The Warung stands, as it always has, on the edge of the Night Market. It’s the kind of nondescript warung you drive by on balik kampung roadtrips, with its twinkling fairy lights, its torn plastic table cloths, the scratched-up surfaces of its bright red chairs. Within its thin wooden walls, three Aunties whip up delicious delicacies for weary travellers, lost souls and adventurers on the way from Sini to Sana—as long as you’re willing to pay the price. Many cross the threshold of the Warung, and whether human or fae or something in between, the Aunties serve them all and take what is owed: a memento, a memory, a moment in time. So if you see its neon sign winking at you through the crowd, if the smell of its wares entices you to climb its well-worn steps, come. Rest your feet. Refresh yourself. No matter what’s on the menu, it’s sure to satisfy. After all, the Warung Between Worlds always knows what you need.