Isaac slept restlessly.

Isaac’s sleep was plagued with images. Torn memories, Declan’s face, flashes of purple, a piercing blue light, a flash of steel, Aoife’s screaming visage, and then he was up, damp with a cold sweat. Ophelia was wrapped around him, while Jade was tangled in blankets on a pile of cushions on the floor and snoring. Isaac easily disentangled from Ophelia’s embrace, checked his phone - it was a brisk 3 A.M - and picked up the Wraithrider, slipping it on his hand. With his mind buzzing and not a trace of sleep in his eyes, he pulled on a pair of pants and went out into the house. Candles lit his way, flaring to life as he neared them. In the living room, Torik was sprawled on the floor, a bedsheet laid over him, while Tyler was asleep on the couch.

Isaac quietly slipped past them to the back door, unlocking it and stepping through. The backyard wasn’t large, but it was well-kept, and it wasn’t cluttered, so its space was easy to maneuver and utilize. It was bathed in moonlight from the full moon hanging high above, and as such it was very easy to see Aoife in the yard. She danced and twirled a few feet off the ground, stepping on moonlight as she mimed a ballroom dance all on her own. Her dress billowed out, loose around her form and tattered at the edges.

Isaac just watched her for a while, fiddling with the latches on his gauntlet as Aoife danced on moonlight. She was serene, at peace, her eyes closed as she danced. She was in perfect form, practiced, almost as if being led by another dancer who wasn’t there.

Eventually, she lowered back to the ground. She seemed more tangible, actually landing on the earth, and not a bit of her was translucent. Then, she turned to the door and yelped as her eyes landed on Isaac.

“Oh, sorry,” Isaac said in a hushed tone. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“N-no, it’s alright,” she replied. “How… how long were you watching?”

“Only a minute or so,” Isaac said, but he didn’t really know the answer. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Aoife smoothed out her dress, not meeting Isaac’s gaze. “It’s fine, I promise. I… it’s a bit embarrassing, but I like the full moon. It’s the only time I can control my tangibility on my own. I like to dance when I can feel the ground. I can almost feel my dance partner, even if they’re not really… there.” She walked closer, raising a hand, then paused and withdrew, wringing her hands. “Did I… wake you?”

“No, it’s alright. I… kind of had a nightmare, and couldn’t sleep.” Isaac stepped out into the full moonlight with her.

At that, Aoife frowned. “That might be my fault. Sometimes… people get nightmares around me. And I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have told Tyler to take you all here.”

Isaac reached out with his non-gauntleted hand and touched her shoulder, where her dress had slipped low on her arm and his hand landed on bare skin. Her skin was cold, almost frigid, but it quickly warmed. Tiny ripples of purplish light went out from each point of contact, betraying further Aoife’s still-spectral nature. She smiled softly and finally met Isaac’s gaze.

“It’s not your fault, Aoife. I don’t blame you.” He returned her smile and rubbed tiny circles into her skin with his thumb. “Nightmares aren’t too rare for me. Hey, tell me, where’d you learn to ballroom dance like that?”

She took his hand off her shoulder and held it, lacing her fingers through his. “Would you like a dance? Then I’ll tell you?” Her voice was hoarse, unsure.

“I would love to,” Isaac said. “But I need to warn you, I can’t dance.”

“We’ll see about that, love,” she murmured, blushing. Isaac lifted his other hand to take hers, but she flicked her free hand and the Wraithrider slipped off of his arm, clattering to the ground. “I want to feel your touch for the short time I can.” Her hand slipped into his and she started dancing.

Despite Isaac’s sheer inability to gracefully maneuver his body, his body moved apart from his own will, falling into step with Aoife. It wasn’t uncomfortable, simply warm and guiding. He felt tiny touches correcting his movements as the dance progressed and she took him into a perfect rhythm.

“In the old world, I once was a princess. Princess Aoife Conrad, sole heir to the throne,” she said, pulling him close to press her body to his, then pulling away again. “I didn’t want to be a princess, like many other young women in my position over the course of history. But I loved my father, and he needed me to be a princess, so I was.” She stepped delicately, fluidly, holding firm and yet moving gently. “That’s where I learned to dance. When learning to be… a princess. I hope that doesn’t change your view of me.”

“Of course not,” Isaac replied, shaking his head while his body dipped Aoife low. “Why would it?”

Aoife blushed as she fell, smiling as she rose back up. “I know that royalty makes some people uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure.”

“If you were the sole heir, did you ever get married?” Isaac asked, then realized it was probably a bad idea. “Sorry, that’s rude. It’s none of my business.”

Aoife stumbled ever so slightly, but Isaac caught her and she kept going. “I… was to be married. I never made it to my wedding day.” She was silent as the dance continued. “It was a long time ago. I don’t have many feelings toward it anymore beyond mild disappointment, but perhaps that was a consequence of my demise and subsequent raising.”

Slowly, Aoife and Isaac started lifting slightly into the air, stepping on solid plates of moonlight. The pace of the dance increased as she glided through the motions, twirling and pivoting in Isaac’s puppeteered arms.

“I was quite beautiful, when I was alive,” she murmured. “I hope that I am not too repulsive to you, now.”

Isaac pulled free of the dance, holding her chin and lifting it so she would meet his gaze. “That painting in your room, that was you, right?”

She nodded, blushing and bashful.

“Then you are just as beautiful as the day that portrait was made.” Isaac brushed back some of her floating hair. “Why would you think that you’re repulsive?”

The dance slowed and stopped. Aoife, still holding one of Isaac’s hands, stared into his eyes. “I do not have a reflection. I’ve heard that spirits like me can have their reflection appear in certain enchanted mirrors, but I have yet to come across one of them. I assumed.” she touched her own cheek. “I assumed I looked… decayed.”

“Not at all.” Isaac changed his grip on her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. “In the right lighting, you might look a little more skeletal, but right now? You’re as magnificent as that portrait. Just… more magical.”

Glimmering purple welled up in her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you are eloquent?”

“Well, I am a writer for a living. Was a writer, maybe. Not sure how that’s gonna - mmf!”

Aoife put one hand on the back of Isaac’s head and held his wrist with her other, pulling him close and pressing her lips to his. Her kiss was electric, humming, cold at first then quickly warming, tasting of licorice. Her hair glowed brighter, billowing out, and tiny pale ripples of magic flowed over her skin. She pressed her body against him, her modest bust pressing noticeably into his chest and one of her legs wrapping around his. He noticed vaguely that the wind was picking up, whipping around them, but they were back on solid ground, no longer standing on moonlight.

Then Aoife pulled back, and she looked briefly blissful, then horrified. “O-oh, no, I’m sorry.” She stepped back. “I… shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” She kept murmuring apologies as she fled back to the house. Out of the moonlight, she began to fade again, lifting off the ground and slipping through the wall, back into her home.

Isaac stared after her, still tasting the licorice on his lips and mind racing.