The morning sun cast a warm golden light over the Vellion estate, painting the lush fields in molten gold. Birds chirped merrily in the hedgerows. The breeze carried the scent of dewy grass and something suspiciously like scorched cotton. This was, of course, due to the latest casualty of Arila's magic training: a once-pristine training dummy that now resembled a very flammable scarecrow's charred ghost.
"Lady Arila," Professor Daelen said, hovering exactly six inches above the grass—because walking was for the unenchanted—"you're aiming to incapacitate, not vaporize."
Arila, dressed in her usual combo of a soft hoodie, sleek black leggings, and her battered spell-resistant flats, wiped a thin sheen of sweat off her brow. Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail that had already surrendered to chaotic curls. "Look, if this were a raid boss with two phases and an enraged timer, I'd have to pre-burst with AoE just before phase change. This," she gestured to the smoldering pile of cloth and stuffing, "was restraint."
Daelen's eyes narrowed like a man who knew he was not going to like the next three things she said. "I don't know what any of that means. And I'm beginning to suspect it's some kind of magical disorder."
Lira, stationed beside the training circle with a massive spell-dampening extinguisher shaped like a ceremonial teapot, whispered, "Isn't that the same logic she used when she summoned a tornado indoors?"
"Yes," Daelen replied grimly, remembering the great hallway disaster of last spring.
Arila cracked her knuckles. "Okay, okay. Wind plus fire. This time with a pinch of finesse. Easy."
Moments later, a graceful spiral of wind arced upward—followed by an extremely not-graceful fireball that veered wildly left. Her eyes widened.
"Wait no—NOPE—"
WHOOMPH.
A hedge a good twenty feet away erupted into a glorious, leafy inferno. Green turned to gold, gold to smoke, and a flurry of panicked squirrels bailed from the flames in every direction.
"I regret nothing!" Arila yelled dramatically, ducking as Daelen waved a hand and summoned a powerful gust to extinguish the fire. Leaves and ash spun everywhere.
"I'm going to invoice you for shrubbery," Daelen muttered, brushing soot from his sleeves.
"They were already dying of boredom," Arila said brightly.
"Fire is not a solution to landscaping."
As Daelen launched into a lecture about elemental discipline and garden ethics, Arila wandered toward the blackened hedge, curiosity outweighing caution. The scorched branches crackled underfoot as she crouched beside the smoldering remnants.
"Poor little guy," she murmured, poking a stick at the crispy leaves. "You deserved better topiary management."
Then she heard it—a faint, trembling whimper.
Her body stilled. Muscles tensed. "That was not the hedge," she whispered.
She stepped deeper into the underbrush, scanning the tangled roots and blackened foliage. Her eyes caught something strange—a shimmer, like moonlight through water. It moved.
There, nestled between singed branches and the charred remains of what used to be decorative vines, lay a creature so utterly otherworldly that time seemed to slow around it.
It was silver.
It shimmered.
It had nine magnificent, faintly glowing tails, each flickering like woven silk threaded with frostlight.
And it was bleeding.
"Oh no," Arila breathed. "That's not a fox. That's a limited-edition boss summon with a 0.2% drop rate."
She dropped to her knees beside the creature, careful not to touch its fur. Its storm-grey eyes met hers—ancient, intelligent, and mildly disappointed.
"Hi," she said gently. "Please don't ice me."
The creature stared. Then, with a weary, imperious grace, it stepped forward. And another. And then, impossibly, curled into her lap with a soft sigh.
"Oh gods," she whispered, heart hammering. "Are we bonding? Did I just become a magical girl?"
She stood slowly, cradling the divine floof against her chest like an overburdened plushie. It was warm, but not hot—its body radiated the kind of cool that came from winter winds and moonlit forests. The bleeding had slowed, but its limbs trembled.
"You are dangerously soft," she said. "I am so underleveled for this responsibility."
From across the training yard, Daelen's voice rang out. "Lady Arila, if you're trying to escape your mistake by hiding in a bush again—"
"I found a divine fox!" she called.
Silence.
Then the soft whoosh of Daelen floating toward her. His expression was the blend of dread and weary acceptance he reserved for 'Arila Moments™.'
Evelaine, who had come to observe with a cup of rose petal tea, raised a delicate brow.
Caelan, standing beside her, took a sip from his own cup and promptly spat tea across the lawn.
Lira shrieked, dropped her embroidery hoop, and fainted sideways onto a velvet cushion like a startled goat.
"Everyone," Arila announced with barely restrained delight, "this is Ninko. He's a Kitsune. He's injured. He's mine now."
The fox's nine tails twitched once, releasing a shimmer of cold mist.
Daelen blinked. "That's a divine-class stealth familiar."
"He's shaped like emotional support," Arila said, scratching gently behind one ear. "And he's chosen me. I think. He hasn't tried to murder me yet."
"Do not name a spirit like that Ninko," Daelen snapped.
"Why not?"
"It sounds like a snack!"
"Exactly." She beamed. The fox licked her hand, as if in agreement.
Caelan coughed. "A divine beast just imprinted on my daughter."
"I'm strangely proud," Evelaine murmured, tilting her head thoughtfully.
Lira peeked out from behind the cushion. "He's staring into my soul."
"He does that," Arila said, stroking Ninko's fur. "It's comforting. In a terrifying sort of way."
Daelen exhaled and adjusted his coat like a man preparing for an existential spiral. "He's yours now. And he trains with you. No exceptions."
"Awesome," Arila chirped. "I always wanted a sidekick with stealth mode and judgmental eyes."
Ninko flicked his tail once—and vanished into thin air with a sound like falling snow.
Training resumed.
Sort of.
Ninko remained close to Arila's side, sometimes visible, sometimes a silent shimmer beside her shadow. When her fire spells flared too hot, he wrapped a tail around her wrist, cooling her magic with a calm, steadying touch. When she misfired, he phased into view just long enough to blink at her like a disappointed librarian.
"He's like a furry professor," Arila muttered, adjusting the focus of her flame. "Except fluffier and less sarcastic."
"He froze my boot," Daelen complained.
"You insulted his name."
"I didn't—"
"I heard it."
Daelen floated higher, as if elevation might grant escape. Arila grinned, conjured a swirl of fire and wind, and let it dance gently above her palms. Ninko reappeared beside her and swirled a trail of frost through the flame, stabilizing it into a shimmering helix.
"See?" she called. "Dynamic duo."
Daelen muttered something about magical anomalies and needing stronger tea.
Evelaine sipped hers with a serene smile. "He matches her energy."
"He's a ghost fox made of frost and passive-aggression," Caelan said. "Of course he does."
By late afternoon, the sun hung low and golden over the field. Arila sprawled beneath the shade of an ancient tree, exhausted but glowing with contentment. Ninko curled beside her like a living snowflake blanket, head resting on her thigh.
"I was going to invent chocolate today," she mumbled, reaching into her hoodie pocket for a mochi. "Instead, I adopted a divine being."
Ninko flicked his tail and delicately stole the mochi from her fingers.
"…Fair," she said, defeated.
Daelen stood a few feet away, scribbling furiously in a leather-bound notebook titled Magic Anomalies: Vellion Edition.
"If a phoenix lands on your shoulder next week," he muttered, "I'm transferring to a floating island."
Arila closed her eyes, fingers gently buried in Ninko's silken fur. He gave a soft, barely audible snore that shimmered like snowfall.
"Best glitch ever," she whispered.
And for once, Daelen didn't correct her.
To be continued...