Did she imagine it?
Slow. Even. Heavy footsteps.
Maybe it was just a student sleepwalking? But Emily couldn't shake off the warnings from the Deputy Headmistress—no one and nothing should be allowed into the Academy at night, no matter whose voice it spoke with.
Did that mean she wasn't even allowed to look into the corridor?
The sound echoed in her chest, making her heart clench. It faded, then returned, as if searching for something. When the steps halted right outside her door, a cold breath of fear swept through her.
And then—a voice.
"Emily..."
She recognized it instantly.
Hunter.
He spoke softly, but his voice cut through her like a blade, seeping through the very fabric of reality.
"Hunter?" she called, sitting up in bed.
No answer.
Only that whisper again:
"Emily, open the door..."
Paralyzing fear took hold. Something was wrong.
The pitch was perfect. But the intonation—off. As if someone was mimicking Hunter without quite understanding how a human voice worked.
Then the sound shifted.
"Emily, are you there?"
Charlotte.
Her heart pounded.
She didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"Charlotte?"
Silence.
No creaking doors, no rustling fabric, no movement.
Then—the footsteps continued down the corridor.
She remained still, listening as they slowly faded into the distance.
Only when they had completely vanished did she finally exhale.
***
The morning was pale and bright, the way it always is after a sleepless night.
The Academy dining hall buzzed with students, the air thick with the scent of coffee—so normal that the events of last night already felt like a dream.
But they weren't.
"It wasn't a dream," Emily said, spreading butter on her toasted bun.
Victor looked up at her, stirring his thick hot chocolate. He and Inès often sat together and went everywhere in tandem. Emily had gotten used to sitting with them. Third Faculty losers had to stick together. Today, the Benders had a lesson on Influence, while she and the others had another session of The History of Failures. Fitting.
"What are you talking about?" Victor asked.
"Someone was in the corridor last night," she said, folding the bun in half and squeezing it tightly. "They called my name. In my… friend's voice. Then Charlotte's."
"Oh," Ines murmured, biting carefully into her croissant. She and Victor exchanged glances. "Creepy. I heard footsteps last night too, but no voices."
"It wasn't my friend. And it wasn't Charlotte."
Victor leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
"So you're saying we have some kind of… mimic wandering the halls?"
"Or a ghost," Ines shrugged. "We had one in our village in Brittany. Harmless. We had to bring in a Bender from Paris to get rid of it, though—it still scared people."
Emily took a large sip of coffee, the heat burning her tongue but at least grounding her.
"I don't know. But…" she exhaled. "Charlotte's missing."
And that bothered her.
It shouldn't. Charlotte acted like an ice queen. She never explained anything. Never asked anything.
So why did Emily feel this cursed unease? Finally, she felt immense relief when seeing the blonde girl walk into the hall. After the night's corridor's noises, it was indeed a relief, no matter how Emily felt about the girl, that's what she told herself.
The day dissolved into lessons.
In The History of Failures, they studied an artist with a unique magical gift who was never understood in his time. He died in poverty, leaving behind paintings that now sold for absurd amounts.
The lecture was fascinating—but painful.
In Magical Law, all the new students gathered to hear the Deputy Headmistress speak about the Border. The lecture hall was vast but oppressive. High ceilings. Dark wooden desks. Towering bookshelves lining the walls. The students sat in neat rows, exchanging glances.
The Deputy Headmistress's voice was like stone—firm, unshakable. Her mismatched eyes were icy, though tinged with something like tiredness.
She was finishing her long and difficult talk on energy, matter, and streams of magic:
"And because of the risk of material and energy stream crossings, none of us—no mage, no Bender, no Shifter—can travel there, nor can we know what lies beyond. The consequences would be unpredictable—unimaginable. That is why the Temperance Police guard it so fiercely."
Finally, someone couldn't hold back:
"But… there is something there, isn't there?"
The question shot through the room like an arrow from a bow.
The Deputy Headmistress didn't even blink.
"It is none of your concern. The consequences are the only thing you need to remember." Her voice was as sharp as a well-honed blade.
But Emily had crossed it.
"What about portals?" someone in the back asked carefully. "Why do they exist at all, then?"
The Deputy Headmistress simply clasped her hands behind her back.
"There have been no known portals capable of breaching the Border for a long time. And any attempt to create one is a crime of the highest order."
Silence.
"And what happens to those who try?"
Now everyone sat stiffly, frozen in anticipation of her answer.
"They are sentenced to Eternity."
The words dropped like heavy stones into deep water.
But Emily knew what was on the other side.
Her world.
The one she came from. No portals, you say?!
***
After class, Victor and Ines suggested going to the Familiars' Market.
"I'll pass," Charlotte said without looking up. She had been avoiding Emily all day—barely seen, barely heard.
Emily shrugged, though something twisted inside her.
The market wasn't far. They descended toward the Seine, crossed the bridge, and wove through the crowded streets. The market was pure chaos.
Noise rose over the stalls like a living thing—loud vendors, stray spells crackling in the air like lightning, the rustle of wings, the tap of claws against wood and stone. The place reeked of both magic and disorder.
The buzz of magical current, pulsed through the market, seeping under her skin.
"Oh, this place is enchanting," Ines smiled.
Victor snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"And full of idiots buying demons on clearance."
Victor had been raised by a Bender father and a non-magical mother somewhere in northern France. He knew Paris better than any of them—said his father and grandfather used to bring him here.
They plunged into the crowd.
The place swarmed with mages and their future companions. A tall man in a black cloak carried a giant snake over his shoulder, its forked tongue gleaming like liquid gold. A girl in a hat held a dwarf phoenix on her arm, which dissolved into flames the moment she blinked.
And everywhere—voices, voices, voices.
"A true witch can't go without a raven!"
"Hey, hey, look at this dragon! Only three hundred!"
"This oneiric snake will show you your enemy's dreams!"
"Only today! Shadow familiars that conceal your thoughts from the Mental Benders!"
Emily tried to listen, to pick out words, to search the faces—looking for something that was hers.
A familiar.
Every mage had one. A companion. A protector. A link between themselves and the magical world.Finding a familiar didn't mean just buying one. The creature had to choose you as much as you chose it.
Emily remembered the lesson.
"A familiar is not a servant," the deputy headmistress had said, her voice sharp as a blade. "It is an extension of your magic. And your choice determines who you will become."
A familiar grants power. It can amplify spells or suppress them. It can live with only one master.It cannot be changed. To reject a familiar was to reject a part of oneself.
Emily walked slowly, pushing through the crowd. The noise around her faded into the background, her mind slipping past all the calls, the promises, the shouts.
And then she saw it.
A tiny black kitten.
It sat near the edge of a wooden stall. Its paws were nearly invisible in the darkness, only its eyes gleamed—filled with an intelligence that didn't belong to kittens.
Something clenched inside her.
The kitten approached her hand on its own.
"Oh, this one?" The vendor, a sullen man with sunken eyes, raised his head. "Take it. It chooses, not me."
The kitten leaped into her arms. Its tiny claws latched onto her sleeve—lightly, not painfully.
Emily felt the tension inside her ease. A void, filling.
She carefully ran her fingers through its soft black fur. The kitten nestled into her arms, tucking its paws.
"Found yours too?" Victor's voice pulled her back to reality.
She looked up.
Ines stood beside her, cradling something soft and violet with wings. Victor leaned against a post, a golden, translucent iguana poking out of his pocket.
"Yeah," she whispered.
They didn't just leave the market with familiars. The remnants of their scholarship, given specifically for acquiring a familiar, didn't stay in their pockets for long.
"We're just looking," Ines had said as they passed a bright red tent with a sign that read For the Most Passionate Mages.
"Yeah, just looking," Victor had nodded, peering inside.
Emily already knew then—this wouldn't end well.
Inside, the magic was different. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla and musk. The vendor—a sultry dark-haired witch in a wine-colored dress—lifted her eyes and smiled.
"Oh, newcomers? How lovely."
"We're just looking," Emily rushed to clarify, but Ines was already at the display case.
There was a lot.
Magical bracelets that transmitted every touch of your hand across any distance.Feathers that sought out the most sensitive spots on your body and began their… exploration.
"This is cool," Victor picked up a thin silver wand, a sphere of energy shimmering at the tip. "What is it?"
"Hmm?" The witch tilted her head. "Oh, that's our latest invention! An elemental resonator. It adapts to your magic and…"
She leaned in and whispered something in his ear.
Victor turned crimson.
"But… why?"
"Why not?" the witch shrugged.
Ines was already holding a vial of violet liquid.
"And this elixir?"
"Oh, that's for those who want to prolong pleasant sensations. Like experiencing an orgasm for half an hour."
Ines looked at Victor with interest.
"I'd take it."
"Isn't that a bit much?" Emily laughed.
Half an hour later, they left the tent with empty pockets. Ines took the elixir, Victor grabbed the silver wand ("for research purposes only!"), and Emily couldn't resist a set of enchanted rings that promised to make contact even more interesting.
They stood in the middle of the street, the wind playing with their empty wallets.
"I hate us," Emily concluded.
The kitten purred contentedly in her pocket, unaware that its owner had just spent her last money on highly questionable magical experiments.
After the market, they stopped by a bar, and Emily finally had a great time. They laughed, argued, drank, joked… Only as they left, rushing to get back to the academy before curfew, did Emily remember that Charlotte was probably all alone—and felt a pang of guilt.
Charlotte wasn't at fault for her magic. She protected people however she could.
***
That evening, after a long shower, Emily unbraided her damp hair and looked at her purchase.
She slipped the first ring onto her finger—a beautiful one with a ruby gemstone. The enchanted accessory shimmered softly, and the moment she brushed her left breast with her hand, she felt another hand… touching her right.
A hand that mirrored her movements exactly.
She twisted and tugged her nipple slightly. The same sensation happened on the other side.
Emily barely stifled a gasp and a soft moan. It was thrilling…
She stroked herself a little more, her hand drifting lower, already imagining what would happen if she put on all four rings—would it feel like eight hands touching her at once? Oh…
And then—footsteps in the hallway.
Her heart stopped.
Then—a SCREAM.
Charlotte.
Emily rushed to the door.
She found her pale, pressed against the wall, eyes wide.
And before her, in the darkness, something moved—something that should not exist.