Zedie

After that, the young boy had consistently visited the lake every night in hopes of meeting her again. He knows it is foolish, knows that he may wait on this lake for the rest of the night if he does not stop, but he thinks the wait would be worth it, if it means he could talk to her again one more time.

He wants to thank her properly for saving him that night.

And so, tonight again he comes.

In the silence of the night, Alkaid gazes at the reflection of the moon that stretches a meter away from his feet. Honestly, he's tempted to reach out and touch it. But knowing last year's fiasco, he knows that making the same mistake again would be making a fool of himself.

"Sigh..." He sighs dejectedly, and looks up at the moon properly for the first time tonight.

Idly, he sings a song known to many, the same song he always hears as Qixi comes once more:

"In this autumn season, a picturesque canvas of flickering fishing lights upon Qiantang river is painted before our eyes." "Just like how ink spreads out within water, so is this scene etched upon my heart." "What a fine time, what beautiful scenery; I will like to share this night with you."

"Oh, wow." A sweet voice cuts in. "Forgive me for interrupting, but I don't suppose that's a song of festivities, is it?"

"It is." Alkaid answers reflexively. "I always hear my mom singing it during this time of the year..."

"..."

He stops short, whips his head towards the source of the voice, and finds the very goddess he has been waiting for sitting atop the pier alongside him, staring at Alkaid with a jovial smile.

"Ah..."

The young Alkaid lets out an involuntary gasp, and the goddess' eyes seem to shimmer with mirth, silently pleased with herself for succeeding in surprising this young child.

"Well?" She teased. "Won't you tell me more about this song?"

Over the past year, Alkaid had brainstormed dozens of things to say to her should he ever meet her again. But now that he has—and as a victim to her teasing no less—all he can do now is silently cover his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.

Unbeknownst to him, his ears are red too. But the moon goddess pretends she doesn't see it for his sake.

"There's no need to be shy," she says, trying to coax him. "You sang wonderfully, a pleasing sound for the ears."

It doesn't work, the boy is still stubbornly hiding his face, so she adds, "And it's true, I would love to learn the song for myself. I don't usually come down to the mortal world after all."

Groaning, the little Alkaid removes his hands away from his cheeks, revealing an adorable baby face true to his age. She has succeeded.

"Then, why did you come here today?" Hearing that she doesn't usually frequent the mortal world, Alkaid couldn't help himself from asking her this.

"A whim, I suppose," she responds to him casually. "I was worried about the little boy that almost drowned yesterday, so I thought it would be alright to take a quick look around."

'Yesterday?'

The accident had happened around a year ago.

As if sensing his confusion, the moon goddess gently clarified, "Time flows a little differently for us immortals. Perhaps you could say that a day in the heavens is equivalent to that of a year in the mortal realm."

To her, his fall into the lake was an event fresh in her mind, while he himself could barely recall what happened that day.

Slowly, reality sinks into him. It suffocates him a little, and impatience starts to swirl beneath his chest, sparking a feeling of restlessness along its wake.

Despite being an innocent child, Alkaid was not someone who believed in the divine, and most certainly not in the flimsy existence of gods. In his opinion, facts that he could see with his own eyes were worth more than tales written within olden pages of yore.

He has heard of them, however. About how these deities always come and go, about how they're far more fickle than the eastern wind while leaving nothing else but tales behind for these humans that walk above dirt, as if an afterthought.

The girl in front of him will not stay.

Carefully, Alkaid takes in a deep breath.

"I could teach you the song, though I may not be very good at that." Unconsciously smoothing out the ends of his coat, Alkaid offers her a proposal. There is a soundless continuation to it, and she tilts her head, smiling slightly while prompting him with a "But...?"

Alkaid turns to look at her properly, and she sees his peridot eyes gleam within the limelight cast down by her moonlight. He is determined, and it shines in the way he carries himself, creating an almost uncharacteristic look with his small frame.

"If I teach you the song...you have to come back next year—I mean, tomorrow. That's all I ask for."

"Sure!"

"As a mere mortal, I understand that it would be inappropriate for me to...huh?"

Her acceptance comes quicker than expected, and it takes him a few good seconds to register her words, causing his sentence to cut short.

"You...will?"

"Yes, I will." She offers him a cheeky smile ill-befitting of her status as a goddess. "I mean, this is one bargain I can't turn down after all."

A year ago, Alkaid had reached out to the moon's reflection in hopes of catching it. What he got in turn was success in the form of silver sleeves fluttering amidst the night wind, and an encounter with someone who he'll never forget.

He shall desire to hold on to the moon a little while longer.

'Next year.' Alkaid says to himself, almost as if he were chanting a prayer. 'I'll be able to see her again next year.'

His heart soars at the thought, but the impatience inside his chest continues to swirl ever so slightly stronger, as if unsatisfied.

For the rest of the night, he stays by her side, teaching her the song of the Qixi festival. Of course, it's a little embarrassing to be watched as he sang aloud.

It's worth it.

Soon, the song comes naturally to both him and her, as Alkaid takes care for every verse that spills out of his lips. The moon goddess does her best to follow him, clumsily singing along in tandem:

"As we enjoy the bright moon, and as the light wind brings us the fragrance of flowers." "Words are not enough to express our love for each other." "As we brave the storms in our lives together." "I only hope to stay by your side until Heaven becomes deserted!"

When the moon leaves for dawn, so too shall she part ways with him. But at the very least, he has her promise for next year.

Tonight, he arrives at the same lake, his attire neater and more put together than it should be for a mere midnight stroll. Within his clasped hands is a box of treats, ones he's made specially just for this meeting, just for her, hoping that she'd like it.

And maybe–just maybe–this will work enough as a bribe to convince her to come again next year, as foolish as that may make him.

Taking a deep sigh, Alkaid walks to the end of the pier and stares at the moon's reflection rippling across the lake. Catching his own image above the water, he takes note of the way he's grown a little taller, say maybe around two inches or so? At this rate, it won't be long until the vision of adolescence graces his figure. He considers sitting down as he waits for her, ready to wait even hours for this long-awaited meeting.

She comes quicker than he expects.

Just as he's ready to crouch down and sit, the moon's reflection starts to ripple, and like the cascading waves that throw themselves at shallow shore, moonlight pours down beside him and he sees her materialise right in front of him, figure aglow.

'Ah, she really did come.'

In all honesty, a part of him hadn't expected that.

Her eyes slowly open as she steadies her gaze upon him. The solemnity makes him draw a breath, but the tension doesn't last long, as her demeanour of elegance quickly switches to that of liveliness. A smile graces her face, and Alkaid lets out the sigh he had been unconsciously holding.

"Did you think I wouldn't come?" The first thing she does is tease him, obviously. "I made a deal with you, so of course I'll honour it."

Evidently, she has seen through his feelings of doubt.

It makes him feel a little guilty, however, and he gives her an apologetic look, slightly anxious that he might have offended her.

"Forgive me, my lady. I hadn't meant to offend you."

She waves it off. "Oh, don't worry about it, you didn't offend me at all. By the way..." Pointing to the box in his hands, she questions him with a curious look, much like a cat prodding at its object of interest. "What's that?"

"These are sweets." He holds up the box towards her. "I made them recently, they're meant to be simple gifts for neighbours and I was hoping I could give them to you today."

"Ah, so we're neighbours?" Her laugh shows her delight. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever asked you if you live near here."

"Um, yes. I do."

Casual conversation comes to them easier than it did last year, and maybe part of the reason was the goddess' ever-growing sense of casualness with this strange, but refined boy.

Honestly, even now, Alkaid still found it hard to believe it. Two years ago, he wouldn't even have dreamed of such a thing.

But now, here they are, chatting away as if they were old friends. He's guided her to a spot beneath a nearby tree, and points up to the colourful pieces of paper that hang on the branches, fluttering with the night wind.

"Recently, the townsfolk have taken a shine to a new fad, which originated from the furthermost east of the Eastern continent." He points to the nearest piece of paper. It's yellow. "You write your wishes on paper and tie them up, in hopes that the wish will come true."

The yellow strip of paper flutters down, and the moon goddess sees the string has been worn down. It must have been a while since it was last hung up, meaning that Qixi has passed by a long while ago.

Catching the paper within her hands, she muses, "Mortals truly do love this kind of tradition, don't they?"

Alkaid smiles, and casts his gaze further up to the highest of branches, where a green paper has been tied. He says nothing.

She flips the paper over and sees the wish written on it.

(I want to grow taller quickly.)

"Well?" She looks at him with an inquisitive gaze, the curl of a smile playing on her lips as if trying to mimic Alkaid's own smile. "What about you? Are any of your wishes hung up on this tree?"

"No."

It's both truth and lie. The green strip of paper steadily sways with the wind, its string sturdy and strong. Rather than a wish, the paper had served better as an outlet for his musings.

"Hm, should I make a wish?" She wonders aloud. "But I have neither paper nor brush to do so..."

Alkaid has the small urge to knock himself on the forehead for not thinking to prepare ahead.

"...I'm afraid I don't have either of those on me now." He offers an apologetic look. "If I wasn't in such a rush, I probably would've had the time to think about it a little more and bring them over."

"It's perfectly fine; I'll just bring my own materials next time." With deft hands, she takes a ribbon from her hairpiece and uses it to tie the yellow paper back to the branch. "If I were to rely on your gifts for enjoyment, I'm afraid that would simply be me unjustly extorting a young child."

"I'm okay with that."

"...I don't think you should."

Finally, they take their seat upon the grass, and the moon goddess opens the box of treats Alkaid had passed her to see glutinous rice cakes arranged haphazardly within the box. Alkaid panics a little upon seeing his handmade mess.

"I-I'm sorry. I really was in a rush—"

"Mhmm?" She has already placed one in her mouth. "Phwat jid you shay?"

How unbecoming of a deity.

But he likes it. The more Alkaid sees this side of her, the more his illusion of the ethereal goddess he first met fades away, replaced by something more genuine, more real.

Is this change good or bad?

Chest filled with relief, Alkaid shakes his head in slight exasperation. "It's nothing. Please enjoy the rice cakes."

"Thank you very much. Ah, that's right." She takes one out from the box and hands one out to him. "You should have some yourself."

"Oh, it's alright." He shakes his head reverently. "These are your gifts, and thus yours for the taking."

Truth be told—while Alkaid does enjoy sweet things—having eaten these rice cakes every night for the past month has made him slightly sick of them, but he couldn't tell her that.

"Come on now." She's quite the convincing one, her offer persistent as she continues to hold the rice cake out to him. "I'd feel bad if I ate something so delicious by myself; after all, good things should be shared."

Meekly, he takes it, not caring at all about his current exhaustion of rice cakes as he asks her, "...They were delicious?"

"Very!"

Are his cheeks red? His ears? Can she hear his thundering heartbeat? Alkaid internally fusses over how he looks right now, worried that she'll somehow realise that his soaring heart is filled with joy from her words alone.

His ears are most certainly red enough for her to notice, but again, she pretends not to see it.

As if changing the subject for his sake, she notes, "Ah, earlier you said you were in a rush, right? Was there something you were busy with?"

"Not really. It's just that...I actually have a curfew for bed every night, so I had to quickly prepare everything without being noticed." His grin sheepish, he adds, "My parents would find it strange if every snack I make somehow disappeared before morning, so I had to make sure they didn't notice."

Laughing, she says, "Your appearance is like that of the perfect model of a young master, but who knew you were the rule-breaking type?"

"Well, they'll lift the curfew eventually, then I won't be a rule-breaker anymore." Alkaid gazes at his hands, which are still as small as a child's. "I'll be turning into a proper teenager soon."

"But even when you're an adult, I'm sure curfews will still exist somehow."

Her wording catches his interest. "...Do celestials have curfews too?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Though perhaps they're slightly different than what you may think they are." Giggling like a young girl, the moon goddess leans in closer, as if ready to whisper a secret to him. Alkaid catches a whiff of her fragrance—light and lovely—as she tells him;

"You see, I had to sneak out of the Moon Palace to come meet you."

"Oh...Is that so?"

"Yup." Drawing back, she gives him a playful wink and holds a finger to her lips, creating a shushing gesture. "So as fellow troublemakers, keep this a secret for me won't you?"

"...Yeah." Alkaid wonders if he's smiling properly as he replies, "Of course I will."

If she's noticed anything off about his expression, she does not say it. He watches as she turns her gaze to the sky, all the way to the moon, and in her expression, he sees the emotion of reverence, and slight guilt. At the sight, the smile he wears becomes even more strained.

'...Is the Heavenly Palace okay with that?'

While he isn't sure what the Heavens think of those who break the rules, surely they wouldn't be happy, right?

As the moon goddess looks up to the sky, the place where she belongs, Alkaid looks up to her instead and thinks:

'Ah, it's as I thought; I can't make her stay.'

If he asks her to come next time, surely she will, if only for a friend.

But he shouldn't.

At the topmost branch of the tree, faint words could be seen on the worn-out strip of green paper.

(What is allowed closest to the moon?)

As their time together ends and she's ready to leave, he does not ask her to come next year, and says instead, "Goodbye." Alkaid thinks she's caught on to his true feelings as she promises to come back soon as she dissipates into the moonlight. But however soon that shall be for her, he has no faith in it being a short wait for himself at all.

Maybe another year, maybe even longer than that.

Maybe the next time he sees her, he'll stand in front of her all wrinkled, frail, and old.

'I don't want that.'

The boy on the verge of turning into a young adult stares at the stars with an intensity like never before.

'I...have to keep trying.'

To be as close to the moon as his mortal body would allow.

"On the night of the Qixi Festival, silver candles give off a candescent glow." "And the magpies perched upon willow branches are singing their hearts out underneath the bright, new moon." "Within the bluestone alley, lanterns flicker and sway." "As I hold onto your hand, and play out the roles of the Weaver Girl and Cowherd."

Turning around, an elderly man adjusts his monocle as he reads out the scroll in his hands, assessing the newest trainee of the Imperial Astronomy Hall.

"...Alkaid, huh? From what I've heard, you've passed the novice entrance exam with flying colours, and have shown initiative in forming friendly relationships with those around you, so there won't be any worries with your work ethic either..."

Looking away from the scroll, the astronomer fixes his eyes instead on the young man in front of him. The boy looks to be around 15 to 16, not a bad age to start learning astronomy at all. Furthermore, this boy is naturally talented, so there's no reason to turn down his application.

"Though this is more of a personal question of mine, I have to ask, what made you want to learn astronomy?"

"..."

Alkaid then answers;

"It is because I find the moon fascinating, and would love to learn more about it."

"Really, that's it?"

The old man mutters a slightly rude statement to himself aloud, seemingly perplexed. But Alkaid pays it no mind, and continues smiling.

"Well, I do find the study of astronomy to be an engrossing subject, so I suppose you could say it is something I'm passionate about."

With a smile so dazzling, the old astronomer has little choice but to flinch back at the brightness Alkaid exudes. The more he talks to him, the more befuddled he becomes, and as if given up on trying to understand, the old man nods his head quickly, saying, "W-well, since you're so interested in it, accepting your application is no problem at all. So if you would, please fill out your information over here..."

To those around them, they would only see well of the charming young teen whose talents have allowed him to excel in his studies, along with a well-mannered personality, which has earned him the favour of many.

They don't think further about his given reason for studying astronomy, and only he knows the real motive as to why he chose this path.

Till this day, he wonders still, "How can I keep close to the moon?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zedieame REEEEEEE!!! You deserve every wish given to you on your birthday, so good luck on everything you do!!! If you're interested in the song mentioned above, here's a link!

With horror twisting your lips into a grimace, you gaze silently at the empty tray of cookies, sat upon the table unsuspectingly. No crumbs remain on its surface, though that speaks more to the character of the man who accidentally devoured them than any skill on your part. Alkaid has always been like this, even when your delicious cookies were nothing more than chunks of coal.

Despite the conclusions you manage to draw so easily, a question—one qualified enough to be called idiotic—slips out of you.

"Did you…" You swallow the lump in your throat. "Did you eat all of these cookies?"

Alkaid chuckles, smiling warmly. "Of course. They were as delicious as always."

On the topic of love potions, sweet in taste as they are, they tend to be amber in color. Sugar turned into caramel, or honey gleaming in the sunlight, as your friend once described it. A treat perfectly suited to her tastes.

Food dye is what brings out the pink hue oft associated with love, and the association is such that there are those who believe that love potions in any other color are simply…

Defective.

It was this same association that led Ehlonna—who came to you in tears, her once-in-a-lifetime request as much a paradox of selfishness and selflessness as she herself was—to request a more natural approach. As the soon-to-be Princess of Leighton, even so much as a hint that a love potion existed in her possession could not only be damaging to her reputation, but would incite needless worry in her brother and father.

Her brother who has just inhaled a plate full of cookies made accidentally with the love potion you crafted for her.

You don't scream. For one, you can't scream, but it is a near thing. The devil whispers in your ear, isn't this a good thing? And it takes a frightening amount of time for your conscience to talk you down.

This is why you don't play around with love potions.

"That's good." An awkward smile. An even more awkward silence. "And you feel okay? They didn't taste…funny?"

The love of your life laughs again. You think it's deserved, a little. A lot. It takes the embarrassing sting off the joke that is your current existence. How does one accidentally put a love potion in a batch of cookies? They run out of sugar and attempt to make due with honey.

How does one mistake a love potion for honey? They put it in an inconspicuous jar and wake up to bake at three in the morning. All because of a nightmare, one as equally like to come true as the opposite, where the groom looked suspiciously like the man in front of you and a blob of colors substituted as the bride.

"Have more faith in your baking," he says gently, holding his teacup to his lips.

On average, knights are not the best at holding their own against magic of any sort. But Alkaid bucks the trend by being startlingly difficult to hex, which, by all accounts, should bode well for him.

Except for the fact that he did, in fact, succumb to the last potion you tested on him. Trust, after all, is a powerful thing. It knocked him out for a week, and when he woke up, it was to the sight of your inconsolable form at his bedside. Even his own family wasn't half as concerned, though his father did advise against using him as a test subject in the future.

"I do," you say numbly, resting your arm atop the chair. Soon enough, it is your entire body that the wooden dining chair—one older than even you—must support. "I really do…"

His amused smile fades, making way for an expression full of concern. Setting the teacup down, he asks, "Has something happened?"

You exhale.

Ordinarily, you would confess everything to him. But everything entails secrets that are not yours to give away. Like the part about Ehlonna nearly taking a lover, for one. How the prospect of marrying for duty terrifies her enough that she would sooner numb herself to the world. How the love of her life vanished at the start of the month, the only proof of his existence being the whispers of the townsfolk and the songs the children sing.

So, you play around with the truth instead, to the best of your ability.

"I think…" You slip onto the seat in front of you with a sigh and a careful bite of your lip. "I think I poured a truth serum into those cookies. It's not where I keep it anymore."

But no one said it'd be a good lie.

His eyebrows nearly disappear under his bangs. You've always appreciated the siblings' willingness to go along with whatever excuses you offer them. Call it gullibility, as some people do, but you think it veers on blind faith.

Whatever questions he has sit on the tip of his tongue—then he swallows them back down and places a hand over his forehead. Gently moving the tray to the side, you lean in close, upper body crossing half the table as you wait your turn.

Alkaid has always made note of your hands. How they often run cold, instead of warm. The telltale increase in body temperature that results from love potions, then, could be obfuscated by that fact.

Frustration knits your eyebrows together. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you ask:

"Do you feel like telling me anything?"

"Not particularly," he answers, looking concerned. For you, you suspect. Then, he takes your hands and squeezes them gently. "It's been a long time since that day. It isn't out of the realm of possibility that I've gained some resistance since then."

Your expression tells him all you'd like him to know. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility—if he was anyone else. You'd love to give him some other potion to prove your point, but you can't risk him getting knocked out before the delegation for the Kingdom of Leighton comes knocking on Eden's door for their new princess.

Which is…

Two days from now.

You feel yourself breaking into cold sweat again. The potion takes a month to make.

And Ehlonna is nice. Ehlonna is understanding. Ehlonna is your best friend, and with love troubles of her own under her belt, she will surely understand your circumstances. There's nothing to forgive, her saintly voice echoes in your mind.

On her part, sure.

On your part? Absolutely not.

The smile on your lips grows forced. At the same time, Alkaid reaches out and brushes your bangs out of your face—and you'd love to draw conclusions, but he's always been like this.

"Alright, why don't you ask me a question?" he proposes, half-exasperatedly. "If you've wanted to ask anything at all, now's your chance."

Do you love me?

You swallow the lump in your throat with great difficulty. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green." A lie. The answer is purple.

"What's your favorite season?"

"Summer." A lie. The answer is undetermined—his usual line is, Spring is the season flowers bloom, but Winter is the season we met.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Whatever you and Ehlonna make." A truth. He'd have to be the liar of a lifetime if it wasn't.

This back-and-forth continues for a while longer, his initial reason for visiting nearly forgotten by both of them. It's not as though they'd made any progress on coming up with a fun night for Ehlonna anyways. You'd preemptively rejected places that were sure to remind her of Yin, which left the two of you with almost no options in the nearby town.

Eventually, you run out of questions, but the soft smile on Alkaid's lips does not fade. The devil whispers in your ear, and, for some reason, he sounds a bit like Yin, Ask: do you love me?

You opt for a slightly different question. "Is there a girl you like?"

His eyebrows furrow at the question, and his lips purse. He looks a bit uncomfortable, really. But it's only for a brief moment before he smiles again.

"Yes." A statement, undetermined.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, "Is that a truth or a lie?"

"Which one would you rather it be?" he counters.

Silence engulfs the home you inherited from your mother. It's deep in the forest near Eden's capital, with enchantments cast specifically to keep it hidden from unwanted guests. If someone wants to commission you for a magical product, they must ask during your business hours, at the quaint little art store you own.

The lavender walls of the dining room seem quite intriguing, all of a sudden—even to an eye like yours, which has seen them since birth. There's a few scratches on the table from when you were a child, and the chair slats feel more uncomfortable that usual when you lean back against them.

It would be easy enough to pick the first option, you think. But if the end result is anything like your dream…

Eden—more specifically, you—can only handle one broken-hearted mage right now.

"Who is it?" you eventually spit out, to the tune of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Regret instantly floods your veins, but it's too late to back out. Your mother did not raise a coward, nor did she raise someone unaffected by sunk-cost.

"She's…" He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. "Wonderful. Kind. The most beautiful woman in the world—"

You wonder if you can tune him out.

You wonder if you should.

Every little compliment functions like a dagger, repeatedly stabbing you in the heart. Even so, you count each one and wonder, Could that be me? Who else does Alkaid know who sometimes eats like a slob? You're not proud of it, but hunger often has a way of making you forgo niceties.

And it can't be his cat, either. Sparkles, despite his name, is not a girl.

"Is she sitting in front of you?" you blurt out finally, when it seems like he's about to stop. Then, to make up for your mistake, you bury your head in your hands and pray this ritual grants you invisibility.

"How'd you know?"

When you look up, Alkaid is smiling his usual gentle smile.

THERE IS A LITTLE FOOTNOTE in the banned potion's textbook that provided the recipe for this love potion. You learn about it that night, after pulling the book out of your shelf to occupy your sleepless night in a productive manner.

Half of it is written in a handwriting you've only ever seen in letters your father wrote before his untimely death—the one you modeled the curves of your alphabet after. The other half is written in your mother's handwriting, still in cursive, but with a definitive air of practicality to it, in that it would nearly be illegible to anyone else but you.

It says:

A love potion will not go into effect if the target of the ingester's affection and the first person they see are one and the same. In rare cases, with sufficient willpower, if the two people are separate, the ingester will be able to overcome its effects.

Biting your lips has no effect on your ever-growing smile. Neither does the prospect of having to tell Ehlonna about your mistake dampen your excitement about today's events.

Perhaps that makes you a bad friend. Perhaps wondering if the love potion would've failed anyway, owing to Ehlonna and her brother having an incredible willpower, makes you a bad friend too. In any case, in the following days, it ceases to matter, because your hunch about Ehlonna's fate happens to be correct.

Just not in the form you expected.

When you finally show her and her new husband the textbook—smuggling it into the manor carefully and quietly, though the Duke tends to turn a blind eye to your shenanigans—on the day after their wedding, the three of you can only laugh, as you did in the old days.