Water dripped from Bae’s toga. His hair was drenched and stig to his face. He scratched his , lost in thought, as he watched the figure standing before him.

  A young girl. Silent. Her simple white dress moved in the m breeze. Dark hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes—glinting in the sunlight—remained locked on him. Unblinking. Watg.

  The sileretched between them, except for the occasional rustling of leaves from the nearby orchard.

  “Alright,” Bae said at st, his fingers still resting on his . “Let’s go over this again. Make sure everything’s uood.”

  He poio himself with a quick flick of his thumb.

  “I am Bae—yod and sole creator.”

  He looked at her for a moment, searg for something in her gaze, but there was ion. He tinued.

  “And you…” He hesitated, stealing an her. “Your name is Mira. Like the o that surrounds the seas.”

  Still, Mira said nothing. The wind tugged at her dress, but she remaiill as stone.

  “You’re probably w why you ’t speak,” he said. “I would be, too. Well… I made sure of that. Not because I didn’t want to hear you, but because some things… some thoughts… should stay hidden. Even from me. Anyway, I guess that settles it.”

  He turned away, running a hand through his wet hair.

  Mira’s eyes followed him without moving her head.

  Bae stopped, turning back suddenly.

  “ht. Ground rules. Very important. We should clear those up right away. Huh?”

  His words faltered as she turned—interrupting him without so much as a gnd began walking toward the orchard.

  Bae stared for a moment, his expression frozen. Then, with a soft crackle of dispced air, he vanished—only to reappear beside her in an instant.

  He watched, fused, as she reached a low-hanging brand plucked a red apple. She brought it to her lips and bit into it, calm and tent, as though he wasn’t there at all.

  “The first rule,” he said, “is that you do not—and I mean never—ignore me.”

  She took another bite. The crisp sound of it cut through the silence. Chew. Swallow. No gn his dire.

  “Unless,” he stepped closer, “you want to make yod extremely angry?”

  Still, nothing. She tio eat, slow and unhurried.

  “Do you uand?” He began to raise his voice. “There will be sequences. Substantial sequences. Huge!”

  He swept his arms wide, the gesture meant to be anding, but Mira didn’t even blink. She chewed the st bite, tossed the core aside, and turo wander deeper into the orchard, sing the trees for more fruit.

  Bae’s face darkened. His fingers curled into fists.

  “You—” he began, the word cutting off with a growl.

  Raising his hand, he flexed his fingers, preparing to snap them. The air hummed with tension, thick with power. The grouh his feet vibrated faintly.

  But, for a moment, his fingers just hung there in the air. Something—he wasn’t sure what—made him hesitate.

  No. Not yet.

  With a fsh of light, he vanished again, reappearing just ahead of her path.

  “It seems,” he said, his voice lower now, “you’ve made up your mind to test me.”

  She stopped. Her gaze lifted to meet his, calm and unfling. A half-eaten apple glistened in her hand. Her face was bnk, no expnation, no apology.

  “Very well.”

  Bae stepped back. Slowly. Purposefully. His arms rose. The air around them tightened, vibrating with the promise of power. His voice lowered to a whisper.

  “Prepare yourself… Mortal… For my wrath. A thunderous vengeance!”

  The air ignited with energy as Bae made a sharp sign with his hands.

  A shockwave exploded outward from where they stood, rushing through the orchard in a perfect circle. The ground trembled. Trees shuddered. Leaves burst into the air like frightened birds. Apples tore free from their branches, spilling to the ground with soft thuds.

  Mira blinked. Her head turned slowly, watg the apples fall around her. For a moment, she simply stared at them, her fareadable.

  Then, she uood.

  A smile tugged at the ers of her mouth. Soft. Subtle at first.

  And then she ughed.

  She cpped her hands together ohen again, stepping in a slow circle as the apples tio fall. The sunlight caught her hair as she spun, her ughter eg through the orchard. Her eyes sparkled at him—bright, teasing.

  Bae stared back, wide-eyed, his hands still half-raised from the dispy of power he had unleashed.

  “This...” he managed but a word, almost to himself. “Are you... ughing?”

  Mira stopped spinning and looked at him, her eyes glinting. She nodded—slow and deliberate—before resuming her g.

  Bae lowered his hands slowly. “Aren’t you a bit scared of me?”

  With a swift shake of her head—so sudden her hair whipped across her face—she gave a clear, unmistakable answer.

  Bae swallowed. He didn’t move when Mira bent down, pig tles from the ground. She held them for a moment, examining eae carefully. Then, with the same gentle, unbrace, she extended one of the apples toward him.

  It dropped lightly into his open palm.

  Bae stared at the fruit resting in his hand. The skin gleamed, smooth and red. His fingers curled around it as he gnced back up at her. She had already turned away, biting into her ole with quiet satisfa.

  “...Thanks,” he said after a long pause. “For the apple, I mean.”

  He cleared his throat, standing a little straighter.

  “Although, I’m not really used to this kind of . I mean, usually, it’s grain. Or precious stohings worthy of a god. But...” he turhe apple over in his hand thoughtfully, “I suppose I could call this a start.”

  For the first time in a long while, a smile tugged at the er of Bae’s mouth. His gaze softened as he looked at the apple. He turned baira.

  “You know, looks like we might be able to—”

  He froze.

  His smile faded.

  Where the hell is she?

  The wind blew along the cliff’s edge, carrying with it the st of salt ah. Mira walked without hesitation, her white dress brushing the rocky path. The o stretched endlessly below, waves crashing far beh her feet. Behind her, Bae stood, watg as she moved away from him—again.

  “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath. “Still ign me?”

  He raised his hands slowly, g them together with a sharp, eg sound.

  The air shimmered. With a low hum, something began to desd from the sky—glinting, shining. A cascade of pure gold, smooth and fwless, fell from the heavens and nded just ahead of her, catg the sunlight like a bea.

  Surely, this would get her attention.

  But Mira didn’t stop. She didn’t even sloithout a sed g the pile of gleaming gold, she stepped casually around it. Her gaze had fallen elsewhere—a tiny flower, delicate and pale, blooming from beh a rock. She k and plucked it gently. Tug it behind her ear, she rose again without a sound.

  Bae stared at her.

  “Seriously?” he whispered.

  In a blink, he appeared beside her. His gaze flicked from the untouched gold to the small flower in her hair. He stared for a long moment before f a smile and folding his arms across his chest.

  “So… you do like pretty things. Didn’t take you for the seal type, but hey, I’ve been wrong before.”

  He raised his hand, and with a single sweepiure, color burst from the earth. Flowers of every shade began blooming i patterns, spreading out between them—vivid reds, deep blues, soft violets, and bright yellows.

  The field seemed to e alive, the blooms stretg toward Mira as though reag for her.

  She paused, her eyes fixed orail of color before her. Then, without hesitation, she began following the path of flowers. She plucked them one by one—carefully, thoughtfully—examining each before adding it trowing colle.

  “Huh,” Bae murmured to himself, “I think this might get iing.”

  The path of flowers led upward, winding slowly along the hillside. Mira followed it without looking back. Bae remained a few steps behind her, his gaze locked on the silent girl, watg her every move.

  After a while, the hill’s peak came into view.

  Bae slowed his pace.

  At the summit y a meadow unlike any other.

  The grass glowed with golden light uhe te afternoon sun. Flowers of impossible colors covered the ground, stretg endlessly into the distarees with silver leaves swayed gently in the breeze, their branches heavy with bright fruit.

  Mira stood at the top of the hill, staring out at the sight before her. For a long moment, she didn’t move.

  And then—

  She ran.

  Her ughter rang out, clear and bright. Arms stretched wide, she ehe field, brushing her fingers against the tops of the flowers, spinning through the color and light.

  Bae followed slowly after her, watg.

  When Mira reached a rge, aree at the meadow’s ter, she stopped. A swing hung from one of its brahe ropes worn smooth from time and use. Without a sed thought, Mira climbed onto it, gripped the ropes, and pushed off gently with her feet.

  She moved bad forth, higher with each pass.

  For the first time since he had created her, Bae saw her smile—a genuine, unguarded smile, free of the quiet defiance he had seen before.

  With a faint hum of power, he appeared beside her, seated on a sed swing that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He g her, watg the way she leaned back with each arc, as though trying to touch the sky.

  “You like swinging too?” he asked. “How high you go?”

  Mira didn’t answer, but she pushed harder with her legs, lifting higher and higher.

  “Oh, I see how it is.” Bae grinned, and with a quiet chuckle, pushed off with his own swing.

  “Alright, the’s see who gets higher!”

  They ughed together as they raced—higher, faster, their voices eg across the meadow. Time passed unnoticed as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

  Eventually, the ughter faded. The swings slowed. The sun hovered just above the horizon, painting the sea below in marvelous hues of gold and crimson.

  Bae gnced sideways.

  Mira sat quietly on her swing now, her hands loosely gripping the ropes. Her gaze was distant, watg the sun as it prepared to disappear into the sea.

  The smile she had worn earlier had faded. She leaned forward, resting her on her knees. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

  Bae watched her for a moment, the grin on his face slowly slipping away.

  “Hey,” he said, nudging his swing closer with a gentle push. “What’s wrong?”

  No response.

  “You don’t want to swing anymore?”

  Mira didn’t move. She just sat there, still and silent, the breeze pying with the strands of her hair.

  Bae leaned ba the swing, letting it sway zily.

  “That’s okay,” he said after a pause. “I get it. Sometimes things stop being fun, don’t they?”

  He gnced up at the darkening sky, watg as the st streaks of sunlight bled into twilight.

  “Even when you have everything you could ever think of. After a while, it all just feels... empty.”

  His swing creaked as he shifted his weight.

  “Especially when there’s no one around to share it with… No oo ugh with...”

  Bae exhaled slowly.

  “Guess it works the same way for people, huh?”

  He looked closely at Mira. Something in her eyes had ged.

  “You know what?” he said suddenly. “That’s exactly what you need!”

  With a cp of his hands, the air stirred again.

  This time, there was no shimmer of gold, no explosion of flowers or dispy of power. Instead, a soft, warm light glowed from beyond the hill.

  Mira lifted her head slowly.

  A gentle voice echoed up from below—soft, familiar, calling out through the evening air.

  “…Mira!”

  Mira turned sharply. Her eyes widened as she looked down the slope.

  There, in the middle of a field, stood a small house. Smoke came out of its red ey. The front door en, and in its frame stood a woman. She waved, smiling, her voice reag clearly up the hill.

  “Mira! e here, my sweet child! It’s gettio py outside!”

  Mira looked at the woman. Then back at Bae.

  He met her gaze.

  “Go,” he said, nodding. “They’re waiting for you.”

  Mira sat still. Then, without a word, she stepped toward him. Gently, she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek—a soft, fleeting touch. She lihere for a moment, then turned and ran down the hill toward the house.

  Bae remained seated on the swing, watg her go. The breeze stirred again, carrying the sound of ughter from the field below.

  His fingers brushed absently against his cheek where she had kissed him.

  “I’ve lit the skies with fire,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the fading horizon. “Raised mountains, stirred seas.”

  But that… that was the first time I ever felt… plete.