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The theory was simple but not without potential consequences for Loren's mortality, so he asked Virginia and Gabriella to help him test it safely. Gabriella was a naturally strong swimmer and had recently done a lifeguard internship, in which she 'saved' a few swimmers feigning floundering about while training, so she volunteered to retrieve Loren if anything went wrong. Virginia had a fully charged phone in her bum bag ready to call for help, too.

Now for Loren's part to play. He sprinted from the beach house to the waves, his skin smoking as he flew across the sand. The waves were coming in gently today but he hit them with a clumsy crash before finally getting shoulder deep. He turned and gave the girls a thumbs up.

"There he goes. I don't see any smoke. Do you, Gab?"

"No." Gabriella was still watching her uncle bob around, determined to be ready for anything, just in case. But the fact remained: the telltale sign of the sun singing Loren's skin was gone. It was the middle of the day, in the full heat of the middle of summer, and he wasn't holed up under the sunlamp in his shed with the blinds drawn. Whether it was the salt of the sea protecting him, or Virginia's half-joking theory that he was a merman, he could now join his family in the sun.

In addition to Emily becoming an avid fisher, she was quite the catch herself. Emilia took great care to remind her wife of this when she rose early to head down to the village river and set up her tackle in her favourite spot, where the sun slowly caressed her cheeks and the stream sped along, a marine motorway with the morning commute. Meanwhile, Emilia would get her beauty sleep in a little longer. This was a new luxury, now that Elmo was a teenager and happy to make his own breakfast (he liked his cereal with cream and berries, just so).

Of course the kind of gentleman who could afford to take a date to Londoste was also able to hearken back to the Highlands for style inspiration. Nathaniel Traveller was many things: distinguished, hot, distinctly Capp-like in his chiselled features, hot. He was also a relative of Dot's ex-boyfriend Sunny but focused on that she was not. It was all about that kilt right now, glinting emerald at Dot under the table, a beckoning to skip dessert.

As luck would have it, Nathaniel wanted to take a look at the wedding space upstairs, where Dot knew for a fact there was a photobooth with enough privacy to do what they wished.

Seeing Quinn toss her cap in the air made Imogen remember who she was: a Capp heiress. Not at the top of that pile, mind you, but still a woman with the Capp name. And if she was going to keep the perks of that name, she had to prove her pudding. So, in addition to keeping up her relationship with Teddy and working on her own assignments, Imogen took cousins and sorority sisters Hollis and Summer under her wing as well, despite being a relatively fresh sophomore to their seen-it-all junior years. Altruism - the quality that never went out of style!

Me. In between daydreams of plump pink brains, Hi caught glances of himself in the mirror, grey and gagging. The faeries told him he smelled like a titan arum, smiling in between their sips of hot lemon and honey served by Ida. Corpse flower. Why couldn't they just say it? The scent of his skin was sickly and it was only becoming stronger as he got older. Lavender baths were only doing so much. He hated seeing Ida set her face in stone, as if holding off a nose scrunch, while her watering eyes gave her away.

So did the words she muttered in her sleep.

"Let him rest. We gotta let him rest. What... what have we done."

Warmer weather lent itself to sitting on the porch, so that's what Hi did, night and day. Maybe the absence of his cold body would help Ida get the sleep she needed to work at the hospital on her shift rotation. During the day, he could keep an eye on Tech playing in the front yard with his friends while he gripped both hands to a hot lemon and honey.

His desk buddy at the agency knew a guy, who knew a hacker who knew how to access "not necessarily the black but, like, the grey area market if you get what I mean", where one could obtain a single seed of the supernaturally-rumoured human-eating plant. It was a long shot that Cliff followed through burner phones and layers of VPNs to get to, lest he and anyone involved along the way be fired or arrested or worse. Cannibalistic plants weren't simply a search engine away for the plebs of the general public to access. Such botanical life was reserved for wealthy underbellies, like the Tricou family; since Eartha's aunt, who was part of that family, refused to help, Cliff was left with no other choice but to add a possibly inert seed to his cart.

Spoiler alert: it was not inert. The cherry on top? The forums weren't trolling about the cow-shape of the plant's flower.

"Babe, what is this?" Eartha asked one day, fascinated but incredulous as she laid down on the grass at the plant's level for a closer look. There was no point hiding it away from her; Cliff had a feeling the eventual size of the thing would make keeping it a secret logically impossible without a deep basement or bunker - domains of the rich. He managed to whip up a plausible explanation about a work experiment, creating new plant life for vegan milk production that tasted just the same as dairy. The truth was too confronting for Cliff to speak aloud, least of all to his wife.

The wants and needs of Vespera herself were also considered in her friend's thoughtful gift. Helen scoured the boutique internet for the linen-scented candle, Vespera's favourite, that had no stock left with the vendor at the village market (which was, admittedly, Vespera's doing). This along with coveted parenting items like incrementally up-sized baby onesies and no-tears baby wipes made Vespera feel much better about the little guy who was bouncing on her bladder with more oomph every day.

Hopefully Cian would feel more at ease with his son's arrival too. He was excited for Patrick to arrive, of course, but anxiety attacks had been plaguing his chest lately. He admitted tearfully to Vespera that he missed his dad now more than ever because he never really got to know what dads were supposed to do.

It was tragic but true. Sean Barnett was declared dead; Patricia stepped back from her fight for answers before she died. The family might never know what happened and Vespera could see the pain in her husband's eyes, even as he ran his hand over her belly and spoke to wee Pat.

Patience liked having her own space and peace to raise her son but she didn't mind hosting gatherings every once in a while. Her stately home in the centre of the village felt more like a heartbeat when Capps and Capps-adjacent streamed up the front path bearing bubbly bottles and golden gifts. She especially looked forward to catching up with her step-cousin Teddy at Lysander's birthday party; his fraternity brother adventures would be an absolute hoot to hear about!

There was no need to hire a boutique cake designer for the occasion, as Galaad was available to whip up anything the family wanted in-house (gluten free confetti was selected after careful consideration). Clovis cracked a joke about finding a single grey strand of fur in his slice that Patience was quick to admonish him for with a strong pointed index finger. Galaad was her oldest companion, practically a Capp himself - his handiwork was to be praised on high, nothing less! Sometimes she forgot just how far removed from high society newcomers to the family could be, a plebian phenomenon her own husband was apparently not exempt from. She apologised to Galaad but he brushed it off with a gentle smile: "Does our Lysander like it? That's all that matters to me."

Adele, Jazz, Snow, and Ever would never get to sit on their granddad's knee and tug on his handknit sweaters and ask for storytime. Woody did his best to introduce them by showing photos and answering every curious question - was he nice? Would he play with us? What did he smell like? Yes, yes, and a box of English Breakfast teabags in the pantry. Then, the girls would ask about aunt Penny too, and Helen would press her hand to Woody's shoulder and step in at this point so he could go out to the garden and stare at the sky.

Why - why weren't they still here?

Life went on. Woody's phone would buzz in his pocket and he'd talk to his son Teddy for an hour about the latest Land Grant University goings-on, and he'd pass the phone so the girls could talk to their big brother.

Iver made up for slacking off a semester at university by arriving home with a graduation paper and a celebrant certification he earned online. Whether it was legit or not, Robyn happily accepted her twin brother as the one to marry her and Autumn.

An open invite was sent to all the village to converge on the Old Farm Garden; even some Monty family members showed up due to Robyn's late aunt Nico being married to their Sebastian, in spite of Robyn's wife being a Capp. Perhaps previous Summerdream spells were weaving their way down the generations, healing them of old wounds along the way. Either way, Robyn was rapt to take Autumn's name. They would soon make their way to the farm across the road to start their family.

After the officiating of love came the acceptance of long lives lived - both Taffy the dog and Beasley the cat were found curled up together in the garden, eyes closed and smiles eternal amongst the flowers. Puck spoke of their connection with Jules in his eulogy: one did not have to be a faerie or any kind of magical being to be connected with animals.

They were newlywed to Desdemona so of course the lawyer had to factor that in. However, a very important piece had to stay on the board - Xander's first wife, and mother of their son, Ariel, who was also Des' younger sister. The lawyer displayed no surprise at the web being spun across documents, as she was both a professional and no stranger to how the Capp family operated, but Xander themself raised an eyebrow. What kind of hierarchy had they created by Capp-hopping? Would a mess be left behind if they were taken off the board before their loved ones, old and new?

The only reason the matter of the will had come up was because Gordana the poodle passed away. She was an old girl but the loss was no less devastating; the family cooed over her flawless cloud puffs after going to the groomers and lavished her with luxury treats every second day in between short sniff-walks around Owlberry Lake to keep her enriched. Nothing could last forever; that was the lesson.

Xander envied their nephew Marley for being a graduate with a whole life ahead of him. He appeared to be falling in love, or at least, having the same person at home overnight lately.

Margaret's family line was so far removed from faerie origins that she could only guess at evergreen gossip. In the early days of dating when she and Fricorith would walk hand-in-hand through the city, past the gaggles of tipsy non-teetotallers toddling in ill-advised shoe choices and amorphous suits toasting to their latest deal with a possible devil late into the night, Fricorith would glance at council-placed shrubs and chuckle. They're saying we look good together, he would translate. Mother nature could've been saying anything, really; Margaret would never know.

She thought the sun wouldn't have anything to say to her either. Fricorith found that out while going through his wife's personal effects, a tragic nugget of context in her last diary entry before the pile of ash with her ruby encrusted gold necklace peeking out was found by the butler on the grounds of the House of Fallen Trees.

Being locked out of earth's forum, written in Margaret's lush cursive voice, must be the curse in my blood weakening. I will have to test the sun. I will bear any burn gladly, knowing that Minerva could walk in the day without it.