The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering golden light across the cozy room. Celeste ran her fingers through Cleo’s fur absentmindedly as she spoke, her voice carrying the weight of an old tale. 

Cleo, curled up beside her, rested her head on Celeste’s lap, her ears twitching slightly as she listened.

"The Emperor, Malachi Vanzar, was a meek boy… before everything changed that day," Celeste began. Her voice was steady, but there was an undertone of something else—something almost wistful.

Cleo, lulled by the warmth of the fire, let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, encouraging Celeste to continue.

"He wasn’t exactly a loner, but he also didn’t have anyone he could call a true friend. He was just… someone people could look to when they needed a helping hand or a listening ear. He seemed okay with this arrangement, since he liked to spend most of his time in the school’s library outside of classes anyway. But that all changed when he turned thirteen."

Celeste paused. Whether she needed a breath or if something about that moment gave her pause, Cleo couldn't quite tell. But then, the quiet was filled with the gentle sound of pouring water. 

A small, black puffball of fur floated over, carrying a silver tray with a glass of water balanced perfectly on its tiny head. The tray never wobbled, even as Celeste picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Thank you, Pluë," she said, placing the glass back onto the tray.

The little furball squeaked something that almost sounded like words before disappearing into the wall near the fireplace.

Cleo sat up so suddenly that Celeste barely had time to react.

"What's wrong?" Celeste asked.

Cleo’s eyes were fixed on the space where the tiny creature had vanished. She lifted a paw and gestured toward the spot.

"What. Was. That?" she demanded, her voice rising in disbelief.

Celeste blinked before letting out an amused chuckle.

"Oh, you mean Pluë? He’s a Waldkin pixie. They’re like magical maids that attend to us witches and wizards—though only in the dorms. Anyway, can I continue?"

Cleo hesitated for a moment before huffing in resignation. With a grumble, she laid her head back onto Celeste’s lap, though her tail still flicked in lingering curiosity.

"As I was saying," Celeste resumed, her fingers absentmindedly scratching behind Cleo’s ear, "students can only be admitted to the Tower under two conditions. One, they have a decent amount of magical energy inside their bodies. Or two, they have too much magic and need to be taught to control it immediately. Magical energy usually manifests in a magician on their thirteenth birthday, but on rare occasions, it happens earlier."

Cleo shifted slightly, rolling onto her side to face the fire.

"What about after your thirteenth birthday? Is it possible then too?" she asked.

Celeste’s hand briefly stilled. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, almost brooding.

"No. Never. If magic doesn’t awaken before the end of that day, then it never will."

Something about the way she said it made Cleo glance up at her, but Celeste had already shaken off whatever thought had crossed her mind.

"Moving on," she continued, "the Emperor was the second type of admission. He had too much magic. It wasn’t until his second year that he was finally able to attend Professor Vanhowe’s class to summon his familiar. When it was his turn, he summoned a magnificent tiger, its fur as white as freshly fallen snow, with golden stripes glimmering like water under sunlight."

Celeste paused for effect, a small smile on her lips.

"Just as he named it Nero, the tiger spoke out loud, saying that that wasn’t its name."

Cleo sat up so fast that Celeste barely had time to register it.

"Hang on," Cleo interrupted, "why couldn’t he attend the class before he turned thirteen if he had all that magic?"

Celeste chuckled, scratching under Cleo’s chin, earning a reluctant groan of bliss.

"No matter how much magic one has, they can’t be considered a true witch or wizard until they turn thirteen."

Cleo let out a soft huff but allowed Celeste to continue.

"Anyway," Celeste emphasized, "when the familiar spoke, the whole class freaked out, calling him cursed. Even the teachers grew uneasy, and soon enough, everyone in the school started avoiding him. He quit coming to classes not long after that, and somehow, he ended up in the Umbrafell Empire."

Celeste leaned her head back, gazing at the ceiling in thought.

"Honestly, thinking about it now, I have no idea how he became the Emperor."

Cleo absorbed this new information in silence, her mind working through the implications.

"There’s only one explanation for that," she murmured, almost to herself.

Celeste glanced at her curiously.

Cleo turned to meet her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper.

"His familiar must’ve been human… like I was."

Celeste’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked stunned. But then, as the idea sank in, she found herself nodding.

"That… makes sense. So it’s not a curse after all." She let out a sigh of relief before breaking into a smile. "Phew! You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that!"

She wrapped her arms around Cleo, pulling her into a warm embrace.

Cleo leaned into the hug but remained thoughtful.

"Maybe not in our case, but we can’t be sure. After all, there are good and bad humans. You don’t happen to know the familiar’s true name, do you?"

Celeste furrowed her brows as she pulled away, her nose scrunching up as she searched her memory.

"Sorry, no. Like I said, history isn’t my thing. I only know this much because Lily was always fascinated by it and used to tell me about it all the time when we were lit—"

A sudden yawn interrupted her words. As she shut her mouth, an ornate cuckoo clock above the fireplace chimed, marking the hour.

Midnight.

Celeste blinked blearily at the clock before stretching.

"That late already? No wonder I feel so tired. Come on, we can share the bed… unless you wanna sleep here?"

Cleo scoffed, already hopping off the couch.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to jump on that bed the moment I walked in."

With that, she bounded toward the large, inviting mattress and threw herself onto it. 

The plush fabric swallowed her whole, and she let out a sound of pure bliss, her tail wagging in contentment as she rubbed against the silky covers.

Celeste laughed as she approached, settling herself on the right side of the bed while Cleo sprawled on the left, reveling in the luxurious comfort.

"Good night, Celeste," Cleo murmured, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

"Good night, Cleo," Celeste replied, already drifting off.

As the room fell into quiet, Cleo lay awake a little longer, her thoughts swirling with the events of the day. Death, rebirth, a world of magic and wonder, and even gods themselves.

Her last thought before sleep finally took her was simple.

‘A girl can get used to a bed like this.’

To be continued…