Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air hung heavy with humidity, each breath thick and damp, the faint drizzle and midnight air doing little to cool the suffocating heat. Rain gathered in her hair and trickled down her neck as Yuu stepped out of the auto-repair shop, the metal door clattering shut behind her. She rolled her shoulder with a hiss through her teeth—the joint still tender from wrenching it back into place—and tucked a crumpled wad of damp cash into her sweatshirt pocket, the bills sticking together from sweat and rain.

The streetlights in front of the shop were long dead, their glass covers cracked and half-swallowed by rust. Nobody had bothered to fix them, and nobody wanted to. The darkness suited the owner—and most of the customers, too.

Yuu wiped the rain from her face with the back of her sleeve. The movement tugged at the bruise blossoming along her cheekbone, a sharp sting reminding her it would be black and purple by morning. She wasn’t sure if there was enough concealer left in the tube back home to hide it.

A low sigh slipped from her lips as the last of her adrenaline faded, leaving behind a hollow fatigue that seemed to seep into her bones. Her boots splashed lightly against the slick pavement as she turned down the street, passing puddles that mirrored the dull glow of faraway lights. Tires hissed on wet asphalt now and then, each passing car splashing through puddles and throwing up sprays of water before melting back into the night.

Under one of the few working lamps—its light a weak amber haze—an old man slept against the brick wall of a shuttered building. His clothes hung loose and torn, layers stiff with dirt and rain. A battered hat lay upside down beside him, a scattering of coins gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Yuu slowed her steps. Careful not to wake him, she slipped a five-dollar bill from her pocket and tucked it into the hat. “Night, Stump,” she murmured, her voice soft as the rain. No one ever used his real name—if he even remembered it himself. To the people of the city, he was just Stump: short, stocky, and rooted to that same stretch of sidewalk like part of the concrete itself.

Yuu turned toward the street, scanning both directions. The road stretched out under a shroud of darkness, slick with rain and glimmering faintly under the occasional flicker of a faraway streetlight. The air was unnervingly still—no hum of engines, no chatter from late-night drunks—just the soft hiss of drizzle against pavement. 

When she was sure no cars were coming, she stepped off the curb, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. It was about a thirty-minute walk home—longer now with her shoulder throbbing and her legs leaden. If she’d left the cage an hour earlier, she could’ve caught the last bus, but the city transit shut down at midnight sharp. Out here, after that, you were on your own.

She made it halfway across before she heard it—an odd, rhythmic clop, clop, clop, echoing faintly through the night. It didn’t sound like an engine or tires. It sounded old—metal on stone, deliberate and slow, growing louder with each beat.

Yuu frowned, turning her head. Through the mist and rain, two shapes emerged from the far end of the street—black as the night and moving fast. Horses. Their hooves struck the asphalt with an almost deafening force, steam rising from their nostrils, eyes burning like coals. Behind them, a dark carriage rattled in tow, its lacquered surface glinting wetly under the meager light. It looked like something pulled straight from a funeral procession—a hearse from another century.

Her pulse spiked, but her body lagged behind. The adrenaline from earlier had burned out, leaving her sluggish, heavy. She tried to move—tried to dive for the curb—but pain shot through her shoulder, and her legs refused to cooperate.

The last thing she saw was a flash of hooves and the gleam of a rain-slick wheel before the world went white with impact.

When Yuu came to, all there was was darkness. It pressed against her from every side—thick, suffocating, absolute. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut. The air was stale, heavy with the faint scent of dust and something metallic.

She tried to move and immediately hit her forehead against something solid above her. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate. She grunted, hand shooting up to cradle the sore spot—and froze.

Her skin brushed against fabric she didn’t recognize. The material was soft, almost silky, not the rough weave of her old sweatshirt. The sleeves hung loose around her arms, whispering as she moved—like she was wearing some kind of robe. A faint coolness seeped through the cloth, clean and almost luxurious against her skin.

Her pulse quickened. Where the hell was she?

A noise rattled somewhere in front of her—metal scraping, hinges groaning. It sounded like someone was trying to pry something open from the outside. Yuu held her breath.

Then came a muffled voice—low, raspy, and oddly cheerful. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀(I'd better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me…)”

She heard a grunt, followed by another scrape of metal and wood. The voice grew more strained. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Urg… this lid weighs a ton! Try this on for size! Mya-ha!)”

The world exploded in light. A sharp crack split the air, and a burst of blue fire erupted around her, casting eerie shadows against the walls. Yuu flinched, throwing her arms over her face as a rush of heat washed over her. The solid cover above her groaned, then flew off with a violent clang that echoed through the chamber.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀... (Now to grab the goods…)”

Blinking against the sudden glare, Yuu struggled to sit up. Her surroundings came into focus—a vast, circular chamber. Pillars of black stone lined the perimeter, each one fitted with a sconce that burned with an unearthly green flame. Between them, tall windows arched up to meet a domed ceiling, their glass tinted and fractured, letting in no real light. 

Suspended from the center was a chandelier of wrought iron and crystal, its beads catching the ghostly green glow and scattering it like shards of emerald across the floor. Round white gems and crystals hung in heavy drapes from the ceiling medallion, their ends brushing against the tops of floating coffins—yes, floating—that hovered lazily in the air.

At the heart of the room stood a massive, ornate mirror. It hovered above a fountain that bubbled with water so clear it shimmered green under the flames, rippling with soft, impossible light.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! (What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake!)”

 The voice snapped her out of her daze. Yuu turned toward it, her eyes locking on the creature standing before her.

It looked like a cat—sort of. Gray fur matted in places, a white patch on its chest, but what really drew her attention were the flames. Electric-blue fire flickered from its ears, curling and sparking like living energy. Its eyes glowed the same impossible blue, sharp and self-assured. Around its neck was a tattered, black-and-white striped bowtie, the ends frayed and uneven. Its tail split near the tip, forking like a devil’s pitchfork.

“A cat?” she muttered under her breath.

The creature’s ears flattened. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? (Huh? What’re you saying? Are you dumb or something?)” it snapped, its voice dripping with irritation. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Now, I—Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire—demand that you, human, gimme your uniform! And make it snappy!)”

Yuu blinked, uncomprehending. The sounds coming from the cat’s mouth didn’t register as words—or any language she knew. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Cats didn’t talk. Cats didn’t have blue flames for ears.

Her thoughts spun in a frantic blur, each one slipping through her grasp before she could make sense of it. Logic clawed for a foothold and found none. Maybe she’d hit her head harder than she thought. Maybe she was still lying in the street somewhere, rain soaking through her clothes while her brain misfired behind her skull.

She’d hallucinated before. Once after a bad concussion that left her seeing colors that didn’t exist, hearing voices that weren’t there. But this felt… real. Too real. The air had weight. The heat of the blue flames pressed through the thin robe she wore, and the smell of smoke and something faintly sweet—like burnt sugar—hung thick in the air.

The cat—she was pretty sure it was a cat—watched her with narrowed eyes, tail swishing in irritation. Its paw tapped against the ground in a steady rhythm, each strike punctuated by a hiss of blue flame that licked the air and vanished in motes of light. The glow painted the floor in shifting patterns, reflections dancing across her skin.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?!(Oi! Are you listening?!)” the creature barked, its voice cracking through the still air. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(If you don’t hand over your uniform, you’re gonna regret it!)”

Its words dripped with arrogance, the corners of its mouth curling in a smug grin as blue fire flared around its body—brief, hot bursts that hissed before vanishing into curls of smoke. Maybe it was trying to threaten her.

“Um… I’m sorry, cat,” Yuu said, voice tentative as she took a cautious step forward. Her legs trembled, muscles aching as she climbed out of the coffin, trying not to make any sudden movements that might set the thing off. The stone floor echoed slightly against her boots–ones that were not her own, but black with golden soles. “I don’t understand anything you’re saying.”

The cat huffed, clearly irritated, its fur bristling with static. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(What language are you even speaking? Quit acting dumb and gimme it already!)”

Before Yuu could respond, it lunged—fast, a gray blur streaked with blue flame. Her eyes widened, instincts kicking in just in time for her to sidestep, the motion sending a sharp jolt through her sore shoulder. The pain was familiar, grounding. She’d fought through worse in the cage—broken ribs, split lips, dislocated joints. Taking down a cat, even one that breathed fire, wouldn’t be hard. But she didn’t want to fight it. If she had somehow offended it, wasn’t that her fault? 

Her thoughts shattered when the creature let out a feral yowl. Blue fire erupted from its fur, licking the air and surging toward her in a wave. The heat cracked like gunfire. Yuu cursed under her breath, turning on her heel and sprinting across the chamber. The flames chased after her, painting the walls in ghostly blue. She may not want to harm the creature, but that didn’t mean she would allow it to burn her to a crisp.

 She darted past rows of long, ornate benches she hadn’t noticed before—dark wood polished to a shine, carved with unfamiliar designs. As she ran, she realized the room wasn’t as circular as she’d first thought. The space stretched into a long, cathedral-like hall, where the benches lined either side, tiered like a courtroom or a church.

Yuu threw her weight against the massive double doors at the end of the room, and they swung open with a heavy groan that echoed down the hall.

The air outside hit her like a shock—cool, sharp, smelling faintly of rain and moss. She stumbled out onto a stone walkway suspended high above the ground. The railing was low, slick with mist, and when she leaned over it, her stomach dropped. Far below, a courtyard stretched out like a painting—lush and green, threaded with ivy and marble fountains. Above that, towers rose like dark sentinels into the clouds, their pointed roofs gleaming purple under the moonlight. The whole place looked like a castle stitched together from shadows and dreams.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Oi! Come back here! Stop running!)” 

The voice tore through the quiet, closer now—followed by a gout of blue flame that seared past her shoulder and splashed harmlessly against the stone. Yuu ducked, teeth clenched, and took off again. The creature’s annoyed yowl echoed behind her, its paws pounding, firelight flashing off the walls.

Yuu clicked her tongue at the fact that the creature hadn’t given up chase and darted through corridor after corridor, each turn leading her deeper into the strange fortress. The halls shifted in style the farther she went—arched ceilings, flickering sconces, heavy wooden doors that gave way to rooms filled not with royal furniture, but desks, chalkboards, and shelves cluttered with glass vials and parchment. It looked more like a school than a castle—one built by someone who couldn’t decide which century to live in.

At last, she burst through another door and stumbled into what could only be a library.

Her breath caught. The ceiling soared so high it seemed to vanish into shadow. Mezzanines wrapped around the upper levels like rings, lined with iron railings and rows upon rows of shelves. Giant chandeliers hung low from the rafters, forged from blackened metal and dripping with chains and crystals. Each one burned with green fire that cast the entire room in an eerie glow. Smaller lamps flickered along the wooden pillars, their light pooling like melted emeralds on the floor.

Books floated lazily through the air—hundreds of them—turning their own pages, drifting from shelf to shelf as if moved by invisible hands. A few hovered in midair, waiting patiently for a place to land. Yuu stopped just inside the doorway, chest heaving, the smell of old paper filling her lungs.

“A… library,” Yuu muttered, her voice barely carrying over the echoing vastness of the space. Her gaze swept across the towering shelves and the green flames flickering along the chandeliers above.

Then came the rush of heat. Blue fire burst into being behind her, flooding the space with color and movement. Shadows leapt across the bookshelves, and for one heart-stopping moment, Yuu thought the flames would lick the parchment, devour the shelves, and send the whole place up in smoke. But just as quickly as it came, the blaze shrank back into itself—leaving the faint scent of singed air and the smug voice that started to irritate her more and more.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Foolish human!)” the creature sneered. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(Did you really think you could slip away from me?) ”

Yuu turned to face it. The cat stood near one of the tables, tail lashing, blue flames curling around his paws like serpents. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Now,)” he continued, holding out one paw expectantly, “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀--(unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that—)”

A sharp crack split the air.

It wasn’t thunder. It was the sound of something fast—leather, snapping through the air—and it struck the creature square across the back with a violent hiss. The cat yowled, twisting in shock and pain as a black whip coiled around its small body, pinning its legs together. The flames sputtered out.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?!(That hurt! What gives?!)” Grim shouted, wriggling against the restraint.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Consider it tough love,)” came a smooth voice from behind Yuu.

She spun around.

A man stood a few paces away, tall and lean, his shadow long against the emerald light. A mask shaped like a raven’s beak concealed half his face, its surface glossy black, the eyes above it gleaming gold through the dimness. Black, wavy, hair fell just past his ears—pointed ears, she realized, only half-hidden beneath the strands. A tall top hat rested on his head at a crooked angle, somehow dignified despite the chaos around him.

His coat—long, tailored, and the color of storm clouds—was embroidered with dark blue thread and trimmed with curling feathers at the collar. Beneath the coat, a crisp suit hugged his frame, completed by black gloves tipped with golden claw-rings that gleamed when he flexed his fingers.

Yuu blinked. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a story book—a magician, maybe? And like the cat, he spoke that same unfamiliar language, smooth and sharp, each word carrying an old-world rhythm that made her head ache trying to follow.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Ah,)” he said, his tone softening as his gaze fell upon her. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀.(I’ve found you at last. Splendid.)” His golden eyes narrowed slightly, studying her like one might inspect a peculiar artifact. “𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I trust you’re one of this year’s new students? My, were you ever eager to make your debut.)”

His brows drew together, the faintest frown creasing his otherwise composed expression. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school’s rules.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(As if I’d serve some lowly human!)” the cat snapped, thrashing in the whip’s grasp. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Now lemme go!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Yes, yes,)” the man replied absently, his tone laced with polite boredom. He tugged the whip free with a flick of his wrist and, in one fluid motion, scooped the squirming creature up by the scruff of its neck. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Rebellious familiars always say that.)” He tucked the cat neatly under his arm and gave his head an absent pat, as if scolding a mischievous pet. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(Do be quiet for a bit, won’t you?)”

A shimmer of light rippled in the air and a silvery ribbon appeared out of nowhere, wrapping itself neatly around the creature’s muzzle. His muffled protests came out as angry, garbled noises.

Yuu stared, unable to move. The man’s words continued, but they were meaningless to her, smooth syllables that rolled together like water slipping over stone. She caught none of it.

He sighed, exasperated but not unkind. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(Dear me. Of all the students I’ve dealt with, you’re the first with temerity enough to open your own gate and step through it. Does the concept of patience elude you entirely?)” His tone was half amusement, half reprimand. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀.(No matter. Orientation has already begun. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber.)”

He turned to leave, coat sweeping behind him in a rustle of fabric and feathers. For a moment, Yuu just stood there, the silence closing in like fog. Then, hesitantly—

“Um…” she began, her voice starting to shake with how out of place she felt in this strange world. “I don’t… I don’t understand anything you’re saying.”

The man paused mid-step. Slowly, he turned, head tilting slightly to one side, golden eyes gleaming through the shadow of his mask.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂?(Oh?)” he asked, voice thoughtful. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(What was that? I believe I misheard you.)”

“I—do you speak English?” Yuu managed, furrowing her brow as she tried to piece together some kind of communication. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Curious,)” the masked man murmured, his voice a silken hum muffled slightly by the black beak of his mask. He leaned down, close enough for Yuu to see the faint reflection of herself in those gold-glowing eyes, like candlelight trapped in glass. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀....(I’ve never met a student who didn’t speak the common tongue. Although…)” His gaze roamed her face, analytical and sharp. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(You speak in a language I don’t recognize.)”

“Yeah, man, I still don’t know what you’re saying,” Yuu sighed, running a hand through her hair before shrugging helplessly.

The man straightened, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. His posture carried the exaggerated drama of a stage actor, movements fluid but deliberate. Then, with a spark of recognition, his head lifted. He strode off with the sweep of his feathered coat, disappearing between two tall bookshelves. The sound of his boots echoed against the polished marble floor.

He reappeared a moment later, holding a parchment so old it looked ready to crumble. A map. He spread it open on a nearby table, the paper whispering as he smoothed it flat. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀--𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀'𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(We are here—Sage’s Island,)” he said slowly, his gloved finger tapping a small blot near the corner of the map. Then he pointed at Yuu, then to the parchment again, trailing his finger along the strange continents and their foreign words.

Yuu frowned, leaning over to look. None of the shapes matched anything she knew—not even vaguely. No North America, no Europe, no comforting outline of a world she could pretend to recognize. The names were written in curling, otherworldly script that her brain refused to interpret.

“Maybe he’s asking where I’m from,” she muttered under her breath, before looking up and the man and shaking her head. “I don’t recognize any of these places.”

The man’s expression fell. He folded the map with an impatient flick of his wrist and let it vanish in a swirl of black feathers. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(How strange,)” he muttered, almost to himself. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀...(Well, this will be much more difficult than I thought…)” He sighed, then pointed to himself, speaking slowly and clearly. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(My name is Dire Crowley.)”

He fished a small rectangle from his pocket—a sleek badge of polished silver—and held it up for her to see. It shimmered with faint magic, the letters beside his picture rearranging themselves, glowing faintly before solidifying into this world’s language. 

“Dire Crowley,” he repeated, tapping the badge, then pointing back to himself. 

 “Crowley,” she repeated, nodding. He smiled beneath his mask, evidently pleased.

She patted her pockets out of instinct, searching for her own wallet or phone, but her heart sank as her hands brushed nothing but fabric. The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water—everything she’d owned, everything she was, was gone. Even her clothes weren’t her own.

Her fingers brushed over smooth embroidery at her sleeve, and she looked down. The robes she wore were fine, almost ceremonial—black with gold-thread filigree curling at the hems and cuffs. The inner lining was a deep violet that shimmered faintly with movement. Beneath it, she wore black slacks and a crisp, collared shirt with matching gold embroidery at the collarbones. Only her undergarments felt like her own.

“I—I don’t have my ID,” she said, looking up helplessly. Crowley tucked his own badge away with an airy flick of his wrist, then waited expectantly for her to respond.

After a moment, she sighed, pointed at herself, and said, “Yuu.”

“Yuu?” he repeated, his accent curling strangely around the word. Then his tone brightened. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Splendid! Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way—you’ve a student orientation to attend! We can worry about this little language barrier later.)” He waved his arm dramatically, feathers rustling. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, Yuu, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Come now, Yuu, make haste!)”

Reluctantly, she followed. For all the bizarre posturing, he was the only person—or creature—who had even tried to communicate with her.

“Excuse me,” Yuu called, and he turned slightly, one golden eye peering over his shoulder. “Where am I?” she asked, gesturing vaguely to the gothic halls around them as they exited the library and soon the courtyard in the middle of this castle.

He blinked, then seemed to understand. With a flick of his fingers, the old map reappeared in a gust of black feathers and faint, shimmering dust. By now, Yuu wasn’t even surprised.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories,)” Crowley said, his tone dripping with exaggerated pity. “𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I suppose it’s possible it interfered with your grasp of the common tongue as well.)” He puffed out his chest. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(But fear not! My magnanimity knows no bounds!)”

He circled his hand dramatically over the entire map. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 Twisted Wonderland.(We are in Twisted Wonderland.)” He tapped the corner again. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 Sage's Island.(This is Sage’s Island.)” Then, tapping the ornate castle sketched at the top of the map, he gestured to the stone walls around them. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀—Night Raven College!(And here we stand—Night Raven College!)”

Yuu nodded slowly. The names meant nothing to her, but it was something to hold onto. A place. A name. A foothold in this strange world.

Crowley clasped his hands behind his back, posture impeccable. “𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I serve as Headmage, entrusted by the Chairman himself,)” he said proudly, puffing up his chest again.

Yuu blinked at him, blank-faced. He sighed, feathers ruffling in irritation. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Come, come. The Dark Mirror will no doubt illuminate your… predicament. Follow me, if you would.)”

As they walked back through the endless corridors of the castle, Yuu trailed behind Crowley like a lost shadow. Every step echoed against the cold stone floor, each footfall swallowed by the vastness of the place. omewhere far off, she thought she heard a bell toll—a hollow, distant sound that seemed to underline just how far from home she really was.

When they reached the tall, familiar doors of the room where she’d first awoken, Yuu could already hear voices drifting from inside. Dozens of them—young, lively, and loud. The contrast made her stomach twist. She hesitated on the threshold as Crowley pushed open the doors, and a wave of sound hit her like static.

The chamber was filled with people—teenagers, probably, if their youthful faces were any clue. All of them dressed in robes similar to hers, the same gold-threaded hems and dark, flowing fabric. For a moment, she wondered if they’d notice she didn’t belong. The thought of speaking—or trying to—made her throat tighten.

 What would she even say? Every word she knew meant nothing here. The language of this world rolled off tongues like strange music—fluid, melodic, and utterly incomprehensible. It made her feel small, as if she’d been dropped into a dream she couldn’t wake from, surrounded by people she could never understand.

At the front of the room stood six figures who seemed to command attention, each distinct in posture and presence. And floating beside them—a tablet, humming faintly with blue light. For a fleeting, irrational second, she wondered if she’d stumbled into a cult.

She caught the end of a sentence spoken by one of the boys—a round-eyed figure with red eyes and pale hair peeking from under his hood. His tone was light, full of innocence. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(Maybe he had a tummyache?)”

Crowley scoffed. “𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(I most certainly did not!)”

A short, redheaded boy, nearby. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Ah, speak of the devil,)” he said as Crowley strode down the aisle, feathers and coat tails flaring behind him. Yuu followed silently in his wake, feeling the eyes of every student in the room track her as she moved. Their gazes prickled at her skin.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀,(If you must know,)” Crowley huffed, resting his gloved hands on his hips, “𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I was retrieving the new student who failed to appear for orientation.)” He spun dramatically on his heel as they reached the far end of the chamber, stopping before the massive mirror that dominated the wall.

He turned to Yuu, gesturing her forward. “Yuu,” he said—the familiar word sounding strange on his otherwise foreign speech—then motioned toward the mirror. His tone made it clear enough. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Step up to the Dark Mirror.)”

The cat under his arm squirmed and hissed, but Yuu barely noticed. Her feet carried her forward, slow and uncertain, until she stood before the mirror’s towering frame.

The surface wasn’t glass—it was darker than that, more like liquid shadow, deep enough that it might swallow her whole if she stepped too close. As she stared, her reflection blurred, then vanished entirely. Out of the void emerged a mask—white porcelain, expressionless save for the delicate black filigree curling around its hollow eyes.

The mask spoke, its voice deep and resonant, echoing in the hollow of her chest. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(State your name.)”

Yuu blinked, glancing back at Crowley. 

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Name,)” he repeated, then he pointed to himself, “Dire Crowley 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Dire Crowley is my name.)” Yuu’s eyes widened slightly in understanding, “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 name 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 Yuu(Your name is Yuu.)”

She turned back to face the mirror, “I’m Yuu…”

The mask’s head inclined. “Yuu,” it repeated, the sound reverberating through the chamber. Then its tone shifted, growing colder. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(The nature of your soul is… unclear to me.)”

Crowley frowned, stepping closer. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(What did you just say?)”

“𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I sense no magic within this one,)” the mirror intoned. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.)”

Whispers rippled through the crowd like a tide. Yuu’s heart pounded as she turned, scanning the faces around her—none of them familiar, all of them speaking in a language she couldn’t grasp. Their eyes darted toward her, curious, judgmental, almost pitying. She felt like a ghost that had wandered into the world of the living.

What does that mean? she wanted to ask. What’s happening? But her voice wouldn’t be heard. Even if she spoke, they wouldn’t understand her. She could only stand there, mute and alone, while confusion and unease knotted tighter in her chest.

If only this were a fight. If only pain came in the shape of a fist she could dodge, a strike she could return. In the ring, she could speak without words, tell and command respect in the language of impact and breath. But this silence, this confusion—it left her unarmed.

Crowley’s voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and indignant. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(Are you suggesting the black carriage went to receive a person who cannot even use magic?)” His tone rose in disbelief. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(That is absurd! The selection process has not erred once in a century of existence!)” He pressed a gloved hand to his chin, pacing in agitation. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀...(How could this have happened…)”

From beside the man, the cat wriggled free of his grip with a violent twist, landing on the floor in a puff of displaced dust.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Me!)” it shouted, voice sharp and petulant, “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Let me have this student’s seat!)”

The man’s voice cracked like thunder. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Not so fast, you hyperactive tanuki!)” he shouted, trying to grab hold of the runaway cat.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Unlike that human, I can actually use magic!)” the cat grinned, puffing up its chest with smug self-importance. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(So let me be a student here! Look, I’ll show you! My spells’re the cat’s meow!)”

As the cat drew in a deep, rumbling breath, its chest expanding like a bellows, the shorter red-haired boy’s voice cut through the tension.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Everyone, get down!)”

A roar split the air. Blue fire burst from the creature’s jaws, flooding the room in a blinding wave of heat and light. The flames licked across the stone walls, crawling up tapestries and scattering the shadows that once clung to the ceiling beams. Students screamed, chairs screeched against the floor, and in the chaos, the boy with crimson eyes let out a startled shout—his robes had caught fire.

He flailed, swatting desperately at the growing blaze consuming his sleeve, his panicked voice drowned beneath the cacophony of terrified students stampeding for the door. The once-orderly room devolved into pandemonium.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Someone catch that blasted animal before it sets the entire school ablaze!)” Headmage Crowley bellowed, his gaze snapped toward a small group of five students who and one floating tablet, unlike the others, hadn’t fled.

One of them—a tall boy with tanned skin and golden lion ears—let out an unimpressed scoff, crossing his arms lazily. He looked more irritated than alarmed, murmuring something to the student beside him, a slender boy with meticulously applied eyeliner and a faintly smug expression—so pretty in face that Yuu almost mistook him for a girl at first glance.

A third student, pale-haired and bespectacled, stepped forward with an unnervingly serene smile. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 Crowley(Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley,)” he said smoothly, voice dripping with rehearsed politeness. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.)”

Meanwhile, the red-eyed boy was still half on fire. His shouts were growing more frantic as the flames crept higher.

Yuu cursed under her breath, ignoring the ongoing commotion and darting toward him. The air stank of smoke and scorched fabric. “Hold still!” she barked, grabbing at his sleeve, but he jerked away, eyes wide and confused. The language barrier.

She clicked her tongue in irritation and tugged hard on his robe, motioning for him to take it off. “Take it off before it burns you!” she repeated, more forcefully. This time, he seemed to understand. He stumbled out of the garment, and together they stamped it out underfoot until the last of the flames hissed and died.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Ah, thank goodness!)” The boy exhaled a shaky laugh, beaming at her as though he hadn’t just been seconds from becoming a torch. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Thank you!)”

“Uh, your… welcome?” Yuu replied uncertainly, praying that was a ‘thank you’ and not some elaborate insult with a smile attached.

When she turned back toward the rest of the room, the chaos had only worsened. The cat—a sleek gray creature with glowing eyes—was darting across the floor, blue fire trailing in its wake. Two of the boys were in hot pursuit, shouting spells that fizzled or missed entirely as the creature bounded toward her.

Yuu tensed. As the cat lunged in her direction, she sidestepped and thrust out her foot. The creature sprang to avoid it—but Yuu’s hand shot out, quick as a whip, and she caught it by the tail. The cat yowled indignantly, twisting in her grip, its flames flickering with its fury.

“Sorry, sorry...” she muttered, wincing as it thrashed. “You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

The red-haired boy raised what looked like a black pen, his eyes glinting. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Off with your head!)” he shouted dramatically.

In an instant, a heart-shaped collar—half white, half black—snapped around the cat’s neck with a metallic click. The creature froze, its flames sputtering out.

Yuu released it carefully, watching as the cat pawed furiously at the collar. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?!(What are you doing?!)” it shrieked, voice sharp and indignant.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(The Queen of Hearts, Rule Twenty-Three,)” the red-haired boy recited coolly, his voice precise and unwavering—as if delivering a verdict rather than a warning. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(One must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Your very presence here is a violation of order. You will vacate these premises immediately.)”

The gray creature bristled, its fur standing on end. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(But I ain’t a cat, either!)” it yowled, tail lashing in defiance. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Don’t you try ’n collar me! I’ll burn it right off!)” It drew in a sharp breath, chest puffing, flames flickering faintly in its throat—but nothing came. Its eyes widened in confusion. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀...? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Huh…? What gives? My fire ain’t workin’!)”

A ripple of whispers passed through the remaining students, their nervous laughter echoing faintly against the soot-streaked walls. The smell of smoke still clung to the air, mingled with the sharp tang of scorched fabric and fear.

Crowley’s gloved hands came together in a sharp clap, the sound ringing through the room like a gavel striking wood. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(Enough already!)” he declared, “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Mr. Rosehearts, please escort this creature off campus and have your vice housewarden guide the freshmen to their dorms.)”He turned, addressing the others—the remaining five students and the hovering tablet—with a flourish of his hand. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂!(The same goes for the rest of the Housewardens. Escort your students back to your dorms at once!)”

The group dispersed in a flurry of movement, students obediently filing after their respective leaders. The boy with scarlet hair didn’t bother with delicacy—he lifted the gray creature by the scruff of its neck, the cat yowling in protest as its paws flailed uselessly. His expression was one of strict disapproval, the very picture of regal authority even as he stomped out of the ruined classroom.

Yuu couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity. The creature looked small now—diminished without its flames, its defiance reduced to hissing complaints. For all its bluster, it seemed more frightened than fierce.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀.Vanrouge,(Mr. Vanrouge,)” Crowley called out, his tone softening slightly as the last few students lingered near the doorway.

A diminutive figure stepped forward, and Yuu blinked. For a moment, she thought a child had wandered in by mistake. The boy was slight, with ink-black hair trimmed into sharp, angled bangs streaked with magenta highlights. His eyes were a deep, gleaming red, their vertical pupils flicking toward her like a cat’s. Despite his youthful appearance, there was something distinctly ancient about the way he carried himself—a lazy grace paired with an oddly knowing smile that revealed a pair of small fangs.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀?(How may I assist, Headmage?)” he asked in a sing-song tone, his voice smooth but edged with mischief.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(After escorting your students—since it seems Mr. Draconia is not present—come back to the Mirror Room,)” Crowley said.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Of course,)” the boy replied lightly. His crimson gaze lingered on Yuu for a moment, curious but unreadable, before he turned and drifted toward the exit, his footsteps soundless on the charred floorboards.

Once the last of the students were gone, silence settled over the room like dust after a storm. The faint crackle of dying embers echoed from where the flames had licked the walls. Crowley exhaled a long, weary sigh and adjusted his mask.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, Yuu,(Well, Yuu,)” he began, his tone suddenly solemn, “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(this is a most unfortunate turn of events.)”

Yuu couldn’t understand his words, but he seemed to be disappointed in something. Perhaps disappointed with the efficiency of getting the cat out of the room? She just wondered when she was to go home–if she was even able to go home.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(I’m afraid you will not be attending Night Raven College after all.)”

He started toward the tall mirror at the center of the room, the surface shimmering faintly like rippling water. Yuu followed, her reflection wavering beside his.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(We cannot admit a student with no magical ability into a magical academy,)” Crowley continued, his voice echoing softly in the vast, empty hall. “𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Which, I suppose, is good for you. The Dark Mirror will see you safely home.)”

Crowley gestured toward one of the ornate coffins lining the circular chamber, the motion oddly gentle. Yuu hesitated, glancing between him and the coffin. The air here felt heavy—too still, as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath. Everything about this place reeked of the unnatural: the echo of her footsteps, the way the walls seemed to absorb sound, even the faint scent of incense and dust. She swallowed, hoping—praying—that whatever ritual Crowley was about to perform would send her home.

With cautious steps, she climbed into the coffin. The interior was surprisingly cool, the fabric beneath her fingertips soft and silken like old velvet. She leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving the Headmage as he stepped toward the mirror at the center of the room.

“𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀(Visualize the place from whence you came,)” Crowley intoned, his voice echoing faintly off the high walls. He glanced over his shoulder at Yuu before turning back to the mirror. “𝄂𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄀!(O, Dark Mirror! Return this soul to where it belongs!)”

The chamber fell utterly silent. The mirror’s surface rippled like disturbed water, then stilled. A faint image shimmered into view—the pale, expressionless mask with hollow eyes.

Crowley straightened, feathers rustling, and awkwardly cleared his throat. “𝄂𝄀𝄂-𝄂𝄀𝄂𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(L-let us, er… try this again.)” His tone wavered, the confidence slipping from his voice. “𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—(O, Dark Mirror! Return this soul—)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(There is no such place,)” the mirror interrupted.

Though she didn’t understand the language, Yuu felt the shift in the air—a creeping cold that slithered down her spine, as if something in her very core had gone still.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What?)” Crowley stammered, his mask tilting slightly toward the mirror.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(There is no place in this world where this soul belongs,)” the mirror replied, its voice smooth and distant, almost pitying. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(None.)”

Crowley froze. For a moment, he said nothing, his feathered shoulders rising and falling in slow disbelief. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(How can this be…)” he muttered, voice faint as he lowered his gaze to his gloved hands. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(A soul without a place?)” He began pacing, murmuring under his breath before gesturing for Yuu to step closer.

Not understanding, Yuu climbed out of the coffin and approached hesitantly. The change in his demeanor unsettled her—gone was the blustering confidence, replaced by a troubled silence.

He tapped his chin, then with a dramatic flourish produced a scroll-like map from within his cloak. The parchment unfurled with a papery snap, covered in swirling inked continents and names written in ornate script. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What land do you hail from?)” he asked, holding it up for her to see. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Surely you recognize it here? Perhaps you merely missed it before—or misunderstood me?)”

Yuu frowned, scanning the unfamiliar names again. None of them stirred even the faintest recognition. She shook her head, gently pushing the map away. “I don’t recognize any of these places,” she said quietly.

Crowley’s posture slumped, a sigh escaping him. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Impossible…)” he murmured. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Simply impossible.)”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice floated through the chamber. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(My, my—such heavy energy.)”

Yuu flinched, spinning around, fist instinctively raising. The boy from before—Vanrouge, she recalled—had appeared soundlessly, as if he’d simply materialized from the shadows. His smile was warm and teasing, but his presence was oddly ethereal, his red eyes gleaming like embers.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀,(Sorry, sorry,)” he said with a light chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I did not mean to startle.)”

Crowley exhaled, visibly relieved at the interruption. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. Vanrouge, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Mr. Vanrouge, excellent timing.)” He turned to Yuu expectantly, gesturing for her to speak.

“Uh… can you—do you understand me?” she asked hopefully, voice trembling slightly. “Please say you do.”

Vanrouge’s eyes widened in mild surprise, head tilting. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Oh?)”

Crowley addressed him quickly. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Do you recognize his language? He does not seem to speak the common tongue. Nor is the mirror able to find the land they hail from, meaning I am unable to send him home.)”

The two conversed fluidly, their words washing over Yuu like water she couldn’t grasp. They spoke about her, not to her—voices measured and clinical, as if she were some oddity under glass.

Vanrouge’s expression softened as he turned back to Crowley. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I do recognize it,)” he said thoughtfully, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(but it is old—it was considered archaic even when I was a child. It was never formally taught.)” His gaze flicked toward Yuu, eyes glimmering with faint curiosity. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Still, I may be able to find some textbooks written in that tongue. Perhaps they’ll help us understand. I imagine he is as confused as we are.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(I see…)” Crowley murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

Vanrouge hesitated before speaking again. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(What will you do with the child, then? He is not assigned a dorm. Diasomnia would be more than happy to provide shelter for him, if you permit it.)”

Crowley hummed thoughtfully, tapping a clawed fingertip against the beak of his mask. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(As an educator, I am loathe to expel a young person without a cent to their name, or any means of contacting their guardian…)” His voice grew quieter as he muttered to himself, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂(Truly, my grace knows no bounds.)” Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, he straightened. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. Vanrouge! 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Ah! No need for that, Mr. Vanrouge! I have just the place for this young man!)”

Vanrouge chuckled lightly, his ruby eyes flicking toward Yuu. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I will see what I can find,)” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. With a casual wave and a faint shimmer of magic, he vanished—disappearing in a blink, as though he had simply melted into the air.

Yuu blinked in astonishment, staring at the empty space he had occupied moments before.

Crowley cleared his throat to reclaim her attention. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Now then! There is a vacant building on campus—oh, never mind me explaining to you,)” he said, motioning for her to follow. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Come along.)”

Yuu trailed after him as they exited the grand hall, the echo of their footsteps swallowed by the quiet expanse of the academy grounds. The moon hung low, silver light rippling across dark cobblestones slick with mist. The campus seemed endless—winding paths, looming towers, and arches that reached for the stars.

As they walked, Crowley exclaimed the same phrases over and over into the night. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I am so kind,)” he said once, then again, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Such profound kindness in my heart… Truly, I am a gracious man!)”

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a corner of the campus shrouded in shadow. A rusted iron gate loomed before them, its hinges shrieking as Crowley pushed it open. Beyond it stood a building that looked as though it had been forgotten by time.

The old dormitory leaned slightly, its roof sagging beneath the weight of age. Cracked windows reflected the faint glow of the moon, and the surrounding trees stood dead and brittle, their bare branches clawing at the air like skeletal hands. The air smelled of rust and damp earth.

“Ramshackle Dorm!” Crowley announced dramatically, spreading his arms as if unveiling a grand palace. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Out of the kindness of my heart, I have decided to let you stay here!)”

Yuu stared. The dorm looked one strong wind away from collapsing.

Still, she followed him up the worn stone steps. The door creaked like an old beast as she pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty halls. A cloud of dust billowed up, making her cough and wave a hand in front of her face.

Inside, the air was stale. Straight ahead from the main entrance hall, was what she assumed to be an old lounge. The lounge was a graveyard of forgotten furniture—broken wooden chairs, torn and moth-eaten couches, and portraits hung crooked on peeling wallpaper. The colors had long since faded, replaced with the dull brown of rot and dust. Cobwebs stretched like ghostly lace from corner to corner.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(This should keep the elements at bay, for the time being,)” Crowley said, surveying the room with forced optimism. His voice echoed faintly, as if even the walls disapproved.

Yuu watched him warily. Was this where he planned to leave her? An abandoned shell of a dorm, tucked far from anyone else? Maybe he’d return once he found a way to send her home. Or maybe this was just his way of setting her aside, out of sight and out of mind. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would this be her first time in a rundown building like this.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I will be back with some food!)” he declared cheerfully. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I can’t just leave you to starve—oh, how wonderful and kind am I!)”

He turned on his heel to leave, but Yuu took a step forward instinctively. He stopped, pivoting back with a wag of his finger.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. Stay 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Stay here, please. Stay. I feel like Divus!)” he said, chuckling softly to himself.

He pointed at her, then to the dorm, then to the floor, as if teaching a pet a command.

It took her a second, but realization dawned—he wanted her to remain here. That was fine, she supposed. The place was enormous; surely she could find one room decent enough to sleep in. Besides… she’d never had a space to herself before. Her old foster home had always been crowded, noisy. For once, she could breathe.

If she had made it home that night instead of being struck by that carriage… she would have had to face her foster siblings’ constant nagging and questions. Maybe this was better—at least for now.

Crowley paused at the threshold, tapping his chin. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Hm… I suppose I will have to find you some extra clothes. I can’t have you wandering around in ceremonial robes forever. Oh, how truly benevolent am I!)” he laughed, disappearing into the night.

The echo of his footsteps faded until only silence remained.

Yuu exhaled, finally taking in the full scope of the dorm. The ceilings were pocked with holes, exposing the dark rafters and even glimpses of the second and third floors. The air smelled of mildew and stale wood. There were many doors in the lounge, as well as stairs lining the wall leading to the second floor. One of which, was leading to another open area of the dorm.

She carefully shrugged off her ceremonial robe, folding it neatly and placing it on a less-dusty section of a broken coffee table. Then, curiosity leading her, she ventured down the hall.

Each step made the floor groan under her weight. The boards were soft in places, brittle in others. The flickering lights overhead struggled to stay on, buzzing faintly as she passed. She peeked through each doorway—it seemed to be bedrooms, most were in ruins, their furniture half-collapsed, the air thick with dust.

But one room, across the steps, seemed less forsaken than the rest. The bed still stood intact, though its headboard was chipped and split. The sheets, surprisingly, were whole—musty but free of holes. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

Yuu smiled faintly to herself. Maybe she could clean it up—find a broom or rag, make it livable. She’d done more with less before. All this dorm needed was a little bit of elbow grease.

Stepping back into the hall, she caught sight of the cracked windows. Outside, rain had begun to fall—soft at first, then steadier, a muted rhythm against the glass. The sound filled the silence, soothing but lonely.

She pressed a hand to the windowpane, watching droplets race down the glass. It hit her then—the exhaustion, the fear, the quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t home. Not even in the same world.

Magic was real here. The people, the creatures, the unknown language—it was all real. And she was utterly, impossibly alone.

Her breath fogged the glass as she looked up. Her parents used to tell her, If the world ever feels too big, look up at the night sky. No matter how far you go, we’ll be right there too, under the same stars.

But as she stared past the clouds, she realized she didn’t recognize a single star. No North Star, no Big Dipper, no Orion’s Belt—only strange constellations glittering faintly in a foreign sky.

It was beautiful.

And it made her feel more lost and alone than ever.

Chapter Text

The soft patter of rain against the roof lulled Yuu into a trance, each drop falling in a slow, rhythmic cadence that seemed to quiet the world. Her eyes grew heavy, thoughts blurring with the steady hiss of water—until a single cold droplet struck her nose. She blinked sharply, wiping it away, and tilted her head up just in time to see another drop fall from the ceiling.

“Tch,” she muttered, furrowing her brows. The roof was leaking again—no surprise there—but the lounge was bound to be worse.

Rolling up the sleeves of her black button-up past her elbows, Yuu exhaled through her nose and set off back towards the main hall. The air was damp, tinged with the scent of mildew and old wood. She found an abandoned storage closet tucked between the stairs and the doorway leading to the main entrance hall. Dust cloaked every surface like a shroud, and the air was heavy with neglect. Still, the tools within—mops, brooms, buckets—though ancient, looked serviceable enough.

She hooked as many buckets as she could over one arm, grabbed a threadbare washcloth and a broom, and made her way back. Her footsteps echoed softly through the empty corridor, mingling with the distant rhythm of the storm.

Back in the lounge, she began her quiet work. Buckets were placed under the rhythmic drips, the plink of falling water forming a surprisingly comforting melody. Yuu set one rag in a pail, letting it soak with the raindrops that collected while she swept. Dust rose in soft clouds as she dragged the broom across the warped floorboards, lifting the ragged carpet to clean below it, the faint scent of old ash and dust stirring with each stroke. Cobwebs trembled in the corners, and bits of debris littered the ground.

After sweeping the debris into a pile, she wrung out the rag and began wiping the furniture. The faded wood drank up the water greedily as she scrubbed away the layers of dust blanketing every surface. Tiny dust motes danced in the air, swirling in the dim light of the dorm.

When she finally straightened, her spine popped audibly. She groaned, pressing a hand to her lower back, and surveyed the room. It wasn’t perfect—the cobwebs clinging to the high corners would need a ladder she didn’t have—but it looked… livable, at least. Cleaner. The air even smelled lighter.

Then, something shifted.

A cold prickle crawled up her spine, and the faint sound of rain seemed to fade into silence. The air grew still, heavy, and too quiet.

Yuu turned slowly, scanning the empty room. “...Hello?” Her voice came out softer than she intended. “Is anyone there?”

No answer. Only the faint creak of the old building settling. She frowned, glancing toward the entrance hall. Maybe Crowley had returned? But when she stepped closer, the doorway yawned open into darkness. Empty.

She noticed the broken rocking chair by the front door and clicked her tongue. She’d meant to clean that. The cabinet beside it could probably be salvaged, though both were thick with dust.

Turning back to the lounge, she tossed the damp rag into one of the buckets with a soft splash. Rainwater rippled inside, filling nearly a quarter of the way up. She reached for the broom lying across the coffee table beside her neatly folded ceremonial robes—then froze.

A soft sound echoed behind her. A giggle. Light, fleeting, barely there beneath the hush of the rain.

Her fingers curled slowly around the broom’s handle.

There it was again—a faint rustle, a whisper of movement just behind her.

Without hesitation, Yuu spun on her heel and hurled the broom like a spear. The wood whistled through the air and struck the far wall with a sharp thunk. It quivered there, embedded at an angle—its handle passing straight through something pale and shimmering.

Yuu’s breath caught.

A translucent figure floated before her, impaled cleanly through the chest. It was gaunt and spectral, its sunken cheeks hollow beneath the brim of a crumpled top hat. A long, tattered cape drifted around it like smoke.

The ghost blinked down at the broom handle jutting clean through its translucent chest, its expression unreadable beneath the pale flicker of its form. Then, its mouth curled into a grin far too wide for its face. A shrill, piercing laugh burst forth, echoing through the empty lounge like a chorus of warped bells. The ghost twisted its spectral body with languid ease, the broom handle sliding through its form like mist before it drifted free entirely. It hovered in the air, its outline rippling faintly with each movement. Then, almost playfully, it leaned forward and tapped the broom handle still lodged in the wall. Its grin widened as if delighted by the absurdity of it all—by her attempt to fight something that wasn’t bound by the same rules of flesh and gravity.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You have impressive aim,)” came Crowley’s voice from the doorway, smooth and measured. He stepped into the lounge, the faint clack of his shoes punctuating the quiet. In one hand, he balanced a silver tray of steaming food; behind him, a neat stack of folded clothes floated obediently through the air as if carried by invisible hands.

With a sigh that sounded halfway between amusement and mild exasperation, he extended his free hand and tugged the broom out of the wall. It came loose with a dull crunch of old plaster, leaving behind another gaping hole in the already battle-worn surface. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(And surprising strength,)” he added, brushing a few flecks of dust off his shoulder.

Yuu winced, her stomach twisting at the sight of yet another wound in the decrepit wall. Before she could reply, the air shimmered—then two more figures slipped through the cracked plaster as if it were nothing but fog.

Both were as translucent as the first: one broad and rotund with a floating top hat perched precariously on his head, the other more average in build with a crooked grin. Their tattered coats fluttered weightlessly around them, their movements fluid and eerily graceful.

“There’s… ghosts,” Yuu breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened as the trio erupted into peals of shrill laughter that rang off the walls. “Ghosts are real.” She couldn’t help a half-dazed chuckle—after all, if magic existed, this shouldn’t have been the strangest thing she’d seen.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Throwing a broom at us is no way to greet your hosts!)” the skinny ghost scolded cheerfully, swooping close enough that his hat nearly brushed her face.

He passed through her chest in the next instant. Yuu gasped at the sensation—it wasn’t pain, exactly, but a biting cold, like plunging headfirst into icy water. Goosebumps rippled down her arms, and a visible shiver followed.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(But we’ll be polite,)” the ghost continued, spinning in midair with a flourish, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, '𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!'(and say, ‘Welcome to our humble abode!’)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀,(Oh, a detail I had forgotten,)” Crowley murmured, setting the tray down on the coffee table beside Yuu as if this were all perfectly ordinary. He gestured lazily toward the specters now circling Yuu like curious moths. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(This place is inhabited by some playful spirits.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Make yourself at home!)” one ghost chimed, bowing low enough that his hat fell straight through the floorboards.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(We haven’t had visitors in ages!)” another said, clapping his wispy hands together.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I know!)” the third shouted gleefully, swooping low enough that his face hovered inches from Yuu’s. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Why don’t you become a ghost, too? There’s no suffering and death in our world!)”

Yuu blinked, their voices echoing faintly in her ears. Despite the absurdity of it all, she didn’t sense malice—just mischief. Carefully, she extended a hand toward one of them. Her fingers slipped through his form, sending ripples through the misty outline of his body.

Her eyes lit up. “Cool,” she breathed, laughter bubbling up in genuine wonder.

The ghosts froze midair.

They exchanged glances, their faces falling into identical looks of baffled disappointment.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Why wasn’t he scared?)” one muttered, wringing his translucent hands.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Did he not understand us?)” another whispered, as they began to drift away, their voices fading into overlapping grumbles.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Now then,)” Crowley began, his voice cutting cleanly through the soft patter of rain outside. His tone carried that natural, peculiar mix, of grandeur and irritation. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I am allowing you to stay here free of charge—since it is, in part, our fault you’ve found yourself stranded. However, we cannot afford to sustain your entire livelihood while we work on… shall we say, finding a method to return you to your home.)”

Yuu blinked at him, expression blank, then shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I feel like we’ve established this before, but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

She’d pieced together a few things since waking up here—that this was some sort of school, that she was currently living in an abandoned dorm, and that the man standing before her was named Crowley. Beyond that, everything was a mystery. Still, judging by his air of self-importance and the fact he seemed the only adult she’d met, Yuu assumed he was the one in charge—or at least thought he was.

Crowley let out a contemplative hum as he frowned softly. Then, as if struck by inspiration, he snapped his fingers. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Ah!)”

Reaching into his coat with a flourish, he produced a slip of parchment-thin paper. Yuu tilted her head curiously as he held it up between two gloved fingers.

Before he could say a word, she plucked it straight from his hand.

Crowley let out a scandalized noise. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀—!(Really—!)”

She ignored him, turning the paper over in her hands. It was about the size of a dollar bill and had the same crisp, fibrous feel. The corners, however, were snipped at the angles, almost like old-fashioned carnival tickets. The paper was a warm, tannish hue, stamped in the center with a bold black symbol.

“What is this?” she asked, holding it up. “Is this… money here?”

Crowley blinked, taken aback. His expression softened into intrigue as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, stepping closer to inspect her reaction. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(You truly have no idea what this is?)”

Yuu only stared back blankly, tilting her head.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Fascinating…)” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Perhaps you are not from this world at all… maybe… a different dimension?)” His words trailed off into thoughtful muttering before he suddenly straightened, puffing his chest with renewed purpose. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(This,)” he declared, snatching the currency back and tapping the bill between his fingers, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 thaumark. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(is called a thaumark. It is our currency.)”

“Thaumark,” Yuu repeated under her breath, watching as he rubbed his fingers together meaningfully before gesturing to the bill again. She was starting to piece it together—money, payment, trade. Basic enough.

Crowley pointed at her, then the thaumark, and crossed his arms in a dramatic X. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You,)” he said firmly, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(do not possess any of this currency.)” He glanced around, noticing the dramatic cleanliness of the lounge since the first hour he had left Yuu alone. His gaze flicked back to her arms—lean, the kind built from blood, sweat, and tears—and a satisfied smile tugged at his mouth. Then, shifting smoothly into a sweeping gesture toward the lounge, he mimed sweeping motions with exaggerated flair.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(In exchange for thaumarks to sustain yourself,)” he continued, voice lilting as if addressing a stage audience, “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀--𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I shall allow you to perform maintenance around campus—yes, a most generous offer, wouldn’t you agree? And, as an additional courtesy, you may use the library to research potential means of returning to your world.)”

Yuu stared at him through his grand pantomime of gestures, trying to keep up as he alternated between pointing at her, miming scrubbing motions, gesturing to the campus beyond, and brandishing the thaumark like a prize. It was like watching a very convoluted game of charades.

Still, she thought she got the gist. She nodded slowly. Clean the school, earn money, buy necessities. Fair enough.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Excellent!)” Crowley clapped his hands together with a satisfied grin. The sound carried through the air like a small burst of magic, and the folded stack of clothes floating at his side immediately drifted toward Yuu.

She caught them carefully. The top set looked formal—a neatly pressed school uniform consisting of a crisp white button-up, black trousers and matching black suit jacket, a charcoal-gray vest, and a striped black-and-white tie. The fabric was surprisingly soft beneath her fingers, the faint scent of starch and parchment clinging to it. Beneath it was another outfit, more casual and utilitarian in design: charcoal-gray t-shirt with the raven school crest printed over the chest, a pair of black shorts, and a one-piece black jumpsuit made of flexible material that looked far more comfortable than the formal set above it.

It looked straightforward enough—the jumpsuit and t-shirt, likely the school’s PE uniform or work attire. That assumption held until her eyes fell on the shorts again. She froze, frowning slightly as she lifted them.

Those weren’t shorts.

They were men’s boxer shorts.

Her face flushed faintly as realization sank in. She turned the garment over in her hand, the fabric feather-light and utterly unmistakable. With an incredulous look, she raised a brow and pointed accusingly at the offending article.

“Uh… why’d you give me men’s underwear?” she asked, her tone teetering on reluctant politeness. Maybe he was too embarrassed to find women’s panties?

Crowley straightened, looking perfectly unbothered. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Well,)” he began, pressing a hand to his chest with exaggerated dignity, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(as gracious and thoughtful as I am, I realized it would be quite unhygienic for you to have only one pair of undergarments.)” He shuddered delicately, his feathers ruffling, his stare far off. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yes… quite unhygienic indeed.)”

Yuu blinked at him. Once. Twice.

Right. Of course. That explained absolutely nothing.

Suppressing a sigh, she gave up on verbally questioning his logic and instead glanced around for something—anything—that might make communicating easier. Then an idea struck her. She raised her hand and mimed scribbling in the air. “Do you have a pen and paper or something?”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Oh, yes, that would be beneficial for mutual understanding,)” Crowley said cheerfully, nodding as if it had been his idea all along. He tapped his ornate staff—a long, key-shaped scepter she hadn’t even noticed him holding before. There was a small shimmer of blue light, and in his hand appeared a sheet of parchment and a short pencil.

He held them out with a flourish. Yuu took them gratefully, quickly sketching a simple stick figure of a woman—the sort one might find on a public restroom door. She held it up beside her face and pointed between the two.

“You know I’m a girl, right?” she said, half-joking but half-serious. Sure, she wasn’t wearing makeup, and her hair was a little messy from earlier, but she didn’t think she looked that bad–bad enough to look like a guy... no offense to guys.

Crowley stared at the drawing, then at her. The silence stretched uncomfortably long. She could almost hear the gears in his mind grinding painfully against one another. His eyes darted downward, assessing her shape now that she wasn’t buried beneath ceremonial robes.

Heat crept up her neck. “Are you seriously—?”

Crowley suddenly straightened. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Oh.)” He hummed, rubbing his chin as if this new information were a curious puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit the picture. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yes, well,)” he said at last, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(that may… be a problem.)”

Yuu frowned, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

Without answering, he plucked the pencil and paper from her hands and began sketching rapidly. His lines were surprisingly clean—an outline of a tall, spired castle that she recognized as the school. Then he drew his own stick figure: one resembling a boy, drawing it beside her original figure. Crowley pointed to the boy, saying a word she assumed meant “boy,” then gestured to her drawing and supplied the word for “girl.”

He drew two arrows leading from each figure to the castle. Over the boy’s arrow, he marked a bold checkmark. Over the girl’s, a large X. He turned the page toward her, expression serious.

“Night Raven College,” he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctant apology, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-boys 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(is an all-boys school.)” He sighed dramatically, resting one hand on his hip. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 boy 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(As much as I would love to believe the best of my students, I fear it would be… safer, shall we say, for you to pretend to be a boy while you remain here. Especially since you do not have an affinity for magic.)”

Yuu stared at the page, then up at him, then back down.

The realization hit her like a stone sinking in water.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any other girls—not during what she assumed was the orientation, not in the halls, nowhere. She’d been too disoriented to notice, but now the absence felt glaringly obvious. She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. It wasn’t as if she wanted to think the worst, but…

If this place was full of teenage boys, maybe keeping a low profile was the smartest move. 

She exhaled softly, accepting the paper in quiet defeat, the faintest crease forming between her brows. If worse came to worst, she reminded herself, I can handle myself. She’d learned how to throw a punch and take one, how to twist out of a grip even against someone twice her size. But that was back home—against people, not mages. If magic got involved… she wasn’t entirely sure how far her self-defense skills would take her.

Crowley, meanwhile, was muttering half to himself, his words flowing like a man already writing tomorrow’s to-do list.

 “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I’ll have to inform the other staff members,)” he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(And I must tell Sam to carry more… feminine necessities in the back of his shop.)” His voice dipped into a mildly scandalized tone, as if even the thought embarrassed him. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yes, yes, discretion will be of utmost importance. Can’t have the students knowing…)” He trailed off, clearing his throat as though to banish the thought entirely.

He lifted his cane—a long, ornate staff shaped like an elaborate key—and tapped it once against the floor. With a brief shimmer of light, a parchment unfurled midair, a hand-drawn map sketching itself into existence in neat, inky lines. Yuu leaned closer, watching as paths and buildings bloomed across the page like spreading veins.

Crowley pointed to a small shape near the lower right corner of the map. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(We are here,)” he said, his voice slipping back into that lofty, lecturing tone. “Ramshackle Dorm.”

Yuu blinked. The building’s position was so far from the rest of campus it was almost laughable—perched on the edge of the school grounds like an afterthought. Crowley traced a winding path from the dorm to a broader street cutting through the heart of the map.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(This,)” he said, tapping the line, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Main Street.(is Main Street.)” He mimed sweeping motions, then scribbled a time above it in looping script—8:00. Yuu nodded, happy that the numbers were the same as the ones back home.

Crowley’s gloved finger moved again, this time circling a building at the far end of the street. He added a small doodle of books beside it. “Library,” he said simply. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You may conduct your research there during your free hours—perhaps find a way back to your world, if the universe wills it.)”

She took the parchment, the faint scent of magic and parchment dust still clinging to it, and studied it briefly before folding it into neat thirds and slipping it into her back pocket.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Well then,)” Crowley said briskly, already gliding toward the doorway with his robes swishing behind him, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀--𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. Vanrouge 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(since that’s all settled, I’ll take my leave. We’ll reconvene in the morning—hopefully Mr. Vanrouge will have uncovered some texts regarding this little language barrier of ours.)” He gave a theatrical wave of his hand, his tone light and final. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Good night, now!)”

Yuu raised a brow but ultimately dismissed the matter—whatever Crowley was up to could hardly concern her now. He was probably off to bed, or wherever eccentric headmasters went after midnight. The night had grown heavy and still, the kind of quiet that hummed faintly in the ears. She let out a weary sigh, gathering the discarded broom and the neatly folded bundle of clothes before heading off in search of a place to sleep.

Her footsteps echoed softly across the creaking floorboards as she retraced her steps toward the dorm’s entrance hall. The flickering sconces along the corridor cast long, wavering shadows that crawled up the cracked wallpaper. She turned right, the boards groaning beneath her, then again at the next junction, entering the lounge area in front of the dorm bedrooms. A set of stairs sat in the middle of it, with a small room behind them.

Across from the staircase, she spotted the only door that hadn’t been entirely warped or opened to an inhabitable room when she first explored. Yuu pushed it open carefully, wincing at the faint groan of the hinges, trying not to stir up more of the gray dust motes that danced lazily through the air.

The room beyond looked like it might once have been cozy—centuries ago. A narrow fireplace sat at the far end of the wall, its grate clogged with soot, the mantel thick with grime. Above it hung a mirror so fogged and smudged she could barely see her own reflection. On either side of the hearth stood tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling, but they were boarded from the outside, the planks crooked and splintering with age. Moonlight filtered through the cracks, tracing faint silver lines across the floor.

A single bed sat against the right-hand wall, its frame tarnished and its mattress sagging. A small lamp clung precariously to the headboard, its shade stained yellow with time. Beside it stood a narrow nightstand, one of its legs uneven and propped up with a folded scrap of paper. In the center of the room, an old armchair sat draped under a dust-stiffened tarp, ghostly in the dim light. Cobwebs hung in the corners like delicate lace, and dust blanketed the floor so thickly that her footprints left clean paths through it.

Yuu sighed and rolled up her sleeves. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. She spent the next stretch of time sweeping as best she could, the broom scraping across the warped wood and sending up small clouds of dust. The air grew hazy and dry, and she coughed, waving her hand to clear it. After a while, she stood back, surveying her work. The room was far from pristine, but at least it no longer felt like breathing in an attic.

She dusted her hands off on her pants, satisfied enough, and stepped back into the hall. Her next stop was the room tucked beneath the stairs—one she remembered from her earlier exploration. If she was lucky, it was the bathroom.

Crossing her fingers, she muttered, “Please let the water still work,” under her breath. The electricity had been a surprise; running water would be an even bigger miracle.

At least she wouldn’t have to fight anyone for bathroom time here. Back home, it had been an unspoken battle every morning—her foster siblings racing to claim the shower first. If one of her foster sisters beat her to it, she’d have to wait nearly an hour, only to find the mirror fogged and the air thick with sticky humidity.

She opened the bathroom door slowly, bracing herself for the worst—mold, rot, maybe even something growing in the sink. Instead, she was greeted with… relative cleanliness. Dusty, yes, and clearly neglected, but not the disaster she’d expected. She blinked, pleasantly surprised. Maybe this dorm wasn’t as hopeless as it looked.

Then again, she hadn’t braved the upper floors yet. The staircase looked like it would collapse if she breathed on it wrong. Still, if she wanted a proper place to stay, she’d have to fix this dorm up herself. No magic shortcuts for her. Figures, she thought wryly. Back home, everything worth having came from hard work—or a good fight. Here, at least, she could stick to the first one. Maybe start fresh without needing to get her knuckles bloody.

She reached over to the wall and flicked the light switch. To her surprise, the bulb flickered weakly to life, casting the small room in a pale, yellow glow.

To her right sat a vintage toilet with a high-mounted tank and pull chain, its porcelain surprisingly white beneath the layer of age, though faint rings of mold clung just above the waterline. Beside it was an old sink, its basin mottled with dirt and rust stains, a cracked shelf hanging lopsided above it. The mirror was fractured, the largest shard reflecting a ghostly sliver of her face.

Across from the door stood a small clawfoot tub with an ancient showerhead dangling above it, both dust-coated but intact. To the left, near the doorway, sat a bulky metal furnace, so caked in grime it was nearly black. She made a mental note to clean it before ever lighting it—she didn’t fancy turning the dorm into a bonfire. Above it, a broken wooden cabinet clung stubbornly to the wall, its doors hanging crookedly from bent hinges, the shelves inside empty and warped.

She crossed her fingers as she padded over to the tub, her footsteps echoing faintly against the cracked tiles. Leaning over, she turned the shower handle, wincing as the pipes shuddered and groaned in protest—like some old creature stirring after a long sleep. A tremor ran through the walls, then came a coughing sputter, and a burst of brown, rust-flecked water spilled from the showerhead.

“C’mon, c’mon…” she muttered under her breath, tapping her foot impatiently as the water gurgled and spat. Seconds dragged into what felt like hours until, at last, the rusty tint faded, and clear water ran free. 

“Yes!” she cheered softly, a grin breaking across her face. She slipped her hand under the stream—warm. Blessedly warm. The tension in her shoulders melted as the heat seeped into her skin, a small, victorious thrill fluttering in her chest.

She didn’t have any soap or shampoo, but that didn’t matter. After a day caked in sweat and dust, even plain water felt like luxury. She began unbuttoning her shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly with fatigue. Just as she shrugged one shoulder free, the bathroom lights flickered.

A chill crawled up her spine.

The soft buzz of the fluorescent bulb cut out for a heartbeat, then returned—alongside the faint, echoing laughter she’d heard before. The ghosts.

The sound rippled through the room, playful yet cold, and before she could brace herself, a spectral shape burst through the closed bathroom door with a shriek.

She gasped and stumbled back, reacting on instinct. Her leg snapped out in a kick—and to her utter shock, her foot connected with something solid. The ghost yelped, tumbling backward, and she froze. 

She had fully expected her leg to go through the ghosts. Did that mean they could control when they could phase and when they couldn’t?

“Oh—sorry, or, uh…” she stammered, lowering her leg, her face crinkling in annoyance with herself. Why was she apologizing? They were the ones who decided to scare her half to death.

The ghost shook its head as though to clear it, its translucent form flickering faintly. Then it turned toward her, mouth open in what was clearly the start of another attempt to frighten her—until its gaze dropped.

She followed it down—and her stomach dropped.

Her shirt hung open, halfway off her shoulders, revealing her sports bra.

Her face burned crimson as she yanked her shirt back into place. Really? Even the ghosts here were pervs?

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Sorry!)” the ghost squeaked, its own pale face flushing blue as it threw its hands over its eyes. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 girl! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I didn’t know you were a girl! Sorry!)”

And with that, it shot straight through the door and vanished, leaving only a faint trail of mist behind.

She blinked after it, processing the words. Girl. So they’d thought she was a boy this whole time, too. With a weary sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt tired, grimy, and now mildly violated. The last thing she wanted was another ghostly encounter. She just wanted to wash off the day, eat the food Crowley had brought, crawl into bed, and hope that this was truly some realistic dream she could wake up from.

Her feet dragged beneath her, each step a desperate struggle through the swampy waters of the bayou. The water clung to her legs, thick and dark, rippling with each labored movement. It reached her waist now, cold and heavy as it seeped through her clothes, pulling at her like a living thing that wanted her to stay. The air was humid and sour, reeking of rot and stagnant decay. Mist hung low between the gnarled knees of bald cypress trees, their roots twisting like skeletal fingers beneath the surface. Cattails swayed without wind.

“Run, run, run away,” sang a chorus of childlike voices, their melody lilting and cruel. “Don’t come back another day.”

The sound echoed through the bayou, threading through the trees and curling around her like smoke. Yuu couldn’t tell where it came from—above her, beside her, beneath the water—but it pressed against her chest, made it harder to breathe. Her pulse thundered in her ears. The swamp water felt thicker now, clinging like ink, cold tendrils latching onto her skin, pulling, dragging.

“The only people who ever wanted you are gone now,” whispered a voice just behind her ear.

Yuu flinched and spun around, sending ripples and droplets scattering into the air. But there was no one—only the slow sway of the trees, the soft croak of unseen frogs. Then she saw it—saw her—through the gray mist.

Her mother.

She was tied to a cypress trunk by coarse ropes, her head slumped forward, wet hair plastered across her face. The sight stole the air from Yuu’s lungs.

“Mom!” Yuu shouted, voice cracking as she waded toward her, the water thickening with each frantic step. It felt like she was pushing through molasses now. Duckweed clung to her arms, her neck, her hair, matting against her skin as she fought to reach her.

Her trembling hands clawed at the ropes, slipping against the slick, rough fibers. The knots refused to give. Her fingers ached, shaking so hard she could barely hold on.

A low hiss echoed through the water. Then another.

Shapes began to drift closer—silent, dark forms gliding just beneath the surface. What she had thought were logs turned, eyes glinting amber in the dim light. Crocodiles. Dozens of them.

“Please!” Yuu cried, splashing wildly. “Go away! Please!”

But the water only rippled back her own reflection, warped and terrified. The crocs circled closer, the hiss of their breath mixing with the soft plop of bubbles breaking the surface.

And then—something surfaced besider her and her mother.

A body.

It rolled over in the murky water, pale skin torn and mottled, arms twisted and hacked off, legs bent and broken at impossible angles. Her father’s face drifted upward, eyes clouded and lifeless, mouth half open as if still trying to speak. Blood spread through the bayou in crimson tendrils, curling like smoke through the ink-black water.

“Run, run, run away,” the voices sang again, higher this time, mocking, gleeful.

Her mother’s head lifted. Her eyes were glassy, empty, her lips moving soundlessly before the voice that wasn’t hers spoke again:

“You’re all alone now. Don’t you like it that way?”

A sob tore from Yuu’s throat. She turned and ran—stumbling, splashing, choking on the thick air—away from the sight of her mother, away from the circling beasts and the echo of tearing flesh. Her mother’s screams cut through the air, wet and ragged, until they were drowned by the laughter of the voices.

The water deepened around her. The ground beneath her feet dissolved into mud, thick and sucking, holding her fast. Each step became heavier, slower. The water climbed to her chest, her neck, her chin. It was no longer just water—it was sludge and ash and something darker, coating her skin, seeping into her pores, dragging her down.

She gasped for air, but mud filled her mouth. It burned her throat. Panic clawed through her chest as she thrashed, flailing for the surface that kept slipping farther away.

Through the water, muffled and distorted, came the sound of fists hitting flesh. Her father’s shouts. Her mother’s cries. The pop of bone, the crack of a joint, the wet sound of tearing muscle.

She tried to scream, but the bayou swallowed the sound.

“Why should they listen to you?” the whisper returned, closer now, curling like smoke inside her mind. “Your words mean nothing.”

The weight of the swamp closed in. Sound dulled, vision blurred. The world shrank to the suffocating dark, the taste of iron and earth, and a single noise that echoed faintly through the blackness—

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She didn’t know if it was blood, or ink, or water. She didn’t care. It was endless.

Drip. Drip. Drip–

Yuu jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright as if she’d been dragged out of deep water. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a phantom ache left over from the dream. Cold beads of sweat clung to her forehead, her hair damp and plastered to her skin. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was still in the swamp—if the thick, suffocating darkness had followed her back.

Then something cold splattered against her cheek.

She flinched, blinking rapidly before squeezing her eyes shut again. Another droplet hit her skin, trailing down to her jaw. Slowly, she cracked an eye open, her vision adjusting to the dim morning light that filtered through the threadbare curtains and boarded windows.

A small, dark spot stained the ceiling above her. Rainwater. It gathered at the edge of a warped plank before releasing another cold drip that splashed against her blanket.

Yuu exhaled shakily, her shoulders relaxing as the remnants of the nightmare slipped away, though not entirely. The sound of the steady dripping filled the silence—soft, rhythmic, too much like the echo that had haunted her dream.

She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm and groaned, forcing herself to sit fully upright. Her muscles felt heavy, her throat raw, as if she’d been screaming in her sleep.

The ceiling leak was old, she realized, a leftover problem from the storm last night. She’d need to fix it—like so many other things in this abandoned dorm. Now the slow, persistent drip had become just one more irritation to start her day with.

Yuu swung her legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floorboards groaning in protest beneath her bare feet. The air was damp and cool, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and old wood. She wrapped her arms loosely around herself, rubbing her elbows as a strange heaviness settled deep in her chest.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It wasn’t just the lingering fear from the nightmare.

It was something quieter. Unease. Sadness. That strange hollow feeling of being alone.

Homesick, she realized, the word surfacing unbidden.

The thought almost made her laugh—a dry, humorless sound that never fully left her throat. Homesick. The irony of it stung. She’d spent most of her life running from every place that ever tried to call itself home. She was the girl who slipped out the window or backdoor, who packed a bag before anyone could stop her. The caseworkers had a name for it—flight risk.

She supposed they weren’t wrong.

But eventually, the running had stopped. Not because she’d found somewhere she wanted to stay, but because she’d grown tired of starting over. Instead of escaping, she just… drifted. Spent hours wandering streets, bus stops, underground fighting rings—anywhere that wasn’t the house she was supposed to sleep in.

Yuu wondered if anyone noticed she was gone now.

Maybe her foster siblings had looked for her the first few times, poked their heads out the window or whispered her name into the dark. Maybe her foster parents had worried, too—at least until the panic faded into frustration, then into indifference.

Now, she wasn’t sure anyone would care that she left again–whether by choice or not. It would only be a few more years until she aged out anyway.

The thought left a hollow ache in her chest, deeper than before. She pressed her hand to it as if she could quiet the feeling, but all she found was the faint echo of her heartbeat.

A soft knock, knock, knock pulled Yuu from her thoughts. The sound was hesitant, almost sheepish—like whoever stood outside wasn’t sure they wanted to be heard at all. She blinked toward the crooked door of Ramshackle dorm. 

“Hello?” she called, her voice rough, the edges of drowsiness still weighing down each syllable.

No answer came. The door didn’t creak open, no hinges groaned. Instead, three translucent shapes drifted right through the wood as though it were mist. The ghosts she’d met before—her peculiar roommates—hovered in the stale morning air, their forms faintly glowing in the light filtering through the cracked window.

In one of their hands, a clock dangled by its brass ring. Another clutched the folded map Crowley had given her of the school grounds. The largest of the three tapped the clock twice, a grin stretching across his pale, half-faded face, before dropping the map neatly onto her lap.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You should get ready,)” one of them intoned, his voice an airy echo that seemed to hum against the walls. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(It’s about time for you to start cleaning the school.)”

Their smiles were a little too wide, their eyes hollow yet oddly playful—But Yuu didn’t sense any malice behind them.

Before she could answer, they began to twirl about the room in lazy spirals, a swirl of mist and faint laughter, stirring the dust that lingered in the air. Then, just as suddenly, they filed out through the door like they had previously entered.

Yuu sat in silence for a moment, blinking at the map on her lap and the ticking clock in her hands. The hands pointed toward seven forty-five. The faint ticking echoed softly, somehow louder in the emptiness of her room.

She ran her fingers over the worn paper of the map, tracing the faint ink that marked paths and buildings she barely recognized. Her brow furrowed. How do they even carry things if they’re ghosts? she wondered absently, watching a droplet of water fall from the ceiling and splatter near her foot.

But the question faded as quickly as it came. Magic, she decided. It was as good an explanation as any in this strange world. Maybe they’d felt bad about how things had gone last night—this could’ve been their awkward way of apologizing. The thought made her lips twitch into a small smile.

Setting the clock aside, Yuu stretched and stood, the floorboards beneath her feet groaning in tired protest. The morning light spilling through the window was weak and pale, catching in the dust that floated lazily through the air.

She pulled the black school-issued jumpsuit from the foot of her bed and slipped it on over her boxer shorts and t-shirt. The fabric was soft, and though it hung loose on her frame—at least a size too big—she didn’t mind. It gave her more room to move and breathe. She fastened the zipper up until the middle of her chest, adjusting the collar before stepping out of the room.

𓅨

Yuu couldn’t help but stare at the statues lining Main Street. The morning light slanted through drifting clouds, painting the stone figures with a pale golden glow. She blinked, the wooden handle of her ladder biting into her shoulder as she adjusted her grip on the bucket and brushes cradled in her other arm. Seven statues stood in a solemn procession down the cobblestone street—four on one side, three on the other—each frozen mid-command or smirk, as though caught between grandeur and menace.

The nearest one loomed to her left, the figure immediately familiar.

 The Queen of Hearts.

A Disney character—here, carved in cold stone. The details were uncanny: the smirking curl of her lips, the sharp fan of her collar, the roses gathered at her feet. Yuu stepped closer, breath catching. Beside the Queen stood two others: Ursula, tentacles swirling around the pedestal, contract in hand, and Scar, proud grin as he towered above, King of the Beasts. Across the street, she spotted Hades, his stone flames curling upward; Maleficent with her horns; Jafar, wielding a cobra staff; and finally, the Evil Queen herself, holding a poisoned apple as if waiting to offer it to some unseen prey.

A chill skated down Yuu’s spine.

This world she had landed in… were these villains its rulers? Did they exist here as real people, or were they legends, worshiped like gods? Her pulse quickened as yesterday’s image resurfaced—the mirror, the Magic Mirror from Snow White. How had she not realized it sooner? Everything here seemed built from the bones of Disney’s stories.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You’re staring like you don’t know who that is,)” a voice interrupted, making Yuu jump. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Have you never seen the Queen of Hearts?)”

She turned, startled, to find two boys standing nearby. Both were roughly her height—maybe an inch or two taller—carrying themselves with an easy confidence. The first had fluffy orange hair and a red marking shaped like a heart over his left eye; his grin was energetic yet carefree. The second had short, dark navy-blue hair, neatly combed, and eyes a bright cyan with a black spade marking over his right eye.

Their uniforms were the same cut as the one Yuu was given—a crisp three-piece suit—but while her vest was charcoal gray, theirs were crimson. Matching armbands and a golden, red and black, heart shaped crest on their sleeves marked them as belonging to some dorm or house she didn’t yet understand.

Yuu raised her arm, pointing toward the Queen of Hearts statue, head tilted in curiosity. She wanted to hear what they called her here—to learn this world’s word for the Queen she recognized.

“Queen of Hearts,” the red-haired boy repeated, following her gesture. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(She’s the queen who lived in the rose maze once upon a time.)”

Yuu blinked, trying to catch the rhythm of his speech. She recognized the name, but the rest of his words blurred together in unfamiliar syllables. “Yeah,” she muttered, “I didn’t catch anything you said.”

The two boys exchanged a glance. The redhead’s expression lit up in realization, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(Hey, you’re the guy who doesn’t have magic, right?!)” he said, pointing at her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What happened to your eye? Did you already get beaten up?)”

Yuu blinked, confused until she felt the boy’s gesture lead her hand to her cheek. Her fingers brushed the bruise along her cheekbone—dull and tender. She winced. She’d nearly forgotten about it.

“Hm.” She hummed softly, not bothering to answer his question with her very limited vocabulary. Yuu pointed to herself, trying to recall the right word. “My… name is Yuu.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Pleased to meet you,)” said the boy with the dark hair, his voice more polite, measured. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 name 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Deuce Spade.(My name is Deuce Spade.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 name's Ace!(The name’s Ace!)” the redhead chimed in, grinning as he nudged her playfully. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I can’t believe the Dark Mirror summoned you here, but you can’t use magic?! Let alone speak the common tongue!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Don’t be rude!)” Deuce snapped, frowning at his companion. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You’ve only just met.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Relax,)” Ace laughed, waving it off. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Yuu 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(I’m sure Yuu wasn’t offended, right?)”

Yuu stared blankly at him, unsure what part of that was meant to be friendly or insulting as she watched their two differing expressions. Their words washed over her like water, tone and rhythm betraying hints of amusement she couldn’t decipher. 

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I don’t think he even knows what you’re saying,)” Deuce said under his breath, noting Yuu’s expression. He cleared his throat and pointed toward the distant castle-like school that loomed over the horizon. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Night Raven College 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Are you attending Night Raven College as a student?)” he asked slowly, gesturing to his uniform, then to her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Or…)” He pointed toward the bucket and ladder she had set down before the statue. “...𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(…are you acting as a janitor?)”

“Oh, I’m cleaning,” Yuu said, pointing to the bucket and brushes at her feet before gesturing to the line of statues glinting in the sunlight. “Yeah, I’m not a student here.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Man, they’ve got you working as a janitor!)” Ace laughed, his voice loud and teasing as he snickered behind his hand. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—(Maybe they’ll get that monster to work as a janitor here too—)”

A sharp yeowl cut through his words.

Something gray and fast streaked through the air before landing squarely on Ace’s head, using his hair as a springboard to vault upward. The creature landed atop the Queen of Hearts statue with feline grace, tail flicking smugly.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You’ll never find me doing odd jobs!)” the cat declared, puffing out his chest.

Yuu blinked up at him, a spark of recognition lighting in her eyes. She pointed. “That’s the weird cat from yesterday.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀' 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Oi, why do you keep talkin’ in gibberish!)” the cat snapped, smacking Yuu’s head with his paw like an irritated child.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s the tanuki from yesterday!)” Ace barked, pointing accusingly at the cat.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 name 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(My name is Grim!)” the cat howled, fur bristling as his tail lashed behind him. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(And don’t you forget it!)”

Yuu turned toward the boys as the argument quickly unraveled, her expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She jabbed her finger toward Grim again, glancing between Deuce and Ace. “What’s his name?”

Deuce blinked for a second, then seemed to catch on. “Name...? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Name…? Oh.)” He pointed toward the cat. “Grim.”

Before Yuu could repeat it, Deuce’s polite expression twisted into irritation. He grabbed Ace by the arm, pulling him back with surprising strength.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Hey,)” Deuce scolded, his brows furrowed. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You need to stop being rude. There’s a thing called tact, ya know.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Are you lecturing me?)” Ace scoffed, yanking his arm free, his grin fading into a scowl. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(’Cause that’s kinda super annoying.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(You need to understand that people have feelings,)” Deuce huffed, exasperation dripping from every syllable.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yeah, whatever,)” Ace sighed, crossing his arms behind his head as he turned away. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I’m outta here. I’ve got class.)”

Yuu stood awkwardly in the middle of the street, her bucket still in hand, watching them like an audience to a play she didn’t understand. The way the two bickered—it was almost domestic, like a married couple arguing over nothing.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Sorry,)” Deuce said at last, glancing back toward her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I’d better go too.)”

She nodded, waving an uncertain goodbye as the two started down the stone street toward the distant academy gates.

Only Grim remained, fur still bristling, his blue eyes narrowed into slits. His teeth flashed in a snarl as he glared at Ace’s retreating back.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(That jerk…)” he muttered, tail thrashing, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(thinks he can talk to me like that…)”

Yuu’s eyes widened—the faint shimmer of heat rising from Grim’s fur, the way his chest expanded, the tiny spark forming in his mouth—it was all too familiar.

“Hey!” she hissed, lunging forward just as the cat inhaled sharply. She scooped him up—nearly dropping him in surprise at his unexpected weight—and pointed his snout skyward.

A burst of blue fire erupted from Grim’s mouth, searing the air above them. The flames missed Ace and Deuce’s heads by barely a foot, but the wave of heat still swept across their backs.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Hey! Watch it!)” Ace yelled, spinning on his heel, face flushed. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!?(What do you think you’re doing!?)”

Grim squirmed wildly in Yuu’s arms, claws snagging her exposed arms, enough to draw pinpricks of blood. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(That’s what you get for making fun of me!)” he spat, slipping free with a furious kick. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I’ll give your hair a real reason to look like it was in an explosion!)”

Whatever he said seemed to strike a nerve. Ace’s grin dropped, replaced by a sharp-edged challenge.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Oh, you’ve got guts, furball!)” he growled, whipping a sleek black pen from his pocket. A gust of wind spiraled around him in a rush of invisible force, the trees behind the statues trembling.

“Stop!” Yuu shouted, shielding her face as dust kicked up around them. “Stop fighting!” Her voice cracked in frustration—she didn’t even know why they were fighting, but she was sure it was stupid.

The commotion drew attention fast. Students in matching uniforms began gathering, whispering, laughing, forming a loose circle around them. Their voices buzzed in curiosity, rising and falling like a tide.

Yuu clicked her tongue, teeth gritted as she stepped between them, but neither boy nor cat seemed to hear her. Grim’s flames flared brighter, blue tongues licking through the air, while Ace’s wind magic surged in reply, roaring like a storm contained in a bottle.

Deuce’s voice joined hers somewhere in the chaos, trying to shout them down, but both his and Yuu’s protests were drowned out by the hiss of fire and the howl of wind—two tempers colliding in the heart of a crowded street.

The shouting had gone on long enough. Yuu’s patience, already thin, finally snapped.

The moment she spotted an opening between Grim’s fire and Ace’s retort, she moved. Her fist shot forward, striking Ace squarely in the gut. The impact landed with a satisfying thud, the air whooshing out of his lungs as he doubled over, eyes wide and wheezing.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—(Wha—)” he croaked, clutching his stomach—just as a massive iron cauldron materialized out of thin air above him and crashed down with a reverberating clang.

Dust and magic shimmer burst outward, and for a moment, Ace disappeared beneath the heavy pot. Grim’s wheezing laughter echoed around the square, feeding the fire flickering in Ace’s furious glare.

Yuu blinked, frozen where she stood. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing. The cauldron was real—the dents in the stone path proved it. 

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, Yuu!(Stay out of this, Juice! You too, Yuu!)” Ace’s muffled voice came from under the rim of the cauldron, strained but defiant.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Deuce!(It’s Deuce!)” came the immediate, indignant correction. Deuce stomped a foot, his voice rising in frustration. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(With a D!)”

The two devolved right back into arguing, completely ignoring the rising tide of laughter, gasps, and gossip rippling through the growing circle of students. The air buzzed with amusement and disbelief, the crowd murmuring like an audience watching a street performance spiral out of control.

Yuu’s eyes darted toward Grim. The cat was smirking again—no, grinning—his sharp teeth gleaming as he inhaled deeply, blue fire flickering in his throat.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Yuu muttered, a curse slipping out under her breath. She lunged forward, grabbing Ace by the arm. He was heavier than she expected, still half-winded from the punch, but she dug her heel into the cobblestones and heaved, using her leg for leverage. The cauldron groaned, tipping just enough for Ace to roll free.

“Stop arguing!” she snapped, her voice sharp with exasperation.

Ace barely had time to gasp for breath before he twisted around, wand—no, pen—already raised. A sharp burst of wind magic surged forth, scattering dirt and sparks into the air. The gust hit just in time to redirect Grim’s blue flames, saving Ace’s singed hair by mere inches.

Unfortunately, the redirected fire didn’t vanish, it veered off course.

Yuu’s head whipped around as the crowd shrieked and scattered, parting like water as the flames roared past. The heat licked her face, searingly close, before the inferno struck its new target—

—the Queen of Hearts.

The statue blackened instantly, smoke curling upward from the scorched stone. The once-regal face now bore a streak of soot across its cheek, like a scar carved by fire.

For a heartbeat, the entire street went silent. The crowd stared. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.

Then came the low, horrified murmur of voices, rippling through the students like a wave.

She could clean the statue later. Right now, the chaos needed to stop.

While the crowd’s attention was still fixed on the smoldering Queen of Hearts and Grim’s smug victory pose, Yuu acted. She lunged forward, catching the cat mid-gloat. He yowled in protest, claws flailing, but she held him fast—arms locked, holding him out at arm’s length like one might handle a dangerous, wriggling doll.

“Dude, I don’t know what your deal is,” she said, exasperation dripping from every word, “but stop spitting flames everywhere.”

With a quick flick of her wrist, she tapped him lightly on the snout.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—!(Oi! Put me down—!)” Grim sputtered, tail lashing furiously, ears pinned flat.

But before Yuu could retort, a cold, commanding voice sliced through the air like a blade.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(I came to see what all this ruckus was about…)”

Crowley’s voice.

The sound alone made Yuu stiffen—but Ace and Deuce reacted like soldiers caught mid-crime. Both boys froze, their earlier bravado instantly draining away. Ace’s grin vanished, and Deuce straightened as though posture alone might save him. Slowly, almost mechanically, they turned to face the figure behind them.

The Headmage of Night Raven College stood tall at the edge of the circle, his black-feathered cloak rippling in the faint wind. His mask gleamed in the late light, and though his face was hidden, his eyes burned with visible fury—twin embers under gold-trimmed shadow.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Uh…)” Ace stammered, his voice trembling. “𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(H–Headmage…)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀.(I. Don’t. Believe this.)”

Crowley’s voice was low, controlled—but each word hit like thunder. His gaze swept over the four of them: Ace still winded, Deuce stiff with guilt, Grim trembling in Yuu’s grip, and Yuu herself unsure of what was taking place.

Even Grim, usually full of noise and attitude, had gone perfectly still, his blue eyes wide. Not even a mewl of protest escaped him.

Crowley’s cane struck the stone with a sharp crack. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!?(What in the world do you think you’re doing!?)”

His voice rose, echoing down the street, sharp enough to slice through the murmuring crowd. Deuce flinched. Ace winced. Yuu instinctively took a half step back, eyes narrowing as if watching for an attack.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Turning a statue of one of the Great Seven into cinders!)” The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with disbelief and outrage. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You have committed blasphemy against our great forebearers!)” Crowley thundered, wings of his cloak flaring dramatically as he raised his staff. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I cannot—will not—let this deed go unpunished!)”

He slammed the base of his staff into the ground. The sound cracked like a lightning strike.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You are all expelled! Effective immediately!)”

The crowd erupted in a collective gasp. Whispers rippled outward—some shocked, others gleefully scandalized. Ace’s face went pale, mouth open, but no sound came out. Deuce looked as though his entire world had tilted off its axis.

Yuu glanced between them, then back at the furious Headmage, confusion twisting in her gut.  Judging by the horrified looks around her, she had clearly missed something very important.

Chapter Text

She didn’t know what was happening—didn’t understand what was happening—but that was becoming a familiar feeling. Ever since she’d been dropped into this strange world, confusion had clung to her like a second skin. And it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours yet.

Now she was being half-dragged, half-pulled down a long corridor by Deuce, Grim tucked awkwardly under one arm like a squirming stuffed animal, while Ace trailed behind them. Deuce had been pleading with that crow-masked headmaster, and whatever he said must’ve worked, because the man actually seemed somewhat pleased when they left. Unfortunately, that also meant Yuu had somehow been volunteered for whatever mess they’d gotten themselves into, despite the fact that she’d only been trying to clean statues.

She let out a long, irritated huff. She seemed to have the worst case of wrong place, wrong time.

It didn’t help that all three of them were talking at once, their voices overlapping into a jumble of foreign words she couldn’t hope to decipher. They gestured wildly as if that would help, tone rising and falling with urgency. She could pick up on emotion, at least—panic, frustration—but not a single shred of meaning.

By the time they reached the grand hall with the Magic Mirror—the same place where she’d first arrived—her patience had finally snapped. The mirror loomed at the far end of the room, its surface glimmering like liquid silver under the cold torchlight. Yuu yanked her arm free from Deuce’s grasp and planted her feet firmly on the polished floor.

That was when Ace, who hadn’t been paying attention, crashed right into her back. She stumbled forward a step, catching herself on the benches before spinning around to glare daggers at him.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(C’mon!)” Ace barked, giving her a light push, trying to encourage her to continue walking. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(If we don’t get that stone, we’re all expelled! That means you get kicked out with no place to go!)”

Yuu threw her hands up. “I don’t know what you’re saying!” she snapped, her voice echoing faintly off the tall walls. “I have no idea what’s happening, why you’re dragging me around, or why this is somehow my problem—but someone better explain it before I just turn around and leave.”

Grim wriggled furiously in her arms, little claws batting at her forearm. The hits felt more like an irritated cat trying to make a point than any real attempt to escape.

 “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Come on! Hench-human, this is my chance to get into the school!)” he whined, his tail thrashing. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Don’t ruin it because you speak gibberish!)”

Deuce sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. He glanced at Ace, and something silent passed between them. Then, with resigned determination, they both turned toward her.

What followed could only be described as the most chaotic, exhausting game of charades she had ever witnessed.

Deuce flailed his arms dramatically while Ace mimed drowning—or maybe swimming?—before suddenly collapsing to the floor as if dead. Grim leapt out of her arms to act out something equally nonsensical, puffing up his fur and pretending to breathe fire at Ace’s face, who screamed and pretended to melt. Yuu could only stand there, utterly baffled.

Someone’s drowning… no, eating? she thought. Wait, no—that’s Crowley. Definitely Crowley.

After what felt like thirty long minutes of overacting and failed interpretation, she pieced together the general idea: if they didn’t find some mysterious object—something involving water, maybe a pool or a fountain—they’d all be expelled. Including her, for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom.

Grim collapsed onto his back, panting. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(Do ya get it yet?!)” he wheezed.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Please don’t make us do that again,)” Ace groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Yuu tilted her head, replaying the chaotic pantomime in her mind before giving a small nod. “I think I get it, yeah,” she said, offering a thumbs-up.

All three boys froze, exchanged looks, then collectively cheered. Ace fist-pumped the air while Deuce whooped in relief. Before she could protest again, they grabbed her by the arms and began dragging her toward the next disaster waiting to happen.

𓅨

Dirt crunched beneath her boots, the faint echo of each step swallowed by the thick quiet of the forest. The trees loomed tall and skeletal, their branches whispering as the wind threaded through them. Overhead, clouds smothered the sun, leaving the world steeped in a dim, gray hush. Even the air felt heavy—damp and cool, tinged with the earthy scent of moss and soil.

Grim perched comfortably on Yuu’s shoulders, his tail flicking lazily against her neck. He seemed perfectly content with his elevated position—perhaps because it finally put him at eye level with the others. Yuu, however, frowned faintly as she scanned their surroundings. There wasn’t a stream or pond in sight, no glimmer of reflected light or hint of running water. Weren’t they going somewhere with water?

She followed close behind Deuce as he picked his way down the stony hill, the uneven terrain forcing them to move carefully. Pebbles skittered beneath their feet, and every rustle of undergrowth made Yuu’s pulse jump. The forest was too still—every sound they made seemed too loud.

“Where are we?” she murmured under her breath, not really expecting an answer.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀( Oi, henchman,)” Grim piped up suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet. His wide grin revealed sharp teeth as he puffed his chest out. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀: Grim 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!( Repeat after me: Grim is almighty and the best mage there is!)”

Yuu blinked at him, her lips twitching. Without replying, she reached up and scratched the top of his head. His fur was softer than it looked, smooth under her fingertips, and the blue flames flickering from his ears cast a ghostly light that radiated no warmth. Grim’s grin faltered into a pout, his ears flattening as he muttered something under his breath.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Don’t go teaching him weird phrases,)” Ace called over his shoulder, flashing a grin as he started walking backward to face her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀: Ace 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Grim's 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Try this instead—repeat after me: Ace is amazing and Grim’s a stinky tanuki who got us into this mess in the first place.)”

Yuu tilted her head, not entirely following the banter, but the sudden spark of irritation in Grim’s expression told her enough.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(What happened to not teaching him weird phrases?!)” Grim snapped, puffing up indignantly.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Enough!)” Deuce barked, his patience finally snapping as he planted his hands on his hips. His expression was half exasperation, half authority as he turned to Yuu. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀: Deuce 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Repeat after me: Deuce is the best student and mage.)” He placed a hand firmly on her shoulder, ignoring the way her eyebrow arched in disbelief and confusion.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You’re just as bad as us!)” Ace huffed, face contorting in mock outrage.

Yuu let out a long, weary sigh. Whatever this argument had started as, it had clearly devolved into nonsense. Grim’s voice suddenly rose in a sharp, nasally yell right beside her ear, making her wince. She could practically feel the vibration in her skull.

“Stop yelling,” she complained, reaching out to push Ace and Deuce apart by their faces. Both sputtered indignantly, swatting her hands away like annoyed cats. Grim’s snickering only made her roll her eyes.

“And you—stop egging them on,” Yuu said, turning her head to glare at the furball draped across her shoulders. She flicked his ear lightly.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Hey!)” Grim yelped, rubbing the spot and glaring at her.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(There’s a cottage back here,)” Ace called, pushing aside a tangle of brush that had nearly swallowed the narrow path.

Yuu stepped up beside him, peering over his shoulder. Through the gaps in the foliage, a small cottage emerged from the undergrowth like something long forgotten. The dirt path leading to it was nearly overtaken by weeds, and moss crept along the crumbling brick walls. The paint—once white, maybe—had faded to a dull gray, flaking away to reveal the bare wood beneath. Gaps yawned in the roof where tiles had fallen, leaving the structure with a tired, hollow look.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Let’s see if we can ask for information,)” Deuce said, determination firm in his tone as he moved ahead.

Yuu followed after him, Ace and Grim trailing behind. The air here felt heavier, colder—a faint, creeping chill that clung to the edges of her clothes and skin. Yet despite the decay, the area held a strange sort of charm.

They crossed a tiny wooden bridge arched over an even tinier creek, one so narrow she could have stepped over it. The boards of the bridge groaned under her weight, the sound sharp against the gentle murmur of running water. Yuu slowed, drawn to the way the stream rippled over smooth, dark stones, sunlight slipping through the clouds just enough to glint off the surface.

She crouched, dipping her hand into the water. It was startlingly cold, a crisp bite that made her fingers sting. The current brushed past like liquid glass, clear enough to see her reflection wavering beneath it. Her gaze caught on the bruise darkening her cheekbone—a deep violet shadow she hadn’t realized looked that bad. She touched it gingerly and hissed, immediately regretting it.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(How’d you even get that?)” Grim asked, his blue flames flickering in the reflection of the stream. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I didn’t see it yesterday at orientation.)”

Yuu only hummed in reply, brushing off her hand on her pants and standing. “I still have no clue what you’re saying, bud.”

By the time she caught up, Ace and Deuce had already slipped through the doorway. Yuu pushed open the weathered door, the hinges letting out a long, aching creak. She peeked inside—and froze.

Her breath caught in her throat as familiarity struck her like a jolt. The low ceilings, the tiny windows, the wooden furniture carved with simple patterns—it all looked like something from a storybook.

“Snow White’s cottage,” she breathed, stepping inside.

Dust motes swirled in the air as she brushed her fingers over the window sill. The wood felt rough and cold beneath the layer of grime. For a moment, she didn’t know what to feel—wonder, disbelief, maybe even unease. She was standing in a fairytale made real, in a place that shouldn’t exist outside of ink and animation cels.

The cottage looked as though it had been abandoned in haste. A few chairs at the squat dining table were overturned, one leg snapped clean off another. A melted candle sat crooked in a tarnished holder beside an old iron pot, its contents long gone but the soot still clinging to its rim. A faint smell of dust and damp lingered in the air, laced with the faint sweetness of decaying wood.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I guess it’s been abandoned,)” Deuce said, glancing around the dim room. Yuu watched him, noting the blank look in his eyes—and Ace’s faint boredom—as they examined their surroundings. If the Evil Queen’s likeness was carved into the very statue on school grounds, shouldn’t they recognize this place?

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Is it me,)” Ace muttered, counting the chairs under his breath, crouching beside the miniature table, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(or are all these tables and chairs, like… really small? Maybe they’re for children?)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(This must’ve been quite a lively place when the mine was still running,)” Deuce mused, running a hand over a dusty mantel.

Yuu scanned the room again but saw nothing of value—just remnants of a life frozen mid-motion. Whatever they were hoping to find here, she couldn’t imagine it being among the cobwebs and splintered furniture. Her shoulder throbbed with a dull ache, reminding her of the extra weight it had been carrying.

With a soft sigh, she reached up and plucked Grim from her shoulder, hugging him to her chest like a stuffed animal. He grunted at the movement, apparently unbothered by the change, his tail flicking lazily around her arm.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Why not look for the magestone in the mine?)” Grim scoffed, gesturing with a paw towards the window.

Yuu followed his gaze. Beyond the open window, the forest stretched out into a foggy gray distance, where a jagged line of hills rose in the background. Nestled at their base, half-shrouded by mist, she could just make out the dark mouth of a tunnel yawning open—a mine. Even from here, it looked cold and foreboding.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(But I heard the mine was closed,)” Deuce said, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet cottage. He dropped the small, dusty shoe he’d fished from an old pot and turned toward Yuu and Grim. It hit the wooden floor with a hollow thunk, stirring up a puff of dust.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yeah, I agree with the tanuki,)” Ace drawled, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the table. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Let’s just go to the mine.)”

Deuce frowned. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(It’s going to be pitch black inside.)” His eyes drifted toward the stub of a candle resting crookedly on the table. After a moment’s thought, he picked it up and smiled. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Perfect. We can borrow this candle.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(There’s nothing to light it with, though,)” Ace pointed out, shrugging.

Yuu tilted her head slightly, watching the two exchange ideas. They looked so confident, yet the simplest problem—light—had stumped them. She turned her gaze toward the window again. The light outside had already begun to fade, the forest now cast in shades of gray and silver. Maybe they really did need that candle.

“Why not just use magic?” Yuu suggested, gesturing first toward the candle, then to the fountain pens tucked neatly into the breast pockets of their uniforms. She’d seen them use those pens to cast spells before—surely lighting a candle couldn’t be that hard.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Magic isn’t all-powerful,)” Deuce replied, shaking his head. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before glancing sheepishly at her. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Uh… this is going to be hard to explain with the whole language barrier thing.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yeah, I don’t feel like doing the whole charades routine right now,)” Ace said with a laugh, waving his hand dismissively.

Yuu furrowed her brows, confused by the excuse. Why couldn't they just light it? With a sigh, she held out Grim, his snout hovered just inches from the candlewick.

“Grim can light it on fire, right?” she said. “He spat flames before.”

Grim’s grin spread wide and smug. He crossed his little arms, tail curling like smoke behind him. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Sounds like you need someone like me—someone who can use fire magic.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(C’mon, just light the candle already,)” Ace huffed, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently.

Yuu frowned at the cat. “Hey, Grim—come on. Use your magic.”

Grim gave a theatrical sigh, closing his eyes as though deeply moved. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 'Grim, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!' 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I’m gonna guess that means, ‘Grim, you’re so amazing and strong! Please light the candle!’ in that gibberish language of yours!)” he said, laughing. Then he inhaled sharply, his chest puffing out. 

A moment later, a flicker of blue flame burst from his mouth, curling around the candlewick. The flame caught instantly, a tiny golden light blooming in the dim cottage.

Grim smirked, jumping from Yuu’s arms, walking out of the cottage with a raised paw, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 boys 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I’m in charge now! You boys follow my lead!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(That saves us the trouble of finding the entrance,)” Ace grinned, happy to follow the cat despite how easily the two argued. 

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Let’s go,)” Deuce nodded, leaving the cottage.

It wasn’t a long walk to the mines—barely a few minutes—but the air grew noticeably colder the closer they drew. The forest gave way to a clearing of stone and gravel, the earth hollowing out before them into a dark, gaping entrance framed by rotting support beams and creeping moss. Yuu hesitated at the threshold, the air inside thick with the scent of damp earth and rust. The candle’s tiny flame flickered weakly against the darkness, casting long, quivering shadows on the rough stone walls.

Ace and Deuce immediately got to work, crouching near the tunnel’s entrance as they rummaged through loose stones. Their candlelight bobbed faintly with their movements, barely illuminating more than a few feet ahead. Each sound—the scrape of rock, the scuff of shoes, the faint echo of a muttered complaint—reverberated down the tunnel and came back distorted, like whispers from deep within the mine.

Even Grim had joined in, his small paws gripping a discarded pickaxe he’d found leaning against the wall. The handle was splintered and worn smooth from use. He swung it lazily, the metallic clink of the head striking stone echoing through the hollow space. Occasionally, he bent down to inspect a fragment, squinting before huffing and tossing it aside.

Yuu watched them for a moment before realization dawned. Her mind flashed back to the gestures Ace and Deuce had made earlier—the rhythmic swing of their arms, the mimed digging motion. Not swimming. Mining. She blinked, feeling a touch of embarrassment warm her cheeks. So that’s what they’d meant—they were supposed to find some kind of special stone before they got expelled.

Determined, Yuu crouched beside a pile of rubble, running her fingers through the cold, gritty mix of dirt and rock. Her nails scraped against rough stone until something glinted faintly beneath the candlelight. She pried it loose—a small gem with streaks of green.

She stood and held it up. “Is this it?”

Deuce looked up from where he was sifting through debris, the dim light catching the smudge of dust on his cheek. “No,” he said flatly, but not unkind, returning to his search.

Yuu frowned, tossing the gem aside and immediately picking up another—a duller, grayish stone with faint veins of purple. “This?”

“No.”

“What about this one?”

“No.”

“This one—”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Stop picking up random stones!)” Ace shouted, his voice bouncing sharply off the cavern walls.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” Yuu snapped, frustration edging into her voice.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(All I see are dumb stones!)” Grim complained, tossing the pickaxe aside with a metallic clang. He sat down heavily, holding his paws up and grimacing. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(My poor paws are killing me!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Maybe they really did use up all the magestones,)” Ace muttered, examining a rock before tossing it away and stretching his back with a groan.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Look harder!)” Deuce barked, shoving another pile of stones aside.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I’d appreciate it if you didn’t act like you’re the boss of me,)” Ace shot back, giving him a sideways glare.

Their voices rose, overlapping—snaps, sighs, and insults tumbling over each other. Grim joined in just to argue, his shrill tone ricocheting off the mine’s walls until Yuu could barely hear herself think. The whole cavern seemed to hum with their voices, every echo stretching and warping until it was impossible to tell who had spoken first.

Yuu exhaled heavily, brushing the dust from her palms. She tuned them out, her eyes wandering toward the deeper parts of the mine. Beyond the reach of the candlelight, the tunnel stretched into impenetrable blackness.

“...𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(…Have it…)”

The voice was faint, low, almost swallowed by the echo of their arguing. Yuu froze, her heart skipping. Slowly, she turned her head toward the darkness.

Had someone spoken?

Or had it just been the echoes of Ace, Deuce, and Grim—twisted into something else by the mine’s hollow throat?

Yuu’s fingers closed around the handle of the discarded pickaxe, the wood cool and gritty beneath her touch. Her eyes never left the tunnel’s yawning dark. The candlelight barely reached past a few feet—beyond that, there was nothing but endless black. She rose slowly, muscles tense, the faint scrape of her boots against gravel echoing louder than she intended.

“You guys hear that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Huh?)” Ace turned, the three freezing mid-argument. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What’d you say?)”

Yuu jutted her chin toward the darkness, her grip tightening on the pickaxe. “I heard something.”

Deuce followed her gaze, squinting into the pitch. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Do you… see someone? This mine’s deserted,)” he said uncertainly. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(It’s probably nothing.)”

Before Yuu could answer, the sound came again—low, warped, and distant.

“...𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(…have it… it…)”

The voice crawled through the tunnel, warped by the echoes until it barely sounded human. The words slithered against the stone walls, soft yet heavy enough to send a chill up Yuu’s spine.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim went rigid. The color drained from their faces, the earlier noise of their bickering replaced by suffocating silence. Grim’s blue flames flickered erratically as his ears twitched. He looked utterly terrified.

Without another word, he bolted, scurrying ahead and pressing himself against one of the wooden support beams, his small body trembling as he ducked behind it.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Come on!)” Ace hissed, grabbing Yuu’s hand. His fingers were cold, his grip urgent. He pulled her toward the same beam, causing her to drop the pic, crouching low. Deuce followed, snuffing the candle with a quick puff of breath. Darkness swallowed them instantly.

The only light left came from the faint blue glow of Grim’s flames. Yuu reached up and gently cupped his ears, muting the glow beneath her palms.

The air grew thick with silence.

Then came the sound—wet and deliberate. Something was moving deeper within the mine. It wasn’t footsteps, not exactly. It was the sound of sludge, of something heavy and fluid dragging itself across stone. A faint, rhythmic squelch. Drip. Slide. The noise filled the tunnel like a heartbeat.

And then came the light.

A dim red glow flickered far down the passage, bobbing slightly as it approached. The closer it came, the more the shadows around them retreated, replaced by an unnatural crimson haze that bled across the walls and floor.

The creature emerged from the dark.

It was massive—its hunched back brushing the mine’s ceiling beams. Its body was made of black sludge that shimmered like oil, thick enough to hold shape but constantly shifting, dripping onto the floor in slow rivulets. Its “head” was a cracked orb of glass, the inside swirling with inky black fluid that seeped from the fractures, leaking down its form like tears.

In one enormous, dripping hand, it carried a lantern glowing blood-red. In the other, it dragged a pickaxe that scraped sparks against the stone with every step. The metal groan of it echoed like a dying breath. Draped across its shifting body was a tattered, red patchwork shirt, frayed at the edges and stained dark. Atop what passed for its head sat a drooping cap—long and pointed, reminiscent of a stocking hat.

Yuu’s breath caught. Her mind raced to connect the dots. The cottage. The mine. The hat—

It looked like a dwarf.

Her stomach twisted as realization sank in. Of course. They’d been at Snow White’s cottage, and now this was the dwarves’ mine. Whatever this thing was—this monstrous, corrupted form—it had once been one of them. A storybook gone wrong.

In this world, maybe the princesses hadn’t gotten their happily-ever-afters. Maybe the villains had. The Evil Queen was revered; the dwarves, twisted into something else—left to rot in their own tale.

The creature lumbered past, its lantern casting eerie, blood-red light over their hiding spot. The air smelled of iron and ink, sharp and suffocating.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What is that freaky thing?)” Ace whispered, voice trembling despite his attempt to sound composed.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Nobody said I had to face creepy things like that!)” Grim hissed back, tail puffed, fur standing on end as he shook. His voice quivered, though he tried to sound indignant.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(St…one…)” the creature gurgled, each syllable bubbling through its cracked glass head as it turned down a narrow branch of the tunnel. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Iz… mine…)”

The words dragged and echoed, curling along the stone until they dissolved into a distant drip.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Is he saying something about a stone?)” Ace asked, voice low but edged with something like curiosity rather than fear. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Could he mean a magestone?)”

Deuce’s reaction was instantaneous—air ripped out of him in a sharp gasp and he launched himself from their hiding place, all caution thrown to the wind. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(So there are still magestones in the mine!)” he cried, voice tearing away from secrecy into raw determination. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Let’s go!)”

Yuu’s hand shot out before she fully thought, fingers clamping onto the back of his uniform with a firm, panicked yank. “Where are you going? That thing is still out there!” she hissed, the words pressed tight between her teeth. The echo of the creature’s sludgy footsteps still lingered in her ears.

Deuce looked back with eyes bright and unblinking. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I am positive that fiend is guarding a magestone,)” he said, voice small but molten with conviction. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I’m going to vanquish him.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(You’re kidding, right?!)” Ace barked, half-laugh, half-protest. His hand hovered uselessly in the air, as if he might grab Deuce and yank him back.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(N-n-no way, no how!)” Grim stammered, tail flicking like a nervous metronome. The little cat’s blue flames shivered; his fur stood on end. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I may be a genius, but there’s no beating that thing!)”

Deuce’s jaw clenched until his knuckles paled. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I cannot, under any circumstances, let them expel me!)” he snapped, the words brittle with fear and stubborn pride braided together. Then, as if to prove himself, he swung his fist into the rock face beside him. Stone fractured with a sharp crack; grit and tiny shards sprayed outward in a shimmering arc. The blow sent a small tremor underfoot, a tiny rain of debris tinkling against the pickaxes and the mine timbers.

​​“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Yeah, but is it worth risking your life?)” Ace questioned. 

“I don’t understand what’s so important about a stone,” Yuu said, letting go of Deuce’s uniform, “but I do understand you stand no chance against that thing.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(The magestone is right around the corner,)” he roared, voice raw. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(And you want to give up and go home?!)” Rage contorted his face—an expression that blurred the edges between bravery and foolishness. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, Yuu, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I know you don’t understand what’s happening, Yuu, but I’m going!)”

With that he stormed off, the sound of his boots slamming against the packed earth swallowed at once by the tunnel’s throat.

Ace and Grim flinched as if struck. Ace’s mouth opened and closed, uncertain; Grim’s whole body trembled, a dried leaf in a storm. Yuu stared after Deuce for a heartbeat, her pulse thrumming in her ears before she muttered a quiet curse. If Deuce had a death wish, she wasn’t about to let him die alone.

The tunnels grew darker and narrower as she chased the sound of clashing metal and shattering stone. When she finally caught sight of Deuce again, her stomach dropped. He was actually fighting the creature—head-on, of all things.

The inky giant loomed over him, its twisted, tar-like form glistening in the faint red light of its lantern. Each swing of its massive pickaxe carved deep cracks into the mine walls, shaking the ground beneath Yuu’s feet. Deuce ducked and weaved clumsily, the pickaxe smashing into the stone just inches from his head.

It was slow, lumbering—but every strike that landed sent a shudder through the mine. Deuce seemed to notice too, darting around to its back in a burst of reckless courage. He kicked the creature’s lower half, but instead of impact, his leg sank into its gelatinous, sludge-like body with a sickening squelch.

Deuce tried yanking and struggling to get his leg out, but the tar clung to him like glue.

The creature drew its arm back again, the heavy pickaxe creaking in its grip. Yuu sprinted forward, lungs burning. She seized the back of Deuce’s uniform and yanked with all her strength—dragging him free just as the pickaxe came crashing down. Both of them hit the ground hard, rolling aside as the weapon slammed into the earth.

The blow shattered the wall, scattering stone and dust in a choking cloud. Yuu threw an arm up to shield her face, wincing as splinters of rock and wood peppered her skin. One of the mine’s support beams splintered with a groan, the ceiling trembling above them.

“Yuu! Deuce!” Ace’s voice echoed from down the tunnel. He started toward them, only for the creature to turn its head, black fluid dripping from the cracks in its glass skull.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Go away! Go away! Go away!)” it howled, its voice like gravel and tar bubbling in a cauldron. It lurched forward, lumbering toward Ace and Grim.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s coming this way!)” Grim screeched, scrambling backward, claws digging furrows in the dirt.

“Come on, Deuce!” Yuu shouted, pulling him to his feet. The mine groaned around them, chunks of stone raining down like hail.

Then—woosh—a sudden gust of wind tore through the tunnel, deflecting the falling debris. The air shimmered faintly with magic.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(The best I can do is shield us from the rubble!)” Ace yelled, straining to keep his spell up as he lured the creature’s attention.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s a magestone!)” Deuce shouted suddenly, tugging at Yuu’s arm, eyes wide with desperate excitement.

“What?!” she snapped, half-dodging a falling rock. 

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—!(I saw it! Now we don’t have to be expelled—!)”

“Whatever you’re yapping about can wait!” Yuu barked, practically shoving him ahead as she ran. She scooped Grim up in her arms mid-stride, the little beast’s claws clutching at her sleeve as his tail wrapped tight around her wrist. “Ace?!” she called, glancing over her shoulder.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Yeah! I’m right behind you!)” Ace shouted, his voice strained but steady.

The four of them burst out of the mine just as another rumble shook the earth behind them. They stumbled into the open air, gasping for breath. The creature stopped at the threshold of the tunnel, its glowing lantern dimming before it retreated into the shadows with a low, gurgling moan.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim collapsed against the base of a nearby tree, their chests heaving, faces slick with sweat and dirt.

Yuu stood over them, panting hard, brushing stone dust from her clothes as she stared back at the mine’s entrance. The dark mouth yawned silently back at her, as if the whole thing had swallowed their near-death encounter without a trace.

She looked down at the three boys—slumped, exhausted, and utterly defeated—and couldn’t help thinking how impossibly tired they all looked, even though the run had barely lasted a minute.

Yuu watched them—chests heaving, lungs gulping air—but their panting only punctuated a round of insults. Words spat out, one after another, each barb sharper than the last. Ace jabbed an accusatory finger in Deuce’s direction, then flailed toward the gaping mine entrance as if the tunnel itself were an accomplice. Deuce mirrored him with a scoff and a dramatic eye-roll, as if they were two birds pecking at the same scrap.

She stared until the ridiculousness of it prickled her skin. It was like listening to children argue over a toy—endless, noisy, pointless. Yuu ran a hand through her hair and let out a long, exasperated sigh that seemed to cut through the air more sharply than any shout.

“You two are arguing like toddlers—stop it,” she snapped, irritation sharpening her voice. They ignored her.

She rolled her eyes and, quick as a reflex, tapped both of them lightly on the backs of their heads—firm enough to startle them into silence, not hard enough to hurt. Their bickering stalled mid-sentence. She gave a half-grunt as she plopped down beside the tree root where they’d collapsed; dust puffed up around her. Grim wasted no time in settling back onto her shoulder, scrambling up with ease until he was perched at eye level with the others.

“If you want whatever stone’s in there,” Yuu said, voice steady now, “we’re going to have to work as a team.”

Ace and Deuce blinked at her in unison, blank looks slowly creasing into confusion. They exchanged a quick, useless whisper—“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Did you catch anything he said?)”—before looking back at Yuu with the same expression she had when listening to anyone in this world speak.

Yuu rubbed the bridge of her nose. Curse this world and its blasted language barrier. She reached out, grabbed Ace and Deuce by the wrists, and forced their hands together in a stiff, awkward handshake—an unmistakable, universal motion. Then she pointed, slow and deliberate, toward the mine.

“Work together to defeat that thing. Got it?” she said, punctuating the last word with a hard nod.

Ace’s eyes flew wide as he ripped his hand away theatrically. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You want me to work with this reckless goody-two-shoes? No way—not a chance!)” he scoffed, folding his arms like a sulking child.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I don’t wanna work with you either!)” Deuce shot back, matching the posture, the huff, the furious little turn of his head. They both turned away, arms crossing.

Yuu deadpanned, more tired than angry. “What a shame. I guess we’ll all be expelled.” It was an attempt at sarcasm thin enough to slice.

Grim snickered from her shoulder, a high, contemptuous little sound. “(Expelled on the first day of school. What a bunch of losers.)”

That jab did something inevitable—it lit a petty spark in the boys. Their faces tightened, pride overtaking reluctance. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Okay, fine!)” they shouted, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(We’ll do it! We don’t want to be expelled! Ya happy now?!)”

Yuu exhaled, resigned, and planted her feet. Time for charades.

“Okay.” She stood, feeling the grit rub into her palms, and began to pantomime, slow and deliberate so there was no mistaking the meaning. She pointed to herself and Grim, then mimed the creature stumbling out of the mine—broad, exaggerated movements—before dragging an imaginary creature away. She spread her arms wide to show distraction. Next she mimed throwing something huge and heavy—overemphasized heaves and grunts at Deuce, “drop something heavy.”—then pointed emphatically at Ace, flailing her arms, “fan Grim’s flames.”

Deuce and Ace watched, brows furrowing as the little theatre played out. Yuu could almost hear the gears turn in their heads—clicks of comprehension grinding into motion.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Gotcha!)” Ace finally grinned, a sudden, eager flash replacing his earlier sulk. He sprang to his feet, shaking off dust.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(I think I got it as well…)” Deuce muttered, less sure, but nodded as well.

Yuu gave them a curt thumbs-up and took a few steps toward the mine mouth as the boys shuffled into their positions.
“Hey!” Yuu shouted into the dark, throwing her voice so it would carry, sharp and challenging. “Dwarf-mine-creature-thing—over here!”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(We’re over here!)” Grim echoed, louder than her, his blue flames flickering to life and casting a pale, eerie glow as he stuck his head out from behind her shoulder in a defiant taunt.

From deep within the mine, a low, guttural roar began to rise—thick and wet like stone grinding through mud. The sound rolled through the tunnels, echoing out until the very ground beneath Yuu’s boots trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling as the earth shuddered, pebbles skittering across the path.

Then came the light.

 A sickly red glow spilled through the black like blood through water, growing brighter with each step. The creature’s lantern swung in the dark, its glow catching the glint of wet stone and gems embedded in the mine’s walls.

“Time to go,” Yuu muttered. She didn’t need to say it twice for Grim to understand—both she and Grim turned on their heels and bolted, the cat’s claws pricking into her shoulder as he clung to her for balance. Behind them, the creature’s roar deepened, furious and heavy, its light lurching closer as they shouted and jeered to keep its attention.

They tore through the trees, branches snapping underfoot, leaves whipping against their faces. The forest swallowed them whole, shadows stretching tall as the red glow of the lantern bled through the trunks. When they reached the clearing—far enough from the mine that the air wasn’t thick with dust—Yuu risked a glance over her shoulder. The creature’s hulking silhouette emerged between the trees.

“Ace!” she shouted.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I got this!)” Ace’s voice rang out from somewhere ahead, sharp and confident. He stepped into view from behind a cluster of trees, his grin illuminated by the faint shimmer of magic. With a flick of his pen, the air around the monster began to twist and howl. Wind surged in a violent spiral, tearing fallen leaves and loose branches into a whirling storm that coiled around the creature’s form.

“Grim!” Yuu shouted, grabbing the feline and hoisting him like a living flamethrower.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I know, hench-human!)” Grim barked, blue fire sparking to life in his throat before erupting in a torrent of flame.

The inferno poured forth, fanning wide as Ace’s wind caught it. The gusts fed the flames, driving them hotter, brighter, and wilder until the creature was engulfed in a roaring cyclone of blue fire. The light danced across the trees, shadows twisting like writhing ghosts. The air crackled with heat. The creature’s roar turned to a strangled, gurgling bellow as its body thrashed within the flames, sending shockwaves through the forest.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(How’d you like that!)” Ace crowed triumphantly, smirking at Grim. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(By using my wind to fan Grim’s cheap flames, we get the firepower of a blowtorch!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(My flames are not cheap!)” Grim spat, landing on the ground with a hiss, fur puffed and tail bristling, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(you really need to learn when to stop talking!)” 

Yuu pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course. Even mid-battle, those two couldn’t go five seconds without bickering. “Deuce!” she called, already knowing Ace and Grim were a lost cause.

Deuce nodded, jaw set with determination. His grip tightened around his magic pen, knuckles white as he stepped forward. The flames reflected in his eyes as he shouted, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Come forth—giant cauldron!)”

The air shimmered above the creature, light bending and swirling until a massive iron cauldron materialized in the air. It hung there for a split second—suspended, trembling—then dropped with a deafening clang. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, the forest echoing with the metallic ring as the cauldron slammed down on the creature’s head, crushing it into the earth.

The monster let out one final groan, a thick, bubbling sound like tar boiling in a pit. The flames still licked at its inky form, blue light flickering beneath the heavy iron.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(We… did it?)” Ace breathed, disbelief coloring his tone.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(We… we won! We beat him, guys!)” Grim shouted, tail flicking wildly as he bounced in place.

The three boys exchanged a stunned look before breaking into grins, high-fiving each other like children who’d just conquered the world.

Yuu crossed her arms, watching them with a small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Glad to see you guys getting along for once.”

That alone was enough to make all three of them freeze mid-celebration. They turned to her in unison, caught like deer in headlights.

Before they could sputter out excuses Yuu wouldn’t understand anyway, she pointed toward the mine entrance, expression sharpening. “While it’s down, we should probably grab that stone thing.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Right! The stone!)” Deuce exclaimed, rallying quickly.

The four of them took off at a sprint, darting through the trees and toward the mine. The night air bit at their lungs, their footsteps pounding against the dirt as the flickering glow of Grim’s flames lit the way.

But as Yuu cast a glance back, something shifted in her gut. The cauldron—still glowing faintly in the dark—was tilting.

Her eyes widened. “Run!” She shoved Ace and Deuce forward with all her strength, scooping Grim up onto her shoulder mid-motion. “That thing isn’t fully down!”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Hey, why’re you—shit!)” Ace’s protest turned into a shout of panic as he looked over his shoulder.

From behind them, the iron cauldron rolled aside with a low metallic groan. The red lantern’s glow pulsed back to life beneath it.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(The magestone is just up ahead!)” Deuce shouted, pointing into the tunnel, eyes darting toward the faint shimmer deeper in the mine.

As they rounded the corner of the dimly lit tunnel, Yuu collided hard into Deuce’s back, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. “What the—” she started, but the words died in her throat as she saw what had stopped him.

Embedded in the rock ahead was a brilliant gem, glowing with an inner light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The faint hum of magic thrummed through the air. The cavern around them shimmered faintly in its radiance—veins of ore glinting gold and red, shadows stretching long across the stone.

Deuce reached forward and pried the gem loose with both hands. The moment it came free, the light flared, flooding the mine in a dazzling burst that made them all squint, before dying out. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(We got the magestone!)” Grim shouted triumphantly, hopping in place atop her shoulder before smacking Deuce atop the head. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Now let’s get outta here!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Roger that!)” Ace barked, clutching his pen tightly as he broke into a run, the others right on his heels.

The mine trembled beneath their feet, a deep rumble echoing through the tunnels like the growl of some sleeping beast. Pebbles rattled down from the ceiling, dust swirling around their heads in gritty clouds. Yuu’s stomach dropped as she realized what that meant—the creature had broken free.

A guttural roar tore through the tunnel, shaking the ground as the creature came lumbering into view. Its lantern swung wildly from its hand, casting red light that streaked across the jagged walls.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(My stone!)” it bellowed, voice booming so loud Yuu felt it in her chest. The massive pickaxe in its grip gleamed as it lifted it high above its head.

“Go!” Yuu shouted, shoving Deuce and Ace forward as the weapon came crashing down.

She barely dodged in time—the pickaxe slammed into the wall beside where she’d just been standing, the shockwave knocking her off balance. Acting on instinct, Yuu leapt, grabbing hold of the pick’s handle as it wedged into the wall. The vibration rattled through her bones. She gritted her teeth, hauling herself up the handle before launching off it, her boot connecting hard with the creature’s head.

The glass head whipped toward the mine wall, cracking on impact, black ink-like magic spilling out and sizzling against the stone. The creature roared in pain, staggering back and colliding with the cavern wall.

Yuu hit the ground and rolled, her palms scraping against rough stone, before pushing herself to her feet and sprinting forward again. She caught up to the others near the mouth of the cave—Ace and Deuce waiting just long enough to make sure she was still with them before bolting into the forest.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the forest blurring past in streaks of green and brown. Roots snagged at their feet, branches whipped at their faces, but none of them dared slow down.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(Are you kidding me?!)” Ace yelled between gasps, glancing over his shoulder. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and sweat. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s still coming! Even after taking that hit to the head!)”

“Don’t stop running!” Yuu barked, grabbing his arm and forcing him forward again. Her lungs burned, every inhale scraping like fire, but she didn’t let go.

Behind them, the creature crashed through the trees, each step shaking the ground like thunder.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Give… it… back!)” it roared, voice twisting with rage as it gained on them.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s too fast!)” Deuce shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(It’s about to catch us!)”

Yuu risked a glance over her shoulder—the creature was barreling through the forest, branches splintering under its weight, its lantern swinging wildly from its belt like a blood-red beacon. The ground quaked beneath each of its steps. They weren’t going to outrun it.

Skidding to a halt, Yuu spun on her heel, boots digging furrows into the dirt. “We’re not getting away,” she muttered, jaw clenched. “It’s kill or be killed, I guess.”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Aw, fine!)” Ace barked, coming to a stop beside her, eyes glinting with adrenaline. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, Deucey!(Let’s just smash the thing already! Try not to wet yourself, Deucey!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, Ace!(Same to you, Ace!)” Deuce shot back, stepping forward with his pen gripped tight in both hands. Determination burned in his gaze, his stance steady despite the tremor in his knees.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Grim 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(I’m gonna show ya why they call me Grim the Great!)” Grim growled, puffing up his fur. He inhaled sharply—then unleashed a roaring blast of blue fire that washed over the clearing, casting everything in a flickering azure glow.

Ace raised his pen, swirling the air around the flames. A gust of wind whipped through the trees, fanning Grim’s fire until it blazed like a storm, the heat searing even from where Yuu stood.

“Now!” Yuu shouted, sprinting forward through the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, the creature’s bellow shaking the air as she closed the distance. She ducked beneath the swing of its pickaxe—the metal whistled past her head by inches—and she used the momentum to leap, kicking off the shaft and driving her knee hard into the cracked glass of its head.

A splintering sound echoed through the forest, spiderweb fractures racing across the lantern’s surface.

The creature howled, swinging its lantern arm in a wide arc. The blow caught Yuu square in the side, sending her flying. Pain exploded through her ribs as she hit the ground, rolling through leaves and dirt before forcing herself onto one knee. Her breath came in ragged gasps, vision swimming.

“Yuu!” Grim’s voice reached her just as a metallic clang reverberated through the clearing.

Deuce had summoned another cauldron—larger this time—its shadow looming overhead before it came crashing down onto the creature. The impact split the earth with a dull boom, the cauldron’s weight driving the monster to one knee. Cracks spread wider across its glass head, and black, inky magic gushed out like oil, sizzling wherever it touched the ground.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Stay down!)” Deuce shouted, his voice echoing through the trees.

The creature roared in defiance, its massive arm lashing out to send the cauldron flying aside. Shards of glass and molten ink sprayed through the air, forcing everyone to duck.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You don’t have any magic!)” Ace yelled, whipping around toward Yuu. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Just leave it to us!)”

Yuu pushed herself to her feet, clutching her aching side. “I’m going to ignore whatever it is you’re saying!”

The creature swung its pickaxe again—this time slower, weaker—but it still tore a trench through the dirt. Yuu darted to the side, eyes locking on the fractured glass at its core. 

Grim’s tail bristled as he inhaled once more, flames flaring to life. Ace sent another gust of wind, but this time Yuu didn’t hesitate. She sprinted straight toward the creature, heat searing her skin as she dashed through the firestorm.

The creature reeled back, blinded by the blaze. Yuu jumped, vaulting off the ground. With a shout, she drove her foot hard into the fractured glass—

It’s head shattered.

The creature let out a final, distorted wail, its body convulsing before collapsing to the ground. Its form crumbled like sand, the last of the inky magic spilling onto the earth evaporating into the night air.

Yuu gulped down lungfuls of air, the burn in her lungs slowly ebbing as the adrenaline drained from her veins. Her whole body trembled from the aftershock of the battle, each heartbeat pounding in her ears like a drum. The side of her torso throbbed with a deep, pulsing ache—she didn’t have to look to know it would bruise black and blue.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Is it… over?)” Ace panted, dragging himself toward her. His hair was sticking up in every direction, his uniform streaked with dirt and soot. He offered her a hand, his grip firm despite the shake in his arms as he helped her off the ground.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(I think… we won? We won for real this time?)” Grim wheezed, padding over and flopping against Yuu’s boot, his fur singed at the tips and smelling faintly of smoke. Deuce wasn’t far behind, clutching his knees and gasping for air, but a grin was already forming on his face.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(All right!)” Deuce cheered, voice breaking from exhaustion but brimming with triumph. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(We actually did it!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Woohoo!)” Ace whooped, raising a hand that Deuce eagerly smacked. Grim hopped up, paw outstretched, and Yuu followed with a tired laugh, joining in their chaotic celebration. The crisp slap of their high-fives echoed through the quiet forest, the sound sharp and satisfying after all that chaos.

They all started laughing—loud, breathless, and giddy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Yuu managed between breaths, her voice still shaky from adrenaline.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(Y’know…)” Ace grinned, his usual smugness tempered by something almost like respect, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I hate to admit it, but… we mostly won because of your plan.)”

Deuce nodded, agreeing with whatever Ace had said, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(yeah… if you hadn’t managed to keep your cool and tell–well… mime us all what to do, we never would have got this magestone.)” he said, patting his pocket where the stone lay, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(now I won’t get expelled. And wow, is that a relief!)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Night Raven College!(Now I have a chance to get into Night Raven College!)” Grim cheered.

Yuu smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed fatigue. “I have no clue what you guys just said,” she admitted with a sigh, “but I’m just glad everyone’s in one piece.” She winced as the movement sent a stab of pain through her side.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Whoa, hey—are you okay?)” Ace asked, frowning as he caught the grimace.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Let's see the damage,)” Deuce said, stepping forward, concern softening his voice.

Yuu took a wary step back, eyeing them suspiciously. “Uh… what are you two doing?”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Man, this language barrier’s gonna kill us,)” Ace muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(If you’d left everything to me you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place!)” Grim huffed, crossing his arms, tail flicking indignantly. But despite his words, his ears drooped slightly, and worry flickered behind his wide eyes. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(You’re lucky I’m a magical genius, otherwise that thing would’ve flattened you like a pancake!)”

Deuce pointed to his own side, then to hers. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Your side,)” he said slowly, his tone careful and measured. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(How bad is it?)”

Yuu blinked, finally understanding. She hesitated, then sighed. “It’s fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She unzipped the top half of her school-issued jumpsuit, tying the sleeves loosely around her waist, and lifted the hem of her charcoal t-shirt.

The boys visibly flinched. A deep, mottled bruise stretched from her hip to just below her ribs—a spreading bloom of purple and black already darkening at the edges.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Yeesh,)” Ace muttered under his breath, grimacing. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(That thing really clocked you…)”

Yuu tested her side with a light press, wincing but managing to keep her balance. “It looks worse than it is,” she said, forcing a reassuring smile. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s broken.” She lowered her shirt and waved off their concern.

 “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(If you’re sure you’re alright…)” Deuce murmured, still frowning, his expression tight with guilt.

Ace sighed heavily, rubbing his shoulder. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 Yuu's 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Can we please go home now? I’m dead on my feet—and I’m pretty sure Yuu’s ready to drop, too.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Usin’ all that magic made me hungry!)” Grim complained, his stomach giving a dramatic growl that broke through the hush of the forest. The sound seemed to echo between the trees, startling a few birds into flight, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(huh? What’s this?)” 

Yuu followed his gaze, eyes narrowing as the last traces of shimmering magic faded from the clearing. Where the creature had fallen moments ago, a single black stone now rested among the crushed leaves and damp earth.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Is that part of the monster we just beat?)” Deuce asked, tilting his head as he stepped closer. The stone gleamed faintly in the low light, like polished obsidian catching firelight, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀? 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(It looks like… a magestone? But it’s black as coal! I’ve never seen one like that before.)”

Yuu crouched, brushing dirt from the object before picking it up. The stone was unexpectedly warm against her skin—heavier than it looked, and humming faintly, almost like it had a heartbeat of its own. A strange feeling crawled up her arm, subtle but unmistakable—a slow seep of melancholy, faint and shapeless, like remembering a dream she wished she’d forgotten.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(What is that?)” Grim asked, craning his neck and sniffing eagerly, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(it smells amazing! Gimme it!)” 

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Are you insane?)” Ace asked the cat incredulously.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀! 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... Yuu, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Must be some kinda fancy monster candy! If this tastes half as good as it smells… Yuu, gimme it!)” Grim said, making eager grabbing motions toward the stone.

Yuu blinked at him, hesitant, but held out the stone anyway—he seemed to want it so badly.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—No! Yuu, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—(Wha—No! Yuu, don’t give it to—)”

Before Ace could finish, Grim lunged forward and chomped down.

Yuu’s eyes widened in horror. “Grim!” she gasped, grabbing him by the cheeks and trying to pry his mouth open. “Spit it out! Out! Bad cat!”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?!(Why’d you give it to him?!)” Deuce shouted, voice cracking with disbelief.

“If you’re yelling at me about giving him the rock— I didn’t know he was gonna eat it!” Yuu shouted back, exasperation slumping her shoulders as she realized the worst had already happened. Grim had swallowed.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Myah!)” Grim yelped, his paws flying to his mouth.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀?(Are you okay?)” Deuce asked cautiously.

Ace crossed his arms with a scoff. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(That’s what you get for eating trash!)”

But instead of groaning or gagging, Grim’s eyes lit up. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀... 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(That… was amazing!)” he exclaimed, tail swishing wildly. The others froze, dumbstruck. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀-𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀—𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀!(Rich in flavor and full-bodied—like sweet, fragrant flowers burstin’ into bloom on my tongue!)”

Ace gagged theatrically. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(gross. Monsters must have real weird tastes.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀...(You might be onto something there…)” Deuce sighed, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(most humans don’t take random stuff they find on the ground and just pop it into their mouths.)”

Yuu stared at Grim, nose wrinkling in mild disgust. The thought of him savoring that cursed-looking rock made her stomach twist.

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Don’t worry about me,)” Grim said smugly, puffing out his chest. “𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(I don’t got a weak stomach like you humans do.)”

Ace huffed, “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(we’ll see if you’re so smug when you’re sick later tonight.)”

“𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀, 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Alright, enough,)” Deuce said, forcing a breath and straightening up. “𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀. 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀 𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀𝄂𝄀𝄀(Let’s pull ourselves together. We need to get this magestone to the Headmage.)”