She struck a match, watching as it sparked to life. The flame rose high, and she worked quickly, lighting the candles as the heat slowly crept toward her hand. She lit the last candle, then blew out the match with a satisfied breath. She watched as the flames sputtered, before finally settling and sending soft shadows across the room.

She breathed in their scent, the slight acrid smell of the match, the warming beeswax, the soft perfume of frankincense and sandalwood. She sat for a moment, following lines of wax as they dripped down the sides of the candles. There was something hypnotic about watching the small fires in the dark. Something she felt, deep in her soul, something that connected her to the raw energy of the universe.

He closed his office door quietly, then let out a loud sigh. He leaned against the door, his forehead resting against the solid wood. He would have never guessed that turning this operation from a one-person show to a huge bureaucracy would end up quite like this. Instead of working on his projects, alone, and feeling overwhelmed, he spent his days in meetings, at the occasional big production, and still felt overwhelmed. It felt so performative these days, and like he didn’t really know what was going on in his organization anymore.

He let out another sigh, then ambled over to his desk. He might have some time to sketch out a few new designs before his next meeting, and he really needed the break. Just as he sat at his large desk, the office door flew open.

“I’m so sorry, sir, but I couldn’t stop her!” Gary, his assistant, said, glaring at the woman who had burst through the door and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

Ian barged his way into the locker room. He was fully pissed off. Michelle had just dumped him for some dude in band. Band, of all things! She had rambled on and on about how she cared for him, but he just didn’t open up like Band Nerd did, wasn’t emotional enough, blah blah blah. He hadn’t really listened, due to the roaring in his ears. So what, if she wanted some sweaty band geek who, what, wrote poems or some shit, instead of him? That was her loss. She’d probably come crawling back anyway, once she realized Ian was clearly the better catch. But by then, he’d have gotten a new, hotter girlfriend, and would laugh her away.

He marched over to the sinks, and splashed cool water on his face. He just wanted to get out to practice and work out all this anger. He couldn’t stand feeling the tightness in his chest, the burn in his throat. He just needed a long, hard, workout, and he’d be fine. He stared at his reflection in the streaky mirror. He had to pull it together. If he was too angry, too aggressive out there, Coach would yell at him, tell him to get himself under control.

Willow closed her eyes, taking deep, slow breaths. She pulled her mind away from her itching arm, and tried to focus on something, anything, else.

“Damn it,” she whispered, opening her eyes and glaring at the twisting serpent inked into her skin. She could see the scab that itched, taunting her.

“What?” Thalia asked vaguely, nose still buried in her book.

“There is a scab on my new tattoo,” Willow said calmly, “that is making me want to peel off all of my skin.”

Claire let her eyes skim up and down the burly man before her, lingering on the spikey plant in a plastic pot cradled in his hands. “Normally, I’d have pushed you out the door by now, but you’re making a compelling argument with the bribery.”

Mike grinned, holding out the potted plant. “I thought this might work.”

Claire accepted the pot, trying to keep a stern look, but could feel her face twitch with a smile. Anyway, he knew she was teasing. Mostly.

She walked into her dimly lit apartment with a sigh. It was Friday, it had been a long week, and all she wanted to do was relax and have a nice, quiet evening in. She shrugged out of her coat and dropped her purse by the front door, then walked further into the apartment. She flicked on the lights, and saw her own reflection staring at her from the dark window. She shook her head as she approached the window, closing the curtain on her tired face.

She went back to her purse, dug out her phone, and opened up her music. What did she want to listen to tonight? she mused, as she entered the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, scrolling through her phone. Classical? She was too tired for that. Rock music from the 80s? It was too lively. She finally settled on an electropop duo from Ohio; it was the right blend of melancholic and upbeat for her current mood.

“She’s finally down for a nap,” Marie said with a sigh, sinking into the couch cushions.

“I didn’t know it was possible for anything to have that much energy,” Liam groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I knew she would have a weird sleep cycle, but I never imagined anything like this.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “I know! She had me up at 5am this morning, crying because she was so hungry. Sometimes,” she said, sliding a glance at Liam, “I just think she’s bored, or wants to prove she can boss us around.”

Theirs was a peaceful forest, until the Briar Witch arrived. One day, the clearing near the center had of the woods been open, the stream running alongside it clear and giving. The next, there was a little cottage surrounded by large hedges, encircling the clearing and damming the cheerful brook, diverting the water away from the citizens of the forest to instead grow and nourish the prickly bushes. For these were no ordinary hedges, but oversized, vicious plants, with jagged thorns and creeping vines.

At first, the creatures of the forest were curious. Who was this new being, with her small den and unusual vegetation? The mice were the first to investigate the new arrival, and were horrified by what they discovered.

Gabriel took in a deep breath. Not that he needed to breathe; he just knew humans did so before they had to complete an important task, and he was about to interact with humans again after several centuries and, you know, when in Rome. Another human phrase, that he didn’t quite understand, but knew this was the right context.

He gave himself one more moment, then stepped down from the astral plane, into a dimly lit apartment.

“Mary!” He cried, his voice ringing with angelic power, “I bear a message for you from the Almighty above!” He unfurled his majestic wings for affect, then glanced around. Usually humans would be crying in awe from his presence, but it took him a moment to even find the human he was looking for in all the clutter.

She fiddled with the ring on her index finger, feeling a hum of energy rise to meet her fingertip. Such a clever bit of magic, she thought. Instead of needing to pull on lots of power every time she wanted to cast a common spell, all she had to do was invoke the ring, and it did the work for her. She wondered idly what other tricks the ring’s maker might have known. Unfortunately, he had not survived her… questioning, and so she was left to imagine the possibilities. At least the ring spell wasn’t hard magic to replicate, and she had always adored jewelry.

She considered the scene before her. So messy. And yet, the best things in life always were. She pulled a small white handkerchief from one of the many pockets in her leather duster, and bent next to the rumpled form on the ground.