The flying cloth carried us away from Coco’s home until the blue glow of the petrified house disappeared behind the trees.
She remained turned toward it long after there was nothing left to see.
Her hand stayed raised from the final wave to her mother, fingers slowly curling into her palm as the distance grew. The wind pulled loose strands of hair across her face. She did not move them.
Qifrey guided the cloth from the front. Small movements of his pen sent us climbing above the forest, and a second line turned the cloth without disturbing its surface.
I watched closely.
The spell appeared effortless, though I knew better than to confuse practiced ease with simplicity. Every adjustment began with ink or light shaped by his hand. The cloth obeyed because a circle somewhere within it had been designed to receive those instructions.
That was almost everything I knew about magic in this world.
Witches used special ink and seals. The center determined the effect, while symbols around it changed the spell’s direction, reach, or behavior. Pointed Hats protected that knowledge. Brimmed Hats ignored the laws and practiced magic that was considered forbidden.
I remembered names and scattered images from the reincarnation hall, though none of them formed a complete guide.
No one there had explained what flying felt like.
The cloth flexed beneath my knees as it passed over a ridge. Far below, moonlight rested on a river like a long silver blade.
A few drops of water rose from it, caught by the wind.
Qifrey drew a quick symbol.
The droplets curved away from him and scattered harmlessly behind us.
I looked at the clear sky, then at the river far beneath.
That had been a considerable amount of effort to avoid three drops of water.
He noticed me looking.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
His gaze rested on me for a moment, as though he suspected I had noticed more than I said. Then he turned forward again.
Coco finally lowered her hand.
“Will my mother truly be all right?”
Qifrey’s voice softened. “She has somewhere safe to stay, and I will send a message as soon as we reach the atelier. The house is sealed. The spell cannot spread while the barrier remains intact.”
“But all of her work was inside.”
“I know.”
“She made those clothes herself. Some of them took weeks.”
Qifrey did not rush to fill the silence.
“I cannot return everything immediately,” he said after a moment. “I can make certain she has food, shelter, and enough money to begin working again. Then we will study the spell you drew and search for a way to reverse it.”
Coco looked down at her stained fingers.
“You really think it can be reversed?”
“I think deciding it is impossible before we understand it would be poor scholarship.”
She gave him a small, uncertain nod.
The answer had offered no promise. It still gave her something to hold.
The cloth began descending toward a line of lights beside a road. A covered platform stood near several low buildings, with travelers gathered beneath hanging lanterns.
Qifrey brought us down behind the platform, away from most of them.
The moment my feet touched the ground, I became aware of the black Nichirin sword at my waist.
A child carrying a blade had already drawn attention at Coco’s home. Here, surrounded by strangers from a world whose laws I barely understood, it would invite questions I could not answer safely.
I placed my hand over the sheath and sent it into Inventory.
The weapon vanished.
Qifrey stopped folding the cloth.
His visible eye moved from my empty hand to the place where the sword had been.
Coco stared too.
“Where did it go?”
“A personal ability,” I said. “I can store objects somewhere safe and retrieve them later.”
“Without a seal?” Qifrey asked.
“Not that I know of.”
There was no point inventing a visible method he had already watched me ignore.
His expression remained calm, though his attention sharpened.
“Can anyone else access this place?”
“No.”
“Does storing something alter the object?”
“No. Time does not seem to pass for anything inside.”
Qifrey folded the last corner of the cloth with deliberate care.
“Do not demonstrate that ability in front of other witches.”
I inclined my head. “May I ask why?”
“Because you used no ink, no instrument, and no visible spell. To anyone watching, it may appear that you altered your body to contain the sword or opened a hidden space through forbidden magic.”
“I understand.”
“Some witches would ask questions first. Others may call the Knights Moralis before giving you the opportunity to explain.”
Coco looked between us. “But it isn’t forbidden magic.”
“We do not know what it is,” Qifrey said. His tone remained gentle, though the boundary in it was firm. “Until we do, caution protects Haruya as much as it protects the secret of magic.”
He looked at me again.
“Can you refrain from using it publicly?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He accepted the answer without pressing for my origin.
That did not mean his curiosity had disappeared. I could see it in the way he studied my empty waist and the faint mark near my temple.
He was allowing the question to wait.
A carriage drew up to the platform.
Two pale creatures stood before it, shaped like horses but covered in fine feathers along their necks and shoulders. Broad wings folded against their sides. Small seals gleamed across their harnesses, and the carriage wheels floated above the road.
Coco’s grief loosened its hold for one breath.
“Pegasus!”
One of the creatures stamped a hoof and ruffled its feathers.
She stepped closer, then stopped before reaching for it.
“May I touch one?”
The driver smiled. “This one likes being greeted. Keep your hand where she can see it.”
Coco approached slowly.
The pegasus lowered its head and breathed against her palm. Her eyes widened as its feathers shifted beneath her fingers.
I watched the seals on the harness brighten.
The warmth that rose in my chest surprised me.
My own world contained demons, Breathing Styles, crows that delivered orders, and swords forged from sunlight. I had become accustomed to wonders because most of them existed beside death.
Here, a family could hire a carriage pulled through the sky by a winged horse.
Magic had entered ordinary life.
It carried travelers.
Moved water.
Lit roads.
Coco turned toward me, the first genuine smile since we left her mother appearing on her face.
“Haruya, feel this. The feathers are warm.”
I held out my hand.
The creature inspected me before allowing my fingers near its neck. Beneath the soft feathers, powerful muscles shifted with each breath.
“It smells like rain,” Coco said.
“It probably flies through clouds.”
Her smile grew.
Qifrey watched us from beside the carriage. There was patience in his posture, and something relieved in the way he let Coco remain there longer than necessary.
He understood that she needed wonder after what had happened.
Eventually, we boarded.
The carriage rose gently once the pegasi began moving. The floating wheels turned without touching the road, and the lanterns below receded until they resembled scattered embers.
Coco sat beside the window. Her attention moved between the wings outside, the glowing harness, and the villages passing beneath us.
She looked exhausted.
She also looked incapable of closing her eyes while magic remained visible.
Qifrey sat across from us.
“There is something we should discuss before arriving.”
Coco pulled herself away from the window.
I straightened.
Qifrey rested his pen case across his lap.
“You both learned the secret of magic under unusual circumstances. Coco drew a spell without knowing what it was. Haruya witnessed that spell and cannot be made to forget it.”
Coco flinched at the reminder.
Qifrey noticed.
“This is not a punishment,” he continued. “You need instruction because the knowledge already placed you in danger. Learning how magic works will help you avoid repeating tonight’s accident.”
“Then you’ll teach me?” Coco asked.
The hope in her voice made the question sound fragile.
“Yes.”
Her hands tightened in her lap.
“Even after what I did?”
“Especially after what you did. Leaving you without guidance would make another accident more likely.”
Coco’s eyes filled, though this time she smiled through it.
“I’ll work hard. I promise I’ll listen, and I won’t draw anything without permission. I’ll learn every rule.”
Qifrey smiled gently.
“One rule at a time will be enough. Trying to become perfect by tomorrow would only create different problems.”
She nodded quickly, then seemed to remember something.
“My mother called you my teacher.”
“If you agree to become my apprentice, that is what I will be.”
Coco lowered her head.
“Thank you, Qifrey-sensei.”
His visible eye softened.
Then he turned toward me.
“Your circumstances are more difficult.”
I met his gaze.
“I know.”
“You say you came searching for a way to treat your curse. Magic may offer knowledge, but I cannot promise a cure. Some forms of magic that alter the body are prohibited for good reason.”
“I will respect your laws while I study them.”
“That answer was carefully chosen.”
“It is honest.”
I could respect the laws without believing every law was beyond question. Qifrey likely heard the difference.
He did not challenge it.
“Your abilities also make you vulnerable to suspicion,” he continued. “You will need to learn which actions are safe to reveal. I would prefer to supervise that education rather than leave you to discover the consequences alone.”
The offer carried caution and compassion in equal measure.
There was another reason behind it. I could sense that much without relying on Observe.
I had arrived beside forbidden magic.
My mind resisted his spell.
My curse had struck something personal in him.
Qifrey wanted to understand me.
For now, our goals could share the same path.
I bowed from my seat.
“I would be honored to learn from you, Qifrey-sensei.”
His brows rose slightly at the title.
“You accepted quickly.”
“You protected Coco, contained the spell, and offered to help her mother. You also warned me before my ability caused trouble. Those are sufficient reasons to treat you as my teacher.”
He was silent for a moment.
“I will try to remain worthy of that confidence.”
There was no joke in his answer.
That made me trust it more.
He explained the first rules while the carriage crossed the night.
We would draw only with approved tools. We would never complete an unfamiliar seal simply to see what happened. We would keep the truth of magic away from non-witches. We would not use magic to alter living bodies.
Coco listened intensely, occasionally asking him to repeat something so she could be certain she understood.
When he spoke about incomplete circles, she looked down at her hands.
“Was the spell at my house complete?”
“Yes.”
“Then if I had stopped before closing the circle…”
“The magic would not have activated.”
Her expression tightened.
Qifrey leaned forward.
“Coco, understanding the moment when you could have stopped is useful. Repeating it inside your mind until it becomes a punishment is not.”
“I keep thinking that I should have known.”
“You were taught that magic was something only witches could perform. Someone gave you a tool while preserving that lie. You made a mistake within circumstances designed to make that mistake possible.”
Coco looked at him for a long moment.
“Do you know who gave me the book?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I intend to find out.”
His tone barely changed.
The air inside the carriage did.
For an instant, the patient teacher receded, and I felt the purpose beneath him. Cold, focused, and old enough to have shaped much of his life.
Then he looked at Coco again, and the gentleness returned.
“Until then, your task is to learn safely.”
She nodded.
The rocking of the carriage eventually overcame her excitement. Her eyes closed for a few breaths at a time before she forced them open again.
“You may sleep,” I told her. “The sky should still be here when you wake.”
She smiled faintly. “I know.”
A few minutes later, her head leaned against the window.
Qifrey moved his cloak between her temple and the glass so the vibration would not wake her.
The gesture was quiet enough that he probably expected it to go unnoticed.
I turned toward the darkness outside.
Whatever Qifrey hid, his care for his students was real.
Those two truths did not cancel each other.
Morning reached us over a wide grassland.
Coco woke as sunlight filled the carriage. She sat upright, confused by Qifrey’s cloak beneath her head, then carefully folded it and placed it beside him.
The fields below moved in long green waves. Narrow streams wound between hills, and pale flowers opened as the sunlight passed over them.
Then the atelier appeared.
It stood alone in the grassland, its sloping roofs and rounded windows joined in a shape that looked carefully built and somehow grown at the same time. Small devices turned above the chimneys. Sheets of fabric floated near one balcony. Water rose from a stream in shining arcs and poured itself through channels along the building.
Coco pressed close to the window.
I forgot caution for several breaths and did the same.
Everywhere I looked, a drawing had become movement.
Someone had taken lines on a page and taught them to carry water, move cloth, open windows, and support an entire home.
“It’s beautiful,” Coco whispered.
I understood why she had watched Qifrey through the window.
The carriage descended beside a curved path.
When we stepped out, Qifrey paused near a damp patch left by the garden channel. He drew a tiny line and redirected the water around his boots rather than step across it.
I said nothing.
His visible eye turned toward me anyway.
I looked toward the atelier with complete innocence.
The front door opened before we reached it.
A girl with pink hair hurried down the path, her cloak shifting around her legs.
“Qifrey-sensei, you’re back!”
She slowed when she saw us, curiosity spreading openly across her face.
Qifrey greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Tetia.”
“Good morning. You brought guests.”
“New apprentices, if everyone allows them enough time to enter the building.”
Tetia looked at Coco, who suddenly became aware of her wrinkled clothing and ink-stained hands.
“I’m Tetia,” the girl said. “You must be tired. Did you travel all night?”
Coco nodded. “I’m Coco.”
Tetia held out her hand without crowding her.
“I’m glad you came, Coco.”
The simplicity of it loosened something in Coco’s shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Tetia’s face brightened.
“Thank you for thanking me.”
Coco blinked, then smiled.
Tetia turned toward me.
“I’m Haruya. Thank you for welcoming us.”
Her delight grew.
“You’re both very polite.”
She reminded me of Hinaki, who could turn a greeting into a reason for celebration, though Tetia’s warmth felt less demanding. She offered it and waited to see whether the other person wanted to receive it.
Another apprentice appeared in the doorway behind her.
The girl had long blue hair and a calm, distant expression. She looked at us, then at Qifrey.
“Are they staying?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Coco and Haruya will study with us.”
She considered this without visible excitement or displeasure.
“I’m Richeh.”
Her gaze returned to the tools hanging from the side of the carriage.
Coco bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Richeh nodded.
“You can use the empty hooks near the study room for your things. Tetia fills the others.”
“I use them,” Tetia protested.
“You hang everything on the first one.”
“It saves time.”
Richeh went back inside before the discussion could continue.
Her quiet certainty reminded me of Kanata. Both seemed content to let other people fill silence while they decided which parts were worth answering.
A third girl arrived from the side of the atelier carrying a case of drawing tools.
She stopped when she saw us.
Her attention moved immediately to Coco, then to Qifrey.
“Who are they?”
Qifrey’s voice remained light. “Agott, this is Coco and Haruya. They will be joining the atelier.”
Agott’s grip tightened around her case.
“Have they trained under another witch?”
“No.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Then why are they here?”
Coco’s excitement faded.
Qifrey did not rebuke Agott immediately. He gave her enough time to reconsider the question.
She did not.
“They require instruction,” he said. “The circumstances are unusual, and I will explain what you need to know after they have rested.”
Agott looked at Coco’s stained fingers.
“You used magic already.”
Coco swallowed. “Once.”
“Without training?”
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly, though Coco did not hide from it.
Agott’s expression closed further.
“Some people study for years before they are trusted with meaningful spells.”
Tetia shifted beside Coco.
“Agott, they just arrived.”
“I know.”
Agott turned toward Qifrey.
“You always tell us that careless magic harms people.”
“It does.”
“Then bringing someone who used it carelessly into the atelier rewards exactly what you warn us against.”
The words struck Coco hard because they carried part of the truth.
I felt the urge to answer for her.
I held it back.
Coco drew a slow breath.
“I hurt my mother and destroyed our home,” she said. “I didn’t know the drawing was magic, but I still drew it. Qifrey-sensei says learning may help me undo the spell. That’s why I came.”
Agott studied her.
Coco’s hands trembled. Her eyes remained raised.
“I’m not asking you to think I deserve it yet,” she continued. “I’m asking for the chance to learn enough to make things right.”
Agott’s expression shifted, though only slightly.
She looked away first.
“That will require more than wanting it.”
“I know.”
Qifrey stepped beside them with a mediating smile.
“It will also require rest, breakfast, and an introduction to the atelier. We can judge one another’s work after there has been time to produce some.”
Agott inclined her head.
She had not accepted Coco.
She had allowed the conversation to end.
For a first meeting, that seemed enough.
As she passed me, her gaze paused near my temple.
“And you?”
“I’m here to study whether magic can help me understand an illness.”
She glanced at Qifrey.
“He has agreed to teach you?”
“Yes.”
Agott nodded once.
“Then your work will show whether the decision was correct.”
There was pride in her, and something more fragile hiding beneath it. A need for skill to mean something because she had paid dearly for every piece of her own.
She reminded me a little of Kuina when she thought praise given to someone else had been taken from her.
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Agott noticed. “What?”
“Nothing unkind. You reminded me of one of my sisters.”
Her expression became uncertain, as though she had prepared for offense and did not know what to do with affection.
“I have never met your sister.”
“She would probably argue with you.”
“That does not explain the comparison.”
“It explains most of my fond memories of her.”
Tetia laughed softly.
Even Richeh looked back from inside.
Agott’s cheeks colored.
She continued into the atelier without answering.
The exchange left warmth behind without turning her resistance into a joke.
Coco moved closer to me.
“I think this will be difficult.”
“Yes.”
She looked toward Tetia, who was waiting to show us inside, then toward Richeh’s blue hair disappearing around a corner. Agott stood farther down the hall, pretending she was no longer listening.
Coco took another breath.
“I still want to stay.”
“So do I.”
Qifrey opened the door wider.
“Then welcome to the atelier.”
The air inside smelled of breakfast, paper, wood, and fresh ink. Morning light passed through colored glass and moved across walls covered in drawings. Somewhere deeper in the building, water climbed upward with a quiet rushing sound.
Tetia began explaining where we would sleep.
Richeh corrected one of her directions without turning around.
Agott carried her tools toward the study room, her steps measured and precise.
Qifrey remained near the entrance, watching all of us with a patient smile.
Behind that smile waited questions, hidden wounds, and a purpose I did not yet understand.
Around him stood three students who trusted him in three different ways.
Coco stepped across the threshold first.
I followed.