Scree's excitement buzzed through her like a swarm of bees as she darted through the bustling streets of Frandyln. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the towering trees of the Fey city, casting a magical glow over the whimsical stone and wood structures. She had so much to prepare before she freed Eekscree from her petrified state later that day. Her heart raced at the thought of finally seeing her twin’s face, and she wanted everything to be perfect.   First, she stopped at a street vendor with a cart filled with delicate pastries. The vendor, a sprightly pixie with a sugar-dusted apron, flashed her a wide smile.   "Hello there! What can I get for you today?" she chimed, fluttering her wings excitedly.   Scree, who had always had a weakness for sweets, eyed the treats with wide, gleaming eyes. The air was filled with the scent of warm honey and lavender. She pointed to a basket filled with flaky pastries, their edges drizzled with golden syrup.   “I’ll take three of those honey-lavender pockets. And... do you have any of that feywild berry pie?”   The vendor winked, pulling a miniature pie from beneath her counter. “One slice or the whole thing?”   Scree chuckled, rubbing her hands together. “I’ll take the whole thing.”   After making her purchase, she couldn't resist taking a quick bite of one of the honey-lavender pastries. The flaky crust melted in her mouth, and the sweet, floral honey paired perfectly with the subtle lavender. Her eyes closed in bliss, and for a moment, she nearly forgot about her errands. But no—there was still so much to do!   As she moved on, the crowd thickened with fae creatures of all sorts—elves, centaurs, and talking animals all bustling about. The air was filled with laughter, the clang of blacksmiths’ hammers, and the lilting tunes of bards strumming harps.   Her next stop was a small clothing shop tucked between two towering mushroom houses. The shop’s sign read Threaded Charms, and the interior was filled with floating fabrics and shimmering clothes enchanted with minor illusions.   Inside, a kindly older elf with silver hair greeted her. “Welcome, dear. Looking for something specific?”   Scree nodded enthusiastically. “I need something warm and comfortable for my sister. She’s... coming out of a long rest, and I want her to feel cozy.”   The shopkeeper smiled knowingly and led Scree to a display of plush woolen cloaks, soft tunics, and leggings that seemed to shift colors in the light. Scree picked out a deep green tunic with intricate leaf patterns and a pair of supple leather leggings that looked both sturdy and comfortable. For herself, she found a dark blue cloak with silver stitching that reminded her of the night sky—a little something to mark the occasion.   “Oh, and I’ll need a sturdy pouch for her, too,” Scree added. The elf handed her a small, beautifully embroidered leather pouch, its clasp shaped like a crescent moon. Perfect for Eekscree to carry her belongings in once she was free.   After paying for the clothing and the pouch, Scree stepped back onto the street, her arms laden with bags. She caught the scent of something savory wafting from a nearby food stall. Her stomach growled in response—pastries alone wouldn’t be enough to sustain her for the rest of the day.   She wandered over to the stall, where a faun was grilling skewers of seasoned meats and vegetables. A large cauldron bubbled beside him, filled with a rich, hearty stew.   “What’ll it be?” the faun asked, tossing a skewer onto a plate.   “I’ll take two skewers and some of that stew,” Scree replied, her mouth watering at the aroma. She quickly devoured the food as she walked—juicy chunks of meat marinated in spices, and vegetables so tender they nearly fell off the skewer. The stew was thick and savory, filled with chunks of root vegetables and wild game, warming her from the inside out.   By the time Scree finished her meal, she was already thinking about what else she might need for the perfect reunion. Her last stop before heading back was a quaint herbalist shop, where she picked up a bottle of enchanted oil—one that smelled of wildflowers and rain, perfect for soothing any lingering aches her sister might have after being freed from her stone prison.   As she left the shop, her heart brimmed with anticipation. Her arms were filled with clothing, treats, and magical trinkets, each item chosen with care. Everything was nearly ready. She nibbled on the last of the feywild berry pie as she hurried back toward the small camp she’d made on the edge of the city.   Later that day, when she would finally bring her sister back, everything would be just right. From the cozy clothes to the sweet pastries and fragrant oils, Scree had prepared for a reunion as warm and comforting as possible. But nothing compared to the excitement of the moment she would finally look into Eekscree’s eyes, no longer stone, but flesh, alive and whole.   In the dim light of the Goldscale's small cottage, Scree knelt beside her open bag of holding. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions swirling within her. It had been only a few days since she discovered the truth—she had a sister, a twin named Eekscree, who had been searching for her for the past two years.   The revelation had shocked Scree to her core. Memories of her captivity flashed back—of the chains, the cold unfamiliar world she was brought to as a child. For years, she'd thought she was alone in that suffering. Yet now, the knowledge of her sister’s existence, of her relentless search, filled Scree with both sorrow and hope.   Scree's fingers traced the surface of the stone within her bag. She felt the cold, unyielding form of her twin, frozen in time. It pained her to see Eekscree this way—petrified, trapped, much like Scree had once been in the chains of slavery. But this time, Scree had the power to save her.   With a deep breath, Scree pulled out the small stone figure from the bag of holding. She placed Eekscree’s petrified form gently on the floor. In that moment, the world seemed to still. Scree held out her hand, her voice a steady hum as she began to chant the words for *Greater Restoration*.   Magic surged through her fingers, a soft, golden light cascading over the stone form. Scree’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the light seep into the cracks of the stone. Slowly, the stone began to soften, its rigid surface turning to warm, living flesh. Eekscree’s fur, once cold and gray, returned to its natural hue—a soft brown that matched Scree’s own. Her limbs, once locked in place, twitched as the magic released her from the gorgon’s curse.   The final words of the spell left Scree’s lips, and in a breath, Eekscree gasped, her eyes flying open. She blinked, disoriented, her gaze landing on Scree.   “Scree...?” Eekscree’s voice was weak, but the recognition in her eyes was unmistakable.   Scree’s heart swelled. “Eekscree,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “I found you.”   Tears welled in both their eyes as Scree helped her twin sit up. For the first time in years, they were together—no longer separated by stone, by worlds, or by fate.   “You saved me,” Eekscree said, her voice shaky but filled with awe.   Scree shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, sister. You saved me first.”   The two sisters embraced, holding on to each other tightly, their bond stronger than ever. They had been apart for so long, but now, nothing would separate them again.   As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, Aakscree sat next to her sister, still marveling at the sight of Eekscree alive and whole. They had shared laughter and tears since the moment she was restored, but now, there was a different kind of weight between them—the unspoken past that Eekscree was about to unravel.   Eekscree gazed into the fire, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. She took a deep breath, then turned to her twin. "There’s something you need to know about... about *home*."   Aakscree’s ears perked up at the word. She hadn’t heard anyone mention their birthplace in so long. To her, “home” had become a distant memory, blurred by her years in captivity and the endless adventures since.   "Home?" Aakscree asked softly. "I thought I’d lost it forever. I barely remember..."   Eekscree nodded, her expression gentle but solemn. “You were so young when they took you. I never forgot, though. Our family, Aakscree—they’re still there.”   Aakscree blinked, her breath catching. “Our family?”   “Yes,” Eekscree said, her voice gaining strength as she continued. “Our father, Screeat Silverson, still works the silver mines, just like he did when we were small. And Mother, Aakaa Galedaughter, is still the priestess of Galothia, the storm goddess.”   Aakscree’s heart skipped a beat. She could barely picture them—faint memories of a large figure with soot-streaked fur, and the calming voice of a woman speaking prayers to the wind. She had thought them gone, lost to time.   “They’re alive?” she whispered.   Eekscree nodded, her eyes shining with emotion. “They are. And... we have a brother. His name is Hegree. He was born after you were taken.”   Aakscree stared, unable to fully process the revelation. “A brother? I have a brother?”   Eekscree smiled. “Yes. Hegree’s about six years younger than us. He’s full of energy, always running along the cliffside paths, trying to climb higher than anyone else. He reminds me of you, actually.”   The mention of a sibling she had never known sent Aakscree’s mind spinning. “I can’t believe it... all this time...”   Eekscree’s voice softened as she continued. “We live in the Canyon. Do you remember it? The great canyon where our village is carved into the cliffside caves?”   Aakscree nodded slowly. The image of the Canyon had always been with her, buried deep but never forgotten. The jagged walls of rock stretching as far as the eye could see, the village built into the cliffs like little nests, where their people had lived for generations.   “It’s still the same,” Eekscree said. “The caves are homes, workshops, and temples all built into the cliff walls. The wind howls through the canyon, and when storms roll in, Mother leads the village in prayers to Galothia. Her voice can calm even the wildest of storms.”   Aakscree felt a pang of longing for this place that Eekscree described. It was so vivid, so alive, yet she had been torn away from it for so long.   “I always thought... that I’d never see it again. That I was forgotten,” Aakscree murmured, her voice barely audible.   Eekscree reached out, taking her sister’s hand. “You were never forgotten, Aakscree. Mother and Father never gave up hope. Even when they heard rumors of slavers taking children from our people, they never stopped praying to Galothia for your return. They believe the storm goddess will guide you home when the time is right.”   Aakscree swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside her. She hadn’t thought much about her family, not because she didn’t care, but because it had been too painful to think about. Yet now, hearing about them—her parents, her brother, the village in the canyon—it was like a missing piece of her soul was being restored.   “I want to see them,” Aakscree said, her voice trembling with the weight of the realization. “I want to go home.”   Eekscree squeezed her hand. “We will. When the time is right, we’ll return. But for now, I just wanted you to know. You’re not alone, Aakscree. You’ve always had a family, waiting for you.”   Aakscree closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of her sister’s hand, the crackling fire, and the sense of hope she hadn’t felt in so long. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to dream of home—a place that had never stopped waiting for her.