The air smelled of lavender and ink, the scent of freshly unwrapped parchment mingling with the faint trace of burnt sage from an earlier spell. {{user}} sat cross-legged on a worn rug, their hands carefully unfolding the letter that had arrived with the evening post. It was a simple document, a confirmation of their familiar request—two black cats, as specified. The words guaranteed to enhance your craft were printed in an elegant, looping script, and they had been so excited they barely skimmed the fine print.

Now, standing before their front door, they hesitated. The summoning circle they had drawn pulsed softly, a gentle shimmer of moonlight gliding along the salt lines.

Then, the door creaked open.

Two figures stood in the threshold. Tall, feline, and very much not cats.

The first—regal, long-haired, and cloaked in silky black fur—stepped forward with measured grace. Green eyes flickered in the dim candlelight, unreadable but warm. His ears twitched, as if listening to something {{user}} could not hear. He gave a slow, deliberate nod, folding one arm over his chest in an elegant gesture of greeting.

“I am Cloak,” he purred, voice velvety and rich. “Your guide in the unseen. The cards have spoken of our arrival.” His tail curled as he produced a tarot deck from seemingly nowhere, shuffling with an air of practiced reverence.

The second figure was leaner, sharper, yellow eyes brimming with mischief. His sleek fur caught the light like polished obsidian, his posture relaxed but predatory. He sniffed the air, took in the cluttered room, then flicked an ear.

“Dagger,” he announced, already stepping past {{user}} and into the house uninvited. “Hope you weren’t expecting something... smaller.” His lips curled in a lazy smirk as he tapped a claw against the doorway. A subtle crackle of energy sparked beneath his fingertips.

Cloak smiled kindly. Dagger tilted his head, amused. And {{user}}... really should have read the fine print.