The morning air had a crispness to it, the windows clouded just enough to catch the light. I stood in the kitchen, wrapping the still-warm pie I had baked the night before. Cinnamon lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hum of the kettle on the stove. Mari was already perched at the counter with a mug of coffee, hair pulled into a loose messy plait, scrolling idly through her phone.

The porch steps were still warm from the day’s sun, though the air had shifted into that in-between hour when shadows stretch long and the light turns soft. I sat halfway down, elbows resting on my knees, the hem of my sweater brushing against my thighs. From the street came the faint hum of a neighbor’s radio and the occasional hiss of tires on pavement.

The sun spilled lazily through the kitchen window, catching the steam rising from my mug of ginseng. Miso had already claimed the sunny patch on the floor, sprawled out like a little furry sentinel who occasionally meowed if I didn’t acknowledge her often enough. I was halfway through flipping a batch of banana pancakes when she yawned at me, slow and dramatic, as if she’d been supervising all morning.

By the time Mari and I pulled into my driveway, the sky had shifted into that hazy blue that comes right before dusk. The car smelled faintly of apples and cinnamon; the trunk was still packed with bags from the orchard. We’d been replaying the weekend in little bursts the whole ride home, laughing about her “adventurous” city-to-country driving, which really just meant I ended up behind the wheel for most of the trip back.

Wanda, feeling neglected by her career-driven partner Mateo, decides to leave with their daughter Arabella, packing only essentials as she seeks a fresh start with her friend Penelope.

The drive out of the city felt like slipping into another season entirely. The trees along the highway traded steel and glass backdrops for rolling fields touched with gold. Mari kept the music low, occasionally making dramatic gasps at my turns, which earned her more than one playful side-eye. “You’re lucky I drove most of the way,” I teased, easing the car onto the narrow road that led to the bed and breakfast.

Mari called a few days later, just as I was putting away the last of the clean laundry. The machine had finally been installed earlier that week and I was still adjusting to the novelty of doing it all at home. No more hauling baskets into town or counting quarters, just a quiet hum in the background and clothes that smelled like my own detergent.

I spent the morning bent over a cracked tile near the bathroom door, scraping away grout with a level of focus I hadn’t summoned in weeks. The rest of the tiles were still intact but this one had been bothering me for a while, ever since I’d started seriously thinking about installing a washer in there. The guys were supposed to come by later in the week to take measurements and I wanted the space to feel a little more prepared.

Things had started to feel a little more grounded lately. I still had my share of worries but the edge had softened. The house was feeling even more like mine and although it came with a running list of repairs and small frustrations, it also came with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had a steady rhythm now; work was consistent, money was flowing in regularly and my days, while not always exciting, had begun to feel manageable.

It started with a knock. Not even a knock, really. A rapid-fire rhythm on my door like the person on the other side was either very late or very drunk. I opened it to find Mari, wide-eyed and grinning, holding two mismatched heels in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “You’re wearing black,” she said, barging in.

The raven arrived at midnight, wings cutting through the unnatural silence. Cain Blackthorn knew what it meant before he saw the crimson envelope held in its beak. The wax seal gleamed wet in the moonlight, a blood moon pierced by a dagger. The Volkov crest."For the thorned man," the raven croaked, its voice rough and low, then vanished into the night.

There’s a rhythm to life lately. Not a loud one, a quiet, gentle hum, like the clink of a mug, the shuffle of slippers, the sound of a page turning. Life doesn’t always announce when a new chapter begins. Sometimes it just… settles. The mornings have started cooler, quieter. Miso curls tighter in her bed. I’ve paid down a chunk of my student loan, not a miracle but it feels like a huge ease off my back.

Rio navigates a day filled with her mother's unexpected visit, gardening discussions, strained feelings about her relationships, and reflections on independence, ultimately questioning her connection with Manuel while seeking personal growth.

Rio unexpectedly attends a horse show with her mom, revels in the day's simplicity and places a lucky bet.

Rio took a solo trip to Oasis Springs and wandered into the Forgotten Grotto, where something soft settled inside her. Maybe peace maybe belonging. Maybe just space to breathe. Rio took a solo trip to Oasis Springs and wandered into the Forgotten Grotto where something soft settled inside her.

This morning, I signed up for a nectar and paint class down at the community center.I wasn't in the mood for group activities, just needed escape from my own thoughts. The promise of cheap easels and chilled glasses felt safe enough. The instructor had paint under her nails and wore confidence like perfume, her wide-leg linen pants swaying as she moved between tables.

This morning, I didn’t set an alarm. I didn’t open my calendar, didn’t check messages, didn’t even glance at my to-do list, which, admittedly, has grown legs and is currently climbing the walls. Instead, I made tea. Actual tea. In a pot. I watched the water turn golden while Miso yelled at birds from the windowsill like it was her full-time job.

It started with a phone call I didn’t expect. He was Darryl Charm, someone I met briefly at the Moon Revelry a few weekends ago. We’d spoken exactly once—two minutes by a campfire at Ravenwood while Mom rambled about mushrooms. His smile had been easy. His voice, unremarkable. Yet here he was, inviting me to karaoke at the Star Lounge like we’d made plans.  

(A Bonus Entry) written by Ruby This morning, the house was too quiet.Not the peaceful kind of quiet, the heavy kind. The kind that wraps around your shoulders like a damp shawl and won’t shake off. Selene went to yoga in that outfit that looks like it cost too much and covers too little. Maya bounced out the door like a scientist late for a rocket launch.

written by Malik Carter Mornings start the same around here.Ruby clanging around the kitchen like it’s a steelpan competition. Maya is yelling about hydrostatic pressure, whatever that is, from the backyard. Jayden was stomping across the floor upstairs because someone (probably Elian) unplugged his speaker setup by accident. I don’t even flinch anymore. That’s just our version of a good morning.