Shya's days were neatly divided between ghungroo bells and flower arrangements.
Morning kathak practice filled the Gill townhouse with rhythmic claps and sharp ankle jingles, while afternoons were consumed by her mother's unending "Ladies' Luncheon for Charity."
Every conversation revolved around things like "pastel linen versus cream" or "centerpieces that whisper luxury."
By the end of each day, Shya would collapse on her bed, hair in a messy bun, muttering, "I miss essays. Actual essays."
Arya, freshly home from his day camp, was an unstoppable comet. His fascination with Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them had only grown.
He'd copied passages into his own notebook — doodling Bowtruckles, Nifflers, and the occasional fire-breathing "space dragon."
"I bet Newt Scamander's wand was made of comet core," he told his sister one evening, sprawled on her carpet.
Shya grinned. "And his patience made of steel."
He nodded solemnly. "Just like yours."
Across London, Talora's summer was its own polite battle.
Madame Beauchamp's voice echoed through the Livanthos townhouse: "Chin up, back straight, smile as if you invented good breeding."
Talora endured her etiquette classes with grace — mostly.
When Tristan returned from hockey camp in Canada, however, chaos reigned.
He'd grown an inch, lost a tooth, and gained infinite confidence.
"Guess who scored a hat trick against the Saskatoon team?" he'd shout, still wearing his skates inside.
"Guess who's about to lose shoe privileges?" Talora replied, laughing despite herself.
So when the owls came — bearing Cassian and Roman's familiar handwriting — neither girl hesitated.
To our esteemed companions and their curious siblings,
You are formally invited to an outing most rare — the Scamander Magical Conservation Reserve.
Six tickets, one miracle.
My Aunt Narcissa obtained them while arranging a visit for Draco and his friends, and she was... persuaded... to add a few extra names.
Saturday. Eleven sharp. Meet at the Leaky Cauldron.
Bring sensible shoes and un-sensible curiosity.
— Cassian Black
(and Roman Nott, who is threatening to write his own postscript if not credited)
Saturday dawned bright and soft, the kind of London morning that felt almost enchanted.
At half-past ten, Henry parked the glossy Livanthos car outside the Leaky Cauldron. Talora and Tristan stepped out — Tristan immediately adjusting the hockey pin on his jacket as though it were armor.
Henry held the door open. "Do you have everything, Miss Talora?"
"Just my patience," she said with a smirk. "That should cover it."
Barely five minutes later, Milos arrived with the Gill siblings. Arya practically flew out of the car, backpack clinking with what sounded like a dozen notebooks.
Milos gave Shya a knowing smile. "Try not to let him adopt any dragons."
"No promises," she said, tugging Arya's sleeve. "Come on, space cadet. Let's find the boys."
Inside, the Leaky Cauldron buzzed with its usual hum — candle smoke, floating quills, and the scent of old parchment.
Cassian and Roman were waiting at their usual corner table, dressed in what could only be described as "respectable chaos": Cassian's navy jacket perfectly pressed, Roman's shirt half untucked like rebellion in motion.
"Welcome to the gateway of wonder," Roman announced grandly, gesturing at the table — where six silver-edged tickets lay fanned out like treasure.
"Six?" Talora asked, arching a brow.
Cassian nodded. "Two girls, two boys, two brothers. I planned ahead."
"Efficient and considerate," Shya said approvingly. "Is this new?"
Roman grinned. "Temporary."
Tristan leaned over the tickets reverently. "These cost like… thirty galleons each!"
Cassian smirked. "Worth every knut."
Arya's eyes were wide as stars. "Newt Scamander's family runs this, right? Right?"
"Yes," Cassian said, amused. "And if you faint, please do it away from the Thestrals."
Griffen Way
They stepped through the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron and followed the boys past Diagon Alley's familiar chaos — down a narrow, cobbled side lane that shimmered faintly at the edges of sight.
"Griffen Way," Roman said softly. "Hidden in plain view. You can't find it unless you believe it exists."
The air rippled like heat on summer pavement, and then the world changed.
The street curved gently uphill, lined with slender spires of silver glass and twisting stone facades draped in ivy that glowed faintly gold.
Floating candles drifted lazily above café tables suspended midair.
A florist arranged bouquets that murmured compliments to their buyers.
A toy shop displayed miniature dragons chasing golden snitches through the window.
Arya spun in a slow circle, whispering, "It's alive."
Tristan gawked. "It's—holy—look at that!"
He pointed toward a patisserie where the éclairs sparkled faintly, each dusted with edible starlight.
Shya leaned close to Talora, her grin unguarded. "Okay… this is actually better than Harrods."
Talora nodded. "Don't let my mother hear you say that."
Cassian gestured toward an ivy-covered gate at the far end. "That's our stop."
The bronze archway shimmered as though it were breathing. Runes glowed faintly across its surface, and ivy leaves trembled even though there was no wind.
THE SCAMANDER MAGICAL CONSERVATION RESERVE
Where Wonder Finds Sanctuary.
The six of them stepped through—
and London vanished.
Sound came first. A low, pulsing hum—alive, steady, like a giant's heartbeat buried under the earth. Then light: green and gold threading through the mist.
The ground beneath them glowed faintly with every step. The air smelled like rain and something sweet, almost electric. Above them, islands floated lazily in the sky, tethered by vines that sparkled with light.
"Okay," Roman breathed, turning in a slow circle. "This officially beats the museum."
Talora's mouth quirked. "So noted. Shall we add it to the growing list of things that make you speechless?"
"I'm not speechless," he said. "I'm… selectively articulate."
Shya tilted her head, sunglasses sliding down her nose. "You're full of it, is what you are."
Arya's eyes were enormous, darting from a glowing fern to a hovering crystal moth. "It's like Fantastic Beasts came to life! He described this—well, not this, but something like it! I told you he wasn't exaggerating!"
Tristan blinked at him. "You've read Fantastic Beasts six times. You also sleep with it under your pillow."
Arya sniffed, unbothered. "Research. For when I write the updated version."
Their guide, Elara Greenpot, smiled, her copper-green robes shimmering faintly. "We encourage that kind of ambition here, young one."
Cassian looked up at the floating islands, brow furrowed in thought. "How is this even possible? The magic field should collapse under its own—"
Elara raised an amused eyebrow. "You'll find the Reserve prefers to defy logic. It's healthier that way."
The air grew thick and warm as they entered a stretch of wetlands glowing faintly blue. Giant lily pads the size of tables floated lazily in the water, their edges dusted with golden pollen. Every few seconds, something beneath the surface shifted with a ripple and a flash of light.
A group of Nifflers scurried past, chittering excitedly. One darted straight toward Roman, making a beeline for the silver buttons on his jacket.
"Oi! Hands off!" he laughed, trying to pry it away. It hung stubbornly by its little claws.
Elara chuckled. "That one's called Pip. He has a weakness for shiny things—and pure-blood tailoring."
Talora leaned down and offered Pip a copper coin from her pocket. The Niffler took it, puffed up with delight, and scurried off.
"You bribed it," Roman accused.
"I negotiated," she replied primly.
The water rippled again. A sleek head rose—scales like liquid emerald, mane of reeds trailing light.
Arya clutched Tristan's sleeve. "Ohmygosh—it's a Kelpie! Page fifty-six! It says—"
Shya laughed. "We know, we know. You've memorized it."
Elara smiled. "She's quite gentle, so long as you stay out of the water."
Talora stepped forward, voice soft. "She's beautiful."
Roman looked at the creature's glowing mane. "She's terrifying."
"Most beautiful things are," Talora said simply, and the Kelpie, as if agreeing, dipped its head.
The next path led them into twilight. The trees glowed faintly silver, and the air chimed with the soft sound of living leaves.
Tiny Bowtruckles peeked from the branches, their twig-thin fingers twitching nervously. One, braver than the rest, scuttled down a trunk and hopped onto Arya's shoulder.
He froze. "It's—oh my gosh—it's Pickett! Or—or one of Pickett's cousins!"
Elara smiled. "They like those who ask questions more than they talk. Which makes you a rare visitor indeed."
Arya stood perfectly still while the Bowtruckle tilted its head, then patted his cheek before darting off.
"Did you see that?" he said, spinning toward Shya. "He liked me!"
Shya grinned. "You've finally found someone who appreciates your encyclopedic enthusiasm."
A silvery blur moved through the trees. A Demiguise appeared, eyes luminous, then vanished again like a trick of light.
Tristan gasped. "Where'd it go?!"
Arya launched into explanation. "They manipulate refracted light through adaptive fur—basically built-in invisibility!"
Roman smirked. "You say that like it's normal."
Arya shrugged. "It is here."
They reached a clearing with a black mirror of a lake. The air around it hummed faintly, drawing them closer.
Elara gestured. "The Mirror-Mere. It shows the color of your magic—not destiny, just energy. Look, if you like."
Cassian stepped forward first. The reflection that bloomed beneath him was deep gold edged in silver, pulsing in calm, deliberate rhythm.
Shya crouched beside him. Her reflection flared from midnight blue into bright cobalt, light crackling like electricity along its edges.
"Whoa," Arya whispered. "That's the coolest thing I've ever seen."
Cassian just murmured, "It suits her."
Shya gave him a sideways look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing bad," he said, smiling faintly. "Just… right."
Talora leaned in next, her reflection pale emerald and soft white, glowing gently like morning light.
Roman crouched beside her, and his rippled copper-red with flashes of warmth that looked almost like laughter caught in color.
"See?" he said. "I glow."
Talora rolled her eyes. "You flicker."
The path wound up through a bridge woven from vines. Mist drifted low, cool and soft. Within it, dark shapes moved—Thestrals, silent and skeletal, their wings translucent.
Elara's voice gentled. "Can everyone see them?"
Shya and Cassian nodded quietly.
The others peered into nothing.
"I don't see anything," Tristan said, sounding cheated.
"That's alright," Elara said. "It means you haven't known the kind of loss that makes them visible. It's a blessing."
Arya reached into empty air—and to everyone's shock, something invisible brushed his palm. His eyes went wide. "I can feel it!"
Shya smiled softly. "They like brave hearts. You've got one."
Elara handed each of them a bowl of shimmering fruit. "Offer it with steady hands."
Tristan giggled when his fruit vanished. "It tickled!"
Arya looked reverent. "This is so going in my notes."
Roman grinned. "You're writing a book; I'm writing a survival guide."
Downward the path curved, until the air turned cool and glittering. They stepped into a cavern lined with giant crystals. Light rippled through them in slow pulses, illuminating a pool below.
"The Heartstone," Elara said. "It keeps the Reserve alive."
Dozens of tiny Will-o'-Wisps floated in the air, shedding gold dust like falling stars.
Arya chased one, eyes wide. "It's warm!"
Tristan reached out too; the wisp landed briefly on his sleeve, leaving a smear of light. "I think it likes me better."
"Do not start a popularity contest with sentient fire," Shya warned, though she was laughing.
They climbed into sunlight—and sound.
Hundreds of birds filled the sky: Phoenixes trailing flame, Fwoopers streaking rainbow, Thunderbirds rippling thunder through the clouds. The air itself seemed to sing.
A young Phoenix landed on the railing beside Arya, feathers burning gold to crimson.
"You're real," he breathed.
The Phoenix blinked and released a tear that shimmered into sparks when it hit the ground. Arya's jaw dropped. "I'm adding this to Chapter Seven!"
"Of what?" Cassian asked, amused.
"My book!Fantastic Beasts: The Second Edition!"
Tristan muttered, "I want royalties."
By the time they returned to the main archway, the sky above the Reserve had deepened into soft indigo. Fireflies drifted through silver flowers; the Mirror-Mere reflected a thousand tiny stars.
Arya and Tristan threw pebbles into it, laughing when the ripples turned into constellations.
"I'm definitely coming back," Arya declared. "I'll work here someday."
Tristan grinned. "I'll be your assistant. Or your boss. Haven't decided yet."
Talora looked at them, smiling. "You two sound like you're building a dream."
Roman shrugged. "That's what summer's for, isn't it?"
Elara met Shya's gaze. "You all carry wonder well. Don't let anyone take it from you."
As they stepped back through the archway, the colors folded inward, the sound dimmed—
and London returned.
The evening light was ordinary again—buses roaring, shop windows glowing—but somehow it all felt brighter, more alive.
Tristan turned to Arya. "Do you think Newt Scamander saw us?"
Arya grinned. "If he did, he's probably jealous."
Shya laughed, the sound bubbling through the dusk. "Come on, geniuses. Next stop—snacks before we go home."
And the six of them wandered down Griffens Way, still buzzing from the sanctuary's wonder.
The evening light caught on floating signs and flickering lamps, bathing the cobblestones in gold and rose. It was less chaotic than Diagon Alley — sleeker, calmer, filled with magical boutiques and cafes that glowed like jewels.
Tristan and Arya pressed their faces against nearly every window: broom emporiums, potion supply shops, even a Quidditch gear boutique with bludgers lazily circling their glass case.But it was the shimmering storefront with the gold script that caught Shya's eye.
AUREOLE: Magical Cosmetics for the Modern WitchThe letters rearranged themselves playfully, spelling Beauty that Lasts Beyond Midnight.
Shya stopped dead. "Oh my Gods." Talora blinked. "What?" "That," Shya said, pointing dramatically. "We're going in."
The boys groaned in unison."Please no," Arya muttered. "Not makeup." Tristan crossed his arms. "You promise this wouldn't take long!" Shya ruffled his hair. "Then don't wait. Go find something that explodes."
Roman smirked. "Gladly." Cassian gestured down the street. "Florean & Finch's Confectionarium. Come on, lads."
Arya's mood immediately improved. "Desserts?""Desserts," Cassian confirmed."Alright," Tristan said gravely. "But we're getting at least two scoops each."
"Have fun," Talora called after them. "Try not to explode!"
When the boys disappeared into the pastel-lit shop, the girls turned back to the door.For a moment they hesitated, excitement flickering like static between them.
"Ready?" Shya whispered.Talora smiled. "Not remotely."
The shop shimmered like a spell held in suspension.
Inside, soft music played — strings that sounded halfway between harp and hummingbird. Shelves drifted lazily, each one displaying bottles and compacts that gleamed like captured moonlight. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and ozone, threaded with the cool bite of something alchemical.
"Okay," Shya breathed, turning in a slow circle. "I think I've died and woken up in Witch Weekly's dream issue."
Talora gave a quiet laugh. "You actually read Witch Weekly now?"
"Obviously," Shya said, pretending offense. "It's for research."
"Research on what?"
"Looking fabulous under pressure."
A witch in robes the color of rose-gold smoke appeared from behind a curtain. Her hair floated slightly, like it refused to obey gravity. "Welcome, dears! First visit?"
"Yes, ma'am," Talora said politely, while Shya nodded so fast her earrings jingled.
"Then you'll want the Charms-Infused Beginner Line."
The witch waved her wand and a counter drifted closer, bottles aligning themselves like soldiers. "All our products are enchantment-balanced — nothing harmful, all reversible, and charm-safe for pre-OWL students."
"Charm-safe?" Talora echoed.
"Meaning," the witch said with a knowing smile, "you could duel, cry, fly through a thunderstorm, or fall asleep in Potions fumes — and you'd still look impeccable."
Shya gasped. "So… rain-proof, test-proof, and Snape-proof?"
"Exactly."
They moved to the displays. A wall of shadows shimmered, each compact showing a miniature moving scene.
Talora reached toward one labeled "Hippogriff Dawn." When she opened it, faint bronze and gold light drifted out — like sunrise breaking through mist. "This one looks alive," she whispered.
"That's because it is," the witch explained. "A conjured illusion. As you wear it, the shadows shift like light across wings."
Shya squealed softly, already elbow-deep in the brighter section. "Look at these!" she said, holding up a pot labeled "Ocean's Heart." Inside, waves rolled gently, glitter catching like sunlight on water. Another, "Starlit Comet," sent tiny streaks of silver shooting across a dark base.
"Can I—?" she began.
"Of course," the witch said, summoning two enchanted brushes that hovered expectantly.
The first dabbed a streak of cobalt shimmer across Shya's lid. It glowed faintly, like living neon. She blinked, awestruck. "Oh. My. Merlin."
Talora pressed a hand to her mouth to hide a grin. "You look like a very determined lightning storm."
"I am a very determined lightning storm."
Talora tried one of the subtler palettes, a mix of rose and warm gold. The color settled onto her skin like sunlight through champagne. "It's… soft," she said, half-whisper.
Shya nodded seriously. "You look like you're about to own a castle and fire someone politely."
At the next counter, a sign read: "Ever-Stay Collection – Because Spells Fail, Style Doesn't."
Talora picked up a tube of liner that shimmered obsidian. "What's this one do?"
"Waterproof, tear-proof, potion-proof, and heartbreak-proof," said the witch. "Will not smudge until you say the counter-charm."
Shya swiped it across her wrist, then waved her hand through a jet of enchanted steam. The line didn't move. "That's witchcraft!"
Talora raised an eyebrow. "That's literally the point."
Nearby, a set of floating brushes spun lazily in a display shaped like a spell circle. "Each responds to intent," the plaque read.
Shya lifted one; it vibrated faintly in her hand and shimmered the color of her aura — dark blue shot through with silver sparks.
Talora chose another that glowed soft green-gold.
"They'll mirror your mood," the witch said. "No streaks, no slips — they know what you want even when you don't."
"Finally," Shya said, grinning. "Something that understands me."
They drifted toward a floating table of lip products that spun like a carousel. Tiny labels glowed: "Nimbus Nectar," "Rose Rune," "Velvet Vow."
Talora tried a balm labeled "Moon Honey." The scent was sweet and warm, and when she dabbed it on, her lips took on a natural rose tint. "It tingles."
"It's self-healing," the witch said. "Moisturizes permanently, repels lint, and never transfers."
Shya chose "Starblush," a rose-brown gloss with faint shimmer. She pouted at her reflection, then smiled. "No stickiness. No hair stuck in it. Finally, technology that matters."
Talora laughed. "We sound like an advertisement."
"We are the advertisement," Shya said, striking a dramatic pose.
At the back, an entire display glowed faintly with runes. Jars of cream and tonics floated gently in midair, labeled in looping gold script:
"Basilisk-Venom Renewal Serum," "Phoenix-Ash Restorative Mask," "Moonstone & Mallowleaf Elixir."
"Skin care?" Talora asked, intrigued.
The witch nodded. "For brightening, softening, and… resisting minor curses."
Shya opened one jar and inhaled — it smelled like jasmine and rain. The cream shimmered faintly, tiny stars dissolving on her fingertip.
"It's warm!" she said, surprised.
"It activates with touch," the witch explained. "Adjusts to your skin's needs."
Talora read another label aloud. "'Siren Silk — hydrates for seventy-two hours, even after submersion.' Seventy-two hours?"
The witch nodded proudly. "We tested it on mermaids."
Both girls burst into laughter. "Sold," Shya said, grabbing two jars.
After nearly an hour, they stood at the counter surrounded by little enchanted bags that chirped softly as they were filled.
Shya's haul glimmered like a treasure chest: bright shadows, the comet blue, a starlit glitter gloss, and that defiant liner.
Talora's was subtler — rose-gold palettes, "Hippogriff Dawn," the red lipstick she'd finally chosen (Crimson Charm), and a bottle of Moon Honey Serum.
The witch wrapped everything in tissue that shimmered faintly with starlight. "For two young witches stepping into the art of self-transformation," she said warmly. "May your reflections always surprise you — and never frighten you."
Both girls smiled, unsure why that blessing felt so important.
Outside, the late-afternoon sun had dipped behind Griffen Way's gilded rooftops.
The air smelled of sugar and wind. Across the street, Arya and Tristan were still at Florean & Finch's, faces dusted in frosting, while Roman and Cassian waved lazily from the window.
"About time!" Roman called. "We were going to send the Aurors."
"We were busy glowing," Shya replied, brandishing her bag.
Cassian's lips twitched. "So I see."
Talora's cheeks still carried a faint shimmer; she tried to hide a smile. "We may have gone slightly overboard."
"Define slightly," Roman said.
"Let's just say," Shya began, "if Hogwarts ever floods, my eyeliner will still survive."
Arya groaned. "You two are officially impossible."
Tristan nodded gravely. "Next time, we pick the shop."
Shya and Talora exchanged a look, then identical mischievous smiles.
"Sure," Talora said sweetly. "As long as it has glitter."
"Or dragons," Shya added. "We're flexible."
They all burst into laughter as they headed farther down the twilight street — six silhouettes against the warm light of Griffen Way, their voices mixing with the hum of magic and the soft clinking of shop bells.
It started with Arya pressing his face to a window.
"Pets!" he shouted, voice muffled against the glass. "Look—actual magical pets!"
Tristan appeared beside him a heartbeat later. "That one just sneezed sparks!"
The others turned toward the shop: a tall, curved façade of dark wood and gleaming brass, with a sign that shimmered like starlight.
FAUNA ARCANUM
Rare & Remarkable Companions. Licensed Magizoologist.
Roman raised a brow. "Of course it's got a pretentious name."
Shya smirked. "Pretentious is half the point. Come on, let them look. It's not like they're going to let us adopt a baby dragon."
The moment they stepped inside, Griffen Way's noise faded to a hush.
The shop smelled of warm straw, spice, and faint ozone — the scent of magic gently thrumming. Runes glowed above polished enclosures.
Some housed silver-winged ferrets darting through loops of air; others held Kneazles curled in sunbeams or Nifflers tumbling over piles of glittering buttons.
"This place is unreal," Talora murmured, stepping closer to a tank where miniature hippocampi swam in a self-contained bubble of seawater.
Behind the counter, a tall witch in deep green robes looked up from a ledger. Her hair was streaked gold and silver, her expression serene and sharp at once.
"Welcome to Fauna Arcanum," she said. "I'm Celeste, proprietor and licensed magizoologist. Anything you're hoping to find today?"
"Just looking," Shya said quickly, half-apologetic. "Our brothers dragged us in."
Celeste's smile softened. "That's usually how the best bonds begin."
Arya and Tristan darted between cages, whispering animatedly. A pair of pygmy owls swooped down to inspect them, trilling.
Talora lingered near a sleek black Kneazle grooming itself. "Did people used to keep these as familiars?" she asked curiously.
Celeste turned toward her, eyes brightening. "Ah, you've heard of familiars, then."
Cassian shrugged. "It's an old practice. Mostly died out after the sixteenth century, didn't it?"
Celeste nodded, clearly impressed. "Quite right. It was discouraged after the Familiar Accords — too many uncontrolled magical bonds. Some were… too deep. The witch felt every wound, every fear, every death their familiar did. For some, the connection was spiritual; for others, it became unbearable."
Roman added, "The Ministry thought it was unstable magic."
"The Ministry," Celeste said delicately, "has always preferred predictability over power."
Shya frowned slightly. "So what changed?"
Celeste's gaze drifted toward a cluster of crystal cages. "After the Binding, wand magic became dominant. People forgot how to listen. Familiars weren't lost — they were simply born quieter, their voices fainter. Even now, some magical pets forge tiny echoes of that old bond. But a true familiar bond?" She shook her head. "That's something most magizoologists never see."
"Guys!" Arya's voice carried from the far end of the shop. "You've got to see these!"
They hurried over. In a softly glowing pen nestled two small puppies — one black as shadow, the other white as new snow. They weren't sleeping exactly; they were waiting.
The black pup sprawled lazily on her back, a toy between her paws, her fur gleaming with faint hints of indigo whenever she shifted. The white one sat poised and still, fur faintly luminescent, eyes golden and steady.
"Oh, they're perfect," Talora breathed.
Celeste came to stand beside them, voice quiet. "They were found two weeks ago near the northern ley-line forests — at dawn, on the solstice. Alone. No mother, no tracks, no magical residue but their own. When I examined them, the readings were… peculiar."
Cassian leaned in. "Peculiar how?"
Celeste raised her wand, tracing a pattern in the air. Twin streams of light appeared — one gold, one deep blue — twisting together before separating again. "This," she said softly, "is their resonance. Not typical of any mundane magical species. The patterns match only mythic lineages — spirits once believed extinct."
Tristan gasped. "Like what?"
"The white one," Celeste continued, nodding toward her, "carries the energy signature of a Cadejo — Central American guardian hounds said to protect travelers, lead them home and guard against curses. She's steady, intuitive, attuned to light magic. We thought the bloodline gone after the seventeenth century."
"And the other?" Shya asked, gaze locked on the darker pup.
Celeste hesitated, studying her. "That one's more complicated. signature of the Gwyllgi—Welsh death hounds said to serve the Otherworld, collect wandering souls, and appear as omens of death. It is foreboding, silent, and attuned to the deeper, shadow-lands magic that reminds mortals of their mortality."
Roman whistled. "Cheerful."
Celeste smiled faintly. "Don't let the name mislead you. Gwyllgi weren't bringers of death. They were keepers of balance. They watched so others could rest."
Shya's brows knit. "You mean, they weren't… bad?"
"Bad?" Celeste echoed. "There's no such thing in nature. Only purpose. Both Cadejo and Gwyllgi were forces of guidance — one in the light, one in the dark. Legends say when both lines appear together, the veil between realms grows thin, and the world adjusts itself toward harmony again."
Her words hung in the air, soft as breath.
The black pup had gotten to her feet. She stared directly at Shya, head tilted, tail flicking like a metronome.
"Hey," Shya said, crouching. "What's with the look?"
The pup blinked, then pressed one paw against the barrier. It shimmered — once — and vanished. She trotted straight into Shya's lap, curling into a warm heap of fur.
Arya gasped. "Shybear! She chose you!"
The white pup followed suit, padding gracefully toward Talora and pressing her nose against her knee. Talora reached down, tentative, then smiled as the pup sighed contentedly, glowing faintly brighter.
Celeste exhaled. "So it's true."
"What is?" Talora asked softly.
"They're not ordinary," Celeste said. "They've chosen their witches. That's how the old bonds began — never trained, never tamed. Just… recognition."
Cassian crouched beside Shya, watching the faint pulse of blue-black magic around her hands. "That's resonance alignment," he said quietly. "You can feel it."
Celeste nodded. "Exactly. It's mutual magic — one soul finding its mirror."
The black pup yawned, blinking up at Shya with molten amber eyes.
"Alright, menace," Shya said softly, brushing her fingers through the pup's fur. "You need a name."
She thought for a moment, then smiled. "Haneera. It means 'darkness' in Punjabi. Not the scary kind — the kind you can see stars through."
The pup wagged her tail once, as though approving.
Talora cradled the white pup, thinking. "And you… you're Pandora, It means 'all-gifted' in Greek. Not the kind given freely, but the kind where every blessing holds a persistent, unyielding hope."
"
Roman snorted. "Light and dark. Subtle, girls."
"Coincidence," Shya said lightly — though when Pandora looked up and met Haneera's gaze, both tails thumped in perfect rhythm.
Celeste rose, eyes glinting with something almost reverent. "You understand," she said quietly, "these aren't mere pets. True familiar bonds are rare because they require magic that listens. That's what we lost after the Binding — the ability to hear magic speak back."
Shya frowned. "So… it still exists?"
"Always," Celeste said. "It's just quieter now. But these two… they haven't forgotten how." She looked between them, her expression unreadable. "Cadejo and Gwyllgi together. Light and shadow, curiosity and courage. The balance is returning, as it always does."
Talora tilted her head. "You make it sound like fate."
Celeste smiled faintly. "Oh, my dear. Fate is just what we call magic we don't yet understand."
Then Arya and Tristan broke the spell.
"Can we buy them toys?" Arya shouted. "Please? The collars glow!"
Celeste laughed softly, the tension dissolving. "Yes, yes, of course. Second aisle — grooming charms, enchanted brushes, self-cleaning beds."
Within minutes, the counter was piled high with glittering leads, floating feeding bowls, and tiny blankets stitched with starlight. Shya picked a black-and-silver carrier patterned with constellations; Talora chose one in soft ivory trimmed with gold.
"Matching spa kits?" Talora offered dryly.
"Obviously," Shya replied.
Celeste wrapped the purchases carefully. "Treat them with respect," she said as she placed the pups in their carriers. "And they will treat you with loyalty unlike anything else."
As they stepped back onto Griffen Way, the lanterns overhead flickered softly — blue and gold.
Pandora's fur glowed faintly in the dusk. Haneera's eyes caught the light and turned it molten.
"Looks like they're already guarding you," Cassian murmured.
"Or judging us," Roman said. "Hard to tell."
"Both," Talora said, grinning.
Shya smiled down at Haneera. "Good. I like a girl with opinions."
And as they walked off into the golden street — laughter echoing between cobblestones, magic humming quietly beneath their feet — two tiny shapes padded proudly beside them, balance and contrast in perfect step.