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He waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened. Panic surged in his chest and he shut his eyes until the world around him fell away. He focused solely on the image of Wisteria, on seeing her again.
Suddenly, his body tipped back, and the ground split open as a vast hole underneath him opened. He fell, feeling the world shift into a blinding white light before crashing into something soft and warm and distinctly magical.
For long moments, he laid there, eyes closed, letting the clean scent of freshly laundered clothes envelop him.
Finally, he dared to open his eyes.
Wisteria stood before him, her golden chain-linked dress glinting even in the absence of sunlight. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “You should’ve left me the fuck alone.”
Oleander groaned and threw an arm over his face. “Where even am I?”
He heard the soft clink of her dress as she moved to sit beside him. She said nothing, and after a moment, Oleander sighed and peeked over his arm. “Is it too soon to say I’ve missed you?”
Wisteria glanced at him sceptically. “That depends. How long have I been a tree?”
He groaned, rolling his eyes before muttering, “Not even a full moonphase.”
He closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breath—not because he was about to cry, but because breathing evenly was the thing to do. Definitely not because Wisteria had made everyone swear to never shed a tear around her.
“That’s pathetic. You used to go many moonphases without seeing me when I was alive.”
“Yes, well,” Oleander mumbled, “I forgot how mean you are.”
That made her smirk. “I can write you a few insults to keep in your pocket. We can start with your horns which you’ve clearly neglected.”
Oleander groaned, throwing a hand up. “Wisteria, you’re a fucking tree.”
“Yes, obviously.”
“Why are you a tree at the bottom of one of the most magical lakes in all five Circles? Do you have any idea what I had to bargain to visit you?”
“Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it.” Her tone turned bitter. “You were supposed to leave me alone. Let me be my new leafy self. A tree nymph, as it were.”
“An underwater tree nymph?”
Wisteria paused. Her voice softened with uncertainty. “Well… I don’t exactly know what I am. I gave up my soul for this, so I’m definitely not a demoness anymore. I look like a tree, but… the label doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve left the demonic realm behind. I’m content here with the magic. So I’ve decided that I’m a tree nymph for now. Until I decide otherwise.”
Oleander hummed in agreement. “I’m glad you’re not actually dead, though.”
“I am dead. Mostly.” Wisteria’s glare could’ve withered any other being. “Dead to you for a while, anyway. And I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Oleander grinned, nudging her arm with his knuckles. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Wisteria groaned dramatically. “Fine. Let me make you some spiritual tea. It does nothing for your corporeal body, but wonders for the soul. Then, you're leaving.”
“Can Hemlock visit you?”
“No part of this arrangement should make you think I have an answer to that. I don’t even know how you’re here.” Wisteria called out over her shoulder to him. “But I’m sure that idiot will figure out a way to visit me too. You’re both insufferable in that way.”
When she returned, small deep blue cups and a teapot were balanced carefully in her hands. She tossed them into the air, and they floated slowly in front of him. The teapot poured into his cup as it descended.
The tea tasted of grief so profound, it sliced through him like a blade. Yet Wisteria drank hers as if it were a balm, her face serene as she sipped. Oleander took another drink, his eyes closing as the bitterness washed over him, only to become... comforting. Cathartic.
He closed his eyes, memories bombarding him. He saw them again, laughing breathlessly on the floor after pranking Hemlock. Wisteria, so young and full of joy, smelling like wildflowers and spun sugar.
