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Lune barreled into the beach house kitchen. Out of breath and dripping in sweat from his frantic sprint. Still clutching at his compass. At the little table, Calico spit out his tea, frazzled at the might of his chaotic arrival.

His father’s guttural, accented voice exclaimed, “Now see here, my siren chick-peep—”

Wheezing and breathless from his run, all Lune could do was hold out the compass and shake it at the deity who’d raised him. The gods had created this magic. Calico must know how to fix it, know what was wrong with it.

“Oh! Marvelous. You have been called?”

Lune knew his thoughts were running rampant, but Calico was a telepath. Lune grunted, too excited to speak, but tried to focus enough to mentally communicate.

Calico jerked and gasped, dropping the tea towel he’d been using to mop up the spill. His father flapped his hands like a seal waving its flippers. Apparently, Lune’s thoughts had been a little too jagged and rough. If he wasn’t so distraught, he’d find it funny.

Centering himself, Calico got up and guided him to sit in the chair he’d just vacated. “Breathe, and settle, dear heart. Now, something is wrong with your compass?”

While he was calming down from the initial scare, it was easier to just think at his foster father. Lune squeezed his eyes shut and recalled the moment as he clung to the dock ladder. The surprising, acute joy slicing right into heartache and then instant confusion without any forewarning.

“There, there,” Calico engulfed him in a hug. “No, I do not know what is wrong, or if there is truly anything amiss. With your Intended, or with the compass itself. I am not familiar with Compass-magic, nor do I know what the pulsing jewels mean.”

Calico presented him with a glass of water. Lune took several short sips. Calico’s mind hovered about his, lending quiet comfort until Lune let his shoulders sag.

“Thanks, Cal.”

“Do you still sense a frightening urgency?”

Gritting his teeth, Lune paused to figure that out. And stared at his compass for additional support. No. He didn’t feel anything. That was the problem. Before, there had always been a faint presence just out of his mental reach, but that was all.

“What does the compass say now?”

Lune lifted it and let the Compass-rose spin. “Pointing towards Temple Prime.”

“Then you should prepare to go there.”

Lune slumped in his chair, leaving the compass on the table. “Next boat for the main island goes out in the morning. ”

“Then you have plenty of time to have a repast, clean up, pack, and get some rest.”

That sounded like a major chore, given that he still felt anxious and tense.

“A cup of tea to calm your nerves.” The steamy brew was set next to Lune’s water glass.

Lune snorted and disconnected himself from their telepathic conversation. His fingertips wrapped around the warm mug, further grounding his racing mind.

Taking a sip, Lune realized Calico had been at the Grim’s festival.

Bright purple paint covered Calico’s face.

The color signified Calico had gone to Temple Prime on the main island.

The glittery paint slightly obscured the green and black filigree-like birthmarks that ran diagonally down each side of his foster father’s face.

There were also traces of purple powder dusted atop his half-shaved head and in his dark hair. It made the blue of his eyes stand out.

Magical birthmarks were an uncommon thing in the world, but enough magical folks had them that they weren’t anything to be surprised about.

Lune pursed his lips and eyeballed his compass. Compass-borns also had birthmarks. His happened to be smack dab on his butt-cheek. When he’d been old enough to comprehend, Calico had given him a hand mirror. Then directed him to go into the privacy of his room to look at it.

His Compass-mark. On his ass. He imagined that somewhere out in the world, someone wore its match. Matching butt-cheeks. Charming.

“Sorry I missed the celebration,” Lune said. “And seeing extended family. ”

“Nonsense. You had to rescue your boat. Is she any worse for wear?”

“Just the sail. Sachin’ll have it fixed this week. Hopefully.”

“That is very good to hear.” Calico stood up, placing a hand against his shoulder. “Siren-peep? Lune.”

Lune tensed, knowing what was coming. He wasn’t ready to lose Calico. But his foster father was a wandering god. It was a parting they’d talked about in-depth for the last five years.

“The compass has called you. You have your own family now.” Calico gave him a final pat and padded off to his room. Probably to pack.

Lune only sucked in a silent sob, and lay his head down on the table. It took a minute more to compose himself from the evening’s turmoil. Then he got up and headed into his own room to prepare.

Lune washed. Scrubbed his body and wavy blond hair clean with the special soaps Calico highly recommended. The mixtures reeked of mango and elderberries.

His foster father had a thing for certain scents and flavors, because of his phoenix heritage. That included the delicious peppers Calico often prepared with their meals. The hotter the better his father declared, after bringing home seeds to plant in their garden.

Calico had collected several varieties during his travels throughout the realms, as he was the God of Space and Time.

Calico called his favorite pepper plant Carolina Reaper .

He had several other varieties dotted around their little garden, affectionately referring to them as Ghost or Trinidad Moruga Scorpion .

Lune thought it odd Calico would name plants as if they were pets. His father had many endearing quirks .

Lune had to stop reminiscing and get to packing.

He dug around in his chest of drawers for trousers without patches or frayed threads.

To fill time, he’d even polished his leather boots and belt so they would complement his blue belt-sash.

He’d wear a fresh tunic beneath the blue satin vest. It was the only set of formal garments he had.

Over the years, Calico had tried to buy him more.

What did he need with fancy clothes when he steered a boat all day and handled luggage and cargo? When his love and life were riding the waves or racing beneath them. Or reveling in the ocean’s cool breeze on the hottest of days.

By the time Lune was done packing, the sun had dipped below the horizon. He decided he would go sit out on the beach and try to relax. Listen to the waves crash against their private stretch of shoreline.

After years of waiting, Lune tried not to think of how nervous this magically-arranged fated mate marriage made him, even though he was eager for it.

He’d gone back to the docks to explain to Sachin, but his friend was already snoring in his hammock.

So he pinned a note to the cabin door, explaining.

The compass’s light flickered, drawing Lune’s attention. Although not as vibrant as it was a few hours before. That lone, unlit jewel among its brighter siblings made his stomach flop.

“What happened, my Intended?” he asked of the magical metal. “Where did you go?”

The evening embracing the landscape was so very cozy and romantic.

But not having anyone to share it with lay heavy on his heart.

Over the years, he’d had long, one-sided conversations with his compass.

Sometimes, he almost thought he sensed affection radiating from it.

Although lately, it felt as if no one was on the other side anymore .

The heavenly smell of vanilla waffles drifted from the beach house’s kitchen, breaking Lune from his thoughts.

Vanilla was a very special treat. Waffles were usually served flavored of cayenne pepper or cinnamon.

Calico always said waffles were the most magical of dinners.

Lune agreed, especially if there was Calico’s homemade strawberry syrup and the honey harvested from the apiary about a mile down the road.

Magical. A word, and a craft he’d grown up with, but personally knew so little about. Calico wove magic so often into their day-to-day life, and talked about it so much, maybe Lune had just taken it for granted.

Lune sighed, unhooking the compass that was attached to his belt. The few times he’d drilled Calico for information about it, his phoenix-born foster father always said if he had questions, he would need to trek to a temple.

Holding the compass aloft by its chain, Lune studied the silver casing. The calm rush of ocean waves lapping against the sand lulled him into further reflection.

The glossy compass face was the shade of aged paper; its directional rose-star cast in a deep, metallic black. Thirteen verdant jewels decorated the bevel—his anxious gaze skipped over the one that had winked out.

This Compass-union was the chance to start a new life.

To connect with someone. To grow and learn from each other.

Laugh with each other. And, Lune hoped, to someday fall in love with.

That lifelong support was something he yearned for.

Because he’d been shown love and guidance by the strange, wayfaring god who’d raised him since birth.

Lune smirked with affection. Calico was…how would Calico put it…? An odd kettle of fish? An eccentric old bean? His smirk soon turned to wistfulness. He’d miss his father .

He glanced over his shoulder. Through the window, Calico tucked dust blankets over the furniture, and packed up food to distribute to the neighbors. The tiny two-bedroom beach house they’d called home was being closed up.

It was often custom for newlyweds—especially fated mates or arranged marriages—to spend their honeymoon getting to know each other on neutral ground.

Then decide where they wanted to go from there.

And the city below Temple Prime was the place to hang out while making that decision. Or so Lune had heard from friends.

Calico had tried to reassure him that this wasn’t the end. That they’d see each other again. Someday. But someday was an eternity.

Lune stood up, brushing the sand off his trousers. He followed the delicious scent of waffles to its origin. There, in their beach house kitchen, his father’s presence lit up the room.

The friendly warmth of Calico’s phoenix-self radiated around his portly, human form.

He looked to be in his early 50s, with a big, round belly hiding behind the long chef’s apron.

A white scarf concealed his half-shaved head, and his dark hair was bound into a queue down his back.

Calico’s eyes currently beamed with tranquility, but the stress-wrinkles of an old, unspoken turmoil still marred them.

“My siren-chick is leaving the nest.” Calico retrieved a linen from the pocket of his floor-length skirt and dabbed at his tears. “This will be the last meal I shall cook for you.”

As usual, Calico enunciated all his words with utmost care. Lune knew his father was native-born to this realm, but entwined within those deep, guttural tones was the hint of a very strange accent. One he’d not heard in his years of ferrying visitors and foreigners all around the archipelago .

“I shall be away, procuring your wedding present,” Calico said. “But I will return in plenty of time for the actual ceremony.”

“Cal, I told you. I don’t need anything. You being there is more important.”

“Of course I must find you a wedding present. What sort of father and mentor would I be if I did not? Now come and eat your dinner before the waffles go cold.”

Lune sat at the table and fiddled with the small pot of strawberry syrup. “Why aren’t you coming with me?”

Calico laughed. “You have not needed your daddy to hold your hand since you were thirteen. Besides, solo travel builds character and confidence.”

Calico did have a point. Other than his one failed attempt to travel alone when he came of age. His father slid another waffle onto his plate, then pat his shoulders before dropping a kiss against his forehead. “No sulking. Eat.”

Lune drowned the treat in butter and strawberry syrup. Then savored the faint scrape of the knife across the golden crust. He wasn’t sulking. He was in mourning. It had just been him and Calico for so long.

He grasped for grounding happy memories. Sachin popped up around his thirteenth birthday. Just when he’d gotten his hands on the junker he’d renamed the Jade Raptor. Together, he and Sachin fixed her up and made her shine again. At least Sachin would remain a familiar constant in his life.

Calico sat beside him, pouring a generous amount of syrup on his own breakfast. “You still fear what being away from the water that long will do.”

Lune nodded, subdued .

“Well,” Calico said with a cheerful wink. “My magic will fix that. I’ve re-spelled your scarf to keep your gills hydrated for the duration of your honeymoon journey.”

“Thanks.”

“Things will work out, my siren-peep. Have faith.”

“That’s what’s worrying me.” Lune grimaced, mopping up the last bit of syrup with the last bite of waffle. Calico leaving was just a small spiral to his mood that he couldn’t stop thinking about. But what overshadowed that was the continued strange disconnect from his Intended.