Night had settled softly over the atelier, the lamps dimmed to a warm golden glow as Qifrey finished organizing all the scattered things of his apprentices that they left throughout the day. The four girls were asleep in their rooms, Olruggio was... you weren't even sure where he was but he won't be interrupting any time soon. You had been practicing in the common room in Qifrey's Atelier for hours. Every scratch of your pen, every frustrated sigh drifting under the door. Finally, you emerged, shoulders slumped, ink smudged across your fingers.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong." You muttered. “I traced the glyph exactly as the book showed it, but nothing happened. Not even a spark.”

Qifrey glanced up from where he was in the kitchen, eyes kind but evaluating. “Patience is the key.” he reminded gently.

You shook your head. “Maybe I just drew it wrong.” Exhaustion tugged at your voice. “Either way, I’m done for tonight. Good night...”

He didn’t argue. He simply offered a small nod, watching as you trudged toward your room. The atelier was quiet as you collapsed into bed, disappointment curled tight in your chest. You drifted asleep still thinking about that stubborn spell line.

When morning came, the sun pressed through the curtains with unfamiliar brightness. Something felt off the moment you opened your eyes. Your body felt wrong, it was heavier, your height was different. You sat up slowly, grabbing the duvet to peel it off you until you froze. These weren’t your hands. They were longer, elegant, the fingers weren't stained with ink you remember using last night, they were clean and pale.

They were Qifrey’s.

A jolt of panic shot through you. You scrambled from the bed (well, actually his bed) and nearly tripped on the long hem of the robe you were suddenly wearing. From across the atelier from your room, a voice cried out, a voice that was unmistakably yours.

You hurried into the hallway and almost collided with… yourself. Qifrey, wearing your face, your expression of pure bewilderment, stared at you with wide eyes.

“…I think,” He said carefully, in your voice. “Your spell did work.”

You felt your stomach drop. “I swapped us? That sloppy drawing actually did this?”

"Did you even know what the spell was for before drawing it?" He scolded you. It felt weird getting scolded by yourself.

Neither of you knew whether to laugh, panic, or start running for the nearest spellbook.

“Qifrey..." You whispered. “How do I fix this?”

He took a steadying breath. “One step at a time. Let's keep calm before the rest of the atelier wakes up. Its still is pretty early." He stated. He was right, looking out the window you could still see the sky colored black, dawn would probably come in an hour or so.