Jo had always hated the floorboards behind the mop sink. They creaked when no one stepped on them. They slightly steamed during full moons and no matter how many times she scrubbed, they smelled faintly like regret and French vanilla.

But tonight, the floorboards sang.

Not with notes or melody, but they vibrated with a low hum that Jo felt in her molars. The espresso machine hissed in rhythm. The lights flickered just once, like the building was taking a breath.

Clorvex paused mid scone. “Something just moved beneath us.”

Jo grabbed her mop.

Sev took a defensive stance with a biscotti.

Mira lit a cinnamon stick and muttered something in Old Teaspell. “Near the mop sink,” she said as the smoke from the cinnamon stick drifted towards the floorboards.

Jo pried the floorboard loose. It groaned like it hadn’t been disturbed in centuries. Beneath it was dust, a few rogue coffee beans, and a chipped ceramic mug.

Not just any mug.

THE MUG. 

It was The First Mug. It had contained the Silent Steep. It was the cursed mug that Clorvex emerged from in Jo’s home that held the Bitter Elixir of the Forgotten Depths. The very one Jo had sworn he had taken with him and was gone forever. The one she often found herself replacing with her favorite chipped mug of the week.

Only now, it pulsed faintly with steam and memory.

Jo reached for it and the moment her fingers touched the handle, the café listened. Every surface stilled and every cup held its breath. The espresso machine let out a soft sigh, like it had been waiting.

“This was under our feet the whole time,” Jo whispered. “No wonder everything’s been so haunted.”

The Froth, sensing drama, foamed the word FINALLY into a cappuccino nearby.

Jo lifted the mug and stared into its cracked rim. The warmth it gave off wasn’t evil. It was familiar. Exhausted. Maybe even lonely.

“It didn’t leave,” Mira said softly. “It just buried itself. Like a bad memory.”

“I recognize that portal,” Clorvex said as he leaned in. “Do we sage it?”

Jo shook her head.

“No,” she said. “We understand it.”

With that, she washed the mug, poured in a modest house blend, and set it on the counter like an old friend returning home.