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“Do we have to do everything last minute?” Agott mutters, crouched next to a box of decorations.
The room buzzes with activity as the girls work on the tree, a whirlwind of glitter, tinsel, and occasional bickering filling the air. Tetia hovers gently in the air, her magic keeping her aloft as she carefully places a shining star near the top of the tree, her face glowing with concentration and a sprinkle of glitter that has somehow made its way onto her cheek.
Agott tugs a tangled strand of lights free with a sharp jerk. “Honestly, why is this such a mess? Who packed these last year? A wild animal?”
Tetia glances down from her precarious position. “Oh, stop grumbling. It’s not about perfection; it’s about the spirit of the season!” She gives an emphatic nod, nearly losing her balance in the process.
Coco, seated cross-legged on the floor, inspects a snowflake-shaped ornament, but glances over her shoulder. “I think it’s nice. A little chaotic, but it’s us.”
“Us-who?” Agott snaps, crossing her arms. “You may be, but definitely not me.”
Riche crouches by the box, carefully sorting through the decorations. “I think it looks fine so far. It’s not like anyone’s going to judge us for it.”
“I might,” Agott retorts, though her tone is more exasperated than truly harsh. “We’re supposed to represent the atelier with this thing. It shouldn’t look like a bunch of kids slapped it together in five minutes.”
Olruggio, seated by the window and tasked with fixing some broken ornaments from a toppled box, stretches with a groan and mutters under his breath, “Must be so hard… considering a bunch of kids did slap it together in five minutes.”
Qifrey chuckles softly from his desk, where he sits with a pen in hand, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he observes their antics. “Agott, dear, try to remember—it’s not about perfection. It’s about spirit.”
Riche flops onto a chair, balancing a bauble on her fingertip. “Yeah, spirit. Like the spirit of procrastination.” She smirks.
“What I’m trying to say,” Qifrey interjects gently, “is that not everything has to be perfect, Agott. And besides, not all the decorations are here yet.”
Agott freezes mid-grumble, turning to him sharply. “What do you mean, not here yet?”
Qifrey shrugs, his tone light. “There are still a few things we’ll need to pick up at the festival tonight.”
Tetia gasps, clasping her hands together. “Oh, that’s perfect! Then we can see all the shops, try all the sweets, and—”
“And waste even more time,” Agott interrupts, rolling her eyes.
Qifrey’s gaze shifts, subtle and unhurried, to where Olruggio sits by the window, quietly. He uses delicate bursts of magic to repair a cracked glass ornament, his brow furrowed in deep focus. Qifrey's eye softens imperceptibly, the faintest flicker of something private crossing his face before he composes himself. He taps his pen against the desk, a deliberate distraction.
“You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the festival,” Qifrey says smoothly, though there is the briefest pause before it—a hesitation so fleeting it might be missed entirely.
The girls return to their chatter, oblivious, but Qifrey’s glance lingers on Olruggio for half a beat longer than necessary. For his part, Olruggio pretends not to notice, his focus entirely on the tool in his hand. But his grip is just a touch tighter, his movements more measured.
The moment breaks when Olruggio clears his throat, setting the tool aside. “I’m not going,” he announces, his tone matter-of-fact.
Silence falls as the girls turn to him in unison, their expressions a mix of confusion and disappointment. Tetia, still holding a strand of tinsel, gapes. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”
“Why the surprise?” Olruggio replies calmly. “I didn’t go last year, and it went perfectly fine.”
“But you did go the year before that,” Tetia begins, her brow furrowing. “And it…” She trails off, looking thoughtful. “Actually, yeah, I was trying to make a point, but I think last year was the best one yet.”
Coco frowns, her fingers tightening around the ornament she’s holding. “But it won’t be the same without you.”
“Exactly!” Tetia exclaims, hopping down. “Who’s going to eat all the roasted chestnuts with us?”
“And carry everything we buy,” Riche adds.
Olruggio sighs heavily, as if the very idea of being dragged into the festivities is exhausting. “I’m sure you’ll manage. Qifrey’s going. He can carry your weight.”
“But it’s the festival…” Coco says softly.
“What’s there to see that I haven’t already?” Olruggio counters.
Tetia clicks her tongue. “I don’t know, maybe the real Astreveil? And don’t be surprised if you get nothing but coal this year!”
Olruggio’s expression softens just a fraction, as though he’s faintly amused. “Why would I get coal? I’ve been good all year. I’m sure Astreveil will understand I skipped his party for a good reason. Besides, maybe you could do a good deed and put in a kind word for me?”
“You wish,” Tetia huffs.
“Well then, I’ll just have to rely on Professor Qifrey,” Olruggio says with a faint smirk. “He can let Astreveil know I’ve been hard-working, avoided sweets before dinner, and always went to bed on time. Can I count on you, Professor?”
Qifrey, who has been silent during the exchange, rises from his chair. He crosses the room with his usual graceful ease, stopping just short of Olruggio’s chair. He’s clearly amused, his movements deliberate, almost theatrical.
“Of course.” His tone is light, directed at the girls, but as he leans down to pick up an errant piece of ribbon from the floor, his hand brushes ever so briefly against Olruggio’s.
He continues smoothly, his voice rich with playful warmth. “I’ll be sure to tell Astreveil all about your exemplary behavior this year—your tireless work ethic, your unparalleled patience… your undying festive spirit.” He straightens, his gaze flickering toward the girls with a smile. “Though, I suppose even Astreveil might be surprised to hear such glowing praise.”
The girls giggle, Tetia clasping her hands with delight, while Olruggio lets out a soft huff, his lips quirking into something caught between a smirk and an eyeroll. His voice, however, is steady. “You’re having far too much fun with this.”
“And you’re not having enough,” Qifrey counters lightly, already turning back to his desk, his cape swishing faintly behind him.
"I don't understand. Not every holiday requires my presence," Olruggio mutters, his voice firm. "I stay here and keep an eye on things. Someone has to."
Tetia sighs dramatically, tossing the tinsel over her shoulder. "Fine, but you're the one missing out."
"Alright, let’s not guilt Olruggio too much," Qifrey says, his voice smooth and light. "If he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to go. It’s his choice." He straightens, casting a quick, deliberate glance at Olruggio—subtle, but unreadable.
"Oll—" He catches himself, the syllable halting on his tongue. "All the sweets in the world won’t stop Tetia if she sets her mind on dragging you along."
Olruggio snorts faintly, shaking his head.
Tetia huffs, clearly missing the subtle exchange, and strikes a power pose. "Yeah, you heard him! I will drag you along someday. Just wait!"
The room settles back into its lively rhythm, the girls’ chatter resuming. But Coco, ever perceptive, catches the faintest flicker of something between the two professors—a shared understanding, unspoken but undeniable. She tilts her head slightly, as if trying to puzzle it out, but the thought is quickly lost in the sight of the snow outside.
The wind howls against the windows, whistling a melody only it seems to understand. Yet, despite the chill, it isn’t a harsh blizzard. Snow falls gently, weaving in twisting patterns shaped by the breeze.
Her thoughts drift to the legend of Astreveil, the mysterious figure said to embody the very essence of the holiday. The stories she hears about him aren’t just magical—they’re almost unreal. He is a spirit who appears once a year, granting wishes, filling the air with magic, and connecting people through his very presence.
As the group continues to discuss the festival details, Coco can’t help but feel a sense of awe. There is something about the way Astreveil’s magic works that makes her heart race with excitement. It isn’t just about the gifts or the sweets, though those are certainly part of it. It’s the feeling of being part of something larger, something more connected to the world around her.
Coco's heart swells with the thought. In just a few hours, the streets will be alive with that magic. The lights, the laughter, the way the festival brings people together—it isn’t just a celebration. It’s a reminder of the beauty in the world, of the magic that can be found even in the smallest things.
"Astreveil’s magic," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I can't wait to experience it."
"Yeah…" he starts, "I dont buy it."
From the small hill, the snow-covered town looks like a postcard, with tiny figures bustling about as they prepare for the festival. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s already hiding behind the taller rooftops, leaving the snow below glittering with tiny sparks. Coco rolls onto her side to get a better look at Tartah as he speaks, scrunching her nose a little when bits of snow flurry onto her face. Tartah, meanwhile, seems perfectly content, lying flat in his snow angel.
"What do you mean?"
"Astreveil' staff." He shrugs. "I just don’t believe in it. Not one bit.”
Coco lightly taps her cheeks—whether out of shock or the first biting chill of the luminafir snow, she isn’t sure.
“How can you see all this amazing magic that people create every day,” she asks, “and still have zero faith in Astreveil?”
"No, but that’s exactly the point!” Tartah exclaims, sitting up in outrage. “We’ve seen—come on, you and I have both seen the most unbelievable things. A castle beneath the sea, spellwoven flames, compass that guide their owners… And now, what? We’re supposed to believe in this… this spirit of the holiday?”
"I dont get it. Whats so wrong with that?"
"I—look. Just think about it. How is Astreveil’s magic any different from the things we’ve been taught? Can you really look me in the eyes and tell me your professors couldn’t pull off the same stunts if they wanted to?”
Coco smiles a little.
"So it's all a conspiracy?"
"Well… I didn’t say that.” Tartah stops frowning and lets out a relaxed chuckle. “It just doesn’t add up, that’s all.”
"And you really don’t believe in him? Not even a little bit?”
“I’m not a kid!”
Grunting a little, he gets to his feet, then adjusts his hat and offers Coco a hand to pull her up. Both of them sniffle in unison as they begin brushing the snow off their coats. It’s getting darker now—the kind of winter evening where you can practically watch the sun sink below the horizon.
“And you didn’t write him any letter?”
“Again, who do you think I am?” He pauses to sweep some snow off Coco’s back, waiting until she turns around again before continuing. “I did ask for a pyrograph, though.”
He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, while Coco smiles and reaches up to dust the snow off his hat. Suddenly, they both notice the lanterns in the town below flickering to life. Tartah glances nervously at the glowing streets, then back at Coco, and stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“Looks like they’ll be starting soon. I gotta go.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, his voice carrying a hint of childish reluctance.
“Have a good evening,” Coco says playfully. “Even if you’ll be working… hey, how about I promise to have enough fun for the both of us?”
He quickly glances at her, sniffs, and shifts on his feet.
“Coco…”
“Yeah?"
“I know we agreed not to exchange presents yet, but…” He pulls off his mittens and offers them to her. They’re soft and warm, like any other mittens, but Coco thinks… no, she feels as though they’re glowing. Her fingertips tingle slightly as she takes them, as if the warmth of sunlight itself has been captured and woven into the wool.
“I think you’ll really need these,” Tartah says with a crooked smile, “while you’re out there having fun for the both of us.”
The festival is at its peak when Coco makes her way back to the others, her cheeks pink from the cold, her heart buoyant with the excitement of the evening. The square hums with life: glowing lanterns sway gently in the winter breeze, music fills the air with jubilant melodies, and snowflakes fall steadily, their soft descent turning the cobblestones into a shimmering tapestry. The scent of roasted chestnuts, honey cakes, and mulled cider mingles with the crisp night air, wrapping the crowd in a warm, festive embrace.
Tetia spots Coco first, waving energetically. “Coco! Over here!” she calls, barely audible over the clamor of laughter and song.
Coco hurries over to the table where Tetia and Riche have claimed a small space among the crowd. Agott stands a little apart, her arms crossed, her expression guarded as usual. Still, there’s a hint of ease in the way she leans against the lamppost, her posture less rigid than normal.
“Finally,” Agott says when Coco reaches them, her tone half-mocking. “What took you so long? Did you lose your way?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Coco replies, brushing snowflakes from her cloak. “The market stalls were amazing.”
“Forget about that now,” Tetia says, handing her a steaming cup of cider. “You’re just in time! It’s starting!”
The music shifts, the melody swelling into something grand and reverent. A hush falls over the crowd as all eyes turn to the main square. On the raised platform at the center, a figure emerges—a man cloaked in crimson, silver embroidery glinting in the lamplight, his mask gleaming like frost.
Astreveil.
The crowd collectively gasps, and a ripple of awe sweeps through the square. He raises his gloved hand, a simple yet commanding gesture that seems to quiet the very snowfall around him. The lantern light catches on his silver accents, casting shimmering patterns across the snow-covered square.
“It’s him!” Tetia whispers, gripping Riche’s arm. “It’s really him!”
“He’s… incredible,” Riche admits, her usually skeptical tone replaced by quiet wonder.
Coco doesn’t say anything. She watches, entranced, as Astreveil steps forward with an almost otherworldly grace. The snow seems to fall more slowly around him, each flake glinting like tiny stars. He spreads his arms, and a wave of golden magic ripples out across the square, warm and soft like sunlight.
Astreveil’s voice resonates across the square, low and commanding, though his exact words are lost in the murmurs of the crowd. Then, with a deliberate motion, he clasps his hands together. There’s no sound of a clap—his movements are too slow for that—but an invisible wave ripples outward, strong enough to stir the girls' cloaks and send the faintest tremor through the air.
The wind picks up, carrying the faint chime of bells hanging from the rooftops. From the center of the platform, a ribbon of golden light materializes, twisting and curling like a living thing.
Tetia gasps, grabbing Coco’s sleeve as an idea strikes her. “Look how it’s moving! I bet it’s picking someone!”
“It’s beautiful,” Coco agrees softly, her wide eyes following the ribbon’s dance.
The shimmering light drifts toward the crowd, its movements slow and deliberate. Coco’s breath catches as it begins to float toward their little group. Tetia leans forward eagerly, clutching her chest, while Riche tilts her head, her expression unusually soft. Even Agott’s posture shifts, her sharp gaze fixed on the ribbon with a hint of uncertainty.
And then the ribbon arcs, brushing past Tetia before twirling near Riche, and finally lingering close to Agott. It hovers there for a moment, flickering like a candle in the wind, before soaring upward. In an instant, it bursts into a cascade of golden sparks, raining down over their heads like tiny stars.
The girls freeze, stunned into silence, before Tetia breaks it.
“It picked me,” she says firmly, her eyes shining with conviction.
Riche scoffs. “Hardly. It lingered by me longer.”
“You’re both wrong,” Agott mutters, crossing her arms. “It was just passing by. Past you two, at least. It didn’t go anywhere after me, did it?”
Tetia frowns. “If that’s how you see it, then explain why it swayed toward them after you!” She points toward Coco and Qifrey, standing quietly near Agott.
Coco laughs softly at their antics but doesn’t join in. “Come on,” she says lightly. “It’s part of the festival magic. Look, it’s happening to others too.” She gestures toward similar ribbons appearing in the crowd.
The argument escalates, each girl convinced the ribbon was meant for her. But Qifrey remains silent, his faint smile betraying nothing. His gaze lingers on the sparks as they fade into the night sky, a soft chuckle escaping him.
“He thinks he’s so clever,” Qifrey murmurs to himself, shaking his head.
The festival swells once more with music and laughter, the girls’ chatter blending seamlessly with the crowd’s jubilant noise. For the briefest of moments, Astreveil’s masked face tilts toward their corner of the square.
“Agott, look,” Tetia teases, nudging her. “He looked in our direction. He must’ve been looking for you.”
Agott rolls her eyes at Tetia’s comment, though there’s the faintest hint of pink dusting her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous. He wasn’t looking for anyone.”
Tetia grins, undeterred. “Oh, sure, keep telling yourself that.”
“It's obvious he’s watching everyone,” Riche interjects, her tone more pragmatic but still tinged with curiosity. “It’s his job, isn’t it? To make the festival magical for everyone.”
Coco listens quietly as the chatter flows around her. She glances back toward Astreveil’s platform, but the crimson-cloaked figure has already stepped away, disappearing into the crowd like a whisper in the snow.
The square buzzes with activity as the girls immerse themselves in the festival once more. They wander past market stalls laden with intricate trinkets and glittering ornaments. Tetia insists on trying every sweet she can find, dragging Coco and Riche along while Agott follows at a more reserved pace.
The group moves from stall to stall, marveling at hand-carved charms and brightly colored scarves. Street performers conjure illusions of glowing animals that prance through the air, eliciting delighted gasps from children and adults alike.
At one point, a troupe of dancers sweeps through the square, their movements fluid and precise, their costumes adorned with flickering lights. The girls pause to watch, captivated by the intricate choreography and the bursts of magic accompanying each turn and leap.
Qifrey, who has been quietly trailing them, steps closer. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asks, his voice warm but laced with his usual calm authority.
“Of course!” Tetia says brightly, spinning to face him. “This festival is amazing!”
Riche nods, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s even better than last year. The performances are top-notch.”
Coco beams. “It’s like a dream! Everything feels so… alive.”
Qifrey smiles at their enthusiasm, his gaze softening as he watches the girls. “I’m glad to hear it. But don’t forget—there’s more to see.”
As if on cue, a burst of laughter erupts nearby, drawing their attention to another section of the square where a game booth has attracted a lively crowd. Tetia immediately perks up. “Let’s go check it out!”
“You girls go ahead,” Qifrey suggests, his tone gentle. “I’ll stay here for now. Don’t wander too far; the fireworks will start soon.”
Tetia grabs Riche and Coco’s hands, pulling them toward the booth. Agott hesitates, glancing between them and Qifrey.
“Go,” Qifrey says softly, his smile encouraging. “I’ll catch up later.”
Agott narrows her eyes, as if trying to discern some hidden meaning in his words, but eventually shrugs and follows the others.
As the girls disappear into the crowd, Qifrey lingers near the lamppost, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant square. The music swells again, carrying with it the hum of anticipation that seems to ripple through the air. Above, the night sky stretches vast and dark, its expanse peppered with stars.
The festival is alive with joy, but the square begins to shift in its energy—hushed excitement replacing the earlier chaos. People start gathering in clusters, their faces tilted upward as if awaiting the first burst of light.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of bells signals the approaching finale. The fireworks are moments away.
Tetia, her cheeks still flushed with energy, points toward one of the nearby rooftops. “We’ll get the best view from up there!”
Agott groans. “Do you have to make everything an adventure?”
“Don't tell me you're scared!” Tetia insists, already grabbing both Coco and Riche and pulling them toward the side street where the building’s stairs could be accessed.
"Oh, I am most certainly not!" Agott said, standing stubbornly in the crowd. But seeing that the others aren’t coming back, she sighs, rubbs her temples, and follows them reluctantly.
The fire escape is icy, the cold metal biting at their hands. When Agott finally reaches the top, Coco is waiting to help her up. Together, they brush off the frost and clear small piles of snow to make a spot to sit. Riche’s foot slips on the icy rooftop, but Tetia quickly grabs her arm and steadies her.
"You know, it going to be my fault if you break your neck," Tetia says with a nervous laugh, "so please don't."
Coco glances at the crowd below. The tiny figures seem so far away, yet their excited voices carry all the way up to the rooftop. There’s a warmth to the gathering— a sense of shared joy that rises into the winter air like an invisible current.
A sudden hush fell over the crowd as the first firework soared into the sky—a single streak of silver that arced gracefully before bursting into a cascade of shimmering stardust. The sparks didn’t fall to the ground but hung suspended in the air, forming glowing constellations that slowly revolved as if the night sky itself had come alive.
Coco couldn’t stop smiling. She felt a profound sense of connection—not just to her friends, but to every soul below. It was as if she were seeing the magic through their eyes, feeling their awe as her own.
Tartar couldn’t possibly be right.
This wasn’t ordinary magic. It was something extraordinary, something only a being as unique as Astreveil could create.
Riche covers her ears as the air trembles with another volley, this one exploding into a flurry of glowing snowflakes that drifted down like real snow, only to vanish before touching the crowd. Gasps of delight rippled through the onlookers as the fireworks became more elaborate, each one more magical than the last.
The magic is interrupted by Tetia, who is suddenly flushed and shouting at the top of her lungs. Riche can’t hear her over the explosions, but Tetia’s urgency is clear as she tugs at her sleeve.
“-veil is here!” Tetia screams.
“What?” Riche shouts back.
Tetia opens her mouth again, but the only sound is the crackle and whistle of the fireworks.
“Go on, louder!” Riche urges.
Tetia takes a deep breath and shouts so loudly it seems the whole square must have heard her: “Astreveil is here! In the side street!”
Riche’s heart pounds as she looks in the direction Tetia points. Her breath quickens, and her legs feel like they’ve turned to lead.
Astreveil is really, actually here.
He floats just above the ground, the hem of his semi-transparent cloak trailing behind him like mist. He seems on the verge of dissolving into the air. Riche can’t blame him for trying to avoid the chaos of the crowd, but what she can’t understand is… who’s following him.
The second volley of fireworks ends, and Riche grabs Coco’s arm, clutching her shoulder as Agott leans in. Riche whispers, her voice trembling with excitement.
“Astreveil is right below us, near the house. And he’s not alone!”
The brief silence between bursts feels endless. Astreveil glances back, and Tetia reacts instantly, pressing the girls flat against the rooftop.
“Hey! What about me not breaking my neck?!” Riche hisses, but she doesn’t argue too much, realizing they need to stay hidden.
“Shush!” Tetia scolds, pressing a finger to her lips. “Look—they’re turning this way!”
The girls lie flat on the damp, snowy roof, snowflakes sneaking into their eyes and mouths. Still, they endure it, their attention fixed on Astreveil’s companion. One thing is certain—they aren’t a spirit. Their cloak is distinctly human.
Coco stares harder. She sees the mist of their breath, the curve of their smile, and the gleam of…
Oh no.
A single eye.
“It’s Professor Qifrey!” Coco exclaims.
“No way,” Agott growls, her tone almost a low snarl. Coco can’t help but think that Agott is one of those people who whispers loudly. If she just used her normal voice, it would probably be quieter.
“Yes way! Look—his cloak might be borrowed, but everything else—it’s him!” Coco insists, pointing emphatically.
“Yeah, well, I don’t really see the resemblance,” Riche starts, skepticism evident in her tone. But before she can finish, the figure below suddenly begins to speak.
“Stop fussing,” they say, their tone suspicious light. “You’re doing fine.”
Qifrey’s voice carries just enough for the girls to catch snippets of the conversation, leaving no room for doubt—it is, without question, him.
The girls fall silent, their attention locked on the scene below. Qifrey and Astreveil seem to be deep in conversation, though Qifrey is unusually playful. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, idly kicking at the snow, and occasionally glances at Astreveil with a light, almost mischievous smile.
Back in the square, a golden phoenix emerged from one burst, its wings spreading wide as it soared above the festival, leaving a trail of glimmering embers in its wake. But the girls craned their necks to follow the conversation between their professor and the enigmatic spirit of Luminoux.
Astreveil’s shoulders—or what might pass for shoulders beneath the flowing, indistinct lines of his mantle—tense slightly. His voice, muffled but clear enough, carries a hint of irritation: “…completely ridiculous. The entire idea is absurd. You’ve gone mad.”
“Oh, come on,” Qifrey counters with a soft chuckle. “It’s a festival. For everyone, even for you.”
“I’m here to work, not to celebrate,” Astreveil snaps, his tone clipped. “I need to maintain control.”
“And after all that hard work, don’t you think you’ve earned a little rest?”
Astreveil hesitates, his silence stretching long enough to betray a crack in his resolve.
“Just a little?” Qifrey purrs, his tone coaxing. He tilts his head and makes an expression so heartbreakingly pleading that the girls, spying from above, silently agree it’s the most pitiable face they’ve ever seen anyone make.
Agott blinks. “Is he teasing Astreveil?”
“I think so?” Coco responds hesitantly, squinting down at the scene.
“Does that make them friends?” Agott presses, her voice edged with disbelief.
“Oh, I bet it does!” Tetia exclaims enthusiastically, clutching fistfuls of snow in her hands as she speaks. Riche glances at the little clumps Tetia is holding, then begins shaping the leftover snow near her into an impossibly tiny snowman.
Tetia’s eyes light up suddenly, her face aglow with inspiration. “But more importantly—does this mean we’re going to get way more presents?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Coco murmurs with a nervous laugh, but she doesn’t get the chance to finish her thought.
Astreveil let out a resigned sigh, though his posture softened. “I’ve already put myself at risk. If someone catches us - it's your fault, you know.”
“Of course it is,” Qifrey says smoothly, stepping closer. His hand brushes against Astreveil’s arm, and the girls freeze, holding their breath as the scene unfoldes.
“Qifrey’s awfully… close,” Riche murmurs, her eyes narrowing.
Before anyone could respond, Qifrey leaned in even closer. His expression shifts, his usual calm replaced by something warmer, softer. His voice, when it came, is too low for the girls to catch entirely, but they hear one clear word: “Relax.”
Agott hides her flushed face in her hands, unwilling to watch what happens next, as a series of fireworks forms a great shimmering tree in the sky. Its branches twinkling with multicolored lights like the Festival itself. Qifrey tilts his head and met Astreveil's lips in a brief but unmistakable kiss.
The fireworks dissolves into a rain of golden petals, each one sparkling before fading away.
Coco feels like her chest might tear in two, so strongly is her heart pounding. Is this really who they are now? Some kind of freaks, secretly watching their professor kiss the most incredible being in the world?
“Oh, I think this…” Tetia begins, wiggling her feet in satisfaction. “Makes them really, really good friends.”
“Yuck,” Riche groans, sticking her tongue out.
“I’m afraid this is not what they call ‘friends’ anymore,” Coco says, groaning in pain.
“Gross!” Agott suddenly bursts with rage, kicking a chunk of snow off the roof. “How can you all say those things so calmly when… you know,” she grows serious, her voice almost sad. “Professor Olruggio exists.”
The final sequence of fireworks is the most breathtaking, but the girls couldn't care less. A constellation-like shape of Astreveil appears, his iconic staff raised high as if blessing the crowd. His figure seems to smile before transforming into an explosion of vibrant colors that paints the entire sky. But all Coco can think about is Olruggio, who stayed behind in their atelier to work and has no idea what just happened. Her previously warm cheeks suddenly flush with cold. It’s such a harsh, cruel cold… it feels like it’s breaking her heart. The crowd erupts into cheers, the sound reverberating like a wave of joy.
As the final bursts of light fade, leaving the night sky dark and quiet once more, the crowd breaks into applause. The girls climb down from the rooftop. The air is crisp, tinged with the faint scent of pine and mulled cider, but the festive warmth feels distant now, muted by the strange scene they’ve just witnessed.
They had thought about going back to the festival, but by now, the lively stream of cheerful people seems impossible to rejoin. Instead, they linger on the outskirts—where the noise of the parade meets the stillness of empty houses with darkened windows. Their inhabitants are somewhere in the heart of the celebration, laughing and reveling. And these houses simply wait, patient and quiet, for their owners to return. Once they did, life would resume its ordinary rhythm, leaving no trace of the festival behind—except, perhaps, the gifts.
The girls walk in this in-between space: golden light and noise to their left, cold and darkness to their right. Coco feels like her soul mirrored this split. Yes, there was still the earlier joy of festival magic lingering in her chest, but it had been trampled under the weight of new, heavy worries.
"Anyone else feel like they just died a little bit back there, or is it just me?" Tetia’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Oh yes! Yes, exactly!” Riche throws her arms up dramatically. “Thank you for putting it into words!”
"My head is pounding," Agott adds hesitantly. "I know obsessing over it won’t solve anything, but I can’t stop replaying everything in my mind. It just gets louder, and louder, and louder."
Without meaning to, they all sigh at once.
"We really need to do something," Agott says, her words coming out on the exhale.
Coco, who had been quiet until now, stops mid-step. She glances back down a narrow alley that led toward the glowing heart of the festivities, where faint flickers of light danced against the night sky. Her chest tightens again—not from the cold, but from the weight of indecision.
“Maybe…” she starts hesitantly, clutching her mittens. “Maybe we should go back to the atelier.”
Tetia freezes, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “Go back? Are you serious? After that?”
“Well, she might be right,” Agott interjects. “Olruggio should know what’s going on. We can’t just act like nothing happened.”
Tetia bounces slightly on her toes, her expression still flushed with the residual glow of the festival. “But what if…” Her voice trails off, and her face grow thoughtful. “What if this isn’t something Olruggio’s supposed to know?”
The others blink at her, stunned into silence.
“What are you saying?” Agott asks sharply. “That we should lie to Olruggio’s face?”
“No! I just mean…” Tetia fidgets, tugging at her scarf. “Maybe it’s not our place to tell. Maybe Qifrey and Astreveil—whatever that was—maybe it’s… personal?”
Agott lets out a loud scoff. “Personal? If it’s personal, Qifrey shouldn’t have been so public about it!”
Tetia sighs dramatically and flopps down onto a nearby bench. The others hesitate but eventually sit beside her.
“This is insane,” Tetia groans. “We shouldn’t even be thinking about this! We should be at the festival, having fun, eating something amazing, for goodness’ sake.” She covers her face with her hands for a moment, then peeks out. “Actually… I think I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I am too,” Riche admitts, her tone unusually subdued.
They fall silent, their gazes drifting toward the glittering square. Now… the festival doesn’t seem as uninviting as it had a moment ago. Remembering how the night had begun, they couldn’t help but want to feel that joy again.
“You know,” Coco starts quietly. “Maybe we can’t talk to Olruggio about this. But we can confront Qifrey.”
“I don’t know…” Tetia hesitates. “In a way, it’s kind of our fault for seeing what we did.”
“Yeah, but it’s Qifrey’s fault that he has a secret life he’s hiding from everyone,” Riche counters.
Riche stands abruptly, brushing the snow off her skirt. “What’s there to decide? We confront him. If he’s going to act this ridiculous, he owes us an explanation.”
“And if he doesn’t want to?” Coco asks softly, raising an eyebrow.
Agott crosses her arms, her expression set. “Then he’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”
Tetia looks between them, her eyes bright with something halfway between hesitation and excitement. “Alright, alright. But as a reward for everything we’ve been through, we’re going to eat right after. Maybe some roasted chestnuts. Or those little honey cakes. Or both! And definitely some of that spiced cider!"
Coco lingers a moment longer, glancing at the darkened alleyway once more. Then she shake her head, a small, determined smile tugging at her lips, and follows the others into the warm, golden glow of the celebration.
The festival seems even more vibrant as the girls thread their way back into the crowd. The square is alive with a dazzling array of colors and sounds: lanterns in every hue sway in the breeze, casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the cobblestones below. Stalls brim with trinkets, treats, and handmade crafts, their vendors cheerfully calling out to passersby. Tetia clutches her scarf tightly as she scans the crowd.
“There!” she whispers sharply, pointing toward the edge of the square.
Qifrey is standing near a brightly decorated booth, seemingly engrossed in conversation with a merchant. His demeanor is calm, casual, as though nothing had happened. He gestures to a display of delicate glass ornaments, smiling faintly.
“Is he—shopping?” Riche mutters, incredulous.
Agott narrows her eyes. “Unbelievable. He just kissed a festival spirit, and now he’s picking out tree decorations?”
“I mean, priorities, I guess,” Tetia offers weakly, though her lips twitch as if she’s holding back a grin.
Coco says nothing, her chest tightening as she watches Qifrey’s calm, unbothered demeanor. This was their chance. Whatever explanations he had to offer, they couldn’t let him slip away without hearing them.
“Alright,” Agott says briskly, rolling her shoulders like she’s about to head into battle. “We’re doing this. Now.”
As a group, they strode forward, Riche trailing slightly, muttering something about how awkward this was going to be. Qifrey glances up just as they reach him, his smile softening into something warmer.
“Ah, girls. Enjoying the festival?” His voice is as smooth as ever, but there is a flicker of something in his gaze—curiosity, perhaps. "I haven't seen you in a while, wh-"
“Don’t ‘ah, girls’ us!” Agott burstes out, arms crossed. “We saw you!”
Qifrey blinks, visibly startled, his mouth slightly open in shock at being interrupted so abruptly. Then, tilting his head ever so slightly, he looks at them with a mix of confusion and mild apprehension, as if he truly has no idea what’s going on.
“Saw me? Whatever do you mean?” he asks, letting out a soft, but nervous laugh.
“Oh, don’t play coy!” Agott snapps. “We saw you with Astreveil. And… that!” She gestured vaguely, her face flushing.
It’s as if a jolt of electricity runs through Qifrey. For a fraction of a second, his carefully composed expression falters—a flicker of shock, embarrassment, and perhaps something unnameable crossing his face. His smile lingers, though it’s clear it’s holding on by a thread. His gaze shifts between the girls one by one, as if searching for an ally, someone to pull him out of this situation.
Finally, he clears his throat, his hand trembling slightly as he lifts it to cover his mouth, stalling for time.
“Ah. That,” he says at last, his voice a little quieter than usual, with a forced casualness that doesn’t quite land.
“Yes, that!” Tetia chimes in, her hands flying up. “What was that? Are you and Astreveil friends? More than friends? Secret magical allies? Are we supposed to know this? Are we not supposed to know this?!”
Coco bites her lip, stepping forward hesitantly. “Professor Qifrey… we’re not trying to invade your privacy. But… it was kind of… a lot. And we’re worried. About professor Orluggio. About you...”
For a moment, Qifrey doesn’t respond. His gaze softens a little bit as he looked at them, lingering on Coco’s earnest expression. Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Alright,” he says quietly. “I owe you an explanation. But not here.”
Agott huffs, crossing her arms again. “Why not? Afraid Astreveil will swoop in and interrupt?”
A flicker of amusement crosses Qifrey’s face. “No, Agott. But some conversations are better had away from curious ears. I didn’t even expect you to follow me so closely.”
“You didn’t exactly make it subtle,” Riche grumbles.
Qifrey chuckles softly. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward a quieter corner of the square. “Come on, then. But after this, you’re going to let the festival be what it’s meant to be—joyful. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Tetia said quickly. "And—you’re paying for all the food we pick. Even if it goes over the today's budget."
The tension broke slightly as the girls giggled, though Coco’s stomach still churns with unease. Her mittened hands ball into fists, pressing against her sides. The glow of the festival lights doesn’t feel warm anymore; instead, it feels heavy, like it's pressing down on her chest. She tries to take a deep breath, but the knot of worry in her stomach wouldn’t loosen. The group follow their professor toward the quieter edge of the square, where the golden glow of the lanterns meets the stillness of the night.
“Alright,” he begins, clasping his hands together. “I understand you have questions.”
“More like a ton of questions,” Tetia blurts. “Like, what was that? And why does no one know about this? Are you secretly married? Are we going to have a Luminoux Spirit as a professor-in-law? You do understand, that he's like… a terrible partner. He’s around only one night a year! Are you sure you want to be in love with someone like that?"
Agott cuts in, crossing her arms. “And more importantly, are you just betraying Olruggio behind his back? Because if you are, we-”
Qifrey holds up a hand, cutting her off gently. “Let me explain.” He glances around conspiratorially before leaning closer, as if sharing a great secret.
“You are forgetting that Astreveil isn’t just a magical figure. He is the essence of the season itself—the spirit of generosity, connection, and wonder.”
As he speaks, his hands move subtly, tracing shapes in the air, almost like he’s weaving the meaning of his words into the moment. There’s a faint, wistful smile on his lips, but his eye betrays something deeper—a mix of awe and bittersweet acceptance. His tone is warm, but there’s a weight to it, as though he’s revealing something he rarely puts into words.
“When someone takes part in spreading his magic—whether through granting wishes, crafting gifts, or lighting up the hearts of others—it’s said that they share a moment of deep understanding with him. A kiss, in this case, is not an ordinary gesture. It’s an expression of gratitude for the magic he represents and a way of becoming part of that magic yourself.”
The girls blink, processing this. Coco tilts her head. “So… it wasn’t romantic?”
Qifrey smiles faintly. “Not in the way you’re imagining, no." He paused, letting his words hang in the air like the faint shimmer of snowflakes. “It’s not about romance or possession. It’s about giving back to something greater than ourselves—acknowledging the beauty of shared wonder.”
Tetia gasps, clasping her hands together. “Oh, that’s so beautiful! It’s like he blesses you with his magic, and you thank him with a kiss!”
Riche shrugs. “Weird."
“Yes, it’s not your everyday tradition,” he acknowledges, his voice soft but steady. “But the situation is becoming clear, isn't it?”
“Sort of,” she murmurs.
Suddenly, Agott stomps her foot, her patience wearing thin. "You don't think we're going to back off just because you told us a story, do you?" she demands, her voice sharp. Qifrey lets out a long, defeated sigh, as if he knew this question was coming. "No more excuses, just tell us straight. Does Olruggio know about this ‘tradition’?”
Qifrey chuckles again, his tone calm. “Of course he does. In fact, he’s the one who told me it’s important to honor Astreveil in this way.”
The response is met with a stunned silence. The girls exchange incredulous glances, their jaws slightly slack. Coco fells a mix of disbelief and confusion, her mind still trying to comprehend the weight of his words.
Riche blinks twice, her eyebrows raised high, clearly not sure how to react. Finally, she shrugs, her voice deadpan. “That’s even weirder.”
“No-no, that’s wonderful!" Tetia looks relieved. "Then Olruggio’s not mad?”
“Not at all,” Qifrey replies smoothly. “He understands the importance of Astreveil’s role. It’s part of the magic of the season.”
Coco smiles, clearly reassured, her posture relaxing as the tension from before begins to melt away. “It’s all about keeping the magic alive for everyone, right?” she says, her voice lighter now.
Qifrey nods, his expression softening as a weight seems to lift off his shoulders. “Exactly. Astreveil’s magic isn’t just about gifts—it’s about bringing people together, sharing joy, and keeping the wonder alive." He leans in slightly, placing his hands gently on the girls' shoulders. His tone is more serious now, but there's a warmth to it that reflects the care he has for them. "I want you to listen carefully. I would never do anything to jeopardize the bond I share with Olruggio—" He falters slightly, his words slowing as he tries to find the right way to express himself, careful not to have his words twisted. "And with all of you too, of course."
Tetia sighs dreamily. “That’s so romantic. It’s like you and Olruggio are working together to keep the magic going!”
Coco looks at Qifrey, still feeling a strange heaviness in her chest. She swallows the uneasy knot in her throat, hoping her words come out steady. “Thank you for telling us,” she says quietly, the weight of the conversation lingering in her voice.
Qifrey inclines his head, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re welcome, Coco. And… I’m sorry if any of this caused you distress. That was never my intention.” His gaze softens, though his words seem carefully measured.
Tetia suddenly claps her hands, her expression brightening as if the whole conversation is already behind her. “Well! Now that’s settled… honey cakes? Hot cider? Maybe some roasted chestnuts?”
“Don’t forget the pastries,” Riche adds with a smirk, barely waiting for a response before adding, “A proper festival has to have them.”
“Yes, yes! And pastries!” Tetia grins, grabbing Coco’s arm with enthusiasm. “Come on, we earned this!”
Coco can’t help but smile. The mood lightens instantly, her worries forgotten, replaced by the excitement of the upcoming festivities. The laughter of the girls fills the air, and for a moment, Coco feels the warmth of their camaraderie wrap around her like a comforting blanket. She follows, her steps lighter, though something still stirs quietly inside her—an undercurrent of wonder, of something she’s still processing.
As the girls turn back toward the festival, their voices rising in mirth, Qifrey watches them go, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. He stays for a moment longer, his gaze lifting to the stars above. The night feels colder now, but there's a warmth inside him, a fluttering, a strange rush of something he hasn’t quite put into words. His heart beats a little too fast, a little too loud—he wonders if anyone could hear it, or if it’s just the weight of everything building up at once.
He lets out a slow breath, the cold air mixing with the warmth of the moment. His eye trails the girls’ retreating figures, the sounds of their laughter still echoing faintly in his mind. There’s something peaceful about it all, something grounding, but beneath the surface, his pulse is a bit too quick, his thoughts tangled in ways he’s not used to.
It’s not the first time he’s felt this strange pressure, this flutter of nerves that slips through his usually composed exterior.
He leans on a lantern, and he feels a brief moment of clarity as the wind whispers past him. The weight of his own emotions, the warmth of their company, the promise of a festival full of life—all of it swirls together in an almost dizzying way.
He chuckles to himself, a dry, almost amused sound. "Oh dear… I will not survive another festival with them."
Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The night air is crisp, the faintest trace of frost clinging to the edges of the streetlights as Coco and Agott walk side by side. The festival bustle seems to fade into the distance, a soft murmur of laughter and music lingering in the background. The snowflakes fall steadily, dusting the cobblestones and catching on their coats, turning the night into a scene from a dream.
“Well, tonight was weird,” Coco says quietly, breaking the silence. Her breath is visible, small puffs in the cold air, her words coming out a little more quietly than she intends.
Agott snorts softly, her coat swishing as she walks. “Yeah, tell me about it,” she replies, her voice tinged with an amused but contemplative tone.
They fall into an easy rhythm, the soft crunch of their boots in the snow the only sound between them for a while. Coco’s thoughts drift briefly to Professor, his careful words about gratitude, the soft brush of his lips in that fleeting moment. The kiss. She shivers at the memory, but not from the cold. Her heart still races a little, unsure how to process it.
“About Professor and Asteveil... Did you think it was... too much?” Coco asks, her voice tentative as she looks at Agott. She’s not sure what she expects, but there’s a part of her that wants to understand the Agott's thoughts.
Agott glances at her with an unreadable expression. “It was... unexpected,” she admits. “But that’s the tradition, isn’t it? To express thanks in whatever way feels right.” Her tone is thoughtful, but Coco notices how her eyes flicker briefly away, as if she’s retreating into her thoughts.
“Mm. Everyone seems to have their own way of doing it,” Coco murmurs. “I think Tetia being loud is her way of expressing gratitude too...” She laughs softly, shaking her head at the memory of Tetia’s exuberance.
“Really?” Agott raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Well that one is defenetly too much.”
Their conversation falls into a comfortable silence again. The snowflakes drift down around them, and Coco can hear the faint chatter of Tetia and Riche infront of them, their voices carrying through the night.
“We’re going to get the food! Are you two coming or not?!” Tetia calls while turning back, her voice bright and cheery, carrying the familiar energy she always seems to bring with her. “Come on! Don’t be slowpokes!”
Coco looks up at them, a smile forming on her lips. “Go on ahead,” she calls back, her tone light. “We’ll catch up later.”
Tetia gives them an exaggerated pout. “Fine! But don’t blame me when you’re missing out on the flatbread pockets,” she teases, winking at them before turning and pulling Riche along with her, the two disappearing into the night.
Coco and Agott stand there, alone now, the world quieting around them. Agott glances over at Coco, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. “It’s strange,” she murmurs, her voice almost soft. “How she can make everything feel... urgent.”
Coco chuckles, but the sound feels more nervous than she intends. “Yeah, she’s like that. Can’t sit still for too long.”
For a moment, there’s just silence. The snow falls gently, covering the cobblestones, the night feeling more intimate now. Coco hesitates, then turns to Agott.
“Do you want it too?” she asks, her voice quieter now, the question hanging in the air between them. Her pulse quickens as she watches Agott’s reaction, her heart picking up its pace.
She flicks a glance at Coco, her dark eyes momentarily catching the light.
Coco feels her pulse quicken, a strange flutter in her chest as she watches Agott's eyes, now glimmering with a touch of frost. Her lashes, dark as the night sky, have tiny snowflakes caught in them, like a winter fairytale character come to life. For a moment, the world feels still around them, the quiet snowfall blanketing everything in a hushed glow.
“I think you’re supposed to do it with the fireworks,” Agott says after a moment, her voice lighter, a little uncertain, as if she’s unsure whether to continue.
Coco tilts her head slightly, a look of confusion crossing her face. “The fireworks?” she repeats slowly, the word hanging in the air.
For a moment, the words hang there, harmless. Then, like the snowflakes melting on her cloak, realization dawns. Coco’s cheeks bloom with a soft pink, her eyes widening as the unintended meaning of her question becomes clear. But the damage is done, and now Coco’s own thoughts betray her, creeping toward the implication she hadn’t intended. Her blush deepens, spreading like wildfire, and she lowers her hands, too embarrassed to meet Agott’s eyes.
“I wasn’t talking about fireworks,” she repeats softly, almost to herself now, before glancing nervously back at Agott. Her voice drops to a near-whisper as she clarifies, “I was asking if you wanted to join the girls.”
Agott’s face falters for just a second. Her mouth twitches, like she’s about to say something, but then she stops, unsure. She looks away for a moment, her breath coming out in soft clouds in the crisp air, and Coco watches her intently, noticing how Agott’s curls shift slightly under her hat.
“I—” Agott starts, her voice quieter, more vulnerable than usual. “I thought we... we’re just... I’m grateful,” she says, the words faltering. “Like professor said… I mean... I’m grateful, you know?”
She shakes her head, for some reason pulls her hat down, almost hiding her eyes, and says "Im sorry. Yes, I will have flatbread pockets." She falters, her eyes drifting away for just a second before looking back at Coco.
Coco catches that hesitation, the vulnerability she’s not used to seeing in Agott, and it causes her heart to flutter even faster. She takes a slow step closer, her breath warm in the cold night, her gaze soft but steady.
“I don’t know how to... tell this,” Agott murmurs, more to herself than to Coco.
She can’t help but smile a little, sensing the uncertainty in Agott’s voice. “I know,” she says softly, moving a step closer. Her voice is warm and calm, offering something steady in the quiet night.
"I think I understand what you’re feeling.” She pauses, her gaze flickering with intensity. “It’s hard sometimes to be honest, right? But I feel it too. I’m so thankful for everyone in the atelier—for everything we’ve shared.”
Agott looks up at her then, her eyes catching Coco’s, her lips trembling slightly as if she’s trying to hold back something. She steps back a little, but it’s only for a moment.
Coco’s voice grows softer. “And of course,” she says, her tone light but full of sincerity, “I’m especially thankful for you too, Agott.”
Coco steps closer, her breath mixing with Agott’s in the cold air. She reaches out gently, brushing her hand against Agott’s. The touch is soft, tentative, but it lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and it sends a warmth through Coco’s chest.
Agott looks up again, her eyes wide but soft, and for a moment, they stand there in the silence, neither of them speaking. The snow falls around them, and everything else fades away.
"Remember what Tetia said? You bless me with your magic, and I thank you with a kiss." Coco sais, and her cheeks flush. “I think I might agree with that kind of exchange.”
Without thinking, Coco leans in, her lips brushing against Agott’s cheek, soft and lingering. It’s a fleeting moment, but it feels like time has stopped. Agott freezes for a second, and then, just as quickly, she smiles—a shy but genuine smile, full of warmth.
“Maybe,” Coco whispers, her voice teasing but tender, “this can be our special way of saying thank you.”
Agott doesn’t answer right away. She just watches Coco, the faintest pink coloring her cheeks. After a moment, she nods softly, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.
“Maybe,” she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No, listen, listen,” Qifrey says, his tone both incredulous and amused. “I am trying my absolute best to keep my composure while I’m surrounded. I have no idea what they’re all chattering about, and then Tetia just blurts out: You’re cheating on Olruggio!”
Olruggio, mid-sip of his mulled wine, chokes, coughing lightly as he sets his glass down. “You waited until I took a drink to say that, didn’t you?” he says, though a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
The atelier is quiet, the kind of silence that only settles in the dead of night. The soft crackle of the fire is the only sound, accompanied by the faint hum of the glowing tree branch tips scattered around the room. It’s past one in the morning now, the peak of their brightness, casting a gentle, magical light across the space. These are the final moments of the festival’s fleeting enchantment, and both of them seem intent on savoring them.
Olruggio leans back, still wearing the comfortable, oversized shirt he changed into after discarding the Astreveil costume. Qifrey sits near him at the low table, a glass in his hands, his hair slightly disheveled from the day’s events.
His grin is unrepentant as he leans forward, setting his glass down. “I swear, I full-on died a little bit back there. My brain was working so hard it felt like steam was coming out of my ears. I had to stall for time, so I led them to a quieter spot, hoping to think of something convincing while we walked. It was like lightning bolts were flying around in my head, trying to come up with a story they’d believe.”
“And what? You told them Astreveil doesn’t exist?” Olruggio asks, one eyebrow raised.
“What? No!” Qifrey looks scandalized. “That would’ve ruined the whole festival for them!"
Olruggio gives a faint chuckle, sipping again.
"But still,” Qifrey continues, leaning back with a sigh. “They weren’t making it easy for me. Tetia started shrieking that Astreveil is the worst boyfriend in the world—something like, he only comes to see you once a year!"
Qifrey mimics Tetia’s high-pitched voice, his impression overly dramatic hands flailing in exaggerated gestures. Olruggio chuckles despite himself, a quiet, genuine laugh that grows into a broader grin as he watches Qifrey’s antics. There’s something endearing about the way Qifrey throws himself into the imitation, his usual composed demeanor completely abandoned. "And then she’s all, who knows what he’s doing the rest of the time, having fun with someone else while you're stuck here!”
“She did not say that,” Olruggio says, his tone skeptical.
“Na-ah, you weren’t there,” Qifrey replies, pointing a finger at him with mock severity. “I was. I get to tell the story.”
Olruggio shakes his head, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. “You know, I hope you’ve learned your lesson. You did something reckless, and you got what you deserved.”
“Wow,” Qifrey says, feigning offense. “And this, coming from the man who sent me a magical ribbon through an entire crowd on the townsquare!”
"Honestly! I don't care what the kids say. Don’t blame me if you’re on the coal list tomorrow morning," Olruggio declares, throwing his hands up dramatically before giving Qifrey a light nudge in the ribs with his elbow.
“Oh, no,” Qifrey says, feigning shock, before breaking into a sly grin. “Excuse me, but are you forgetting what we just established?” He leans forward, tapping Olruggio lightly on the forehead. “The Astreveil…” Then he taps his nose. “Who is my lifelong partner…” And finally, he pauses for dramatic effect, looking at Olruggio over the rim of his glasses, before tapping his nose again. “...is giving me all the presents in the world!”
Olruggio, watching Qifrey for a moment, decides it’s his turn to play along. He leans in, adopting a teasing tone. “I can’t believe you actually picked some ancient holiday spirit,” he says, wiping away an imaginary tear, “over me.”
“What could I do?” Qifrey replies with a theatrical sigh, his voice dripping with mock regret. “His long beard won me over.”
Olruggio gasps in exaggerated outrage, leaning closer with wide eyes. “Oh, so you have a thing for long beards now? Does this mean I finally have permission to grow one?”
Qifrey suddenly bursts into laughter, his reaction as genuine as it is unexpected. He covers his mouth with one hand, his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his amusement. To him, it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all night, his laugh soft and infectious.
Olruggio watches him quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. The warmth of Qifrey’s laughter, so unguarded and genuine, lingers in the air like the soft glow of the enchanted tree outside. But as Qifrey’s laugh fades, he notices something unexpected: Olruggio’s expression hasn’t shifted back to teasing. His face remains sincere—almost thoughtful—and it dawns on Qifrey that the comment wasn’t entirely a joke.
The realization sobers him quickly, his tone becoming dry but fond as he waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, no, this stops now,” he says, shaking his head as if to ward off the image of Olruggio with a dorky beard. “Not happening.”
Olruggio chuckles, leaning back and cradling his glass again. “I guess that’s fair,” he says lightly, though there’s a glint of something softer in his gaze.