Brunch, under normal circumstances, was an activity reserved for clinking glasses of mimosa and passive-aggressively discussing life updates. In the current context, however, brunch had been weaponized. It loomed before Jax, Emily, and Rafe like a gauntlet of emotional doom—with scones.
The portal spit them out in the middle of a suburban hellscape: white picket fences, birds chirping too cheerfully, and a floating sign that read "Welcome to the Brunch Trial: Survive Each Other's Families Without Crying or Committing Felonies."
"I thought facing down a chimera in Chapter 6 was the worst," Jax muttered.
Rafe stared ahead. "You clearly have never met your girlfriend's mother while cursed to speak only in metaphors."
"I'm not his girlfriend," Emily snapped automatically.
"Yet," Jax added.
The air around them shimmered. A new artifact floated into view, spinning slowly. It displayed a checklist:
[ ] Endure awkward small talk
[ ] Navigate cursed seating arrangements
[ ] Resist the Truth Mimosas™
[ ] Survive the Great Gravy Incident
[ ] Confront unresolved family trauma (bonus round)
"Oh, this is gonna be bad," Rafe muttered, drawing his sword.
Table for Twelve and a Demon
The table stretched for miles. On one end sat Emily's parents—her mother wearing pearls that radiated passive judgment, her father inspecting Jax with a gaze honed by thirty years in federal investigations. On the other end: Jax's family, a chaos of shouting uncles, suspiciously muscular aunts, and a grandmother who may or may not have been a retired witch hunter.
"Everyone, meet my... teammate," Emily introduced weakly.
"Teammate?" Grandma Griselda echoed. "What is this, dodgeball?"
Jax sat down. The chair hissed. Literally.
Rafe leaned against a column. "You both owe me a vacation after this."
The centerpiece exploded in a puff of cinnamon smoke. A skeletal brunch hostess emerged, clinking mimosa glasses together.
"Welcome! Today's curse will be subtle emotional sabotage via food. Bon appétit!"
Truth Mimosas™ and Guilt Scones
"Would anyone like a drink?" the hostess asked sweetly. "We have orange juice, blood orange, and suppressed emotional truth."
Emily reached for the juice but paused. "Is it too late to swap this brunch for a knife fight?"
Jax gulped a mimosa.
"I lied about liking your poetry," he blurted to his Aunt Lorna.
His aunt gasped. "You monster."
Emily took a cautious sip.
"I do like you, Jax," she admitted, blinking. "Like, a lot."
Everyone froze.
The gravy trembled ominously.
The Great Gravy Incident
It started with a sneeze from Cousin Bart.
The sneeze caused a spoon to flip.
The spoon hit the Gravy Boat of Binding.
Gravy—enchanted to expose intergenerational secrets—splashed across the table.
Jax's mother screamed. Emily's father shouted, "WHO KNEW ABOUT THE CURSED AMULET?!"
Aunt Lorna levitated.
Rafe calmly finished his croissant as the gravy summoned a spirit in the shape of everyone's unresolved guilt.
"Why didn't you ever pursue painting?" it whispered to Jax's mom.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE HIM, BARBARA?" it roared at Emily's dad.
Grandma Griselda cast a truth banishment spell with a flick of her fork.
The gravy retreated, weeping softly.
Everyone sat, stunned.
Then Emily's mother said, "So… who wants eggs?"
Unplanned Games and Dangerous Sentiments
"Let's play Two Truths and a Lie," said Rafe suddenly, clearly trying to regain control of the meal.
"I hate this game," Emily muttered.
"You already drank a truth mimosa. The damage is done," he replied.
They went around the table.
Jax: "I once kissed a banshee. I'm allergic to cats. I think I might love Emily."
Emily: "I broke into a museum. I never loved anyone. I'm terrified of being enough."
No one spoke.
Grandma Griselda smacked her hands on the table. "Why don't you two just admit you're doomed and kiss again?"
They didn't, but the tension thickened like the cursed hollandaise sauce quivering at the center of the table.
The Curse of the Family Album
Midway through dessert, the table opened like a maw and spat up a dusty family album. Pages flipped on their own, revealing:
Jax's emo phase
Emily in a unicorn onesie with a plastic sword
Rafe in college, inexplicably shirtless and covered in magical runes
The album burst into flames.
"WHY," Rafe barked.
"Trial protocol," the hostess said. "You must confront the ghosts of familial embarrassment."
Battle Royale: Passive Aggressive Compliments
"Emily, you've finally found someone... adventurous," her mom offered.
"Jax, she's very... independent," his aunt added.
Rafe slapped a bingo card on the table. "We're halfway to Emotional Sabotage Bingo."
The hostess reappeared. "Congratulations! Only one task left: survive The Unified Interrogation."
The Unified Interrogation
Both families merged into one enormous, glaring collective.
"So... where is this going?" they all asked.
Emily stood. "Maybe nowhere. Maybe everywhere. Maybe we're saving the world and each other."
Jax joined her. "We're not perfect. But we're trying. And I care about her. Enough to sit through brunch with you."
A beat of silence.
Then Grandma Griselda raised her glass. "Fine. But if this ends in heartbreak, I'm turning you into a toad."
Aftermath and Apologies
As they exited the brunchscape, the portal shimmered.
"You okay?" Jax asked.
Emily nodded. "Yeah. And you're not the worst brunch date."
"High praise."
Rafe followed behind, still sipping mimosa. "Next trial better involve fireballs."
The artifact appeared again, glowing brightly.
"TRIAL PASSED: NEXT—THE BATTLE OF THE EX."
Jax and Emily turned slowly.
"Oh, no," they said in unison.
Rafe smirked. "Let's hope she's worse at brunch.