Page 1 of Chasing Stripes

ONE

The weathered sign reading Enchanted Falls: Where Magic Blossoms” peeked through overgrown vines as Artemis Blu rounded the final bend in the winding highway. Her breath caught in her throat. The sign had been new and gleaming the last time she’d driven this road—in the opposite direction.

Her knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. “Almost there,” she whispered, the words barely audible above her thrumming heart.

A kaleidoscope of birch and maple trees lined the roadway, their branches creating dappled shadows across the asphalt. Artemis rolled down the window of her trusty blue hatchback. The scent of pine, wildflowers, and something distinctly magical—a subtle undercurrent only those with supernatural blood could detect—flooded the car. Her fae senses tingled with recognition; this place knew her even after all these years.

She rounded another curve, and there it was—Enchanted Falls nestled in the valley below, looking like someone had plucked it straight from a fairy tale. Sunlight caught the actual waterfall at the town’s edge, transforming ordinary water into a cascade of liquid diamonds. The buildings clustered in the valley center, their rooftops in various shades of moss green, slate blue, and rust red.

“Still postcard-perfect,” Artemis murmured, reaching for her travel mug of now-lukewarm coffee.

Her gaze drifted to the passenger seat where a framed photo of her parents sat atop a box of specialty baking tools. Her mother’s soft smile and her father’s impish grin looked back at her, permanently captured during happier days.

“Well, guys,” she addressed the photograph, “I quit my fancy city bakery, sold everything I couldn’t pack, and now I’m crawling back home with my tail between my legs. Just like you always said I wouldn’t.” She paused, a sad smile touching her lips. “Bet you never expected that plot twist.”

The photograph offered no response, but Artemis could almost hear her father’s gentle laugh, could almost feel her mother’s hand on her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.We’re proud no matter what path you choose, they would have said.

In her rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of her former life—five years running Crumb & Sugar in the city, building a reputation for exquisite pastries with subtle fae enhancements. She’d achieved success by most standards. Culinary magazine features. Lines out the door on weekend mornings. A small but dedicated staff.

Yet every night she’d returned to an empty apartment twenty stories above the streets, surrounded by thousands of people but connected to none of them. The city had amplified her loneliness rather than diminishing it.

When Aunt Matilda or “Tilly’s” called three weeks ago—her voice tired but still sprightly, asking if Artemis might consider coming home to help with Honeycrisp Bakery—the decision had formed with startling clarity. The relief that flooded through her had been answer enough.

Artemis guided her car down the sloping road into town, passing the “Welcome to Enchanted Falls” sign with its smaller text underneath:Population Varies (Depending on Who’s Looking). A sly nod to the town’s magical nature and its invisibility to purely human eyes.

Main Street hadn’t changed much: Moonstone & Mugwort still occupied the corner building with its violet awning and smoking chimney. The Brewing Grounds café still had its outdoor seating where supernatural patrons could sip coffee while discreetly practicing minor enchantments. New shops had opened—she spotted something called The Crimson Chalice that looked suspiciously vampire-oriented—but the town’s charming character remained intact.

Shopkeepers paused as she drove by, their heads turning with the small-town awareness of a not-quite-stranger in their midst. A young witch balancing precariously on a ladder while hanging crystals in a shop window nearly tumbled at the sight of her car—recognition dawning on her face. Artemis offered a small wave.

She turned onto Maple Street, and there it stood: Honeycrisp Bakery, her childhood playground and her parents’ legacy. Her heartbeat stuttered at the sight.

The once-vibrant teal paint had weathered to a muted shade that looked more gray than blue. The wooden sign hung slightly crooked, its painted honeycrisp apple emblem faded nearly beyond recognition. The display windows needed cleaning, their edges framed with chipped paint, and one of the front steps sagged dangerously.

Yet even in its somewhat dilapidated state, magic clung to the building’s bones. Faint sparkles—visible only to magical eyes—danced along the roofline, residual fae energy from decades of enchanted baking. The building seemed to hum with recognition as she neared, the ground beneath her feet warming slightly. The bakery had always felt alive, but she’d dismissed it as childhood fancy. Now, with adult fae senses, she couldn’t ignore the subtle magical current flowing from the very foundation stones.

Artemis parked at the curb and killed the engine. For a moment, she sat motionless, her hand pressed against her sternum where an ache had formed. Then the bakery’s door swung open with a familiar creak.

“Artemis!”

The door banged against the wall as Aunt Tilly burst onto the sidewalk, moving with surprising speed for someone her age. Her arms spread wide, flour dusting her floral-print apron, and silver-streaked hair escaping from what had probably been a neat bun that morning.

Artemis stepped out of the car just in time to be enveloped in a hug that smelled of vanilla, cinnamon, and home. She buried her face in her aunt’s shoulder, surprised by the sudden sting of tears in her eyes.

“Let me look at you,” Tilly pulled back, holding Artemis at arm’s length. Her hazel eyes—speckled with the same fae-gold that Artemis had inherited—studied her niece’s face. “Still my beautiful girl, but with city polish now. And is that designer flour on your shirt?”

Artemis glanced down at her blouse where a smudge of white powder clung to the fabric—remnants from boxing up her kitchen equipment. “Organic, locally-sourced, artisanal flour, thank you very much,” she quipped, falling easily into their old banter. “Only the best for my farewell baking spree.”

Tilly’s laugh bubbled up, bright and infectious. “Your father would be rolling his eyes so hard right now. Remember how he used to say?—”

“— flour is flour unless you enchant it, then it’s just enchanted flour,” they finished together.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, punctuated by the distant sound of wind chimes and children’s laughter from the park down the street.

“I’ve missed you, Tilly,” Artemis said finally, using her childhood nickname for her aunt.

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea.” Tilly tucked a strand of hair behind Artemis’s ear, a gesture so motherly that it made her chest ache. “Now, grab what you need for tonight, and the rest can wait. I’ve got tea brewing and so much to tell you about.”

Artemis retrieved her overnight bag from the backseat, promising to unload everything else later. As she followed Tilly inside, the shop bell chimed—a melodic sound that triggered a cascade of memories:

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