A soft light bathed outside the ashen black door, moonlight spilling gently across the threshold. It was a light both serene and ancient, full of whispers from another time. Slowly, the door swung open, revealing an individual whose beauty was beyond words, shifting with each glance.

  From one angle, they appeared as a strong-jawed woman, radiating a fierce elegance, strength, and beauty intertwined. From another angle, they were a man with the softest skin, their kind eyes brimming with a warmth that drew you in. Masculine and feminine, balanced and fluid, an androgynous being neither confined by form nor expectation.

  They wore an ethereal gown made of white snowdrops and lily pads, the delicate petals draped over their body, revealing just one smooth, alabaster shoulder. The outfit shimmered faintly, as if kissed by the moon itself. Their hair was silver, glowing faintly, like strands of moonlight spun into existence. A half-crescent moon-shaped pin rested in their hair, holding it back in a tight, graceful bun.

  With purpose in every step, they moved toward the bar, the soft click of wooden sandals against the floor filling the room like a distant echo. Beside them, a white crane with piercing blue eyes followed in step, its movements sharp and deliberate, scanning the room as if taking stock of every soul present.

  They stopped just a few feet from the stools at the bar, their gaze locking onto Miss T. Their voice, when it came, was both soft and commanding, like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind with the weight of a mountain beneath it.

  “We are here to honor tradition and respect the old ways,” they said. “I have come to offer a gift you have already claimed.”

  With a slight bow at the waist, they gestured toward the crane, their lily-covered hand graceful and fluid. “This is Aurum, my mortal companion.”

  The crane, Aurum, bowed deeply, its long neck sweeping down in a show of deference. When it spoke, its voice was a low, deep rasp, like wind rustling through ancient reeds.

  “It is my honor, my lords and ladies who hold the seats of power, to bring to you this newborn immortal, as a stork delivers an infant babe from the heavens.” Aurum rose slowly, its sharp eyes settling on Miss T., holding her gaze with an intensity that bordered on reverence.

  Miss T. tensed, and her breath caught in her chest. She felt a ripple of something between excitement and anxiety. The figure was both familiar and not, stirring a sense of recognition she couldn’t quite place, considering the being before her was a newborn immortal.

  “Who are you, and what do you go by?” she asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves inside her. The being smiled, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their eyes, like moonlight rippling across still water.

  “You may call me LunaMontis. We were once two, and now, I am one.” Their voice held a playful lilt, teasing at the edges. “The gift I have already given—the beans from my door and the poem that roams in your heart.”

  All eyes in the bar shifted between Miss T. and the glowing drinks in their own hands. The tension that had built just moments before seemed to dissolve into curiosity and admiration. Miss T. felt a flush rise to her cheeks as the memory of the poem she’d overheard when she gathered the coffee beans washed over her, stirring something deep within. But she quickly shook it off and let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the room.

  “BE WELCOME!” she cried out, her voice cutting through the silence like a bell.

  A cheer erupted from the gathered immortals; the atmosphere suddenly alive with celebration. Several of the guests, their faces lit with newfound excitement, approached LunaMontis with a mixture of reverence and affection. Mister D. was first, a hearty man with a hearty laugh, clapping a hand on LunaMontis's shoulder as if they were old friends.

  “You know,” he began, his voice loud and jovial, “that’s some quality beans you produce! I’ve traveled across lands, through more countries than I can count, but this—this is the finest coffee I’ve ever had. Truly, a gift from the heavens.” His laughter boomed; the sound was infectious as it rolled through the room.

  The Summer Warden, ever the picture of elegance, approached next, sweeping LunaMontis’s hand into his own and kissing it gently. His voice, when he spoke, was soft but full of high esteem, every word dripping with respect.

  “So great is your power and grace that it first brought me into the mortal world. And now, such power bridges me back to the fey. Your watchful gaze and loving arms have guided me time and again,” he said, his eyes full of gratitude. LunaMontis smiled warmly, bowing their head in acknowledgment, though their aura of quiet strength remained unchanged.

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  Then, Night Beetle, her dark, iridescent starlight skin glimmering faintly in the bar’s low light, pulled out a chair and waved them over with a welcoming gesture. Her eyes sparkled with familiarity and affection.

  “Please, my sibling, come sit with me,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent. “I want to hear everything—how it happened, what it felt like. I know how long you waited for this, how deeply it pained you. But your patience, your faithfulness, it’s all paid off now. Come, sit.”

  LunaMontis moved through the gathering immortals with a graceful ease, their silver hair catching the light like threads of moonlight as they walked. When they reached the Night Beetle, they swung their arms around her in a loving embrace, their connection clear and unspoken. The two shared a quiet laugh, the kind born from years of understanding. The Moon, Earth, and stars were now once again reunited in this small coffee shop.

  Hand in hand, they sat together, their fingers interlocked, as the room hummed with quiet conversation and the magical warmth of kinship. The coffee shop itself was coming alive, buzzing with the weight of tradition and reunion, of stories yet to be shared and memories long held.

  The Winter Warden finished his drink first. He walked the length of the bar and stood at the edge. With his chin up and his eyes leveled with Miss T., he extended a firm hand to her.

  Miss T. felt a desire she hadn’t felt in a long time. She remembered dancing. It ran through her body like seafoam through sand. The Winter Warden nodded his head once, and she understood perfectly. Accepting the invitation with pomp and stature, she raised her own chin and approached him in a mock regal stride. It had been so long since this place was filled with dancing and laughter and songs. The memories flashed as her feet began to ache for the dance floor.

  Miss T. wrapped her arm around the Winter Warden as he bent to match her stride. The Winter Warden marched in a military fashion, one foot in front of the other with determination. While Miss T. genuflected, bowing at the neck toward some people while waving frantically at others, never losing stride with the Winter Warden. The deathly cold, serious tone of the Winter Warden remained on his face, not breaking for a momentary smile or to show any sign of enjoyment, whereas Miss T.‘s face displayed a wide smile and gleaming green eyes. A childlike enjoyment ran through her body, making it impossible for her to be still.

  They reached the top of the platform and stepped onto it as one. They circled the stage once to address the crowd that watched them. Some wore confused faces, while others had partial grins, understanding the obvious satire.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Miss T. said, “my partner and I shall display to you the oldest dance that we ourselves know by heart. The dance between Lady Spring and Lord Winter.”

  At the last few words, the Winter Warden stared at the Boy with the Red Violin, and he quickly caught on.

  CLICK! CLICK!

  In a flash, the boy undid his violin case, put his instrument back in his hands and on his shoulder, ready to play the melody. The two immortals faced each other, one towering, only moving if required, not wasting the slightest bit of energy. Rigid and controlled. The other, unable to contain her excitement, fidgeting, nearly vibrating between shuffling feet and wiggling fingers. Though confused, the others couldn’t help but smile at the silliness of it all.

  Miss T. glanced across the crowd.

  They were all friends

  Clasping their hands, the two began. The melody of the music swung into motion as the two immortals danced. A sturdy and strong, lumbering jaunt came from the Winter Warden, while sweet and light-footed, Miss T. hummed along with delight. Their dance displayed a contrast, a conspiracy. It was almost as if they did not know what the other was doing. But the rhythm was far too perfect, and their contrast was an error of levity. A reprieve of breath, a space to relax. The immortals watched and began to laugh.

  The Winter Warden worked up a sweat, grunting as he oversold the bit.

  The jig was up; they were found out. Miss T. knew it was time to let it out. The smile could contain the laughter no longer. Power roared out of her like rolling thunder. Like passion, like rain, Miss T. nearly sang.

  Her chest heaving hot, her eyes full of joy, she saw herself reflected in her dear friend’s eyes. Miss T. gazed into him, and behind his face, she saw the grin. No glamour ever truly hid itself from her. They were the oldest friends. He was her chosen family. She loved him—past blood. She hoped that love was enough. Yes, love, that was the key. That was the feeling that springtime should bring.

  Miss T. leaped up and swung from shoulder to shoulder. Kicking her legs up, she touched the borders of the stage with her toes. The Winter Warden spun in place, in between jumps, and twirled like a clock face. Rhythmic and in time to the beat of the song. The Winter Warden danced along.

  Now it was his turn to break character. Winter Warden was a professional, but around Miss T., he came alive and felt himself become more tender and gentle, like falling snow or soft winter wind. Past his glamour, his facade of cold was reserved. Winter broke free in his truest form: a loving companion. He let his guard down, and his glamour melted away as his smiling face was left to stay.

  He shifted quickly, moving like snow, catching her midair, spinning himself around below her. Twisting to match him, Miss T. wrapped her arms around his neck. They both took a dip, falling on their backs. The bar erupted with laughter, occupants loving the tragic disaster. The contrast was too much, the act was too convincing. Lady Spring and Lord Winter knew their dance was done. They both stood to address the crowd.

  The Winter Warden began to bow when suddenly—

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  —There were three knocks at the ashen black door.

  The music and laughter stopped.