Page 89 of Impawssible Magic

“See? She thinks it’s endearing.”

“She’s being polite.”

“She’s being accurate.” Sakura smiles at him.

Clouds gather above her head—the fluffy, pleasant kind. She notices. Takes a slow, deliberate breath, the way someone does when they’re concentrating on something they can’t quite see. The clouds thin at the edges. Slowly. Imperfectly. They don’t disappear entirely, but they loosen, drifting apart under their own weight rather than hers.

She blinks, surprised at herself.

Torin goes pink. All the way to his ears.

And Caius—Caius is watching Anouk with that carefully hidden longing that’s not as hidden as he thinks.

Soon, I think again. All of you. Soon.

Something is shifting in Mistvale. I feel it.

I’m starting to believe Grandmother Peach was right.

That evening, Leire and I climb to the rooftop of Whisperwind Charms.

The access is through a trapdoor in the back room—probably a safety hazard, definitely worth it. The roof is flat, bordered by a low wall, offering views of Moonthread Square and the misty streets beyond. In the distance, the Thornback Mountains rise against the darkening sky, their peaks catching the last rays of sunset.

Leire brought blankets. I brought wine—a bottle from Zeph’s cellar, supposedly non-magical. (“Probably non-magical. Mostly non-magical. Drink at your own risk,” she’d said, grinning.)

We settle against the wall, shoulders touching, watching the mist roll in. It’s golden tonight, catching the last of the sunset, swirling with colors that shouldn’t exist. Purple and amber and a shade of green I’ve only seen in Leire’s eyes.

“So.” Leire’s shoulder presses against mine. Her fingers find the stem of her wine glass. “What now?”

“Now we rebuild your shop.”

“Obviously. I meant after that. After the rebuilding and the recovery and the inevitable interrogations about what we’ve learned.”

I consider the question. A month ago, the answer would have been simple: patrol the Warding Line, maintain the peace, survive another day. Survival was my entire purpose. The goal was to make it from one sunrise to the next without falling apart.

Now...

“Now we live.” The words feel strange in my mouth. Unfamiliar. True. “Actually live. Not just exist.”

She leans her head on my shoulder, her hair tickling my jaw. “What does living look like for you? Specifically. Day to day.”

I think about it. Really think, in a way I haven’t let myself for years.

“Waking up with you.” The honesty comes easier now. “Coming home to you. Fighting beside you when threats arise, because they will. Having breakfast in a kitchen that smells like coffee and sage.”

“What else?”

“Growing old with you, if we’re lucky.” The words come slowly, dredged up from a place I’ve kept locked for years. “Seeing what your magic becomes when it’s fully anchored. Watching you build something here—not just a shop, but a life. A home. Maybe getting a dog.”

“A dog?” She lifts her head to stare at me. “You’re a cat.”

“Tigers aren’t cats.”

“Tigers are literally cats. Big cats. It’s in the name.”

“We’re distinct.”

“You purr. I’ve heard you.”