Winx, the School of Magic

***

“We really do have to call the police and an ambulance…” Michelle said, massaging her temples. “Bloom, this boy has parents somewhere, they’re probably looking for him…” “I know… But Mom, maybe we could wait until he wakes up?” Bloom pushed his glasses up his nose. “He’ll tell us himself who we need to call…” “Amata, Fiammella is right, let’s wait a little, alright?” Violet said with a gentle smile. He placed a wet cloth on the blond boy’s forehead, stepped back, then turned toward the couch and asked: “But what exactly happened, Fiammella? Why are you both covered in cuts and bruises?” “And you smell like smoke…” Michelle sniffed, frowning.       While the family interrogated their son about the injuries, the couch creaked and a quiet groan followed. They all turned; the adults sighed with relief, while the redhead gave a faint smile, walked over, and began asking: “Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Why did you faint?” “It’s nothing… just magical exhaustion. Nothing serious. Where’s my staff?” Saran demanded sharply as he sat up. “I hope you didn’t leave it there?” “I don’t know, honestly…” Bloom lowered his head. “When we went back to that place, the staff wasn’t there. I’m sorry…” “Was anything else left behind?” Moon asked, brow furrowing. “A ring, maybe?” “Yes! It was lying on my book!” Bloom nodded quickly, rummaged through his hoodie, and after a moment pulled out a ring with an orange sapphire. “Is it yours too?” “Yes! Thank you for taking it!” the blond exclaimed, quickly snatching the ring and slipping it onto his middle finger. “I thought it had been stolen…” “You’re welcome… Sorry about the staff…” “It’s fine, it happens. You know, I also ofte—” “Ahem.” Michelle cleared her throat pointedly, her brows knitting together. “I’m delighted you’re not holding grudges, but now answer already: what happened to you and my son?” “I was attacked by an ogre and his minions,” Saran said icily, irritated at being interrupted. “When they tried to tie me up, your son arrived and saved me.” “Who? Repeat that, I didn’t quite catch it.” Michelle smirked. “An ogre? And let me guess, his minions were a talking donkey and a cat in boots?” “No. What do a donkey and a cat have to do with anything? And why would a cat need boots?” Saran frowned, completely lost. He turned to the redhead. “Is your mother ill, Bloom?” “N-no, Saran. Mamma was just joking…” Bloom murmured, giving his mother a reproachful look; she only glanced away. “If you misheard, I’ll gladly repe… repeat everything for you.” Moon placed his feet on the carpet and continued: “When I was traveling to Magix, my portal malfunct—” “That’s it. I’m calling an ambulance!” Michelle snapped, spinning toward the cabinet with the landline phone. “I don’t need to be a genius to realize this boy is mentally unwell and needs help.”       Saran’s expression twisted with annoyance, his eyes flashing dangerously. The woman’s disbelief grated on him. First the ogre ruined his plans; now, after Bloom had saved him twice, these Earthlings wanted to declare him insane. He was not amused.       Michelle grabbed the phone, but as she reached for the buttons, Saran flicked his fingers. A tiny spark of light burst from them, darted toward the phone, and in an instant, the device dissolved into a soft glow. When the light faded, the phone had turned into a marble statue.       Michelle’s eyes widened. She stepped back slowly, staring first at the transformed phone, then at Saran, who was smiling smugly, while her husband and son stood frozen in shock. Saran waved casually to regain their attention. “Now are you ready to li… listen?” The entire family nodded in unison. “As I already said, during my travel to Magix, someone disrupted my inter-dim…ensional transition, and I ended up here, on Earth. There, an ogre attacked me with his minions—they tried to take my family relic. Your son arrived in the nick of time and saved me. Thank you again, Bloom. And because I used up too much mana, I fainted, and your son helped me again.” “I see…” Michelle stared at him wide-eyed. When Bloom had dragged a burned, scraped-up stranger into their home, she had plenty of questions—but she’d chosen to wait. Now the blond boy was spouting what sounded like impossible nonsense, but the petrified phone beside her made it much harder to dismiss. Her mind swirled with questions, but she settled on one: “And what sort of place is this… Magix?” “Magix is a planet in the center of the magical planetary system. It’s a crossroads of countless portal routes. And there you’ll find the three most renowned schools for those with magical affinity: Alfea, Cloud Tower, and Red Fountain.” Saran settled more comfortably, resting his chin on his hand. “I was on my way to Alfea when trouble found me. I truly can’t imagine why someone would want my staff…” “Wait! So there are entire schools for Fairies?!” Bloom gasped, eyes huge. “And they teach real magic? So all the stories about fairies are real?! Then aliens are real? And vampires? And—” “Bloom, breathe! Why are you getting so worked up?” Saran laughed quietly and reached out, placing his hand on Bloom’s. “Ask your questions one by one so I can actually answer them.” “R-right.” Bloom nodded furiously, catching his glasses before they slid off. “First question: are you a real Fairy?” “Yes, Bloom, a real one. Well, more accurately, a Faerie*, since I’m a guy.” Saran chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. “And to answer what I picked up from your earlier whirlwind of thoughts—yes, two of the three schools teach magic. Red Fountain has a different focus. Fairies and Faeries like me study only in Alfea. Witches and sorcerers train in Cloud Tower. Our magical disciplines differ.” “Wow… But hang on, that monster called you a fairy, didn’t he?” Bloom sat down beside him. “Or did I misunderstand?” “It’s impressive you understood anything he said…” Saran rubbed his fingers thoughtfully. “He was speaking Interplanetary, and you don’t seem fluent… Anyway, yes, he called me a fairy, but only mockingly. Please don’t do that yourself. It’s disrespectful.” “O–okay, I won’t…” Bloom blushed with embarrassment. He had always called Moon a fairy in his head. Good thing he found out the difference in time. “I don’t even know how I understood you all… I couldn’t make out a single word afterward, and yet nothing changed…” “Perhaps right when your magical gift awakened, your magic gave you the ability to understand us…” Saran rubbed his forehead, then opened his eyes to find three stunned faces staring at him. “What? Did I say something strange?” “Giovane, un attimo per favore…” Violet cut in for the first time, lips pressed tightly. “Did you say our figlio has a magical gift?” “Yes. Correct. Bloom has magic, and quite powerful magic at that.” “And you witnessed this?” “Yes. Why all the odd questions? It’s as if you didn’t know. Ha-ha.”       Saran smiled brightly, twisting his ring. The Jackson family, meanwhile, sat in total shock. Thoughts raced through the parents’ minds—impossible, bewildering, terrifying—and all led to one point: their peaceful, predictable life ended the moment Bloom brought this strange boy through the door.       Bloom wasn’t faring any better. His mind was pure white noise. He had magic. He… had… magic. He had magic! This wasn’t a dream, was it?! The bruises on his knees and split lip proved it was real. “Saran, are you saying I’m a faerie, like you?” Bloom whispered. “Well, maybe you’re a sorcerer. But most likely a faerie—you don’t look very ‘life-hardened’ to me.” Saran snorted lightly, then grew serious, his amber gaze sweeping over the room. “You really didn’t know Bloom was a faerie? And nothing about magic either?” “Yes… That’s right…” Michelle whispered, sinking deeper into her chair. “I’ve never believed in magic or other intelligent worlds. But if what you and my son say is true… then I have no choice.” “Alright… When Bloom and I go to Alfea, I’ll ask Headmaster Faerion about this situation,” Saran said, absently turning his ring. Under his breath, barely audible, he muttered: “Magic hasn’t existed on Earth for ages… no contact, no information… But maybe there’s something I don’t know…” “What was that?” Michelle narrowed her eyes. “Was something unclear?” Saran asked in the same tone, smiling radiantly. “If you have hearing issues, I can repeat everything for you.” “No need to trouble yourself. I understood everything… except one thing.” Michelle smiled thinly and rose to her feet. “Why do you decide where my son goes? Don’t you think too highly of yourself, boy?”       She shouted the last words in fury. She could tolerate many things, but no stranger was going to whisk her child off to some unknown realm. “Bloom is not going anywhere with you! He’s staying home, safe! I don’t care that he’s a faerie. If he wants, he can practice magic here, where we can watch him. And you, tomorrow morning, will leave our house and go back to your Magix, and never return! Understood?!” “Mamma!” Bloom sprang up and stood between them. “Please stop yelling, your blood pressure—please, just let Saran speak!” “…Alright.” Michelle clenched her teeth but didn’t raise her voice again. “Let him talk, if he must…” “Thank you very much, Mrs. Jackson, for agreeing to listen…” Saran stood to his full height and walked past Bloom, beginning his explanation. “I understand your concern for your child, truly. No need to shout. But listen to me as well. Magic is not the sleight-of-hand common on your planet. Magic is emotion made manifest. It differs for everyone, but it is dangerous in every form. In a way, Bloom is unlucky. Because his element is Fire. And I trust you understand what that means—if your son is overwhelmed by strong emotions, everything around him may ignite. He could burn himself. In Magix he’ll learn to control it, to use it safely. This is for his own good.” Saran took a breath and continued. “I know you and your husband need time to discuss this. You may give me your answer in the morning. Then I’ll leave, and I trust you’ll make the reasonable choice.” Turning to the redhead with a gentler expression, he added: “Bloom, let’s talk about this in your room, alright?” “Y-yeah, okay,” Bloom murmured, still dazed, and headed for the stairs.       Saran followed, amused, up to the second floor. Michelle and Violet sat in breathless silence, staring at one another. In the kitchen, Kiko crunched cabbage cheerfully, utterly unbothered by the cosmic upheaval that had just entered their lives.

***

      The ogre hunched as he moved through the catacombs, trying not to smash his head against the low ceilings. He would gladly take another route—something on the surface, something built for creatures his size—but he couldn’t. So Knut, despite being an official resident of Magix with proper registration, had to drag himself through the ancient tunnels built beneath the three most renowned schools of the Magical Universe. And curse the builders for not thinking to make the ceilings higher.       But today, even his aching back and the fresh bumps on his head didn’t trouble him as much as one thing: he had failed his mission. And the mission, maddeningly enough, wasn’t even difficult. Take a staff from a first-year faerie! Any hired human from Earth could handle that, he’d thought…       Yet the boy had turned out to be anything but ordinary. He had given both him and the helpers he was assigned a beating. And even when the staff was almost in Knut’s grasp, another faerie appeared and ended the entire affair. He could just barely handle one faerie; two were out of the question. And with the scraps of dumnarra magic he had left, he couldn’t even rob a fruit stand, let alone fight two faeries.       After evacuating from Earth to Magix as quickly as possible, he began rehearsing what he would tell his masters when he returned without the staff—and without most of the monsters they had given him. Lost in these thoughts, he reached a wide hall where three figures were waiting. When one silhouette noticed Knut approaching, he flicked away his cigarette and spoke, stepping away from the wall: “Knut, you’re back… What kept you so long on that planet?” The voice was deceptively soft, but the cold undertones held no false comfort. He was angry—very angry—and if Knut said anything foolish, the ogre would suffer for it. “And why do you look as though a herd of centaurs ran you over? Where’s half the dumnarra? And where is the Solarian staff?”       Knut shrank into his broad shoulders, nervously adjusting the black glasses perched comically on his face. With a heavy sigh, he began: “Master… The reason for my delay is that—” “Where’s the damn scepter, you thickheaded ogre?! We don’t care about your reasons, idiot! Answer me: did you complete the job?!” The second silhouette roared so suddenly that the others flinched. His eyes gleamed with fury as he strode toward Knut. “Because of you we’re breaking curfew, you moron! And you still can’t accomplish something this basic! Why do we even bother with you if you’re this useless?!” “Enough! You can see he’s terrified—stop scaring him, both of you!” the third silhouette snapped, stepping between Knut and the others. The ogre nearly burst into tears from relief. This sorcerer was the only one among them who showed concern for him, and at least he wouldn’t punish him for the failed mission. “Look at him! He’s a mess. Why intimidate him further?! He does his job well, stop nitpicking. Knut, come here, I’ll take a look.”       Knut obeyed instantly, stepping into the faint glow the mage had conjured earlier. The young man adjusted his violet cloak and began examining the ogre’s wounds, occasionally flicking his fingers to heal them. The surviving dumnarra rubbed affectionately against their master, making sounds distantly similar to purring.       Lifting the largest creature into his arms, the silhouette turned and spoke, eyes shining: “But still, Knut—where’s the staff? What happened? I deliberately disrupted the portal on a planet where magic hasn’t existed for ages, so no one could help him…” “I was just… going to explain that!” The ogre gesticulated so wildly that the second silhouette in the dark maroon cloak barked a laugh. “The staff was almost in my hands—we almost had it! But just as I grabbed it, some Earth boy appeared! He attacked me and the helpers, and used magic on us!” “Magic?!” all three shouted at once. They exchanged startled looks. The ogre was dim-witted, but not enough to invent something like this—especially not right now. The first silhouette stared at Knut in disbelief and said quietly: “There hasn’t been magic on Earth in many years…” “I know, I know! I was shocked too! How could a faerie with fire magic appear on Earth? But he was there!” Knut reached into the pocket of his brown jumpsuit and pulled out a torn piece of denim. “One of the helpers ripped this from his clothes! Here!”       The silhouette in the dark blue cloak took the scrap carefully and held it up, a slow smile spreading across his face. His eyes glittered with excited hunger as he looked back at Knut. “You said that Earth boy came to the prince’s aid?” “Yes! They were together when I turned invisible and tricked them into thinking I teleported. I followed after them! The prince fainted, and the Earth boy dragged him away! They’re definitely together now!” “Excellent. Knut, well done. Take this fabric to the Sniffer. Take him and a couple more dumnarra and return to Earth. Remember—just retrieve the staff. Do not cause physical harm to anyone. We won’t get expelled from the academy because of violence against those people. Understood?” “Yes, sir! I understand! I’ll do everything!” Knut bowed quickly and dashed into one of the branching tunnels where the monsters lived.

***

“Did you draw this yourself?” Saran touched one of the many sketches covering the wall. “It’s truly admirable… clean lines, thoughtful composition… very well done.” “Really? Thanks, I guess… but I think they’re terrible.” Bloom let out a nervous chuckle, fingers twisting the hem of his red hoodie. “I’m not a professional or anything. It’s just a dumb hobby. My friend taught me… he’s been in art school for seven years. He kind of dragged me into it.” “Is that so? Then you’re selling yourself short.” Saran turned fully toward him, smiling gently. “Your friend is clearly talented, but so are you. I’m not trying to flatter you—just stating a fact. You do have talent. You should develop it.”       Bloom hummed quietly and bit the nail of his thumb. Right now, he cared very little about being complimented. His mind was a storm of questions, all circling around one thing. Saran exhaled softly and sat beside him on the bed, placing a hand over Bloom’s. The redhead twitched slightly, lifting his eyes to him. “Bloom, I can see something’s eating at you. And I think I even know what it is.” Saran smiled gently, taking Bloom’s hand into his. “I get that you don’t trust me yet—after all, we’ve known each other for what, two hours? But you have to understand, I’m the only one who can answer your questions right now. Go on. Ask anything.” “Sorry… It’s just… am I really a fairy? I don’t feel any different… Maybe you just imagined it? Maybe I’m not a fairy at all, just a regular human?” Bloom dragged his sad gaze up from his knees to Saran. Pushing his round glasses back up his nose, he continued, “In the books I read, when magic appears, the hero changes—inside and out. They become braver, stronger, get quests and knowledge dropped into their heads… But me? What did I feel? Besides fear for my life in that clearing—nothing. Are you sure you saw me use magic?” The last words came out quieter, and he stared at the floor, scratching his nose.       Saran blinked in confusion. After a couple of seconds of silence he burst out laughing. His bright, bell-like laughter filled the room. Bloom stared at him, bewildered. Saran covered his mouth, trying to calm down. After a few minutes he finally managed to breathe normally and grinned: “Great Dragon above, Bloom—seriously? I thought you were terrified because you are a fairy. Turns out you’re terrified that I was wrong! Bloom, your mind is an impossible labyrinth. You’re a mage! I saw it with my own eyes! Want proof?”       Bloom nodded rapidly.       With a flick of Saran’s fingers, the markers standing in a blue cup shot upward and merged, forming a giant pencil.       Bloom’s eyes widened, then he frowned. “Great. Now I can’t draw. Thanks.” “Idiot! Turn them back—I’m telling you to prove your mana control!” Saran ruffled his hair, still chuckling. “Okay, okay… but how? Is there some kind of method? Hand motions? Special spells?” Bloom hopped to his feet and started pacing the room, waving his arms in comically elaborate gestures. “Maybe Earthlings need an artifact? A wand? A staff?” “This is a disaster…” Saran sighed. With another snap, the pencil dissolved back into markers, neatly returning to their cup. “Bloom, do you even know what magic is? Explain your idea of it.” “Well… I don’t know… In books and movies, it’s a force that helps the heroes. Something that reveals their destiny…” “Great Darkness… this is worse than I thought.” Saran leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Fine. From the top. Remember what I told your parents in the living room?” Bloom nodded. “Good. Now listen. Magic is you. Your inner world, your wants, your emotions—your way of seeing life. All of that shapes your magical core. It leans toward light or dark because you lean that way. Magic doesn’t give meaning or destiny—nonsense. You are your magic. To cast spells, use imagination and emotion. Got it?” Bloom nodded slowly. “At Alfea they’ll teach you to do it subconsciously, without standing around summoning feelings like a drama rehearsal. Clear?” “Y-yeah… I think so… Thanks for explaining.” Jackson bit his lower lip, glancing aside. “All my life I thought I was just… ordinary. Not that I’m upset—I’m actually kind of happy I’m not as plain as I thought. But I never imagined I’d turn out to be a fairy. I always figured I’d finish school, get into university, start writing little stories, maybe become a librarian or an editor… And now… um… what is Alfea like? What does it look like?” “I’m not sure how to put it…” Saran breathed out softly. “But they’ll explain everything once you get there, so I won’t sugarcoat or dramatize things. If you’re asking what it looks like, I can show you.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out an ordinary postcard—a forest and a strange building painted on it. Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you curious where you’ll be studying?” “Of course I am… Can you enlarge it somehow? I’ve had nearsightedness since I was eight, you know—I’d rather not make it worse.” Bloom reached out to take the card, but Saran tossed it to the floor and burst out laughing. “Hey, that’s not funny! Bad eyesight is suffering, thank you.” “That’s not why I’m laughing… it just sounded hilarious.” Saran hopped off the bed and clapped his hands. The postcard trembled and grew several times larger. “Come on!” “Come… where?” Bloom stared, stunned. He’d been joking—and now the card was huge. Before he could gather himself, Saran grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him up, and dragged him toward the enlarged image. “Here! Just follow me.” Grinning, Saran stepped onto the postcard. The image rippled like water and began swallowing him. In seconds he vanished entirely.       Bloom stood frozen. After a moment, he took a hesitant step onto the edge of the card. Another step. And another. The picture rippled again. His legs began sinking—then a hand wearing a silver bracelet shot up from the image, grabbed his ankle, and yanked him downward.       Sound vanished. Colors swirled wildly. The air thickened into something like jelly, and Bloom drifted through it as if falling through a dream.       It ended abruptly. He landed squarely on his backside. Saran stood before him, looking thoroughly pleased, and behind him stretched a forest. A bright building rose among the trees—soft rose-colored walls, sky-blue roofs shaped like interlocking fairy wings framed in gold, gothic windows glowing faintly, and a white fence carved with runes he couldn’t make out at this distance.       Bloom stared with his mouth hanging open. “Where… are we?” he whispered. “In the postcard. More precisely, in an illusion based on the memories of the artist who once visited this place.” Saran helped him up with a smile. “These cards are usually sent after a student’s application is processed. Helps teens and their parents see if a school suits them. I’ve got a few more—from the courtyard and some classrooms. Want to see them?” “This is incredible!” Bloom darted off, running around to examine every detail of the illusion. After nearly twenty minutes he returned, panting excitedly. “This is amazing! I never thought I’d see anything like this in my life! Thank you! But… how do we get out? I don’t see any stairs…” “No stairs needed.” Saran smiled and jumped. The sky rippled and swallowed him. Bloom quickly mimicked him, and in moments he was back on his bed, grinning like an idiot. “So?” Saran asked. “Want me to show you more of those?” “No… My brain won’t survive that. That was enough visual overload for one day.” Bloom ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I bet studying there is expensive. My parents could never afford it. We don’t even have magic currency…” “It’s free. You’re not applying to Beta.” Saran smirked, sitting beside him. “That one’s expensive. Very expensive. Same program though.” “Ohhh, how many academies for mages do you guys have? No Hogwarts, right?” “Never heard of that one. There are lots of schools, but most are local.” Saran yawned and glanced at him. “Do you think your parents will even agree? Mine didn’t want to let me go when I applied to Alfea—and they’ve known about magic all their lives. Yours will definitely worry…” “I know. Talking Mom into it will be tough. Dad might agree, but Mom…” Bloom rubbed his nose sheepishly. “Still, I’ll try! I want to be special somewhere. Anyway—are there any problems with applying? Do I need documents?” “Actually… I have an ide—” A roar and a furious shout rose from downstairs. Both boys froze, exchanged a look, and instantly bolted for the staircase.

***

*Two hours earlier*       A bright flash lit up the dark, abandoned factory district of Gardenia. Two tall silhouettes and five small ones appeared in the middle of an empty street. The five damnaraf sniffed the air, baring their teeth. Knut kept glancing around suspiciously, wrinkling his nose every time his eyes landed on one particular member of their little procession.       Tall—nearly three meters—thin as a corpse, a monster loomed beside him. Long black hair hung like a curtain, hiding most of its body. A protruding lower jaw, a crooked hooked nose, blind milky eyes, huge pointed ears. Arms dangling all the way to its knees, purple-burgundy claws, blue skin stretched so tight that every bone showed. A Sniffer. A side branch in ogre evolution. Dim-witted, aggressive, but incredibly fast and with a nose so sensitive it bordered on supernatural.       Why in all realms had they saddled him with this? Knut wasn’t perfect, sure, but this brute could ruin everything by accidentally killing someone. And Knut would be the one blamed for the mess. He sighed gloomily and handed the “partner” a scrap of cloth. “Track this Earthling. Go on.” “Ughh…” The monster took the fabric slowly and brought it to its nose, inhaling deeply. “Faster!” “Tkhhh…” The creature stared at Knut with a dull, empty look, then after a sluggish pause nodded and returned to smelling the cloth. “Which direction?” “There…” The crooked finger pointed toward the residential area. “Let’s move.” Knut waved his hand and headed that way, keeping to the shadows of the alleys. The Sniffer led them, and the damnaraf trailed obediently behind.       After passing through three narrow alleyways, the Sniffer halted and lifted its head, sniffing. Knut rolled his eyes but stopped as well. The blue creature frowned, baring its teeth, then suddenly dashed left with a guttural snarl. Knut froze for a moment before cursing and sprinting after it, motioning the damnaraf to follow.       An hour of wandering later, the group emerged onto Street Fifteen. One of the houses gleamed with bright colors and loud noises spilled from it. The damnaraf noticed it first and squealed, scrambling behind Knut and the Sniffer. Knut jerked in surprise and shot a questioning look at the monster. “Where now?” “Don’t know…” “What do you mean, you don’t know?!” “The scent is gone… The boy vanished…” “When?!” “Recently…” “And why didn’t you say anything earlier?!” “You didn’t ask…” “For fuck’s sake! You idiot! Tell me immediately when something changes—don’t wait for a question! Clear?!” “Yes…”       A sudden roar of music exploded as a long limousine sped past, rattling the air. The monsters shrieked and ducked behind the house, noses peeking out cautiously. Once the noise faded, they chose—strictly for the sake of survival—to remain hidden behind the building and hope for a miracle.       Half an hour later, the Sniffer jerked upright, sniffing frantically and whipping its head around. Knut raised an eyebrow. “He’s back! The boy’s back! In that house!” The monster jabbed a finger toward one of the buildings.

***

“Costosa, please calm down… Nothing bad has actually happened… Our son simply turned out to be a fairy and—” “Nothing bad?! It’s horrifying!” Michelle paced the living room, waving her arms. “They’re dragging our son into some kind of madness! That boy was attacked! What if this happens to them all the time?! I will never allow Bloom to go who-knows-where! I’ll rebuild this entire house myself if I have to, but I will not let our son get hurt!” “Michelle! I understand perfectly, non farlo explain it to me like I’m a child.” Violet rose from the couch and took her by the shoulders. “Yes, it may be dangerous. But we have no idea what will happen if Bloom panics or gets scared! At that school, at least they’ll know what to do. This is for Fiammella’s safety!” “And what if they hurt him there?!”       The argument had gone on for half an hour. Both parents were worried sick, unable to reach a conclusion. Kiko finished his carrot, watched the escalating scene for a moment, then hopped toward the staircase. He was about to bounce upstairs when his ears twitched sharply and he turned his head.       Strange sounds echoed from the back door. After a moment’s hesitation, Kiko hopped quickly into the kitchen and sat up on his hind legs, listening. Silence. He shook his head—maybe he imagined it. But a sudden, deafening thud against the door shattered any doubt.       His beady eyes widened. He squeaked loudly and bolted toward the living room, where the adults had finally made peace and were drinking tea. He tugged frantically at a pant leg, squeaking insistently. “Kiko, stop it! You already ate. I’m not overfeeding you. Cut it out.” Michelle lifted the rabbit and set him on the couch. “Sometimes he seems smarter than us. And sometimes he’s just a very silly animal…”       Irritated, Kiko thumped the sofa with his paw, then jumped down and dashed back to the kitchen. Someone was about to enter the house, and he was determined to prevent it. He dragged a stool toward the door and stared at it with tense, rapid breathing. Heavy blows shook the wood. The sound grew louder, harsher. Kiko backed away in terror. The door cracked, the handle flew off and clattered on the tiled floor. “Kiko! What’s going on? What’s all that noise?!” Michelle huffed and headed toward the kitchen. “Can’t this day be peaceful for once…” “Maybe he’s hungry? No need to scold him—he doesn’t understand.” Violet gently tried to soothe her as they walked.       The door burst off its hinges. Kiko squeaked and hid behind Michelle’s leg. Knut dusted off his hands and, baring his teeth in a cruel grin, spoke in his native tongue: “Good evening, homeowners… Don’t want to damage anything. Just give us the staff and the prince…” “What the hell are you?!” Michelle shrieked, staring at the monsters crowding her kitchen. The Sniffer growled, advancing toward them, while the damnaraf howled excitedly. The couple backed slowly into the living room…

***

      Two teenagers hurried down the stairs. Saran ran ahead with lips pressed tight, while Bloom descended behind him, paling with every step. They halted on the last few steps—only to be met with a scene so surreal it bordered on slapstick.       Michelle Jackson, head of the local fire brigade, was storming around the kitchen armed with a gigantic kitchen knife. She chased a yellow ogre in frantic circles, hurling insults at him with the same accuracy she hurled cookware. The creature wailed, dodging for dear life as the furious woman promised him several varieties of violent demise.       At the same time Violet Jackson—florist, shop owner, and apparently part-time warrior—was fending off a pair of snarling damnaraf with nothing but a mop. She somehow managed to keep her flower pots from smashing, swatting monsters and saving begonias in the same movement. A blue-skinned creature lay unconscious on the floor nearby, next to the shattered remains of a chair. Kiko perched on the counter, squeaking like a tiny battle general and cheering for his humans.       Saran leaned on the stair railing and burst out laughing. The absurdity was unavoidable. Bloom, seeing his parents alive and in full combat mode, finally exhaled and laughed too.       The ogre noticed the blond teenager and immediately bolted toward the staircase like a panicked boar—just as a saucepan whistled past his ear.       Saran’s laughter faded. His face sharpened into seriousness. He slipped a ring off his finger and tossed it into the air. It spun rapidly, blazing with light, and fell back into his hand—no longer a ring but a staff.       Bloom gasped, instantly understanding why Mun hadn’t been angry with him earlier.       Saran smiled faintly and muttered something in an unfamiliar language. The ogre snapped back with a snarled retort, extending a clawed hand.       Rolling his eyes, Saran struck the floor with the staff. Golden light enveloped him, and in a heartbeat he stood transformed—just as Bloom had first seen him. Wings and all.       Only now, up close, Bloom truly saw him: wings like spears of sunlight, touched with a soft blue glow; faint patterns of constellations and tiny suns shimmering across them; a suit shifting from fiery orange to pale gold; hair tied in a high tail, thin braids woven through it with silver beads.       Saran straightened and leapt. His wings beat fast, scattering tiny sparks as he rose. In midair he delivered a sharp kick to the ogre’s face. The monster howled and staggered back. Clutching his bruised snout, he lunged with a vase raised overhead.       The fairy twisted aside and darted deeper into the kitchen. The ogre thundered after him with a roar.       A moment later Michelle burst out like a force of nature and immediately joined Violet in fending off the remaining red creatures.       Bloom shook himself out of shock, grabbed a broken chair leg from the floor, and rushed to help his parents.       The chaos lasted thirty long minutes. The lesser demons were reduced to shimmering dust; the blue-skinned monster was tied up with a blanket and the first pair of tights the family found. Someone had shoved an apple into its mouth as retribution for the broken door.       Saran returned a couple minutes later—scraped knees, split lip, and a face full of irritation. Muttering something very unflattering under his breath, he raised the staff. The blue creature dissolved in a burst of orange light.       He shifted back to human form, slipped the ring onto his finger, and faced the Jacksons. “I’m so sorry this happened. I didn’t think they’d track me here. Truly… forgive me.” “You half-trained mage,” Michelle snapped, hands on her hips as she surveyed the wreck of the first floor. “You’re going to explain every last detail. Why exactly were those things after you?” “They want my staff. Their leader ran away—coward that he is. I sent the one you caught to the monks; they’ll know what to do with him. I’m… really sorry.” “Are they going to show up again?” Violet pulled Bloom close, anxiety tightening her voice. “Or was this some one-time nightmare?” “I don’t know. But they might return. For revenge.” “Wonderful…” Violet sighed, rubbing her temple. “Tomorrow, before you leave, wake us. I want to see this school of yours myself.” “You mean…” Bloom’s eyes widened. “I’m going to Alfea…?” “Yes, Fiammella.” Violet smiled at him. “We think you’ll be safer there.”       Bloom’s face lit up. He flung his arms around his parents. “Enough,” Michelle said, though affection softened her tone. “We’ll discuss the rest tomorrow. Show Saran the guest room. And take your creature—he ate all our carrots.”

***

      Morning brought the remains of yesterday’s battlefield into sharp relief.       Violet swept shards of broken pottery across the floor.       Michelle fussed over Bloom, checking his clothes, his bags, his hair—everything except his teeth. Bloom, resigned, answered calmly and stroked Kiko, who dozed peacefully in his arms. Saran waited nearby, patient and quiet. “…Be careful no matter what,” Michelle murmured, hugging her son by the shoulders. “Call us the moment you can. Everything will be alright…” “I know, Mom. Seriously, don’t worry.” Bloom smiled and stepped back. “Saran, we’re ready.” “Good. Are you absolutely sure you want to come with us?” Saran asked, lifting his hand to the ring. “We are,” the couple answered in unison, gripping each other’s hands. “Perfect. Get ready.” Saran’s eyes sparkled as he raised the staff.       The floor vanished beneath them.       All four fell into a vast tunnel of swirling cosmic matter. Colors bled into colors; starlight rippled like liquid. Bloom clung to his suitcase handle, Michelle clamped a hand over her mouth.       Moments later, they landed on solid ground. Before them stretched an enormous emerald forest—and in the distance, towering above the trees, stood the ancient school of Alfea. “Welcome to Magix,” Saran said, slipping the ring back on.

***

      Darkness claimed the great hall like a living thing.       Heavy curtains smothered the windows. Dust and cobwebs buried the furniture. The air had the cold, damp breath of a grave. Only a slow, steady breathing disturbed the silence—a reminder that something here was not dead.       At the foot of the throne sprawled a spider-like creature, unmoving but awake.       Upon the throne sat Him: tall, skeletal, wrapped in dry black skin and dark crimson armor. Only thin lips and closed eyes were visible beneath the helmet. He slept, and his breathing filled the void.       By the wall, shackled in rusted chains, sat a cloaked figure. The hood hid everything except a waterfall of bright red hair spilling forward.       This place had been like this for ages—frozen, untouched, lifeless.       Suddenly, the dim sphere in the center of the hall cracked with a harsh sound. A blaze erupted within it.       The figure on the throne jerked awake. Bright, molten-gold eyes flared open. The creature at his feet scrambled up onto his arm, chittering anxiously.       The chained figure coughed softly.       A slow, razor-edged smile spread across the man’s face, revealing sharp gleaming teeth. “The Dragon Fire… At last.” His voice echoed like metal dragged across stone. “My wish is finally within reach…”

***