---
There are many ways a day can start.
Some people wake up to sunshine. Birds chirping. A sense of peace.
I woke up to Arwen Nightveil holding a scroll with the Imperial seal and muttering,
"This is either a threat or an invitation to die publicly."
Comforting.
I rolled over in the blanket nest I'd claimed on her desk, fluffed my feathers, and squinted at the scroll.
"Is it from the Tea Society again?" I chirped.
"No," she said flatly. "Worse."
She unrolled the parchment with all the grace of someone opening a letter bomb. Her eyes scanned it once, then twice. Then she made a sound I'd never heard before... a mix between a laugh and a scream.
"We've been summoned," she announced. "To a parade."
I stared at her.
"You mean a trap."
"Officially, it's called a Celebration of Imperial Harmony."
I squawked.
---
Fifteen minutes later, the dorm tower was in a state of war. Arwen stalked from her desk to the wardrobe like a noble general forced to attend a farcical banquet.
"The Empress herself will be there," she said, rifling through a rack of formal robes with all the enthusiasm of a surgeon about to amputate a leg with a spoon. "We have to appear compliant. Not weak."
"Not naming me is already treasonous," I chirped from the windowsill.
"It's not treason if they can't catch you," she replied.
I blinked. "Is that the Academy motto?"
"It's mine."
---
I climbed onto her writing desk and watched her pace. She did that sometimes when she was thinking. Sharp, clipped movements, like each step was a battle plan being forged.
She paused at a mirror.
"They'll want you on display," she murmured.
"Good thing I'm majestic."
"You're a feral puffball."
"I am a symbol of defiance."
"You fell in a soup bowl yesterday."
"It was a tactical dive."
She didn't laugh, but her mouth twitched.
---
There was a knock. Arwen answered with a flick of her wrist, and Valesh stepped inside, smug as a summer lizard.
"Lovely weather for parades," he said.
"No," Arwen replied. "It's perfect weather for plague."
Valesh handed over a folded package.
"Protocol for familiars during public processions. This is his… attire."
I eyed it. Pink. Frilly. Something shimmered.
"I'm going to explode," I hissed.
Valesh ignored me. "Imperial etiquette requires..."
Arwen dunked the outfit in her tea.
Valesh stared.
"It slipped," she said.
Valesh's eye twitched. "There will be replacements."
"I'm sure."
He left in a huff. Arwen locked the door behind him.
---
I shredded the soaked outfit for good measure. Feathers flew.
Arwen sank onto the couch, staring at the ruined fabric.
"I hate this," she said.
"Then don't go."
"We have to."
"Why?"
She didn't answer.
I hopped into her lap and stared up at her. Her face was calm, composed... but her fingers trembled against my feathers.
"They're watching us," she whispered. "Waiting for a mistake."
"Let's give them one," I chirped.
She blinked.
I grinned, sharp and small.
"You handle the nobles. I'll handle fashion sabotage."
She actually laughed.
---
That night, she set out three formal robes.
Black velvet with silver thread. Midnight blue with a crimson crest. And deep purple with a high collar that screamed "I dare you to judge me."
I climbed onto the purple one.
"This one. You can hide snacks in the collar."
"I'm not hiding snacks."
"You're not trying hard enough."
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
"I used to dream of parades," she said softly. "Marching, banners, power. All of them watching me and knowing I'd win."
I tilted my head.
"And now?"
She touched the spiral sigil on my chest.
"Now I want them to know we can't be bought."
---
I have been through a lot in this short, chaotic reincarnated life.
I've exploded. Been groomed by a tea club. Bitten nobility. Nearly got named in public.
But nothing, nothing... could prepare me for the horror of what Arwen called "parade day protocol."
Specifically, the tiny hat.
---
"You're joking," I said, staring at the hat.
"I never joke about Empire-issued formalwear," Arwen replied without looking up from the mirror. She was adjusting her cloak... a rich velvet monstrosity that screamed look at me, I dare you, and looked entirely too calm for someone trying to commit fashion-based soulbeast homicide.
"They want me to wear that?" I warbled, feathers puffed in disgust.
"It's embroidered with House Nightveil's crest."
"It has sequins."
"Subtle sequins."
"There is no such thing."
---
Valesh arrived precisely then, because of course he did. Probably summoned by my distress cries. He strolled in with his perfect boots and smug aura, carrying another... I kid you not... capelet.
"For the familiar," he said, holding it out like he was offering a royal decree.
Arwen glanced at it. "Did you know he tried to eat the last one?"
Valesh smiled. "Did you know not complying is grounds for formal reprimand?"
I leapt onto the table, snatched the capelet, and threw it into the fire.
Valesh's smile twitched.
"I'll log that," he said stiffly.
"Make it bold," I chirped.
---
The parade grounds were… awful.
Banners everywhere. Gold. Red. Velvet. Sigils glowing like overworked festival lanterns. And nobles,so many nobles... all standing around pretending this was a celebration of unity and not a high-stakes political knife fight disguised as a public spectacle.
Arwen didn't say a word as we approached our carriage. She didn't have to. Her shoulders were tense. Her hands didn't shake, but I saw the way her fingers curled... slow, precise, like she was holding a blade beneath her cloak and choosing not to use it.
I clambered onto her arm. "You okay?"
"No."
"Want me to bite someone?"
"Always."
---
Our carriage was at the front... of course it was, drawn by two enormous soulbeasts with silver manes and glowing eyes. Arwen climbed in like she owned the world. I followed, hopping onto the seat beside her.
"Smile," I said.
She didn't.
---
As the parade began, the crowd surged... cheers, enchanted flowers, nobles waving like they were born to be seen. I could practically hear the whispers.
"That's her."
"That's the soulbeast."
"Did you hear it speaks now?"
I bared my teeth at a noble kid leaning over the railing.
He screamed.
Arwen didn't scold me.
---
Halfway through the procession, I felt it.
A pull.
Not physical. Not spark like usual. It was… colder. Tighter. Like someone was trying to thread me into a cage.
"Arwen," I hissed.
She turned, instantly alert.
"There," I pointed with my wing, a noble on the dais, robes too polished, eyes too flat. He held something... a sigil chime, faintly glowing.
"They're binding me."
Her eyes narrowed. "Not today."
She stood... fast, sharp, deliberate, and held me up like I was a banner.
"Let them see."
---
I flared.
Not out of control. Not in rage.
In defiance.
Light surged, gold and violet, crackling through the air. Banners trembled. Glamours shattered. One noble's wig flew off. Horses panicked. Someone screamed "he's ascending!" (I wasn't.)
The noble with the chime dropped it like it bit him.
I wanted to laugh.
So I did.
Arwen didn't stop me.
---
When the light faded, we were the only ones still standing tall.
No one tried to stop us.
No one dared.
---
Back in our dorm, Arwen said nothing for a long time.
Finally, she looked at me.
"You did that on purpose."
"Partially."
"You're a menace."
"Fully."
She didn't smile.
But she didn't stop me when I curled against her shoulder, spark still buzzing between us like a promise.