The magic shop is closed today, so when Lilim wakes from her restless sleep, she decides to get to work. Asra left a few days earlier on one of his adventures but someone has to stay and keep the shop open. She’s been cleaning every inch, every shelf, every corner, dusting, sweeping, and scrubbing until the scent of lemon and soap suffuses everything. When she finally sets the pail down, a pouch hanging in the corner catches her eye, calling to her. She walks over, wiping her hands on her trousers before touching it. When she does, a flash of vision takes over. Sweat. Haze. Ache. Thirst. So thirsty. A whine in my ear. Soft fur, cool tongue against my burning skin. “Go away.”

Once she returns to herself, she begins to gather whatever food, herbs and concoctions she can into a travel bag before locking the shop behind her.

***

When she arrives at Muriel’s hut, there isn’t a candle burning anywhere. It’s dark and dank and smells of sweat. Inanna slinks over to her, tugging at her sleeve toward the bed. His hulking form is on the bed, shivering, but he is burning up when she presses her wrist to his forehead. She flings the covers from him and finds a bucket to fill with water. She grabs a cloth and wets it before cooling it further with magic and pressing it to his face, wiping his brow, his cheeks. Her other hand she slides underneath his neck and keeps it there to help bring his temperature down further.

His eyes are unfocused when he looks at her but she smiles. “Muriel, it’s me, Lilim.” She squeezes cold water into his hair and he lets out a cracked sound from parched lips. She rises to grab a glass and brings it to him, lifting his head up and onto her chest before pressing it to his mouth. He takes one sip, then another. His thirst somewhat sated, she returns to the task of cooling him down, letting her magic flow to her hands.

***

Muriel awakens, his muscles are aching and his head is too light, but he feels like himself again. Inanna wags her tail at him and licks his hand. “I’m alright.” He pats her head and takes a look around. His hut... it feels different. He frowns, his eyes scanning around until he realizes it’s been cleaned. The air is fresh and there isn’t a speck of dust on any of the surfaces. Even the floor shines. He runs a hand through his hair, expecting it be matted and dirty but the strands are clean, soft.

A movement behind him on the bed startles him and he scurries off in a blink. There, behind where his head had been laying as he slept. It’s her. He thought it had only been a fevered dream, her smile, his name on her lips, her voice calm as a Spring breeze as she hummed songs to him, but there she is. Her legs folded under her, she fell asleep against the wall, somehow managing not to fall to the floor, clearly exhausted.

He looks away, ready to leave but Inanna blocks his path to the door, her eyes flicking between him and Lilim. He sighs, approaching the bed again. She does look uncomfortable, and the way her neck bends, he knows she’ll wake up sore. After everything she’s done for him, he supposes it wouldn’t be right. Gently, he slides his hand behind her neck. She doesn’t wake even as her body collapses from the wall but he has her. He reaches under her knees with his other arm and pulls her over the mattress, laying her down. How small she feels against his palms.

He turns away again to leave but something on the table catches his attention. A vase, with a bouquet of flowers, sits in the centre. The blooms are small, clustering in bunches of periwinkle, with a bright yellow eye staring from their centre, almost lost in bright green foliage. There is a plate near the vase, covered with a clean cloth. He lifts it to find bread, honey, nuts and fruits. Food. For him. All of this. For him.

He considers leaving it for her but his stomach rumbles then, almost loud enough to rouse her so he sits. Asra introduced them years ago. Muriel had known of her before then, of course. The first time the magician had met her, he’d returned to their hut and told him all about it, his eyes brighter than usual. The memory of her almost faded when she’d reappeared the following year, and his friend had been just as affected. And the year after that. Eventually, Asra had spent less and less time at the hut, and more and more time with her, his love for her clear in every word. “You’re gonna love her, Muriel, you’ll see,” he’d said.

One day, as he sat whittling a stick with his knife, Asra came in, holding someone’s hand behind him. He watched her cross the threshold and it seemed as though the light of the sun clung to her, sparkling along her wild hair, clinging to the edges of her face and dancing in her her eyes, bright brass and gold flecks capturing his gaze and he was left speechless. Of course, he’d loved her. Small, gentle and kind, she didn’t talk too much, her voice soothing when she did and his heart broke. Every time Asra would visit with her, always touching, even without meaning to, eyes only for each other, like magnets that couldn’t stay apart, it broke a little more.

So he stayed away from her, kept his gaze averted lest it catch hers - she would see it if she looked into his eyes, he knew. Better if she thought he didn’t like her.

Despite everything he’d done to keep her away, she’d known he was sick and had come for him. She’d brought him back from the brink of death, and taken care of him until exhaustion claimed her.

He places the cloth back over the plate and takes a long drink of water. It’s enough for now. He’s about to go when he hears her voice. “Muriel?”

He turns, aware of the flush on his face, but he stays by the door. “I’m here.”

She sits up slowly, a hand to her head and finds him, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “You’re up. Feeling better?”

He nods. “....Thank you.” He waits for a while, in silence as she stirs awake a little further. “How long was I...?”

She slides her leg over the edge of the bed. “A few days. You should have sent Inanna to me before it got so bad.” She stands, a little weakly and takes a step but her legs are giving away. He catches her before she falls, an arm behind her back and she makes a surprised, muffled sound against his chest. “Oof, I think I got up too fast. I’m alright.” She takes a moment before stepping back then pats his arm and walks to the table, grabbing a dried date and chewing on it with her eyes still closed.

Days. She spent days caring for him, washing the sweat from his skin, from his hair... He shifts his weight from left to right, unsure what to do with himself, eventually sitting down on the stool by the table. His eyes wander to the flowers. “What are they?”

She follows his gaze and smiles, a blush to her cheeks. “Oh,” she giggles, “Forget-me-Nots. I passed the merchant on the way and I... had to get them. It’s a bit strange, I know, flowers aren’t much help for fevers, but I couldn’t leave them. I just... knew they were yours.”

Before he can stop her, her hand reaches and tucks some of his hair out of his face. He leans into the touch and his eyes meet hers, for the first time in years, the gold flecks dancing within the brass and bronze just as beautiful as he remembers when he allows himself. He could lose himself in her eyes. She freezes for a moment, and a deep look of sadness falls over her. Her thumb brushes his cheek, her eyes brimming red before she pulls away to fluff the bouquet. She knows. He wants to get up and run, but she clears her throat, still looking at the flowers. “I’ve placed a spell on them,” she smiles, though she doesn’t look at him again. “They won’t fade. As long as I never forget you, Muriel. Do you understand?”

He does. She cares, but her heart belongs to Asra. He nods, but he can’t speak and when she slides her arms around his neck to embrace him in a fierce hug, he lets out a long breath into her hair. When she leaves his hut, it’s as though all the light follows, and he’s left alone in the dim room. Yet, on the table, the flowers shine on and the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

***

Months pass. Asra came by to see Muriel and warned him to stay away from Vesuvia. The city is beset with a plague. He’ll be back later, when things are safe. Muriel lets him go, but weeks later something about it still bothers him. It keeps tugging at him until he sees. On the table, the flowers. For years now they’ve been bright specs of glittering blue and gold, their light the only beauty in his hut. He’s kept them watered and clean, his touch gentle so as to keep every single one intact, feeling her and her magic through them. He can feel her smile and her eyes glisten whenever he does. He knows she’s linked herself to the gift yet now... they are withering.

He drops the glass he was holding to his lips for a drink and rushes to the vase. Yes, the flowers at the edge are turning brown before his eyes. His heart drops into his chest, his breath cut short and ragged. Is it possible? When Asra left, Muriel didn’t question. Of course Lilim would have been with him yet his hands shake as he reaches for the bouquet.

It’s dark. Tired. Thirsty. Lips parched. Alone. Fire and metal sounds nearby. Wailing from others around me. Eyes red. It’s too late. There’s only the fire now. I feel him. Smile. The flowers. Not alone anymore. My eyes close. My cracked lips can barely move. “I’m... sorry.”

He falls to his knees with a groan, the flowers in his hands are crumbling to ash. Desperate, he presses his palms to his chest, clutching what is left of them, of her, tears running down his cheeks. Inanna comes to sit by him and howls once before laying down.

It’s a long time before he can stand up. His body trembles. He looks at the ash on the floor. Nothing left. When he pulls his hands from his chest, a single Forget-me-Not stares back at him amidst the dust, pressed flat, but otherwise intact. One left to remember. Carefully, he places the flower into a pouch, attaching it to his waist.