The air itself felt different here — warmer, denser, buzzing with something more alive than mere wind. While magic clung to it like perfume, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts, fresh bread, and a strange floral-citrus note she couldn’t name, somewhere between lavender and lime.

  Rin’s boots clicked against the cobblestone, each step sending tiny echoes up the narrow alleyways. The rhythm of her footsteps kept breaking — first by the rush of strangers brushing past, then by the faint clink of coins in an unseen beggar’s cup, and then by the sudden pop of magic from somewhere overhead.

  She had never seen so many colors in motion — not in paintings, not in dreams. Deep crimson robes swirled behind hurried sorcerers, their hems brushing against her calves if she strayed too close. Crisp business suits like Vix’s cut sharp lines through the crowd, moving with the clipped purpose of people who didn’t even notice her. Sunlit summer dresses swirled past, pale arms flashing under loose sleeves, lips painted in colors brighter than any desert flower she knew.

  And the women… goodness sake, the women.

  Some wore gowns so intricate they looked spun from starlight, catching the sun and bending it into soft, shifting glimmers with every movement. Others wore skirts so short Rin wondered if the seamstress had simply stopped halfway, or tops so slight they seemed stitched from rationed fabric.

  Her gaze kept darting, unsure if she was scandalized or simply curious. She found herself staring at a few in particular — women whose casual clothes still felt like deliberate statements. Their lips shimmered in brilliant shades of crimson, plum, candy pink, and even daring hues of cobalt blue, poison green, or soft orange cream. Their cheeks seemed flushed and warm, as though a touch might transfer that heat into someone’s skin, chasing away the chill of the desert nights she’d once known.

  And their eyes — impossibly large, like living dolls brought to life. Some wore sharp, winged lines at their corners, a bold stroke of black that seemed to dare anyone to look at them… and to offer anything less than admiration.

  The vehicles were another kind of magic entirely. Glass-and-steel carriages — cars, Vix had called them — rolled past with a smooth hum, their metallic skins gleaming like beetle shells. Some passed so close she could have reached out and touched them. Others flew overhead, leaving trails of white condensed air that quickly dissolved into the blue.

  Above even those, louder engines occasionally thundered — larger vessels known as airships. Some carried passengers, others cargo, and the kind Vix was most familiar with were called military aircraft.

  On the streets, larger beasts of transport lumbered along: buses painted in bold stripes, their windows flashing with shimmering advertisements. A billboard’s surface rippled and changed before her eyes — one moment an ad for wand polish, the next a dueling tournament poster where the champions winked at passersby. Some billboards clung to the sides of buildings or hovered at street corners; others floated freely in the sky. A few would vanish altogether, only to reappear in a different part of the city moments later.

  One particular ad caught her eye. To be the strongest is to be the healthiest! it declared, followed by the image of a man holding a tube of toothpaste. It was a name she’d only ever heard from Rick — Yaxon Staffire — now with a face to match: a confident, wide smile framed by hair the unusual shade of bluish-white.

  A street musician plucked at an instrument that looked halfway between a guitar and a harp, each note bending unnaturally in the air before curling into the ears of his audience like a whispered secret. A hat in a shop window tipped its brim politely to her, then spun to greet another passerby. At a nearby café, a pair of enchanted teacups floated down a table, swerving to avoid an eager hand before settling back onto their saucers like skittish pets.

  Then something warm and buttery tugged at her skirt. She let out a startled yelp and looked down to find… a creature made entirely of bread. It smelled of yeast and honey, shaped vaguely like a dog—if a dog had two pairs of ears and five wagging tails. It barked once, then collapsed into a playful roll at her feet, panting as crumbs scattered from its sides.

  “V–Vix!” Rin yelped, instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt as she trembled. Even as she kept walking, her eyes stayed fixed on the bread dog, torn between the urge to run… and the temptation to reach out and pet it.

  “Keep walking,” Vix murmured without looking at her, giving her a subtle nudge along — and off him.

  “I am walking…” she muttered — though her feet had slowed, each shop window tugging at her like a magnet.

  Every detail clashed against the quiet monotony of the desert, the steady hum of EMV rides, the cramped spare room at the Academy. The noise pressed against her ears like water. Somewhere, a steam vent hissed. Somewhere else, someone laughed loud enough to turn heads. She didn’t realize her shoulders had crept up to her ears until she forced them down again.

  “There’s just… so much happening…”

  “I know,” Vix replied, glancing briefly at the same crowd she was drowning in. “I was hesitant to come here for that reason. But the Academy was over Paris, so… what was I gonna do?”

  Then his tone shifted, casual but decisive: “Anyway, let’s stop by over there.”

  Rin followed his gaze — and froze.

  The building ahead was a cathedral of fashion, so massive she had to crane her neck until it hurt just to glimpse its roofline. The fa?ade was paneled with jeweled windows polished to such clarity they seemed invisible, their glass catching sunlight like the facets of gemstones. From the rooftop, beams of golden light lanced upward as if challenging the very stars to compete.

  And the line — the line. Hundreds of people stood in orderly chaos, their chatter a thousand overlapping threads of languages she couldn’t place. Every so often, a ripple of excitement moved through them, like a flock of birds startled into flight, when the ornate double doors swung open to admit the next lucky group.

  An illuminated sign caught her eye at last. She couldn’t believe she’d missed it — letters in gold and deep blue rippled like oil on water, each one breathing with a faint pulse as though alive.

  “Let… let oil… uhm…” she began, trying to sound it out.

  “It’s L’étoile Royale de la Rue, Rin,” Vix supplied smoothly.

  She looked at the ground, cheeks coloring to a soft pink. “Is English always this hard?”

  “It’s French, actually. Common here. You could take it as an elective at Kormadyne, if you like.”

  And just like that, he was already striding toward the front of the line, leaving her to stare once more at the palace of glass and light, her heart thudding with equal parts awe and intimidation. She shook her head and hurried after him.

  Vix sighed under his breath.

  “I seriously hate that I’m doing this so often now… but desperate times, desperate measures,” he muttered, before stepping up to the burly bouncer guarding the entrance.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Hm? And just who do you think you are?”

  Rin caught up, craning her neck to look at the man blocking the entrance. He was taller than Vix and twice as broad, his arms thick enough to match the size of Vix’s hips. A long, curled moustache sat proudly above a frown that looked like it had been trained in a mirror.

  “Hey, yeah, look, I don’t usually do this, but I’m on a time crunch. Can you just let me in quickly? I need to—” Vix began, fishing through his wallet. He pulled out his badge—only to be cut off.

  “Absolutely not! I don’t care who you are or who you think you are—damn Enforcers are all the same! Get to the back of the line before you’re banned outright!” the bouncer barked.

  “But—but this is official Grand Military business!” Vix whined, his voice cracking under the weight of public embarrassment. Rin watched him fold faster than a sandstorm tent in high winds, and for a brief moment, she almost pitied him.

  “Uh-uh! Back. Of. The. Line. Vermin.” The man folded his arms, flexing his forearms as if to make a point.

  Vix sighed, clearly regretting his life choices, and began dragging his feet toward what looked like the endless end of the line.

  Rin couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “Uh-uhm, sir…” she began softly.

  The man’s head turned immediately at the sound of her voice — which was impressive, given she could barely hear herself over the street noise.

  “Hm?”

  “Mister Vix is a commander… he’s probably sad enough already and—and tired! Isn’t there any way you can help him?”

  “Listen, missy. If you think you’re entitled to the privileges those Enforcers think they have just because you hang around with one, you’ve got another thing coming. Either wait here until it’s his turn, or go join him. I don’t care which. None of you are entering this establishment until it’s your turn!” he roared.

  Rin shrank back, hands clasped tightly in front of her. The man’s glare showed no sign of softening.

  But he was about to regret that.

  A towering figure appeared behind him — a woman even taller, broader, and wider. She seized him by the ear with one thick hand. Her makeup was so heavy that, if not for the sleeveless dress showing her baggy arms, Rin wouldn’t have been able to guess her actual skin tone. She wore perfectly round sunglasses that covered only her eyes, topped with a massive frilly-edged pink hat. At her side swung a purse so enormous Rin was fairly sure it could fit her inside… and maybe Vix too.

  “Are you serious, Fren!?” she boomed.

  Her voice was so deep it rumbled in Rin’s chest. She was certain it was a woman — but that voice made her second-guess it.

  “Madame R–Rue…” the bouncer stammered, his arms — previously flexed like tree trunks — falling to his sides like overcooked noodles. His moustache twitched like it was bracing for impact.

  “Oh, mon dieu, Fren, espèce de cornichon prétentieux!” Rue’s words poured out like cannon fire, half-French, half-English, all fury. “You stand here—ici—blocking the one man who could actually make this line look important? You imbécile colossal!”

  “I— I didn’t—”

  “Taisez-vous! Do you even know who that was?!” she bellowed, jabbing a jeweled finger toward Vix. “Le Commandant Vix! THE Commandant Vix Nepton of the New Grand Army! Not only the hero who will be remembered for generations, but the most handsome man alive! And you—” she looked the bouncer up and down with slow, scathing precision, “—with your moustache looking like two dead rats curled up for winter—think you can speak to him like some common voyou and bar him from entering?”

  The bouncer’s face went pale. “Rue, please, I didn’t—”

  “Silence! I should slap you with my handbag so hard your grandchildren will would unbirth themselves from embarrassment! You call yourself security? I have seen baguettes with more audacity!”

  By now, Rin was frozen somewhere between awe and terror. The “monster” from moments ago now shuffled his feet like a scolded child, eyes glistening.

  “I— I just—”

  “Non! You will open this door. You will open it vite! And you will apologize to Monsieur le Commandant before I make you shine every window on this building with your tears!”

  The man nodded so quickly his moustache nearly shook off, curling into himself as he fumbled with the velvet rope. Then, with watery eyes, he turned to Rin.

  “Girl! Fetch that commander! Quickly—before I am killed!”

  Rin gasped, nodded sharply, and darted away to retrieve Vix before it was too late.

  “Commander,” she purred, gesturing toward the now-open entrance, “after you.”

  “Uhh… th-thanks?” Vix replied, tilting his head in confusion.

  Rin followed close behind, fingers hooked into his shirt, her mouth slightly open. In her mind, she had just watched someone slay a dragon armed with nothing but words… and perfume.

  #

  The day went by faster than Rin expected. From the fancy French boutique alone, Vix left with nearly six bags of clothing for her. Each time they stepped outside, he flicked his wand to summon a swirling green portal, sending the bags away with a lazy gesture before stepping back onto the street.

  It became a rhythm: buy, flick, vanish. After clothes came a stationery shop, where he stocked up on pencils, pens, notebooks, binders, and folders. Rin begged for a stack of brightly colored sticky notes—utterly unnecessary for her studies—and Vix bought them without hesitation.

  Next came the technology store. Sleek shelves of polished glass and glowing displays surrounded them as Vix purchased a state-of-the-art communicator—the latest model, and one of the required materials for her first year at Kormadyne. Rin turned it over in her hands as they stepped back onto the bustling street, the hum of magic and traffic blending around her.

  Now, only one stop remained. The most important one.

  It was time to get her wand.

  This time, the sign on the store was a little closer to something Rin could pronounce and understand: Duval Wandsmith – Stones and All.

  Even the name carried weight. Duval was the wand shop of Paris — the kind whispered about in tea rooms and debated over in dueling clubs. Every French Minister of Magic for the last two centuries had owned a Duval wand, and owning one wasn’t just about magic — it was status, pedigree, proof you had arrived.

  “Here we are,” Vix said with his usual sigh. “Just grab a wand, and we’re done with this exhausting trip.”

  “I–I agree… it has been… exhausting.”

  “Means ‘tiring,’” he added quickly, smiling down at her.

  “R-right!”

  This time, Vix allowed Rin to hold his hand as they walked toward the shop. Unlike the others, this one was small. No line outside to bypass.

  The storefront was nothing like the flashy boutiques they’d visited earlier. No glowing billboards, no enchanted displays vying for attention. Instead, its pristine white facade was framed with wrought-iron scrollwork, the sign hand-painted in black and gold calligraphy. It exuded the quiet confidence of a place that didn’t need to call you in — you came here because you were meant to.

  Once they reached the main entrance, Vix knocked in an odd rhythm — once, then a rolling triple knock. The doors opened by themselves… not swinging on hinges, but detaching entirely from the top and floating away into the darkness beyond.

  “Rin, you won’t be able to see until your eyes adjust to the dark. Close them for me now,” he said before stepping inside with his own eyes shut. Rin followed, doing the same. When she opened them again, she saw a sight she could never have anticipated — which, to be fair, applied to almost everything in her life these days.

  The floor was lined with perfect black-and-white checkered marble. Dozens of stands filled the space, each attended by salesfolk dressed in simple vests, shirts, and gloves, moving with quiet precision as they presented wands to customers. And the number of customers shocked her — from the outside, the place looked abandoned. Inside, it was bustling: children her age, teenagers, even elderly folk all here for the same reason — to find their wand.

  Her gaze lifted, and she froze. There was a second floor… but no visible way up. She parted her lips to ask, but just then, a family in front of her began walking upward on invisible steps — climbing air itself with practiced ease, as if the stairs had always been there.

  A sudden flurry of wands zipped past her at high speed, whipping her hair into a messy halo. Vix flicked his wand, tidying it instantly back into place.

  “Excuse me!” someone barked from across the room.

  A man in a vest strode toward them. “Please refrain from casting spells inside the building! It’s strictly prohibited, and you will be removed!”

  “Sorry,” Vix said, unfazed. “I just needed to get someone’s attention. I’m looking for a wand for this girl — she’s turning eleven soon.”

  The man stopped dead, eyes widening. “Turning eleven soon!? Are you out of your mind? She has to be eleven before she can acquire one!”

  “I know, I know—but I’m just here to test a theory. And besides, she won’t wield it until she learns how at the academy.”

  “Kormadyne? This one is attending Kormadyne?! As if they'd let someone bend their rules!” he exclaimed. “Ha! Such irregularities are shunned at Kormadyne Academy of Magical-America! You—you must be trying to fool me! Of course! That’s precisely what’s happening!”

  Rin wanted to disappear behind Vix again. Her gaze stayed fixed on the man’s face, on the way he seemed to wear his prejudice like a badge of honor. Two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have even understood a conversation like this—but Vix had spent those weeks with her, diligently and patiently. Proving magic was real, teaching her to read and write, showing her courtesy, table manners, the difference between right and wrong—everything she’d need to be an eleven-year-old girl ready for schooling.

  “Just allow her a wand so I can report back with my completed mission. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Oh, Enforcer, are you? What business does the Grand Military have with a young girl?”

  Vix’s smile faltered, a vein pulsing on his forehead.

  “None of your business,” he said, forcing a casual tone.

  “Well, anyway, you’ve got nearly a three-week wait time ahead of you. I suggest you sign your name on this form to confirm your place before coming back.”

  “Three weeks?! But her classes begin in two!”

  “That is most unfortunate. Anyway, sign here.”

  Vix groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

  Here we go again…

  He reached for his wallet to pull out his badge—but before he could show it, a voice boomed from above.

  “Henry!”

  The vested man turned toward the sound, stiffening at the call of his name. A large man descended from the invisible stairs, leaning on a cane, with another man following close behind—this one thin, with sharp features and a cane of his own.

  Vix’s jaw clenched. “Of all places…” he muttered, louder than he meant to.

  “Ah! Commander Vix, my boy!” Benneth called, throwing both hands into the air as if expecting a hug.

  “Exactly. Now, Henry—why are you pestering the commander? Do you want to forfeit your paycheck? Because that’s the kind of attitude that’ll do it!”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Pr–Professor Duval! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know this was the commander!” Henry stammered.

  Mid-scolding, he suddenly whipped his head toward Vix, lowering his voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’re the Commander Vix?!” he hissed.

  Vix only shrugged, just as baffled as Henry, before the poor man had to turn back and face Duval’s full wrath.

  “It is! And you should have,” Duval snapped, his deep voice carrying easily over the crowd. “We elicit extraordinary customers here every day, every hour, every minute from open to close. I expect my staff to know who’s in the building—and who plans to visit!”

  “B-but the wait times—”

  “Silence!”

  Duval’s cane slammed against the checkered marble. A pulse of pale gold light erupted from the tip, washing over the floor in a rippling ring before fading. It wasn’t a simple cane—it was a staff, a finely tuned magical conduit directly linked to his mana pool.

  Every wand, staff, and focus was just that—a bridge. Sorcerers were born with mana, a well of raw magical potential inside them, but without a focus, the flow was wild, unfocused, dangerous. A wand didn’t just aim that magic; it bonded to its wielder, resonating with their mana pool to make spellcasting as natural as breathing. That bond was why a proper wand purchase was treated with ceremony… and why some sorcerers kept theirs for life.

  All around, customers had turned to watch the exchange. Duval, suddenly aware of the attention, waved them off.

  “Carry on, everyone! Just forgot my blood pressure tonics!” he boomed with a chuckle before stepping closer to Henry.

  “Your ass. In my office. After close. Understood?”

  “Y-yes, sir…” Henry said, thoroughly deflated.

  “Now, piss off!” He shouted causing Henry to practically sprint away to assist a different customer.

  “Commandant! To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said greeting Vix with a smile looking down at him. “And who’s the jolie petite fleur?” He said smiling equally warmly to Rin.

  Benneth finally caught up, standing directly behind Duval. He smiled in a near-cocky way as he stared down Vix. Vix’s eyes twitched before he shook it off.

  “This is Rin. She’s my… mission. I’m here to get her a wand.”

  “My my! Rin! Quel beau nom! Is she Nepton?”

  “Uh. No. That’s classified.”

  “Ohh, I see! I see!!!” he said before erupting into laughter.

  “You and your secret missions! How often you must carry yourself with grace despite the horrors you’ve faced for the sake of the world. I humbly apologize for the less-than-ideal treatment from my staff. I swear to you, I’ll see to it they are properly educated about your class and the respect you deserve!” He gave a deep bow.

  “No, seriously—it isn’t a big deal. Do me a personal favor and cut that guy some slack, alright? I’m just here for a wand. That’s all.”

  “Why, of course! I’ll personally assist you in your selection. But do be warned—she must not wield it until she reaches that bright, beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime age!”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s for her school.”

  The man began to ascend the invisible stairs. Benneth and Vix followed, while Rin remained planted on the floor.

  “Oh—Rin? If you imagine your next step will be a stair step, then it’ll be a stair step,” Vix casually informed her.

  It made no sense to her. How could it? Still, she lifted her foot and took a cautious step forward. To her surprise, it landed—on a step she couldn’t see. She pictured it: a matching stone slab beneath her foot. She took another step but nearly stumbled, catching herself on a railing that wasn’t there either… until she imagined it. And then she was holding it.

  Slowly, cautiously, she made her way up to the men waiting above on the second floor.

  “That… was terrifying…” she admitted.

  “You get used to it,” Vix said with a soft chuckle.

  Rin sighed, following them toward the back of the second floor.

  This stall was unlike any she’d seen all day. The wood was so flawlessly painted and polished it could have been glass, the orange luster shifting like captured sunlight whenever she moved her head. Gold inlays traced along the edges of the counter in looping patterns that seemed almost alive, curling and uncurling when she wasn’t looking directly at them. The air smelled faintly of cedar and something sweeter—like baked apples—making her feel both welcome and slightly drowsy. A row of crystal cases stood behind the counter, each holding a single wand on a pillow of silk so fine it shimmered with the slightest breath of air. Even the light here felt different—warm, deliberate, as if every beam had been trained to land exactly where it would make the wood and glass glow the most.

  Duval got behind the stall as Vix and Benneth stood on the customer side. He spread a luxurious sheep-wool mat across the table, then set his cane aside and leaned toward them.

  “So, how great is the girl’s mana pool?”

  “Rin?” Vix called out after hearing the question. Rin hurried over, letting out a startled squeak as he caught the back of her dress by the hem at her neck and set her onto a stool.

  “That’s… unknown…” Vix said cautiously, side-eyeing Benneth.

  “I see, I see. No matter. Petite fleur, please place your hand on the mat.”

  Rin complied, placing both hands on the mat with her palms facing upward, just as Duval had demonstrated.

  “Hmm… I see. Quite capable hands for a girl so young,” he murmured, before turning to face the towering cabinets behind him.

  Several long boxes began to glide from the shelves, floating into a slow, deliberate swirl above them. The wands inside pulsed faintly, as if testing the air. One by one, some boxes dipped toward Rin’s waiting hands—only to veer away sharply at the last possible moment, darting back into the halo.

  “Hm? How extraordinary. This class of wands will not do for her,” Duval declared.

  “What class are these? I’m not familiar with shopping for wands in Paris,” Vix asked.

  “These are forged with tiger hearts—deeply efficient, potent, and easily scalable to their wielder. For them to reject her—no… to flee from her like this—it means…” Duval’s eyes narrowed with intrigue. “It means they fear her.”

  Rin’s eyes widened. Fear me? What could that possibly mean? What did I even do?

  “That’s nothing like the shop in New York,” Benneth said, watching the wands’ behavior with careful interest as he waited for one to choose her.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Rin asked softly, her voice trembling. She kept her gaze on the restless halo of boxes, her hands trembling just slightly against the wool.

  “Rin,” Vix began, his gaze narrowing on the swirling boxes, “no sorcerer in the world chooses their wand. The wand chooses you. We’re simply searching for the one that fits you best but… it seems these high-grade wands aren't cut out for you...”

  “This won’t do!” Duval barked, snapping his cane in the air. The wands immediately zipped back to their places on the shelves.

  A new set launched forward—this time not in a halo, but forming two perfect lines that spun in opposite directions. The lines twisted and merged, becoming a single spiral, like a planetary ring or a whirl of inverted electrons.

  “Let’s try this—dragon bone core, or perhaps a phoenix tail-feather weave,” Duval announced.

  One by one, the boxes drifted close to Rin’s outstretched hands… only to fling away at the last instant, mimicking the behavior of the tiger-heart wands.

  “Am I… am I supposed to do something?” Rin asked, her voice unsteady.

  “Not yet!” Duval called over the hum of magic.

  Moments later, the last of the phoenix and dragon-bone wands retreated to their shelves.

  Duval exhaled through his nose. “Perhaps… something with a more celestial origin will do.”

  He gestured sharply, and only five boxes floated from the shelves this time. They hovered in a perfectly straight line before her, still as if holding their breath.

  They lowered before her, the air thick with expectation. Then—shock rippled through the room—all five boxes snapped open at once, their wands rising into the air like serpents uncoiling. One by one, they drifted toward Rin’s hands.

  Vix and Benneth both leaned forward, eyes wide. At last, it seemed, she might have found her match.

  But disaster struck. All five wands halted mid-air… then whipped back into their boxes with sharp, dismissive snaps, retreating to their shelves as if she had burned them.

  “Alright, what was that? Wasn’t that the highest tier you had to offer here?” Vix demanded, irritation edging into his voice.

  “Relax, Commander,” Benneth said with an easy smile. “You can’t rush these things.”

  “I’ll just take her to New York,” Vix grumbled. “Curtain Veil is a lot more reliable anyway.”

  “What?!” Duval’s voice cracked like thunder. “Curtain Veil—over my shop?! Absolutely not! I will get this girl the wand she needs—the wand she deserves!”

  With a furious sweep of his cane, every wand in the shop tore from the shelves, the air filling with a whirling storm of wood, light, and magic.

  Rin was left with her mouth hanging open. Vix tensed, one hand brushing the hilt of his wand, while Benneth clamped his hat down against the sudden magical draft.

  One by one, boxes shot from the storm of wands overhead—aiming for Rin’s head, her chest, her hands, even her stomach—only to veer away at the very last second as though she were wrapped in some invisible repelling field.

  “Mais… mais qu’est-ce que c’est que ?a?! Mes baguettes sont des laches?!” Duval cried, throwing his hands to the ceiling. The storm of wands whipped into a more frantic frenzy, then froze mid-air before retreating in unison back to their shelves like guilty children sent to bed without supper.

  Duval stood there, jaw slack, eyes twitching.

  “How… could this be…”

  “Performance issues,” Vix said with a casual shrug. “It happens.”

  “Non! Jamais! This has never happened before!”

  Vix eased back into a casual stance.

  “Well. So be it. Perhaps next time, Duval.”

  “Non! Wait! Just one moment… I may have something. Just give me a chance!”

  Vix tried to offer a smile, but it came out crooked.

  “O-okay…”

  “Yes! Thank you! Wait here just one moment!” Duval exclaimed before disappearing behind the booth.

  Seizing the opportunity, Vix turned sharply toward Benneth. His wand appeared in his hand with a sleight so quick Benneth never saw it happen. In an instant, the tip pressed against Benneth’s temple, Vix’s other hand gripping his collar in a locked hold that promised no escape.

  “What the hell are you doing here, you old fart? What are you playing at?” His voice was low, dangerous. A green light flickered in his eyes, his entire body still—no twitch, no hesitation—pure intent to kill.

  “C-commander! Relax! I was simply visiting my dear friend Duval! I—I got my staff from here!” Benneth stammered, raising his hands.

  “Cut the bullshit. What do you want with Rin?”

  “N-nothing! This is coincidence! I swear!”

  Vix’s eyes narrowed, ready to press further—but then, in one fluid motion, he released Benneth and holstered his wand. Duval emerged from the back not a second later, none the wiser to the exchange.

  “I… I do have this one wand,” Duval said, voice lowering. “It’s… a troubling one. But if no other dares to accept the girl, I fear this is the only choice.”

  “And if this doesn’t accept her?” Vix asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s… it’s… I–I don’t know… what other wand could accept her than… this…”

  “Is that… a corrupted core?” Benneth asked, trying to regain composure as he smoothed out his shirt.

  “Corrupted core?” Rin repeated, glancing at Benneth.

  “Oui… it is,” he replied, placing the box onto the sheep’s wool mat.

  Vix and Benneth exchanged a loaded look — the core was similar to Vix’s own wand. Duval removed the lid, revealing what looked, at first, like an ordinary wand. Its handle was a dark wood with a rough, matte texture, capped with dark-gray iron that caught the light. The shaft was smooth, polished, and reflected the warm orange glow of the booth’s lacquered wood.

  Duval set it gently on the mat. “Please… go ahead and try to… pick it up,” he urged, taking a few cautious steps back.

  Rin approached, eyes narrowing. The wand twitched — subtle, but undeniable — and stilled. She hesitated, her hand hovering above it. Her body leaned back as if bracing for it to reject her… or worse, lash out.

  The air between her fingers and the wand felt heavy.

  She reached, trembling, and the moment grew so tense she shut her eyes.

  Her fingertips brushed it — cool, almost metallic — and she gasped, closing her grip around it instinctively. Her hold tightened until she half-wondered if she’d crush it. But it didn’t resist.

  When she opened her eyes, the wand rested in her palm, unmoving… yet pulsing faintly in rhythm with her heartbeat. Something only she could feel.

  When she opened her eyes, the wand rested in her palm, unmoving… yet pulsing faintly in rhythm with her heartbeat.

  Benneth, Duval, and Vix stared at her hand.

  Duval’s face went pale. His jaw worked silently for a moment, as if searching for the right words — in any language — before his composure cracked.

  “Mon dieu… this… this is… sacré bleu… I need wine. Strong wine. And maybe a priest,” he muttered, patting his vest pocket in vain for a flask that clearly wasn’t there.

  Then, trying to recover his dignity, he smoothed his mustache and announced, “But of course… this is exactly what I expected. Exactement.”

  He was still sweating through his collar.

  Vix shot Duval a sideways glare before edging toward Rin.

  “…Rin? How do you feel…” His voice was cautious, each step measured as though he were crossing a wire strung over a canyon. His gaze never left the wand.

  “I… I don’t… it’s moving… it’s not moving, but it’s moving!”

  “That’s alright. That’s normal. It means the wand is talking to you right now.”

  “T-talking?”

  “Yes. Just… close your eyes and focus on feeling it.”

  “I—I’m scared. I never want to go wand shopping again!”

  Behind them, Benneth leaned toward Duval.

  “By the gods. A child wielding a wand from a corrupted core?”

  “Oui… frightening…”

  “I… I can feel it from all the way over here!”

  “Shh! Let the bonding take place! Don’t disturb them, idiot!” Duval hissed.

  “Rin? It’s alright. Just relax. Focus for me, alright? Reach out into your mana pool. Show it to your wand. Let it see you—all of you—and breathe…”

  He finished his slow approach, stopping just behind her, eyes still fixed on her hand.

  “Mister Vix…” she whimpered, her voice trembling.

  “Shh. I’m here. It’s alright. This is your wand, okay? Relax. You’re a strong, brave girl. And that wand—” his tone softened, “—it always respects and stands beside strong, brave people. Even if you don’t see it yet, it does. It knows your future. The courage you’re showing now, what you’ll do later—it sees all of it. That kind of wand is complicated. But trust yourself. Trust it. And when you’re ready… shout ‘Ripomora.’”

  Rin’s fingers tightened until her knuckles ached, a whimper slipping out before she forced herself to breathe. Eyes still closed, she suddenly saw.

  A midnight forest. A single tree standing alone in the clearing. Its branches shifted, curling into a hand that reached for her. The moment its wooden fingers brushed hers—

  “Ripomora!”

  Light exploded from the wand’s tip, a shockwave rattling the walls. The floor trembled beneath their feet as the shop’s lights flickered… then went dark.

  A low electric hum filled the silence. The lights sputtered back to life just as the wand’s tip began to swell with a dense, blinding orb of light. It grew brighter and brighter, pressing heat into the air—until, with a sharp fizz, it vanished.

  “I have never seen a Ripomora performed with such potency…” Duval breathed.

  “So yeah… Rin might have an affinity for curses,” Vix said, still eyeing the space above her wand, his hands hovering as though the light still lingered.

  “We won’t know for certain until her first week at Kormadyne…” Benneth murmured, his eyes fixed on her wand as though it might spark again.

  “Am I… is it over?” Rin panted, staring at what she’d just unleashed.

  “Yeah. It’s your wand. All yours…” Vix grinned, a chuckle rumbling under his breath.

  #

  Rin sank into a new bed—her own bed—this time. The mattress was impossibly plush, swallowing her in a way the stiff cot from Vix’s spare shed never could. The eastern house, he’d called it. The room felt too large for her, the high ceiling and tall windows stretching into shadows. Rich curtains framed the glass, and the faint scent of lavender clung to the sheets.

  She exhaled slowly, the breath carrying away some of the noise of the day. Her mind tried to keep up with it all—the endless racks of clothes, the crackle of the wand’s light, the strange French voices that still stuck to her ears.

  Thirteen days until her birthday. She knew the number only because Vix had mentioned it while counting down to the start of school. Birthdays… she’d never had one before—had never even heard of them until now. No candles. No cake. No memories to pull from. She understood the idea in a shallow, secondhand way, but the thought of people doing things for her because of it felt… strange.

  A whole day… for me?

  Fourteen days until school began. That date pressed on her more than the birthday ever could. Kormadyne Academy. Vix had described it in careful pieces—its sprawling campus, its magic-threaded halls, the trials she would face. A place where everything could change for her. He’d made it clear that most of what she needed to know about magic, controlling her own, and understanding the world would come from the school—not from him. The fragments he’d given her were only the bare bones.

  She sat up on the bed and looked down at herself. Gone was the same faded dress she’d worn for the past two weeks. Now she had on a soft black T-shirt and loose white shorts—clothes from a different world entirely. She pinched the fabric between her fingers, tugging it lightly. Part of her wanted to admire how it felt against her skin; the other part needed to make sure it was real. All of it was so far from what she knew. What she used to know.

  A knock at her door made her jump.

  “Rin, dear? Are you awake?” a familiar voice called from the hall.

  “Y-yes!” she said, jumping out of the bed. She ran to the door, but it opened on its own before she could reach it.

  In stepped the man from Duval’s wand shop, looking as pristine as ever.

  “Ah! There you are!” Benneth said, his smile wide and warm. He laughed with the kind of cheer that filled the room as he walked in, cane tapping lightly against the floor. With a gentle, almost absentminded motion, he patted her head, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Today must’ve been your first time shopping, correct?”

  “Y-yeah…” she murmured, reaching up to touch his hand. She wanted to pull it away, unsure of the feelings his gesture stirred, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “I’d say it was very productive! You’re ready to begin classes now—to be a normal girl.”

  “What even is it like… being a normal girl?” she asked, eyes fixed on the floor.

  Benneth’s smile faltered for the briefest moment before softening.

  “That’s fair. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now… would you?”

  He chuckled warmly, the sound like a small fire crackling. “It’s something you must find out for yourself. And this school will help ensure that for you.”

  “Is it… really what I need to do?”

  “Well, it beats being in some secluded desert for the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t know… I’m… I’m scared…”

  Benneth laughed again, full and kind.

  “Now that? That’s what it’s like being a normal girl.”

  “…that’s… terrible…”

  “Remember what Commander Vix said in the shop? You’re a brave, strong-hearted girl. Only you have what it takes to face your fears—and to conquer them.”

  “What if… what if he was wrong about me?”

  “Now, now… normally I’d say don’t doubt the commander. But you might be right.”

  “I… I am?”

  “I don’t know, dear. That’s for you to find out.”

  Rin looked down again, more confused than before.

  “You should know, even when you feel like the most lonely girl in the world—when it seems you have no options, no paths, no will to carry on—I will share mine with you. So will Vix. And so will the people you’ll meet who truly care for you.”

  She tilted her head at him. She’d had no one until now… and wasn’t even sure she wanted anyone.

  “The good,” Benneth continued, “will always triumph over the darkest, most twisted wills of the night. And you, Rin—despite the chaos and misdeeds you may face—only you can overcome them. People will look up to you, stand beside you, even walk ahead of you.”

  He knelt so they were eye to eye.

  “The world will always turn. You will always remain unsure. You’re young now… but as you grow, you’ll see things from a perspective no one else can. Because you get to be you.”

  She stared at him. He didn’t seem like the untrustworthy man Vix hinted at. His words felt genuine, his presence steady. Something in her was warming—maybe to his voice, maybe to his support, maybe just to the way he carried himself.

  She nodded.

  “Okay… I’ll try.”

  “That’s a good girl.” He smiled, ruffling her hair once more. “This world is unfair, as you’ll learn. But incredible people exist to defy that injustice—people like you, Vix, Staffire… and the friends you’ll meet.”

  “I… keep hearing that name…”

  “Staffire?”

  “Yes…”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s a bit of a clown, if I may say—but his heart matches Vix’s. Matches yours. He’s the kind of man who risks his life for the people he cares for… even strangers. Some people want more than power—they want absolute domination. It’s people like you who stop them. You’re special, Rin. Not because you’ve lost your memories or because you wield a powerful wand. You’re special because you can tell good from evil. And even if it’s blurry now, it won’t always be.”

  “Will I really?”

  “I wouldn’t be fighting so hard if I wasn’t sure.” His laugh was bright as he stood. “Here. Please take this from me—don’t open it until your birthday, alright?”

  Please take this from me—don’t open it until your birthday, alright?”

  He handed her a small, rectangular box wrapped in shimmering red paper with white stripes. A perfect white bow crowned the top, knotted so intricately she couldn’t imagine undoing it.

  She took it carefully, afraid to disturb the wrapping.

  “Y-yes, sir…”

  Benneth shook his head gently.

  “No ‘sir.’” He crouched a little so his eyes met hers again, his voice softer now—warmer than before. “Call me Uncle Remmy. Not because I expect it… but because I’d be honored to be family to you, Rin. Family isn’t always about blood. Sometimes, it’s about who’s willing to stand in the storm with you.”

  Her throat tightened, though she didn’t know why.

  “…Uncle… Remmy…” she repeated quietly, testing the sound of it like she was holding something fragile.

  His smile grew, not the grand shopkeeper’s grin she’d first seen, but something smaller—more sincere.

  “That’s the one. And if anything happens—anything at all—you come find me in the director’s office. No matter the time. I’ll always make time for my niece.”

  “…Okay.”

  “Good girl.” He gave her hair one last gentle pat. “Now, I’ll let you rest. Big days ahead. Oh, and please—do your best to hide that from Vix. He’s liable to do something foolish, like seize the package and hold it for an inspection. He’s too uptight sometimes.”

  She watched him leave, the red-and-white package cradled against her chest. For the first time in a long while, the word

  didn’t feel so strange.

  He was gone—leaving behind more gifts than the one she held in her hands.