A small rustling noise broke your thoughts. Fibble, your owl companion, was stirring on his small bed perched by the window. With a shake of his feathers, he turned to look at you, his sharp golden eyes narrowing slightly.
“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he drawled, his tone thick with sarcasm. “No big deal, though. It’s not like you have important things to do today.”
You groaned, sitting up as Fibble fluttered down from his perch and onto the bed.
“Seriously,” he continued, hopping to the table, “if I were you, I’d be more concerned about what comes next. The headmage is due to show up soon with your schedule, and trust me—if you’re late, you’re going to wish you were still dreaming.”
The events of the previous day replayed in your mind. This world was still so strange to you. People spoke of fairy tales and myths as if they were history, and magic wasn’t just real—it was everywhere. You couldn’t help but wonder how you had ended up here.
Fibble interrupted your thoughts with a loud tap of his talon on the table.
“Any day now, Sleeping Beauty. Breakfast won’t make itself.”
Yawning, you got up and headed to the small kitchen. To your surprise, it was well-stocked. Opening the fridge, you found an assortment of foods, courtesy of Percival. Your eyes landed on a container of ready-to-make pancake batter. Perfect.
As you began preparing breakfast, Fibble was perched on the counter, his beak twitching as he sniffed the air.
“You better not mess this up,” he said, feigning disinterest. “Not that I need to eat, of course, but food is a good reason to get up the morning. Let’s hope it’s not a disaster.”
You rolled your eyes and continued cooking, the scent of pancakes filling the air. Fibble’s incessant chatter kept the room lively until the sound of the front door opening made you freeze. Expecting the headmage, you peeked around the corner. Instead, you saw someone unfamiliar.
The student standing in the doorway was as captivating as he was peculiar. His verdant complexion seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the kind of green that spoke of vibrant forests and whispered secrets of ancient magic. A cascade of dark green hair framed his angular face, with streaks of lighter hues catching the light like veins in marble. His sharp, pointed ears, adorned with an array of dangling charms and earrings, twitched slightly, as if attuned to every sound in the room.
Perched on his nose was a pair of gold-framed glasses that gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, emphasizing his piercing green eyes. Their cat-like pupils seemed to narrow as they surveyed the room with calm, calculating precision. A small constellation of freckles danced across his nose and cheeks, their darker hue contrasting beautifully with his skin.
But it was the tail that demanded attention. Thick, furry, and impossibly alive, it swayed behind him with a deliberate rhythm, its velvety texture betraying the menace lurking at its tip. There, the tail’s gaping maw opened and shut with unsettling precision, revealing rows of sharp, glinting teeth. The sound of its snapping filled the room with a sharp, rhythmic click, a warning as clear as the predatory glint in a beast's eyes.
Fibble immediately flapped his wings in alarm. “Intruder!” he squawked, darting toward the stranger. The tail moved like a striking viper. Its mouth snapped inches from Fibble’s feathers, its sharp teeth clamping shut with a resounding crack.
“Stop that!” the student scolded, grabbing his tail firmly. He held it back as one might restrain a misbehaving pet. “We talked about this! You can’t just attack people!”
The tail seemed to pout—if such a thing were possible—and reluctantly withdrew as it curled protectively around the boy’s legs. The student sighed, adjusting his glasses before turning to you.
“Sorry about that. He gets... overenthusiastic sometimes.”
You nodded cautiously, still processing the sight before you. Fibble squawked indignantly, darting back to your side.
“What is that thing? And what are you doing here?”
The student offered a small smile and bowed slightly. “I could ask you the same thing. You don’t exactly look like you belong.” He tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching again as his gaze swept over you.
“But perhaps introductions are in order. Rune Spindlewick, first year student at Everswell dorm, at your service.” He gave a theatrical bow, the dangling charms on his ears jingling softly.
Fibble bristled, still flapping nervously. “I don’t trust him!”
Rune straightened, his smile widening as his glasses caught the light. “Wise,” he said, the word laced with amusement. “But you’ll find I’m much more charming than dangerous—unless, of course, you give me reason to be otherwise.”
Fibble fluffed up his feathers, unimpressed. “And you just decided to waltz in uninvited? Charming indeed.”
“I heard some upperclassmen talking about this place saying it was abandoned. Guess they were wrong.” Rune’s tail swished guiltily behind him. “I really am sorry,” Rune said. “It’s just... curiosity got the better of me.”
Now that the initial shock had worn off, you noticed Rune’s demeanor was more apologetic than threatening. Though you can’t help but feel very curious about his tail.
Rune see your look and smile. He gestured toward his tail.
“Goblin faes all have these. They’re alive, have their own personalities, and sometimes their own ideas about what’s appropriate.” He gave the tail a pointed look. “I haven’t named mine yet—I’m still figuring out his personality. My cousin calls his tail Spaghetti because it’s obsessed with food, and my mother’s tail is Mimi because it’s super cuddly.”
Fibble snorted. “You’re telling me that thing doesn’t even have a name yet? What are you waiting for, a formal introduction?”
Rune shrugged. “It’s a process. Naming is important—it has to fit.”
He glanced at his tail and tilted his head slightly, as if communicating silently with it. “Go on,” he said softly. “Say hi.”
The tail perked up immediately, its movements shifting from lazy swishes to an almost curious energy. It slithered forward with surprising grace, stopping just in front of you. The toothy mouth parted slightly, but instead of snapping, the tail pressed its fluffy side gently against your arm. It took you a moment to process what was happening before you instinctively reached out to touch it. The fur was unbelievably soft—like the finest velvet mixed with downy feathers. The sensation was so surprising and pleasant that you couldn’t help thinking how luxurious it felt, almost like petting a living plush. You said out loud how soft you though it was.
Rune’s laugh broke through your thoughts. “He,” he said with a small smile, his tone patient but amused. “Goblin fae tails usually go by the same pronouns we use for ourselves. There are exceptions, but it’s ‘he’ for me.”
He continued watching as the tail snuggled closer, now practically draping itself over your hand. Rune smirked, clearly pleased. “His fur’s really soft, isn’t it? I use only the best products to keep him that way—soft and shiny. That’s weeks of effort you’re appreciating right now.”
The tail gave what seemed like a pleased little wiggle before curling snugly around your arm, its touch warm and oddly comforting. Rune tilted his head, his grin widening as he took in the scene. “Looks like he likes you,” he remarked. “That’s a good sign.”
The tail snuggled even closer, its soft fur brushing against your hand like it was trying to claim you. Fibble, who had been watching this with increasing annoyance, suddenly hopped forward and pointed at the tail dramatically.
“Hey! That’s MY human!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest and glaring at the tail as though it had personally offended him.
The tail ignored him entirely, continuing to nuzzle against your arm with smug satisfaction.
Rune raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “He’s got good taste,” he quipped, giving Fibble a teasing glance. “Don’t be jealous, Birdie.”
“Who said I was jealous ?!” Huffed Fibble, crossing his arms.
He looked away with exaggerated indignation. “I’m not jealous,” he muttered, though his sulking posture said otherwise.
Just as the tension between the two seemed to reach its peak, the door opened again. This time, it was the headmage, his imposing presence filling the room as he stepped inside. Rune straightened immediately, his tail withdrawing and curling protectively behind him. Fibble gave a dramatic sigh of relief.
“Finally, someone with some authority around here.”
Solon’s sharp gaze swept over the scene. “Well,” he said with a smile. “It seems we have quite the gathering. Already making friends?”
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