The mirrors were still humming when the smoke appeared.
Not polite steam-machine smoke. No, this was the dramatic, glitter-infused sort that announced trouble with confidence.
"Or," said a voice from inside it, "we could skip orientation and set something on tasteful fire."
The smoke parted.And there she was — a girl with nine silver tails curling like moonlit ribbons and eyes the color of mischief having a good day.Her name badge glowed faintly:
Ayaka Kitsune — House Illusion
Every head turned. Every whisper collided into one sentence: Oh no, not her again.
She tilted her head at me. "You're Lumiel Valentine, right? The cursed one?"I blinked. "I prefer 'structurally unsound.'""Cute," she said, which, for the record, was uncalled for.
She snapped her fingers. A mirror drifted down as if obeying a whistle.My reflection rippled — then stepped out. Then another. Then twelve more.
Every clone did something mortifying: tripping, blushing, dropping imaginary books, bowing to the wrong direction. One tried to flirt with a broom.
"That's illegal," I said."It's education," Ayaka replied. "Lesson one: control your fear, or the mirrors will do it for you."
The crowd loved it. Laughter echoed through the hall. Somebody actually took notes.
I covered my face. "Fantastic. Day one and I've become a group project."
The Headmistress's voice sliced through the chaos. "Lady Kitsune, if you intend to join us, do so without rewriting local gravity again."
Ayaka gave a dramatic bow. "Of course, Headmistress. Only minor humiliation magic today.""Minor," I muttered. The word did not sound minor from where I was standing.
The mirrors settled. Orientation dismissed us into the open sky.
A Fox, a Void, and Several Bad Ideas
"Walk me to your dorm," Ayaka said as if we'd agreed to it in another lifetime."I barely know where it is," I said."Perfect. Adventure."
She moved like a breeze with a schedule — tails swaying, footsteps making runes flicker along the bridges.I trailed after her, half watching, half hoping I wouldn't sneeze my soul out.
The city of Celestara unfolded around us: floating gardens where plants sang in harmony, lecture towers shaped like tuning forks, and corridors made of transparent glass where you could see nothing beneath but clouds and your impending philosophical crisis.
Ghost teachers drifted by, muttering lesson plans to nobody. A book fluttered past my head and apologized for being late.
"You're quiet," Ayaka said. "Brooding already?""I'm thinking about all the ways this bridge could fail.""Optimist.""I'm cursed, not suicidal."
She laughed. The sound made the runes on the railing flicker brighter.
House Nihilum waited on the edge of the city — an island wrapped in twilight.The air felt heavier there, as if thought itself slowed to be polite.Obsidian halls reflected the stars below rather than the sky above.
"So this is your nest of doom," Ayaka whispered. "I love it.""The koi ghosts are friendly," I offered. As if on cue, a spectral fish swam past us through the air, radiating quiet judgment.
A mirror slid down the doorway, its voice polite and clinical.
"Welcome, Lumiel Valentine. Body integrity seventy-one percent. Embarrassment ninety-two percent."
Ayaka grinned. "I knew it kept stats!""Delete that record," I told the mirror.
"Request denied.""Figures."
The Fire and the Fox
Inside, gravity curved like it had forgotten how floors work.Rugs floated a hand's breadth above the tiles. Doors opened sideways, sometimes. A koi lectured a broom about patience. Home sweet anomaly.
"Show me the flame," Ayaka said suddenly."It's not a party trick.""I know. But I want to see it."
I hesitated. The Nihility Fire stirred under my skin, listening like a cat hearing its name."Small," I warned it. "No eating guests."
A soft glow unfolded in my palm — black edged with crimson, a shimmer that bent light instead of casting it.The air sighed. Ink in nearby runes leaned toward it; the walls breathed slower.
Ayaka didn't step back. She leaned closer, golden eyes wide. "It's… beautiful.""It's hungry," I said."So am I," she murmured, then froze. "I meant for lunch!" Her ears flattened. "Forget that."
Too late. My face was already on fire.She laughed, tails flicking. The mirrors above us chimed softly, amused.
She plucked a petal Laura had tucked behind my collar and held it out. "Feed it this.""It's just a flower.""Everything's food if you believe hard enough."
The flame touched the petal. Color bled out, leaving behind the faint scent of memory — roses, distant rain, something clean.The fire purred. My chest loosened. For a moment, it felt like breathing didn't hurt.
"You see?" Ayaka said. "Not everything you touch has to disappear."
I stared at the tiny trail of red-gold dust left in my hand. Maybe she was right.Maybe I could make the void create instead of erase.
A bell tolled somewhere above. Orientation part two.Ayaka stepped toward the door, tails curling like question marks."Come on, Nihilum. Let's go let the city learn us."
I lingered by the mirror, its surface reflecting both of me: the boy and the flame.I'll master this curse, I told it silently. Even if it devours me.
The mirror hummed back — not a warning this time, but a promise.
"Good line," Ayaka called over her shoulder. "We'll need it when we accidentally start a religion."
"We are not starting a religion," I said, following her out into the sky-bright corridors."Sure," she said. "Keep telling yourself that."
Celestara laughed around us, its mirrors turning like curious eyes, and I laughed too — because for once, the void in my chest felt almost full.