The first snow of the season fell without warning, and it soon covered the entire valley of Nessar in a thin layer of white frosting. The tables and chairs from the deck had long been moved inside, and the expansive space atop the Mythical Ward was covered in a soft, snowy carpet. Despite the lack of spots to eat and the frigid temperatures, the deck was buzzing with hordes of patients looking for a playful reprieve from their daily struggles — or, in Oscar’s case, a distraction from recent discoveries.

  Most of the therapy group was present, except for Ferdinand and Apollo. The recovering phoenix was not a fan of cold weather to begin with, and the fear of his jar breaking in the scuffle was enough to have him sit this one out. Apollo, on the other hand, was just being himself when he declared he had other places to be — no one knew what these places were and where one could find them, but Flynn figured it best not to ask. While he didn’t exactly like the moody griffin, he also didn’t want to expose him in front of Patricia, who apparently believed in the very best of every person, animal, and mythical creature she met.

  “Maybe he’ll join us later,” she’d theorized, ignoring Dora’s skeptical eye roll.

  Unlike the snow-covered mountains, the emotional landscape of Flynn’s mind was a complicated one. A weight had fallen off his chest when he told the group, and Oscar in particular, that his role as a caretaker was not as altruistic as it may seem — only he felt like he’d dropped that weight straight on Oscar. The large dragon had tried to downplay the severity of his betrayal, but Flynn could tell that the blue reptile wasn’t quite the same. At least not yet.

  He was convinced the dragon would get back to his careless self eventually.

  Surely.

  Right?

  Uncertainty crept up on Flynn like a chill breeze, and his neck hair bristled.

  If the dragon couldn’t forgive him, his life would be ruined. Nothing would—

  Splash.

  Flynn’s vision went dark, and he stumbled backwards, his head ringing like a church bell. His cheek felt searing hot and biting cold at the same time, and it tingled with a prickly sensation.

  “Got you!” Leonardo, the centaur, neighed.

  Flynn’s sluggish mind slowly caught up to the present. His eyes scurried to the horseman, who posed victoriously a few feet away from him. The hoof that had inexplicably thrown the snowball was resting on his kilt’s belt, a smug expression on his prominent horse lips.

  “Ouch,” Flynn muttered, dumbfounded.

  The horseman shifted. “Oh,” he said, and the triumphant smile vanished. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? I guarantee—”

  His last words got cut off abruptly when a frozen projectile the size of a cannonball drilled into the side of his head and sent the centaur flying, mane and scarf in tow.

  “Bjorn!” Patricia cried out, burying her shocked face in her palms.

  The cyclops walked over to Ferdinand to inspect his work. A satisfied nod concluded his business.

  “You can’t do that,” the mermaid continued as if talking to a child.

  She was wearing a violet wool hat atop her pink hair and a pearlescent puffer jacket. Her scaly turquoise legs were shimmering in the pale sunlight. Overall, she looked like a cupcake.

  Dora slowly made her way across the field of snow, each paw carefully placed in front of the other, to reduce contact with the solidified water as much as possible. A green scarf was wrapped around her furry neck, matching the color of her eyes almost perfectly.

  When she reached Leonardo, she gently licked the back of his head.

  “Gross!” Flynn blurted, but was relieved when the cat’s gesture seemed to free the horseman from his momentary stupor.

  Still dazed, Leonardo got back up on his human feet and surveyed his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time.

  “My, my,” he neighed, “That was a mighty hit, old chap.”

  Bjorn grunted appreciatively and started forming another massive snowball.

  A few moments later, Elli joined their jolly group. Her dark hair stood in stark contrast to the surrounding snow, her cheeks flushed. She gave Bjorn and the weapon in his hands a probing look, but apparently chose to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “I see you’re all enjoying yourselves,” she said cheerfully, her green eyes resting on Leonardo’s swollen cheek for just a moment.

  “Winter is such a lovely time of year,” Patricia declared, clapping her gloved hands.

  The therapist smiled brightly, shedding her professional mask. “And I’ve got just the thing to make it even better.”

  She yanked her hand into the air and presented a large, orange carrot.

  “Who wants to build a snow unicorn?”

  About an hour later, they were standing in front of the fruits of their labor. They had used Leonardo’s upper body as a model, which left the tail end of their snow creature rather disproportionate. The carrot had been drilled into the inanimate unicorn’s forehead, where it provided a nice dash of color and contrast. Bjorn had done most of the sculpting while instructing the others on how not to ruin his work.

  Overall, the result was impressive.

  “I wish Rain could be here,” Oscar murmured.

  The dragon was standing next to Flynn, a few feet removed from the others.

  Flynn scratched his chin. “Well, he could have been here — he simply didn’t want to.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “He is just a bit shy around other people. He doesn’t want to make them feel bad.”

  “Who does?” Flynn heard himself say.

  An uncomfortable silence followed.

  “Anyway, I think it turned out great,” he quickly added.

  Oscar smiled wearily. “Yes, it did.”

  “Even looks like Rain.”

  “You think?”

  “Except for the horn, maybe.”

  “And the facial expression,” the dragon added while inspecting the wide smile Patricia had carved into the snow unicorn’s face.

  They both chuckled.

  “Hey, you two!” Patricia exclaimed as she waddled over. “I just had a great idea.”

  Her golden eyes rested on each of them for a brief moment.

  “Why don’t we all warm up in my jacuzzi?”

  Flynn could feel his facial features slide. “You have a jacuzzi?”

  The mermaid’s cheeks glowed with excitement as she nodded firmly.

  “How?”

  “I asked for one,” she said innocently.

  “That’s an option?”

  Patricia shrugged. “It depends on your insurance plan.”

  A sour taste coated the inside of Flynn’s mouth. “I see.”

  Patricia’s room was nothing like Flynn’s and Oscar’s room. It was bright and colorful, the walls decorated with trinkets, garlands, and paper lamps. A fuzzy, rainbow-colored carpet covered most of the floor, and the sweet scent of bubblegum hung in the air.

  To Flynn’s surprise, Dora was Patricia’s roommate. The cat had curled up on her bed on one side of the room and was eyeing their guests skeptically, while Patricia gave them a brief but wholesome apartment tour. Giggling with excitement, she showed them her most prized possession — a jacuzzi, large enough to host at least ten of her size, but significantly too small for a dragon. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, though, and while the others got ready to hop into the steaming water, he already dipped one of his massive front feet in.

  Flynn, Elli, Patricia, Leonardo, and Bjorn got in one after the other, their bodies rejoicing as they submerged their cold limbs. Flynn grabbed the spot next to Oscar’s paw and wrapped his arm around the scaly leg. The dragon looked down at him with a shy smile and hummed ever so slightly, sending waves across the pool.

  In a matter of holiday-induced hubris, Ferdinand, whom they’d picked up on the way, demanded to be lowered into the water, where he soon floated in between their feet.

  “What a treat,” the pile of ash could be heard, though his voice was dull and muted as a result of being half-submerged.

  “You haven’t seen the half of it,” Patricia fluted with a cheeky smile.

  Her hand reached behind the pool’s rim, and seconds later, tennis-ball-sized bubbles started emerging everywhere at once. The jar of phoenix started heaving through the waves like a boat caught in a storm, triumphantly sputtering tales of past adventures at sea. Just before he capsized, Bjorn plucked him out of the raging water with two bulky fingers and put the rambling jar on a small side table.

  “… which is when we decided to sink the whole thing, if you can believe it,” Ferdinand concluded his yarn, before Patricia started patting him dry with a towel.

  They chuckled and let their gazes wander. Everyone seemed happy, even the notoriously apathetic cyclops. Dora, who was watching from her bed, purred in amusement. When Flynn looked up at Oscar, he found the dragon’s expression calm and cheerful.

  Surely he’d already forgotten about Flynn’s admission.

  Right?

  “This time of year is just the best,” Patricia reemphasized with a relaxed sigh. “The lights, the snow, the baths — what’s not to love?”

  The bubbles were slowly subsiding, a few of them lingering suspiciously long around the cyclops.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Leonardo remarked with his characteristic lisp, “I always thought mermaids preferred warmer climates. Is that not the case?”

  Patricia twirled a strand of pink hair, a coy smile on her lips. “Warm water is enough. For the rest, I have clothes.”

  She gestured at an extensive wardrobe by the door. Dora followed their gazes and meowed disapprovingly. Flynn figured the werehuman possessed only a fraction of the clothes the mermaid put on display — most of the month, she didn’t really need any clothes.

  The scarf suits her, though, Flynn caught himself thinking.

  He pulled a face and shook his head.

  “Ridiculous!” he muttered, more to himself.

  “What?” Oscar puffed in surprise.

  “Nothing.”

  “I wish Apollo were here,” Patricia suddenly said, her voice laced with sadness.

  “He doesn’t like company,” the cyclops mused. “Especially at this time of year.”

  Patricia pursed her lips. “We are not company, we are family.”

  “Seems like he disagrees,” Flynn muttered, but felt bad when he saw the mermaid’s pout.

  Unable to read the room, Ferdinand stirred on top of his side table.

  “The Festival of Light is just always so special,” the jar declared. “It’s every phoenix’s favorite time of the year. All the decorative lights remind us of our own inner spark, and rekindles our resurrective passion.”

  “Sounds like you need more than a spark to rekindle much of anything,” Bjorn grunted, shoving one of his bulky pinkies into his ear.

  “That’s rather unkind, Bjorn,” Elli protested. “And the Festival of Light is all about kindness.”

  “I thought it was about presents,” the cyclops murmured casually.

  Flynn gulped.

  Presents.

  Dragons loved presents. Especially his dragon. And he still had to come up with one. He was almost certain Oscar had already figured out some amazing gift idea, and after his recent transgressions, he at least had to match whatever the large reptile had come up with.

  Besides, it was the closest thing to a hoard this dragon would ever get.

  But then, the mention of the Festival of Light spawned yet another thought that gave Flynn pause.

  “Were all of you already here during the last Festival of Light?” he asked into the round.

  “Except for you, obviously,” he added, nodding in Ellis direction.

  She gently bowed her head.

  The others exchanged knowing glances. Finally, it was Patricia who spoke.

  “We’ve all been here for years.”

  “Years!?” Flynn exclaimed and almost lost his footing.

  “Years,” Bjorn repeated flatly, as if Flynn had trouble hearing.

  In his confusion, Flynn first glanced at Oscar, then at Elli.

  “Not to be rude, but maybe you picked the wrong profession?”

  The therapist shot him a patient smile, but it was Leonardo who responded.

  “On the contrary, dear friend. None of us has ever felt at home anywhere until we came here. We stay because we want to. And that’s largely thanks to Adeline.”

  Flynn opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  Would this be Oscar’s fate? Would the dragon want to stay here forever?

  And what would become of Flynn?

  “It’s really not as bad as it sounds,” Ferdinand interjected cheerfully, his particles a lively flurry. “We’re family. And it shows the most during the Festival of Light.”

  Flynn nodded stiffly and glanced at Dora.

  Naturally, the cat’s knowing green eyes were fixated on him, heavy with implication.