted his dual tails and wiggled them. “I’d love to try and walk on these noodles again. See how it works out.”

Narsus shook his head. “This is your first real and complete shift. Get used to your new body and strengthen your muscles before you start getting creative. You don’t want to hurt yourself. Again, ” he added sternly.

Lune’s eyebrows rose. “You speak from experience?”

He nodded. “I was a young hothead and tried to fly when I first transformed. I fell out of the sky from pretty high up—I thought the lift from a cliff-side would work. I shattered my wing hitting the ground. It was a hard lesson and an even longer recovery.”

“But you did recover.”

“A long recovery, which was mostly mental. It also included going back to shape-shifting school,” Narsus cautioned. “As well as getting yelled at by three gods.”

“Cal, the Grim, and Great-Grandfather Acanthus?” Lune teased.

“It’s not funny. This is dangerous. Lune, love. I saw you struggling to breathe. To work your tails for the first time. I…I thought I lost you. I don’t want to see that kind of distress again. Learn control and how to breathe when you shift.”

“My control’s fine.”

“In your human body, in the shallows. But not in your shifted form, and not so far down,” Narsus stressed.

Lune mulled that over. “Cal always tried to teach me, but I wasn’t interested.”

“You should be aware you’re using different organs, or enhanced organs. Different parts of your brain, or a new piece of your brain that grew with the shift. Learn to read your body. Especially breath control between your lungs and gills. I can’t help but remembering you telling me you get dizzy— ”

“—Coming back to the surface after being down several hours,” Lune finished. “Maybe you should help me practice.” He batted his eyes. “Being experienced and all.”

Narsus eyed him. “Of course. But no shortcuts,” he warned. “Shifting and living in a new form is serious business.”

Lune twisted his lips in half amusement, but didn’t push his luck with a snappy answer.

The bedroom door flew open. Both men appeared, their luggage in hand. “Cinder’s uh, coming with me. He says I’m unstable and need a guardian.”

“I’m…uh…ferrying him to Temple Prime,” Cinder reported, acting just as agitated as Brightside. “It’ll be quicker flying.”

Narsus frowned at Cinder’s unusual behavior before acknowledging the elf. “Bree, I won’t keep you. I know you already wish you had miles under your feet. Stay safe, both of you, and come back soon.”

“Not soon,” Brightside corrected, voice faint and distracted. “But I will. Goodbye my friend. Goodbye, Lune. I’m glad to have met you. And thank you. Thank…you…so much for this.” He gripped his compass in a shaking hand. “Take care of this old bird for me.”

“I will,” Lune said.

“Goodbye.” Brightside nodded, and the duo hurried away from the beach house.