The Thylacea common room was comfortably warm, bathed in the gentle amber glow of magical lamps. A soft murmur of conversation filled the air as students relaxed after their day in Fernwick, recounting their adventures and proudly displaying their newly acquired treasures. Among them, seated awkwardly in an armchair near the fireplace, Sage Blackthorn held a small black kitten carefully in his lap, looking profoundly uncomfortable and simultaneously determined not to show it.

  Davonte, sprawled casually across one of the sofas opposite Sage, was the first to notice. He sat up abruptly, eyes widening comically as they landed on the tiny feline now curled contentedly in Sage’s lap. "Blackthorn?" he said incredulously, pointing with exaggerated confusion. "Is that a cat?"

  Sage glanced up, his expression immediately turning defensive, the muscles in his jaw tightening slightly as he reluctantly met Davonte’s surprised stare. "Obviously," he retorted stiffly, absently running his fingers over the kitten’s sleek, dark fur. "Observant as always, Evander."

  Davonte shot back a skeptical grin, undeterred by Sage's chilly tone. "I didn't exactly take you for a kitten person. Dragons or snakes, maybe, but kittens?"

  Kalsei, who had been half-listening to their exchange while examining his new cloak—bright teal with embroidered patterns—abruptly spun around at the mention of kittens. His eyes sparkled with delighted curiosity as he practically bounced over to Sage's chair, barely containing his excitement. "Oh my gosh! It’s adorable! Look at its little face!" he cooed happily, reaching out to gently scratch the kitten under its chin.

  Sage tensed briefly but said nothing, merely glaring at Kalsei’s hand as though daring it to move an inch too far. But to everyone’s surprise, the kitten tilted its head back, eyes squinting shut in blissful appreciation of the attention, emitting a soft, contented purr.

  Tiana, elegantly seated nearby, regarded the scene with quiet amusement, the corner of her lips quirking upward in a restrained smile. "It suits you, Sage," she observed gently, her voice calm and soothing as she gracefully set down the book she had been browsing. "Though, I admit it's unexpected."

  Draven, seated beside her with a thick volume open on his lap, nodded thoughtfully, his keen eyes observing the kitten with an analytical interest. "Familiars often reflect their wizard's personality," he remarked casually, adjusting his glasses slightly. "Though in this case, perhaps it’s an opposite reflection—a balancing force, one might say."

  Davonte grinned wickedly, leaning forward eagerly. "Exactly. Maybe it'll help soften Blackthorn's edges a little," he teased lightly.

  Sage scowled fiercely at Davonte, though a faint flush crept up his pale cheeks, betraying his embarrassment. He glanced quickly down at the kitten again, its large eyes gazing trustingly up at him, and something in his guarded expression softened. "I didn't exactly choose it," he muttered under his breath, reluctantly admitting the truth. "Soya bought it for me."

  An immediate silence followed, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the kitten's quiet purring. Davonte's grin faltered slightly, surprise flickering across his features. "Soya?" he repeated, eyebrows raised. "Soya bought you a kitten?"

  Sage shrugged awkwardly, eyes stubbornly fixed on the tiny creature nestled comfortably against him. "Apparently," he said curtly, though there was an underlying note of something gentler in his voice, something reluctant yet undeniably grateful. "I didn't ask him to."

  Tiana’s expression softened knowingly, a gentle warmth entering her gaze as she studied Sage. "He has a habit of noticing things others miss," she said quietly. "Perhaps he saw something you didn't realize you needed."

  Davonte hesitated, chewing his lip thoughtfully before he nodded slowly. "He does have that way about him," he admitted, voice losing its teasing edge. "Still surprising, though."

  Kalsei, meanwhile, was already back to happily doting on the kitten, grinning brightly at Sage. "Have you thought of a name yet? You can’t just keep calling him 'it.' He deserves something special."

  Sage stared down at the kitten, uncertainty flickering briefly across his carefully guarded face. He traced one finger softly along its velvety ear, the kitten immediately leaning into his touch. "I haven’t decided yet," he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "It's only been a few hours."

  Draven regarded Sage with a faint but unmistakably approving nod. "Choosing a familiar's name is important. Take your time."

  Sage met Draven's eyes briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. He then returned his attention to the kitten, whose tiny body was now curled into a contented ball, paws tucked beneath its chest. For once, the ever-composed Sage Blackthorn seemed uncertain, vulnerable—though none of his companions dared point it out.

  Davonte finally broke the silence again, clearing his throat loudly as he leaned back comfortably into his chair. "Well, whatever you call it, I hope it bites you at least once," he teased lightly, smirking playfully at Sage. "Just to remind you to be nice."

  Sage glared sharply at Davonte, but the faintest flicker of amusement twitched at the corners of his lips before he quickly masked it. "Noted, Evander," he retorted coolly, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone, though softer now. "I'll be sure to inform him of your advice."

  Around them, gentle laughter rippled quietly through the group, and even Sage seemed a little less tense, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the small, hesitant beginnings of something new—friendship, acceptance, and perhaps, a little more hope than he'd had before.

  The conversation slowly shifted away from Sage’s kitten as Davonte stretched dramatically, reaching down beside his chair to grab a heavy bag filled to the brim with treats and trinkets. He eagerly placed it onto the table with an exaggerated flourish, grinning broadly. "Alright," he announced proudly, "since Blackthorn’s little furball has had enough attention, it’s time we compare our Fernwick hauls."

  Kalsei clapped his hands excitedly, immediately diving into his bag and pulling out the shimmering teal cloak he had purchased earlier. With a theatrical spin, he draped it around his shoulders, the vibrant material shimmering beautifully in the gentle glow of the room. "What do you think? Does it scream 'magical prodigy who will amaze and inspire the younger generation'?"

  Davonte laughed openly, nodding approvingly. "It definitely screams something, mate. But yeah, you’ll leave an impression for sure."

  Tiana shook her head softly, a quiet smile playing at the corners of her lips as she reached into her elegant satchel and produced a set of beautifully engraved silver quills, the craftsmanship delicate and refined. "I stopped by that exquisite stationery shop," she said softly, her eyes bright with quiet pride. "These quills are enchanted—they’ll never run dry, and the ink changes color according to my mood."

  Draven’s eyebrows lifted slightly in genuine interest, and he leaned forward, examining the quills with scholarly fascination. "Remarkable. Quite useful for someone who keeps extensive notes," he remarked thoughtfully, reaching into his own neatly organized bag and retrieving a stack of heavy tomes. "I visited the bookstore. Managed to find several rare texts on advanced potion-brewing and historical magical theory."

  Davonte rolled his eyes good-naturedly, leaning over to peer at Draven’s books, his expression a comical mix of awe and mild disbelief. "You realize this was meant to be a day off, right, mate? Did you really just spend your entire Fernwick visit finding ways to do more homework?"

  Draven’s expression was entirely serious as he adjusted his glasses calmly. "Not homework—personal study. There’s an important difference."

  Tiana chuckled quietly at Draven’s earnestness, exchanging a knowing glance with Davonte before turning her attention to Sage, who was gently stroking the tiny kitten now sleeping soundly in his lap. "Did you find anything besides the kitten, Sage?"

  Sage hesitated, momentarily caught off guard by the question, then shook his head slightly. "No. The…cat occupied most of my time," he admitted quietly, not quite able to keep the awkwardness from his voice. He quickly added, in an almost defensive tone, "Besides, I wasn’t really looking for anything else."

  Davonte shrugged, popping a piece of candy from his impressive stash into his mouth. "Fair enough. Can’t top getting a kitten, I suppose."

  Their conversation lulled gently, the common room settling into quiet warmth as the students admired each other's finds, soft chatter filling the spaces between them. Sage seemed to relax slightly, leaning back in his chair and allowing himself to enjoy the unfamiliar comfort of casual companionship.

  It was then that gentle footsteps descended from the dormitory staircase, and Soya quietly entered the common room, his sketchbook tucked securely under his arm. He paused briefly at the foot of the stairs, taking in the pleasant scene before him with mild curiosity.

  Davonte looked up first, flashing a wide grin and waving him over enthusiastically. "Soya! There you are, mate. We were just comparing loot from Fernwick."

  Soya smiled softly, approaching the group with a shy, curious expression. "Sounds like you all had a good time," he said gently, eyes immediately softening further as he caught sight of Sage and the sleeping kitten. "I see the kitten made itself right at home."

  Sage glanced away quickly, though the faint flush that rose to his cheeks betrayed a quiet gratitude. "You didn’t have to buy him," he mumbled stiffly, unable to meet Soya’s warm gaze.

  Soya shrugged gently, taking a seat near Davonte and setting his sketchbook down. "I wanted to. Everyone deserves something special."

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Kalsei eagerly cut in, practically bouncing in place. "Speaking of special, what did you get, Soya? Surely you didn’t spend your entire Fernwick trip hiding in the dorm?"

  Soya laughed softly, shaking his head. "No, I got a few things. Mostly art supplies—a new set of charmed inks, some enchanted parchment, and a really nice leather-bound sketchbook." He lifted his new book carefully, displaying the beautifully embossed cover. "Supposedly, anything I draw in this book will last longer."

  Tiana’s eyes brightened with genuine interest. "That's perfect for your… unique talent," she said meaningfully, her gaze meeting his warmly.

  Soya flushed slightly, ducking his head shyly. "That's the idea," he admitted quietly. "I figured it might help me get better control."

  Draven nodded approvingly. "It’s wise to invest in tools that match your potential, Soya. Good choice."

  Davonte leaned forward eagerly, eyes shining mischievously. "So, are you going to draw Sage’s kitten first? Seems fitting."

  Soya laughed softly, his eyes darting briefly to Sage, who was still stubbornly avoiding eye contact but whose tense posture had relaxed considerably since earlier. "Maybe," he teased gently. "If Sage allows it, that is."

  Sage exhaled slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line. But when he finally spoke, his voice was unusually soft. "Do what you like. Just…make sure it looks good."

  A gentle round of laughter filled the common room once again, the warmth of genuine camaraderie enveloping them all. Soya smiled contentedly, glancing around at his friends. The feeling was comforting—a reminder that despite the dangers and mysteries they'd faced recently, there were still moments like this: peaceful, warm, and filled with simple happiness.

  Later that afternoon, the halls of Austramore lay peaceful and nearly empty, their polished stone floors reflecting the fading sunlight streaming gently through towering windows. Soya moved quietly down one of the long, curving corridors, his sketchbook tucked carefully beneath one arm, his expression thoughtful yet distant. His mind was occupied, as it often was, with fragments of sketches he’d yet to create and runes he’d yet to fully understand. The events of the past few days still weighed heavily upon him, casting their own uncertain shadows.

  Lost in these thoughts, he didn't immediately notice the steady, purposeful footsteps approaching from behind until a familiar, cool voice cut through his reverie.

  “Vareen,” came the crisp, unmistakably authoritative voice of Lykaios Verelle, "We need to talk."

  Soya glanced up quickly, startled by her sudden presence. Lykaios matched his pace effortlessly, her piercing blue eyes coolly assessing him, her flawless ponytail swaying slightly with each precise stride. Even now, her very presence radiated confidence, command, and a hint of barely restrained impatience.

  "Is something wrong?" Soya asked hesitantly, still somewhat intimidated by her intensity, though he’d grown accustomed to her unpredictable interventions recently. “Did I—”

  “You've missed practice twice already this week,” Lykaios cut him off bluntly, folding her arms in a gesture of stern disapproval. "The demon incident should have made it obvious. You're a target now, and if you're going to survive, you need to take your training seriously."

  Soya shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes briefly. "I know," he murmured softly, guilt lacing his quiet tone. "I'm sorry, Lykaios. I'll do better—I promise."

  She regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Promises are meaningless unless backed by action,” she stated matter-of-factly, halting abruptly and stepping in front of him, forcing him to stop as well. Her expression softened almost imperceptibly, her voice losing a hint of its sharpness. "You're skilled, Soya. More skilled than you realize. But raw talent alone won't save you. It needs discipline, focus, and—"

  But whatever else she had planned to say was abruptly cut off by a loud, sharp snap beneath her foot. Lykaios froze instantly, her eyes widening in surprise as the air around them seemed to ripple with barely suppressed magic.

  "What the—"

  Before she could finish, a brilliant burst of multicolored glitter exploded from the floor beneath her, showering her from head to toe in shimmering pink, blue, and gold sparkles. The entire corridor echoed with the sharp, ringing laughter of mischievous magic, followed immediately by the horrified gasp of a young wizard standing just beyond a nearby corner.

  Saunak Carswell stared at Lykaios in wide-eyed horror, his silver-white hair turning a panicked shade of vibrant pink as he realized exactly who had sprung his carefully laid prank trap.

  "Professor’s whiskers! L-Lykaios… I—I swear that wasn’t meant for you!" Saunak stammered, stumbling backward in immediate retreat. "It—it was just a harmless joke! For someone else! Someone less—uh—less scary!"

  Lykaios stood perfectly still, her features now glittering furiously beneath layers of sparkling powder, her expression dangerously unreadable. Slowly, she wiped a hand down her face, smearing the glitter in a way that was far more menacing than amusing. "Carswell," she said in a voice so dangerously soft that the air itself seemed to tremble, "Run."

  Saunak didn’t need further encouragement. With a frantic, terrified yelp, he spun on his heel, bolting down the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him, tripping slightly as he went. "I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

  Without hesitation, Lykaios began marching purposefully after him, her eyes narrowed in focused fury, the glittering trail of sparkles fluttering angrily behind her as she stormed down the hall. Yet even as she pursued her target, she turned her head briefly, eyes meeting Soya's with an intensity that immediately silenced any urge he might have had to laugh.

  “This isn't over, Soya,” she shouted fiercely over her shoulder, her voice echoing ominously through the hall. “When I'm done handling this pest, you and I will have words about your training!"

  Soya watched helplessly, torn between sympathy for Saunak and awe at Lykaios's unyielding resolve. "Understood," he called after her meekly, though he wasn’t sure she heard him over the sound of Saunak’s frantic pleas and her own furious footsteps.

  Slowly, the commotion faded into the distance, leaving Soya standing alone in the now oddly quiet hallway, a few lingering specks of glitter still drifting gently through the air. He shook his head, a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself.

  At least life at Austramore was never dull.

  Soya continued his slow walk through the quiet corridors, a lingering, amused smile still playing at the corners of his lips. Occasionally, he glanced back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Saunak dashing past once more, or perhaps to hear Lykaios’s formidable voice echoing threats through the halls. But the corridor remained empty and peaceful, the previous chaos already fading into distant memory.

  Lost in thought, Soya almost didn’t notice the soft, familiar footsteps approaching from a nearby corridor. It was only when Draven’s calm, analytical voice reached him that Soya realized he was no longer alone.

  “Soya,” Draven greeted him simply, adjusting his glasses as he fell easily into step beside his friend. “You look unusually entertained. Did something interesting happen?”

  Soya chuckled softly, nodding as he recounted the recent event. “Saunak set off one of his pranks, and unfortunately for him, Lykaios got caught in it.”

  Draven raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And Saunak survived? Impressive. She must have been feeling generous today.”

  “Generous isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” Soya replied wryly, “but yes, he survived. Barely.”

  Draven hummed thoughtfully, clearly amused, though his expression remained characteristically composed. For a few moments, they walked together in comfortable silence, the quiet rhythm of their footsteps echoing gently off the stone walls.

  As they rounded a corner, Soya glanced curiously at Draven. “So, have you thought about what you’ll be doing for the holidays? You haven’t mentioned much about your plans.”

  Draven hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze shifting to the stone floor before returning forward. “It’s… complicated,” he admitted quietly, choosing his words carefully. “My family isn’t exactly traditional. Holidays are typically just another occasion for research or experimentation. Not much different from any other time of the year.”

  Soya studied him thoughtfully, sensing something more beneath his friend’s vague answer. “That sounds a bit lonely,” he ventured gently, unsure how much Draven would be comfortable sharing.

  Draven shrugged slightly, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Not really. I prefer it, actually. It allows more time for study. Though,” he admitted softly, a hint of warmth creeping into his normally reserved voice, “I suppose this year, it might feel somewhat… different.”

  “Different how?” Soya prompted, genuinely curious.

  Draven glanced sideways at him, his usually detached expression softening slightly. “Having friends makes things more complicated, but perhaps more interesting. I might even find myself missing company this year.”

  Soya smiled warmly, touched by Draven’s admission. “You know, Tiana is spending the holidays with me. If you want, you could—”

  But before he could finish his thought, rapid, furious footsteps echoed sharply through the hall ahead, interrupting their conversation. Both boys stopped abruptly, turning to see Lykaios storming purposefully toward them. Her usually immaculate appearance was marred by the remaining glitter that clung stubbornly to her hair and robes, catching the light and sparkling absurdly with every angry step she took. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she closed the distance, clearly still seething from Saunak’s prank.

  She stopped directly in front of Soya, fixing him with a piercing, intense stare, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “We need to finish that conversation,” she snapped, her voice a taut, simmering mix of annoyance and determination. “Now.”

  Draven studied her silently for a moment, eyes tracing the glitter still clinging to her robes and hair. His voice was even, calm, and entirely deadpan when he finally spoke. “Lykaios, you look positively sparkling today. It’s a good look for you.”

  Lykaios turned her head slowly toward Draven, fixing him with a gaze cold enough to freeze flames. The sheer intensity of her stare would have silenced most, but Draven met it calmly, expression unchanged. After a long, tense moment, the corner of Soya’s mouth twitched uncontrollably, and a sudden laugh escaped before he could stifle it.

  Lykaios’s glare snapped back to Soya, but at the sight of his genuine laughter, her fierce expression wavered. For a brief moment, she struggled to maintain her intimidating composure, then let out an irritated sigh, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, Vareen,” she muttered grudgingly.

  Before anyone could respond, the slow, measured footsteps of Professor Seikan Blackthorn echoed quietly down the hall. All three students fell instantly silent as he approached, his gaze cool and detached, observing the scene without betraying a single emotion.

  Seikan paused directly beside them, his sharp emerald eyes calmly assessing Lykaios. His gaze lingered deliberately on the sparkling glitter coating her robes and hair. After a moment of profound silence, he tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, measured, and filled with a subtle, restrained amusement that few could detect.

  “Miss Verelle,” he said slowly, raising one eyebrow in polite yet pointed curiosity, “you seem to be… sparkling.”

  Lykaios’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she visibly bristled, though she said nothing, maintaining her carefully controlled expression as best as she could. Seikan said nothing further, merely offering her a brief, enigmatic glance before continuing on down the corridor, his dark robes trailing silently behind him.

  As soon as he vanished around the corner, Draven finally broke the tense silence, his voice tinged with quiet amusement. “Even Professor Blackthorn noticed. That’s an accomplishment in itself.”

  Lykaios exhaled sharply, clearly irritated yet somewhat resigned. She brushed at the glitter again, making little progress, before giving up altogether. With a glare that held considerably less venom this time, she jabbed one finger pointedly toward Soya. “Tomorrow morning. Early. Training. Do not be late,” she warned him firmly.

  Then, with one last dignified toss of her glittery ponytail, Lykaios marched away, leaving Soya and Draven standing in amused, slightly stunned silence behind her.

  Draven turned slowly toward Soya, a faint but unmistakable smile on his lips. “I’d say your holiday is going to be much more entertaining than mine.”

  Soya chuckled softly, shaking his head in agreement. “You might be right about that.”