Morning arrived like someone shyly poking their head through the curtains, then immediately regretting it and retreating behind a cloud.
Dee Megus, however, was already up. Wide awake. Possibly too awake. He'd arranged a breakfast camp under the crooked arms of an ancient tree whose bark occasionally sighed. A kettle boiled mid-air while slices of bread floated in slow, circular orbit like sleepy planets. A few rogue crumbs lazily spiraled outward, defying both gravity and etiquette.
"This is the most cursed breakfast I've ever seen," Hiro mumbled, emerging from his blanket like a confused cat.
"It's not cursed," Dee said proudly, stirring tea that refused to steep. "It's thematic."
"The toast slapped me," Hiro added, trying to bat away a slice that kept bumping into his head like a clingy ghost.
"That's the rye. He's got strong opinions," Dee muttered, snapping his fingers. The bread immediately halted mid-slap and floated gently to the ground.
Vampher sat up groggily, brushing moss off his hair. "Is that kettle singing?"
"Yes," Dee replied. "It's doing jazz today. Kettle's got taste."
"It's humming like a ghost who regrets starting a band," Hiro said.
"It's off-key," Vampher agreed.
"It's possessed," Hiro corrected.
"It's enchanted," Dee insisted, dramatically pouring water that may or may not have fizzed a little too much. "With soul."
"Yeah," Hiro said, taking the offered tea. "And bubbles."
Vampher peered into his cup. "Why is my tea slightly… purple?"
Dee sipped his with complete satisfaction. "That's the starlight infusion. Helps with clarity. And hallucinations. Sometimes both."
"Lovely," Vampher deadpanned.
"Where's Boulder Guy?" Hiro asked suddenly, blinking around the camp. "You know, the big walking hunk of quartz and existential dread?"
"You mean the philosophical sentient golem?"
"Yes. Our mobile boulder of brooding. He was growing moss in beautiful symmetry."
Dee barely looked up. "Oh. He met the Fairy King and Queen."
There was a pause.
"He what?" Hiro asked, toast half-bitten.
"They found him last night," Dee explained, waving his jam-spreading knife around like a wand. "Turns out they're also my creations. They called me Father. Awkward."
Vampher blinked slowly. "You made fairies?"
"And unicorns," Dee added. "And phoenixes. I went through a 'whimsical creatures' phase. I was emotionally unstable and trying to impress a nymph. Long story."
Hiro snorted. "Of course you were."
"So what happened to the golem?" Vampher asked, accepting a plate from Dee despite the toast wobbling like it might try to escape again.
"They invited him to live in the pocket dimension I made for them," Dee said with a shrug. "You know. For all the magical beings I forgot to finish emotionally."
Hiro blinked. "You just… made a dimension?"
Dee looked mildly offended. "I design dimensions. I'm not a savage. It has mood lighting and rivers that hum lullabies. Also, bioluminescent butterflies."
"And he just went?"
"He said something about 'seeking understanding in the rustling of ancient leaves,' then tripped on a root, then got up and left with the fairies. Quite poetic."
"That tracks," Hiro said, chewing thoughtfully. "Still miss the guy, though."
"He was calming," Vampher agreed. "In an unnerving, deeply reflective way."
"I felt like he was always judging me, but like… kindly."
"You all get oddly sentimental about talking rocks," Dee mumbled.
"You literally made a kettle that sings jazz," Vampher said, pointing at the still-humming kettle, which had now switched to a sax solo.
"That kettle helped me survive a breakup," Dee muttered, sipping his tea again. "Do not disrespect the Kettle of Coping."
"I'm sorry, did you name it that?" Hiro asked.
"No," Dee said. "She named herself."
"Oh my gods."
They all burst into laughter. Even Vampher, who usually laughed like it was a contractual obligation, let out a small snort.
There was something deliciously absurd about their situation. Heroes on a journey through metaphysical trials, locks that whispered truths, and time-breaking artifacts… yet here they were: sipping sparkly tea, arguing with enchanted breakfast food, and reminiscing about sentient boulders who philosophized in iambic pentameter.
"Do you think we're… changing?" Hiro asked after a while, less seriously than before. "I mean, we're still on a reality-bending, soul-crushing quest, but we laugh more now."
"We've cracked five locks," Vampher said, stirring his tea absently. "And each one tried to shatter us in a different way. Maybe what's left is… flexible."
"Like emotionally elastic," Hiro offered.
"Or just broken in new patterns," Dee said.
They all nodded.
Then Dee levitated a jar filled with glowing greenish-purple jam.
"Jam?"
"No," Hiro said immediately.
"Why is it glowing?" Vampher asked suspiciously.
"It's from a fruit that grows between hours," Dee said. "Technically edible. Definitely questionable."
"Like your entire personality," Hiro said.
"Hey, I'm a delight," Dee retorted.
"Delightfully dangerous."
"Delightfully delicious," Dee said, eating his own glowing toast.
"Why do I trust you less with every passing meal?"
"Because I don't walk. I make others carry me," Dee said, then pointed to Vampher with his toast. "Him, specifically."
"I was made to be your what, exactly?" Vampher asked.
"My mouth," Dee said cheerfully. "And body. And hands. Basically I didn't want to walk, so I made someone tall, mysterious, and overburdened with destiny to do it for me."
"You created me because you were lazy?"
"And emotionally constipated," Hiro added.
"It was a phase!" Dee cried. "I was overwhelmed. And dramatic. And wearing too many scarves."
"You still wear six scarves."
"It's seven today," Dee said with a sniff. "It's chilly."
They laughed again. A bright, strange kind of laughter. The kind that warmed the edges of the soul without asking permission.
Around them, the morning light stretched. The tree above groaned gently, dropping a few sleepy leaves. The stars, though still faint in the blue sky, blinked softly like old friends pretending not to eavesdrop.
They sat together—mage, warrior, and boy-with-baggage—on a stone just wide enough to hold their friendship.
For one brief, perfect hour, the weight of broken worlds and unspoken endings paused.
There was tea. And toast. And jam that glowed with suspicious cheer.
And laughter that echoed like healing across the sky.