INT. MAL’S KITCHEN - MORNING

YEARS LATER

First and Mal stand in his kitchen side by side, First upon a crate to reach Mal’s height and the countertop. She is a round woman in a humbling muslin dress and plain apron. She is in a much cleaner state than Mal, a novice at baking, evident in the little clumps of dough clinging to his sleeves. A warm, sweet aroma wafts around them in the tidied-up kitchen as they both study the single loaf of bread perfected baked, and perfectly shaped. First cuts a slice, movements precise and calculated like her baking. She breaks off a piece and shoves it into Mal’s mouth.

“Taste that hint of cinnamon?” she says. “How it gives a slight kick as you swallow it? No more, no less than what I’ve said.” Then she shakes her head and grumbles. “If only you could take my recipes with you…memory is such a fickle thing.”

The bread, though delicious, is too big a piece, giving Mal more than enough time to study the taste and swallow it. Indeed, there is that hint of cinnamon, but not overpowering. Mal reaches for another piece even as he chatters on. “Considering I don’t have a human brain, and memory flows through me like water, I’d say it’s better—”

“Exact measurements!” First cuts in and taps on the written recipe with a fury. “Baking isn’t like cooking where you can throw everything into a pot. If I didn’t have this blessing planned for that ungrateful fool’s wife’s brother’s third child, I’d go with you.”

After another bite, Mal frowns at the mention of a blessing. “Then don’t go.”

“And have him ‘accidentally’ send all the sewage into the river that flows to my home?!”

Of course that is the issue. Mal considers himself lucky he hasn’t been invited to anything, his only obligation being to the kingdom that is currently asleep. Not even the royal family housing him has invited him as it could raise suspicions about King Labos’ involvement.

Soon, First urges Mal to the connected doorway now framed by two podiums holding vases, and an embroidered curtain of flowers and ravens hanging from the frame.

“Move along now,” First says. “Go and teach her before you start to forget.” Then she turns to the shades and switches to her sweet, motherly voice. “Now, who wants a little piece before I head out? Come come, form a line, little biscuits.”

Mal clicks his tongue at the clear distinction of affection and crosses into the tower room. Over the years, all of the fairies have had a hand in remodeling the room. With all of Mal’s and his mother's mementos safe in Mal’s current home, that left ample space for new furniture. First’s everlasting pastries in the breadbox, Second’s instruments occasionally playing melodies, Third’s comfortable bed set up below while on the loft is Fourth’s tiny kitchenette. Fifth’s books take up a wall, Sixth’s kegs and chalices by the high counter, and Mal’s embroidered tapestries all come together in a cozy, organized clash of mastered crafts. Mal moves through the cluttered room with ease, eyes briefly glancing at the red cape displayed in the corner, before heading up to the loft. Pages of Mal’s sketches and patterns lay scattered at the foot of Vespera’s bed and Mal sifts through them briefly before sitting down on the cushioned chair nearby. With the flute playing a lullaby Mal falls asleep in seconds and enters Vespera’s Dreamland.

TRANSITION