The arena’s hesitant cheers still echoed in Wendy’s twitching ears as she descended the hillside, but they felt distant now—like sound filtering through water. Her bushy tail twitched with nervous energy as the floating number “8” materialized above her head, bathing her in soft blue light.

  Well, this is it. Kari had her time. That was intense. But it’s my time to prove I’m more than just Sora’s worried sister who turns into jewelry… I’m not locked to Null-Void. Aunt Rose, Mom, I hope you’re watching. I’m going to win!

  “Wendy!” Sora’s voice carried across the space between them, copper hair catching the light as she waved from atop the broken stadium, which was being rebuilt with Elder Caelia’s magic in real-time. “You good?”

  The warmth in her sister’s voice sent a flutter through her chest, but it was Kari’s unexpected nod of acknowledgment as they descended that made her ears perk up. Even Eric, still bloodied and leaning against a barrier, watched with what might have been interest rather than dismissal.

  Look at me, getting respect from the scary wolves, she internally laughed, glancing to her side where Nilly and Nerida walked. Well, Nilly walked. Nerida was lagging behind, fretting, like usual, blowing into her bag. Character development moment? Please don’t be the ‘gets owned right after’ scene. Please don’t be!

  “Do I not look good?” she asked her sister with a creased eye, daring her to say otherwise.

  Sora snickered and shook her head before launching forward to tackle her. Wendy allowed it with a laugh as they met. Rolling around a little beside their small group, Kari having a slightly exasperated look that Wendy assumed was fake, they finally got control of their giggles.

  Lying side by side, Sora looked up at the screen that showed her opponents standing on opposite sides of the stage, waiting for it to fully reform.

  “I’m going to try and record it with my magic? Think I can do it?”

  “Pfft. How should I know, but try not to make me look bad.”

  “How can I do that if you illusion yourself up?”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  Her sister snickered as Wendy jabbed her shoulder from their lying position. Tail rising with her legs, she hoisted herself up and let Nilly help her up.

  “Up we go!”

  “Thanks.”

  Wendy’s gaze drifted to Kari, standing awkwardly off to the side, somewhat like Nerida but without the hyperventilating panic and bag. The siren had serious anxiety issues.

  “Uh… Nice job, handling your brother and all.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure,” Kari grunted, back tail swishing to the left with her gaze, looking nonchalant when her outfit was wrecked and hardly presentable. “Good luck.”

  “Cool.”

  With that absolutely normal interaction out of the way, Wendy took a deep breath, slapped Sora’s tail as it rose to her sister’s balking, and danced toward the stage.

  “I’m going to win!”

  “No, I am,” the Cat Mother cried, trying to keep up. “I have a secret.”

  “To quote a certain wolf, ‘Uh-huh. Sure,” she snickered, making the teen grin at the challenge.

  Nilly bounced beside her, sixteen and radiant in her teenage form, red-tipped, split tail practically vibrating with excitement. “This is gonna be so much fun! Oh, now I’m getting a little nervous… I’m excited to see some awesome tanuki magic! It reminds me a bit of how I played with your great, eh… never mind. I probably shouldn’t talk about him,” she said with a strained smile.

  The comment about Nilly’s past with the other First Generation Founders put a pause in Wendy’s thoughts as they climbed the stairs. She had no clue about her new family tree, but her adopted mother was abandoned and exiled by her father into enemy territory—vulpes territory.

  Plus, for the ridiculous reason of being unable to have children. If that wasn’t enough, the tanuki Founder Nilly was talking about playing with, was the one who was involved in killing half of Sora’s family, so…that was a thing.

  “You’re fine, Nilly!” she returned with a grin. “The friends you know about are totally different than how they turned out in the end—like entirely different. Wait…you remember them? I thought your memory was fuzzy!”

  The cat gave an off-handed shrug, lips bunching to the side and crinkling her nose. “It comes off and on… He used to tease me a lot with illusions of giant birds snatching me out of the sky. Your style of magic has certain ways of making things…feel real.”

  Wendy put a finger to her lip with a, ‘shhhh’ sound as Nerida’s eyes grew big.

  “Don’t ruin the surprise!”

  “Oops!”

  “Wait, what were you two saying?” Nerida gagged, trailed behind them. Her aquamarine hair shimmered as she clutched her shell necklace. “Oh, no. You’re going to make my hands get caught in netting, and then I’m going to get wrapped up in it, and get stuck, and my mom’s going to find me crying—”

  “Woah! Woah!” Wendy swiftly pulled her in as the siren’s eyes practically began to spin with her out-of-control thoughts. “I’m not going to do anything like that! Don’t put that evil on me. Did that…happen?” she asked, unable to get that picture out of her head.

  “Uh… N-no. No. Haha. Of course not…” the girl hastily laughed, head ducking down as if she were being batted over the head and trying to make herself look small. “That would be life-ending…”

  “Hey,” Wendy soothed, taking her hand and squeezing it with a confident smile, “trust in yourself. Eyia was teaching you some tricks, right? If you want, I can…”

  The siren’s wide eyes darted between the other contestants as Wendy layered her magic around the girl, making the crowd disappear. The only thing left was the platform and those already gathering on it. A pair of confident-looking brownies, a muscular troll, and what appeared to be a very nervous pixie, who looked just like Nerida—a walking train-wreck, about to vomit.

  “Better?” Wendy mumbled, watching the girl’s breathing start to even out. “I can dismiss it if—”

  “No! No… This is…wonderful. Thank you!” she whispered, frantically breath easing. “It helps… A lot!”

  “Good.”

  “I just can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” Nerida whispered, her voice carrying that melodic quality that made Wendy’s ears twitch. “What if I accidentally enchant someone into walking off the platform?”

  “Uh, then you won a point,” she returned, puffy tail patting her on the back. “You gotta remember this is a battle royal. C’mon, build up that Eyia spirit!”

  Nilly snorted. “Hah! I don’t know if I can match Eyia’s spirit.”

  “Yeah, Eyia is kind of a unique case,” Wendy acknowledged.

  The warmth infusing Nerida resonated a little as the teen’s smile grew, anxiety fading, if only by a small bit. The tanuki magic that had awakened after Aunt Rose’s intervention hummed through her like warm honey in a way that felt…natural. No longer the chaotic hunger of Null-Void but something she could actually control…and help people with.

  Is this what Sora feels every time she’s helped me?

  The thought was quickly dashed from her mind as they reached the top of the platform.

  Wendy squeezed Nerida’s hand one more time. Nilly gave her a thumbs-up, and they split off to where their numbers were shown to take their places. Yes, the siren looked like she was barely holding on, but at least she wasn’t stumbling over her own feet anymore.

  Time to channel some of that Noelia energy. A little of Mom’s suppressed mischief and mayhem. I’ve got you, Mom. She turned once in a slow spin, flashing a toothy smile and thumbs up to Sora and hoping she was recording because this wasn’t just for her. Mom. We’ve got each other. I’m not just here for me. Let’s get a win!

  Elder Caelia’s voice magically amplified across the arena, still carrying traces of stress from managing the earlier chaos.

  “Contestants, please take your positions. Oh—you’re already there… Ahem. This will be a standard elimination match—touching the ground results in immediate disqualification. Or…fake killing each other, since you will be teleported to safety.”

  There was a bit of hesitation in that last part as the dryad’s holographic face above them glanced down at Eric, still healing and limping away—Kari was running after him.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone between… Here are your next contenders!”

  The platform rose beneath them, carrying the six competitors into the air as the crowd’s energy shifted, anticipation crackling like static.

  Wendy’s stomach did a little flip as she surveyed her opponents. The brownies whispered to each other in their native tongue, clearly strategizing. The troll cracked his knuckles with sounds like breaking branches. The pixie looked ready to bolt—her gaze was fixated on Nilly since Nilly was looking at her, tail weaving as she arched her back in cat-like fashion, showing extreme flexibility.

  Her mind was centered on the coming fight rather than Caelia’s attempts at building hype.

  Okay, assessment time. The brownies are probably earth magic specialists—I’ve learned at least that much from my classroom education. They’ll want to control the platform itself since Caelia infused nature magic into it… Talk about giving one side the upper hand!

  As for the troll…brute force, obviously, she noted, watching him stretch his massive shoulders with all the confidence of someone who knew they could punt a car. Trolls have insane regeneration, right? Annoying, but manageable.

  Ms. Tiny Wing, on the other hand… Either she’s hiding a magical nuke in that twitching core of panic, or she’s going to be the first one to peace out.

  And then all that strategic mental gymnastics ground to a halt.

  Not because of the brownies. Not the troll. Not the pixie.

  Nilly.

  The cat girl had dropped to all fours like a stalking predator, claws scraping into the grooved wood Caelia had grown beneath them. Her tail curled, her spine arched, and her lips parted in a yawn—casual, except for one tiny detail.

  Fangs.

  Not the cute kind. The long, glinting, “I could tear through bone if I forgot what year it was” kind—straight from one of her less…stable forms.

  “Uh. Nilly?!”

  Nilly blinked rapidly, butt still in the air, split tail stiff. Then the air around her shimmered with barely-contained power, making the arena’s magical barriers creak and groan like they were holding back a tidal wave.

  The crowd fell silent.

  Every eye locked onto the small figure of the First Generation Founder of Cats.

  Her golden eyes blazed. Green fire licked up her paws, crawled her arms, and slithered along her spine to ignite her tail tips. Her teenage form flickered—not like a glitchy TV, but in a way that made reality itself seem unsure where she belonged.

  Oh no. Oh no no no.

  Wendy’s internal self was two seconds away from grabbing a bat and smashing the big red panic button.

  Nilly, you’re supposed to be in your limited teenage form! This is going to be a dimension-wide massacre if you flip out—not a fun tournament match!

  But then—

  Nilly sneezed.

  The overwhelming aura popped like a soap bubble, leaving behind just a sixteen-year-old cat girl rubbing her nose with embarrassment.

  “Achoo! Sorry! I think I’m allergic to whatever weave she used to clean the platform. Nature magic makes my nose all tingly sometimes. Kind of like when you go out in the sun and just—bam! Sneeze attack.”

  She blinked up at Wendy, head tilted. “What’s up?”

  The fire, the flickering form, the world-bending pressure—gone. Just a twitching nose and a mildly apologetic cat.

  The crowd released a collective breath.

  Not because they understood what Nilly was.

  But because something—some pressure—had just passed through every soul present. Maybe even across the entire realm.

  A beat.

  Elder Caelia’s relieved voice rang out:

  “Begin!”

  And that was her cue.

  Wendy’s tail rose as she lifted off the platform, floating effortlessly—still riding the lingering fragments of Null-Void to give her just enough edge.

  Then there were three of her.

  No—five.

  No—dozens.

  A swirling constellation of Wendys scattered across the fighting space, some striking heroic poses, others mid-leap, and a few spinning midair with wide grins.

  One illusion broke into a full twirl before throwing finger guns at the audience. Another blew a kiss toward a floating camera orb.

  Her real self? Grinning like a mischievous storm cloud with a plan.

  “What the—” one of the brownies started, but his voice died as every single Wendy snapped their gaze toward him in eerie synchronization.

  “Surprise!” she sang in chorus.

  The troll bellowed and charged, massive fists swinging at the nearest illusion. His hands passed through empty air—and momentum carried him toward the edge of the platform, which had subtly slanted like a hill beneath his feet. The arena itself seemed to skew, shrinking and warping in real time.

  He staggered, wide-eyed, as the floor beneath him tipped. Fingers clawed at the grooved wood for balance.

  But another Wendy popped into existence directly in front of him—just out of reach, grinning behind her puffy tail.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  She pinched one of his fingers. Or…he thought she did.

  His hand twitched. Then loosened. One finger let go.

  Then another.

  All of them, one by one, until he was holding on by the strength of his disbelief.

  “N-No. What are you—how you do this?!” he barked, sweat dripping down his temple. “You no stronger—I. Not. Fall!”

  He fell.

  Landed on his butt, dumbfounded.

  He looked up to see a perfectly level platform and a vanishing illusion of Wendy waving at him with both hands.

  “Watch your balance!” she called, tail flicking smugly behind her. “Who’s next?”

  “Contestant eliminated!” Elder Caelia announced as the troll looked down at his trembling fingers as if they’d betrayed him.

  I barely had to try.

  She tossed a peace sign her sister’s way with a flicker of illusory light, catching Sora’s giggle in return.

  What do you think about my type of magic, Sora?

  Kari wasn’t there. But that was…whatever. Kind of.

  This feels…good. Really good.

  The pixie, already panic-stricken by the chaos of multiple Wendys, let out a high-pitched shriek—just as Nilly suddenly appeared inches from her face, cat eyes wide and gleaming like twin moons.

  Without a second thought, the tiny girl zipped off the platform in a blur of wings.

  “I forfeit!” her voice squeaked as she shot toward the stands.

  “Why was I even chosen?!”

  “Aww… I was just trying to say hi,” Nilly mumbled, shoulders drooping and tail flopping to the floor. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her…”

  Yeah, sure you didn’t, Wendy internally snickered.

  Two down. This is actually working out pretty good for us!

  The brownies weren’t so easily fooled.

  The larger one slammed both palms against the platform—and the ground beneath them rippled, a deep pulse of earth magic surging through the wood.

  Half her illusions blinked out of existence as the shifting terrain threw her balance. Nilly looked unaffected, still trying to talk to the pixie, who was crying near the edge of the stage.

  “Whoa!”

  “Clever little fox,” the brownie grunted—not to her, but toward Nerida. “Illusions can’t hide from proper stonework. Weakest first, bro…”

  “Yeah, I got her!”

  Wendy’s gaze snapped to her friend.

  Nerida had frozen the moment the match began, lips parted but no song escaping—as if she’d forgotten how to sing entirely.

  Fox? Fox?! Oh, that’s it.

  And no—you don’t. Don’t go bullying her.

  Tail flaring behind her, growing to the size of a redwood, she spun in a sharp circle to everyone’s cheers.

  “I’m a tanuki, not a fox!” she barked.

  The massive tail slammed against the platform with a seismic crack, illusions exploding outward like stardust. Dozens of Wendys flickered back into being—some full-bodied, others rippling half-formed like reflections in water.

  The brownies tensed, but she was already moving.

  One Wendy darted behind the larger one, making a face. Another tapped the smaller brownie on the shoulder and vanished. Yet another perched upside-down from nothing, tail dangling.

  “You want stonework? I’ve got layers,” Wendy grinned, her voice echoing from too many directions to track.

  She didn’t just trick their eyes now—she distorted space itself. The platform’s seams twisted subtly, turning straight lines into curves, angles into spirals.

  The larger brownie’s stance faltered. “Where is she? Where’s the real one?!”

  Right next to Nerida.

  Wendy crouched, cupping her hands like a conductor guiding a shy soloist to stage. “Hey,” she whispered, soft enough only her friend could hear. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. They won’t touch you. But if you want…now would be the perfect time to sing. I won’t go easy on you when this is over, though!”

  A beat.

  A breath.

  Nerida blinked, the spell of fear flickering.

  She opened her mouth—

  —and water began to encircle her from nowhere, spiritual force flowing out and converting into liquid.

  Ribbons of liquid spiraled into being around Nerida, dancing up her arms, swirling around her hair. A low, haunting melody poured from her lips—wordless, but rich with longing, fear, and the quiet defiance of someone who had finally remembered who she was.

  Wendy rose with her, the music feeding her magic like a tether. She adapted her illusions, fusing them with Nerida’s song, feeling a fluidity in it that sparked inspiration as she made it become sharper, more solid, as if even the echoes obeyed the rhythm.

  And that’s when she struck.

  From every angle, Wendys moved—an unpredictable cyclone of doppelg?ngers with a torrent of expanding water that had the brownies panic.

  One clone sprang forward with a wild grin and launched a massive tail swipe at the smaller brownie, water rushing after him in a wave that defied gravity, sending him tumbling with a squeak—only to vanish just before impact.

  Another tail came from the opposite side, smacking the larger one square in the chest. Or so it seemed. In truth, neither tail made contact. The real magic had already sunk in.

  Illusions were easy.

  What mattered was belief.

  The brownies reeled backward on instinct—stumbling toward what looked like the center of the arena.

  “Get back!” the larger one shouted. “Bro, use your seismic pulse to escape!”

  “Yeah!”

  Both slammed their fists into the platform, unleashing a shockwave that should have launched them skyward.

  Except…

  They weren’t on the platform anymore.

  The arena’s boundary had shifted subtly, warped by Wendy’s spatial folds. What looked like a ring of solid earth was, in reality, empty air.

  The shockwave kicked in—and both brownies launched themselves backward, directly into open space. They tumbled through the air like flung boulders and landed hard on their backs outside the ring.

  Thunk. Thunk.

  Silence.

  Then groaning.

  The illusions flickered, fading around them as the real world snapped back into focus. The brownies stared up at the sky, blinking like dazed moles who’d dug up into the wrong reality.

  “What… Bro, where are we?” the smaller one mumbled, eyes spinning.

  “I—she—did we…launch ourselves?!” the larger croaked.

  “Contestants eliminated!” Elder Caelia called, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and awe.

  Wendy blew a kiss in their direction to the crowd’s roar.

  “Thanks for the airshow!”

  Then she spun back toward Nerida, grinning. “Now that’s teamwork.”

  “Oh!” Nerida choked, the water collapsing around her like she'd just swallowed a frog. “Ack—that was… wow! I really thought I was doing all of that! That’s scary and so… cool.”

  “Your dual song was beautiful!” Nilly clapped, suddenly right beside them.

  Wendy’s tail bristled, all illusions collapsing and leaving her with a groan in her throat.

  “Nilly, timing.”

  “Hmm? I thought I had perfect timing.”

  Nerida beamed and cleared her throat, a haunting melody lifting her backward into the air. She swam through it, the water rising to support her like an invisible tide—flowing around her as if she were back in the ocean where she belonged.

  Her voice came layered—notes folding over one another, soft and eerie.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so useless… Thanks, Wendy. Umm. What now? I was thinking—uh… Nilly? Why are you acting so…”

  “Ooh.” Nilly winced. She paused mid-skip, her ears twitching as she tilted her head—then glanced toward Wendy. “Wendy, are you…mmm.”

  Wendy didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on Nerida, tracking the widening spirals of her movement.

  The siren was clearly savoring the freedom—looping through elaborate arcs, weaving trails of song and water behind her. Not attacking. Not fleeing. Just…spinning.

  A dance of delay.

  Trying to extend the pause so they didn’t fight.

  That was just her way.

  Wendy raised a finger to her lips.

  Nilly’s ears fell flat, lips snapping shut.

  The crowd leaned in—thousands watching the holographic projection as it zoomed closer to Nerida’s drifting form.

  And…there we go.

  With a subtle twitch of her tail, Wendy bent the space around Nerida’s spiraling water streams, crafting an invisible current the siren never noticed.

  To the audience, it looked natural—just Nerida gliding outward in perfect synchronicity with her melody.

  She completed a final, beautiful spinning dive—then slipped just past the platform’s edge.

  And in the blink of an eye…

  Nerida was seated in a conjured chair just outside the arena boundary. Her vision snapped into clarity, the world refocusing to show where her body truly was.

  “Did that…just happen?” she groaned, cheeks reddening as she buried her face in her hands. “Eyia is going to be so disappointed.”

  She peeked through her fingers. “Wendy, you are terrifying. That was so sneaky!”

  “Contestant eliminated!”

  “Nothing personal,” Wendy called down with an apologetic grin. “Sorry! Your swimming was amazing though! Eyia will understand. Baby steps!”

  The crowd roared its approval—some still laughing, others replaying the hologram’s dramatic snapback like it was a highlight reel.

  Then…silence.

  Wendy turned.

  The air shifted.

  Time to face her final boss.

  The Cat Mother. The ultimate sardine-destroying, reality-warping, chaos-loving super kitty extraordinaire.

  Her fur shimmered. Her eyes gleamed. Her tail swished with uncontainable delight as that predatory twinkle returned for a flash of a second.

  “Ohhhh,” Nilly purred, bouncing on her toes. “Does this mean it’s my turn? Teaching time?”

  Why do you do this, Nilly?! Your instability timing is insane…

  Suddenly, she was everywhere.

  One blink later, and she was fourteen. Sharp teeth gleaming. A little too focused.

  Then she vanished.

  Not multiple copies—just Nilly, moving so fast she seemed to occupy every space on the platform at once. Wendy’s eyes couldn’t track her. One moment she was in front of her, the next behind, then somehow above and below at the same time.

  “Lesson one!” her voice rang out from all directions. “Always watch for—eep!”

  The blur stopped abruptly.

  Nilly materialized right in front of her—skidding and tumbling across the ground as if overlapping two spaces—then, she was standing, hands on her hips, still fourteen and now significantly more serious.

  “Sorry! Sometimes I slip.” Her grin widened. “Where was I? Oh yeah—defense!”

  Before Wendy could react, gentle paws took her hands, guiding them in subtle patterns through the air.

  “Feel that?” Nilly whispered. “That’s someone trying to mess with the space around you. Very sneaky, very dangerous if you don’t—ooh, you’re good at this! But someone is cheating!”

  Wendy blinked. Instincts picked up the distortion, but not her tanuki side—Null-Void analyzing the layers. Like a vibration across threads only she could feel.

  The cat spun, tail arcing like a ribbon of light, and demonstrated a slide-step that looped space around herself in a U-turn.

  Body flickering as she converted it to unstable matter, Nilly’s grin widened—somehow, even with her Null-Void body disrupted, she maintained her grip.

  No way! You freakin’ super cheater! How?!

  “Hehe. So much to learn. Now…try to catch me!” she chirped.

  And then it began.

  Nilly disappeared, sparks flying against the stadium as she skidded backward across the ground, toothy grin splitting her face in a monstrous way.

  “C’mon! C’mon!”

  Wendy moved—illusions flashing like mirror shards, spatial warps bending the arena’s geometry—but Nilly danced through it all like she was made of smoke and laughter. One moment, she was crouching beneath a floating ring of water. The next, leaping upside-down through a fold in reality that Wendy thought she’d sealed.

  This wasn’t a battle. It was a lesson disguised as tag.

  Sora’s story about her first meeting with the cat hit her in the face…with Nilly’s own tail as the mischievous cat taunted her.

  “You’re overthinking!”

  Wendy acted and kept pace. Barely.

  She fired illusions from blind spots, tried cross-mapping folds to isolate probable attack angles, and even used sound displacement to mask her real movement.

  The problem?

  Nilly wasn’t reacting to her magic.

  Not like Kari’s resistance—at least, from what Sora had told her.

  No.

  This was different.

  This felt like her spells weren’t touching the cat at all.

  As if…Nilly didn’t exist.

  And yet—she giggled like a schoolgirl dodging butterflies. Completely unaffected. Utterly untouchable.

  “Very good!” she sang. “Now watch out for—oh no oh no oh no—the sardine army! Noooo! There’s so much!”

  Wendy’s mouth slackened.

  Time slowed.

  Black thorns bloomed from every direction. Space compressed, folding like paper around invisible cracks.

  Nilly’s form jittered—her sixteen-year-old self snapping back into focus, tail gone stiff.

  A voice—familiar and gentle—drifted through the fracture.

  “Careful, Little Star… I can only distract her to force a confrontation.”

  A what… Oh. Oh no.

  Aunt Rose—what is she doing?!

  Then came the skulls.

  Greenish. Ethereal. Wrong.

  They shimmered from the seams of reality like memories that had never been born—Nihility bleeding into the air around them, but not from Wendy. Pouring out from within her, but not her own.

  “Be calm. The only way to face one such as her…is to force her to catch herself.”

  The thorns convulsed, shadows vibrating as if held together by sheer denial.

  “Alas, this is all I can do… Good luck, My Little Niece. Give the Cat Mother my best regards for allowing this rare opportunity with her internal paradox.”

  Wendy staggered back. Her breath caught as she looked toward the stands—

  —and saw Sora.

  White-faced. One foot on the railing, about to jump.

  But something stopped her. Something unseen. Probably her. Aunt Rose.

  A hush fell across the arena as time slowly inched back to normal speed.

  Wendy’s eyes widened.

  Spectral shapes—half-formed, ethereal, wrong—hovered, vibrating at frequencies that made the magical barrier hum under pressure.

  “Nope nope nope!” Nilly squeaked, fur bristling. “Not for teenagers! Bad skulls! Go away!”

  The cat swatted the air, shooing away the colossal skulls—one above seemingly the size of the sky itself. She flailed, waving her arms frantically as the skulls flickered out, shadows snapping closed like doors to something that had almost slipped through.

  “Yeah, go! No food for you!”

  The entire arena had gone dead silent. Even the crowd stopped breathing.

  Wendy was sure even Jin was probably holding her breath, wherever she was.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Nilly gasped, ears drooping as she returned to her scattered sixteen-year-old form. “Those aren’t for fun times! They’re scary! Eh—Wendy?”

  The Cat Mother blinked and glanced around, seemingly confused about where she was.

  What the hell were those things?!

  And why do I get the feeling they could’ve unmade the entire universe—like, everything?

  Wendy took a breath—then exploited the moment.

  With one last tail flick, she created a spatial fold just behind Nilly’s footing.

  It wasn’t aggressive. It was gentle. Precise.

  And when Nilly stepped back into it without looking—still muttering apologies—it deposited her softly outside the arena boundary.

  “Wha—aww! How did I fall for that?!” she pouted as she landed in a sitting position, tail flopping beside her. “I was having fun! I think?”

  Her head tilted as if questioning herself.

  Wendy, heart still pounding, laughed. “Yeah,” she called down, internally thanked her aunt, and promised to say hello again soon. “I, eh…learned a lot! A whole lot…”

  The crowd—still caught somewhere between panic and awe—released a collective breath, then erupted in cheers.

  “Winner: Wendy Moore!” Elder Caelia’s voice rang out, both relieved and impressed.

  Wait, I won. I actually won!

  No…

  I won against Nilly!

  Using Mom’s magic. Using my heritage. Using my brain instead of raw power or blind luck… Well, except for Aunt Rose, but, I mean, it was freaking Evil Nilly! Yeah, I’ll take all the help I can get!

  As the platform lowered, Wendy caught sight of Sora’s proud smile and felt something inside her settle. Not the frantic need to prove herself—but something quieter. Something that fit.

  I’m a tanuki, among other things. I’m Sora’s sister. I’m Wendy Moore. I’m a Moores girl… I have a family that loves me.

  She looked down at the brooch on her chest, its surface gleaming in the soft light—and for the first time since her transformation, it didn’t feel like a cage.

  I’m enough. Exactly as I am.

  Nilly tackled her the moment she stepped off the platform, tail wagging like mad.

  “That was amazing! You were so sneaky and clever, and you made pretty illusions and—”

  “Breathe, Nilly,” Wendy laughed, hugging her back.

  “You did great too, but we really need to work on your stability,” she added. “That water swimming thing Nerida did was incredible, too, wasn’t it?”

  “So pretty!” Nilly agreed, eyes shining. “I’m sorry I scared everyone. Really…”

  Nerida approached, still grinning despite her elimination. “I can’t believe I fell for that. You made the space itself move, didn’t you? That’s…really sophisticated. I’m going to have to ask Eyia to help me figure out how to get around that…if that’s even possible.”

  “Thanks,” Wendy said, then paused.

  Something flickered inside her—an awareness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “You know what?” she murmured. “That actually felt…fun. Like, really fun. I wasn’t scared—for the most part—or angry, or worried about anything. I was just…me.”

  “That’s the best kind of magic,” Sora chimed as she hopped up to smack tails with her, like their form of a high-five. “When it feels like playing instead of fighting. I can see you feeling the magic!”

  “I can! And what are you doing here?”

  “Hugging you up, Sis!”

  “Well, thank you, Sis!”

  “Anytime.”

  Accepting the open invitation and wide open arms, Wendy felt herself melting like a marshmallow. She was loved. As they made their way toward the spectator area, Wendy caught sight of something that made her steps falter.

  Yeon-ah.

  The Kumiho stood at the edge of the crowd, a single tail swaying behind her, amber eyes unreadable.

  Watching.

  Assessing.

  Great… She wants something. Why do I get the feeling things are about to get complicated?

  But, for right now, she was celebrating!

  First tournament win: check.

  Now let’s see what other chaos Jin has planned for us.

  Let me guess…Sora’s next?

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