The scent of lavender oil and old parchment clung to the air of Elion’s room. Elion sat cross-legged on a cushion, brows furrowed, muttering as his finger traced glowing runes in a grimoire far too advanced for him. “Invocatio transfigurata… felinus corpus...” He paused. That didn’t sound right. A pulse of magic burst from the book. Elion yelped as a tingling sensation crawled down his spine—and suddenly, his balance felt off. He staggered to the mirror on the wall. His heart skipped. Two large, soft cat ears, a warm honey-brown with white tufts, twitched atop his head. A long, bushy tail flicked behind him in confusion. “Oh no. No, no, no…” Frantically, Elion flipped back through the book, scanning the runes again. He tried two counterspells—one fizzled, the other made his tail puff up. Muttering a defeated groan, he tugged a cloak over his head, covering the twitching ears as best he could, and shuffled down the spiraling tower staircase. Embarrassment heated his face. His tail kept getting caught on his robe hem, and every step was pure awkwardness. He found Ysmeralda in the reading chamber, seated in a high-backed chair, an ancient leather tome resting delicately in her lap. Her long silvery-brown hair tumbled down her back in soft waves. She wore an intricately embroidered black dress, adorned with tiny opalescent charms that shimmered faintly with latent power. She looked up and saw him. A gentle smile curved her lips. “Elion… what exactly have you done this time?” He fumbled with the edges of his cloak. “I was just practicing a small transfiguration rune and... it sort of… backfired.” Reluctantly, he stepped closer and lowered the hood. She blinked, then chuckled softly. “Adorable.” Before he could protest, she reached out and lightly touched the base of his tail. Elion inhaled sharply, his cheeks flushing bright red. “I-it’s... really sensitive…” Her fingers glided up, brushing one of his ears. A soft, involuntary noise escaped him as his knees nearly gave. The sensation was strangely warm.