[Winx Club] The Fairy Godmother (Anti-Hero / Reincarnation)

[VitahAR]

Title: The Fairy Godmother
Fandom: Winx Club
Tags: Anti-Hero, Transmigration / Reincarnation, Crime, Magic, Darker Themes

Synopsis:
Madam Lefevre never dreamt of becoming a fairy. She dreamt of selling them. Her plan was simple: acquire the full rights to the global Winx franchise and make millions off the merchandise. Just business. But a ruthless business rival's bullet made some unexpected corrections to her grand design. Now, her prestigious seat on the board of directors has been replaced by a room with pink wallpaper in Gardenia. Instead of a custom Maybach, she's stuck riding the school bus. And instead of competent subordinates, she is surrounded by a group of hysterical teenagers. She is trapped in the body of Bloom, but the mind and ruthless corporate experience remain all hers.

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[VitahAR]

In a vast, lavishly furnished living room with a panoramic view of the shimmering Eiffel Tower sat Dominique Lefevre. A third-generation aristocrat and head of an international holding company. She took off her thin-rimmed glasses and placed them on a stack of documents labeled Rainbow Media. For two months she had studied this company, locking onto it like a hunter stalking prey. The ability of these people to make money practically out of thin air commanded her genuine respect.

Dominique walked over to the tall window and stepped out onto the terrace. Nighttime Paris, sprawling beneath her, always brought on a strange melancholy, but tonight she had no time for contemplation. She just needed to clear her head, to take a breath of cool air before another session of madness. Oh yes, she knew perfectly well what madness was. Madness, as a certain video game character used to say, is doing the exact same thing over and over again, hoping for a change. That was exactly what she had been doing all day, and now she had to keep going.

She returned to the room and sank into a deep armchair. She needed to understand what their phenomenal success was built upon, and what had caused its current decline. The remote was already at hand. One click, and the room filled with sound.

"If you desire, you can become one of us..."

A familiar melody poured from the speakers. On the screen, five girls, drawn as if the animator was in a massive hurry, began to sing their simple little song. The intro finally ended, and another episode began.

Three witches in equally tasteless outfits appeared on the screen once again.

Here go these three hysterics again, Dominique thought, swiping her fingers across the touch panel on the armrest with mild irritation. Next to the main hologram of the cartoon, several smaller windows flared to life.

The reports from all her analysts merged into three clear conclusions for her.

First: the transition to 3D graphics did the cartoon no favors. The fans universally trashed it. The picture had lost its naive charm, becoming plastic and lifeless.

Second: the fourth season became the point of no return, after which the show apparently stopped being interesting. The plot started running in circles, cannibalizing itself without bringing anything new to the table.

And third, the most obvious thing that she could see on the screen right now—the villains. The exact same three witches that everyone was already sick to death of.

The picture was clear. The formula for success was brilliant in its simplicity, but its creators had gotten lazy. They stopped developing their flagship franchise and started mindlessly milking it.

Dominique smirked. They were sitting on a gold mine and couldn't even mine it properly, even though the solution was right on the surface. These fairies weren't created for cartoons; they were created to sell. Absolutely anything.

The toys were just the tip of the iceberg. Clothing lines replicating the outfits from the show, school supplies, sparkly kids' cosmetics, video games. An entire empire built on the wings of these animated idiots.

You just had to pull the right lever. And there was only one lever here, and it never failed—the childish "I want it!". A child doesn't ask; a child demands. And a parent's job is either to give up and buy it, or endure hours of screaming tantrums. The majority, as practice showed, chose the former.

At that moment, the light on her personal communicator softly blinked on. She leisurely touched the sensor.

"Madame Lefevre, I apologize for the late call," came the slightly tense voice of Antoine, her lead attorney. "I'm calling about Rainbow. Their board of directors just caved. They are accepting all our terms."

"Excellent, Antoine," she smiled. "I expect the full packet of documents on my desk by Wednesday."

"Yes, Madame. Of course."

She cut the call without waiting for goodbyes. Silence reigned in the room once more. And only now did a genuine smile slip across her lips. Another victory.

Her gaze returned to the holographic panel.

"Well then, little fairies," her whisper was barely audible in the vast room. "I hope you make your new mommy a lot of money."

Dominique lazily rolled her shoulders, and the expensive dress, losing its support, slipped silently to the floor. She stepped over it, heading toward the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged, enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume. She walked over to her walk-in closet, her eyes skimming the rows of garments before settling on a flawless black dress. The perfect choice for an evening that belonged entirely to her.

She could have called her driver, but she immediately brushed the thought away. This was her triumph, and she didn't want anyone else around her in a moment like this. The slight dizziness of success pleasantly tickled her nerves; right now, she just wanted to be alone, to take a drive through the night city, listening not to the breathing of a chauffeur, but only to the roar of her Maserati's engine.

Decided.

Dominique went down to the underground parking garage. She drove out onto the empty streets. The city slept, unaware that one of its queens had just grown even richer and more powerful.

Her supreme self-confidence had always been her trump card. And her only weakness. She considered the people she had just devoured to be naive idiots, but she failed to account for one thing—that even idiots, when backed into a corner, can snap back.

A black SUV without license plates lunged out of the darkness of an alleyway. An ugly brick on wheels with its headlights off blocked her path.

Dominique didn't even have time to curse; only one thought flashed through her mind: An ambush.

There was no time to think. Her body, trained by years of discipline, reacted on its own. A sharp lunge to the right, onto the passenger seat. Her right hand was already flying toward the glove compartment, where her compact Glock lay. Her little personal argument.

Bang-bang-bang...

At that moment, a burst of automatic gunfire shattered the silence. The tempered glass exploded into a thousand shards. She felt a hard impact in her shoulder, felt a warm, sticky patch spreading across the fabric of her dress.

And right then, her fingers finally found the cold grip of the pistol. Adrenaline burned away the pain, and pure hatred gave her strength. She fired three times, blindly, toward the muzzle flashes. A short, gurgling wheeze came from the SUV. She hit someone.

Another burst stitched across the door. Her chest exploded with agony, and blood poured out of her mouth. The world tilted, and all sound vanished, replaced by a thin, high-pitched ringing.

I can't die this stupidly.

That was her last thought.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly, clinging to torn scraps of memory: the roar of the Maserati engine, the screech of brakes on wet asphalt, and then... pain. She remembered the automatic fire turning her body into a sieve. But now... nothing. There was no pain, no cold, no metallic taste of blood in her mouth. On the contrary, she was lying in warmth, under something incredibly soft and light. And this smell... God, what was that stench? A sickly-sweet, cheap scent, like a three-euro peach shampoo from a discount supermarket. A smell that triggered a subconscious irritation. In her penthouse, even the floor cleaner smelled more expensive than this.

This is definitely not a private clinic. And certainly not a morgue.

Her eyes opened on their own, and the first thing that struck her was a white ceiling and a tasteless chandelier shaped like a plastic flower. The morning sun pierced through pink curtains, flooding everything around her with a light that made her want to squeeze her eyes shut.

At first glance, an ordinary room, except...

The walls were covered in wallpaper dotted with fluttering butterflies. Posters of some pretty-boy bands hung on the walls. The desk was buried under notebooks and textbooks. A plush unicorn sat on the dresser, staring at her with its glassy button eyes.

It was a teenage girl's bedroom, decorated with a complete lack of taste or sense of proportion. What is this nonsense? Where am I? Kidnappers? No, that makes no sense. Who would hold a hostage in such a ridiculous room?

Panic rose in her throat. Dominique forced herself to take a slow, controlled breath, just as her yoga instructor had taught her.

Inhale, exhale. Calm down, Dominique, you don't panic. You never panic.

The ringing in her ears faded. She tried to move and realized she was lying in bed. The movement came surprisingly easily; no agony in her shot-up chest, no crippling weakness from blood loss. She threw off the blanket with a jerk and froze, staring at what she saw. Two long, slender legs.

Her legs remembered hundreds of kilometers on the treadmill, remembered the best spas in Europe. These, however, were smooth and thin, without a single trace of laser hair removal. Her body was clad in pajamas covered in smiling cartoon bunnies holding carrots. She slowly raised her right hand to her face. But it wasn't her hand, either. Long, delicate fingers, smooth skin devoid of any age spots, nails painted with pink glitter polish and half-bitten off.

A coma. Right, these are near-death hallucinations, her mind desperately clung to the last straw of rationality. I was shot. My brain is dying right now and showing me some kind of delirious nonsense. The doctors will come in a second, hit me with adrenaline, and I'll wake up in intensive care.

But the world around her was too real, too detailed for a simple dream. She could feel the softness of the sheets, hear the chirping of birds outside the window, sense a light draft from the cracked window. The door to the room creaked open, and a middle-aged woman with a kind, slightly tired face appeared in the doorway. She held a stack of fresh laundry in her hands.

"Bloom, honey, it's already half-past seven!" The woman set the laundry down on the dresser, shoving the unicorn aside. "You're going to be late for school."

The word "Bloom" hit Dominique in the gut harder than any bullet. It was a name from that idiotic cartoon she had been watching before that fatal drive. The name of the redheaded girl with wings and magic, the one she was planning to make millions off of.

"Bloom? Are you listening to me?" The woman stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sweetie, is everything okay? You look pale."

"I..."

"Stayed up all night on your phone again?" The woman shook her head and placed a cool palm on her forehead. "No fever, it seems. But you really don't look well."

"I... I'm feeling a bit sick," Dominique blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Can I stay home today? My head is splitting."

The woman frowned.

"Again? Bloom, this is the third time this month. What's going on? Are you having trouble at school? Did you get into another fight with Mitzi?"

Mitzi? Who the hell is Mitzi? Oh, right... I think there was some girl with that name briefly shown at the very beginning. A friend, maybe? Dominique didn't really remember such minor, episodic characters.

"No, it's just... I really feel bad. Maybe it's a migraine?"

"Hm. I used to get migraines at your age, too," the woman sighed. "Alright, stay home. But no excuses tomorrow, got it? You have a history test."

A test. In history. I am thirty-eight years old, I run an international empire, and this woman is telling me about a test.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Will you come down for breakfast?"

"A little later."

"I made your favorite pancakes with maple syrup. And there's fresh orange juice."

Pancakes with syrup? Seriously?

"Sounds... great."

The woman smiled and adjusted the blanket.

"That's my good girl. Dad already left for the station, told me to tell you he loves you. He said he'll bring pizza tonight from that Italian place you like."

"Pizza. Super."

"And please finally clean up your room, okay? It looks like a tornado went through here. How do you even find anything in this chaos?"

"I'll definitely clean it."

"I'll hold you to that!" The woman stood up, heading for the door, but turned back. "Bloom... is everything really okay? You can tell me if something's bothering you. Is it about boys?"

"No. Really, just a headache."

"Alright. Call me if you need anything. I'm going to the shop soon—a new shipment of orchids arrived, I need to sort them out. And then those supply invoices... the flower business isn't as simple as it seems."

The woman left, gently closing the door behind her. Dominique was left alone in a deafening silence. Bloom. She called me Bloom. This is impossible. This is madness...

It was too absurd even for hell. No, she had to see everything with her own eyes, to prove to herself that this was all some delusion. Throwing her legs—which felt slightly clumsy—off the bed, she tried to stand up, and immediately almost collapsed back down. She swayed, grabbing onto the headboard, took one step, then another. Staggering like a drunk, or like a person learning to walk all over again, she moved toward a door with the word Bathroom spelled out in pink glitter. Even the bathroom. Even the damn bathroom door has glitter on it.

Every step was an effort. Her brain, accustomed to commanding the body of a successful businesswoman, issued its usual orders, but this new body executed them with a delay and frightening inaccuracy. Like she was trying to control a marionette with tangled strings. She pushed open the bathroom door and froze. The towels—pink. The heart-shaped bath mat—pink. The shower curtain with dancing flamingos—pink. A mountain of shampoo and shower gel bottles was lined up on the shelves, all with idiotic names like "Strawberry Dream" and "Peach Paradise." But Dominique was only looking at the large mirror above the sink.

She walked up slowly, feeling her heart clench painfully in her chest. Reflected in the mirror was a girl of sixteen, no older, with a shock of long, fiery-red hair scattered over her shoulders in picturesque disorder. With huge blue eyes, so blue they looked fake, drawn-on. With a sprinkling of freckles across a straight nose.

Bloom. The very same one from the screen. Only now she wasn't drawn by some amateur artist for pennies, but real, alive.

"Fuck," slipped from her new mouth.

She raised a trembling hand and touched her cheek. The girl in the mirror perfectly mirrored her movement. The skin was soft and warm, without a single trace of expensive cosmetics. She pinched her arm.

"Ow! Shit!"

"Bloom?" her mother's worried voice called out from behind the door. "Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah, Mom! I just... bumped into the shelf!"

"Careful in there! And don't forget to take something for your headache. There's aspirin in the medicine cabinet."

The footsteps faded away. Dominique looked into the mirror again, then at her hands. This wasn't a dream, or a coma, or a hallucination. Dominique Lefevre, a third-generation aristocrat, head of a corporation, a woman who struck fear into boards of directors across the globe, stood wearing pajamas with smiling bunnies, looking into the mirror with the eyes of a cartoon fairy.

They wanted to eliminate me? she thought, and Bloom's lips in the mirror pressed into a thin, cold line. Well, they've really outdone themselves.



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[VitahAR]

Dominique stood in front of the mirror for a few more minutes, trying to accept the new reality. Gradually, the strange feeling of alienation began to recede. The body still felt unfamiliar, but no longer so uncontrollable, as if an invisible cramp was slowly releasing her muscles.

Alright. I need information. Where am I? When am I? What the hell is going on?

She returned to Bloom's room, moving with more confidence. Her legs were no longer getting tangled; her hands obeyed her better. Pacing the room, Dominique took a closer look around.

A calendar featuring kittens hung on the wall above the desk. May 2004. A few days were circled with a pink marker, and the 15th had "History Test!!!" scribbled on it with three exclamation marks. 2004? So this is time travel, too?

She walked over to the desk, which was a natural disaster of textbooks, notebooks, and pencils. Setting one notebook aside, she began methodically sorting through the school-grade wastepaper. There was algebra homework, a weekly school schedule, and even some drawings. Dozens of drawings of fairies with multicolored wings, sketched quite skillfully, with obvious talent. She draws fairies. Of course she draws fairies. Under the stack of drawings, a book revealed itself. "Fairies: Reality or Myth?" Dominique snorted, opened the book, and flipped through a couple of pages detailing various types of fairies from world mythology, from Irish Sidhe to Slavic ones.

At that moment, something rustled under the bed. She froze. The rustling repeated, louder this time. What now... A rabbit darted out from under the bed. A completely ordinary, gray rabbit about the size of a large guinea pig.

"Jesus Christ!" Dominique grabbed the first thing that came to hand—namely, the math notebook—and hurled it at the animal. "You scared me, you little shit!"

The rabbit nimbly hopped aside, and the notebook smacked against the floor. The little beast stared at her with beady black eyes and twitched its nose. Wait. There was a rabbit in the cartoon. But it was... different. Dominique remembered a bright blue, cartoonish rabbit with huge eyes. A typical marketing gimmick designed to sell plush toys. This one, however, was just a standard pet rabbit, probably bought at the local pet store for twenty bucks.

"Kiko?" she called out uncertainly.

The rabbit twitched an ear and hopped right back under the bed. Fine. I'll deal with the rabbit later. She found a phone on the nightstand, a simple Motorola flip phone. Dominique opened it, staring at the tiny screen and keypad as if it were an artifact from another universe. She hadn't held a device like this in twenty years. Internet. I need the internet. She found the browser—WAP. God, she had forgotten this even existed. Loading the homepage took an eternity.

The browser history showed the last visit was to the Gardenia city website. Dominique clicked the link. She waited a full minute for a page with a couple of low-res pictures to load. "Gardenia's 50th Anniversary Celebration! Don't miss the main event of the year! May 21-23, Central Park..." She tried to find something about the Winx. Nothing. About the fairies of Alfea? Empty. Magical schools? Only Hogwarts from Harry Potter. Honestly, it was to be expected. A cartoon about the Winx couldn't exist inside the Winx universe. It was absurd, but worth checking.

Throwing the phone onto the bed in irritation, Dominique flopped down next to it, pulling the blanket over herself. Closing her eyes, she began massaging her temples, just as she always did during intense mental strain. Her eyelids grew heavy. The events of the morning—death, resurrection in a stranger's body—had drained all her energy. She didn't even notice when she drifted off.

She woke up to a weight on her stomach. Something warm and soft had settled right on top of her.

"What the..."

She felt fur. The rabbit. The little gray shit had climbed onto her and was sleeping peacefully, its whiskers twitching.

"Bloom?" The door cracked open, and her mother peeked through the gap. "Oh, you're awake. Sweetie, it's already two in the afternoon. You never came down for breakfast."

"I... fell asleep."

"Does your head still hurt?"

"It's better."

"That's good. Come down and eat. I'll heat up some pancakes. And get dressed, finally—you can't walk around in your pajamas all day."

Her mother left, and Dominique carefully lifted the rabbit off her stomach—which caused it to twitch an ear in annoyance—and set it on the floor.

Get dressed. Right. She opened the closet and nearly groaned. Low-rise jeans, miniskirts, sequined tops. Everything was so cheap; half the clothes were decorated with butterfly and star patches. God, what absolute trash. There isn't a single item here worth more than fifty dollars.

After a ten-minute search, she chose the lesser evil: a pair of unadorned dark blue jeans and a lilac blouse.

In the kitchen, her mother was indeed heating up pancakes. Dominique sat at the table, trying to act naturally.

"Here, eat up," the plate landed in front of her. "And drink your juice. Vitamin C is good for a headache."

"Thanks, Mom."

She took a bite of the pancake. It was surprisingly delicious for home cooking.

"By the way," her mother sat across from her with a cup of coffee, "Mrs. Harris called. Asked why you weren't at school. I told her you were feeling under the weather."

"Who is Mrs. Harris?"

Her mother raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Bloom, seriously? Your homeroom teacher. Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's just... my head is still a bit foggy."

"Maybe we should see a doctor?"

"No! I mean, there's no need. I'm feeling better."

After lunch, Dominique decided she needed to look around.

"I'm going for a short walk," she told her mother. "The fresh air will help."

"Good idea. Go take a walk, just don't be out too long."

The street greeted her with a typical American suburb. Identical houses with manicured lawns, white picket fences, mailboxes on posts. Like every second Hollywood movie.

Dominique walked at random, trying to memorize the route. After about an hour, she came upon a large red-brick building. Gardenia High School, the sign read. Teenagers were crowding the lawn in front of the school. Laughing, chatting, someone throwing a ball. Normal high school life.

Tomorrow I'll have to go in there. To high school. When I was sixteen, I was already receiving a private education in Switzerland. And now... an American public school.

"Hey, Bloom!"

She turned around. A blonde girl in a red jacket was jogging toward her.

Damn. Who is this?

"Why weren't you here today?" the girl stopped next to her, breathing heavily. "Mitzi was running her mouth all day saying you had nothing to wear, so you skipped."

Mitzi. That name again.

"I wasn't feeling well," Dominique answered cautiously.

"Oh, poor thing! So, are you not going to the party on Friday then?"

"Party? I don't know. I'm a bit sick right now..."

"That's a shame. Well, get better soon then. Friday is gonna be fun! Anyway, I gotta go, the girls are waiting."

The blonde ran off, leaving Dominique completely baffled. A party? Some teenage party? Kill me now. Oh wait, I've already been killed.

By the evening, when she returned home, Bloom's father had arrived from work. Mike Peters turned out to be a large man with a kind face and tired eyes. Barely stepping into the house, he took off his firefighter uniform and walked over to her.

"How's my princess?" He hugged Bloom; he smelled of smoke and men's deodorant. "Mom said you were feeling sick."

"Much better... Dad."

"That's great! I brought pizza from Tony's. Four cheese, your favorite!"

During dinner, Dominique chewed her pizza in silence, listening to her parents converse. Mike talked about a fire at a warehouse, Vanessa complained about suppliers delivering wilted roses. After dinner, everyone moved to the living room to watch TV. Some stupid reality show. Dominique sat for fifteen minutes before she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to my room. Going to read before bed."

"Of course, sweetie. Good night."

In her room, she collapsed onto the bed. The rabbit immediately hopped up next to her and buried its nose into her side.

Dominique stared at the ceiling with its stupid flower chandelier, stroking the rabbit behind the ears as she began to think about the next day. Dominique Lefevre, you've survived hostile takeovers, stock market crashes, and board meetings with ruthless investors. You can handle an American high school. After all, how hard could it be?

The alarm clock woke her with a nasty beep at half-past six in the morning. Dominique opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. For a second, she hoped yesterday's nightmare had been just that—a nightmare. But no, the pink curtains, the posters of idiot singers, the plush unicorn—everything was in its place.

"Bloom! Get up, honey!" her mother's voice called from the hallway. "You have a test today, you can't be late!"

History test. Good God. She forced herself to sit up. The body obeyed better than yesterday—muscle memory was adapting, or her brain had learned to give the right commands to this foreign vessel, it didn't matter. The rabbit poked its head out from under the bed and stared at her.

"Good morning to you, too," Dominique muttered, lowering her feet to the floor.

Kiko twitched an ear, hopped onto the bed, and began methodically digging into the folds of the blanket.

"Looking for something?" She scratched him behind the ear. "I just hope you don't crap wherever you please."

The rabbit ignored her, continuing its excavations. Dominique got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom.

Alright, I need to act naturally. Don't raise any suspicions.

She returned to her room, where a new set of trials awaited her—choosing an outfit. Opening the closet, she once again scanned the low-rise jeans that were popular in... right, in 2004. Sequined tops, skirts that barely covered one's ass. I held meetings with Ministers of Finance. I dined with the heirs of the oldest European houses, and now I'm digging through a pile of shit from a bargain bin.

After five minutes of searching, she fished out some relatively normal dark blue jeans, devoid of rhinestones or holes, and a light blue t-shirt. She chose the most normal outfit possible within the confines of this wardrobe. The next task was packing her backpack. Dominique sat on the floor next to the school bag and dumped its contents. Textbooks, notebooks, pens, some crumpled pieces of paper with notes. She picked up a planner with a heart-shaped sticker on it.

At that moment, Kiko darted out from under the bed and, without hesitation, dove straight into the half-open backpack.

"Hey!" Dominique grabbed him by his soft scruff and yanked him out. "Get out of there! The last thing I need is you taking a dump in there."

The rabbit indignantly kicked its hind legs, broke free, and hopped back under the bed.

"Exactly. Stay there."

She zipped up the backpack and double-checked the planner. Everything was there. The head of an international holding company is packing a school backpack. If the board of directors saw this, they would die... of laughter.

"Bloom! Breakfast is ready!" came a shout from downstairs.

"Coming!"

Her parents were already waiting in the kitchen. Mike was sitting at the table in his firefighter uniform, reading the paper and drinking coffee. Vanessa was working magic at the stove.

"Good morning, sunshine," her mother turned with a smile. "Sleep well?"

"It was fine," Dominique sat at the table.

"You're a bit quiet today," Vanessa noted, setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. "Is everything okay?"

"Just haven't woken up yet."

"Right. Ready for your test?"

Am I ready for a tenth-grade American history test? I have a degree in economics from the Sorbonne.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Mike put down his newspaper.

"That's my girl. You know, princess, I was thinking yesterday... Maybe we could go somewhere this weekend? To the lake, maybe. We haven't had a family trip in a while."

"That would be... nice," Dominique replied carefully, taking a bite of bacon.

A family trip to the lake. I used to spend my weekends on the French Riviera.

"Are you sure you're okay, Bloom?" Vanessa sat across from her with a cup of tea. "You've been really strange these past two days. So... quiet. Normally you chatter non-stop at breakfast."

Dominique looked up. Her mother was watching her with concern.

"Just thinking a lot. School, things like that."

"If something is wrong, you can tell us," Vanessa said softly. "We're always here to listen."

"I know, Mom. Thanks."

Mike patted her on the shoulder.

"Glad to hear it. Anyway, I gotta run. Shift starts at eight."

He kissed his wife, ruffled Dominique's hair—she barely restrained herself from recoiling at the overly familiar gesture—and left.

"You need to get going too," Vanessa glanced at the clock. "Bus is here in twenty minutes."

"Bus?"

"Bloom, are you entirely sure you're okay? You take the school bus every day."

Of course. The school bus. How could I forget that particular amusement ride.

"Yeah, yeah, just got lost in thought."

Twenty minutes later, Dominique stood at the bus stop alongside a dozen other teenagers. The yellow bus rolled up with the characteristic squeal of brakes, the doors hissing open. Dominique climbed the steps and looked around. A perfectly ordinary scene presented itself: rows of seats packed with high schoolers. Noise, chatter, someone blasting music through headphones. She made her way to the middle and took an empty window seat. Some girl with a ponytail plopped down next to her and immediately buried her face in her phone, furiously typing a text message.

The school bus. I am riding a school bus. The last time I took public transport was... never?

The bus pulled away. Identical houses, manicured lawns, and white picket fences drifted past the window. Ten minutes of rattling later, the bus deposited the crowd at the red-brick building. A typical high school, exactly like the ones Dominique had seen in dozens of Hollywood movies—a two-story structure with columns at the entrance and an American flag on a flagpole. She stepped off the bus and headed for the entrance, trying not to stand out from the crowd.

Inside, it was the standard setup as well: long hallways, locked lockers lining the walls, bulletin boards plastered with posters for school events.

Dominique walked down the hall, feeling eyes on her. Someone greeted her with a nod; someone else waved. She responded with brief nods, trying to look natural.

"Oh, look who it is. Bloom has decided to grace us with her presence," a mocking female voice rang out.

Dominique turned around. Standing before her was a girl of about sixteen, wearing a green plaid cardigan and tight black jeans. Her long dark hair was worn down, huge black-and-pink framed glasses covered half her face, and some sort of pendant dangled from her neck. A condescending smile played on her lips.

"What, wearing last year's sweater again?" the brunette continued, sizing Dominique up. "Maybe it's finally time to save up for something new from the thrift store?"

The hallway quieted down. Several students stopped, anticipating a show; apparently, this wasn't their first exchange of pleasantries. Dominique slowly turned to face her. And who is this? Could it be the famous Mitzi I'm supposedly feuding with? Options flashed through her mind. She could tear this little brat to shreds—thirty-eight years of experience against sixteen. But she needed to act like Bloom, like a sixteen-year-old girl. Then again... who said Bloom couldn't get a little smarter?

Dominique slowly shifted her gaze from the sweater to the girl's face, tilting her head.

"A thrift store? Oh, Mitzi, I didn't know you were such an expert. Though, looking at you, it makes sense that you're a regular customer."

Mitzi flushed.

"What?! I only buy from boutiques!"

"Really?" Dominique shook her head sympathetically. "Then I feel sorry for you. To spend so much money just to look this ridiculous... That takes real effort."

She paused, letting the words sink in, and then continued, examining Mitzi's face.

"By the way, interesting makeup. Did you do it yourself?"

Mitzi, whose eyes had already narrowed dangerously, answered on autopilot.

"Of course I did! I have perfect taste!"

"Ah, that makes sense," Dominique nodded with understanding. "You know, there's a wonderful saying: 'You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig.' Though, judging by the result, you're stubbornly trying to prove otherwise."

The hallway erupted in muffled laughter. Mitzi's face went from pale to beet red, her hands balled into fists, and her whole body shook with rage.

"You... you..." she couldn't find the words, too blinded by anger.

"Me what?" Dominique smirked. "Lost for words? I suggest you spend less time wandering around thrift stores and more time studying. You're already bleating like a sheep; at this rate, you'll start oinking soon."

"You bitch..." Mitzi shrieked.

With a frantic wail, she lunged forward, intending either to grab Bloom's hair or slap her across the face. Regardless, Dominique had no intention of finding out this idiot's true motives. She stepped aside, letting the strike miss. Mitzi, having miscalculated her momentum, flew forward, losing her balance. Dominique caught her by the wrist, spun her around, and with one swift motion, dumped her onto the floor. Mitzi hit the ground flat on her back with a yelp.

"Oops," Dominique said innocently, looking down at her. "Did you slip? You need to be more careful."

The crowd gasped; several people laughed.

"What is going on here?!" a sharp female voice cut through the laughter.

A middle-aged woman in strict glasses marched over to them—evidently, a local teacher.

"Girls!" She stopped, looking at Mitzi on the floor. "Explain yourselves immediately!"

Mitzi opened her mouth, ready to spill everything, but Dominique beat her to it.

"It's nothing, really," her voice was perfectly calm. "Mitzi just asked me to show her a self-defense move. Just in case she runs into a maniac in a dark alley. Isn't that right, Mitzi?"

She looked down with an innocent smile. Mitzi froze. There were dozens of witnesses around; if she complained that Bloom had assaulted her, when everyone clearly saw she was the one who lunged first... her reputation would be ruined.

"Y-yeah," she forced out as she got up. "A self-defense move."

The teacher narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Self-defense? In the hallway? Right before the first bell?"

"I... didn't think," Mitzi mumbled.

"Let's pretend I believe you. But from now on, absolutely no... self-defense lessons in the hallway. Is that clear?" the teacher snapped.

"Clear."

"Now, everyone, off to your classrooms! The bell rings in ten minutes!"

The crowd reluctantly dispersed. Mitzi, red as a lobster, scurried down the hall.

Finding the right classroom was easy; the room numbers were listed under each subject in her planner. Dominique walked in and looked around; several students were already in their seats, while others crowded by the window. She walked over to the first empty desk she saw by the window and sat down, dropping her backpack on the floor.

"Uh... Bloom?"

Dominique looked up. A tall, skinny guy with light brown hair and a slightly bewildered expression was standing next to her.

"Um... why are you sitting in my seat?"

She blinked.

"Is it a crime?"

The guy opened his mouth, closed it, and scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh... Well... Okay. I'll just take your seat then."

He walked two rows back and flopped down at an empty desk by the wall. Interesting, so Bloom had an assigned seat. Well, now she has a new one. The classroom gradually filled up. Dominique sat by the window and observed. The girls huddled in groups, whispering and giggling. The guys shoved each other and traded stupid jokes. Typical teenagers. The teacher walked in—a woman in her fifties wearing a strict gray suit and glasses on a chain.

"Good morning, class," she placed a folder of papers on the desk. "I hope everyone is ready for the test?"

A groan of displeasure rolled through the rows.

"Excellent," the teacher chuckled dryly. "Then clear your desks; leave nothing but your pens."

She began handing out the test sheets. Dominique took hers and skimmed it. The American Revolutionary War. The Constitution. The Bill of Rights. The Civil War. Basic things, knowledge any educated person retained from a general history course. She took her pen and began to write. The questions were almost insultingly easy. Dates, names, major events.

Ten minutes later, the sheet was filled. Dominique put down her pen and leaned back in her chair. All around her, people were still sweating over their tests; some chewed on their pens, others frowned in deep concentration. She turned to the window. Outside the glass lay the schoolyard, a green lawn, and a few trees.

What am I doing here? How could I possibly end up in the body of a sixteen-year-old girl, in a world that shouldn't even exist? Not that I'm complaining, given the alternative, but it's still fascinating. I was killed. And now here I am, sitting and taking an American history test.

Time dragged by slowly. Dominique stared out the window, trying to gather her thoughts. She needed a plan; she needed information. What kind of world was this, anyway? Reality, a parallel dimension, a simulation? My only lead is that cartoon. The story about fairies, about Stella, and a fight in the park. When exactly was that supposed to happen? The cartoon didn't have exact dates. She only remembered the general outline of the plot: Bloom lives in Gardenia, a normal girl who doesn't know about her powers. Then Stella appears in the city, she's attacked by monsters, Bloom saves her, and this whole... magical ordeal begins.

The bell rang deafeningly, snapping Dominique out of her thoughts.

"Time is up," Mrs. Harris announced. "Pens down, pass your papers forward."

The students began to stand, passing the sheets up the rows. Dominique handed hers over and stretched. The next class was trigonometry, followed by English, and then PE.

Dominique changed into her gym uniform and walked out into the gymnasium.

I used to pay my personal trainer five thousand euros a month, and now I'm running laps in a high school gym while a PE teacher yells at me. But, to her surprise, the body handled it easily. Young, healthy, full of energy, without a trace of the fatigue accumulated through years of stress and overwork. Well, at least this body has one advantage.

The final class was biology. The teacher, a plump woman in a floral dress, talked about photosynthesis. Dominique listened with half an ear, mechanically taking notes just to keep her hands busy, but her mind was elsewhere. I need to go to the park. If the plot is anything to go by, it should all start there. And if nothing happens—then this is just a normal world, and I've lost my mind. But if it does happen...

The final bell rang at three o'clock. The students poured toward the exits in a noisy crowd. Dominique gathered her things and walked slowly to the bus. She took the same window seat, thinking as the houses drifted past once again.

If it all turns out to be true... If magic exists... Then she would have a chance. A chance to obtain real power, a kind of magic she couldn't have even dreamed of in her past life.

The bus stopped at her stop. She stepped off and walked home, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly.

 

[VitahAR]

The morning of the next day began with the exact same script. The beep of the alarm clock, the pink curtains, the rabbit poking its head out from under the bed. If I ever get out of here, the first thing I'll do is burn everything pink within a one-mile radius.

Dominique forced herself up and went through the now-familiar morning ritual: shower, clothes, backpack, breakfast. At the table, her parents were exchanging meaningful looks again, casting worried glances her way. She ate her oatmeal in silence, answering questions in monosyllables. "Yes." "No." "Fine." Playing the obedient daughter was harder than negotiating with Chinese investors. At least there, the rules of the game were clear.

The new day at school was practically a carbon copy of the previous one, just with different subjects.

Dominique had probably never watched a second hand so intently in her entire life. Her gaze was completely glued to the clock hanging above the blackboard—or rather, to the hand that seemed to be moving at the speed of a pregnant snail. The teacher was explaining something at the board, scribbling with chalk, drawing graphs. The class dutifully took notes, while Dominique sat with her chin resting on her hand, staring at the clock.

Twenty more minutes.

In history class, Mrs. Harris handed back the graded tests. Dominique received hers with a fat "A" in the corner of the page. The teacher gave an approving nod. Someone behind her sighed enviously. I don't care about your 'A'. I don't care about this school. Come on, clock hand, move.

Finally, the hand completed another full circle, and at that very second, the rustle of notebooks and the scratching of pens were interrupted by the long-awaited bell. The whole class sprang into motion. Chairs scraped back, backpacks flew onto shoulders, voices merged into a general hum. Dominique remained seated, slowly packing her things into her bag.

She waited until the hallway emptied out and was the last to leave, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Finally, these stupid classes are over. Which means I can leave this madhouse with a clear conscience and not come back until tomorrow. Dominique stepped out onto the school porch, breathed in the warm May air, and headed toward the school bus stop. But before she could get there, she heard the distinct sound of a motor.

A bright pink scooter pulled up sharply and braked right in front of her nose, forcing Dominique to jump aside. Mitzi was sitting on it, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

"Oops," she drawled maliciously, taking off her sunglasses. "Almost ran you over. Sorry, didn't see you."

Dominique straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mitzi. Didn't expect to see you today. I figured after yesterday, you'd sit at home for a couple of days. Play sick, maybe."

"Why would I be sick?" Mitzi got off the scooter. "Everything is perfect."

"Really?" Dominique tilted her head. "Your back doesn't hurt? After that... fall?"

Mitzi flinched, her face contorting for a fraction of a second, but she quickly pulled herself together.

"You know what, Bloom?" She patted the handlebars of the scooter. "While you're standing there trying to be smart, I was just thinking... Look what I have."

"A pink scooter. I see it."

"Not just a scooter," Mitzi ran a hand over the shiny chassis. "Brand new. My parents gave it to me last night."

"Cute," Dominique replied indifferently.

"Cute?" Mitzi sneered. "It's not just cute. It's cool, it's freedom, it's style. And most importantly..." she walked around the scooter, "...it's something you don't have and never will."

"A pink scooter? I think I'll survive."

"Not the scooter." Mitzi stopped, putting her hands on her hips. "Normal parents who can actually afford gifts like this."

Dominique felt a prick of irritation.

"What's your point, Mitzi?"

"No point," she shrugged, getting back onto the scooter. "Just wanted to make sure you understand the difference between us. I'm on a scooter. And you..." she glanced back at the bus stop, where the yellow school bus was idling, "...you're on a bus."

She revved the engine. And right at that moment, the school bus pulled away from the curb.

"Oops," Mitzi broke into a wide grin. "Looks like your bus left. What a shame, you'll have to walk now."

Dominique gave her a long, hard stare. Then she turned around and walked away, hearing the scooter's engine roar as Mitzi sped off, clearly pleased with herself. Little brat. As if I have nothing better to do than argue with petty teenage mean girls. Dominique walked down the sidewalk, pulling both backpack straps over her shoulders. The walk home was about forty minutes—not lethal. Plus, it gave her time to think.

"Hey, Bloom!"

She turned around. The guy who had given up his desk for her yesterday was riding up on a bicycle. He braked next to her, planting one foot on the asphalt.

"Missed the bus?" he said, slightly out of breath. "Want a ride? My back rack is sturdy, it'll hold."

Dominique looked him up and down, then eyed the old bicycle—worn out, with peeling paint. The guy himself looked like a quintessential middle-class American high schooler.

"Boy, have you looked in a mirror lately?" she threw back, walking right past him. Riding on a bicycle? On the back rack? Seriously? It's not even funny.

"Uh... okay," came the voice from behind, but she was already walking away without looking back.

The walk wasn't actually that bad. The sun was warming, but not scorching, and a light breeze ruffled her hair. Dominique walked through familiar streets. About twenty minutes later, she reached the center of town. The buildings grew taller, replaced by shops, cafes, and offices. And up ahead, just past a row of low buildings, greenery appeared. The park.

Dominique slowed her pace, looking up at the archway that read "Gardenia Central Park." She stopped before the entrance. This is it, the park. The fountain in the center with its stone bowls pouring water, the branching network of paths radiating outward, the sprawling trees with thick canopies. The lawns, flowerbeds, and benches—it all matched the fragmented memories from the cartoon. If it's all going to happen here, I need to get at least some bearing on the layout. I have to be ready.

Dominique entered the park. She walked slowly down the central alley, looking around. To the left—a playground with swings and slides. To the right—an open clearing where some people were throwing a Frisbee. Further down—rows of benches, ice cream stands, and hot dog carts.

She turned onto a side path, walking past a duck pond, past a gazebo where an elderly couple sat on a bench. She emerged into another clearing, a larger one, surrounded by tall trees.

Is this the spot? Or that one? Everything had been drawn and schematic in the cartoon. It was hard to figure out the exact topography. But something about this clearing felt familiar. An open space, trees along the perimeter, a bench at the edge. Maybe here. Dominique walked a full circle around the clearing. Nothing special. Grass, trees, paths. No magic, no anomalies. What were you expecting? A glowing portal?

She returned to the central alley and kept walking, studying the park. She took a left—another, smaller clearing. Then a right—a long path lined with rose bushes. Then back to the fountain.

Time ticked by, the sun slowly shifting toward the horizon. Dominique sat on a bench near the fountain and pulled out her phone. Half-past four. Her stomach gave a treacherous rumble. She stood up and headed for the nearest food cart.

"Hot dog and a Coke," she told the vendor, a heavyset man in an apron.

"Three fifty."

Dominique dug into the pocket of her jeans. She found a few crumpled bills and a handful of coins. She counted out the exact amount and received her hot dog wrapped in paper, topped with mustard and ketchup. Look what I've been reduced to. A hot dog from a street cart. Me, who used to dine in Michelin-starred restaurants. But honestly, she was so hungry that even this cheap hot dog tasted good. She sat back on the bench and began to chew slowly, washing it down with Coke from a plastic cup.

The park was gradually emptying out. Parents were leading their kids away from the playground, couples were heading home. It was getting chilly. The sun was dipping toward sunset, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Dominique just sat and watched. The fountain, the paths, the trees—trying to memorize every detail.

Somewhere around here. If it happens at all, it's somewhere around here.

Finally, she checked her phone. Half-past seven. Time to go home. If I stay any longer, my parents will call the cops. Dominique reluctantly stood up and headed for the exit. She walked under the archway and onto the streets. It was quiet; only occasional cars drove by, and a dog barked somewhere in the distance.

Dominique walked in silence, lost in thought. If magic exists—I will find it. If there's a way to get back home, and survive—I will find it. If not... If not, she would create a way herself. Just as she had built her empire. Step by step, deal by deal.

The streets became increasingly familiar, and finally, she saw the house. Just like dozens of others on this street, with one major difference—this was the house she had to live in now. The lights were on, and the front door was unlocked; clearly, they were waiting for her. Dominique stopped on the porch. Alright. Play the part. she pulled the mask of a disgruntled teenager over her face and stepped inside.

Her "parents" were sitting in the living room watching TV. But the moment the door clicked shut, Vanessa sprang from the couch, her eyes wide.

"Bloom, where have you been?" Her mother's voice trembled as she took a step closer. "It's nighttime!"

Dominique stopped in the doorway of the living room, her fingers gripping the strap of her backpack.

"Just went for a walk," she grumbled, looking at the floor.

"A walk?" Mike set down the remote, his eyebrows climbing upward. "Have you looked at the time? Explain yourself right now, or I'll—"

"I saw the time. And I'm tired," she cut him off, her voice sharp. "I want to sleep."

Vanessa opened her mouth, but Dominique had already turned away. Her sneakers pounded up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. She ran into her room with the butterfly wallpaper, slammed the door shut, and collapsed face-down onto the bed. The rabbit poked its head out from under the bed and stared at her.

"Piss off," she muttered into the pillow.

Kiko twitched his nose and hopped onto the bed, settling by her feet. Dominique rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

Soon. Soon enough I'll find out if this is all real or just madness. She closed her eyes. Dominique Lefevre doesn't believe in fairy tales. But if fairy tales do exist... I'll make them work for me.

The new morning began, for once, not with an alarm clock, but with a heavy, tense silence, which was arguably worse. Dominique came down to the kitchen and immediately felt the atmosphere. Her parents were sitting at the table, exchanging meaningful looks. Vanessa was nervously shredding a napkin; Mike cleared his throat. Great. A family intervention. She sat at the table. Vanessa placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her.

"Bloom," Vanessa began, her voice soft but very insistent, "your father and I are worried. You came home late yesterday, you're acting like someone else entirely. Did something happen at school?"

Dominique realized that a simple "I didn't get enough sleep" wasn't going to cut it anymore. She needed a better role, one she could play without raising suspicions. She chose the most obvious one. The resentful teenager. She poked at her eggs with a fork, keeping her eyes down.

"Mitzi got a scooter," she mumbled. "Spent half the day bragging about it."

Vanessa and Mike exchanged glances. Relief washed over their faces: so it wasn't drugs, it wasn't a bad crowd—just standard teenage envy.

"Oh, sweetie," Vanessa covered Dominique's hand with her own, "I know that's frustrating. But you know that Mitzi's family... well, they have different means."

"Her dad owns a law firm," Mike added. "And I'm a firefighter. We can't just afford things like that on a whim."

Dominique slowly raised her eyes to them, painting her face with a mixture of hurt and understanding.

"I know," she murmured. "It just... sucks. She brags about it like it's some achievement of hers."

"It's not her achievement," Mike said firmly. "It's a gift from her parents. A real achievement is when you earn something yourself."

Vanessa nodded.

"Listen, sunshine. If you finish this year with good grades, if you try hard..." she looked at her husband, who gave a subtle nod, "...maybe we can figure something out. For your birthday. Not a scooter, obviously, but something nice."

"Really?" Dominique injected just the right amount of hope into her voice.

"Really," Mike smiled. "But that means no C's, understood?"

"Understood, Dad."

What a touching family scene. Poor parents promising their poor daughter to buy her a present if she's a good girl. I used to spend more on a single dinner than they earn in a month. She dutifully finished her breakfast, thanked them, and went to get ready for school.

The school day dragged on as usual. Dominique sat at her desk and mechanically copied things into her notebook just to keep her hands busy, but her mind was miles away. When the final bell rang, she was one of the first out the door. In the parking lot, she saw Mitzi proudly kick-starting her moped. The girl sat on it looking as if it were a custom Lamborghini. A cockroach feeling proud of its personal piece of dung, Dominique thought with disdain. Mitzi caught her eye and waved, flashing a thirty-two-tooth smile. Dominique merely snorted in response and walked away, ignoring the roar of the pink engine behind her.

She headed toward the center of town again, following the familiar route. Up ahead, a boutique window caught her eye. "Gardenia Fashion." Dominique slowed down. The mannequins in the window were dressed in low-rise jeans, crop tops exposing their bellies, and flimsy jackets. Fashion of 2004. Dear God.

She pushed the door open and walked in. The store was small but fairly decent for a town of this size. The saleswoman, a woman in her thirties, cast an evaluating glance her way, but upon realizing she was just a high schooler, immediately lost interest.

Dominique walked between the racks, letting her fingers glide over the fabrics. Everything was cheap, mass-produced, sewn somewhere in China. The cuts were... well, it was twenty-odd years ago in her past life. Although... she stopped at the dress rack; this one wasn't bad. A simple black dress with no excessive details—a classic that never ages. Dominique pulled it off the hanger and checked the tag. A hundred and twenty dollars. For minimally processed cotton? She put the dress back and moved on. This blouse wasn't terrible either: white, with a stand-up collar. Price tag: eighty dollars.

"Can I help you find something?"

Dominique turned around. The saleswoman was watching her, feigning polite interest.

"Thank you, I'm just browsing," Dominique tossed back and walked out of the store. Out on the street, she took a deep breath.

The park greeted her with its usual scenery. The fountain in the center, the paths, the trees, people on benches. Dominique walked to her favorite spot—the bench near the clearing, offering a good vantage point. She strolled through the park, walking the same paths over and over, trying to calculate where Stella might appear. In the cartoon it was so simple. Boom—and a fairy practically fell out of the sky right in front of Bloom. In reality... Who knows how it'll actually go down in reality.

Time passed. The sun crossed its zenith and began a slow descent toward the horizon. Her stomach gave a treacherous growl, and Dominique headed to the familiar food cart, where the same vendor stood behind the counter, offering the same selection. She stood in silence, looking over the menu, and having finally made her choice, reached into her jeans pocket. But her fingers grasped nothing but empty space.

Fuck. She had spent yesterday's cash, and this morning, distracted by the whole scooter conversation, her parents simply forgot to give her pocket money. Dominique stared at the meat pies, feeling a cold fury boiling inside her. Not at the vendor, not at her parents, but at the situation as a whole. At this entire absurd world she had found herself in. The vendor watched her for a few minutes with mounting irritation. Finally, he snapped:

"Look, kid, either buy something or get lost. Stop loitering here."

Dominique slowly raised her eyes to him. A faint, enigmatic smile touched her lips. It was the exact same smile she used in negotiations when she wanted to corner an opponent.

"Excuse me, sir," her voice was quiet but surprisingly distinct, "could you clarify exactly which clause of the Consumer Rights Act you are basing your refusal to allow me to inspect your assortment prior to purchase on?"

The vendor blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"I am a potential client," Dominique continued in the same calm, even tone. "And I have every right to study the merchandise for as long as I deem necessary to make an informed decision. Your demand that I make an immediate purchase or leave the premises of service provision is a direct violation." She paused, taking a deep breath before delivering the final blow. "Or perhaps you have special regulations approved by the municipality? I would be delighted to review them."

The man stared at her, his mouth hanging open. His face slowly changed color from tanned to pink, and then to a blotchy red. His aggression morphed into confusion, and then into fear.

"I... I didn't..." he mumbled.

Dominique waited in silence, never taking her eyes off him. Her smile widened just a fraction; she slowly pulled out her phone and looked at the screen, as if preparing to call someone. Who? Doesn't matter. It's the gesture that counts. The vendor flinched, grabbed his tongs, snatched the two largest meat pies, hastily wrapped them in a napkin, and shoved them toward her with trembling hands.

"Take it. And for God's sake, just get out of here. Please."

Dominique took the bundle and gave the vendor one last, freezing look.

"Thank you," she said, turned on her heel, and walked back to her bench, leaving him in a state of total shock. She sat down and unwrapped the napkin containing her trophies. The pies were still warm, with a crispy crust.

A minor victory. She took a bite. The taste was... fine. Not disgusting, but not amazing either; just food. But right now, having procured it herself, with her own skills, her own ability to pressure people—it tasted better than any dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant. I am still me. I still know how to do this.

Dominique finished the first pie, then the second, washed them down with water from a nearby drinking fountain, and sat back on the bench. The sun was setting again, bathing the park in gold. The shadows from the trees grew longer, people dispersed to their homes. And once again, nothing happened. No fairies, no monsters, no magic. Just her, a bench, and the setting sun.

Suddenly, a short, nervous chuckle tore from Bloom's throat. I, the head of a transnational corporation, am sitting in a park for the second day in a row waiting for a fairy, after extorting two meat pies from a local street vendor. The chuckle evolved into a quiet laugh. If any of my old enemies could see me now... They'd die. From laughing. She fell silent. Cold determination settled over her features, pushing aside the hysteria.

"Enough," the girl whispered aloud. She stood up from the bench, dusted off her jeans, and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

That's it. Tomorrow is the last time. If nothing happens again... If nothing happened again, it meant it was time to find another way. Accept this reality, or... What that 'or' would entail, she didn't even know yet.

The walk home was brisk. Dominique entered the house and immediately bumped into Vanessa. Her mother was standing in the hallway, holding a mop, a look of deep concern on her face.

"Bloom, sweetie," she began carefully, "we need to talk."

Oh no. Not this.

"Mom, I'm tired..."

"Bloom, please." Vanessa set the mop aside. "I'm worried. This is the second day in a row you've come home late. You won't say where you've been. I..." she hesitated, "...I thought, maybe you're seeing someone?"

Dominique froze in her tracks.

"What?"

"Well, you know," Vanessa grew even more flustered, "at your age, it's normal. Showing interest in boys, first relationships... But, sweetie, you're still so young. I think it's too early for anything serious..."

"Mom," Dominique interrupted her, and there were notes in her voice that shouldn't have been there. Exhaustion, irritation, and something else entirely. "I know how to use protection. Let's drop the subject."

Vanessa stood frozen with her mouth open, her face slowly cycling through shades of color, from normal to pale, and then to a bright, shocking pink.

"You... what..."

"Good night, Mom," Dominique tossed over her shoulder and quickly went up the stairs, leaving her mother in a state of profound cultural shock.

In her room, she closed the door, leaned her back against it, and exhaled. Damn. That was uncalled for. But, honestly, the look on Vanessa's face was almost worth it. The rabbit poked its head out from under the bed and stared at her.

"Don't look at me like that," Dominique muttered. "I've had a long day."

Kiko twitched his nose and hopped onto the bed. Dominique walked over to the mirror and looked herself in the eyes.

Tomorrow, she said in her mind. One last time. I'll go there one more time. She lay down on the bed without undressing and stared at the ceiling. Magic, fairies—it's all nonsense. But if there's even a drop of truth to it... If there's even one chance... She closed her eyes. I won't miss it.

 

[VitahAR]

Dominique greeted her fourth day in this world without a shred of hope. She woke up with a sense of emptiness inside, possessing the cold resolve of someone walking into their final, most dangerous gamble.

Coming down to the kitchen, she immediately felt the tension. Vanessa was standing at the stove with her back to her, but by the way she gripped the spatula, it was clear a conversation was inevitable.

"Good morning, sweetie," her mother's voice was somewhat strained.

"Morning, Mom."

Vanessa slid the eggs onto a plate and sat across from her, clearly searching for the right words.

"Bloom," she finally began, "about what you said yesterday..."

Here it comes.

"Mom, I'm sorry," Dominique tried to inject the perfect amount of embarrassment into her voice. "I was just tired. I wasn't thinking. It was a stupid joke."

"A joke?" Vanessa raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. I'm not seeing anyone. Honestly. I just... wanted you to get off my back."

Vanessa studied her daughter, trying to gauge if it was the truth. Finally, she gave a slow nod.

"Alright. Okay. But, Bloom, if anything happens, if you ever need to talk... I'm here, you know?"

"I know, Mom. Thanks."

Vanessa exhaled with relief.

"That's wonderful. Eat, it's getting cold."

Dominique dutifully began to eat. Vanessa stood up, returned to the stove, and the tension in the air slowly dissipated. Crisis averted. That's something, at least.

The entire school day passed in a blur for Dominique. She didn't hear the teachers, didn't see her classmates; her mind was completely focused on the evening ahead. The classes dragged on seemingly forever, everything blending into a single gray backdrop. She sat at her desk, mechanically copying things into her notebook, but her thoughts were miles away. When the final bell rang, she bolted for the exit, practically shoving people out of her way. She was heading straight to the park.

The weather had changed today. The sky was overcast with gray clouds, and a gusty, cold wind whipped at her hair and clothes. The park was nearly deserted. The atmosphere was tense, perfectly matching her own state of mind. Dominique walked over to her bench, the one she had spent the last two days on, and waited.

Time ticked by, and the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, painting the gray clouds in shades of orange and crimson. The wait was different this time. It was fraught with petty, irritating incidents, as if this world had decided to test her patience one last time.

First, a dirty mutt with its tongue lolling out trotted up to her bench. It sniffed the leg of the bench, lifted a hind leg, and did its business right there. With a grimace of absolute disgust, Dominique stood up in silence and moved to another bench.

But less than ten minutes later, a little boy of about five ran past. He tripped over his own feet and collapsed onto the asphalt with a deafening wail. Good Lord, shut up already, Dominique thought irritably, clenching her hands into fists. Where is the mother of this little parasite? Is it really that hard to watch your own kid?

Right on cue, the mother of the little idiot came running over. She scooped up her bawling offspring and, trying to soothe him, sat down on the very edge of Dominique's bench.

"Hush now, hush, my sweet boy," she cooed, pressing the child to her chest.

She began rummaging through her purse until she fished out a pack of wet wipes and, without looking, shoved it toward Dominique.

"Hold this, please."

Dominique froze. She took the pack with two fingers, barely touching it, as if it were a piece of literal crap. The woman wiped her kid's face, snatched the wipes back, tossed a brief "thanks," and hurried off, dragging the still-sniffling boy behind her. Dominique followed them with a gaze full of icy contempt. Welcome to the world of ordinary people, Dominique. Enjoy your stay.

But the absolute peak of this parade of absurdity was a guy of about seventeen. He was strolling down the alley with a smug smirk, and noticing her on the bench, headed straight for her.

"Hey there, lonely?" he started, giving her a slow up-and-down look.

"Vanish," she threw back, looking the other way.

"Whoa. Just like that?" he stammered, his smirk faltering. "Come on, give me a chance?"

"I said, vanish," she repeated, turning her head to face him. "Or I'll call the cops and file a harassment complaint. Believe me, my vocabulary is more than sufficient to make your life very, very difficult. I'm having a bad day, and I would love nothing more than to take my anger out on you. Make your choice."

The guy stared at her in shock for a couple of seconds. His face cycled through several shades, from smug to utterly baffled, and finally to scared.

"Freak," he muttered, and hastily retreated, practically breaking into a jog.

Exactly. A freak. I've been sitting in a park for three days straight waiting for a fairy. Maybe he's right.

An hour passed, then another. The sky grew dark, and the streetlamps along the alleys clicked on, casting yellow circles of light onto the asphalt. The park was finally empty. Dominique sat huddled in her jacket, staring into the darkness between the trees. She was mentally ready to concede defeat. That's it, enough. This is insane. Magic doesn't exist, fairies don't exist. I'm just...

And then she saw the flash. Short, bright, like lightning. Somewhere deep in the park, behind the trees.

Then another, and another. Dominique sprang to her feet. Her heart seemed to stop for a fraction of a second, then kicked into a frantic rhythm. It's starting. She grabbed her backpack and bolted toward the source of the flashes.

The girl ran through the trees, leaping over exposed roots and tearing through bushes. Branches whipped at her face, but she paid them no mind.

Another flash, very close now. Dominique hit the brakes. She slowed her pace, moving almost silently, crouched behind a thick tree trunk, and carefully peeked out.

Before her lay a small clearing surrounded by trees, and in the middle of it... A young blonde in an orange crop top and shorts, completely unsuitable for the evening chill. She was darting around the clearing, gripping a long, glowing scepter. Translucent, sparkling wings fluttered behind her back.

She's real. God damn it, she's real.

However, she wasn't the only real thing out there—the monsters surrounding her were real too. The ringleader was a massive, yellow ogre with bushy eyebrows and a bald head. His massive body moved surprisingly fast for such a bulk. Behind him hobbled half a dozen smaller creatures: ugly, hunched over, with glowing red eyes and clawed paws.

"Hand over the scepter, little fairy!" the ogre growled. "Or Knut is gonna hurt you real bad!"

The blonde spun around, her face twisted in a fierce, determined grimace.

"Over my dead body, you ugly brute!"

She raised her staff, and it flared with blinding golden light.

"Sunbeam!"

A blast of pure light erupted from the tip of the staff. It struck one of the ghouls, and it crumbled into ash with a howl.

But Stella didn't stop there. She spun in place, and her wings flashed with a light that forced everyone to squeeze their eyes shut for a second.

"Light Barrier!"

A shield of radiant energy materialized in front of her. The most agile ghoul slammed into it and recoiled with a snarl.

She's good, Dominique noted detachedly, watching the fight.

But there were too many enemies. While Stella fended off one, two others flanked her. The ogre, too, was slowly but surely closing the distance, waiting for the right moment to deliver a crushing blow.

"Solar Flare!"

Stella thrust her hand forward, and a wave of blinding light washed over two ghouls. They shrieked and leaped back, but didn't disintegrate.

The math was obvious: the blonde was losing. One of the ghouls circled around her left and lunged. Stella, oblivious to it, kept fighting off the rest.

"Sunbeam!"

The ray of light shot from her scepter and missed entirely. The ghoul dodged, and the beam slammed into a tree. The exact tree Dominique was hiding behind.

The bark exploded into splinters, and Dominique instinctively recoiled, losing her balance. She landed hard on her ass, and the loud crack of the dry branches she crushed seemed to echo louder than the magical battle raging just a few feet away.

The fight in the clearing ground to a halt. The ogre slowly turned his ugly head toward the noise. His beady little eyes narrowed.

"Someone's there," he growled.

Shit. Dominique froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She saw the ogre raise a massive arm and point a thick finger right at her.

"Check it out!" he barked.

Two ghouls wheeled around and charged toward the trees, straight at her. Dominique tried to get up, but her legs refused to cooperate. She scrambled backward, her hands clawing at the grass and roots, but the beasts were faster. They burst through the tree line, jaws snapping wide open, and lunged at her. Time seemed to dilate. She could see their glowing red eyes, hear their ragged, raspy breaths.

It was one thing to prepare for this, to plan for it, even to expect it. But it was entirely different to face these abominations in the flesh. To watch them fly at you, ready to tear you apart. No, not again. I don't want to die again.

Fury and despair washed over her. Dominique instinctively threw her hands up, trying to shield herself. And in that exact fraction of a second, her palms erupted in fire.

It was an uncontrollable, ferocious burst of pure flame. A wave of roaring fire swallowed both ghouls. They didn't even have time to shriek; they simply ignited like dry paper and collapsed into piles of smoking ash.

A dead silence fell over the clearing. The ogre and the remaining monsters froze, staring blankly at the smoldering spots on the ground. Stella, panting heavily, stared at Dominique, her eyes wide with shock. And Dominique herself slowly pushed up to her feet and stared at her own hands. They were still wrapped in a faint, fading orange glow. A distinct smell of scorched fur hung heavy in the air.

The massive yellow ogre finally snapped out of it. He stared dumbly at the smoking ash, then at Stella, and then at her. And it seemed the realization of a new, far more dangerous threat was finally penetrating his primitive brain. A glimmer of something resembling a thought flashed in his beady eyes.

"Another fairy?" he growled, pointing a fat finger at Dominique. "You two. Get the redhead!"

Two ghouls, who up until now had been shifting hesitantly behind the ogre, lunged at the new target. Their movements were jerky and unnatural, dark saliva dripping from their fangs onto the grass.

This time, there was no fear. In place of terror came an icy calm and a strange, humming warmth that rose from her stomach, pumping adrenaline through her veins. The power, which just a moment ago had been a random outburst, now felt... like a brand-new limb.

Dominique didn't wait. She planted her feet firmly, bending her knees slightly, and threw both hands forward, aiming her open palms at the approaching threat. Come on. She didn't know any spells; she simply commanded the power inside her to break out.

And the power obeyed. A solid torrent of pure flame erupted from her palms. It was wider and fiercer than the first. It incinerated the very air in its path. The wave of fire slammed into the ghouls, instantly engulfing them both, leaving them absolutely zero chance. Where they had been standing just a second ago, only two smoking black marks remained on the charred grass.

Silence fell once more. The ogre froze mid-step, his jaw hanging slack. The math in his primitive brain clicked into place: a second fairy had appeared. Sticking around was suicide. With a vicious snarl, he shoved his paw into a hip pouch and yanked out a dark, smooth amulet. Casting one last glare at Dominique—a look brimming with hatred and superstitious dread—he crushed the amulet in his fist. It cracked with a dry snap, and the ogre's massive body vanished as if he had never been there at all. The fight was over.

The adrenaline fire in her blood died out just as suddenly as it had flared. Her legs gave out, as if all the bones had been pulled from them, and Dominique dropped to her knees, barely catching herself with her hands against the dirt. The world shrank to a pinprick, a deafening ring echoing in her ears. Through the haze clouding her vision, she saw movement.

Stella. The glow around her had faded, her wings had vanished, and her battle gear had shifted back into everyday clothes. Now she was wearing a short, green top tied in a careless knot under her bust, and a short orange miniskirt.

She was approaching slowly, almost cautiously. There she is, Stella. Princess of Solaria. Dominique narrowed her eyes slightly, sizing her up. What do I know about her from the cartoon? Just a basic, shallow bimbo obsessed with clothes. But... is that really the case?

The girl in front of her was exhausted, but there was no fear in her eyes, as if she had been confident that, even if she couldn't win, she could at least get away unscathed. She didn't look backed into a corner at all, and it seemed she was showing much more caution toward Dominique right now than she had toward the ogre. That didn't exactly align with her cartoon persona.

Stella stopped a few feet away. The scepter in her hands shrank down to the size of a regular wand. Finally, she took one more hesitant step forward and crouched down to be at eye level with Dominique.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Dominique nodded silently, unable to force a single word out. Stella looked at the smoking piles of ash, then back at Dominique. Shock, gratitude, and immense curiosity swam in her eyes.

"That was intense. Didn't expect to run into a fairy here. What school are you from? Not Cloud Tower by any chance?" She narrowed her eyes, giving Bloom an up-and-down look. "Actually, no. You're not dressed tackily enough for that. Beta Academy, maybe?"

Stella's question hung in the cold evening air. Dominique struggled to straighten up, still bracing her hands against her knees. The adrenaline had worn off, and crushing fatigue rushed in to take its place. Every muscle ached as if she'd just survived a hours-long no-holds-barred cage match. A nasty metallic taste coated her throat, and orange spots were still dancing in her vision. Side effects of using magic? Wonderful. As if I didn't have enough problems.

"What the hell is a Beta?" she breathed out. "Never heard of it."

Stella gave her a long, appraising look, her eyes tracking over Dominique's pale face and disheveled hair. A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed her eyes.

"Okay, let's sit you down first. You look like you're about to pass out," she said decisively. The princess clearly knew how to bounce back quickly.

She unceremoniously hooked her arm under Dominique's elbow, and Dominique let herself be guided to the nearest bench.

"By the way, I'm Stella," the blonde casually dropped, sitting down next to her. "And what's your name?"

"Bloom. My name is Bloom," Dominique repeated, as if trying to convince herself above anyone else that this was her name now.

"Bloom." Stella tested the name on her tongue. "Cute. Well, nice to meet you."

She laid her scepter across her lap. Her fingers were trembling slightly as she did so. Barely noticeable, but Dominique caught it. She's nervous, exhausted, or afraid the ogre might come back. Or all of the above.

"So, you're saying you're not from Beta? And not from Cloud Tower?" Stella stared at her suspiciously.

Dominique shook her head. The princess frowned even harder.

"And I haven't seen you around Alfea either..."

"I go to school here. In Gardenia," Dominique shrugged, trying her best to sound like an ordinary, totally bewildered teenager.

"What in the world is a Gardenia?" Stella raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"We are... in Gardenia right now," Dominique pointed toward the glowing city high-rises visible through the park's canopy. "And I go to school here, a normal high school."

Stella's face suddenly smoothed out, and she let out a ringing laugh, waving her hand dismissively.

"Oh, I get it now! But why didn't you go to Alfea?"

"Alfea? Where is that?" Dominique arched an eyebrow, sticking firmly to her cover story.

"Are you serious?" Stella's eyes widened. "You don't know about Alfea?"

Dominique shook her head again, projecting utter ignorance.

"Wow..." Stella drew out the word, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What are they even teaching you guys? Honestly, I'm surprised they teach magic here at all. Earth hasn't been part of the Magical Dimension for ages."

"They don't teach magic here," Dominique smiled wryly. "Magic is just fairy tales for kids around here."

"They don't?" Stella faltered. Her gaze slowly drifted from Dominique's face to the piles of ash on the scorched grass. "Then how did you..."

"I... I don't even know how it happened myself. When those things ran at me, I... God, I was so scared that..." For added believability, Dominique wrapped her arms around her own shoulders, faking a slight shudder of post-traumatic shock.

Stella jerked forward, nearly dropping her scepter.

"Hold on, hold on. Are you saying that was... that this was your first time?"

"Yeah, the first time," Dominique nodded uncertainly, looking at the blonde with wide, innocent eyes. "Like I said, I don't know how I..."

"Okay, stop, I get it," Stella raised her free hand to call for silence, and leaned back heavily against the bench. "Well, isn't this just peachy."

She stared up at the dark sky, her lips moving silently as if having a mental argument with herself. Dominique waited patiently, careful not to break character as the frightened schoolgirl, even though she was rejoicing on the inside.

"What... what did you get?" Bloom asked cautiously.

Stella shifted her gaze back to her. A wild mix of total disbelief and childlike excitement was now written all over her face.

"I get... that I just found an untrained fairy. Right here. On Earth."

"A fairy? What are you talking about?" Dominique chuckled nervously, scooting slightly toward the edge of the bench. "Look, I get it, stress, monsters, all that... But fairies? I'm a normal girl."

A fairy. She just called me a fairy. So it's all true. The Magical Dimension, the fairy school, everything, just like in that stupid cartoon.

"Normal girls don't incinerate ghouls with their bare hands," Stella pointed out reasonably, tapping a finger meaningfully against the shaft of her wand. "Take it from a princess, you're a fairy, you just didn't know it. It happens a lot: fear and other intense emotions awakened your power, and it manifested. The truth is, that power has always been inside you, you were just completely unaware of it."

"Are you serious? You seriously think I'm a fairy?" You'd have to be deaf to miss the skepticism dripping from Bloom's voice. "Just like in the cartoons?"

"Cartoons?" Stella paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly, before her face lit up with a mischievous smile. "Yup, just like in the cartoons. Except a hundred times cooler."

She flicked her wrist effortlessly, and a miniature sun flared to life, hovering right in front of Bloom's eyes. It bathed their faces in a warm, golden glow before shattering into a shower of golden dust that drifted slowly downward, vanishing into thin air.

"Wow," Bloom breathed out in awe, watching the fading sparks. Nice parlor trick. "And I... will I be able to do that too?" she asked breathlessly.

"Well, not exactly like that," Stella drawled thoughtfully, studying her with curiosity. "The light of Solaria is my ancestral power. But yours, it seems, is connected to fire. And it looks like one of the most powerful I've ever seen."

She said that last part quieter, more to herself than to Bloom. A glint of something akin to respect, mixed with a touch of wariness, flashed in her eyes. She's evaluating me. Trying to figure out how dangerous I am?

"And it's amazing," Stella went on. "Earth fairies have been considered extinct for a long time. For centuries now. So just imagine my surprise—neither I nor that ogre expected to run into a fairy here."

An extinct species? Dominique immediately filed that away. What kind of news is this? And how should I take it—is it a good thing or a bad thing? She tried to mold her face into an expression of genuine bewilderment.

"So, you're saying there used to be fairies on Earth?" she said slowly. "And I might be... the last of them?"

"Pretty much," Stella shrugged, as if discussing the weather. "Do you guys have absolutely no mention of fairies here? Myths, legends? Bedtime stories?"

"We do," Bloom nodded. "Plenty of them. Little winged people living in flowers, things like that..."

"See!" Stella beamed triumphantly. "They're not just fairy tales. It's history. History that you Earthlings have conveniently forgotten or turned into kids' stories."

Dominique felt a chill run down her spine; she hadn't anticipated this. Wielding magic would be incredible, but being the sole representative of an extinct race—that sounded like painting a giant target on her forehead.

"And what does that mean for me?" she asked cautiously. "Being 'the last' sounds a bit... ominous. Usually, people hunt things like that."

"Oh, nothing major, I think," Stella waved her hand carelessly, but then froze, her face taking on a thoughtful expression. "Although..."

"What?" Dominique tensed up.

"Witches," Stella drawled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "They might take an interest in you."

"What the hell are witches now?" Dominique rolled her eyes mentally. Of course, where there are fairies, there are witches. There was a trio of morons in the cartoon, the Trix, or something like that.

"There are these certain ones," Stella snorted dismissively. "They go to Cloud Tower. It's a school for witches. Gloomy little place, let me tell you. They're most likely the ones who sent those things after me," she nodded at the smoking black spots left by the monsters.

"Wow. And who are they?"

"Three upperclassmen," Stella sneered contemptuously. "They call themselves the Trix. Ugh, what a stupid name... Sounds like a brand of cheap breakfast cereal. They think they're some grand, evil masterminds."

Alright. Witches, the hunt for the ring—so far, everything is strictly following the cartoon's plot. Dominique chuckled internally. Except the girl sitting in front of her right now wasn't some drawn picture on a screen, but a real, living person—or fairy, in this case.

She cut her eyes toward Stella again. The blonde was slightly chewing her lower lip, a dead giveaway of her nervousness. It was unclear why: whether due to Bloom's presence, or the fear of the ogre returning. She needed to probe a little.

"And these... Trix," Bloom started carefully. "Why are they picking on you? Do they have nothing better to do?"

I wonder if she'll tell me? A lot rides on the answer to that question. Including my future plans for this fairy. Dominique mentally rubbed her hands together, waiting for the reaction. Stella, surprisingly enough, answered without holding anything back.

"Well, they've latched onto me because of this," Stella made a graceful flick of her wrist.

The scepter in her hand flared and instantly shrank, morphing into a large, heavy ring. Stella immediately slipped it onto her finger and twisted it ostentatiously, admiring how it caught the light.

"This is the Ring of Solaria. It holds immense power."

Fascinating. Dominique mentally leaned back in her imaginary office chair, as she often did when analyzing information. This Stella just casually blurted out her biggest secret to a complete stranger. Either she really is the naive bimbo from the cartoon... Dominique mentally folded down one finger. ...or this secret isn't worth a dime, since the witches already know about it anyway. The second is more likely. Which means she's not as stupid as she seems.

"Anyway, let's get out of here before those things come back. Do you live far from here, by the way?"

"No, not really," Bloom frowned, portraying mild confusion. "A couple of blocks away. Why?"

"Perfect," Stella clapped her hands cheerfully, dusting off her skirt, and stood up from the bench. "We're going to your place, you pack your bags real quick, and we're off to Alfea."

Dominique blinked. This time, her surprise was entirely genuine.

She thought she would have to invite herself along, she'd been meticulously preparing her arguments, and here this girl just casually declares: pack your stuff, we're going to another dimension? Just like that?

On the one hand—bingo, goal achieved with zero effort. But on the other... somewhere deep inside, a dull, purely professional annoyance began to stir within Dominique. She despised it when things were done like this—on a whim, without a shred of planning. In her past life, a relocation meant at least a few days of preparation, and here? Grab your toothbrush and jump into a portal? It was infuriating. But on her face, she carefully maintained the mask of a shell-shocked teenager.

"What do you mean, to Alfea?" Bloom laughed nervously, looking up at the princess. "Right now? Just like that? Hey, I'm not going anywhere! I have... a house here, parents, and I have school tomorrow, actually!"

Stella sighed heavily. All her previous frivolity vanished in an instant.

"Bloom, listen to me very carefully," she crossed her arms, looking down at her. "This isn't a question of whether you 'want to' or not. You need to go to Alfea."

"Why?"

"Because!" Stella cast a glance at the scorched patch on the grass. "Power like that without control is very, very dangerous. Do you even realize what happened today? You could have burned half the park down. Or worse—yourself. You just got incredibly lucky today. But what happens next time?"

"Next time?" Bloom breathed out in bewilderment.

What a classic move—first scare them, then offer the solution, Dominique chuckled internally, hiding a cold smirk behind the mask of a lost teenager. I've done exactly this hundreds of times during business negotiations. Create a problem for the client, and then offer the one and only salvation. Not bad, Princess. Not bad at all.

"Yes, next time," Stella added much softer, holding her hand out to her. "The magic inside you has awakened. It will seek a way out. And if you don't learn to control it, it will start controlling you. Believe me, Alfea is the best place to get you the help you need. So, are we going?"

Seeing that Bloom was still hesitating, Stella brought out the heavy artillery.

"Look, I don't want to scare you," she started, lowering her voice, "but the ogre got away. The Trix were only hunting me before. But now they might start hunting you too."

"Why would they care about me?!" Bloom jumped up from the bench in fright.

"Think about it. You helped me, interfered with their plans. Which means they'll want revenge." Stella chuckled, as if explaining an absolute truth to a clueless child. "Or out of pure interest. The power you just showed off is seriously impressive. They'll either want to recruit you into their little witch coven, or..." the princess took a dramatic pause, "...steal your power."

"Steal my power?" Bloom arched her eyebrows incredulously, though inside, Dominique immediately tensed. "Is that even possible?"

"Technically—yes. But in the Magical Dimension, it's considered the ultimate taboo," Stella's voice became unexpectedly serious, shedding all its frivolous undertones. "It's worse than murder. There's no forgiveness for a crime like that; it's harshly punished by law and condemned by everyone—fairies, and even the vast majority of witches."

"So if it's a taboo..."

"I said: in the Magical Dimension," Stella interrupted her weightily. "Earth hasn't been part of it for a long time. Ever since fairies and magic vanished from here, this world... it's viewed as wild territory. The Council's laws have no jurisdiction here."

Dominique felt an unpleasant chill run down her spine.

"So, you're saying that on Earth they can just show up, take my power, and they'll get away with it?" she clarified.

Stella shrugged. "Well, the Council will probably wag a finger at them for appearances' sake, but legally... Yeah. They'll get away with it."

"Perfect. Just wonderful," Bloom exhaled, nervously rubbing her forearms. "And what, are all witches this... completely deranged?"

"Not all of them, obviously, but most," Stella grimaced, as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. "Dark magic leaves its mark. And the Trix—they're the craziest of the bunch."

Dominique almost burst out laughing. This girl, despite all her ostentatious socialite mannerisms, was a brilliant manipulator. Seeing her feigned hesitation, the princess had skillfully woven in the threat of the witches, masterfully backing Bloom into a corner.

Well then, it seems all my hasty conclusions about a clueless trust-fund bimbo just shattered against harsh reality, Dominique summarized mentally. Princess Stella, you are damn good at getting what you want.

Dominique quickly weighed her options. The choice, however, had been obvious from the very beginning. Staying here meant constantly looking over her shoulder, risking a run-in with witches while wielding an element she neither understood nor controlled. Leaving with Stella meant stepping into the unknown, but that was exactly where she would find the answers and the opportunity to turn this power into a genuine weapon.

Alfea is information. It's access to magic. It's my launching pad in this world.

Bloom looked up at Stella, her eyes filled with masterfully acted fear, mixed with a splash of timid hope.

"And... this school..." she mumbled, her voice trembling.

"Alfea," Stella offered patiently. She was looking at Bloom expectantly. Come on, say yes, was written as clear as day in her gaze.

"And... how long do you study there?" Bloom asked hesitantly.

"Three years," Stella answered cheerfully. She immediately added a light, joking note, clearly trying to defuse the tension. "Unless, of course, you slack off too much and skip classes."

"But... are you sure they'll even accept me? I don't know how to do anything. I didn't even know I was a fairy until today!"

"With power like that?" Stella snorted expressively and waved a hand at the piles of ash. "The headmasters will be fighting over you. Believe me."

With a confident smile, she offered Bloom her hand. Dominique, mentally giving the princess a solid A-plus for her brilliant performance, took the offered hand with a relieved sigh.

"Now I just have to explain all this to my parents," Bloom sighed, looking toward the park exit.

Stella chuckled, and something painfully self-assured flashed in her eyes.

"Don't worry. I know how to talk to parents. I have a lot of experience."

Experience in masterfully lying to parents, or experience in bending them to your will? crossed Dominique's mind. Though, knowing high-society offspring, it's most likely both.

Stella's face broke into her first genuinely relaxed, sincere smile of this entire crazy evening.

"Let's go," she said, brushing an invisible speck of dust off Bloom's shoulder. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

 

[VitahAR]

The walk home was filled with Stella's incessant chatter, praising Alfea as if she were being paid for the advertisement. She walked alongside, holding Bloom by the elbow, and from the outside, they looked like two high school girls heading home after a hard day. Nothing in their appearance hinted at a battle with monsters and magic capable of burning things to the ground.

Stella curiously looked around, taking in the ordinary Gardenia street. An old pickup truck rattled past them. Stella followed it with a long, scrutinizing gaze.

"You have some interesting technology here," she drawled when the car disappeared around the corner. "Almost like on Zenith."

"Zenith?" Bloom asked. "What's that?"

"Oh, another world with a focus on technology," Stella waved her hand dismissively. "They also love all sorts of hardware, microchips, wires... Only..."

She faltered, looking doubtfully at a leaning lamppost.

"Only what?" Bloom grew wary.

"Don't be offended," Stella lowered her voice as if sharing a terrible secret. "It's just that you... are a little behind compared to them."

Dominique arched a skeptical eyebrow.

"A little?"

Stella couldn't hold back and snorted.

"Okay... A lot. A whole lot," she chuckled. "They have planetary-scale climate control and droids over there, and you guys... well... you guys are cute."

Finally, they turned onto the familiar street. The last time I'm walking down this street as an ordinary high schooler. Tomorrow, everything changes, Dominique thought, looking at the approaching house.

The door opened before they even reached it. Vanessa stood on the threshold, bathed in the anxious glow of the porch light. Her face, usually so warm and calm, was pale and drawn with worry. Behind her loomed Mike's sturdy figure, like a shadow.

"Bloom! My God, Bloom! Where have you been? We were out of our minds!" Relief and panic mixed in Vanessa's voice. She rushed forward to hug her daughter but froze upon noticing the unfamiliar girl beside her. "And who is this with you?"

Mike cast a suspicious glare at the blonde. Bloom didn't usually bring friends home, especially not at this hour.

"This... this is my friend," Bloom hesitated for a second, searching for the right answer. "Stella."

"Hello. I'm Stella. Princess of Solaria and a friend of your daughter," Stella blurted out, flashing her most charming smile.

Why the hell did you have to blurt that out? Dominique groaned internally. At that moment, she wanted to turn around and smack the idiot. Mike and Vanessa exchanged a stunned look.

"Princess? Friend?" Vanessa mumbled, casting a look at her husband full of a silent question: Do you understand any of this?

Mike, however, upon hearing the word "princess," instantly tensed. His suspicions took form. His daughter's distant gaze, this strange, overly chipper girl...

"Right, get inside, quickly," Mike said in a tone that brokered no argument, stepping aside.

They were led into the living room and seated on the couch. The atmosphere was strained to the breaking point. Mike stood right in front of them, shifting his heavy gaze from one girl to the other. Vanessa sat on the edge of an armchair, nervously twisting a napkin in her hands. Dominique understood: the hardest part was about to begin—negotiations based on pure absurdity.

"Alright," Mike began, his voice unusually harsh. "Where were you?"

"We... were walking in the park," Bloom answered evenly.

"Walking," Mike nodded. "I see. Bloom, look at me. Look me in the eye. You look strange. What are you on?"

"Mike, stop it!" Vanessa intervened. "You're scaring her!"

She turned to Stella with a tight, polite smile.

"Stella, what a beautiful name. You must go to the same school? Have you... been friends for long?"

Stella, completely missing the subtext, waved her hand carelessly.

"Oh, just a couple of hours! If it weren't for your Bloom, I wouldn't even be alive! We're bonded for life now!"

Vanessa paled even more. Bonded for life?

"What?!" Mike barked. "What are you talking about? Were you threatened? Is this about drug money?"

"What does drug money have to do with anything?!" Stella boiled over, losing patience with these clueless adults. "We were attacked by monsters! An ogre and ghouls from Cloud Tower!"

"Sweetie, what are you saying? What monsters?" Vanessa asked softly, trying to hide her nervousness behind a smile.

Mike's jaw muscle twitched. His worst fears were confirmed. Hallucinations, and very strong ones at that.

"Listen here, 'princess,'" he took a step toward Stella. "One more word like that, and I'm calling an ambulance, not the cops. If you dragged my daughter into trouble..."

Seeing that this was going nowhere, Stella sighed. She realized words wouldn't be enough.

"I understand your disbelief," she said calmly. "I know this sounds insane. Words are useless here. So... I'll show you."

She rose gracefully and held her palm out, fingers slightly splayed.

Mike instinctively tensed; Vanessa froze. For a moment, nothing happened, but then a tiny spark ignited in the center of Stella's palm. It was the size of a pea but shone brighter than any lamp. It grew, pulsed, transforming into a glowing sphere of pure sunlight.

The sphere detached from her hand and floated slowly across the room like a soap bubble. It didn't burn or scorch; it simply radiated light. The orb illuminated Mike and Vanessa's stunned faces, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Mike instinctively took a step back, shielding his wife. Vanessa gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. Her eyes widened in terror and disbelief.

The orb of light floated just as smoothly back into Stella's palm and vanished. Silence hung in the living room.

"Do you believe me now?" she looked at both of them. "I suppose there's been a misunderstanding. I suggest we start over."

She straightened up, her voice sounding confident and calm.

"My name is Stella. I am the Princess of Solaria, a kingdom in the Magical Dimension."

"Where?" Mike asked blankly.

"The Magical Dimension," Stella repeated patiently. "Listen, even though this will be hard for you to believe, besides your Earth, there are hundreds of other interconnected worlds. I studied at a school for fairies in one of those worlds. Unfortunately, a few weeks ago, someone started hunting me."

She sat back down on the couch, and Mike and Vanessa, as if hypnotized, sank back into their armchairs.

"I'm being pursued by the minions of evil witches," Stella continued. "They're after my magical artifact." She raised her hand, showing the ring on her finger. "It's a family heirloom."

"Witches?" Vanessa repeated weakly.

"Yes. I was forced to flee to Earth, hoping they wouldn't find me here. But they did. Tonight, in the park, they attacked me. An ogre and his ghouls. I fought, but there were too many of them. I would have died if not for your daughter."

All eyes shifted to Bloom. She sat quietly, eyes downcast.

"Bloom saw the fight. One of the monsters lunged at her, and then..." Stella paused, "...she unleashed magic. She destroyed the ghouls with a single strike."

"That's not true," Vanessa whispered. "Bloom... our Bloom... she's just a normal girl..."

"She's a fairy," Stella said firmly. "A very powerful fairy."

Mike looked at his daughter with a long, heavy gaze.

"Bloom. Is this true?"

Bloom slowly raised her head and nodded.

"Yes. I didn't understand what was happening to me. Those things jumped at me, and I... I just wanted to protect myself. And suddenly, fire burst from my hands."

She raised her palm, looking at it as if seeing it for the first time.

"I burned them."

Vanessa let out a sob, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Bloom has to learn how to control it," Stella continued. "Power like that without control is a ticking time bomb. She could accidentally hurt herself. Or someone else."

"And what do you suggest?" Mike asked hoarsely.

"There's a place where they can teach her. Alfea—the best school for fairies in the entire Magical Dimension. There, they'll teach her to understand her power and control it. And she'll be safe there."

"Safe," Mike repeated. "In another world. With a bunch of strangers?"

"With professionals," Stella corrected. "With the best teachers of magic."

That was the last straw. Mike stood up abruptly, shielding Bloom.

"No," he cut in. His voice left no room for argument. "Absolutely not. We don't know who you are. We don't know what this Alfea is, and our daughter is definitely not going anywhere. She is staying right here, where we can protect her."

"But Mike, you saw it!" Vanessa pleaded with her husband, though her own eyes were filled with the same fear. "If this power is so dangerous..."

"Which is exactly why she's staying home!" Mike repeated firmly. "Here, where we can keep an eye on her. Where we can protect her. Period."

"But you don't understand..."

Stella tried to argue, offering a few more points about the danger of uncontrolled magic, about the witches who might return. But she ran into a solid wall of parental fear and stubbornness. The negotiations had hit a dead end.

Finally, seeing that the argument could stretch on until morning, Vanessa decided to call a temporary truce.

"Things will be clearer in the morning," she said placatingly, though her voice trembled. "We are all very tired. We need time to... process all this. To think it over with a clear head, not make hasty decisions."

She looked at Stella.

"We have a guest room. Please, stay the night. It's late, and... well, if those monsters are really out there somewhere..." she shivered, "...it'll be safer."

Stella, realizing that further pressure was useless, accepted the offer with royal dignity.

"Thank you for your hospitality."

The evening ended in oppressive silence. Vanessa showed Stella upstairs to the guest room, brought her a fresh towel and pajamas.

"If you need anything..." she began.

"Thank you, I'll manage," Stella nodded.

Meanwhile, Dominique lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling with its stupid flower chandelier. The day had been incredibly intense. A fight with monsters, an awakening of magic, the talk with the parents. Magic, fairies, other worlds, it's all real. She raised her hand to eye level, inspecting her palm in the dim light of the lamp. A normal hand. Slender fingers, neat nails, nothing special. But fire had erupted from this hand.

Suddenly, her door creaked softly.

"Bloom? Are you awake?" Stella whispered, poking her head through the gap.

"I'm awake."

Stella slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She looked around and whistled.

"Wow. You really can't have too much pink, huh?"

"As you can see," Bloom grumbled.

"I see," Stella chuckled, examining the posters on the walls. "Who are they? Singers?"

"Uh-huh."

"Cute."

She walked over to the shelf where the plush unicorn sat.

"Oh God, what is that?"

"A unicorn."

"I can see it's a unicorn. But... why does it have such..." she twirled a finger near her temple, "...psychotic eyes?"

"I don't know," Bloom shrugged. "It came that way."

"It came that way," Stella repeated thoughtfully, staring at the unicorn. "So you picked it up, looked into those eyes, and decided—yep, I'll take this one?"

"It was a gift..." Bloom shrugged. Probably, Dominique added mentally.

Stella shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. The rabbit, who had been sleeping underneath, poked his head out and stared at the guest.

"Oh, and who's this?"

"Kiko. My rabbit."

"Cute," Stella smiled, holding out her hand. Kiko sniffed her fingers and nuzzled her palm. "At least he's normal and not pink."

She scratched him behind the ear, and Kiko blissfully closed his eyes.

"Listen, about your parents..." Stella grew serious.

"They're scared," Bloom said quietly.

"Yeah," Stella nodded. "Your dad looked ready to toss me in an asylum. But I get it. I guess..."

She trailed off, looking at the floor.

"Do you have a complicated relationship with your parents?" Bloom asked carefully.

Stella snorted.

"You could say that. My mother is the Queen of Solaria. She's... very busy. With the kingdom, politics, balls, receptions. And my father... I can't even get to him without an appointment," she winced. "...my parents are divorced. Have been for a while."

"Seriously? How do they rule, then?"

"Just like that. On the throne together, but living apart."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Stella waved it off. "I'm used to it. On the plus side, I have total freedom. No one suffocating me with care, no one locking me in the house."

She looked at Bloom.

"Your dad... he's very protective of you. That's... that's a good thing, I guess. It means he cares."

"Yeah," Bloom agreed. "He's a good dad."

A pause hung in the air.

"Listen," Stella leaned closer, "about the magic. I know it's scary. Especially when you don't understand what's happening."

"Yeah, a little bit," Bloom admitted.

"They'll teach you at Alfea. The teachers are great. And the fairies there... well, most of them are normal. There are a couple of bitches, obviously, but you get that everywhere."

She smiled.

"The main thing is that you'll understand who you are, what you can do. Magic is awesome."

"What if I can't handle it?" Bloom asked quietly.

"You will," Stella said confidently. "With power like yours, you'll definitely handle it. Just... don't be afraid of it. Magic is a part of you; you shouldn't try to control it by force. You have to feel it."

She stood up, stretching.

"Alright, I should get to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day. I have to convince your dad that I'm not a crazy junkie."

Bloom chuckled.

"Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it," Stella headed for the door, but turned back. "You know, Bloom... I'm glad I met you. Really. You saved my life, and I won't forget that."

"Good night, Stella."

"Good night."

The door clicked shut softly. Dominique was alone again. She lay there, replaying the events in her head. Who would have thought a kids' cartoon would turn out to be real. Who would have thought a character invented by screenwriters and drawn by artists would turn out to be a living, thinking person. Stella was real. With her own problems, her own past, her own fears. Not a cardboard princess from a cartoon, but a real girl.

Fascinating. Very fascinating. And, of course, the most important thing... Dominique raised her hand to eye level. She focused, and in that same instant, a tiny spark ignited on the tip of her index finger. It quickly morphed into a tongue of flame that began to spread rapidly, engulfing her entire hand. The fire crawled over her skin, but it didn't burn. There was only a strange warmth... Until there was a sharp smell of something burning.

Panicking, Dominique shook her hand violently, trying to throw off the flame, and it instantly extinguished. She examined her hand—there was no burn, the skin was intact, but a few hairs on her wrist were singed. And the heat, as if her hand had been briefly dunked in boiling water, served as a sobering slap to her investigative itch. Damn. Zero control. Dominique lowered her hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding wildly. Stella is right, this is dangerous. I definitely need a place where they'll teach me how to use this power. Before I burn myself alive. Or someone else.

She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, everything would be decided. Tomorrow, her parents would either let her go or they wouldn't. But I am leaving. One way or another. Because there's nothing left for me here.

In the Trix's room, located on one of the upper levels of Cloud Tower, a relaxed evening atmosphere reigned. The room was spacious, illuminated by the soft purple glow of crystals embedded in the dark vaulted ceiling. A fluffy, deep-burgundy rug lay on the floor, and along the walls sat three massive canopy beds and stylish ebony furniture, cluttered with scattered clothes, makeup, and books.

Darcy sat in front of a large oval mirror. She slowly ran a graceful hand through her incredibly long, thick brown hair, adjusting strand after strand. She wore a tight-fitting purple latex suit that accentuated her figure, paired with matching thigh-high gloves. Darcy leaned slightly toward the mirror, applying the finishing touches of dark purple lipstick to her plump lips. Humming in satisfaction, she picked up a bottle of nail polish and began leisurely touching up her nails.

At that moment, the massive oak door flew open, and Stormy marched in with a confident stride, wearing a short red dress that clung tightly to her waist. In her hands, she clutched a glossy fashion magazine that she had clearly just confiscated from some freshman in the hallway. Her short, unruly blue-purple curls stuck out in every direction as if charged with static electricity, and malicious sparks danced in her bright green eyes.

Noticing Darcy dolling herself up, Stormy's lips twisted as if she had a sudden toothache.

"What, getting ready for another boy toy?" she glared at her sister with undisguised irritation and envy, carelessly tossing the magazine onto her bed.

"And what's it to you, dear sister? Want to join in?" Darcy didn't even turn her head, continuing to carefully run the brush over her nail; only her yellow eyes glinted mockingly in the mirror's reflection.

"I'd sooner grow wings and transfer to Alfea than go anywhere near your freaks," Stormy snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ha-ha-ha," Darcy laughed melodically. "Why freaks? I only pick cute guys, whereas you... With a personality like yours, only Mr. Right Hand can comfort you. I actually feel sorry for you."

"Go to hell!" Stormy snarled.

She roughly snatched the crumpled magazine from the bed and hurled it at her sister's back with all her might. Darcy, still without turning around, simply gave a lazy snap of the fingers on her free hand. The magazine didn't even make it within a meter of her before it blew to shreds, as if detonated from the inside. Scraps of glossy paper fluttered slowly down onto the rug.

"I'd rather make do with my hand than give it up to just anyone!" Stormy barked, clenching her fists.

Darcy paused for a moment, lowering the brush, and then burst into loud laughter, throwing her head back.

"That's exactly my point! In your case, the hand is all that's left. Want me to leave you two alone so you don't feel awkward?"

"How about I give you a proper charge before your date?!" Stormy's face twisted with malice. Her hands were instantly enveloped in crackling, bluish electrical discharges that danced nimbly between her fingers.

"I think you both need to cool off."

The voice was quiet, but it sent a chill down both witches' spines. The temperature in the room plummeted by a good ten degrees. Darcy shivered, putting down the nail polish, and the sparks on Stormy's hands died out in an instant.

Both witches turned toward the largest bed at the back of the room. There, with one leg crossed over the other, lay the third sister. Her incredibly long, snow-white hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail, cascading over the dark pillows like a silver waterfall. Icy was wearing a sparkling, shimmering ice-blue crop top that exposed her flat stomach, and a matching short skirt. She dragged a finger across her datapad screen with lazy grace, her face—with its sharp cheekbones and expressive ice-blue eyes—remaining absolutely impassive. She didn't even look up at her sisters, completely ignoring their latest spat.

Suddenly, the air in the room thickened; it rippled like the surface of a pond when a stone is thrown in. Space warped, and out of the resulting haze, the ogre Knut tumbled to the floor with a heavy thud. The massive creature dropped to his knees, panting heavily. All three witches sprang up instantly. Darcy spun around from the mirror, ball lightning crackled to life in Stormy's hand, and Icy slid off the bed, tossing the datapad aside, a shard of ice already materializing in her grip.

"Knut? Why the hell did you bust into our room uninvited?" Stormy barked.

The ogre pulled his head down between his shoulders and raised his hands in a pleading gesture.

"Forgive me, mistresses... I used the teleportation stone..." he rumbled, hunching guiltily.

"I hope you had a good reason," Icy said coldly, and her voice sent shivers down the ogre's spine. "What about the princess? Did you get the ring?"

Knut hesitated, his beady eyes darting into the corners of the room.

"That's... there were complications..."

The temperature in the room dropped a few more degrees. Icy slowly narrowed her eyes.

"What kind of complications?" her voice grew even quieter, and simultaneously more dangerous. "Stop stalling. Did you get the ring or not?"

"I almost had it, mistresses..." the ogre began to excuse himself, gesturing actively with his massive hands. "At first, everything went just like you planned. That shiny rock you gave me... it hit her portal. The gateway broke, and didn't close right away. I managed to jump in after her before the hole collapsed."

Icy exchanged a look with Darcy. The artifact had worked perfectly—scrambling the coordinates and destabilizing the transit. Darcy straightened up, stepping away from the mirror.

"And where did you end up?"

"We ended up in some world without magic," Knut continued. "That little fairy was almost out of energy. We cornered her, practically had her..."

"Well?" Icy made an impatient gesture. "Get to the point."

"But then another fairy showed up!" Knut blurted out.

Darcy arched an eyebrow.

"Another fairy? In a world without magic?" she traded glances with Icy. "What world was this?"

"I don't know, mistress," Knut shook his head. "But I left a trace! I can go back..."

"Knut," Icy cut him off, her voice literally freezing him to the floor. "You failed. And you lost my squad."

"M-mistress..." the ogre stammered, not daring to meet her eyes, his hands shaking. "It's not my fault! I almost had the princess! But there... that other one..."

"The other one?" Stormy flared up, stepping closer. "So what? You had a whole squad! And you couldn't handle a couple of fairies?"

"But that second one..." Knut pulled his head down even further, as if trying to shrink. "She's a fire fairy! She burned them! Just burned them all!"

Silence fell. Darcy raised an eyebrow, a flash of intrigue crossing her face.

"A fire fairy on a backwater planet with no magic?" she slowly circled Knut, studying him. "Fascinating."

Icy let out a slow breath, calming herself. The failure infuriated her—she had wasted time and resources on this operation—but this new information was too interesting to ignore. An unknown fairy with the power of fire. Fire itself was an element of destruction, wild and untamable. Fairies... they tended to gravitate toward a different kind of power—light, nature, water. Fairy nature and fire didn't mix very well; it required a specific temperament, a specific kind of willpower. That was exactly why fire fairies were considered extremely rare, and every single one of them possessed immense potential.

"You're going back, you worthless lump," Icy said in an icy tone. "And you will find them. You will take the ring and capture this fire fairy."

"But how, mistress?" Knut pleaded. "That planet is huge! How will I find them?"

Icy smiled coldly.

"We'll give you a helper." She turned to Darcy. "Did you put a mark on him? Summon him here."

"Right here?" Darcy grimaced in disgust. "He'll drool all over the room. This rug is worth more than his life."

"Bring him here, Darcy," Icy shot her a freezing glare. "Don't make me angry."

"Fine, fine," Darcy threw her hands up in surrender. "You're cleaning up after him."

She made a few rapid passes with her hands, her fingers tracing glowing symbols in the air. The air in the room thickened again, rippling with a heat-like haze. Out of the newly formed portal, another monster tumbled out with a crash, collapsing onto the floor next to Knut and panting heavily. He was taller and broader than the ogre, with lumpy gray skin covered in growths and warts. A long, drooling snout with rows of crooked teeth, beady malicious eyes, and massive clawed paws. It was a Tracker Troll, a creature capable of hunting down prey by the faintest scent.

"Ugh, that abomination is in our room," Darcy pinched her nose.

The troll looked around, inhaled noisily through its snout, and, with a look of brainless ecstasy on its face, reached a filthy paw toward the silk sheets on the nearest bed.

"What the hell?!" Stormy barked, her eyes flashing. "Get the hell away from my bed!"

She threw her hand forward and struck the monster with a bolt of lightning. The troll let out a pitiful howl and recoiled in offense, rubbing its scorched shoulder.

"Enough!" Icy snapped. She turned to Knut. "This troll can track anyone by scent. Take him there, to the place where the princess and that fairy were last seen. Take reinforcements from the dungeons. And do not disappoint us again, Knut. There will be no third chances."

Knut nodded frantically.

"Yes, mistress! I won't fail! I swear!"

Icy took a new teleportation amulet from a jewelry box and handed it to Knut, identical to the one he had crushed to escape.

"Go," Icy said coldly. "Do not return without results."

The ogre, whose fear of the witches outweighed his terror of the fire fairy, hastily muttered the activation words. The next instant, both monsters vanished in a flash, leaving behind only a stench that Darcy vainly tried to escape by pinching her nose shut.

Stormy clenched her fists angrily, sparks still dancing across her hands.

"I should have gone!" she rounded on her sisters, her face flushed with indignation. "I would have smeared them! I would've grabbed the ring and dragged that fire girl back here! Why do we even bother with these idiots?"

"Yeah?" Darcy purred, returning to the mirror. "And then daddy King Radius comes knocking and asks: 'Now where is the witch who bullied my little girl?'. And off you fly straight to the Solaria mines to dig for magic ore."

"I wouldn't have gotten caught," Stormy grumbled, but uncertainty was already creeping into her voice.

"As far as I know, Stella isn't blind," Darcy adjusted a lock of hair, looking at her reflection. "And only a blind person with amnesia would fail to notice and remember that purple mop of yours."

"What did you say?" The air around Stormy began to spark, and she took a step toward Darcy.

"Calm down, Stormy," Icy intervened, her voice strangely serene. "Darcy is right. It's better we keep our heads down right now."

"Exactly," Darcy shot a pointed look at Stormy through the mirror. "If a certain someone hadn't attacked her right in the middle of Magix last year, she still wouldn't know we were after her ring."

Stormy clamped her jaw shut, her face turning red, but she had no argument. That failure last year, when she tried to take the ring by force right on the street, had been her mistake. Stella remembered her, and now the Princess of Solaria knew exactly who was hunting her.

"Enough," Icy cut in, returning to her bed and picking up the datapad. "You can't change the past. Let Knut handle them. And we'll see what kind of fire fairy has shown up at such an inconvenient time."

A flash of energy briefly illuminated the scorched circle of grass in the Gardenia park. When the light faded, Knut and his new squad stood at the site of the recent battle—a dozen ghouls, and a Tracker Troll that was snorting heavily, looking around. The park was empty and quiet; only the distant city lights flickered through the trees. The ground beneath their feet still held the traces of magic—charred grass, the smell of burning in the air.

"Search!" Knut commanded, pointing a finger at the ground next to the largest scorch mark.

The Tracker Troll dropped to all fours and began sniffing the ground hungrily, like a massive hound. Its nostrils flared as it drew in the air, sweeping its snout from side to side until it hit on what it was looking for. In this gray, magicless world, which smelled only of exhaust fumes and rotting leaves, the scent of two young fairies radiated as brightly as a beacon in pitch darkness. The troll instantly isolated the right scents from the general mess, and there were no other sources of magic here capable of masking that trail. The troll let out a low, guttural growl, raised its head, and, without a second of hesitation, moved toward the residential neighborhoods, dragging the whole horde behind it. The ghouls followed, their claws clicking on the asphalt, their yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

Knut trudged after them, clutching the teleportation amulet in his hand. The hunt had begun.

 

[VitahAR]

The night brought Dominique no peace. She lay in bed, staring blankly at the dark ceiling, feverishly running through the plot of that idiotic cartoon that had suddenly become her reality. A couple of days ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who told her such a thing. But now, with a literal princess from another world sleeping in the very next room, fiction was no longer the delirious babble of lazy screenwriters. It had become a roadmap she needed to study thoroughly.

The only problem was, there wasn't much to study. She remembered the visuals—bright, sparkly, with musical transformations and outfits. She remembered the general vibe: a magic school, princesses, good versus evil. She remembered the main character's name was Bloom and that she was from Earth. That was about it. The specifics—names, plot twists, who was hunting what, and how it all ended—blurred in her mind like a dream you try to recall in the middle of the day.

Meanwhile, in the guest room, Stella wasn't sleeping either. She sat on the wide windowsill, pulling her knees to her chin, staring at the empty street outside, while her fingers nervously toyed with the smooth metal of the Ring of Solaria. The princess felt cornered. She was in a stranger's house, hunted by the most deranged witches in Magix, and her new, conveniently acquired ally was, for now, an unpredictable, uncontrollable force. Stella remembered the park perfectly well, and she knew: if this redhead snapped, she could incinerate them both faster than the Trix could ever reach them.

At that exact moment, a procession straight out of a nightmare was already making its way down the peaceful, family-car-lined street. A massive, wart-covered, drooling troll led the way, his ugly snout lowered to the ground, greedily inhaling the cold air. Right behind him waddled Knut the ogre, flanked by a dozen hideous ghouls that scraped their long claws against the asphalt. Soon, the procession slowed and came to a halt in front of one of the most manicured two-story houses on the block.

In the master bedroom on the second floor, Mike and Vanessa were whispering, afraid to wake the girls. Their familiar world had collapsed in a single instant: magic, monsters, princesses. Mike sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers steepled together, staring at the floor with a heavy, scowling gaze. Vanessa couldn't sit still. She paced nervously from corner to corner, her trembling hands pressed tightly to her chest.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Our Bloom... magic... monsters..."

"We have to believe it," Mike said hollowly, without looking up. "You saw that orb of light in our living room. That was real."

"But that's... that's impossible! Things like that don't happen!"

"Vanessa," he finally looked up at her with red, tired eyes. "I saw it. You saw it. Unless it was a mass hallucination... we have to believe it."

She stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, wrapping her arms around her own shoulders.

"What do we do, Mike? What do we do with this... with all this madness?"

"I don't know." Mike sighed heavily and wiped a broad hand over his face. "But I know one thing. We are not handing our daughter over to some... school in another dimension. To hell with that."

"But Mike, you heard what that girl, Stella, said. If Bloom doesn't learn to control her power..."

"We'll teach her here!" he cut her off stubbornly.

"How?!" Vanessa's voice cracked into a desperate sob. "How are we supposed to teach her something we know absolutely nothing about?!"

Mike stood up abruptly and walked to the window, peering into the dark yard.

"I don't know, Vanessa. But I'm not letting her go God knows where, to people we've never laid eyes on. She's staying right here, at home, where I can protect her."

"Protect her?" Vanessa looked at his broad back with bitter irony. "Mike, those... those monsters they talked about... Do you honestly think we can protect her from them?"

"I'm a firefighter, Vanessa. I've pulled people out of burning buildings. I know what danger is. And I know how to protect my family."

He turned to her, absolute, unwavering resolve etched into his features.

"I have a shotgun in the safe. If those things come here..."

"A shotgun?!" Vanessa gasped. "Mike, these aren't burglars! They're... they're monsters!"

"Buckshot works against anything made of flesh," he said grimly. "And it doesn't matter if they're burglars or some magical freaks."

Vanessa sank helplessly onto the bed, burying her face in her trembling hands.

"I'm so scared, Mike. I'm so scared for her."

Mike's anger evaporated instantly. He walked over to his wife, sat beside her, and pulled her into a tight hug, pressing her head to his shoulder.

"I'm scared too. But that's exactly why I'm not letting her go. She's our daughter. We'll figure it out... Somehow."

They sat in the dim light in silence, holding on to each other tightly.

"We'll talk to her again in the morning," Vanessa said quietly. "We'll discuss everything calmly. Think it over with clear heads."

"Yeah," Mike nodded, kissing the top of her head. "In the morning."

But their morning was not destined to come peacefully. Suddenly, a short, panicked bark from the neighbor's dog rang out from the street, only to be cut off unnaturally fast. The massive tracker-troll, standing on the lawn in front of their house, let out a low, guttural growl. He raised his drooling snout, flawlessly pinpointing the source of the magic, and confidently pointed a long, clawed finger straight at the front door.

"Here?" Knut lumbered heavily over the decorative fence and stepped right up to the door, pressing his ear against it, listening to the tense silence inside the house.

The troll sniffed the air loudly once more, inhaling the scent of two fairies, and nodded excitedly.

"How are we supposed to do this like the locals? Knock politely?" Knut sneered, baring his yellowed fangs. He took a step back and slammed his massive shoulder into the door with all his might.

At that moment, the night's silence was shattered by the deafening crack of splintering wood and tearing metal. The front door, unable to withstand the monstrous force, was ripped from its hinges and crashed inside the house with a thunderous boom, kicking up a thick cloud of dust in the hallway.

The monstrous crash from the first floor echoed through the entire house, rattling the windowpanes. Dominique, who had just begun to drift into an uneasy sleep, snapped her eyes open. For a few seconds, she lay perfectly still, listening frantically to the darkness, trying to understand what was happening. Was that crash real, or had she just dreamed up some nightmare?

From downstairs came the sound of shattering glass, breaking wood, and the heavy thud of something massive that made the floor vibrate. Dominique jerked upright, got her foot tangled in the bedspread, and with a muffled curse, tumbled out of bed onto the floor, banging her knee painfully. Swearing under her breath, she kicked the blanket away, jumped to her feet, ran out into the hallway, and nearly collided nose-to-nose with Stella, who had shot out of the guest room like a bullet.

"It's coming from downstairs," Bloom breathed out tightly, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.

"I hear it. They found us," the princess's face grew taut. She squeezed the ring, which immediately elongated, transforming into her sparkling scepter. "Stay here, I'll deal with them."

And without waiting for any objections, Stella marched resolutely toward the stairs. Mid-stride, her body was engulfed in blinding golden light, and when the glow dissipated a second later, translucent wings fluttered behind her back, and her normal clothes had been replaced by the same orange crop top and shorts she had worn during the fight in the park.

Yeah, right, she'll deal with them, Dominique snorted internally, watching her go. If she barely managed to fend off half a dozen of those things out in the open, down there, in a cramped house, she won't even have the room to fly away.

Dominique shifted her weight hesitantly from foot to foot. Fear screamed at her to lock herself in the bathroom, but another terrifying crash and a guttural roar from downstairs seemed to wash away her last doubts, flipping a switch to cold logic. She had to help Stella. If the princess lost, Dominique would not only permanently sever her path to Alfea but also lose this house, these parents, who were an excellent fallback and cover identity just in case. Lose everything because of cowardice? Like hell she would. She pressed her lips into a tight line, clenched her fists, calling upon that internal heat, and ran downstairs after the fairy of the sun.

"Lock yourself in the bathroom and call the cops!" Mike commanded his wife, using the exact, tone-deaf-to-objections captain's voice he used on the job. "And don't you dare come out until I call for you. Got it?"

Vanessa, pale as a ghost, nodded in terror. She grabbed the cordless phone, locked the bathroom door, and began dialing 911 with trembling fingers.

While his wife followed orders, Mike rushed to the large steel safe hidden in the wall behind a painting. Without a single misstep, he punched in the combination and yanked the heavy door open. Inside lay an old but flawlessly maintained, well-oiled 12-gauge pump-action double-barrel shotgun. He grabbed the gun, cracked it open with a practiced motion, shoved two heavy red buckshot shells into the barrels, and snapped it shut with a satisfying click. From the wall right next to it, he tore down his ceremonial fire axe, awarded to him for saving a family from a burning mansion. Armed to the teeth, Mike stepped out into the hallway, walking straight into the unknown.

Dominique ran down the stairs and froze on the last step. The cozy living room looked like a hurricane had torn through it: overturned armchairs, shredded sofa upholstery, a smashed TV, and hovering in the middle of all this destruction was Stella. A tight half-circle of five drooling ghouls was already closing in on her. Knut the ogre, standing in the ruined doorway, noticed the redhead on the stairs and grinned in satisfaction.

"There's the second one. What do you say, little fairies, ready to play?" he rumbled.

"When will you ever leave me alone, you ugly brute!" Stella shrieked. "Solar Flare!"

She soared up to the ceiling, nearly clipping the chandelier, and unleashed a blinding beam. The blast of light slammed into the nearest monster, and it crumbled onto the carpet into a pile of black ash with a sickening squeal. The ogre roared in anger and swung his arm, commanding the attack. Three ghouls, ignoring Stella entirely, hissed vilely and lunged straight at Bloom.

Dominique threw her hands up in front of her, exactly as she had in the park. Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm. Okay, think. You can't spray a wide wave of fire like in the park—you'll burn the whole damn house down with us inside it. Precision strikes.

"Alright. Let's try this!" she whispered to herself, or rather, to the humming source of power inside her.

She extended her hands and concentrated. The stream of flame she unleashed wasn't a wide wave like in the park, but a narrow, furious jet, like a blowtorch. The stream roared, piercing straight through two ghouls running single-file, turning them to ash before they could even scream. A horrible stench of scorched fur and charred meat filled the air.

"You're on fire, Bloom!" Stella cheered from above, dodging another monster's leaping attack. "Just don't roast us, okay?!"

"I'll try!" Dominique yelled back, feeling a wild rush of adrenaline-fueled exhilaration that completely caught her off guard. This power... it was intoxicating.

The third ghoul, having miraculously avoided the flames, proved to be smarter. It nimbly leaped onto the wall, dug its claws into the wallpaper for a fraction of a second, leaving deep gouges, and pushed off like a coiled spring, launching itself straight at the red-haired fairy, aiming its claws right at her face.

"Shit!" Bloom flinched backward in surprise and, losing control, reflexively unleashed a short but massive blast of flame that fanned out in all directions.

The ghoul flew directly into the wall of fire mid-air. It incinerated in a split second, and Dominique coughed violently as a cloud of hot soot settled on her face and clothes.

"Bloom, close your eyes!" Stella yelled.

The princess slammed the butt of her scepter against the floor, and in that instant, an unbelievably bright, blinding flash flooded the living room. The monsters wailed pitifully, blinded by the light, and stumbled backward, covering their faces with their paws.

"Take that!" Stella aimed her staff at a disoriented ghoul. A beam of pure light punched straight through the creature and slammed directly into Vanessa's miraculously surviving coffee table. The table exploded into a thousand pieces from the impact of the magical energy, like a Lego set kicked apart.

"Oops! I'll pay for that!" Stella giggled guiltily.

Knut, standing in the doorway, realized the situation was spiraling out of control. His previously confident smirk slid off his face, replaced by panic. He grabbed the troll—who had been shifting its weight aimlessly nearby—by its massive shoulder and physically shoved the brute through the doorway.

"Go get the redhead! Now!" he pushed the monster forward.

The troll, whose intellect was clearly even lower than the ogre's, grumbled dumbly and began lumbering heavily toward Bloom.

"Bloom, run!" Stella screamed in panic from above. "Troll skin is immune to low-tier magic!"

"What?! Then what am I supposed to do?!" In desperation, Bloom unleashed a concentrated stream of fire right into the troll's chest.

The monster merely growled in annoyance, shielded its eyes from the bright light with a massive hand, and kept advancing on her as if walking against a strong wind. The fire only slightly singed its tough, gray skin. Bloom backed away toward the stairs in horror. She fired short, stinging bursts of flame, first from one hand, then the other, forcing the troll to slow down, but failing to stop it.

It's protecting its eyes! Dominique analyzed frantically. Which means it's not entirely invulnerable!

While the troll slowly backed Bloom into a corner, Stella dive-bombed lower, aiming her staff at the back of its head. But before she could fire a beam, a much more agile ghoul that had been hiding behind an armchair lunged and clamped its jaws in a death grip right around her ankle. With a piercing scream, the fairy lost her balance and crashed onto the glass-strewn floor.

"You little freak!" the Princess of Solaria shrieked in fury. She didn't bother using magic—instead, she twisted her body and kicked out with all her might with her free leg, driving the heel of her boot straight into the monster's glowing eye.

The beast howled in agony, releasing her leg. In the same instant, Stella threw her palm up, and a solar orb incinerated the monster point-blank. However, during the scuffle, she had dropped her scepter—it clattered against the floor and slid away. Knut, seeing this, roared with glee.

"Grab it! Grab the stick, you idiots!" he yelled, jabbing a fat finger at the glowing artifact lying on the floor.

Two ghouls instantly scrambled between Stella and the artifact.

"Like hell you will! I'll roast all of you without the ring!" Stella went absolutely feral. She sprang to her feet, threw her hands up, and a pulsating orb of pure, raw light instantly swelled between her palms.

Without losing a second, she hurled it with all her strength straight at the two ghouls, whose gnarled claws were already inches from the scepter.

The explosion was deafening. One creature, taking the brunt of the blast, was literally vaporized on the spot—not even ash remained. The second ghoul, shrieking hysterically, dropped the artifact and miraculously managed to leap aside, tumbling out of the wrecked living room and straight into the dark hallway.

And at that exact moment, Mike appeared from the other end of the hallway.

A heavy pump-action double-barrel shotgun was locked in a death grip in his strong hands, and his face, usually good-natured and calm, was now contorted into a terrifying mask of primal fury and resolve. Seeing the ugly beast that had jumped right into his path, he raised the gun to his shoulder without a second's hesitation.

BOOM!

The deafening gunshot in the confined space of the house battered their eardrums, silencing all the sounds of the battle for a split second. The blast of buckshot blew the ghoul away like a feather, plastering it against the hallway wall. Even the massive troll, which was inexorably bearing down on Bloom trying to corner her, froze. It blinked dumbly and slowly turned toward the unfamiliar, terrifying sound.

Mike, meanwhile, cracked the gun open with a practiced motion, chucked a fresh shell into the barrel, snapped the weapon shut with a dry click, and marched with long, rapid strides straight into the living room, heading directly for the troll.

The monster, sheer bewilderment written across its stupid snout, watched this tiny human walk right up to it.

"Don't you dare touch my daughter. Get the hell out of my house, you freak!" Mike's furious roar echoed through the ruined room.

The troll was still blinking in confusion. The situation simply didn't compute in its meager brain: it expected this fragile biped to walk right into striking distance of its heavy paw. But Mike stopped about six feet away from the towering mountain of muscle.

The barrels of the shotgun leveled directly at the monster's ugly face.

"Bloom, get down!" Mike barked.

Dominique, hearing her father's shout, didn't even waste a millisecond assessing the situation, immediately realizing what he was about to do. She dropped to the floor like a stone, wrapping her arms tightly around her head.

BOOM!

At such close range, the buckshot had the impact of a cannonball. It literally tore off the top half of the troll's lumpy head, turning it into a bloody mess. The rest of the pellets shrieked right through, riddling the living room ceiling and showering the room in a cloud of white plaster. The monster swayed on its thick legs, letting out a gurgling wheeze, and collapsed onto its back with a hollow thud, devoid of any signs of life.

Knut, who had been standing in the ruined doorway the entire time, froze, paralyzed by what he had just witnessed. His squad had melted away before his eyes in a matter of minutes. His tracker, his main trump card, had been killed in a single instant. The ogre swept a shell-shocked gaze around the living room. He looked at the two fairies, one of whom was hurling fire while the other had reclaimed her scepter. Then his gaze shifted to the enraged human, smoke drifting lazily from the barrel of his gun.

A very clear conclusion formed in the ogre's primitive brain—this was an absolute catastrophe. With a guttural curse, Knut frantically snatched a new amulet from his hip pouch, crushed it in his fist, and vanished in a flash of teleportation, leaving his last, cowering ghoul to the mercy of the victors.

A minute later, it was all over. Silence fell over the ruined living room; it smelled heavily of gunpowder and burnt flesh. Mike was breathing heavily, his hands tightly gripping the hot shotgun. Stella, having already reverted to her normal form, stared at him in unconcealed amazement. Dominique leaned against the wall, feeling her strength drain away. Vanessa stepped out of the hallway, trembling. She stopped, staring at the devastated living room, and slowly pressed a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God..."

"It's over," Mike said tiredly. "They're gone."

They stood in silence, looking at each other amidst the carnage. And at that moment, the silence was broken by the rising wail of police sirens, growing louder and turning from a distant hum into an urgent, approaching howl. Red and blue lights began dancing across the walls of the ruined living room, a stark warning that they only had minutes left.

Everyone froze in a state of shock. Mike was still gripping the shotgun, Vanessa was weeping silently in the doorway.

"Stella!" Dominique's sharp voice snapped everyone out of their stupor. "We need to hide the bodies!"

Stella flinched and nodded. She aimed her scepter at the massive corpse of the dead troll. A golden glow enveloped the monster, and it silently dissolved into a myriad of light particles that swirled in the air before fading away, leaving not even a stain behind. She quickly repeated the spell, and the remains of the ghouls met the same fate. The living room was still completely trashed, but the most important, inexplicable evidence was gone.

Mike, meanwhile, rushed to pick up the smoking shells from his double-barrel. His hands, accustomed to working in extreme conditions, moved quickly and precisely. He shoved the shells into his robe pocket and surveyed the room.

"Vanessa, don't touch anything!" Mike commanded. "Listen to me carefully!" he spoke in an authoritative tone, looking at the girls. "A bunch of junkies just broke into our house. About five, maybe six guys, all wearing masks. I heard the door get kicked in, told my wife to call the cops, and grabbed my gun. I fired a warning shot to scare them, and they ran. Bloom, Stella, you're scared to death and didn't really get a good look at anything, understood?"

Both girls nodded vigorously, and at that exact moment, the screech of brakes echoed right on their front lawn. Heavy car doors slammed shut, and the blinding beams of two flashlights cut through the ruined doorway.

"Gardenia Police! Drop the weapon! Keep your hands where we can see them!" a harsh command rang out from the darkness.

Mike slowly raised the cracked-open shotgun above his head, showing the empty chambers, and carefully laid it on the surviving edge of the overturned sofa.

"Weapon is unloaded, officers. I'm Mike Peters, the homeowner."

Two patrolmen entered the living room cautiously, keeping everyone at gunpoint. Seeing the uprooted door, the splintered furniture, and the terrified woman in tears, they lowered their pistols slightly, but didn't relax.

"What happened here, Mr. Peters? Are you injured? Is there anyone else in the house?"

"We're unhurt," Mike kept his hands raised. "This is my wife, my daughter, and her friend. We had already gone to bed when a gang broke into the house. Five or six guys. I didn't see their faces, it was dark and they were wearing hoodies... They smashed the door in with something heavy. I grabbed the shotgun from the safe and fired a shot into the ceiling to scare them off. They bolted back out to the street."

One of the officers shined his flashlight at the ceiling, highlighting the gaping holes from the buckshot, and then swept the beam over the charred pieces of wallpaper and the singed carpet.

"And what's this? A fire?"

"One of them had a Molotov cocktail or a flare," Mike lied confidently, without batting an eye. "When I fired, he dropped it in a panic. I managed to stomp the flames out before they reached the curtains. I work at the fire department, officer, I know how to handle fire."

The cop nodded. Given the homeowner's profession, it sounded more than logical. The second cop walked over to the girls. Dominique instantly flipped into perfect-actress mode: she wrapped her arms around herself, her lower lip trembled genuinely, and tears welled up in her eyes. Stella didn't even have to act much; after the brutal fight and the deafening shotgun blasts, she was shaking anyway, looking like a pale shadow of herself.

"Girls, did you get a look at the attackers?" the patrolman asked gently, putting his notepad away.

"N-no..." Dominique sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. "We were sleeping in my room... Then there was this horrible crash... Dad started yelling... We only came downstairs after the first gunshot. We were so scared."

"It's alright, Miss, you're safe now," the cop nodded sympathetically and stepped back to his partner.

The interrogations, the initial survey of the crime scene, and the paperwork took about an hour. The officers collected statements, silently admired the cold-blooded composure of the tough firefighter who had protected his family from a gang of thugs, and promised to send an investigator in the morning for a more detailed assessment.

"Mr. Peters, your door is beyond repair. We'll leave a patrol car stationed on your street until morning, but you'd be better off spending the night at a hotel or with relatives," the senior officer advised, heading for the exit.

"Thank you, officer. But we'll stay here, since you'll be close by."

"As you wish, sir. We'll go canvass the neighbors, see if anyone saw anything. We'll let you know if anything turns up."

After the cops left, the family stood in absolute silence amidst the wreckage for several minutes. The adrenaline ebbed away, replaced by the crushing realization of what had just happened. They had been attacked, right in their own home. And by some miracle, they had survived.

Mike slowly walked over to the spot where the troll had lain. He looked at the clean floor, then at his wife, who was crying with her hands pressed to her mouth. Then he shifted his gaze to Bloom, and then to her friend, the fairy princess. He saw the resolve in Stella's eyes, and a strange exhilaration in his daughter's. And he finally understood—he had lost. Not to the monsters, but to reality itself. He couldn't protect his daughter here. His house, his walls, his shotgun—all of it was useless against the world those things came from. To try would mean condemning them all to a repeat of this nightmare, one that might end very differently next time.

He looked at his wife, and she, reading everything in his eyes, gave a barely perceptible nod. The decision was made. Mike turned to the girls, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the weight of his choice.

"Tomorrow morning... you're leaving."

Vanessa, standing nearby, let out a soundless sob and, as if on autopilot, turned and walked into the kitchen. A moment later came the clinking of dishes and the sound of water filling the kettle. She was doing what she always did in moments of extreme stress—trying to create a tiny island of normalcy by brewing tea. Mostly for herself. Mike wiped a hand tiredly over his face and looked at Stella.

"Stella... this school of yours... is it expensive?"

The princess was taken aback by the question.

"Expensive? Um..." she was lost for a second. "I don't think so. For princesses, it's free anyway. And Bloom... well, she'll be my guest! We'll figure it out, don't worry!"

Mike merely nodded, not fully understanding, but noting the main point—it seemed they wouldn't have to pay.

"And what does she need to take with her? Some kind of uniform? Are regular clothes fine?"

At this, Stella couldn't suppress a grimace, remembering what Bloom's wardrobe looked like.

"Oh, we'll definitely figure something out for that," she assured him with forced enthusiasm. "The main thing is she has something for the first few days. Just the essentials."

Vanessa returned carrying a tray, her trembling hands balancing four cups of steaming chamomile tea. She handed one to Stella, another to Mike, and passed the third to Bloom, her fingers lingering on her daughter's hand for a fleeting moment.

"Drink, sweetie. It's calming."

The four of them sat amidst the ruined living room, holding their teacups. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the ticking of the old grandfather clock that had miraculously survived. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Vanessa looked at her daughter, trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing that tomorrow morning, her world would change forever. Mike stared into the void, replaying the battle in his head, realizing just how fragile their reality truly was. Stella thought about the upcoming journey, and the absolute sensation her new friend, with her incredible power, would cause.

That night, in the house on the quiet street of Gardenia, no one slept.

 

[VitahAR]

Morning at the Peters household began with frantic packing and nervous fuss. After the nightmare they'd survived, calmly going to bed as if nothing had happened was out of the question. For the rest of the night, Vanessa had been on autopilot, cleaning whatever was salvageable in the living room—sweeping up glass shards, plaster dust, and tearing down the hanging strips of scorched wallpaper. Meanwhile, Mike had dragged tools from the garage and haphazardly boarded up the doorway with sheets of old plywood. It looked crooked and ugly, but at least it covered the gaping hole leading to the street. After that, for the remainder of the night right up until dawn, Mike and Vanessa relentlessly grilled Stella about the place where their daughter was going to study for three long years.

And now, with the sun already up, Bloom stood in her room, leaning against the doorframe. With a wry smile on her face, she watched Vanessa repack the travel bag for the third time, trying to shove yet another sweater inside. Her mother was clearly using the packing as a way to keep her trembling hands busy.

"Sweetie, are you sure you have enough sweaters? What if it's cold there?" she looked doubtfully at the bulging bag. "Maybe take one more? That green one is warm..."

"Mom, it doesn't fit anymore," Dominique rolled her eyes, watching the process with poorly concealed irritation.

Her new wardrobe was ridiculously simple—some graphic teen t-shirts, jeans with ripped knees, standard sneakers. In her past life, she wouldn't have even used these rags to mop the floor.

That's fine, she thought. At the first opportunity, all these rags are going in the trash. Just give me a little time to settle in, and I'll replace it all.

"Bloom, what about your underwear?" Vanessa suddenly panicked, freezing with another sweater in her hands. "Did you pack enough? I know it's a magical school, but you still have to do laundry!"

Woman, a whole herd of fairy-tale monsters stampeded through your living room yesterday, tearing everything to shreds, and you're worried about washing underwear? flashed through Dominique's mind.

"Mom!" She felt like she was going to explode any second. "I packed them! I packed everything!"

"What about socks? Warm socks? What if the castle is drafty..." the woman wouldn't let up, frantically digging through the dresser drawer.

"Vane— Mom," Dominique caught herself just in time, gritting her teeth to stop from blurting out the woman's first name, that's how much this endless fuss was getting to her. "You already asked about the socks. Twice."

"I just want to make sure you didn't forget anything!" Vanessa nervously rubbed the bridge of her nose and exhaled heavily. "This is your first time being so far from home..."

She dropped her hands, looking completely exhausted. Dominique, looking at her tense shoulders, suddenly felt a slight prick of pity. Suppressing her irritation, she pushed off the doorframe, stepped closer, and awkwardly patted her mother on the shoulder.

"Everything is going to be fine. I'm a big girl now, I have this power of mine, and I'll have Stella with me. Don't worry so much."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to... I'm just worried," Vanessa whispered.

Dominique sighed silently. This woman genuinely, truly worried about her daughter. If Dominique had had children of her own in her past life, maybe she could have fully understood her. But up until her ridiculous death, she had remained completely childless, and all this overprotectiveness from Vanessa only caused her dull irritation.

"I can handle this, trust me," Dominique added, trying to inject maximum confidence into her voice.

Vanessa hugged her tightly, desperately burying her face in the red hair.

"I know, sunshine. You're our strong girl."

At that moment, the door pushed open wider, and Mike walked into the room. He looked like he had aged a good ten years, with deep dark circles under his eyes.

"Alright, ladies. Enough tears. Bloom is going off to school, not to war," his voice sounded slightly hoarse. He tried to offer an encouraging smile, but it came out crooked and strained. "Right, kiddo?"

"Right, Dad," Dominique nodded, appreciating his attempt to defuse the situation.

"Great." Mike walked over to the bed and lifted the travel bag by its handles, testing the weight. "Hmm, a bit heavy. Vanessa, did you pack bricks in here for self-defense?"

"Very funny," his wife snorted, wiping her eyes, though she managed a faint smile.

Mike slung the strap of the heavy bag over his broad shoulder, and the three of them went downstairs to the first floor. Stella, who had been tactfully waiting for them at the bottom, stepped forward.

"Well? Ready for a little trip?" she asked with a bright, encouraging smile.

"Ready," Bloom nodded, mentally hurrying Stella to open the portal already. She was thoroughly fed up with all this sentimental mush.

"Sweetie, did you grab your phone?" Vanessa practically jumped over to Bloom again, checking the zipper on the bag. "Will cell service even work there?"

"Mom," Dominique gently pushed her hands away. "I packed everything. And if I forgot something... worst case, I'll buy it there."

"Right! Money!" Vanessa grabbed her head. "You need money!"

She began frantically digging through her purse, trying to pull out her wallet.

"Mom, wait!" Dominique caught her hand. "I highly doubt they accept dollars where we're going. Right, Stella?"

"Huh?" The princess looked up from admiring her ring. "Oh, right, they use credits in Magix. Your Earth money won't work there."

"But... but how is she going to..." Vanessa trailed off, confused.

"Don't worry!" Stella waved her hand. "If Bloom needs anything, I'd be happy to cover all her expenses. Clothes, books, cute little knickknacks—whatever!"

"That doesn't seem right," Vanessa hesitated. "We can't let you spend your money on her..."

"What do you mean it doesn't seem right?" Stella planted her hands on her hips in indignation. "Bloom saved my life! I owe her a debt I can never repay!"

She stepped closer and conspiratorially lowered her voice:

"Besides, don't forget—I'm the Princess of Solaria. I have more money than..." she waved her hand dismissively, "...I know what to do with. So don't stress over these little details."

Stella straightened up and smiled.

"You'd better prepare yourselves mentally, because we are about to head to the very center of the Magical Dimension. And it is..." she paused meaningfully, "...an unforgettable sight."

Mike and Vanessa exchanged a look. A mix of curiosity, anxiety, and reverent awe could be seen in their eyes. Stella raised her hand, and her ring flared with bright light. She made a smooth gesture in the air, and at that very moment, the space in front of her rippled. The air shivered, distorting, and then reality parted like a curtain, revealing a shining vortex behind it.

Mike whistled.

"Wow..."

"Is that... is that a real portal?" Vanessa whispered. "To another world?"

"Exactly," Stella nodded. "Follow me!"

Without hesitating for a second, she stepped into the radiance and vanished, as if dissolving into the light. Dominique forced Bloom's body to follow her. She took a step forward and plunged into the vortex. The transition was rather strange. Not unpleasant, but unusual. For a split second, there was a sensation of weightlessness, a slight tingling on the skin, and then a flash of light in front of her eyes, and suddenly there was solid ground beneath her feet.

She took a step forward and froze. They were standing on a courtyard paved with pink stone. Not ordinary pink, but iridescent, with a faint inner glow; every tile was perfectly fitted to the next. The air was different—incredibly clean, fresh, and saturated with the scents of unfamiliar flowers, which made her head spin slightly after the Earth's smog and exhaust fumes.

Dominique looked up. The sky was a piercing blue, without a single cloud, a shade she had never seen on Earth. High above, flocks of birds with iridescent wings, much like hummingbirds, flew by. And alongside them were several small, elegant flying ships that resembled Earth's space shuttles. They glided smoothly through the air, leaving glowing trails in their wake.

Below, as far as the eye could see, stretched a valley of incredible beauty. Emerald-green meadows sprinkled with flowers of every hue; a forest with trees as massive as baobabs yet distinctly coniferous; a river sparkling in the sun like molten crystal. And in the distance, perched on a hill, stood a castle. Alfea.

It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Tall, graceful towers with spires reaching for the sky. Walls made of white stone that shimmered with pink and gold. Enormous stained-glass windows reflecting the sunlight. Bridges connecting the towers. Gardens surrounding the castle itself.

"My God..." Vanessa breathed out behind her.

Dominique turned around. Behind them, holding hands and stumbling slightly, Mike and Vanessa stepped out of the portal. They froze, mouths agape, staring at the panorama unfolding before them.

"Is this... is this real?" Mike whispered. "Am I dreaming?"

"You can pinch yourself," Stella offered with a smirk. "But yes, it's real. Welcome to Magix, the center of the Magical Dimension!"

Vanessa turned on the spot slowly, trying to take in everything at once.

"And that is Alfea!" Stella nodded toward the castle.

"It's more beautiful than I could have ever imagined... so much more beautiful..."

A group of girls walked past them, chatting cheerfully. One of them—a tall brunette—noticed Stella and waved.

"Hey, Stella! You're finally back!"

"Hi, Amelia!" Stella called back. "See you soon!"

The girls walked by, resuming their conversation about some guy named Sky from Red Fountain. Mike watched them go.

"Those... are they fairies? Real fairies?"

"Yep, second-year students," Stella nodded, moving forward. "This way," she called out, leading them down a path toward the main gates of the castle.

They walked down the path, Mike and Vanessa still craning their necks like kids at Disneyland.

"Look, look!" Vanessa tugged on her husband's sleeve. "Those flowers... they're glowing!"

Indeed, flowers with translucent petals that shimmered softly from within grew along the edges of the path.

"And over there!" Mike pointed to a fountain they were passing. "The water is flowing... upwards?!"

Stella turned around and chuckled.

"It's a magical fountain. Created by a water fairy a couple of centuries ago. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Beautiful is an understatement," Vanessa breathed out.

Dominique herself was looking around just as actively, even if she didn't express her amazement quite so enthusiastically. Although she had seen Magix in the cartoon, it had to be said that the drawings conveyed not even a hundredth of the wonders she was witnessing in person. It was like stepping into an entirely different reality. Which, essentially, was the truth.

Finally, they reached a massive wrought-iron archway—the main gates of Alfea. The metal was decorated with intricate patterns depicting fairies, dragons, and stars. The gates themselves were open, but Dominique noticed something her parents had missed: the air in front of the archway was faintly shimmering, as if an invisible veil hung in the passageway.

"It's a barrier," Stella explained, catching her gaze. "It only lets magical creatures through. Humans without abilities can't enter."

She looked at Mike and Vanessa.

"I'm sorry. But you won't be able to go past this point."

Vanessa paled and bit her lip. Mike clenched his jaw.

"So... we can't even go inside?" Vanessa asked quietly.

"School rules," Stella spread her hands. "But you can say your goodbyes here."

Mike took a deep breath and stepped toward his daughter.

Thump.

He walked right into an invisible wall. It was hard like glass, yet warm to the touch. His palm pressed against the barrier, and it glowed faintly at the point of contact. Vanessa walked over and also pressed her palms against the invisible obstacle. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Sweetie..." her voice trembled. "Be careful," Vanessa whispered. "Please. Call us, or write to us if you can. If they have mail here... or... or anything else..."

Dominique stood on the other side of the barrier and looked at the woman. At the tears streaming down her cheeks, at her trembling lips.

Good Lord, enough already. How long can someone cry? she thought irritably. Outwardly, however, she offered a touching smile and nodded silently.

"Don't worry so much, there are phones in Alfea," Stella chimed in. "Bloom will be able to call you every single day if she wants."

Mike placed a hand on his wife's shoulder; his voice was hoarse from holding back his emotions.

"Bloom," he looked his daughter straight in the eyes. "Listen to Stella. Do well in your studies, be a good girl, and become strong, you hear me?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"We... we're proud of you, kiddo. Always have been. And we always will be, no matter what happens."

He tried to smile.

"And when you come home for the holidays, you'll tell us everything. About the magic, the school, your friends. Deal?"

"Deal," Dominique nodded.

Stella stepped behind the barrier and raised her ring. At that exact moment, another portal opened in the air behind Mike and Vanessa. Through it, they could see their living room on Earth, with its boarded-up door and smashed furniture.

"I'm sorry, but it's time for you to go," she said respectfully.

The parents cast one last look at their daughter—full of love, pride, and pain—and stepped into the portal. The vortex snapped shut behind them with a quiet pop, leaving silence in its wake. Stella walked over to Bloom and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly. "I know it's not easy. Parting with your parents is always tough. But trust me, you're going to love it here."

She smiled a warm, friendly smile.

"You'll have friends, magic, adventures. You'll learn incredible things. And you can always go home for the holidays and amaze your parents with your abilities."

Dominique looked at her. Stella was being sincere. She really wanted to cheer her up.

"Thanks," Dominique said. "I'll try."

Stella dusted off her skirt and gave Bloom a sly look.

"So, ready to start a new life?" she winked playfully. "By the way... Bloom, sorry I didn't mention this earlier, I didn't want to bring it up in front of your parents so they wouldn't worry. But... you're going to have to... just for a little while, Bloom... become someone else."

"Excuse me?" Dominique was utterly floored by those words. "What do you mean 'become someone else'?"

"Oh, it's simple!" Stella waved her hand carelessly. "I have a plan to sneak you into the school. When they ask, just tell them you're Varanda. Princess Varanda of Callisto, and that's it. I'll handle all the rest."

Wait a second, flashed through Dominique's mind as she frantically spun through the cartoon's plot. Right, there was a similar moment, Bloom had to pretend. But that was a stupid cartoon featuring two brainless chicks who, instead of properly explaining the situation to the headmistress, spun up some ridiculous conspiracy out of thin air.

"Stella," Dominique began insinuatingly, with barely detectable notes of irritation, taking a slow step toward the princess. "Am I missing something here?"

"Oh, come on, it's just a tiny formality..." Stella started waving it off, pulling a carefree smile onto her face.

"Stella," Bloom cut her off, her voice growing colder. "Didn't you say that with my power, getting admitted wouldn't be a problem? The headmasters were going to be 'fighting over me,' wasn't that it?"

Dominique had a very strong urge to smack this idiot upside her blonde head. Madame Lefevre very, very much disliked being informed of changes to a plan at the last minute, or when a plan had to be altered on the fly. And from the looks of it, that was exactly what was happening right now, a double whammy at that.

"Look, you can't just stroll into Alfea," Stella babbled quickly, realizing her cheerful tone was inappropriate. "This is where the heiresses of magical families study. They don't just accept any random person off the street. If you had applied at least two months before the school year started, there wouldn't be an issue. But now, when the rosters are already finalized, if we walk in and say you're just Bloom, a fairy from Earth, they'll grill us with questions, summon the entire board of directors, and most likely send you packing. This would be easily solved if you were a princess, but you have no documents, no family lineage, nothing like that."

Dominique crossed her arms over her chest, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

"So, I won't get in legally. Great. Then maybe I just shouldn't go to Alfea? Is it the only school in the universe? You yourself said yesterday that there's some Beta Academy, didn't you?"

"Beta?!" Stella's eyes went wide with genuine horror. "Are you kidding? Beta is just 'ew', Bloom! It doesn't even come close to Alfea. The only girls who go there are the losers who have absolutely zero chance of getting in with us. And also... they'll make you wear an absolutely hideous uniform, believe me."

Dominique sighed heavily, massaging her temples.

"A hideous uniform and the fact that it's 'ew'—are those all of its downsides, or are there others?"

"There's one more, and it's the biggest one," Stella grimaced in disgust. "Beta Academy is located on Eraklyon."

"And?" Dominique didn't follow.

"What do you mean 'and'?! It's the planet Eraklyon, and I'm the Princess of Solaria! The relationship between our worlds right now is, to put it mildly... a bit strained, just so you know. And it's all Erendor's fault, by the way," Stella stated authoritatively, sticking her nose in the air. "He's the King of Eraklyon, for the record."

"And because of that, I shouldn't go to Beta?" Dominique clarified with a wry smirk, completely failing to see how the geopolitical squabbles of two kings she didn't even know should impact her education.

Stella sighed, realizing that arguments about fashion and politics weren't working on this weird Earth girl.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell it like it is... You'd run into the exact same problem there. Even though Beta is considered a second-tier school, the competition is even fiercer because everyone and their mother applies there. All the spots have been filled for a long time. I can sneak you into Alfea because I know Varanda, and it just so happens she changed her mind about attending and asked me to inform the school. I can just not tell them, and you can take her spot. But on Eraklyon, I have absolutely zero leverage. You'd have zero chance there."

Dominique winced internally. In the past, there was no door that wouldn't open for her. Now, she was forced to pretend, to play Stella's stupid game just to get into some school. It was humiliating.

"Alright, fine. Let's say I agree. How exactly do you propose we pull this off?" her voice dripped with blatant sarcasm. "Am I supposed to say, 'Hello, I am Princess Varanda. Ignore the appearance, I just went through a major growth spurt over the summer,' is that it?"

Stella thought for a second, then stifled a giggle in her fist, clearly picturing the scenario. But, noticing her friend's increasingly irritated glare, she immediately sobered up. The princess's eyes flashed with a mysterious fire.

"Don't worry. Varanda has never actually been to Alfea."

"Well, suppose that's true," Dominique nodded, chewing on the information. "Even if she's never been here. You really think if I call myself this... Varanda, no one is going to double-check?"

Sometimes I think Stella acts like a decent manipulator, and other times her naivety is just astounding, Dominique thought.

"Well..." Stella paused for a moment to think. "Let's just hope they don't dig too deep. I will personally vouch that you're my friend Varanda. They know me, so why would they verify you if I'm confirming your identity?"

Dominique's first instinct was to turn around and walk away. This entire plan was held together by such flimsy threads it was laughable. Any basic background check would expose them instantly. Her second instinct was to ditch Stella's idiotic plan entirely and march straight to the administration to announce herself. However, Stella's warning that admissions were closed and she would likely be sent home with a "we'll see you next year" smothered that impulse too. Waiting a year was a luxury she couldn't afford. The only option left was to take the risk, and hope that, just like in that stupid cartoon, this nonsense would somehow slide and she wouldn't be unceremoniously booted from the school and blacklisted.

"Bloom. Bloom!" Stella waved a hand in front of her face. "What are you thinking about? My genius plan?"

"Yeah," Bloom sighed heavily. I could tell you exactly where your 'genius' plan belongs, but expressing myself like that would be in poor taste. "Alright, let's go. Come what may."

Stella exhaled with relief, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of such a wonderful adventure.

"Excellent!" she said in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. "Now fix your hair, smile, and try to look like a princess. Our first line of defense awaits. And her name is Griselda."

They walked down the wide alley toward the main entrance of the castle. And the more Dominique studied the place, the more she realized that this wasn't just a school—it was a fully-fledged fortress. The walls of smooth, seamless stone reached high into the sky. The narrow windows resembled arrow slits, and the castle's very placement atop a hill gave it a perfect vantage point and control over the surrounding territory.

They entered a massive, echoing hall. Their footsteps rang out beneath the high vaulted ceilings. And there, in the middle of the hall, a woman who looked as if she were carved from granite was already waiting for them. Tall, with short gray hair, a stern face, and elegant glasses perched on her nose. Her posture betrayed flawless military bearing, and the uniform she wore looked more like an officer's tunic than an educator's attire. This, apparently, was Griselda.

"Princess Stella," the woman's voice was sharp and devoid of any warmth. "We did not expect you so early. The school year hasn't begun yet."

Stella immediately slipped on her best mask of a capricious princess.

"Madame Griselda, what a joy to see you! Circumstances dictated that we had to arrive early. Please allow me to introduce my dear friend, Her Highness Princess Varanda of the planet Callisto."

Griselda shifted her piercing gaze to "Varanda." Dominique met her gaze dead-on, without a shadow of fear. She had seen women like this working as heads of security, and she knew exactly how to deal with them. Griselda looked Bloom up and down and seemingly didn't believe a single word Stella said. But instead of challenging the cover story, she delivered her verbal strike elsewhere.

"I sincerely hope, Stella, that these mysterious 'circumstances' of yours do not involve another explosion in the potion-making laboratory, like last year?" Griselda inquired in an icy tone, clasping her hands behind her back. "Your readmission after such an, to put it mildly, egregious incident is an act of exceptional and, in my opinion, completely unjustified kindness on the part of Headmistress Faragonda."

"How could you even think such a thing, Madame Griselda!" Stella feigned outrage dramatically, pressing a delicate hand to her chest. "I am a proper student, and that time... That time was just an unfortunate, tiny accident!"

"That 'tiny accident' vaporized half the classroom," the woman stated ruthlessly. "A remarkable achievement for a girl who so stubbornly fails to submit a single basic essay on time."

Stella pouted, her eyes flashing with anger.

"I already apologized, Madame! Besides, my father fully compensated the school for all material damages..."

"Alfea is an academy of high magic, Stella, not a boutique on your home planet of Solaria where Daddy can just buy you a passing grade," Griselda cut her off, blatant disdain for spoiled aristocrats slipping into her voice. "Here, I demand discipline, self-control, and respect for the rules from the students. And your royal status will not shield you from serving detentions for your antics. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal, Madame," Stella gritted through her teeth.

Ah. So money and titles don't solve everything around here, Dominique made a mental note, observing the spat. The local head of security is incorruptible, strict, and clearly dislikes spoiled brats. Duly noted.

Having reprimanded the Princess of Solaria, Griselda turned back to Dominique.

"Right then. Now back to you... Princess Varanda," Griselda pronounced the title with a light, barely perceptible irony, once again looking her worn Earth sneakers and t-shirt up and down. "There must be a severe economic crisis raging on Callisto right now if this is what their royal family considers appropriate travel attire for the heir to the throne?"

"I... just decided to stay connected to the common people," Dominique blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

The moment she said it out loud, she realized how utterly ridiculous it sounded. Stella let out a sound that she heroically tried to disguise as a cough. Fortunately, Griselda paid her no mind, continuing to bore her gaze into the redheaded princess.

"A commendable, if rather extravagant, aspiration for someone of royal blood," she remarked. "However, I must remind you, Princess, that within the walls of Alfea you are obliged to observe at least a minimal aesthetic dress code."

"Of course, Madame," Dominique plastered a mask of politeness onto her face. "My luggage will arrive any day now. These are just my essentials for the meantime." She patted the bag filled with her household junk.

"Very well, I shall count on your conscientiousness..." Griselda drawled thoughtfully. She snapped her fingers, and a scroll materialized in front of her, which she quickly scanned. "Princess Varanda."

She rolled up the list and looked sternly at the girl.

"Since it is your first time here, you must memorize these rules: No magic in the hallways, lights out at ten, visits to the city of Magix only on weekends or with my personal permission. And one more thing..." her voice hardened, "...stay away from the witches of Cloud Tower. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Madame Griselda," the girls answered in unison.

"Your room is 207, East Wing. You may go."

They turned and walked away down the long corridor, feeling Griselda's scorching gaze on their backs.

"That woman is an ice block," Stella hissed as soon as they were a safe distance away. "She's the head of the disciplinary committee. And our biggest headache."

"What about the witches? Does she know about your run-in with them?" Dominique asked.

"Doubt it. She tells everyone to steer clear of Cloud Tower witches. She gave me the exact same speech last year," Stella explained as they walked. "We don't exactly get along with them, to put it mildly."

"Yeah, very mildly," Bloom smirked wryly, recalling the wreckage at her parents' house.

"Pfft, you haven't seen anything yet..." Stella snorted mockingly. "Oh, right, by the way, there's also Red Fountain. It's an academy for guys. They train to be Specialists—they're elite warriors, bodyguards... basically soldiers..."

Dominique trailed behind, half-listening to Stella's endless chatter about local customs while actively looking around, curiously taking in her surroundings. The wide, brightly lit hallway they were walking through was framed by an endless succession of tall, smoothly curving yellow stone arches that reached all the way to the ceiling. And floating right beneath that ceiling were strange white crystals emitting a soft light. Stella, meanwhile, had changed the subject to some Solarian gossip—something about a scandal, about someone's wedding getting called off at the last minute for reasons Dominique had long since stopped tracking, occasionally tossing in a "uh-huh" at the right moments.

"...and that's when she told him, can you believe it? Right at the reception, in front of everyone!" Stella threw her hands up dramatically and stopped abruptly. "Well, here we are!"

She gestured gracefully to a heavy wooden door with a polished brass plaque that read 207.

"Here it is, our home for the next year," Stella said with a nervous smile and pushed the door open.

Meanwhile, in the Trix's room at Cloud Tower, a truly surreal scene was unfolding. The massive ogre was curled up in a ball on the floor, shielding his head with his hands, shaking like a leaf. At the same time, a fragile-looking girl with blue curls was ruthlessly kicking him with the toes of her boots.

"You! Useless! Trash!"

Every shout was punctuated by a dull thud against the ogre's hide.

"Where are my monsters?!" the witch shrieked. "Why did you crawl back alone again with your tail between your legs?!"

"Mistresses... We tried. But the fairies... they're too strong..."

He tucked his head even tighter into his shoulders, not daring to even glance at Stormy. The rage of the witch of storms was dangerous, but the silence of the other two sisters terrified him far more.

"Tried? You tried?!" Stormy brought her heel down hard on the ogre's shoulder blade once again. "You blew my best squad! For the second time in a row!"

Darcy, sitting cross-legged on the windowsill, had been studying the ogre the entire time with her trademark unreadable stare. She lazily twirled a strand of her long hair around a finger, her lips twitching into a thin, sarcastic smile.

"So, you're saying the 'fairy of fire' burned them all up?" she drawled, honeyed notes creeping into her voice that sent shivers down Knut's spine. "And yet you don't have a single scratch on you. Your vest isn't even dusty. How does that work, Knut?"

Darcy hopped off the windowsill and slowly walked closer.

"Exactly. How?!" Stormy froze, her eyes flashing with a wicked light. "Answer me, you piece of garbage! Do you really think we're that stupid?"

"I..." Knut tried to crawl backward, his claws scraping against the floor. "I just..."

"You just what?" Darcy leaned in right next to his ear. "Got scared and ran away? Or... maybe there was no fairy of fire at all, hmm?"

The temperature in the room dropped sharply. Icy, who had been standing motionless by the window, was the first to realize what her sister was implying. She slowly turned around, and her glacial eyes practically pinned the ogre to the spot.

"Seriously, Knut, just confess," Darcy drawled, her yellow eyes narrowing. "There was no redheaded fairy, was there?"

"No, Mistresses! The redhead is real! I swear!" Knut shook, feeling the cold piercing him to his very bones.

"Enough of your stupid excuses," Icy's freezing voice cut him off. The witch of ice walked slowly toward him. "Not. Another. Word. I don't want to hear about any redheaded fairy. You're lying to us, Knut."

Darcy began to slowly circle the ogre.

"What did the princess offer you?" she whispered in his ear. "Gold? Freedom? Or did you just decide that we weren't generous enough?"

"No, I didn't... I would never!" Knut gasped in terror. "You know me, Mistresses. I've always... always been loyal to you. Please, believe me..."

"Believe you? You lost two of my squads. You didn't get the ring. And now you're telling me fairy tales about a fairy of fire who took you all out single-handedly? Do you even hear how that sounds? And you're asking me to believe that? Couldn't you come up with anything more convincing?"

"But it's the truth, Mistresses..." the ogre whimpered.

Icy's jaw muscles twitched. There was no longer rage in her gaze, only endless, cold contempt.

"I am disappointed, Knut. How quickly you've forgotten my kindness. If it weren't for me, you'd still be swinging a pickaxe in the mines of Solaria."

"Mistress..." Knut curled into a tight ball. The memory of the mines, of the eternal cold and hunger from which Icy had pulled him to make him her servant, was the most terrifying thing in his life.

"Shut up. Get out of my sight," Icy turned away. "And don't you dare let me catch sight of you again."

"Mistress... I didn't betray you... I..."

"Get out!" Icy violently threw her hand up.

An invisible wave of icy air slammed into Knut's chest, lifted his massive body, and forcefully slammed it into the wall next to the door. The ogre groaned, slid to the floor, and limped toward the exit. He carefully closed the door behind him, casting a hurt glance at Icy, and left the sisters in silence. Stormy stomped her foot angrily as the door shut behind the ogre.

"We're just going to let him go?!"

"Leave him," Icy snapped coldly, sitting down on her bed. "He's terrified out of his mind. Whether he's a traitor or just a pathetic coward doesn't matter right now. What matters is that we still don't have the ring."

"Then maybe we should fly down to this planet ourselves?" Stormy clenched her fists eagerly. "See what's what. If Stella is there..."

"Do you really think Stella is still sitting there waiting for you to grace her with your presence?" Darcy returned to the mirror, touching up her makeup. "She's a princess, not an idiot."

"So what do you suggest? We just sit and wait?!"

"That is exactly what I'm suggesting," Darcy smiled at her reflection. "Classes start in a week. Stella will definitely head back to Alfea. And we'll be waiting for her."

 

[VitahAR]

Stella pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. The first thing that immediately caught the eye was the sheer size. The room was big. Very big. It looked more like a luxury suite in a high-end hotel than a standard multi-person student dorm.

In the center of the room sat a common area: a low coffee table surrounded by several plush armchairs and a small loveseat with thick, light-colored upholstery.

Along the right wall, three single beds were neatly lined up. Along the opposite, left wall—two more. At first glance, the layout seemed asymmetrical, but there was a simple explanation: in the exact spot where a sixth bed logically should have been, there was an inner door. Next to each bed stood a personal nightstand and a tall, double-door wardrobe. All the furniture in the room was crafted from smooth, light wood covered in intricate, embossed patterns. Two massive panoramic windows, taking up almost the entire far wall, offered a great view of the Alfea courtyard and let in a maximum amount of sunlight.

The moment the front door clicked shut behind the girls, the cheerful mask instantly slid right off Stella's face. She carelessly kicked off her sandals and, with a loud groan, flopped onto the bed closest to the window, throwing her arms out wide.

"What a day..." she breathed out. "I just hope that icy hag Griselda doesn't dig too deep into our story."

Dominique let the complaint slide right past her ears. She walked slowly through the room, evaluating where to set up camp with the eye of a proprietor. Fortunately, they were the first ones here, so the choice was plentiful—assuming, of course, you didn't count the window bed Stella had already claimed.

Along the way, Dominique pushed open the door located where the sixth bed would have been and peeked inside. It was a spacious bathroom: light matte tiles, two wide sinks, a large mirror taking up half the wall, and a proper shower cabin. Dominique grunted in satisfaction. Having a bathroom right right here was a massive plus. Though, considering the number of beds, they would be sharing this space among five people. Madame Lefevre, who remembered the setup of the plot perfectly well, even had a pretty good guess as to exactly who would be moving in with them soon.

She closed the bathroom door and returned to the living area. After some thought, Dominique decided not to stray too far from the princess for now. Walking over to the adjacent bed, she tossed her heavy bag of Earth junk onto the bedspread. Then, the girl turned to the princess, who was still boring a hole into the ceiling with her gaze, and asked her question:

"So this Griselda... Who is she, exactly? I mean, what's her official position here?"

"Madam Griselda?" Stella snorted. "She's the Head of Discipline. Also the Vice-Headmistress, and Faragonda's right hand... Oh, and the ultimate terror of all the students, just to top it off. If Faragonda is the kind mother of Alfea, then Griselda is the strict aunt with a ruler. She makes sure all the rules are followed, punishes troublemakers, and generally makes everyone's life miserable."

"Sounds like a blast," Dominique noted dryly.

"You bet," Stella rolled her eyes. "Last year, she was the one who expelled me... Ugh, whatever, let's not talk about depressing things."

"Alright, then let's talk about Faragonda..." Bloom paused, picking her words. "She's the top boss here, right?"

"The very top," Stella nodded, her tone turning more serious. "The Headmistress of Alfea is one of the most powerful fairies in the Magical Dimension. It's best not to argue with her. Everyone respects her and is a little afraid of her. She's kind, but... how do I put this... she has this look, like she can see right through you. All your secrets, all your thoughts. It's a little creepy, honestly."

Stella trailed off and began absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger.

"You know, we got really lucky yesterday," she said quietly, staring at the jewelry. "If I had lost this ring..." she shivered. "I'm terrified to even think about it. My dad would have killed me. Well, not literally, of course, but... it would have been a catastrophe."

"Is that ring really that important?" Dominique asked with genuine curiosity. "I mean, you said the Trix were hunting for it, but... what exactly is it?"

The princess looked up from the ring and stared intently at Bloom.

"Do you actually want to know, or are you just being polite?"

"I actually want to know," Dominique maintained the expression of sincere curiosity on her face. "I'm a fairy now, right? I need to understand the world I've found myself in."

Stella twisted the ring thoughtfully on her finger, as if weighing a decision. Finally, she sat up, crossing her legs, and her face grew serious.

"It's not just a piece of jewelry, Bloom. It's the Ring of Solaria, and it's one of the oldest artifacts in the entire Magical Dimension."

She made a slight flick of her wrist, and the ring instantly transformed into the scepter Dominique had seen in the park.

"You see, magic comes in different forms," Stella continued, staring thoughtfully at the scepter. "There is a fairy's personal power, which is what you have inside you. And then there are artifacts. Some of them have been accumulating magical energy for centuries, holding so much power inside that an ordinary person would simply be blown to pieces trying to use it."

She twirled the scepter in her hands, and it turned back into a ring on her finger.

"The Ring of Solaria is one of those. It holds the solar energy of my home planet. That's exactly why the Trix are hunting it so desperately."

Stella traced a finger over the ring's setting.

"And, according to legend, it has a connection to the power of the Dragon Flame, but those are just old fairy tales... The main point is something else. Whoever wields the ring gets access to a massive source of energy."

"Like a battery?" Dominique clarified.

"Something like that," Stella nodded. "For witches, who are always looking for ways to boost their dark magic, it's like the Holy Grail."

Wow. An infinite battery, Dominique noted internally. And they entrusted this thing to a teenager. This world is even more insane than it seems.

"Got it. So you're a walking target," she stated. "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Well, you said it yourself—I'm the last fairy on Earth. Doesn't that make me... special? To those same witches, for example."

Stella suddenly snorted, then let out a quiet laugh.

"Special? Well, girl, you definitely don't suffer from false modesty. Your power is rare, yes, but it's not exactly... 'special'." She made air quotes with a smile. "You see, Bloom, fairies are usually about creation. Nature, light, water, life, things like that. We draw our power from the harmony of the world around us. But fire..." she shook her head slightly. "Fire is an element of destruction. Fire fairies are extremely rare even in Magix, because it's very hard to control an element like that without burning everything around you to the ground. Fire is an element more commonly wielded by witches or mages."

Stella wagged a finger at her meaningfully:

"So you need to be very careful with that little spark of yours. Try not to repeat my exploits from last year, Bloom. Especially since you don't have a king for a dad to call Faragonda and smooth things over."

Dominique grunted thoughtfully.

"And what exactly were these exploits? It felt like Griselda wanted to eat you alive the moment she saw you."

Stella rolled her eyes and leaned back against her pillow with exaggerated suffering.

"Well, if we're being completely honest... There was a tiny explosion in the potions lab. Just a little one."

"How little?"

"Well..." Stella stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "The reconstruction work took about two weeks. But it wasn't my fault! Professor Palladium gave incredibly vague instructions, I mixed up the proportions just a tiny bit, and..."

"And?" Dominique urged.

"And BOOM!" Stella threw her arms wide, choking back a laugh. "I was expelled the very next day. My dad was furious, my mom was in shock..."

Dominique couldn't help but smirk. There was a certain undeniable charisma in this girl's sheer carelessness.

At that exact moment, in her austere, impeccably organized office, Madam Griselda was leaning over a magical registry terminal, the names of all the aristocratic houses of the Magical Dimension flickering across the screen. She typed in a query: "Princess Varanda, Callisto." The personal file instantly popped up: coat of arms, lineage, list of basic magical talents. And, of course, the official holographic portrait—a pale, aristocratic girl with long dark hair and delicate features. Griselda froze for a fraction of a second. Her sharp eyes compared the image on the screen with the mental image of the redheaded, freckled girl Stella had brought with her. The mismatch wasn't just obvious; it was glaring. Griselda's face turned to stone, her lips pressing into a thin line. In silence, she activated another device—a secure interplanetary communication channel.

"Royal Court of Callisto? This is the Head of Discipline at Alfea," her voice was flawlessly polite. "I am calling to confirm the safe arrival of Her Highness Princess Varanda at our school."

A confused voice of a court secretary answered on the other end.

"I beg your pardon, Madam?... Arrival? But... Her Highness is currently in her residence."

Griselda gave a quiet hum.

"I see. There must have been a mistake. Could you clarify, did the princess leave the palace today?"

"No, Madam," the secretary's voice betrayed genuine bewilderment. "She hasn't left the palace in several days. May I ask what this is about?"

"No. Thank you for your time." Griselda cut the connection.

For a few seconds, she sat motionless. Everything was confirmed. It wasn't a mistake; it was a brazen lie. She stood up, smoothed out her uniform, which fit her like a glove, and headed to the highest tower of the castle. To the Headmistress's office.

She entered the moment she heard the permission following her knock. Headmistress Faragonda was sitting in her chair with her back to the door, observing something in a large crystal ball.

"Headmistress Faragonda, reporting," Griselda barked out crisply. "Princess Stella just snuck an impostor into Alfea under the name of Princess Varanda of Callisto. I received personal confirmation from the Callisto court that the real princess is at home."

Faragonda chuckled quietly, not even bothering to turn around.

"I know, Griselda."

The Head of Discipline was momentarily taken aback.

"You know?"

"Yes," the Headmistress finally, slowly turned in her chair. Her face was perfectly serene, and sly sparks danced in her eyes. "The power that girl possesses is impressive. I felt her arrival the moment they crossed the barrier."

She smiled her enigmatic, all-knowing smile—the kind that sent a chill down Griselda's spine.

"Leave things as they are. Enroll her as Varanda of Callisto. Yes, let it be so."

"But, Headmistress... this is a gross violation of the charter!" Griselda protested. "We don't know who she is! What if she's dangerous?"

"She is dangerous," Faragonda agreed. Her glasses glinted. "I felt her power when she passed through the barrier. Her flame... I haven't felt such heat in a very long time, Griselda."

Griselda froze, her mouth slightly open.

"Flame?..."

"Exactly," Faragonda nodded. "You know, Griselda, sometimes, to see the whole picture, you have to let the artist make a few strokes first. If we kick her out now, we lose her forever. And the world... the world is changing. I'm afraid we will soon need all the power we can find."

She looked up at her deputy, her smile widening just a fraction.

"Keep an eye on her, Griselda. Report her every move to me. Especially any manifestations of her power. You are dismissed."

Griselda gave a silent nod and walked out of the office in a state of utter turmoil. Faragonda turned back to her crystal ball, which now showed two girls in Room 207 arranging their meager belongings on the shelves.

"Well then... Welcome to Alfea... Bloom," she whispered softly.

Dominique woke up to the rhythmic sound of running water coming from behind the bathroom door. Sunlight, unusually bright, flooded the room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She stretched, feeling a satisfying pop in her joints, and sat up in bed. Acting on a habit honed over decades, she smoothed out the sheets and pulled the bedspread over them. At that moment, the bathroom door swung open, releasing a cloud of steam and Stella. The princess, wrapped in a fluffy towel, was drying her damp hair.

"Good morning..." Stella cast a glance at the window, where broad daylight was pouring in. "Or afternoon, really."

"Yeah. Morning," Bloom walked over to her wardrobe and began digging through her things, fishing out a towel and a fresh set of underwear.

"So? How'd you sleep in your new bed?" Stella sat on the edge of her bed, still fussing with her hair.

Dominique paused for a second, listening to her own body. She felt light, and her mind was unusually clear.

Rested. For the first time in God knows how long, she noted to herself.

Maybe it was because the mattress was genuinely comfortable, or maybe it was the strange relief she felt upon leaving Gardenia. At home, surrounded by Mike and Vanessa, she had to filter every thought, every word, just to avoid breaking the illusion of their "little Bloom." It was more exhausting than any corporate negotiation. Here, in Alfea, no one knew her. The role of Princess Varanda was just another mask, but behind it, she could afford far more freedom than in her old house, where every dog on the street had known her for sixteen years.

"You know... Great, actually," Dominique smiled, and this time, the smile was entirely genuine.

"Wow, someone's in a good mood?" Stella raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"And it'll get even better after a shower and some breakfast. Where do you guys eat around here?"

"In the cafeteria. But we already slept through it."

Dominique froze with the towel in her hands and slowly turned to her friend.

"Seriously? My mood just dropped a couple of points. What time is it?"

Stella laughed and threw her hands up, completely unfazed by her tone.

"Ten o'clock. I figured I wouldn't wake you. I hate being woken up myself."

"Oh? A sore subject?" Bloom narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at the princess.

"Heh, you have no idea! But at least now nobody can say I sleep in late."

"Don't get your hopes up. This was a one-time promotion," Dominique returned the smirk and, grabbing her things, headed for the bathroom. Right at the door, she turned back. "I'm going to take a shower, and then you're taking me to the library, okay?"

"What for?" Stella's eyes went wide, and she even stopped drying her hair. "I thought we were going to Magix!"

"Stella, Magix can wait," came her voice from behind the half-closed door as Bloom slipped inside. "I want to get a basic grasp on all this magic stuff first. And then we'll hit the town, deal?"

The water turned on behind the door. Dominique tipped her face under the hot streams, closing her eyes. The hot water cascaded noisily over her shoulders, driving the last remnants of sleep from her head. She pressed her palms against the cool tiles, breathing heavily in the thick, humid steam. Opening her eyes, she looked at her hands. Through the haze of steam, her skin looked almost translucent. Not a single blemish, not a single wrinkle or scar. This body was like a blank canvas on which life hadn't yet had time to write a single thing.

She grabbed a bottle of shower gel from the shelf. A smiling strawberry decorated the label. The moment she popped the cap, a sickeningly sweet berry scent filled the bathroom. Dominique grimaced but squeezed a little onto her palm. Thoroughly washing away the suds, she listened to the muffled rustling beyond the door. Stella was out there moving around—noisy, chaotic, and completely unpredictable. But she was her only ticket into this world, and Dominique understood that, for now, she had to play by this girl's rules.

She turned off the water. In the ensuing silence, the only sound was the occasional drop falling from the faucet and shattering against the floor with a hollow echo. Dominique stepped out of the stall, feeling her steamed skin instantly react to the cool air of the room. The mirror above the sink was completely fogged over. She swiped a hand across it, clearing the condensation, and froze for a second, looking at the face that appeared. Her red hair, darkened by the water, clung to her shoulders; huge eyes stared back from the mirror with an icy, intense focus that the real Bloom likely never possessed.

Dominique walked out of the bathroom, drying her head with a towel. Stella had already managed to get dressed and was now lounging on her bed, hugging a datapad. A goofy smile played on her lips, and judging by the audio, she was watching some comedy series. Bloom went to the wardrobe and fished out her most normal jeans and a simple blouse. Stella tore her eyes from the screen and gave her a look dripping with undisguised skepticism.

"Still trying to blend in with the peasants, huh?" Stella snorted into her fist, choking back a laugh.

"Yup," Dominique grunted darkly, buttoning her waistband.

"Listen, Griselda might have bought it the first time, but it's best not to tease her unnecessarily," Stella sat up, her ear-to-ear grin remaining. "You look, to put it mildly, not very royal."

Bloom pressed her lips together and looked at her meager wardrobe as if she wanted to incinerate it on the spot, along with the wardrobe itself.

"I don't have anything else," she snapped.

"The bus to Magix runs every two hours. Or I can open a portal if you're too lazy to wait," Stella offered, twisting the ring on her finger.

Dominique froze for a second. Shopping meant losing time, which was already in short supply. The castle was empty for now, no prying eyes around—the perfect moment to brush up on at least the basic theory. Magic versus clothes. The answer was obvious to her.

"Let's do it another time," Bloom shook her head, tossing her towel over the back of a chair. "I'm already going to be miles behind everyone else. I want to at least grasp the absolute basics before classes start."

Stella let out a reluctant sigh, turned off her datapad, and hopped off the bed.

"Fine, party pooper. Library it is. Let's go."

They left the room. The corridors of Alfea greeted them with an echoing silence. The high vaulted ceilings, carved from pale stone, reflected the sound of their footsteps. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows in long, angled shafts, where golden dust motes slowly twirled. The castle felt like a movie set that had been fully built but hadn't yet been populated with actors. Somewhere up ahead, girlish voices and bright laughter echoed. Two girls in brightly colored outfits rounded the corner. Spotting Stella, they both waved.

"Hey, Stella!" one of them called out, adjusting a bag on her shoulder.

"Hey, girls!" Stella gave a casual wave of her hand and immediately turned back to Bloom, continuing the story she had started. "...So I just slapped her, haha!"

The princess's eyes sparkled with amusement, as if recalling a fond memory.

"That's what she gets for showing up to a ball in the exact same dress as the princess. It's simply a faux pas!"

Dominique gave a low grunt. Her face remained impassive, but her lips pressed into a thin line. So much for the noble princess from the cartoon, she thought.

"And what did she do?" Bloom forced the question out, purely to keep the conversation going.

"Well, she burst into tears and said she was going to tell on me! Hahaha!" Stella threw her head back, her laughter echoing down the empty corridor. "And I told her: 'To who? My dad is already the King!'"

Dominique shot her a brief glance. An astounding lack of boundaries, crossed Madame Lefevre's mind. And this girl is my primary guide.

They passed through another archway and entered a wide hall leading to the library doors. A massive dark wood notice board stood near the entrance, protected by a transparent, barely visible magical force field. A long scroll of parchment hung beneath it.

"Oh, look, they already posted it!" Stella braked sharply and poked a finger at the text. "God... just thinking about being a freshman again. What an absolute humiliation for my reputation!"

She pouted in displeasure, skimming the list of subjects. Dominique stepped closer, studying the schedule. Her eyes snagged on the course titles: Metamorphosymbiosis, Magical Ethics, Potionology. Stella, meanwhile, kept grumbling, adjusting a curl of hair.

"Wizgiz, Palladium... Professor Du Four. Nothing new."

Dominique said nothing; the names meant absolutely nothing to her. She was already staring at the massive library doors, behind which lay the only thing she valued right now—information. Finally, Stella pulled herself away from the class schedule and waved a hand carelessly toward the massive double doors, which were adorned with carvings of intertwined branches.

"And here's the library," she tossed out.

The princess stepped up and gave the heavy-looking doors a light push. They swung inward surprisingly silently, revealing the room inside. It was a strange place: massive oak bookshelves reaching all the way to the ceiling stood side by side with sleek terminals where holographic keyboards hovered in the air. Cozy armchairs were placed along the windows, and magical chandeliers drifted smoothly beneath the vaulted ceilings, casting a soft, even light.

"Anyone here? Madam Barbatea?" Stella called out brightly.

A woman in her forties stepped out from behind a tall bookshelf at the far end of the hall. She was dressed in a strict blue gown, her hair styled in a high updo, and wire-rimmed glasses glinted on her face.

"Princess?" Barbatea stopped and slowly shifted her gaze from Stella to Dominique. "A bit early to start studying, isn't it?"

"Madam, this is Varanda, she's new," Stella nudged Bloom forward. "She needs something on the basics of magic. Just to read while we have some free time."

"On the basics," Barbatea adjusted her glasses. "Which basics exactly? Theory? History? Practical application?"

"For starters... theory. What magic is, how exactly it works," Bloom made a vague, swirling gesture with her hand, unsure how to phrase the request more accurately.

Barbatea gave her a long look over the rims of her lenses.

"An interesting request. And what do you already know about magic?"

"Nothing," Dominique let her shoulders slump slightly, feigning embarrassment.

"That is... I must admit, unexpected," Barbatea raised an eyebrow. "Students usually arrive at Alfea already possessing foundational knowledge."

"Unfortunately, Varanda's magic awakened far too late," Stella threw her hands up, slapping a sympathetic look onto her face. "She hasn't studied theory at all."

The librarian remained silent, and it was absolutely impossible to tell from her face whether she bought the story or not.

"Wait here. I will try to find something."

She disappeared behind the shelves, and Stella immediately leaned in close to Dominique's ear.

"Oof, the way she looked at you. Be careful, she's ready to turn you into a bookmark for every folded page corner."

A couple of minutes later, Barbatea returned, carrying two hefty leather-bound books.

"Here. Try these. Energy Balance: From Spark to Form and Fundamental Laws of Magical Structures. If anything is unclear, feel free to ask."

Dominique reached out to take the books, but Barbatea didn't release her grip. Bloom froze in confusion, looking at the librarian. The woman leaned in slightly, her voice turning velvety and stern:

"You may read them here. All I ask is that you follow three simple rules: Do not fold the pages. Do not write in the margins. And do not make noise. Is that understood?"

"Understood," Bloom nodded.

Barbatea slowly, as if parting with a piece of her own soul, released the tomes.

"Good. I will be at my desk if you need anything."

She pointed to a high-backed chair in the center of the hall and walked away.

"Alright. You have fun being bored, I'm taking off," Stella smirked, backing toward the exit. "Should I come get you for lunch?"

"Sure. Or better yet—bring it here."

"Of course, Your Majesty!" Stella executed a graceful, mocking curtsy. "Would you like me to chew it for you, too?"

"Just go," Dominique waved her off and sat down at the nearest table, opening the first book.

Stella, giggling quietly, vanished out the door. Perfect silence fell over the library, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages. And Dominique seemed to lose track of time entirely, diving headfirst into her reading. Her fingers methodically turned the pages, while her eyes rapidly devoured blocks of text. Her past experience hadn't gone anywhere: the ability to extract the core essence from multi-page reports and legal contracts in a matter of minutes worked flawlessly here. Furthermore, whoever wrote this book was definitely a talented individual—they knew their target audience and didn't clutter the text with unnecessary fluff.

Everything seemed simple and clear, as it usually does in theory. What it would be like in practice—that remained to be seen.

Dominique had barely skimmed a third of the book, but her first impression was already formed. Magic itself, as the author emphasized, was a highly universal thing. It didn't have a specific alignment. The very first pages absolutely shattered Dominique's preconceptions about the supernatural: there was no "black," "white," or any other color-coded magic that sci-fi authors on Earth loved to categorize it into. Magic was just energy. But if that's true, why is Stella considered a fairy of light, and I'm a fairy of fire? Dominique wondered.

The answer as to why Stella shined while she burned presented itself a dozen pages later. It wasn't the magic itself that was unique, but the inner "core" or "spark"—the author used different terms, but the essence remained the same. Every magical creature had a core with a specific elemental hue. Dominique quickly flipped through a few sections where the author launched into lengthy theorizing about the origins of different elements. All those hypotheses and conjectures were of zero interest to her right now.

What captured her attention was the middle of the book. As it turned out, an elemental manifestation didn't limit a mage at all. They could cast whatever they wanted using so-called transformation circles. In simple terms—spells. Dominique lingered on this page for a long time, studying a very basic diagram. The circle was called "Lumen." It consisted of flawlessly perfect circles drawn in thin lines. The outer ring was covered in a script of some runic symbols Dominique couldn't read. The center of the circle was occupied by a complex geometric shape forming a six-pointed star, surrounded by another chain of runes. A multitude of fine lines and arcs connected the central star to the outer circles, illustrating exactly how energy was supposed to circulate through the weave. What magic? This is a damn circuit diagram, Dominique marveled. And this meant that, despite being a fairy of fire, she was perfectly capable of lighting a basic magical lightbulb, just like Stella. She simply had to channel her energy through this "form." However, the book went on to provide the calculations: the energy loss for such a transformation was roughly two to three times higher compared to performing a similar action using one's native element.

Fascinating. I'll have to ask Stella how this actually works in practice, Dominique thought.

And right then, speak of the devil—the heavy library door swung open silently, and Stella appeared in the doorway. She waved cheerfully, signaling Bloom to wrap up her studies.

 

[VitahAR]

Dominique resolutely gathered both books into her arms and, tucking them under her arm, headed for the exit. She was already planning how, after lunch, she would crash on her bed and sort through the remaining chapters in peace. But just as she reached for the door, a dry, meaningful cough sounded behind her.

"Young miss, removing books from the reading room is strictly prohibited," Barbatea's voice sounded quite stern.

Dominique froze. Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the leather bindings, and she slowly turned around, meeting the librarian's narrowed gaze.

"Sorry," Bloom tossed out curtly. "I didn't know."

"Now you do," Barbatea nodded dryly, never taking her eyes off her.

Dominique returned to the table and carefully placed the tomes back. Stella, who had been leaning against the doorframe the whole time, couldn't hold back and snorted into her fist, watching the scene. When they finally stepped out into the corridor and the heavy library doors closed, Stella was openly laughing:

"Did you seriously think you could swipe them? Give it up! A fly couldn't slip past Barbatea unnoticed, let alone someone trying to sneak her 'treasures' out behind her back... Trust me, she'd hunt you down on the other side of the dimension."

Dominique didn't answer, merely pursing her lips in displeasure. It was amazing how quickly she had gotten used to the fact that in her old world, any report could be emailed or tossed into a briefcase. Here, information was tied to a physical medium, and it was irritating as hell.

They walked down the long corridor, past tall arches through which the midday sun poured in.

"Listen, Stella," Dominique broke the silence. "Can you... can you make fire? Like, right now?"

Stella faltered for a second and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Fire? Where did that request come from?"

"Read about transformation circles in a book," Bloom nodded toward the library. "It said it's possible for any mage."

Stella looked around conspiratorially, checking to make sure Griselda's strict silhouette wasn't looming at the end of the hall.

"Actually, magic in the corridors is forbidden," she whispered. "If the old bat sees us, she'll roast us on that very fire. But... fine. Only for you... Appreciate the risk I'm taking for a friend..."

Dominique snorted quietly and nudged her with her shoulder.

"Just do it, drama queen," she muttered. "While you're giving your monologue, we could have been caught three times."

Stella's eyes went wide with indignation.

"Excuse me, I'm setting the mood!"

Dominique just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Over these couple of days of knowing her, she had already figured out that Stella was the kind of person who vitally needed a small stage and a grateful audience. And the more she was coaxed, the more eagerly she showed off her talents.

"The mood is wonderful. Is fire on the schedule?" Dominique smirked.

Stella snorted and shot her a highly amused look.

"You're such a pain."

"Look who's talking," Dominique scoffed.

The girls stared at each other for a second. Stella tried her hardest to keep a straight face, but her lips betrayed her with a twitch. She turned away, hiding a smile, and waved toward the nearest alcove in the wall.

"In here," she whispered.

A stone bust of some ancient fairy with a haughty expression and a tall diadem stood in the recess. They quickly slipped into the gap, standing right beneath the unknown fairy's bust. Stella peeked out into the corridor one more time, and satisfied that it was empty, held her right hand out, palm up. The princess narrowed her eyes, and Dominique watched as a glowing orange circle began to form in the air above her hand. Thin lines drew themselves, rapidly filling with tiny runes. And then, right in the center of this magical matrix, almost reluctantly, a flame began to birth. At first, it was a tiny, trembling ember, but a second later it surged to the size of a large fist.

Dominique stared at it with shining eyes, unable to hide her awe.

"Amazing..." she murmured. "What is that circle?"

"That's Ignis. The most basic fire spell."

Stella sharply clenched her hand into a fist. The fireball vanished instantly, scattering sparks that died before they even hit the floor.

"Phew," the princess shook out her hand. "Well? Are we satisfied?"

"Yeah. Very," Dominique nodded, still thoroughly impressed by what she'd seen.

"Glad to hear it," Stella smiled smugly, shoving her hand into her pocket. "Now, to the cafeteria. No more magic tricks on an empty stomach."

They stepped back into the main corridor and continued on their way. Stella confidently led Bloom past the classroom doors, explaining on the fly who would be teaching them what.

"Here's Professor Wizgiz's room," Stella waved at a heavy door with a brass plaque. "He teaches metamorphismbiosis. Funny little leprechaun. A bit of a creep, but funny."

"He's... a what?" Dominique thought she had misheard.

"A leprechaun," Stella chuckled. "You'll see later. Oh, and here we have Professor Palladium. We'll be studying magical weeds and listening to lectures about being one with nature. The main thing is not to fall asleep in the first minute."

"Is he a...?"

"No, he's an elf," Stella laughed.

They turned down another corridor, its walls adorned with bright tapestries, and began descending a wide spiral staircase to the first floor. Dominique kept a close eye on her surroundings, trying to memorize the way back. Passing through a spacious lobby with tall columns, Stella led her to the cafeteria doors. It was a massive, sunlit hall. Huge panoramic windows took up almost an entire wall, offering a view of the courtyard, and sunbeams highlighted the lush greenery in massive pots scattered in the corners. Dozens of tables were set up, each designed for six. Right now, however, it was quiet: only about ten girls were scattered across the hall, chatting quietly over their plates. Stella confidently led Bloom to a long table in the center, where rows of dishes were laid out.

"It's self-serve here," Stella explained, grabbing a tray. "The selection is modest right now. But wait till the semester starts—the chefs will whip up masterpieces you'll lick your fingers for. For now, we make do with what we've got."

Dominique scanned the table. The choices included a couple of porridges, salads, some kind of soup, and the basics: cheese, ham, bread—basically, everything needed to construct a decent sandwich. They loaded their plates and settled at an empty table by the window. Dominique methodically chewed her salad while the princess assembled a sandwich.

"So, what do you think of Barbatea?" Stella asked. "Didn't scare you too much?"

"She's fine," Dominique shrugged. "Just a shame you can't take the books out."

"Ugh, you're so boring!" Stella rolled her eyes. "You'll have plenty of those books..."

She abruptly stopped talking, staring at the entrance. A group of three girls walked into the cafeteria. Noticing one of them—a short brunette with a flashy accessory on her bag—Stella practically beamed.

"Oh! No way, she's here already!" the princess jumped up happily. "Look, Bloom! Your wardrobe problem is solved!"

She pointed a finger right at that girl.

"What do you mean?" Dominique followed her gaze.

"That's Luma. She makes incredibly cool clothes. If anyone can turn your 'Earthling chic' into something fit for a princess, it's her."

The girls, meanwhile, grabbed their food and sat down at a table on the other side of the hall. Stella, despite Dominique's protesting gesture, stood up resolutely.

"Sit here, I'll set everything up!" she declared and marched energetically toward Luma.

Dominique was left sitting alone. She could see Stella actively pitching something to the girls, waving her arms. They occasionally giggled and threw curious glances her way. God, Stella, what are you spinning to them about me? Dominique covered her eyes with her hand, feeling a mild irritation building inside. Being the subject of other people's gossip was unfamiliar and unpleasant.

Five minutes later, Stella returned with a totally enigmatic, smug smile. She gracefully sank into her chair and winked at Bloom.

"You can relax, bestie. Your image is saved. You'll find out tonight."

"What kind of nonsense did you spin them about me?" Dominique waited until Stella sat down, then looked her dead in the eye.

"Why assume it was 'nonsense'?" Stella theatrically pouted, pretending to be mortally offended as she poked at her porridge with a spoon. "I simply complained that you, my best friend and a princess, were robbed by filthy witches right on your way to school. So now you're forced to walk around in..." she gestured vaguely at Bloom's jeans, "...this."

Dominique felt a vein start to throb at her temple.

"And that's why they were laughing?"

"Well..." Stella hesitated for a second, but immediately flashed a radiant smile. "I also had to add that you're a bit... absent-minded. Like, while you had your head in the clouds counting crows, they snagged your luggage. But hey, now they feel sorry for you! And Luma promised to help."

Dominique closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath through her nose. The school year hadn't even started yet, and her reputation was already going to the dogs. And she had one blonde princess to thank for it.

"I'm full," Dominique abruptly dropped her fork onto her plate.

She stood up from the table without looking at Stella.

"Bloom... Ugh, I mean... Varanda, are you mad?" Stella panicked, nearly knocking over her glass of juice.

Dominique took a couple of steps toward the exit, but stopped. She knew: if she didn't set boundaries right now, while emotions were running, the situation would just smooth over, and Stella would permanently climb onto her neck with her "brilliant" ideas. She turned back to the princess, maintaining an icy calm on her face.

"No," she clipped, keeping her voice low so neighboring tables wouldn't hear. "I'm going back to the library. And Stella... Don't drag me into your schemes anymore. Or at least ask for my opinion before making me look like a laughingstock. Got it?"

Stella froze for a moment, stunned by her friend's tone. Genuine bewilderment flashed in her eyes.

"Okay. Fine. I just... I was just trying to help."

Dominique saw the glint of hurt in the corners of the princess's eyes.

"I believe you," Dominique noticeably softened her tone. "But please, ask my opinion if it concerns me personally. Deal?"

She didn't wait for an answer and headed for the cafeteria exit.

"Wait, let me finish eating and I'll walk you..."

"No need. I memorized the way."

Stella watched her friend's back with a bewildered expression until she disappeared around the corner. As soon as Bloom's figure was out of sight, the princess's hurt grimace slowly smoothed out, replaced by a strange, uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. She slowly sank back into her chair, never touching her cooling porridge. The park in Gardenia suddenly surfaced in her mind's eye. That exact moment when she had first laid eyes on this redhead. Back then, Bloom looked like a lost, terrified puppy. There was genuine fear and insecurity in her eyes. But almost no time had passed since then, and now, an entirely different person was standing in front of her.

People don't just change that suddenly, Stella thought, absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger.

"Who are you really, Bloom?" Stella whispered, a mysterious, anticipatory smile touching her lips. She had always loved secrets, and this one promised to be very interesting.

Stella had always considered herself a perceptive person. Sure, many saw her merely as a frivolous princess obsessed with outfits, and to be perfectly honest, they were absolutely right. And why not? She was the Princess of Solaria, the sole heir to the throne, and saw not the slightest reason to be ashamed of it or to pretend to be humble. Stella genuinely adored her privileges, happily blowing through her father's credit cards on new boutique collections, while masterfully ignoring boring royal duties, pawning them off on lackeys at every opportunity. She loved to shine, to throw tantrums, and to be the center of attention.

But this genuine love for luxury and idleness did not negate the fact that she grew up in a royal court. And the Court of Solaria was a place where sincerity was considered a sign of feeblemindedness. Wearing a polite mask there was as routine as executing a perfunctory curtsy. It was precisely in this cauldron of elegant hypocrisy, where Stella had simmered her whole life, that she learned her primary skill—looking beneath those foreign masks. Over the years spent among the fake smiles of court dignitaries and sweet-talking ladies-in-waiting, Stella had become excellent at reading between the lines, noticing the things people tried so desperately to hide behind a pretty facade.

That was why, when she first saw Bloom in that ill-fated park, the princess was certain she was reading the girl like an open book. A terrified, utterly naive Earthling with massive, yet uncontrollable potential. A typical teenager clinging to her familiar little world. Stella thought she saw right through her. But the moment they left Gardenia, the moment Mike and Vanessa were left on the other side of the portal, Bloom began to change. If they had known each other for a year or two, this process might have looked like natural maturation, or adapting to a new environment. But they had only known each other for a couple of days. In such a tiny window of time, the contrast was simply glaring, and ignoring it was impossible.

Stella sat at the table, mindlessly pushing a spoon around her plate, replaying the last few hours in her head. The way Bloom spoke had changed—the stuttering was gone, her tone had leveled out, becoming downright commanding at times. Even her gestures had changed, and the look she had just given Stella a few minutes ago belonged to anyone but the sixteen-year-old she had met in that godforsaken hole on Earth. All her insecurity had vanished with a snap of her fingers. It was as if she had been playing the role of the perfect daughter in Gardenia, and upon arriving in Alfea, finally allowed herself to shed that skin because it was no longer needed.

Oh, Bloom. What exactly is going on with you? Stella bit her lip thoughtfully, an eager smile slowly blooming on her face.

Honestly, initially, this redhead hadn't sparked much interest in her. In Gardenia, she had seemed boring and, frankly, a bit of a dimwitted simpleton who jumped at her own shadow and blinked with wide eyes at every word. Sure, Stella decided to pull her off Earth and bring her to Alfea as gratitude for her help with the ogre. Plus, maintaining a friendly relationship with a potentially powerful fairy would be useful for the future, nothing more. But now, everything was different. Bloom was no longer a read book; she had turned into an intriguing puzzle, sparking genuine interest in the princess. And if there was one thing Stella loved as much as fashion, it was other people's secrets.

Leaning back in her chair, the heir of Solaria narrowed her eyes contentedly. The school year hadn't even started yet, but one thing was for sure: with a roommate like this, she definitely wouldn't be bored.

Her musings were interrupted by a delicate cough. Stella blinked, surfacing from her thoughts, and saw Luma, who, along with her friends, was awkwardly shifting from foot to foot near her table. The girls kept throwing sidelong glances at the cafeteria doors where Bloom had recently disappeared.

"Stella?" Luma started cautiously, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "Is everything okay? Your friend left so suddenly. Are we still on for tonight?"

The Princess of Solaria made a graceful wave of her hand, instantly reverting to her usual carefree persona. All her recent thoughtfulness vanished without a trace.

"Oh, come on, Luma! Everything is just fabulous," Stella smiled radiantly. "Varanda was just... a little overwhelmed. You know how it is, first day away from home, so many impressions. The poor thing got a headache and went to rest. I'll absolutely bring her over, just like we agreed. It's not even up for debate!"

Luma visibly relaxed and exhaled with relief.

"Perfect. For a second, I thought you two had a fight. By the way..." the brunette's eyes glinted mischievously, and she leaned in slightly toward the princess. "I flew to see some relatives on Melody over the break. And you will never guess what I found at one of the markets there."

Stella instantly perked up. Any mention of exclusive items worked on her flawlessly.

"What? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"Acoustic silk. Stella, you have to hear it! When it rubs against itself... Mmm, it feels like you're walking next to the ocean. The sound is incredible."

"God, Luma, I'm going to strangle you," Stella glared indignantly at the girl, completely forgetting her recent musings. "You went on a secret shopping spree and didn't even call me! Do you know what that's called? Tre-a-son," the princess finished phonetically, continuing to burn her friend with a furious stare.

"Oh, is that so? And here I was, like an idiot, buying two bolts... Figured I'd give one to a friend..." Luma theatrically turned away, portraying offended innocence with her whole body. "And here I am, being called a traitor. Guess I'll just be on my way."

She took an ostentatious step back, but didn't get far.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Stella locked onto her elbow with a death grip. The anger on her face evaporated instantly, replaced by the brightest, most innocent smile she could muster. "You heard me wrong, darling! I meant that leaving a fabric like that to gather dust on the shelves would have been a true treason against high fashion! And since you bought it, then everything is simply wonderful!"

Stella clapped her hands happily. Luma just rolled her eyes at this blatantly ridiculous excuse. She shifted her gaze to the princess, who was now looking at her with huge, pleading puppy-dog eyes, and sighed in defeat.

"Fine. So do you want to see it or not?"

"Of course! What are we waiting for?!" Stella impulsively grabbed Luma by the shoulders and practically dragged her toward the cafeteria exit. "Let's go, hurry, fashion waits for no one!"

The next few hours flew by in a blur for Stella. Luma's room turned into an impromptu atelier. They tore through all the luggage, listened in awe to the rustle of that silk from Melody, discussed the latest Magix gossip, and sketched out ideas for Bloom's wardrobe. In her element, Stella felt absolutely happy and relaxed.

By the time the princess finally left Luma's room, the corridors of Alfea were already sinking into the soft evening twilight. The magical chandeliers near the ceiling ignited with a warm glow. Whistling some catchy tune, Stella took a leisurely walk back to her room and threw the door open. She expected to see it empty, knowing Bloom was supposed to be in the library, but the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped short. The soft light of the magical lamps was already on, and Bloom was sitting on her bed, legs crossed. On her lap rested one of the very books Barbatea had issued her earlier. Stella froze in the doorway, hands on her hips. A wide, wicked grin spread across her lips.

"Well, I'll be!" the princess declared triumphantly, closing the door behind her. "You managed to swipe it after all! Fess up, how did you get past Barbatea?"

Bloom lazily turned a page. Her face remained entirely impassive when she finally lifted her gaze from the text and looked at her roommate.

"I didn't," she answered calmly, adjusting the book's spine slightly. "I just asked politely."

"Yeah, right," Stella snorted, not buying that fairy tale for a second.

She knew perfectly well that "asking Barbatea politely" to take a book out of the reading room was like politely asking a hungry ogre to share his dinner. But the princess didn't press the issue—she had more important things to do right now. She marched past Bloom's bed straight to her massive wardrobe, threw the doors open, and dove headfirst into her endless supply of outfits. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the rustle of pages on one side and the active swish of fabrics, clinking hangers, and quiet disgruntled muttering on the other.

"Hey Stella, what kind of magical core do you have?" Bloom suddenly spoke up.

"What?" Stella distracted herself from digging through the closet.

"Your core, I said, what is it? You have light, right?"

"Well yeah, I have the Light of Solaria," Stella corrected her proudly.

"And how does your Light of Solaria," Dominique emphasized the words, "differ from regular light?"

"Duh, it's obvious. 'Light of Solaria' sounds way cooler!" the princess struck a pose.

"And besides that?" Dominique smirked ironically.

"And besides that, it's my family's ancestral heritage. All my ancestors wielded the power of light."

"Got it," Dominique went back to her reading.

"They'll tell you all this in class." Stella inspected a dress she was holding, grimaced in displeasure, and hung it back up. She shot a look at Bloom and walked over to her bed. "'Fundamental Laws of Magical Structures'?"

"Yeah. Trying to figure out how all this works."

"Bloom, this won't do. Classes haven't even started yet, and you're already cramming?" Stella unceremoniously snatched the book from her. "Seriously, drop it, let's go hang with the girls. They're throwing a pajama party tonight. And Luma can take your measurements while we're there."

"Stella..." Dominique tried to grab the tome back, but the princess took a step back with a sly smile.

"Seriously, Bloom. In a week, you'll be sick to your stomach from this stuff," Stella waved the book in the air. "I know this is all new to you, but you need to relax too, not just study."

Dominique sighed heavily. Arguing with Stella was more trouble than it was worth. For every argument, the princess found an answer—often a completely absurd one, which was exactly why out-arguing her was practically impossible. Plus, Dominique herself didn't want any stupid fights, at least not while she was living here on borrowed time. She wasn't yet confident enough in Stella to rule out the possibility that the capricious princess might just rat her out to Griselda purely out of spite or offense.

"Does Griselda know about this party?"

"God forbid!" Stella was genuinely horrified. "If the old bat finds out, we'll be sleeping outside, under the fountain, until the semester starts."

"Then maybe we should skip it?"

"Oh, don't be scared. Like I said—'if she finds out'. But she won't."

Dominique scoffed skeptically. She had seen Griselda, and knew that type of person perfectly well. If something happened in the institution entrusted to her that Griselda didn't know about, it was something invisible and inaudible. And a flock of chatty girls certainly didn't fit that category. Most likely, she just turned a blind eye to minor infractions as long as they didn't cross the line. A good educator always knows: if you only tighten the screws and never let your subordinates blow off steam, it's a guaranteed path to an explosion. Especially when your wards are highborn, spoiled teenagers with magical powers.

"Alright. Fine, let's go," Dominique agreed with a sigh. "Just let me finish this chapter."

"Fabulous! We're gonna have a blast!" Stella handed the book back and rushed back to her closet, lamenting over what she should wear to a pajama party.

 

[VitahAR]

Stella was getting ready for a simple pyjama party as if at least the kings from all over the Magical Dimension were going to be in attendance. Dominique, who had been watching this farce for a solid hour, even began to doubt whether the princess was lying to her about the venue. During this time, she had already managed to finish reading a chapter, and if she wanted to, she could have powered through another one while Stella continued to sort through her endless outfits. She slammed the book shut and shifted an irritated glare to Stella, who was standing in front of the mirror in nothing but her underwear, critically examining yet another dress.

"Stella, this party, it's going to be here, in Alfea, right?" Dominique set the book aside and looked at her roommate. "In the dorms, if I understand correctly?"

"Well, yeah, in Luma's room," Stella replied without turning her head, trying on the outfit.

"Then why are you dressing up like you're going to a concert?" Bloom gestured expressively at the chaos reigning around them. "It's just a pyjama get-together."

"Because even a simple pyjama party is an occasion!" Stella finally turned around and triumphantly held the dress she was holding up against herself. "An occasion to take my new dress out for a spin. I bought it on Solaria right before I left and haven't worn it once. What do you think?"

The dress was in the signature style of the Princess of Solaria—bright, and incredibly expensive-looking. It was a short outfit made of light, iridescent sea-green fabric. The bodice was strapless and form-fitting, and the center of the chest was adorned with a massive, rhinestone-encrusted gold star. The skirt consisted of multiple asymmetrical ruffles that showed off her legs.

"Not bad," Dominique nodded.

"Not bad? That's it?" Stella's eyes widened in indignation, and she dramatically stomped her foot. "Bloom, you are hopeless! This is an exclusive!"

"Alright, alright, you look magnificent," Dominique raised her hands in a mock gesture of surrender, smiling only with the corners of her lips. "All the guys will be yours."

"Now that's more like it," Stella instantly replaced her anger with mercy and smiled at her reflection. "It's just a shame there won't be any guys there. Sigh... I wish I could hook a handsome guy. Preferably a prince. But a non-prince is fine too, as long as he is..." Stella ticked off a finger. "Tall. Brunette, with those... mysterious eyes, broad shoulders, strong arms, so he could carry me around all day long!"

Good Lord, what a primitive set of clichés, Dominique snorted sarcastically to herself. Stella's picture of the "ideal macho man" looked like it belonged on the cover of a cheap romance novel.

"And what if your father finds out about your search for the 'ideal guy'?" Dominique decided to bring her friend down to earth a little.

"So what?" Stella waved her hand carelessly, continuing to twirl in front of the mirror.

"Well, you're a princess, the sole heir. Haven't you been engaged to some prince since childhood? In royal families, that's practically standard practice."

"Ha-ha, I actually was!" The princess suddenly grew cheerful, her laugh echoing through the room. "They wanted to marry me off to Sky, the Prince of Eraklyon. But it didn't work out. Since then, I'm still as free as a bird in the sky, and I get to choose my own match."

"How so?" Dominique leaned forward, sensing something interesting behind this story. "What happened?"

"Isis happened," Stella grew serious, and for the first time all evening, a harsh note entered her voice. "This world is much closer to Eraklyon than Solaria. And Eraklyon, let me tell you, is quite the powder keg—they're always dealing with either riots or civil wars. Anyway, Erendor—that's the King of Eraklyon—asked my father not only for my hand for his son, but also for military aid to suppress their latest rebellion."

She paused, adjusting a ruffle on her skirt.

"My father didn't want to get dragged into their internal little wars, and refused to send troops. Eraklyon immediately cancelled the engagement with me, and ran straight to Isis with the exact same offer. And they just happened to have a princess of the right age, Diaspro. So there you go. Ever since then, Eraklyon and Isis have been like 'best friends forever,'" Stella said the last words with obvious irony, making air quotes. "And they're friends, as you might easily guess, against Solaria."

"Wow... Sounds like a fun time around here," Dominique couldn't help but shake her head.

Perhaps it was actually a good thing she hadn't tried to get into Beta Academy, seeing as that planet was boiling with such intense drama.

"So, what then?" Dominique decided to hear the story to the end. "Since you're left without a prince, does that mean your father won't mind your relationship with someone... say, not of royal blood?"

"Oh, he'll definitely mind!" Stella laughed, but there was more bitterness than amusement in the sound. "He'll throw the scandal of the century. But I don't care. I'm not going to marry a man I don't know and don't love. I want real feelings!"

Oh, Stella, how naive you still are, Dominique thought, looking at the princess with mild pity. Most likely, you're only running around without a wedding ring on your finger right now because, at this particular moment, there is no suitable political match that satisfies your father. But that by no means implies you have freedom of choice. Nobody is going to ask what you want.

"What about you, Bloom?" Stella suddenly shifted her attention to her roommate. "Did you have anyone back on Earth?"

Dominique thought for a second. God only knows if the original Bloom had someone or not. But, considering that in all the days spent in Gardenia, not a single person had called her, texted her, or asked her out on a date, it was highly unlikely.

"No," Dominique shook her head, returning to her book.

"I thought so!" Stella clapped her hands in delight. "And you know what that means?"

"What?" Dominique cast a suspicious sideways glance at her. Stella was entirely too thrilled by her answer.

"That we're going to find you a proper guy here!" Stella smiled triumphantly. "Red Fountain has a selection of handsome guys for every taste! Specialists are the elite; they aren't princes, obviously, but they're trained as bodyguards for royalty, so they're all tall, strong... Mmm, mouth-watering! So, what are your tastes? Brunettes? Blondes? Maybe with long hair?"

Dominique felt a vein start to throb at her temple. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her preferences in men with this little brat.

"Let's put a pin in the discussion about local guys for later, shall we?" Dominique exhaled loudly and closed her book again, setting it on the edge of the bed. "We supposedly have a party to get to."

Stella, who had already fished a tiny, sparkly handbag out of the closet, froze and turned around in surprise.

"But how can you not be interested? Bloom, sometimes you are such a bore! They're Specialists! The coolest guys in Magix!"

"I believe you," Dominique replied calmly.

She got up from the bed, and her body immediately responded with a slight discomfort from sitting in one position for too long. Dominique stretched lightly, working the stiffness out of her shoulders and neck, and took a few slow steps around the room, getting her blood flowing again.

"Are we going? Or are you planning to stand in front of the mirror until morning?" Dominique asked, nodding toward the door.

Stella snorted in offense, but still smoothed out the ruffles on her skirt and slung the thin strap of her handbag over her shoulder.

"We're going, we're going. But we are definitely continuing the conversation about boys!" The Princess of Solaria clicked her heels loudly across the parquet floor and was the first to walk out of the room.

Dominique cast one last glance at her bed, flicked the wall switch to plunge the bedroom into darkness, and followed her out, quietly pulling the door shut. The empty dormitory hallway was quiet and cool. The magical lamps near the ceiling cast soft shadows against the walls. Stella confidently led Dominique down the dimly lit corridor toward the stairs, the clatter of her heels the only sound breaking the evening silence.

"Stella, where are we going?" Dominique frowned slightly and involuntarily slowed her pace as the princess began descending the wide steps to the first floor.

"Luma lives in 109. That's on the first floor," the princess answered. Without breaking stride, she pulled a datapad from her tiny bag and glanced briefly at the glowing display. "Crap, we're late. The girls are probably all gathered by now."

"Remind me, whose exact fault is it that we're late?" Dominique asked dryly.

"No idea," the princess giggled, completely unbothered, and only picked up her pace.

They passed the landing and turned into the east wing of the dormitory. Dominique walked behind the princess, instinctively trying to step silently and keep close to the walls. If Griselda actually catches us, it'll be a nightmare, Dominique thought, peering into the shadows of the corridor. Fortunately, they didn't run into anyone along the way, and soon they stopped in front of a door with a neat brass plaque reading "109." Warm light spilled from the crack under the door, and muffled girls' laughter could be heard from inside. Stella, purely as a formality, rapped her knuckles against the wood and, not even waiting for an answer, decisively pressed the handle, throwing the door wide open.

"Here we are!" the princess announced joyfully, stepping inside.

A typical relaxed atmosphere reigned in Luma's room: oversized pillows were casually scattered on the floor, trays of snacks sat on a low table, and three girls dressed in light pyjamas were already inside.

"Only twenty minutes late. Damn, Stella, what happened to you?" Luma, sitting on the edge of the made bed, raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Ha-ha, come on, come on, pay up," a bright brunette sitting right on the fluffy rug waved her hand happily. "I won."

The other two girls sighed in defeat and pulled out their datapads. A few quick taps on the screens, and the brunette's device emitted a double melodic chime, confirming the transfer.

"Oh, you... Betting on how late I'd be again?" Stella stomped her foot in indignation, but almost immediately smiled slyly. "Amelia, I want half."

"What? It's only a hundred credits!" the brunette protested, clutching her datapad to her chest.

"I don't want to hear it," Stella proudly lifted her chin and confidently walked further into the room.

Dominique silently slipped in behind her and closed the door firmly.

"You are such a cheapskate, Stella," Amelia grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"I am thrifty," the Princess of Solaria placed her hands on her hips, striking a perfect model pose.

A second of silence hung in the room. Everyone present silently looked at her exclusive dress and trendy sandals, which undoubtedly cost more than everything these girls owned combined. Yeah, everyone in Alfea knew exactly how "thrifty" the princess was.

"Alright, alright, our little thrifty princess," Luma chuckled, breaking the silence. "Care to introduce your friend?"

"Of course," Stella made a graceful sweeping gesture with her hand. "Meet Princess Varanda of Callisto. Varanda, this is," she pointed at the girl with the datapad, "Amelia."

The brunette waved amiably without getting up from the rug.

"And this is Luma, she's our future fashion designer."

Luma, whom Dominique had already seen in the cafeteria today, smiled and gave a brief nod in greeting.

"And Angelica," Stella shifted her finger to a dark-haired girl sitting a bit further away on the pillows.

Dominique took a half-step forward and bowed her head slightly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I hope we can be friends."

I make myself sick, Dominique thought grimly. She had delivered the most clichéd line she could remember from the cheap pulp novels she sometimes flipped through out of boredom on long flights. To cement the effect, she stretched her lips, trying to display the most welcoming, slightly shy smile of a naive princess she could muster.

"She's so sweet!" Angelica giggled immediately. "Come on in, sit down," the dark-haired girl patted the empty spot on the pillows right next to her. "Don't be shy."

Contrary to the expectations of Dominique, who had been bracing herself to bravely endure hours of pointless chatter about boys and makeup, the second-year students turned out to be surprisingly pleasant conversationalists. The girls discussed rather interesting topics, smoothly transitioning from the latest magical fashion trends to the real political climate in the Dimension. Dominique spent most of the time simply sitting silently on the pillows, chewing a sandwich and listening, filing the information away. Almost everything they discussed sounded to her like excerpts from sci-fi novels, but these were the realities of the world she now had to live in. Whenever Angelica or Amelia tried to drag the "new girl" into the conversation or innocently asked about certain customs on her native Callisto, Stella instantly stepped in. The Princess of Solaria masterfully, with a light chuckle, intercepted the initiative and skillfully steered the topic in a completely different direction.

As they talked, Luma didn't waste any time. She armed herself with a glowing magical measuring tape and began taking Bloom's measurements.

"So, what kind of style do you prefer?" the girl asked, quickly logging the numbers into her datapad. "I have some acoustic silk, we could make something incredibly delicate and flowing."

"I'd prefer something a bit more practical," Dominique answered in an even voice. "A pencil skirt, a white blouse. Something along those lines."

Luma froze with her measuring tape raised and looked at her as if she had lost her mind. The conversation in the room died for a second.

"That's... a business suit?" Luma blinked in incomprehension. "For a princess? Varanda, we're planning to sew an outfit for high society events, not a uniform for working in an office."

Dominique caught Stella's expressive, warning glare and mentally bit her tongue. She had to remind herself that she was currently playing the role of a sixteen-year-old aristocrat, not getting ready for a board of directors meeting.

"Alright," Dominique forced out a placating smile. "Just make something not too flashy. Without a dozen layers and ruffles, please."

"Deal!" Luma beamed immediately, returning to her notes.

Meanwhile, Angelica got up from the rug, tiptoed to the door, and carefully peeked out into the dark hallway. Satisfied that no one was there, she pulled the door tightly shut and clicked the lock.

"Well, girls," the dark-haired girl smiled slyly, returning to the center of the room. "I don't think Griselda is coming for an inspection anymore. How about some Elven brandy?"

"Bring it out!" Amelia rubbed her hands together gleefully.

Angelica dropped to her knees, pulled a travel bag from under her bed, and began rummaging through it. A couple of seconds later, she triumphantly fished out a glass bottle filled to the brim with a thick, acid-green swill.

Is that freaking absinthe? Dominique stared at the bottle in disbelief. Are they seriously planning to get drunk right here in the school? A girls' get-together is one thing, but this...

"Varanda, do you want some?" Amelia's cheerful voice interrupted Dominique's thoughts. The girl had already produced a stack of small shot glasses from somewhere and was now arranging them on the low table.

Dominique cast a quick, tense glance at Stella. She really, really didn't want to drink. And it wasn't because she was some kind of prude—in her past life, she knew exactly how to handle her alcohol. The problem lay in the risks. Unlike these highborn girls, who, in the event of a bust, would get off with a stern reprimand and a letter to their parents, Dominique was risking much more. If she was caught drunk and an investigation started, the fake identity of "Princess Varanda" would crumble in an instant, and she would simply be thrown out onto the street.

But at that exact moment, Stella turned to Luma, actively discussing the depth of the neckline on some sketch. She either genuinely didn't see her friend's look, or intentionally pretended not to notice her silent question. Dominique slowly bit the inside of her cheek. Getting up and leaving right now, citing a headache or fatigue, meant single-handedly ruining the decent, trusting relationship with the second-years that had just begun to form. Being an outcast in a closed female community was the worst possible option.

With a heavy heart, she shifted her gaze back to the acid-green liquid in the bottle.

"Yeah," Dominique gave a brief nod. "Pour me one."

I'll drink one glass and just pretend I'm wasted. It's not like they're going to force-feed it to me, Dominique reasoned pragmatically, watching the thick greenish liquid being poured into the tiny glasses.

The girls huddled around the low table. The booze gave off a strange, but surprisingly pleasant, spicy aroma, completely unlike the harsh smell of alcohol. Stella was the first to grab her glass, raising it above the table with an enthusiastic smile.

"To me finally finding a normal guy this year!" the Princess of Solaria proclaimed solemnly.

"Stella, you've only got one thing on your mind," Luma replied with a chuckle, picking up her glass.

"Oh, shut up. Just grab your drinks," Stella waved her off with her free hand.

The rest took their glasses from the table and clinked them with a ringing sound. Dominique brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, mentally bracing herself for the sharp bitterness of hard liquor. But the taste was completely unexpected. The liquid didn't burn her throat—it was cloying, excessively sweet, and thick, as if she had just swallowed a spoonful of melted honey mixed with herbs. However, the moment that sweet syrup hit her stomach, it felt like a fire ignited inside her. A hot, pulsing wave instantly slammed outward from her core, rapidly spreading through her veins all the way to her fingertips. The sensation was so strange and sudden that Dominique couldn't even find the words to describe the state. It was as if, in a single second, every muscle in her body went limp, turning to jelly, and her only desire was to simply lie down on the rug and close her eyes.

"Hey, Varanda, are you okay?"

The voice reached her muffled, as if through a thick layer of cotton. Dominique struggled to force her swimming vision to focus on the speaker. It looked like Angelica. The dark-haired girl was looking at her with a strange, knowing smile. Nearby, she heard Stella and Amelia's quiet, rippling giggles.

Dominique suddenly realized that her cheeks were burning like fire, and the room had begun to tilt to the left suspiciously slowly.

"Sit down," Angelica pulled gently on her sleeve, forcing her back down onto the pillows. "Have you ever had Elven brandy before?"

Dominique shook her head. She was too lazy to even part her lips to squeeze out a sound. The thoughts in her head moved slowly and viscously, like in a thick fog. She had absolutely no idea what was happening to her. This simply couldn't be. She had only drunk one pathetic little glass! How could her adult mind drift so fast after her very first dose of Elven alcohol?

Meanwhile, Angelica poured another round, and Dominique somehow completely unconsciously reached for a new serving. And then followed a third. The atmosphere in the room became maximally relaxed. Stella started up her broken record about guys again, gesturing actively and complaining that some guy she had dated on Solaria turned out to be a complete asshole.

"I need a normal one!" the princess proclaimed, waving her half-empty glass so wildly that the green liquid almost splashed onto the rug. "Someone who will appreciate me for me, and not for my status and money!"

Dominique, after her third glass, was struggling to form coherent thoughts. At this point, she probably wouldn't even have been able to give a clear answer as to what she was doing here or who all these blurry shapes around her were. Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter cut through the cotton wool and grabbed her attention.

"Stop laying it on so thick!" Amelia choked out through her laughter. "You're a princess, you guys aren't even allowed to until the wedding!"

"What kind of delusional stereotypes are those?" Stella puffed out her chest in indignation and nearly dropped her glass. "I'm already seventeen! I can sleep with whoever I want, wherever I want!"

"Yeah, right," Angelica snorted mockingly, and the other girls nodded in agreement. It was abundantly clear from their faces that they didn't believe a single word the Princess of Solaria was saying. "And how was it, then?"

"Like hell I'm telling you, you'll just blab to everyone!" Stella crossed her arms defensively, and then her wandering gaze landed on her melted roommate. "You're better off asking Bloom... I mean, Varanda! Confess, Varanda, have you done it yet?"

Dominique slowly, as if fighting the resistance of water, shifted her cloudy gaze to Stella. A murky wave of drunken indignation swelled inside her. These little snot-nosed brats with their giggling and secrets actually think they're looking at an equally green virgin! she thought indignantly, feeling her wounded pride demanding an immediate outlet.

"Of course I have," Dominique proudly lifted her chin. The execution was a bit crooked, and she swayed slightly to the side. "I, unlike you, am an adult woman, not some... virgin."

Everyone stared at her. For a moment, absolute, ringing silence hung in the room. The only sound was one of the girls sharply inhaling. And then, the room was shaken by a roar of Homeric laughter. The upperclassmen laughed until they cried, clutching their stomachs and falling back onto the pillows.

"An adult woman..." Stella wiped the tears brought on by her laughter, her voice trembling.

"What are you laughing at?" Their laughter irritated Dominique immensely. Why should she have to prove obvious facts to these kids? She frowned, trying to give her face the most stern and authoritative expression possible. "Do you know how many men I've had?"

"Go on, enlighten us," Stella mumbled drunkenly, openly amused and propping her cheek on her hand.

"I've had..." Dominique struggled to raise her heavy hand and began to carefully, with utmost concentration, bend her fingers down one by one, as if solving a highly complex math equation. "Pierre... Mark... Six! See, I've had six!"

The girls simply collapsed onto the rug in a new, even wilder fit of laughter.

"And how was it?" Angelica managed to squeeze out through her giggles. "The first time hurts, right?"

"Yeah. It hurts like hell, merde!" Dominique swore with feeling. "But after that, it's not bad. Even feels nice."

At that confession, Luma simply curled up into a ball on the rug, continuing to shake slightly from the endless laughter.

"Girls, stop... I'm going to die laughing," the brunette wheezed, holding her stomach.

"Stella, I think your friend has had enough," Angelica noted, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I think so too," Stella got to her feet, still chuckling quietly. "Alright, Varanda, let's go home, time for beddie-bye. Come on, come on, get up."

"I don't want to go home," Dominique shook her head drunkenly and clumsily pushed away the princess's extended hand.

I just finally got comfortable, and these kids are already shutting down the fun, she thought indignantly, even though her disobedient body at that moment treacherously tipped sideways, miraculously avoiding knocking over the empty glass.

"Alright, don't throw a tantrum, get up," Stella tried to pull her by the shoulder, but Bloom absolutely refused to leave, turning into entirely dead weight. The princess sighed and turned to the dark-haired girl, who looked the most coherent after Stella herself. "Ange, help. I can't drag her by myself."

Angelica crouched down next to them and gave Dominique an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Come on, Varanda, we're going somewhere else. It'll be even cooler there."

Hearing that they were going somewhere "even cooler," Dominique stopped resisting. She let the girls grab her under the armpits and haul her up from the pillows; her legs were obeying her terribly. They somehow tumbled out into the dark hallway. Stella draped one of Dominique's arms over her shoulder, and Ange grabbed the other.

"Just keep quiet," Angelica mouthed silently. "If Griselda catches us now, we are dead."

They moved down the dimly lit corridor. Dominique hung heavily on their shoulders, periodically tripping over her own feet. The girls jumped at every rustle, pressing themselves in sync against the cold stone walls at the slightest creak of the floorboards. Stella even took off her platform sandals so as not to clack all over the floor, and was now slapping her bare feet silently against the stone. Thankfully, nighttime luck was on their side, and the corridors of Alfea remained completely empty. They conquered the stairs and finally stumbled into the right bedroom.

"Well, we're home," Dominique heard Stella's heavy exhale.

The support from both sides suddenly vanished. Dominique swayed forward, failing to keep her balance, and the last thing she saw in the dim light from the window was a rapidly approaching white blur, which appeared to be her pillow.

The moment her face touched the cool fabric, Madame Lefevre's consciousness completely faded out.

 

[VitahAR]

Heels clicked rhythmically against the flawless, glossy floor. Dominique strode down the corridor of her corporate headquarters, and the employees, catching a mere glimpse of her, hastily pressed themselves against the walls to make way. Her faithful assistant, Antoine, scurried half a step behind her as usual, clutching a thick folder of reports to his chest.

"Madame Lefevre, sales of our new dolls from the 'Princess of Solaria' line are breaking all conceivable records," the assistant reported on the go. "Perhaps we should release a limited, life-sized test batch... for our special connoisseurs?"

Dominique winced without breaking her stride. Antoine's hint was crystal clear, and the potential revenue was astronomical. But releasing dolls for perverts? No, too risky for the brand's image. Under no circumstances should children's products cross over with the adult toy market. One media scandal, and their stocks would plummet.

"I'll think about it," she gave a curt nod, though she had already made her decision.

She pushed open the heavy glass doors and stepped into the boardroom. Walking briskly to the head of the long table, Dominique took her seat.

"But we've already prepared the first prototype," Antoine smirked thinly, stopping beside her. "The 'Princess of Solaria' doll. Life-sized. Exclusive."

He snapped his fingers. The boardroom doors swung open again, and two burly movers in company jumpsuits dragged something in by the arms...

"Stella?!" Dominique half-rose from her chair, planting her palms flat on the table.

It was Stella. Real, alive, tied securely with thick ropes and muffling through a tight gag in her mouth. The Princess of Solaria was rolling her eyes wildly, thrashing desperately to break free, but the movers held her in a death grip.

"How do you like the craftsmanship, Madame?" Antoine asked in an oily voice.

For probably the first time in her life, Dominique felt so utterly shocked she lost the ability to speak.

"What are you... Let her go immediately!" she barked, finally snapping out of it. Dominique bolted from behind the table, rushed to the girl, and yanked the gag out with a sharp tug. "Stella? How did you even get here?!"

"How do you know my name?! Who the hell are you?!" the princess shrieked back, staring at her in sheer terror.

"Me? I'm Bloom, what are you..." Dominique tried to put her hands on Stella's shoulders to calm her down.

"What Bloom?! You're a crazy hag, let me go right now, hurry up!" the princess screamed, recoiling.

"Just calm down, I'm telling you, I'm Bloom..."

"You are no Bloom! You're a damn witch!" Stella suddenly flared with blinding light, and the thick ropes binding her snapped into pieces with a loud crack.

"Stella, calm down—"

"Solaria!"

A bright, incinerating light seared her eyes. In the next fraction of a second, an unbearable pain burned through her chest and...

Dominique's eyes snapped open, her mouth gasping frantically for air. The familiar white ceiling of her Alfea dorm room loomed over her, blurry and out of focus. She took a deep, ragged breath. A dream? More like a schizophrenic nightmare.

Dominique tuned into the sensations in her body and immediately regretted it. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, her mouth felt so dry and vile it was as if a platoon of feral cats had used it as a litter box overnight, and her head felt like it was being crushed in a red-hot steel vise.

"Kill me now..." she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in her pillow.

"Oh, look, our adult woman is awake," a painfully cheerful and mocking voice chimed from somewhere to her side.

The moment the meaning of those words penetrated her inflamed brain, Dominique felt a wave of icy dread wash over her insides, completely overriding even the nausea. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows, fighting the throbbing pain in her temples, and looked at the neighboring bed. Stella was lounging on top of her blanket, legs crossed. A datapad glowed in her hands, emitting muffled dialogue and music—apparently, the princess was watching a movie.

"What... What do you mean by that?" Dominique rasped warily, feeling a cold, clammy sweat break out on her back.

"Pfft, come on! Are you telling me you don't remember the absolute show you put on yesterday?" Stella paused her movie, set the device aside, and turned to her roommate. A wide, blatantly wicked smile stretched across her face.

Dominique rubbed her face with her hands, trying to force the gears in her head to turn.

"I remember we went to the party... Then you introduced me to the girls... Then we drank some kind of swill..." she swallowed the thick saliva in her throat. "And after that, it's just a black hole. I don't remember a thing."

Dominique groaned in sheer helplessness and collapsed back onto the mattress.

"Ha-ha-ha!" Stella burst into ringing laughter, thoroughly enjoying the moment. "You are unbelievable! The best part was after that. I didn't even think you'd get so hammered off just a couple of glasses. I don't think the girls will be forgetting what you did anytime soon."

"And what exactly did I do?" Dominique bit her lip hard.

Her heart broke into a gallop again. What could she have done? What did she say? If she blabbed about her past life, about Earth, about her corporation... That was a catastrophic failure; all that was left to do was pack her bags.

"Well, for starters, you bragged about how many guys you've been with. You called us a bunch of little girls, and claimed you were an experienced, adult woman!" Stella openly mocked her, watching her roommate's face grow paler with every word.

"Are you serious? Did I... Did I really say that?" Dominique whispered in a dead voice, staring at the ceiling.

At that moment, she wanted to slap herself hard enough to knock the remaining Elven booze right out of her system. Thirty-eight years old, head of an international corporation, and she got wasted like a teenager and started spinning tall tales about her exes to a bunch of sixteen-year-old fairies. Pathetic.

"Yup! We haven't laughed that hard in ages," the princess wiped an invisible tear from the corner of her eye.

"Hah... Is that so? Guess I put on a great show for you guys then?"

Dominique let out a slow, deep exhale, feeling the heavy, paralyzing weight of fear lift off her chest. They had taken her words as nothing more than drunken, teenage rambling. Perfect. Better they think she's a hilarious fabulist than a crazy old woman trapped in a teenager's body.

"That's putting it mildly!" Stella snorted. "You were the hit of the night!"

"Alright," Dominique rasped, somehow dragging herself out of bed. Her body was obeying her terribly, her legs shaking. "Stop gloating. Some friend you are."

"Ha-ha-ha, you know," the princess started, showing not an ounce of sympathy, "for an adult woman with six men under her belt, you really should have a much higher alcohol tolerance."

"Oh, shut up. Be jealous in silence," Dominique snapped, wincing in pain.

Another peal of Stella's ringing laughter echoed from behind, hammering against her eardrums. Dominique, shuffling her bare feet across the floor and holding onto the wall, dragged herself to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her forehead against the cool tiles, trying to quell the nauseating dizziness. The mirror above the sink reflected a crumpled teenager's face with dark circles under her eyes and a bird's nest of fiery red hair.

She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Dominique turned the faucet, intentionally making the water almost ice-cold. The freezing streams hit her shoulders and back, forcing her to gasp and tense up, but it worked—the thick fog in her head slowly began to clear. She stood under the water for a few minutes, fiercely scrubbing her skin with a loofah until it was red, as if trying to wash away not just the sweat, but that lingering, cloying scent of the Elven booze.

Damn teenage metabolism, she thought angrily, tilting her face up into the cold streams. How was she supposed to know that the body of a fire fairy couldn't even process a single drop of hard alcohol?

Turning off the water, she rubbed herself dry with a fluffy towel and quickly pulled on her usual Earth jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. When Dominique walked back into the bedroom, Stella was still lounging on the bed, but she had already changed into a fresh, everyday outfit.

"So, feeling better, heartbreaker?" the Princess of Solaria didn't miss the chance to jab at her roommate again, critically eyeing her disheveled appearance.

"I'll live," Dominique tossed back dryly, running her fingers through her damp hair.

"Then let's go get lunch. My stomach is cramping like I haven't eaten in a week," Stella stretched and hopped off the bed.

They left the room and navigated the halls of Alfea. The bright midday sun streaming through the tall windows mercilessly assaulted her eyes, forcing Dominique to squint constantly. Stella walked beside her, her trendy heels clicking cheerfully as she hummed a happy little tune, clearly reveling in the contrast between her flawless condition and the "adult woman's" suffering.

The cafeteria was mostly empty; only a couple of tables were occupied, and the girls there barely paid them any mind. Dominique grabbed a tray and automatically loaded it with a plate of light vegetable salad and a large glass of lemon water, sensing that her rebellious stomach simply wouldn't tolerate anything heavier right now. They settled at an empty table by the panoramic window, and Dominique began poking at her greens with a fork, trying not to move her head unnecessarily.

Just then, Luma walked into the cafeteria with a confident stride. Unlike the crumpled, hangover-ridden freshman, the brunette looked completely refreshed, as if she had been drinking plain water the night before. Sweeping her gaze over the mostly empty room, she quickly spotted her friends sitting at a corner table and headed over.

"Hey, Stella. Varanda," she nodded amiably, dropping into an empty chair.

The girls returned short nods, though the motion made Dominique wince.

"How are you holding up, Varanda? You okay?" Luma asked with genuine concern, though a faint, sly twinkle danced in her eyes as she took in her neighbor's pale face.

Dominique drew a breath, preparing to assure her she felt phenomenal, but she didn't get a single sound out. Stella, who had been lazily sipping her juice, let out a loud, completely unabashed laugh, drawing the attention of a few students at neighboring tables.

"Oh, please! We've got a dying swan over here who remembers absolutely nothing from last night," the Princess of Solaria sold her out with unconcealed delight, leaning her elbows on the table. "How are your girls?"

"They're fine, what's gonna happen to them?" Luma chuckled. "Sleeping like the dead."

"Sleeping? The lazy brats, you should have dragged them out of bed and brought them here!" Stella threw her hands up in outrage, genuinely indignant at the injustice.

"Nah, let them sleep," the brunette waved it off carelessly. "Better for me anyway. At least no one was getting in my way while I worked. By the way, Varanda... You can pick up your dress."

The fork in Dominique's hand froze halfway to her mouth. The redhead slowly shifted a completely dumbfounded gaze to the smugly smiling girl.

"Already? That fast?" she asked in disbelief. "You only took the measurements last night..."

"Well, you asked for something simple," Luma shrugged lightly. "It was nothing, took a couple of hours. I woke up early this morning and got it all done."

Took a couple of hours? Dominique choked mentally. In her world, creating a custom tailored outfit took weeks of painstaking labor, dozens of fittings, and endless adjustments. Noticing her utterly baffled look, Stella sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

"Luma sews using magic, Varanda," the princess explained condescendingly. "You didn't think she sits there with a needle and does it all by hand, did you?"

Right. Dominique mentally delivered a ringing slap to her own face. She was still stubbornly clinging to Earthly logic, forgetting she was in a world where the laws of physics could be bypassed with a snap of one's fingers.

Finishing up the remnants of their lunch, the girls left the cafeteria and headed down the first-floor corridors to room 109. Inside, contrary to expectations, Angelica and Amelia were no longer asleep. The second-years were sitting on their unmade beds, surrounded by pillows, looking incredibly rough. However, the moment they noticed the trio walk in, a sly, ringing silence fell over the room.

"O-o-oh, look who decided to grace us with her presence," Amelia drawled wickedly, and both drinking buddies exchanged a look and burst into synchronized laughter, completely ignoring their obvious hangovers. "How's the head?"

"Fine," Dominique cut her off dryly, walking further into the room. "But I'm done with the experiments. Not a single drop more."

The girls on the beds laughed merrily again.

"Alright, knock it off," Luma waved her friends off with a smile. "Varanda, come here."

The brunette made a casual flick of her wrist, and a folded wooden screen shot out from under the far bed like a bullet. As if alive, it flew through the air and landed in the corner of the room with a soft clatter, smoothly unfolding its panels to form a small, enclosed fitting room.

"Let's try it on. If anything is wrong, I'll fix it right away," Luma commanded professionally, handing her a hanger.

Dominique stepped behind the partition and pulled off her clothes. The dress turned out to be stunning: it was made of thick material in a deep, dark blue hue, perfectly hugging her silhouette without a single unnecessary seam. Dominique also loved the high, closed neckline with its neat shoulder line, the short sleeves, and the skirt length that hit right at mid-thigh. No plunging necklines, rhinestones, or ruffles—exactly what she had asked for.

The moment Dominique slipped the dress on, Luma stepped behind the screen like she owned the place. Floating obediently in the air around the budding designer were several pairs of scissors, a flock of shiny needles, and a nimble yellow measuring tape. The girl wielded her magic effortlessly: the tape slithered like a snake around Dominique's waist, taking final measurements, while the needles stealthily pinched the fabric together wherever a perfect, form-fitting adjustment was needed.

"Done!" Luma snapped her fingers, and the screen obediently folded itself up, instantly flying back under the bed. "Well, Stella? What do you think?"

The Princess of Solaria immediately jumped over to them, circling Dominique and critically examining her friend, her eyes narrowed in evaluation.

"It fits perfectly," Stella finally delivered her verdict. "Though I would probably add a scatter of crystals along the hem of the skirt and, maybe, sew some silver thread into the bodice so it catches the light..."

"So, are we redoing it?" Luma perked up instantly, the floating scissors beginning to snap menacingly around her again.

"There is no need to redo anything!" Dominique was genuinely horrified.

All she wanted to do right now was get to her pillow, lie down, and not have a single living soul touch her for at least twenty-four hours. And these hyperactive fairies were about to start hacking away at the dress again, forcing her to stand there like a mannequin for God knows how long.

"I love everything exactly as it is," she added firmly, instinctively shielding her thigh from the magical scissors with her hands.

"Are you sure? We can make it even better!" Stella and Luma exchanged synchronized glances, clearly disappointed that their creative impulse had been so rudely shut down.

"Yes, I love it," Dominique repeated forcefully.

"It looks great on you, Varanda," Angelica chimed in from the bed, her eyes crinkling slyly. "How about we drink to the new outfit? We still have a little Elven brandy left in the bag..."

At the mere suggestion, Dominique instantly turned pale. A phantom, cloying lump rose in her throat again, and the acid-green liquid flashed vividly in her mind's eye. She shook her head frantically, taking a step back. The room exploded in unrestrained, girlish laughter once more.

Dominique pressed her lips into a tight line, feeling a dull irritation boiling inside her. She understood perfectly well that these brats were openly mocking her right now, rubbing yesterday's humiliation in her face. But she couldn't snap back and put them in their place like she would have without hesitation in her Earthly office. All she could do was stand there and silently swallow the mockery so as not to shatter her fake identity.

"Luma," Dominique turned to the brunette, looking at her work with genuine respect. "The dress is absolutely magnificent. How... how can I thank you?"

"Oh, stop it," the girl waved it off, beaming brightly. The satisfaction of having her creation so highly praised was written all over her face. "Consider it my welcome gift."

Dominique nodded gratefully.

"Thank you again, Luma. You are a true master," she said sincerely, turning toward the exit.

"Wear it in good health! And come back if you change your mind about the rhinestones!" the brunette called out cheerfully after her.

Stella was already standing by the half-open door, tapping the toe of her shoe impatiently against the floor.

"Alright, we're off," the Princess of Solaria gave the girls a graceful wave.

They walked in silence for a while. Stella thoughtfully twirled a golden lock of hair around her finger, and then, as if coming to a decision, turned to her roommate.

"Well, now you actually have something to wear to Magix," the princess stated with satisfaction, her heels clicking against the stone floor.

"Why would I go to Magix now?" Dominique furrowed her brows in confusion. "I already have the dress."

"What do you mean, why?!" Stella threw her hands up. "That's only one dress! Are you planning to spend all your time wearing either that, or those Earth rags you call jeans?"

Dominique slowed her pace, pondering the princess's words. The blonde was absolutely right. She really did want to replace her entire wardrobe, if that pathetic junk from Gardenia could even be called that. And the idea of going to Magix, seeing the local metropolis, and exploring this world beyond the school grounds seemed perfectly sound. There was just one small, but very significant problem.

"Stella, you know... I don't... have any money," Dominique forced out. For a woman used to operating with multi-million-dollar corporate accounts in her past life, admitting her own poverty was physically painful.

"And how is that your problem?" the princess asked in genuine surprise, batting her long eyelashes.

"It is a huge problem. Unless, of course, they just hand out free stuff to fairies in your stores out of a profound love for the arts," Dominique replied grimly.

Stella snorted, evidently picturing the concept of boutiques handing out free designer clothes.

"Did you forget that you have a princess best friend who owes you a debt?" Stella smiled patronizingly and nudged her lightly with her shoulder. "I told you back on Earth that I'd pay for everything."

"Stella..." Dominique frowned in displeasure and looked away.

She remembered the life debt perfectly well. And that was exactly why she absolutely did not want to use it right now. Letting the heir of Solaria buy her way out of such a massive obligation with some clothes and a pair of shoes? That would be the most incompetent deal she had ever made in her life.

"What 'Stella'?" the Princess of Solaria planted her hands on her hips, stopping in the middle of the hallway and blocking her path.

Noticing that her friend was drawing a breath, clearly preparing to object, the blonde decisively cut her off with a chop of her hand:

"We are going to Magix first thing tomorrow! And that's final!"

The faint, soft pink rays of the morning sun began to slowly crawl over the high spires of Alfea, bathing the courtyard in warm light and chasing away the night's shadows. Inside the deserted corridors of the school, silence reigned, broken only by the rhythmic click of heels. Griselda strode confidently across the stone slabs, her strict silhouette sharply defined in the bands of sunlight falling from the tall windows. As she approached the door with the plaque "207", the woman instinctively slowed her pace. Passing by Princess Stella's room, she froze for a fraction of a second and tilted her head toward the door, as if listening for sounds inside.

Hearing nothing, Griselda pursed her lips in displeasure and continued on her way. But she hadn't gone ten meters before the brisk clicking of another pair of heels reached her ears, approaching from around the corner. Griselda reacted instantly. She stepped soundlessly into the nearest deep alcove in the wall, and, with a faint ripple of magic, her figure seemingly dissolved into thin air. A second later, Princess Stella marched briskly past her hiding spot, completely oblivious. Griselda followed her with a stern, disapproving glare from over her glasses, and then, satisfied that the corridor was empty again, headed off in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, Stella confidently marched up to the door with the brass plaque "207" and threw it wide open. Crossing the threshold, she cast a displeased look around the room and stared at her roommate. Bloom was sitting on her bed, completely engrossed in reading a thick library tome.

"You're not even dressed yet?" Stella put her hands on her hips indignantly, eyeing her home t-shirt and jeans. "The bus leaves in twenty minutes, Bloom. Let's pick up the pace!"

Without waiting for an answer, the princess stepped forward and decisively snatched the book out of her hands. But the heavy tome slipped through Stella's fingers and hit the floor with a loud, hollow thud.

"Stella! Barbatea is going to skin me alive over this book!" Dominique instantly flew off the bed and rushed to pick up the tome, frantically checking if the pages had crinkled from the impact.

"Oh, she won't do anything to you," the princess waved it off carelessly. "Besides, we can just go to a bookstore in Magix and buy ten books like this. You can read them until your eyes pop out."

Dominique suddenly froze, remaining crouched on the floor with the book in her hands. She suddenly felt an intense urge to deliver a solid slap to the back of her own head. How could she not have thought of that? For some reason, her brain had locked onto the school library as the sole accessible source of knowledge about magic. But Magix was a massive city; it absolutely had to have normal bookstores. She could buy any literature she wanted, take notes in the margins, and read in the bathtub if she felt like it, without trembling over every bent corner in fear of the strict librarian.

She stood up, placed the book on her nightstand, and, walking over to her roommate, grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Stella, you are a genius," Dominique looked her straight in the eyes and smiled sincerely, without a drop of irony.

Stella blinked in confusion, clearly not expecting such an enthusiastic reaction to a casually tossed-off comment. But her bewilderment didn't last long. Her lips quickly stretched into a smug smile.

"Of course I'm a genius, everybody knows that!" the princess declared proudly, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flair.

And modest, too, Dominique chuckled internally, letting go of her shoulders.

She quickly pulled off her jeans and t-shirt, and carefully slipped into Luma's new dress. After a quick brush of her hair, she slid her feet into her old shoes, and they left the room.

"Is it okay that we're just leaving like this?" Dominique asked doubtfully as they descended the stairs to the first floor. "Without telling anyone?"

"Bloom, relax," Stella rolled her eyes. "Until the semester officially starts, we're left to our own devices. We can come and go as we please without reporting to anyone. The main thing is to make it back before curfew."

They exited the dormitory building and leisurely crossed the wide courtyard. The weather was fantastic: it was summer-warm, the bright morning sun bathing the pale stone paths in light, and a light, pleasant breeze gently tickled their skin. Dominique walked slightly behind the princess, enjoying the warmth. She turned around as they walked, sweeping her gaze over Alfea's majestic facade, and in that moment, she thought she saw a dark, strict shadow flash behind one of the tall second-floor windows.

Stella, noticing that her friend had fallen behind and was looking back, stopped as well and followed her gaze.

"What are you looking at? Yesterday?" the princess laughed loudly at her own joke.

"I think Griselda was up there," Dominique replied, not sharing her roommate's amusement in the slightest. The sensation of someone staring at her back was incredibly unpleasant.

"So?" The smile immediately slid off the princess's face, and she shrugged dismissively. "We aren't breaking any rules. Let her stare all she wants. Come on."

Stella nudged Bloom lightly with her shoulder, snapping her out of her stupor, and they walked confidently through Alfea's tall wrought-iron gates. Bloom felt the exact moment they passed under them—the invisible boundary rippled slightly on the surface, letting them out.

They took about ten steps down the paved path, and Dominique suddenly caught herself thinking that this whole situation felt rather bizarre. Walking on foot to a bus stop... In her past life, she had a personal driver and a luxurious fleet of executive cars. She hadn't used public transportation in an eternity. The girl cast a sideways glance at the blonde walking next to her. Why was the Crown Princess of an entire planet hoofing it to catch a bus?

"You know, back on Earth, it would be pretty weird to see a princess on a bus," Dominique broke the silence. She vividly imagined the scenario: if something like this happened in her old world, the internet would explode with photos in minutes, and every tabloid would run headlines about the royal highness mingling with the commoners and gracing public transit with her presence. "Don't you have, well... a car, or whatever you call a personal driver here?"

Stella snorted and giggled, clearly amused by the question.

"Here is my car," she extended her hand forward, showing off the glowing ring on her finger. "And, might I add, it's the fastest one in the entire Dimension."

"Portals?" Dominique guessed.

"Exactly," the princess nodded. "I can instantly travel to any place I've already been to with a single step." She looked back at the receding facade of the school and added: "Assuming, of course, there isn't a barrier in the way, like the one around Alfea."

"So we can get to Magix straight from here?" Dominique arched an eyebrow.

"We can," Stella agreed easily. "But then you'd miss all the best parts. And I want to see the look on your face when you see the city from above for the first time."

Dominique just chuckled, hiding a faint smile. Stella's behavior was blatantly childish, but on the other hand, turning down a free sightseeing tour of a new world would be stupid. They reached the bus stop. Stella reached into her purse for her datapad to check the arrival time, but it wasn't necessary. The air filled with a muffled humming sound, like a strong wind blowing through a massive wind tunnel.

Dominique looked up. A bus was smoothly descending toward the stop, but it looked nothing like its Earthly counterparts. It was an elongated silver carriage without a single hint of wheels, decorated with bright yellow stripes along its sides. It flew through the air without flaps, a tail, or anything else that by all logic should stabilize a flying craft. The bus simply glided through the sky as if pulled by an invisible string, gradually lowering its altitude. Only right beneath its underbelly was there a distorted shimmer, as if a dense stream of air was constantly circulating there.

Finally, the silver carriage settled above the landing pad. Dominique was hit with a rush of warm wind that tousled her red hair. The double doors slid open, and a flock of young girls with suitcases poured out, accompanied by adults. Stella watched them with an evaluating eye.

"Oh, the newbies are arriving," she noted.

Waiting for the path to clear, the girls climbed into the cabin and walked confidently to the very back. Dominique dropped into a seat and involuntarily let out a breath. The seats were incredibly comfortable—she literally sank into the soft upholstery, feeling her tense back muscles relax. A couple of minutes later, the doors closed, the bus gave a slight shudder, and smoothly lifted off the ground.

At that moment, Dominique probably looked like a country bumpkin seeing a metropolis for the first time. The views from the panoramic window were truly mesmerizing. The castle of Alfea gradually disappeared in the distance, and about ten minutes later, their bus smoothly merged into a dense stream of aerial traffic that she had previously only seen in sci-fi movies.

Some of the vehicles vaguely resembled high-end Earth sports cars—their contours looking like Bugattis, Lamborghinis, or Ferraris, just without wheels. Others looked more like nimble riverboats or streamlined mini-shuttles. All of it was flying in both directions, humming and changing lanes, creating a bustling but surprisingly orderly flow of traffic. Dominique leaned up slightly in her seat and looked down out the window. The traffic, it turned out, was strictly tiered. At the very bottom lay a perfectly smooth, wide road. But it looked quite lonely, considering absolutely no one was driving on it. Heavy, lumbering cargo haulers hovered about a meter above the asphalt, moving at the speed of standard Earth semi-trucks. In the middle tier, buses and large shuttles cruised confidently. And at the very top, in the "third aerial lane," as Dominique mentally dubbed it, those nimble sports cars zipped along, overtaking everyone else.

"Stella, what do you guys actually call your cars?" Dominique asked, not taking her eyes off the window.

"Whatever you want, really," the princess chuckled carelessly. "Cars, mobiles, aircars. It's different in every world, and everyone understands perfectly well what you mean, so don't sweat it. Although on Zenith they call it a 'shuttle'," Stella made air quotes and giggled.

"Interesting," Dominique drawled. "But what's the road at the bottom for if absolutely everyone flies?"

"What do you mean, what for?" Stella stared at her with mild confusion. "What are roads for on Earth?"

"We drive on them, but here..."

"Well, here we fly over them," Stella countered logically. "The road is just a marker for the route. You don't want a massive clunker like this," the princess rapped her knuckles expressively against the wall of the bus, "crashing right onto your head while you're taking a walk if it breaks down, do you?"

"I definitely do not..." Dominique started, and in the next second, the rest of her words simply got stuck in her throat.

The bus banked into a smooth turn, and Magix appeared in the panoramic window in all its glory. The metropolis was massive. It seemed to stretch from edge to edge across the entire visible horizon. The city shimmered with thousands of lights even in the bright light of day. Buildings of unimaginable shapes, impossible by the laws of Earth physics, reached into the sky: some resembled colossal translucent crystals, others were intricately twisted spirals, and some simply floated serenely in the air with no visible support whatsoever, connected by thin threads of bridges.

"Impressive, right?" Stella smiled in satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the genuine shock on her friend's face.

Dominique swallowed hard with a dry throat and slowly nodded.

"Yeah... That was worth it," she managed to say hoarsely.

Dominique struggled to keep her mouth shut, even though her jaw desperately wanted to hit the floor. Crossing the city limits, the bus began to smoothly descend, weaving through the dense traffic. Dominique stared wide-eyed at the futuristic buildings rushing past. The silver carriage slowed down noticeably, shifted into the lowest tier, and was now flying practically a meter above the pavement. Residential buildings, bright storefronts, and places that were clearly entertainment venues based on their neon signs flashed by.

And the flow of pedestrians below reminded her of Shibuya crossing in Tokyo during rush hour. Except, while on Earth it would be ordinary, unremarkable people, here there were plenty of representatives of diverse races that Dominique only knew about from fantasy novels.

When the bus stopped at a traffic light near a busy intersection, Dominique got a detailed look at a couple of elves standing on the sidewalk. An incredibly beautiful girl, looking as if she had stepped straight out of a high-end TikTok beauty blog. Her long, pointed ears twitched slightly as she shook her head emotionally, arguing a point with her companion. He was an elf as well, surpassing the looks of any known Earthly heartthrob.

Just then, a stocky short guy, about five feet tall, waddled up to them. Maybe he was human, maybe a dwarf—Dominique wasn't sure of anything anymore. Hopping up slightly, he brazenly yanked the elf girl's ear and bolted into the crowd. The beauty spun around, unleashed a furious tirade, and hurled some kind of green ball of magic at his retreating back.

Dominique didn't see what happened next; the bus smoothly pulled away, carrying them further toward the city center.

"Next stop is ours!" Stella suddenly pulled on her arm, interrupting her observations. "We need Radiance Boulevard, that's where all the best stores are!"

Dominique managed to tear her eyes away from the window and turned to the princess.

"Okay. You're my guide today."

"Oh, don't you worry!" Stella beamed, vibrating with anticipation for the shopping spree. "I am going to show you Magix in all its glory!"

 

[VitahAR]

The Boulevard of Radiance definitely lived up to its name. Even during the day, the numerous cafes and restaurants here didn't turn off their bright illuminations. Sparks flashed everywhere, magical effects shimmered and shifted in all sorts of colors, looking incredibly vivid and inviting even in the sunlight. The shop windows they passed by were bursting with three-dimensional holograms designed to lure in customers.

The moment the bus stopped and they stepped onto the sidewalk, the hum of the crowded street hit their ears. Dominique froze in place, her eyes wide as she stared at the passing creatures. Most of them were human, but many clearly belonged to other races. Elves and short beings—whom she mentally dubbed dwarves—flitted through the crowd. At one point, Dominique openly stared at a strange man with greenish skin and ears shaped like splayed fins. And when he walked past, she clearly saw deep slits behind his ears that looked suspiciously like gills.

Just then, she felt a noticeable shove on her shoulder and turned around. Stella was looking at her with a condescendingly patronizing smile.

"Stop staring like that, Bloom, or they'll think you've lost your mind," the princess giggled quietly.

"But he has gills," Dominique managed to squeeze out in bewilderment.

"Well, yeah," Stella nodded easily. "He's a triton, most likely from Andros. Naturally, he has gills."

"Gills," Dominique echoed, still trying to wrap her head around it.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, let's go!" Stella impatiently yanked her arm and dragged her along. "So he has gills, so what? Is that really the only thing that surprises you?"

"You know... Gills on a person surprise me a lot more than... that," she waved a hand toward a street musician who was intensely conducting an entire orchestra of instruments. Trumpets and violins were floating in the air all on their own, producing a surprisingly pleasant melody.

"Well, get ready to be even more surprised, then," anticipation rang in Stella's voice. "Because where we're going, you'll see things a lot crazier than that."

They walked down a wide street paved with slabs that shimmered in the sun. Endless shop windows stretched along both sides, displaying branded clothes, accessories, magical artifacts, potions, and other trinkets. One of them showcased the latest models of hovering scooters. In the next, a gorgeous aircar slowly rotated on an anti-gravity stand. Its sleek curves painfully reminded Dominique of a Bugatti—at least, it seemed that way to her. Naturally, it was a local model, and the brand was surely called something else, but the resemblance to the Earth sports car was striking.

Two million credits? Dominique saw the glowing price tag and shook her head slightly. She had no idea what the exchange rate of the local currency to the dollar was, but the number itself was enough to induce a mild stupor. Sure, in her past life, dropping two million on a ride that would just sit in the garage for status would have been as easy as sneezing. But now, with nothing but lint in her own pockets, such a sum felt like a cruel joke.

Another unceremonious shove to her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts about her own poverty. Stella again. What is her problem? A slight distraction, and she instantly resorts to shoving, Dominique ground her teeth mentally.

"Look, Specialists," Stella nodded enthusiastically toward four guys confidently walking down the street, practically splitting the crowd in two.

Dominique looked with curiosity at these infamous Specialists she had already heard so much about. The guys were decked out in form-fitting blue-and-white uniforms, with short blue capes fluttering behind their backs. A strange sword hilt hung at each of their belts—for some reason without the blade itself—along with a massive, futuristic-looking pistol. Dominique figured Earth sci-fi movies called weapons like that blasters.

"The one on the right is pretty cute. Wonder what his name is?" Stella instantly shifted into her favorite mode. Upon seeing handsome guys, the princess seemed to completely forget why they had come to the city in the first place.

"Stella," Dominique tugged on her sleeve. "We came here to shop, not to gawk at boys."

"Oh, come on!" the princess snorted. "Just look at how gorgeous he is. Maybe we should go introduce ourselves?"

"Are we here to shop or to pick up guys?" Dominique repeated pointedly.

"One doesn't exclude the other!" Stella shot back immediately.

"Whatever you say. But count me out," Dominique crossed her arms over her chest and pointedly turned away to face the aircar display. "I'll wait for you here."

"Bloom, you can't be such a boring prude!" Stella watched the guys walk by with disappointment, but still couldn't bring herself to abandon her friend in the middle of the street. "Fine. Let's keep going."

They crossed a busy road, above which aircars occasionally zoomed by with a hum, and found themselves in front of a large building. Dominique counted six, maybe seven floors. A giant holographic sign blazed on the gleaming facade: "Fashion Kingdom." A cozy square lay in front of the main entrance, featuring a fountain in the center. What spurted from it seemed to be pure magic: seven multi-colored streams of water intertwined in a spiral, forming a living, shimmering rainbow. This mesmerizing sight was accompanied by a pleasant, melodic babbling sound.

"We'll start with 'Fashion Kingdom'," Stella commanded. "It doesn't quite measure up to the boutiques on Solaria, obviously, but in Magix, this is the number one shopping center."

The princess marched confidently across the square, past the rainbow fountain, straight to the main doors.

"They even have the latest arrivals from my planet, so don't worry," Stella turned to her friend with an encouraging smile. "We'll dress you up top-tier."

As soon as they approached, the transparent glass doors slid apart silently, letting them inside. Stepping into the lobby, Dominique froze, taking in the incredible space. It was a literal magical mall. There was a sea of people: laughter, snippets of conversations, and the buzz of a lively crowd gathered around the sparkling displays echoed from everywhere.

"There's nothing interesting down here," Stella waved off the first floor carelessly. "We need the fourth. That's where they sell imports from Solaria."

Dominique dutifully followed the princess, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd while simultaneously examining the curiosities in the windows. In one of them, she spotted thin, iridescent devices that resembled Earth smartphones—the very datapads the locals used for communication. Dominique involuntarily shoved a hand into her pocket, brushing against her old, pathetic Earth push-button cell phone, which had turned into a useless piece of plastic here. She wanted a proper connection so badly it made her teeth ache, but her pride wouldn't allow her to ask Stella to buy her a datapad as well. It was one thing to accept clothes the princess had volunteered to pay for out of a sense of obligation, and another entirely to shamelessly play the role of a kept woman with a wishlist. Dominique shook her red hair, chasing away another depressing wave of realization of just how poor she currently was.

Meanwhile, they reached a spacious elevator that smoothly carried them up to the fourth floor in a matter of seconds. It was much quieter and calmer up here. The crowd had thinned out noticeably—apparently, the local prices weren't something everyone could afford. Looking around, Dominique realized the entire floor was dedicated to premium clothing boutiques. Stella only confirmed her guess, heading confidently toward the most pretentious-looking department, above which hung an elegant sign: "Enchanted Thread."

"Welcome to 'Enchanted Thread'," a tall, graceful sales consultant with perfectly styled hair and a professional smile sang out to greet them. "How may I help the Princess of Solaria and her... companion?"

She cast a quick, appraising glance over Dominique, and for a fraction of a second, barely concealed disdain flashed in her eyes at the sight of the old, scuffed Earth shoes, which, to put it mildly, clashed completely with the elegant dress Luma had made.

"We need to completely overhaul my friend's wardrobe," Stella declared with a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately, she lost her luggage during the flight. So we need something new, worthy of a princess. From the latest collections."

"Of course," the consultant bowed respectfully, her obligatory smile instantly becoming a fraction more genuine. "Please, allow me to show you our collection. Fresh arrivals straight from Solaria. Right this way, please."

They walked inside, and before Dominique could get a proper look around this sparkling kingdom of local fashion, Stella had already grabbed her hand and confidently dragged her toward the row of fitting rooms.

"Alright, ready for your fashion makeover?"

And, without waiting for an answer, the Princess of Solaria shoved her behind a luxurious velvet curtain and began darting between the racks with burning eyes, bringing back one outfit after another.

"Look, this one!" Stella triumphantly held up a dark pink dress generously dusted with glitter and some sort of translucent ruffles. "Perfect for parties! Can you imagine how you'll look in it? All the boys will lose their minds!"

Dominique, having already pulled off her dress, looked skeptically at the pink atrocity.

"Stella, it's... way too pink."

"So what? You love pink! Your whole bedroom at home is pink!"

"Ahem... It's still... too bright."

"Alright, fine," Stella didn't seem upset in the slightest; she hung the dress on a hook and immediately grabbed another. "Then this one!"

She presented an elegant coffee-colored dress made of flowing silk. The fabric looked phenomenally expensive, and the thin straps, studded with tiny crystals, gave the outfit a touch of sophistication. But there was one problem.

"Stella... It's too short."

"God, first it's too bright, then it's too short! There is no pleasing you!" the princess clicked her tongue in annoyance but didn't give up. "Then this blue one! A deep sapphire shade, it'll match your eyes perfectly! And the cut is strict, see? No ruffles, the length falls right to the mid-thigh. Flawless!"

Dominique took a closer look. This dress actually looked much better: a neat high collar, devoid of excessive decorations and rhinestones, somewhat similar to the one Luma had sewn for her. She nodded in satisfaction.

"I can try this one on."

"Perfect!" Stella beamed. "So we'll take it! Now try this one... and this one... Oh, and this one too!"

She kept hauling outfits over, and Dominique submissively retreated into the fitting room. The consultant trailed right behind them, constantly nodding and agreeing with Stella's every word in a syrupy voice. And why wouldn't she? When Dominique accidentally caught a glimpse of the price tag on one of the dresses, her own eyes nearly popped out of her head. A single dress cost as much as the brand-new scooter in the window they had passed earlier. For a dozen of these outfits, one could buy that luxurious two-million-credit aircar. Even in her past life, Dominique wouldn't have allowed herself to casually blow such sums on everyday rags.

But as one dress replaced another, Dominique had to admit: Stella knew what she was doing. The princess wasn't just blindly grabbing the shiniest, most expensive items off the racks—she was picking outfits that fit Bloom's figure perfectly, expertly accounting for her height, proportions, and even hair color. Every skirt, every blouse—it all fit flawlessly, as if tailored just for her. The only issue was that Dominique herself vastly preferred strict, formal attire. A classic black pencil skirt, a crisp white blouse, a blazer, shoes with a sensible heel. Yet Stella stubbornly dressed her in trendy flowing dresses, flared skirts, and tops with asymmetrical cutouts.

"Stella," Dominique finally snapped, stepping out of the fitting room in yet another stylish but overly frivolous outfit. "All of this is very pretty, of course, but I actually need clothes for studying. For school classes, not for a runway."

"Bloom, sweetie," Stella rolled her eyes like a martyr, setting a pair of sandals aside. "You are going to be studying at Alfea! The most prestigious school of magic! Everyone dresses with style there! You can't show up to class in some cheap blouses from the last century!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's a faux pas!" the princess threw her hands up in horror. "Did you forget? You are Princess Varanda! And you need to look the part of your status!"

Dominique let out a heavy sigh; arguing with Stella was pointless. And while the princess was distracted by the consultant, discussing the intricacies of the latest Solarian collection, Dominique noticed elegant racks of lingerie in the far corner of the department. She headed over, trying not to draw her loud friend's attention. Her hand slowly glided over the fabric of the finest, weightless silk. Deep black, dark navy, rich burgundy. No childish prints, strawberries, or ridiculous kittens—just breathtakingly delicate lace. She quickly picked out three sets of the most elegant dark lingerie and added them to the growing pile of clothes Stella had already selected to buy.

"Bloom!" the princess called out brightly from the other side of the room. "Where did you disappear to? Come here quickly, I found the absolute perfect shoes for that blue dress!"

Dominique walked back, masterfully projecting an expression of utter resignation to her fate.

Another hour of fittings passed. At least, that's what the elegant clock hanging above the department entrance indicated. But to Dominique, the time felt like an eternity. Over that hour, several dozen outfits had cycled through her. She was brutally exhausted and just wanted to eat. Stella, however, was truly tireless, zooming around the entire department without even breaking a sweat.

Finally, Dominique reached her limit.

"Stella, wait," she gently caught her friend's hand as Stella extended yet another dress to her with burning eyes. "I want to pick something out myself. Your clothes are very beautiful, but they are completely impractical for everyday wear."

Stella frowned, clearly about to voice her indignation, but Dominique kept going:

"Please. Just let me look for myself. I promise I'll pick something... cute."

The princess let out a heavy sigh, finally surrendering under her friend's gaze.

"Fine. But absolutely no gray or black! Deal?"

"Deal."

Dominique walked deeper into the store, to where the more formal pieces hung. Her attention was immediately caught by a red plaid skirt with black stripes, falling just above the knee. She pulled it off the hanger and draped it over her arm. Then, after looking around a bit, she added a blue plaid skirt of a similar cut. Next came a few classic blouses: white, pale blue, and beige. And then her eyes locked onto a dress made of thick, smooth turquoise fabric. It was sleeveless, with an elegant stand-up collar, ending mid-thigh.

"This one too," she said, taking it off the rack.

Stella, who had been watching her the whole time with the expression of a prison warden, curled her lip skeptically.

"Well, I don't know, Bloom. It's a bit too plain. It's not even from the new collection."

"Stella, I need clothes for classes, not just for going out into the city."

The princess clearly wanted to argue some more, but Dominique had already vanished behind the fitting room curtain. She changed quickly, zipped up the hidden side zipper, and smoothed out the fabric. When she stepped out in front of the mirrors, Stella stopped mid-sentence. The dress fit perfectly. The strict lines flatteringly accentuated her slender figure, and the deep turquoise color contrasted gorgeously with her fiery red hair.

"Okay," Stella breathed out, unable to hide her surprise. "I take my words back. It looks... not bad at all. Actually, really good! We're taking it! And these sandals to go with it!"

She darted over to the shoe display and returned instantly with a pair of elegant, low-heeled sandals. They were turquoise, with thin straps, perfectly matching the dress. Dominique didn't even bother changing back. She simply slipped her feet into the new sandals, and tossed her old Earth rags—shoes included—straight into the nearest trash bin.

"Alright," Stella rubbed her hands together enthusiastically, surveying the impressive mountain of clothes they had ultimately gathered. "Now we pay and keep moving! We still need accessories!"

"Stella, maybe that's enough for today?" Dominique pleaded. "I wanted to stop by the bookstore, too..."

"Enough?" Stella looked at her like she was insane. "Bloom, we're not even half done! We need bags, jewelry... And your bookstore isn't going anywhere."

"Stella..."

"No 'Stellas'!" the princess marched resolutely toward the register. "Move it!"

After a few more hours of a grueling shopping marathon—and the tireless Stella really did drag her through three more boutiques, two accessory shops, and one beauty salon—they finally slumped down at a table in an outdoor cafe, draped in rustling shopping bags. Dominique collapsed into the wicker chair with incredible relief. Her feet were screaming mercilessly, even though the new sandals had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable. Stella, on the other hand, looked as spry and fresh as if they had just taken a fifteen-minute stroll through a park.

"Now that was a day!" the princess beamed, carefully arranging her numerous bags around her chair. "I haven't gone on a proper shopping spree in so long!"

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," Dominique muttered exhaustedly.

"Yeah. And if it wasn't for that cow," Stella's face stretched in displeasure, "it would have been absolutely perfect."

Dominique couldn't help but wince, recalling the "cow" they had managed to bump into at the last boutique. As they say, nothing foreshadowed disaster. Having paid up in yet another department of overpriced rags, they headed for the exit, loaded with bags. Stella was walking in front, and from her angle, Dominique didn't even quite catch how it happened. Either the princess simply didn't notice the girl walking toward her, or she assumed the girl was obligated to yield the right of way, but they collided head-on in the narrow aisle between the racks.

Stella gasped and dropped some of her bags, which hit the glossy floor with a rustle. And then it started. Instead of offering a basic apology, helping pick up the bags, and going their separate ways, the stranger just had to blurt out:

"Too wide to fit? Watch where you're going."

Dominique took a good look at the sudden brute. It was a striking girl with a short, asymmetrical bright-red haircut, gathered into a funny little ponytail at the crown. She was wearing a stylish, tight crop top showing off a flat stomach, and light jeans with a wide leather belt. She was casually clutching an expensive designer handbag.

Stella, who had just bent down for a bag, froze as if struck by lightning. Over the few days they had spent together, Dominique had studied her roommate's character well enough. Stella was actually quite easy-going and took jokes directed at her reasonably well—about her weight, her looks, even her intellect. But only as long as those jokes came from people she knew and were clearly said in a friendly manner.

Any rudeness from strangers, however, even thrown out casually, was met with extreme hostility and acted on the princess like a red rag to a bull.

"Are you talking to me?" Stella slowly straightened up.

"Do you see anyone else here?" the redhead shot back brazenly.

The stranger was already about to walk away, but Stella literally gasped at such audacity. She lunged forward, grabbed the girl by the elbow, and forcefully spun her around.

"Are you completely insane?" the princess hissed. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to right now? Apologize. Now."

"What?" the redhead yanked her arm free. "You bumped into me, and I'm supposed to apologize? Go see a doctor, girlfriend. You've clearly got something wrong with your head."

"I am not your girlfriend," Stella was breaking out in red splotches of sheer anger. "I'm telling you one last time: apologize, while I'm still feeling generous."

The stranger only snorted contemptuously at the demand.

"Listen, you... psycho. I suggest you back off before I call security."

"Stella, calm down," Dominique finally decided to step in, seeing that things were about to escalate. "They're just going to kick us out of here. Do you really need a scandal?"

"Kick us out?" Stella laughed loudly enough for the whole department to hear. "They'll kick her out, not us! Hey, you... Security! Come over here!"

Two burly security guards in sharp suits rushed over immediately.

"Is there a problem, miss?"

"Yeah! This crazy chick latched onto me and won't let me leave!" the red-haired girl managed to speak first, pointing a finger at the blonde.

"Crazy?" Stella smirked ominously and slowly pulled off the massive sunglasses she had bought half an hour ago. "Do you even know who I am?"

The guards exchanged a look. How could they not know their most frequent and generous client?

"Of course, we know you... Your Highness," one of them bowed his head slightly.

"Well, do you realize who you're mouthing off to now?" Stella was clearly relishing the effect, watching her opponent's face fall. "I demand an immediate apology. And then you can get lost."

"I am a future fairy!" the redhead lifted her chin, quickly recovering from the shock. "And just because you're a princess doesn't give you the right to humiliate other people!"

"I, in case you didn't know, am also a fairy," Stella snorted. "And this isn't humiliation. This is just teaching a brute some basic manners."

"You bumped into me..."

"Miss, we strongly advise you to apologize to Her Highness, the Princess of Solaria, and part peacefully," the first guard intervened firmly, deliberately announcing Stella's full title loudly.

The red-haired girl's jaw clenched.

"So what if she's the Princess of Solaria? I'm from Cosmosia, and I'm not obligated to bow down to her!"

Meanwhile, Dominique, who was silently observing this circus from the sidelines, noticed the second guard suddenly frown and press a finger to his ear—he was evidently receiving direct instructions from management over an earpiece.

"Miss, this is an elite establishment," he said in an icy tone, addressing the redhead. "If you do not apologize this exact second, we will be forced to blacklist you."

Dominique shifted her gaze to the girl from Cosmosia. The situation was crystal clear. Apparently, regardless of who was actually at fault for the collision, the boutique's management had already made the only correct business decision: side unconditionally with the bottomless wallet of the Princess of Solaria.

"Fine," the redhead squeezed out through tightly clenched teeth, realizing she had lost. "I apologize. Can I go now?"

"Be my guest," Stella waved her off haughtily, having lost all interest. "Is anyone keeping you?"

The girl shot them both a devastating glare and practically bolted out of the boutique, slamming the glass door behind her.

"Bloom, did you fall asleep?" the princess's dissatisfied voice yanked Dominique from her memories, bringing her back to reality at the outdoor cafe table. "What are you ordering?"

Dominique looked up at the waitress, who was standing by their table, waiting for their order with a polite, professional smile. The girl cast a quick glance at the holographic menu, and finding not a single familiar Earth name, decided to simply trust the princess's taste.

"Whatever you're having."

"Two slices of 'Moonlight' cake," Stella dictated without a second of hesitation. "And two 'Stardust' cocktails. With extra stars!"

"Coming right up," the waitress nodded and hurried back to the counter.

Literally a couple of minutes later, a miniature girl about twelve inches tall, with her hair pulled back into a strict bun, hovered above their table. She was wearing a flowing green dress, and translucent little wings fluttered rapidly behind her back. Dominique was so startled that she didn't even immediately notice the silver tray floating in the air, from which their order gracefully drifted up one by one, landing gently right in front of them.

"Your order. Enjoy your meal!" the tiny creature squeaked out, instantly fluttering away to the next table.

"Was that... a fairy?" Dominique finally found her voice once the little one had vanished, watching her go with a bewildered stare.

Stella burst into ringing laughter, nearly knocking over her tall cocktail glass.

"Bloom, you are a fairy. I am a fairy," Stella choked out through her laughter. "That flying little thing is a pixie."

"This world never ceases to amaze me," Dominique drawled with a wry smile.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," the princess snorted carelessly. "Eat your cake. Mmm..."

Dominique let out a heavy sigh and decided she'd had enough adventures for one day. A quick bite, and then home—meaning, to Alfea. She picked up a delicate dessert spoon and focused on her food. The cake looked incredible: the light blue sponge was generously covered in a pearlescent glaze that shimmered exactly like real moonlight on water. And the cocktails... small, edible stars floated inside the tall, frosted glasses, glowing from within with a soft golden light.

Dominique tried the cake, and it was divine. The light, airy sponge with the most delicate cream literally melted on her tongue. The cocktail turned out to be amazing as well—ice-cold, with an unexpected flavor of caramel and berry marmalade. And the glowing stars crunched satisfyingly between her teeth, leaving a pleasant aftertaste.

"Well?" Stella was happily devouring her own dessert. "Good?"

"Yes," Dominique admitted honestly. "Very."

They finished their cakes and drained their cocktails. Stella chattered non-stop the entire time—about the latest fashion trends, her grandiose plans for the school year, and the guys from Red Fountain. Dominique listened with half an ear, nodding at the right moments and enjoying a minute of physical rest.

"We should go," Stella finally said, glancing at the clock. "The bus leaves soon."

They grabbed their numerous purchases and headed for the bus stop. The trip back to school along the same route didn't give Dominique the same 'wow' effect as the first ride. Her brain was overloaded with impressions and refused to be amazed by levitating cars anymore. They got off at the Alfea stop and, passing through the barrier, entered the school. However, once inside their room, instead of the rest Dominique so desperately craved, act two of this endless day began immediately: unpacking.

Her bed was instantly buried under a mountain of bags from expensive boutiques—both her own modest purchases and the pompous outfits Stella had insisted on.

"Come on, show me!" the princess exclaimed impatiently, flopping down heavily onto her own bed. "I'm telling you, that yellow ruffled dress would have looked perfect on you too! You're just too shy to wear bright colors!"

With a sigh, Bloom began pulling the outfits out one by one, hanging them over the back of the chair or laying them out on the bed.

"Stella, you've already seen all of this."

"So?" the princess got comfortable, resting her cheek on her hand. "I want to see them again. It's like my own personal fashion show..."

Dominique finished pulling her purchases from the bags and started hanging the clothes in the closet. The bright and sparkly things Stella had picked out were mercilessly shoved into the deepest, darkest corner—for "special occasions." The clothes she had bought herself—the plaid skirts, classic blouses, and elegant turquoise dress—she hung right up front, so they'd be easy to grab for daily wear. Having finished sorting, she collapsed exhaustedly onto the bed. Finally, this endless, exhausting day was over.

"Tired?" Stella asked sympathetically, watching her suffer.

"Very."

"Don't worry, you'll build stamina!" the princess let out a sweet yawn. "You know, shopping is a workout just like magic. You need endurance!"

"I'm sure you're the undisputed champion in that," Dominique mumbled, closing her eyes.

"Of course!" Stella proudly raised her chin. "I can shop all day long! And sometimes two days in a row!"

Dominique just groaned quietly in response, burying her face in the pillow.

"Alright, alright, I won't torture you anymore," Stella chuckled, standing up and stretching. "I'm going to grab a shower. You get some rest."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and a blissful silence finally settled over the room, broken only by the sound of running water. Dominique rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. The day had been incredibly draining, but, to be honest, unexpectedly productive. Even though she never made it to the bookstore, she had seen the real Magix. She had seen how this strange world lived, seen magic woven into ordinary, everyday life.

And it was... damn interesting.

------------

Author's Note: Whoever guesses the red-haired fairy gets a cookie.

 

[VitahAR]

Barbatea strolled unhurriedly between the towering library bookshelves. With a familiar gesture, she ran her hand along the spines of ancient tomes, subtly nudging them so they aligned perfectly. Glancing up at the top tier, the librarian noticed a thick encyclopedia jutting out of line. A short flick of her wrist, and the heavy book obediently glided back into its rightful place, flush with the rest. With a satisfied hum, she shifted her gaze to the antique grandfather clock. The hands were inexorably inching toward nine. Technically, she should have closed the reading room an hour ago, but...

Barbatea walked over to her desk and looked deep into the hall. There, at one of the farthest tables, still sat the reason she had been violating her own schedule for several days in a row. Princess Varanda of Callisto. A surprisingly inquisitive, polite, and well-mannered girl. It was just a pity her choice of company was so inappropriate. Remembering that the new girl shared a room with the rambunctious Princess Stella, Barbatea found herself feeling a slight pang of pity for the child. The girl had awakened her magic so late, and now she was forced to catch up with such desperate diligence. Most likely, it would be her noisy, frivolous roommate who would lead her down the wrong path. Stella, with her endless parties and outfits, simply wouldn't let her study in peace.

However, the thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Barbatea was not a sentimental woman, and besides, years of working at Alfea had taught her the golden rule: never meddle in others' business. She was ready to help the young princess with her knowledge, find the right books, and explain obscure terms, but not teach her life lessons. The girl had parents and her own mind for that. The librarian announced her presence with a soft, tactful cough, stepped out from behind the shelves, and approached the reading table.

"Princess Varanda, it is already nine o'clock. It's time for me to close the library," Barbatea said gently. "And it is long past time for you to rest."

"I'm sorry, did I lose track of time again?" Dominique jumped, surfacing from the text, and cast a quick glance at her cheap Earth cell phone. The time on the screen had indeed ticked past nine in the evening.

"It's nothing to apologize for. I wish all my students shared your zeal," the librarian smiled warmly. "But heed my advice: do not try to swallow all knowledge at once. You have a whole academic year ahead of you; there will be plenty of time. If you continue to study with this level of dedication, you will not only catch up with the others, but easily surpass them."

"Thank you," Dominique nodded. She carefully closed the thick tome, looking at the cover with obvious regret. "I really can't take it with me? I promise I'll finish it by morning and return it safe and sound."

"I'm sorry, but rules are rules. I am not authorized to let certain rare editions leave the reading room," Barbatea firmly took the book and headed back to her desk. "Go get some rest, Varanda. Tomorrow is the welcoming ceremony, after all. Are you ready to meet your new roommates?"

"Stella alone is a handful," Dominique smirked ironically, gathering her few notes. "I can't even imagine the chaos when three more show up in that room."

Barbatea laughed softly, setting the book on her desk.

"Trust my experience, Varanda, right now it feels like a disaster. But in a month, you won't be able to imagine your life without them. Student dormitories have a very special kind of magic. I still exchange letters on holidays with the girls I once shared a room with. Good night."

"Good night, Madam Barbatea."

Dominique walked out the doors and took a slow stroll toward her room. The librarian's words were a stark reminder of reality: her short, relatively peaceful time was inexorably coming to an end. All these recent days, right after that insane shopping spree in Magix, she had been living at a frantic pace. She spent half her days buried in the reading room, trying to grasp the basic structure of the Magical Dimension, figuring out what this magic even was and the laws it operated under. The rest of her time was spent managing the restless Stella and chatting with the girls from Room 109, with whom she had struck up a pleasant, friendly rapport.

Why are there only twenty-four hours in a day? She was desperately short on time.

Dominique climbed the wide staircase to the second floor, her eyes tracking a flock of chirping girls with suitcases whom she was seeing for the first time. Alfea was rapidly coming alive; the once-empty corridors were now filling with students, ringing laughter, and bustle. However, her and Stella's room was still exclusively their territory. And that meant someone was moving in tomorrow, and the fragile illusion of peace she had grown accustomed to would completely evaporate. After all, just this morning at breakfast, Griselda had personally reminded them that the official welcoming ceremony in the ballroom was on Sunday evening, and attendance was strictly mandatory for absolutely everyone. And on Monday... Well, on Monday, Dominique would face something she never expected to return to: sitting at a school desk.

"What, did you get kicked out?" Stella smirked wickedly the second Bloom crossed the threshold. The princess was lounging on her bed, lazily flipping through a glossy fashion magazine. "I thought you were just going to sleep there."

"I would have loved to," Dominique kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed with a satisfied sigh. "But then I thought: how would you survive without me? So I came back."

"Aren't you just a caring sweetheart," the princess giggled brightly. "If you were a guy, I'd totally..."

"Oh no, I'm deaf! I hear nothing!" Dominique immediately pulled a pillow over her head. "Keep your sexual fantasies to yourself, please."

"What fantasies, Bloom! Coincidences like this just don't happen. Think about it: you're a Sagittarius, and I'm a Leo. We're a perfect match! We met in the park, and you bravely saved me from a troll. I even met your parents. I'm a rich princess, and you're a simple guy from Earth..." Stella's voice took on a deep, sultry tone, like she was reading the voiceover for a cheap soap opera. "Just think about it, Bloom. So many signs. It's like destiny itself brought us together, like we were... meant for each other."

"Yeah, except there's one tiny nuance," Dominique popped out from under the pillow, turned to her friend, and expressively held up her thumb and index finger to show the size of said nuance. "I am missing the specific equipment you're currently fantasizing about."

"Ugh, you're so vulgar! I wasn't thinking about anything like that," Stella beamed radiantly. "I'm thinking about an elevated, pure romance, not dirty things!"

"Uh-huh. And that's exactly why you've brought up the guys from Red Fountain seventeen times today alone," Dominique countered.

"You counted?" Stella propped herself up on her elbows in surprise. "Why?"

Dominique shrugged indifferently. "I don't know. Pure curiosity."

"You have weird interests," the princess snorted. "You have zero interest in guys yourself, yet you sit there counting how many times I talk about them. Listen, are you... a guy in disguise? Like in that movie where a guy pretends to be a girl to get a job?"

Dominique stared at her roommate, realizing the conversation had taken a wildly bizarre turn. Stella had such masterful control of her voice and intonation that it was absolutely impossible to tell if she was spouting this nonsense seriously or just brilliantly trolling her. For a second, Dominique even wondered if the princess had managed to knock back a few drinks while she was at the library. But noticing the slight tremor in the blonde's shoulders, she realized Stella was using every ounce of her willpower to keep from bursting into laughter.

"God, Stella. Have you ever tried writing romance novels? I feel like with your imagination, you'd be a natural," Dominique scoffed.

"I tried," Stella waved it off dismissively. "It's boring. You have to write words, think up a plot..."

"Thank God. That means the Dimension is safe from your literary masterpieces," Dominique stretched and pulled off her dress. "Alright, princess. Lights out. Tomorrow is a hard day."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say. Good night, my mysterious Earth prince," Stella burst into giggles, tossing the magazine aside, and snapped her fingers. The lights went out, and a minute later, silence hung in the room, broken only by the steady rhythm of their breathing.

The morning began with uncharacteristic noise and clatter. Dominique yawned, stretched luxuriously, and rubbed her eyes. The corridor outside their door was a madhouse: heavy footsteps, slamming doors, ringing voices, laughter, and excited shouts. Throwing off the blanket, the girl walked to the door in just her underwear and cautiously peeked into the hallway. Outside the rooms to the right and left, it was pure chaos. Excited girls with suitcases she'd never seen before darted back and forth.

Closing the door, she walked over to the panoramic window, casting a glance at Stella on the way. The princess had wrapped herself entirely in her blanket and covered her head with a pillow for good measure, desperately trying to block out the noise. Wincing at the bright beam of sunlight hitting her eyes, Dominique looked out. As she had suspected, the wide courtyard in front of Alfea's facade was packed with people and transport. Young girls, accompanied by their dressed-up parents, were chattering animatedly, saying their goodbyes, hugging, and unloading mountains of luggage.

Dominique turned away from the bustling spectacle and headed for the shower. She had already successfully slept through breakfast, and lunch was still a long way off, so she needed to at least wake herself up. After getting ready and putting on one of her new outfits, she ruthlessly shook the grumbling Stella awake. Once the princess had finally gotten out of bed and made herself presentable, they walked outside together.

"So? Why are we out here?" Stella cast a supremely displeased look over the noisy crowd, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

"Aren't you at all curious who they're going to put in our room?" Dominique arched an eyebrow.

They strolled leisurely toward Griselda, who was standing at the main entrance like an insurmountable, formidable guardian, personally vetting every girl trying to get inside. The inspector was interrogating another freshman when Dominique and Stella quietly slipped behind the nearest column.

"Eleonora of Dolona, you say?" Griselda glared sternly over her glasses at a pale fairy who was nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"Y-yes, Eleonora..." the fairy nodded frantically, clearly feeling very small under that gaze.

"I heard you. Don't be so nervous, my dear..." Griselda ran a long finger down the glowing list on her tablet and gave a curt nod. "Eleonora of Dolona. You're on the list. You may pass. Your room is 203."

"Thank you!" the girl squeaked and, grabbing two massive suitcases, practically sprinted through the school doors.

Dominique watched her go thoughtfully. Two-oh-three? That meant she'd be living very close, practically right next door. Almost a neighbor. Her thoughts were interrupted by an unceremonious shove to the shoulder from Stella.

"Look. Is that her?"

Dominique followed the princess's gaze and instantly recognized the redhead they had clashed with at the mall yesterday.

"If she ends up being our roommate, I am strangling her in her sleep tonight," Stella hissed viciously.

Dominique pursed her lips, completely agreeing in spirit. Obviously not about the strangling part, but if that arrogant brat ended up in their room, their lives would get seriously complicated. And it wasn't just the risk of exposing her secret. She had absolutely no desire to listen to constant screaming matches, and she didn't doubt for a second that they would be a daily occurrence. It would fray her nerves and ruin her studying.

Meanwhile, it was the redhead's turn.

"I am Amaryl, from Cosmosia..." she began confidently.

"I am Amaryl, from Cosmosia," Stella mocked quietly but venomously from behind the column. "Eraklyon's mattress."

"Meaning?" Dominique asked, confused.

"Cosmosia is a moon of Eraklyon," Stella explained casually. "Remember I told you why my arranged marriage to Prince Sky of Eraklyon fell apart?"

"Yeah. Your dad didn't want to get dragged into some political mess on Eraklyon."

"That was the exact mess," the Princess of Solaria nodded grimly. "Cosmosia wanted autonomy. They fought a war of independence against Eraklyon for almost two years. Until Erendor stepped in and crushed them. So they spilled all that blood for nothing: they were Eraklyon's pathetic colony, and they still are."

"Your room is 205, Miss Amaryl. You may pass," Griselda's strict voice reached them.

"Damn, that's way too close," Stella grimaced.

"Well, at least she isn't in our room," Dominique noted philosophically, feeling a colossal wave of relief.

"For sure. Otherwise, I'd get kicked out of school again. This time for aggravated murder," the princess joked darkly.

And Dominique desperately hoped it was actually just a joke. An angry Stella was utterly unpredictable.

"Let's go back, I'm sick of standing here," Stella turned away from the entrance in disgust.

Dominique scanned the crowd at the main gates. They could be standing here for another two hours while the meticulous Griselda processed all the newbies. It really was better to head back and wait for their future roommates in peace. The girls returned to their room, shutting the door firmly behind them. Stella kicked off her shoes in annoyance and dropped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I hate this circus," the princess grumbled, her face buried in the pillow, her voice muffled and incredibly gloomy. "Everyone squealing, hugging... What if we get stuck with hysterical psychos like that redhead from Cosmosia? We'll go crazy, Bloom."

Dominique, who had just sat down on the edge of her bed, suddenly froze.

"Stella..." she said in an ice-cold tone. "Repeat what you just said."

"That we'll go crazy?" Stella turned her head, blinking her long eyelashes in confusion.

"No. Before that. What did you just call me?"

The princess frowned, replaying the sentence in her head, and suddenly paled slightly, biting her lower lip guiltily.

"Oops."

"Yeah, 'oops'," Dominique stood up abruptly and walked to the window, crossing her arms nervously. "Stella, we need to agree on exactly how we're going to lie."

Stella rolled onto her back and shrugged lightly.

"We just tell them the same thing we told Griselda. That you're Princess Varanda of Callisto, period. What's the problem?"

"Griselda is one thing. She checked the papers and forgot about us," Dominique pressed her lips together in annoyance. "But these girls will be living with us twenty-four-seven, talking to us, listening to our conversations. And if you slip up out of habit and call me Bloom... Just tell them it's my childhood nickname. Got it?"

Imagining the prim, serious Crown Princess of Callisto being called "Bloom" as a child, Stella couldn't hold back. She snorted into her hand, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Alright," she choked out through a giggle, sitting up and wiping away a tear of amusement. "Childhood nickname. Deal."

"This isn't a joke," Dominique sighed heavily, walking back to her bed. "We need a solid cover story. The fact that my magic awakened late and I don't know much about local customs—that's fine, that's believable. But Earth—not a single word. Under any circumstances."

"I get it! Calm down already," Stella waved her off.

"Fine, sorry," Dominique rubbed her temples. "Just nervous."

"I can tell," Stella smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, I am the picture of persuasion. No one will suspect a th—"

She didn't finish. Out in the corridor, right outside their door, came the loud thud of a heavy suitcase dropping, a muffled "oops," and then the metal door handle clicked down. The door slowly opened, and a girl with a pleasant olive complexion and long brown hair stood hesitantly on the threshold. She was wearing a green short-sleeved blouse that showed off a flat stomach, a bright pink skirt heavily printed with strawberries, and pink high-heeled sandals.

Dominique, sitting on the bed, groaned internally. Girl, have you ever heard of color coordination? Isn't that a bit too much pink? Recently—specifically since arriving in the world of this stupid cartoon—Dominique had developed a persistent, almost physical allergy to the color pink in all its manifestations.

Noticing the room wasn't empty, the girl looked slightly flustered and glanced behind her, where two more figures were already looming.

"Is this 207?" she asked the room's occupants in a pleasant, soft voice.

"Sure is," Stella nodded, propping herself up on her elbows. "Are you moving in?"

The girl with the brown hair beamed with relief.

"Yes, they told us to take 207. So, it looks like we'll be roommates," she stepped over the threshold and carefully set her suitcases on the floor. "I'm Flora, by the way."

"Flora?" Stella giggled and shot Dominique a mocking look. "I'm Stella, Princess of Solaria. And this is Varanda, Princess of Callisto."

"Wow. Two princesses?" Flora was taken aback. Her genuine smile instantly dimmed, becoming a bit strained and stiff. The average girl clearly hadn't planned on rooming with royalty.

"Oh, don't be so shy, we're normal girls!" Stella jumped off the bed easily and walked over to Flora, peeking over her shoulder into the hallway. "Who else is there? Are you with us too?"

"Yep, yep. Make way, Flora," a brisk voice rang out.

The strawberry girl was unceremoniously pushed aside, and a girl with blue-black hair tied in two short, spiky pigtails confidently strode into the room. Massive over-ear headphones hung around her neck, leaking a faint, rhythmic beat. The new girl was wearing an asymmetrical one-shoulder red top, ridiculously baggy blue pants with an extremely low waist, and bright red sneakers. Flora let out a quiet squeak, getting completely out of the way.

"I'm Musa," the headphone girl introduced herself shortly, scanning the room and its inhabitants.

"And I'm Tecna," the last girl squeezed through the doorway. "Nice to meet you."

Dominique looked over the trio of newcomers with curiosity, but her attention immediately zeroed in on the last one. Hovering silently over Tecna's shoulder was a round, metallic drone the size of a tennis ball, its glowing lens continuously swiveling in all directions. And behind her back, defying gravity, two sleek silver cases floated smoothly through the air. Tecna herself, with her short asymmetrical haircut, was dressed in a two-tone green and purple vest, thick purple leggings, and platform shoes. But what interested Dominique the most was her wrist: it sported a device that looked like a smartwatch, only vastly bulkier and more complex than any model Dominique had ever seen in her past Earth life. This girl had clearly arrived from some highly technological world, and that instantly piqued Dominique's pragmatic interest.

"I'm Stella. And Varanda," the Princess of Solaria repeated, gesturing gracefully toward her red-haired roommate.

"We've already heard about you," Musa smirked, casting a mocking glance up and down the blonde.

"Only good things, I hope?" Stella smiled flirtatiously, adjusting her hair.

"Yeah, right," Tecna scoffed. "Professor Griselda gave us a very detailed briefing at the entrance. She said it was thanks to you that potion classes were canceled for a whole week last year."

"Exactly," Musa chimed in, a shadow of an openly sarcastic smile touching the corner of her lips. "I just hope that the next time you decide to blow something up, you give us at least a little heads-up so we can hide under our beds."

"Oh, come on, that was a pure accident!" Stella pouted indignantly.

"Because of that 'accident,' you were actually expelled from the school," Tecna stated drily.

With a practiced gesture, she ran her fingers over the screen of her wrist gadget, and a crisp holographic screen projected right into the air. It displayed an article from some local newspaper featuring a bright photo of the princess, the large headline unambiguously screaming about the expulsion of the Solarian heir from Alfea.

"How did you even manage to get back in?" Tecna swiped the hologram away, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Well, how could they say no to a beauty like me?" Stella positively glowed with smugness, doing a graceful twirl.

Dominique, watching the scene silently from her bed, just snorted quietly, not even wanting to guess how much the return of this "beauty" had cost the Solarian treasury.

"Alright, girls, let's get settled first, and then we can finish the introductions," Tecna surveyed the room with a businesslike air. "How many beds in total?"

"Five," Stella answered, waving a hand toward the empty side of the room. "Varanda and I already took these two. Take your pick of the rest."

"I'll take the one by the window," Flora immediately piped up, heading toward the sun-drenched bed. "My plants need a lot of sunlight."

"I don't care," Musa shrugged indifferently and casually tossed her backpack onto the bed near the bathroom entrance. "This one works."

Tecna nodded silently and walked to the last available bed, the one closest to the door. Her floating suitcases obediently trailed behind her.

"Perfect spot," she muttered under her breath. "The shortest route to the exit in case of an emergency evacuation."

"Evacuation?" Flora echoed, turning from the window with obvious alarm in her voice.

"It was a joke," Tecna replied in an absolutely deadpan tone.

"You're a terrible comedian," Musa snorted, pulling her headphones down around her neck.

The door shut tightly, and Room 207 buzzed with activity. Tecna wasted no time. Her floating suitcases landed on the bed, snapping open a second later, literally burying the bedspread in an assortment of gadgets: microchips, bundles of multicolored cables, and screens. The fairy of technology immediately set to work turning her corner into a branch of a cutting-edge computer center, deftly assembling devices and neatly routing cables along the wall.

Musa quickly set up a small, stylish audio system next to her bed. The speakers pulsed with a soft light, filling the room with a pleasant, relaxing beat, after which the girl began carelessly tossing her clothes onto the closet shelves. Flora, on the other hand, just opened her suitcases at first, and then suddenly let out a frightened squeak.

"Oh! I completely 'forgot'!" and without explaining, she darted back out into the corridor.

A moment later, she returned, carefully carrying two pots with plants that looked like exotic flowers with iridescent leaves and buds. The moment Flora brought them into the room, a thick, incredibly pleasant aroma of tropical fruits and freshly cut grass filled the air. Flora carefully placed the plants on her sunny windowsill and ran back out into the hall. She returned with two more pots. Setting those up, she headed for the door again.

"Do you have a lot more out there?" Dominique finally decided to show some manners and help her new roommate. After all, Flora seemed to be the quietest and most normal of the trio so far. "Want some help?"

She got up from the bed and followed the girl into the hallway.

"No, no, it's fine! Thank you! It's just Fluffy left, I can manage!" Flora's voice called out from behind the door.

And then she appeared, nearly colliding with Dominique in the doorway.

"Sweet Jesus..." Dominique instinctively recoiled, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.

Every time she thought this insane world had nothing left to surprise her with, there was always something that left her stunned. Or terrified. Like right now. Flora wasn't just holding a flower pot. It was... a creature. Protruding from the ornate pot was an ugly, fleshy maw lined with sharp, jagged teeth. And from that maw, moving in what felt like slow motion, a long, pink, slobbering tongue shot out straight toward Dominique's face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Flora quickly pulled the pot away, affectionately petting Fluffy along its... stem. "Did he scare you? He really didn't mean any harm. Fluffy just licks everyone he sees! It's his way of greeting strangers."

"Ew, Flora, what is that monster?" Stella stared at the plant in disgust, shielding herself with a pillow as if it were a shield. "Is that some kind of toothy weed? It's going to eat my shoes! Get that monster out of the room right now!"

"He's not scary at all! Right, my good boy?" Flora's voice went incredibly soft; she even scratched Fluffy under the... chin? "And he doesn't eat shoes. Only flies. And don't worry, I'll keep him on my windowsill. He won't bother you."

In response, Fluffy's ugly maw... clicked approvingly, as if confirming her words. Stella pouted but didn't argue further, just burying herself deeper into her pillow. Meanwhile, Tecna's round drone flew over silently, deftly dodging Fluffy's slobbery tongue. The lens on the floating sphere lit up with a bright blue light, and a scanning grid swept over the plant's stem and ugly face.

"Carnivorous plant," Tecna stated, not even turning around, just casting a quick glance at her wrist gadget, which instantly displayed a hologram with data. "Linguavorax tropicalis, looks like a modified variant. Interesting genetic engineering."

"You know about plants?" Flora asked hopefully, turning to her.

"Not particularly. But I read a study on the biomodification of flora for defensive purposes."

"Exactly!" Flora beamed. "Fluffy is actually from Linphea's line of guard plants! They're specially bred to protect gardens from magical pests. He's still very little, so right now he can only protect me from flies and mosquitoes!" she giggled.

Having finished arranging her green wards, Flora turned and looked at Dominique. There was genuine remorse in her eyes—she seemed seriously upset that she had frightened her roommate. She walked hesitantly over to her bed.

"Do you have any pets?" she asked, smiling softly, clearly trying to smooth things over. "Or maybe plants?"

"A rabbit," Dominique replied, recalling the long-eared grey little shit that lived in her room. "I left him at home."

"Oh, how sweet!" Flora was visibly delighted by the chance to strike up a conversation. "What's his name?"

"Kiko."

"That's a very cute name," Flora paused for a second, clearly expecting a more elaborate continuation.

"Yeah, I guess," Dominique muttered, having absolutely no idea what to talk about with this girl. She knew nothing about botany and harbored no particular sentimental feelings for animals.

Thankfully, Flora didn't take offense. Evidently realizing that her roommate wasn't exactly in the mood for small talk, she just smiled meekly and returned to her pots, carefully adjusting her plants' leaves. Stella, seeing the introduction dragging into an awkward silence, decided to take matters into her own hands. She clapped loudly, demanding everyone's attention.

"Alright, girls! Since we're roommates now, let's get to know each other better!" she turned decisively to Musa. "Musa, take off the headphones, this is important!"

Musa rolled her eyes but complied, pulling the massive headphones down around her neck. Though the music still continued to play quietly from the speakers.

"Let's go around and have everyone share a little bit about themselves!" the princess proposed energetically. "I'll start! So, I'm Stella, Princess of Solaria, Fairy of the Sun and Moon. I love fashion, shopping, beautiful things, and, of course, hot guys," she winked flirtatiously. "I actually studied here last year, but there was a... minor incident."

"Minor?" Tecna snorted, tilting her head skeptically.

"Yes! Totally minor!" Stella insisted hotly. "I just mixed up a few ingredients in a potion, and the cauldron kind of... exploded. And then the laboratory followed. Just a little bit."

"Griselda talked our ears off about your... incident," Musa noted with a barely perceptible smirk. "She strongly recommended we keep our distance from you."

"What an old hag!" Stella pouted in offense. "She clearly holds a grudge against me. What did I ever do to her?"

"Indeed, what could you have done?" Musa laughed sarcastically.

 

[VitahAR]

Dominique shifted her attentive gaze from one girl to the next, trying to calculate their personalities based on first impressions and build the optimal line of behavior. And most importantly, while Stella was desperately trying to prove to everyone that last year's potion lab explosion was a total accident, and that she, poor thing, was framed — Dominique was thinking hard about what to say about herself. Her biggest worry was that one of her new roommates might turn out to be from Callisto, which would cause her fragile cover story to crumble right before her eyes. Sure, people somewhere in Magix or on remote worlds might not know Stella's face, but on her home planet, every dog would surely recognize their crown princess.

Trying not to betray her keen interest, Dominique studied the girls' faces, noting the slightest details in their expressions. No one seemed to be giving her any sideways glances, and when Stella introduced her as the Princess of Callisto, there was no dramatic reaction. That alone allowed her to mentally breathe a sigh of relief. Clearly, none of those present were her "subjects." However, the problem of her stolen identity still hung over her like the Sword of Damocles. Just because there was no one from Callisto in this room didn't mean that among hundreds of other students, by some cruel twist of fate, there wouldn't be someone from that world who definitely knew what the real Varanda looked like. That meant she would have to casually ask the girls to keep quiet about her title outside their room. Or better yet — to forget about it entirely. After all, she had already fed Griselda the story about trying to "stay close to the common people." Why not use that same proven trick on her roommates?

Dominique felt the corner of her lips curl into a smirk on its own accord, and she immediately wiped the untimely grimace off her face with an effort of will. Her old habits were increasingly giving away her former nature, and she had to admit, on a pretty teenage face, her signature adult smirks looked at least strange and ridiculous.

"...You are such a pain, Musa!" Stella's loud, indignant cry pulled her out of her thoughts. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

The girl with the pigtails merely scoffed mockingly at the accusation and shrugged with indifference.

"You're the first."

"Fine, fine," Stella put her hands on her hips. "Let's hear about you then, huh? Since you're so smart."

"Alright, if we're doing this..." Musa drawled lazily. "I'm Musa, the Fairy of Music. Originally from Melody. I love silence..."

She paused meaningfully, and at that exact moment, everyone clearly heard a heavy, rhythmic beat blasting from the headphones resting around her neck. Stella snorted pointedly.

"You call that 'loving silence'?"

"I call it 'background noise'," Musa parried calmly. "I also hate it when people pry into my soul, ask stupid questions, and touch my things. If we follow those three simple rules, we'll get along great."

"How sweet of you," Stella muttered with unconcealed irony.

Musa shrugged again.

"It is what it is. And I also hate phoniness. Both in music and in people."

A sudden, awkward pause hung in the room. Stella's smile faltered noticeably when Musa said the word "phoniness," because as she said it, the Fairy of Music cast a completely unreadable glance at the Princess of Solaria, only looking away a moment later.

"That was... informative," Tecna broke the lingering silence dryly, maintaining a completely impassive expression. "Who's next?"

"Oh! Me then!" Flora immediately perked up, as if she hadn't noticed the tension that had slipped between Musa and Stella. "My name is Flora, I'm from Linphea. I'm the Fairy of Nature. I really love plants, animals, and just living things in general..."

"We noticed," Stella muttered, casting a suspicious glance at Fluffy, who was lazily snapping its toothy maw on its windowsill.

Flora smiled bashfully.

"I just... worry a little about the environment. And the balance of nature. And about..." she hesitated, searching for the words. "Anyway, I try to help everyone."

Dominique cringed inwardly. Her first, quite favorable impression of this quiet plant-lover began to plummet rapidly, hitting rock bottom. Ever since her past corporate life, she couldn't stand this kind of crowd — overly principled zealots with eco-activism on the brain. Annoying flashbacks immediately surfaced in Dominique's memory, reminding her of how these enlightened individuals would stage loud protests right outside the glass doors of her company's headquarters. They would splash paint on the steps and shout into megaphones, telling the press that she practically hunted poor furry animals at night herself just to produce new designer accessories.

If she blurts out that she's also a vegan, this is going to be really depressing, Dominique thought grimly, mentally preparing for the worst.

"And also..." Flora continued, completely unaware. "I can accelerate plant growth and heal them. And sometimes... they listen to me."

"Sometimes?" Musa raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Well..." Flora laughed softly, apologetically. "When they're not throwing tantrums."

As if to confirm her words, Fluffy loudly and pointedly snapped its jaws at that moment, nearly biting a chunk out of the curtain.

"Yeah, we can see that," Stella scoffed, inching further away from the window.

"Alright. My turn," Tecna spoke up.

Everyone immediately stared at Tecna with interest. But instead of simply speaking, the Fairy of Technology made a barely noticeable hand gesture. Her hovering drone instantly flew forward, projecting a blue beam from its lens that formed a crisp, slowly rotating hologram of Tecna right in the middle of the room.

"I am Tecna," she began in an even voice. "My height is one hundred seventy-two centimeters, my weight is fifty-four kilograms, my chest measurement is..."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Stella waved her hands frantically, interrupting the flow of precise parameters. "Tecna, we're not at a boutique fitting! Your chest size... Let's just say that's not the first piece of information we want to know."

Tecna blinked in confusion and swiped the hologram away with a single flick of her finger. She looked around at everyone's faces, puzzled. Flora wore a strained, overly friendly smile. Musa giggled quietly, hiding her face in her hands, but she was more amused by Stella's reaction: the princess was standing with her hands on her hips, looking as indignant as if she had sat down to watch a romantic drama and was shown a documentary about tractor mechanics without warning.

Even Dominique stared at the Fairy of Technology in genuine surprise. At first, she thought the girl was just brilliantly and subtly trolling them. But looking closely at her face, she realized: no, Tecna's social radar was simply completely busted. She had evidently spent so much time hugging computers that she had absolutely no idea how people communicated in a normal society.

"Maybe you should start with where you're from?" Dominique decided to finally speak up and save the situation.

Tecna shifted her gaze to her. She opened her mouth slightly as if about to say something, but couldn't find the words. She looked so funny in that moment that a picture naturally formed in Dominique's head: as if Tecna's processor had overheated and simply frozen mid-calculation.

"I... That was my intention," Tecna finally managed to say, having successfully "rebooted."

"After listing all your physical parameters?" Dominique smirked. "Seriously, Tecna, let's save your medical chart for another time. For now, just tell us the most important stuff about yourself."

"Alright," the Fairy of Technology nodded. "I am originally from the planet Zenith. My specialization is digital magic, holograms, and protecting data streams. I came to Alfea because, statistically, it is the best educational institution for fairies in the known Dimension."

"And that's it?" Stella asked, surprised, clearly expecting something more heartfelt. "Nothing about hobbies? Favorite food? Music?"

"Green," Tecna replied after a short pause.

"What do you mean, 'green'?"

"My favorite color. The color of successfully compiled source code."

Musa chuckled softly. Flora laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. Dominique simply looked away and stared at the floor. The picture was looking pretty grim. What she had heard so far was more than enough to form a clear first impression of the people she'd be sharing a room with for the next year.

She cast a thoughtful glance at Musa. Judging by her clothing style, her prickly demeanor, and the brash way she spoke to Stella without showing an ounce of reverence for her royal title, Musa was a typical rebellious teenager. What did they call them back on Earth these days? Alt girls. And an alt girl with a severe hang-up about phoniness at that. When it came to relationships and keeping secrets, she could become the most problematic.

Flora was soft, but apparently the most conscientious. That type wouldn't withstand pressure and, out of the goodness of her heart, would spill everything during the first serious interrogation. Trusting these two with her secret was absolutely out of the question. As for Tecna... Dominique honestly didn't know what to think. The girl was clearly more accustomed to the company of machines, but at least she hadn't demonstrated a fierce aversion to lies or any aggressive principled stances yet.

At that moment, Dominique felt an intense gaze on her. Shaking her head to dispel the unnecessary thoughts, she looked up and noticed that all the attention in the room was now focused on her. Stella, sitting on the adjacent bed, tensed almost imperceptibly, her fingers gripping the bedspread.

"Well..." she trailed off. "Only you're left... Varanda."

Dominique scoffed inwardly and decided to serve up the cover story she had thought up back when she was reading up on Callisto in the library. Fortunately, that world was considered an absolute backwater by the Magical Dimension's standards. A small, cold planet almost at the very edge of the dimension, a dominion of Solaria. She didn't need to invent much, so Dominique decided to simply mix half-truths with lies, as she had done so often and successfully in her past life.

"Well then... I'm Varanda," she said calmly, looking straight ahead. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you. I am the Princess of Callisto. It's a small, rather cold planet. Nothing special."

Dominique slowly swept her gaze over each of them, carefully noting how the girls reacted to her words. Everyone was just waiting for her to continue; no one seemed to be in a rush to catch her in a lie.

"I only awakened my magic quite recently," she continued in a confident tone, "so I came here to learn how to control this power."

"Recently?" Tecna raised an eyebrow, her interest visibly piqued. "You mean you manifested magical abilities late?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting," Tecna frowned, clearly running calculations in her head. "According to current statistics, only three percent of fairies manifest abilities after the age of fifteen. It is an extremely rare occurrence. Usually, magic stabilizes in childhood or early adolescence."

"Then I guess I'm incredibly lucky to fall into that three percent," Dominique countered, completely unbothered.

Tecna looked thoughtfully at her holographic screen, typed something quickly, but didn't say anything out loud.

"Don't worry," Flora interjected softly, genuinely trying to support the new girl. "They'll teach you everything here. The professors at Alfea really are the best!"

"Especially Professor Palladium," Stella drawled dreamily, closing her eyes. "He's so..."

"Old?" Musa offered with a sly smirk.

"Smart!" the princess corrected indignantly.

"And married," Tecna added, not even looking up from her screen.

A ringing silence hung in the room.

"How do you know that?!" Stella gasped.

"I... dug around in the faculty files a bit," Tecna replied, hesitating and looking away for the first time all evening.

Dominique looked at the Fairy of Technology with suddenly heightened interest. That fleeting hesitation, combined with the fact that teachers' personal files were surely not lying around in the open school database, made one thing perfectly clear: Tecna was no stranger to mundane curiosity, and to satisfy it, she was easily willing to bend the rules a little.

"No way!" Stella shrieked, clutching her head. "Palladium — married?! I refuse to believe it! He's... He's Palladium!"

The conversation naturally flowed into a lively discussion about the professors: which elf was a sweetheart, and what an unbearable bitch Griselda was. Stella, as always, was in her element, monopolizing the spotlight with stories from the previous year. Dominique mentally applauded the blonde — she had masterfully, albeit unconsciously, steered the topic away from the slippery identity of "Varanda."

"Listen, since we're roommates now, maybe we should discuss some basic rules?" Tecna suggested unexpectedly, once Stella's indignation began to wane. She looked up from her gadget again. "To avoid conflicts in the future."

"Rules?" Stella grimaced in agony. "What are we, in the army?"

"Precisely because we are not in the army, we need to discuss them in advance," Tecna parried logically.

"I completely agree with Tecna," Dominique sat up straighter and glanced toward the bathroom. "Since there are five of us now, let's at least figure out the basics. Like, who uses the bathroom in the morning and when. A strict schedule will really help us avoid a morning stampede."

"Then I'm first!" Stella immediately declared, throwing her hand up. "I need at least an hour for my morning routine."

"An hour?!" Musa looked amazed. "What the hell are you going to do in there for a whole hour?"

"Beauty requires time and dedication," Stella replied self-importantly, adjusting a curl.

"I propose we set a limit of twenty minutes per person," Tecna pulled out a tablet and started typing. "That is the optimal time frame."

"Twenty minutes is nothing!" Stella protested.

"It's more than enough if you don't plaster on five layers of makeup," Musa grumbled.

"Maybe Stella could just wake up a little earlier than the rest of us?" Flora suggested peaceably. "Then she'd have more time, and no one would be waiting."

"I hate waking up early," Stella pouted.

"Then you have a choice — either wake up earlier or fit it into twenty minutes," Tecna stated, continuing to type.

Dominique listened to the exchange in silence, no longer interfering. Arguing over bathroom turns? That was a bit much. Although... she recalled a few corporate board meetings that had unfolded in pretty much the same way. People were the same everywhere, whether they were sixteen or forty.

"One more thing," Tecna continued. "Music. Musa, you listen to yours loudly, and it could prevent others from studying or resting."

"I usually wear headphones," Musa countered, crossing her arms.

"But you have speakers. And pretty powerful ones, judging by the model."

"Sometimes I like to listen without headphones. It helps you feel the sound with your whole body."

"After ten PM — strictly headphones," Tecna proposed. "At all other times — at a reasonable volume. Agreed?"

Musa thought for a second, then nodded.

"Works for me."

"Excellent. Next item — guests. Are we allowed to bring friends into the room?"

"Of course!" Stella exclaimed. "Otherwise how are we going to throw pajama parties?"

"Advance notice," Tecna decided briefly. "And not too late at night. Agreed?"

Everyone nodded.

"And lastly," Tecna turned to Flora. "Your plant. Are you absolutely certain it is safe to be around?"

"Absolutely," Flora assured her. "Fluffy only reacts to insects. He would never attack a human or a fairy."

"Very well. Then I am adding that to the list," Tecna made a final note. "The basic rules are established. We will handle anything else on a case-by-case basis."

"Wow, Tecna, you're like a real project manager," Musa smirked.

"I just appreciate systems and order," Tecna shrugged, putting the tablet away.

Dominique mentally praised Tecna for such a competent approach and leaned back against her pillow. She listened to the girls' chatter and the rustle of them unpacking, but mentally, she was far away. She replayed what was happening in her head, comparing what she was seeing in person with what she vaguely remembered from the old cartoon. Most of that colorful nonsense used to play somewhere in the background back then, and she didn't remember the details of the plot at all. Yes, she knew their names were Flora, Musa, and Tecna. But how on earth did they become such a tight-knit, loyal team when they had absolutely nothing in common? That firmly eluded her understanding.

What could possibly unite them, aside from the notoriously childish cliché that "friendship is magic"? Dominique didn't believe in friendship for the sake of friendship. With her life experience, she believed in mutually beneficial relationships, which bound people far more securely than any vows. Deciding not to torture her poor brain, which was already starting to melt from trying to remember anything useful, Dominique tuned back into what was happening in the room.

Musa had already unpacked her few belongings. She flopped onto her bed with her shoes still on and, pulling on her massive headphones, began typing rapidly on her datapad, her head bobbing rhythmically to the silent music.

Flora was still fussing with her exotic flowers, trying to arrange the pots so that they all got an even amount of sunlight. She was actually talking to them while she did it. And not just mumbling some nonsense under her breath — she was acting as if she were really responding to the quiet rustling of the leaves! On Earth, this sweet fairy of nature would have been locked up in a cozy padded room for behavior like this, but here... Dominique could have sworn: when Flora asked one flower to move over slightly so another could get more light, the plant actually tilted its stem a little and lowered its broad leaves. And the second flower, as if in gratitude, joyfully bobbed its bud. Flora laughed softly and whispered something affectionately to them.

Dominique swallowed hard and looked away. It had been a week since she arrived in this world, and she had seen her fair share of weirdness, but she still kept flinching internally at these mundane, everyday displays of magic.

She shifted her gaze to her roommate on the right. Tecna had already printed out the schedule and taped it to the bathroom door, after which she returned to her gadgets. Right before Dominique's eyes, like she was building with Legos, she assembled an entire desk setup in her corner that looked straight out of some cyberpunk movie. The fairy began arranging monitors on it, plugging cables into ports on the table. All this technomagic looked like dark witchcraft to Dominique. In her past life, she had a whole IT department for things like this; she had absolutely no need to know how gadgets worked on the inside.

Pensive, she pulled her ancient Earth cellphone out of her pocket and stared at the blank screen. Judging by the time, lunch — if there was one — had long since passed while she and Stella were busy welcoming the new girls.

Dominique turned the phone over in her hands, wondering whether she should ask Tecna to do a little magic on it to catch an interdimensional signal, or if it would be better to wait until she had some money for a local equivalent. It wasn't that she desperately needed to make a call, but ever since she passed through Alfea's barrier, she hadn't called home once.

Not that she felt an unbearable urge to chat with Mike and Vanessa, it was just... A strange, pulling sensation kept gnawing at her from the inside. Dominique had never considered herself sentimental, but frankly, she had never faced a situation like this in her past life either. She had literally stolen their child's body. Mike and Vanessa were probably sick with worry right now. For some reason, the thought of that echoed with an unpleasant, sharp pang of guilt somewhere under her ribs.

I just need to call and tell them everything is fine, she decided pragmatically. Who knows what they might do out of sheer panic. They can't get here on their own, but if they start running around Earth looking for information on Magix, fairies, and portals... that's a surefire way to earn a reputation as the town crazies, if not land themselves in a psych ward. They definitely don't need that.

Pondering the best way to structure the dialogue with Bloom's parents, Dominique became so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice when she drifted off to sleep. She was awakened by a light but persistent shove to her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw Stella, all dressed up, standing over her, and outside the window, thick twilight had already gathered.

"Did you decide to sleep through the welcome party?" the princess smirked, adjusting her hair. "Come on, get ready! We're going to listen to old lady Faragonda's boring speech and eat good food."

The princess let out a ringing laugh and added:

"Yeah, honestly, the second part is the only reason worth going."

Dominique groggily rubbed her eyes and stretched with a groan, working the stiffness out of her muscles. Stella was already dressed to the nines, donning one of the luxurious dresses they had bought during their recent shopping spree. Musa was nowhere to be seen, but an elegant pale blue dress was laid out on her neatly made bed.

Flora had also managed to change, finally ditching her hideous pink skirt with strawberries for an elegant dark burgundy dress, which made Dominique mentally exhale with relief.

Tecna was sporting a surprisingly beautiful, albeit very unique outfit that suited her incredibly well. It was a futuristic light blue dress. The high collar smoothly transitioned into a stylized hood of sorts, and the cutouts on the sides accentuated her slender figure. Only right now, the Fairy of Technology, in all her chic glory, was frantically digging through her half-unpacked suitcases, while her round drone buzzed around under the bed, illuminating the corners with a blue scanner.

"She can't find her other boot," Stella explained with a quiet giggle, catching Dominique's bewildered look.

At that moment, the lock clicked, the bathroom door opened, and Musa stumbled into the room, towel-drying her hair as she walked.

"Oh, the sleeping beauty deigned to wake up?" she cast a mocking glance at Dominique. "Are you going to the party, or should we bring some canapés to your bed?"

"Of course she's going! Come on, Varanda, get up!" Stella commanded categorically.

Letting out a heavy, agonized sigh, Dominique got out of bed. Honestly, she would have loved nothing more than to stay in the room and get a proper night's sleep before tomorrow. But, alas, opting out was not a feature included in the Princess of Solaria's company. She threw open the wardrobe doors and began critically sifting through all the colorful splendor her roommate had bought her. Her choice naturally fell on Luma's dress, but Stella immediately and indignantly vetoed it, claiming it was too similar to the color of Musa's outfit, and as roommates, they needed to stand out and contrast with each other.

Ultimately, after a short but fierce debate, Dominique surrendered and let Stella take complete control of the choice. Another half an hour was spent on fittings until the princess finally gave her highest approval. Dominique twirled joylessly in front of the mirror. Stella's choice was a sleeveless red dress with a deep V-neck. The hem of the dress was adorned with flowing ruffles, and on her feet were yellow high-heeled sandals. She looked like a classic Barbie doll in the outfit, but arguing with Stella wasn't worth the hassle — they were already running late anyway.

"Well, is everyone ready?" Stella looked the four of them over as if they were her personal entourage, nothing less.

"Let's just go," Musa rolled her eyes and pushed the front door open.

The girls stepped out into the hallway. It was already buzzing with incredible excitement. Flocks of dressed-up, perfume-scented fairies rustled in silk as they purposefully streamed toward the Great Hall. The girls descended the wide grand staircase to the first floor and merged with this colorful crowd, which, like a deep river, flowed through the open doors of the ballroom and spread across its vast expanse.

The hall was staggering. Massive crystal chandeliers floated smoothly under the high vaulted ceilings, untethered to any fixtures. The air carried a faint scent of vanilla and flowers, and a pleasant, relaxing instrumental melody poured from somewhere above, without a single visible orchestra. Long buffet tables stretched along the walls, literally groaning under the weight of tiered cakes, exotic fruits, and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

"It's a shame there won't be any guys," Stella sighed heavily, surveying the exclusively female company. "The ones from Red Fountain are only invited to the graduation ball at the end of the year."

"Let's find some decent seats first," Tecna suggested pragmatically, scanning the room.

The girls deftly squeezed through the crowd to a table near the center. The atmosphere in the hall was warm and entirely informal; the ringing sound of girls chatting and laughing echoed from all sides. This evening had clearly been designed by the administration precisely so the first-year students could relax, get to know each other, and make useful connections. Especially considering that the vast majority of those present were, if not crown princesses, then certainly representatives of the high aristocracy.

"Where did Stella go?" Dominique asked, taking a seat at the table.

She had been distracted for literally a second to wave hello to Luma, whom she spotted by a nearby snack table, and when she turned back, the blonde had vanished without a trace.

"Said she saw an old acquaintance," Musa answered indifferently, critically inspecting the contents of her punch glass.

Dominique shifted her gaze to Flora. The Fairy of Nature was sitting on the very edge of her chair, hugging herself tightly. She flinched nervously every time someone laughed loudly nearby, clearly feeling as uncomfortable as possible surrounded by such a massive, noisy crowd.

"Are you okay, Flora?" Dominique asked quietly, leaning toward her.

"Huh? Y-yes, everything is fine," Flora tried to force a smile, but it looked pathetic. "I'm just... not used to this at all."

At that moment, Stella returned, swooping down on their table like a whirlwind.

"Well, did you miss me?" she asked, beaming.

"Words can't describe it. We couldn't live without you for those three minutes," Musa snarked routinely.

Stella wasn't offended by the sarcasm in the slightest. She flopped into the empty chair and leaned forward conspiratorially, dropping her voice to a whisper:

"Listen up. As soon as the Headmistress gives her speech, there's a fabulous idea to keep our party going somewhere else."

Dominique, remembering perfectly well how Stella's "parties" usually ended, shuddered inwardly. She had had more than enough from the last time, an event the princess was still slyly teasing her about based on the number of guys she had charmed.

"Stella, classes start tomorrow morning," Dominique tried to appeal to whatever was left of her royal common sense.

"So what?" the blonde waved it off frivolously. "We'll only have a little bit! Just to celebrate meeting each other!"

"Are you seriously suggesting we get drunk on the very first night?" Musa raised her eyebrows in surprise, though a hint of involuntary respect for such audacity slipped into her voice.

"Alcohol is strictly prohibited on school grounds," Tecna stated immediately.

Flora just blinked fearfully, her uncomprehending gaze darting from one girl to the next. For her, apparently, the mere thought of breaking the rules seemed sacrilegious.

"Alright, we'll talk later," Stella suddenly sat up ramrod straight in her chair and put on the most innocent face possible, noticing movement at the main entrance. "They're coming!"

Dominique followed her gaze. The music in the hall smoothly faded. A whole delegation of adults walked through the open doors at a leisurely, dignified pace. Dominique already knew the stern Griselda; the rest appeared to be teachers. But leading this procession was a woman in her sixties. She had a tall, voluminous hairstyle made of unusual ash-blue hair styled into a complex, aristocratic roll. Narrow, thin-rimmed glasses rested on her nose, from beneath which sharp, intelligent eyes surveyed the hall. She was dressed in a strict, high-necked dark blue suit with sharp shoulders, adorned with a large red stone just below the collar.

Every conversation in the enormous room died the moment this woman took her first step onto the marble floor. With impeccably straight posture, she walked to the front of the hall, where a long, richly set table for the faculty stood on a small raised platform. Taking her place in the center, Faragonda was in no hurry to sit down. Instead, she rested her thin fingers on the edge of the tabletop and swept her piercing gaze over the room. There was something hypnotic in that silence — three hundred girls froze, afraid to make even the slightest rustle.

"Welcome to Alfea," her voice wasn't loud, but, amplified by invisible magic, it echoed through the hall as clearly as if the Headmistress were standing right behind each of the students. "I am pleased to welcome a new generation of fairies within these walls. You have passed a rigorous selection process, and your very presence here proves that you possess outstanding potential."

Faragonda paused briefly, letting the words settle in the minds of the first-years.

"But remember: an innate gift is merely a spark. Without proper diligence and hard, daily labor, that spark will fade, never becoming a flame," the Headmistress's tone grew more instructive. "Our school has held the title of the best educational institution in the Magical Dimension for centuries. And these are not empty words. Alfea graduates do not simply perform pretty tricks. They become personal advisors to kings, hold the highest positions at courts, form elite planetary defense squads, and shape the history of entire worlds. We will give you the best education possible. But who you are when you walk out those doors — elite or mediocre — depends entirely on you."

The Headmistress gracefully, with true aristocratic dignity, raised a crystal glass.

"To the new school year."

And in that exact moment, as hundreds of girls around her responded with a joyous hum and raised their glasses, Dominique felt a gaze. Faragonda's eyes, which had been gliding smoothly over the colorful crowd of students, suddenly stopped. And locked directly onto Dominique's eyes.

Light music began to play in the hall again, dishes clinked happily, Stella was chattering excitedly about something right in her ear, but for Dominique, time seemed to stand still. She instantly broke out in an icy sweat. For one terrifying second that stretched into eternity, Dominique was absolutely certain: the Headmistress saw right through her. Saw a grown woman from Earth hiding inside someone else's body. Her heart skipped a painful beat and dropped somewhere into her stomach. Dominique's fingers gripped the stem of her glass so tightly the crystal nearly cracked.

And then Faragonda simply blinked. She smoothly looked away without the slightest emotion on her face, as if nothing had happened, and leaning slightly to the side, switched to a quiet conversation with Griselda, who had approached her. Dominique let out a ragged breath, feeling her heart pounding frantically. She hastily brought the glass to her lips and took a large gulp of ice-cold juice, trying to quell the trembling in her hands.

"Varanda, why are you so pale?" Musa elbowed her in the side, already piling various exquisite appetizers onto her plate. "Are you feeling sick?"

Dominique forced herself to shake her head and offer a weak smile, although the tight spring of paranoia was still coiled inside her. If this woman was capable of inducing such primal terror with just a look across a massive hall, a personal meeting in her office could be fatal. One thing was crystal clear: Headmistress Faragonda was not someone to trifle with. And she needed to stay as far away from her as possible.

The rest of the evening passed in a thick fog for Dominique. It constantly felt as if the Headmistress was watching her the moment she looked away. Intellectually, she understood perfectly well that this reeked of outright paranoia, but the heavy stare and cold eyes of the old witch were still etched into her mind's eye. She felt an unbearable urge to get out of there as quickly as possible. To physically remove herself from the same room as Faragonda.

Pleading a sudden headache, Dominique apologized to her roommates, slipped away from the table, and left the buzzing hall. Stepping outside, she took a frantic breath of the cool night air. After a few minutes in the quiet courtyard, she felt noticeably better, and the suffocating bout of inexplicable, animalistic panic finally began to subside. The girl cast a long, thoughtful look at the high gates of Alfea.

For a brief moment, a wild but wildly tempting idea flared in her head: while everyone was stuck in the ballroom at the banquet, she could quietly go up to the room, pack only the essentials, and get the hell out of this school. Where to? It didn't matter, as long as it was far away from this place and the Headmistress's eyes. After all, Alfea wasn't the only magic school in the Dimension. She could quietly sell off the designer dresses Stella had bought her, get a decent chunk of starting cash, settle down somewhere, and hire a private tutor to tame her magic.

A multitude of options for how she could scrape by and build a life in this world flashed rapidly through her mind. But there was one massive, insurmountable "but". The damn plot of this freaking cartoon. Dominique didn't remember almost anything useful from it, but one thing she knew for sure: Bloom was the main character. And the main character couldn't just be an ordinary girl. There was undoubtedly some quirk hidden inside her, some global problem that made her the center of the story. And this absolute uncertainty frightened her more than anything in the world right now.

If she ran away, wouldn't those "quirks" and problems find her anyway, at the most unexpected moment? When she was completely unprepared? When there was no one around to watch her back, help, and simply explain what the hell was going on? And so, no matter how much she wanted to sprint for those gates right now...

Dominique let out a heavy sigh, cast a final glance at the exit of Alfea, and slowly, reluctantly trudged back toward the school's massive doors. She didn't even notice that at the exact moment of her internal choice, Faragonda turned away from the glass of one of the windows.

The girl re-entered the school, but instead of returning to the noisy ballroom, she headed straight for her room. Entering the quiet, empty room, she kicked off her sandals and, still in her dress, literally collapsed face-first into her pillow, feeling absolutely drained. She didn't know how much time had passed in that saving darkness, reacting only to the quiet click of the door opening. Through her slumber, Dominique heard hushed, careful voices — the girls were trying to whisper, assuming she was fast asleep. Judging by their conversation, only three had returned. Stella had indeed run off to continue her informal partying with someone else.

But that no longer concerned Dominique whatsoever. She didn't open her eyes to reveal she was awake, and about ten minutes later, lulled by the soothing, quiet rustle of her roommates getting ready for bed, she fell into a genuine, deep sleep.