The convention floor unfolded like a storybook caught mid-spell—towers of merchandise, spirals of banners, and fans in glittering, surreal costumes everywhere Celeste looked.

She hadd to pause just inside the entrance, blinking until her eyes adjusted. Light shimmered off sequin capes and holographic armour, pulsing with the bass-heavy hum of music rolling in from the main stage. Somewhere nearby, someone screamed over a limited-edition figurine. Somewhere else, a crowd burst into applause. The whole place felt alive in that strange, breathless way conventions always did—half marketplace, half shared dream.

Celeste lifted a paw to shield her eyes from a flickering LED display above the Crystal Hall of Fandoms and scanned the crowd.

She was looking for someone—a familiar-unfamiliar shape.

Leif, the lynx from her MythoSoc class. They had never actually met in person. Their friendship had begun months ago when Celeste accidentally sent him her essay draft instead of their professor. He had responded with three pages of annotated commentary, somehow managing to sound both smug and helpful, and from there a friendship had bloomed—half academic banter, half meme exchanges. Since then they had talked about magical theory, fandom tropes, and the way media loved hybrids only when they were tragic or decorative.

He had said he’d be cosplaying as a genderbent Sir Vireon from Stormbond Saga.

Celeste had no idea what that would look like exactly, but she was quite sure she’d recognise his energy when she saw it.

Beside her, Lumina stood silent, both paws wrapped around the handle of her sparkling heart-shaped purse. Her little boots clicked against the polished floor in nervous, careful steps.

“Do you remember,” Celeste began, a soft smile touching her mouth, “when we used to pretend the couch cushions were cloud islands? You made us leap between them or be banished to the lava pits.”

Lumina blinked, her humming faltering.

“You even had a wand made from a curtain rod,” Celeste added gently. “Princess Pyra, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry,” Lumina said at last, not quite looking at her. “I know you’re trying. But it’s just… not there. I don’t remember that. And it sort of hurts trying to.”

Celeste’s ears drooped at once.

“Oh—oh, of course. I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have—”

They stood there for a moment, the pulse of con-goers flowing around them like a river around two stones. Then—BOOM.

“Guess whooo~!”

A weight slammed into Celeste’s shoulders and she shrieked, leaping nearly a foot off the ground.

Whipping around with her eyes wide and tail puffed to twice its size, she found herself face-to-face with a grinning tabby cat in a mesh hoodie and cargo boots. A glittery badge on her chest read:

Melody — Chaotic Neutral, Mostly Harmless

“Melody!” Celeste hissed, trying to gather her dignity back around herself like a dropped cloak. “You can’t just ambush people like that! Honestly, some of us have fragile constitutions.”

Melody tilted her head, utterly unbothered. “Fragile constitutions? Cel, you dress like a gemstone exploded. If you want to be incognito, maybe ditch the tiara.”

Celeste straightened, hands on hips, trying to recover what remained of her poise.

“I’ll have you know, this is a highly accurate recreation of Elira’s Gala Ascension Outfit. And—”

Before she could continue, Melody’s eyes slid to the girl beside her.

“Who’s your sparkle twin?”

Celeste immediately leaned in and stage-whispered, “That’s Lumina. She’s kind of important. Just, um… be gentle? She’s had some memory loss after a car accident a while back.”

“I can hear you,” Lumina said flatly.

Celeste froze, halfway through the whisper, cheeks warming under her fur. “Oh no. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Lumina said softly. “You were trying to help.”

“What are you even supposed to be?” Melody cut in, smirking. “Discount fairy trio from a cereal commercial?”

Celeste flushed harder.

“We are the Magi Girls Three,” she declared with as much dignity as she could salvage. “From Starlight Covenant: Season Five. I’m Elira, Lumina is Solenne, and the third one is a plush keychain in my bag because we couldn’t convince anyone else to join us.”

Melody snorted. “Ohhh, right. The season where they all become space princesses with feelings and shoot glitter lasers at metaphorical trauma. Deep stuff.”

“We like it,” Lumina said, tiny but firm, puffing her cheeks for emphasis.

Celeste looked at her, surprised and weirdly touched.

Melody raised both paws. “Alright, alright. Don’t vaporise me with your emotional catharsis beams.”

Then she tilted her head, her tone suddenly too casual. “Hey, Celeste, make yourself useful and try the Zygurr candy. I hear it’s amazing.”

Celeste’s eyes widened.

For just a second, something odd flickered over her face—too fast, too sharp. Her pupils widened. Her posture straightened, almost as if some invisible thread had gone taut inside her.

“Okay,” she said brightly. “No problem.”

Lumina blinked. “...Are you sure about that? Also that was a bit rude.”

Celeste turned to her with a quick, strange smile. “It’s Mel. It’s all fine.”

Melody gave a shrug, though there was something unreadable in her expression now.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she added, “Anyway, I saw a tall lynx bloke by the vendors talking someone’s ear off about magical resonance crystals. Might be your mystery penpal.”

Celeste’s heart skipped.

Without thinking, she grabbed Lumina’s paw again and started weaving through the crowd.

“Come on, sweetheart. If he’s really here, I want to say hello before I lose my nerve.”

Behind them, Melody called, “Don’t trip over your cape, Magi Girl Prime!”

Celeste did not answer.

She did, however, trip.

Only to collide shoulder-first with someone — and somehow, it was graceful.

“Oh!” she gasped, stumbling back.

The figure she’d bumped into turned smoothly, regarding her with calm, amused turquoise eyes. He was tall—strikingly so—and dressed in a deep violet jacket, sharply tailored, every button in place. A crisp white cravat lay tucked at his throat, giving him the air of someone who had either stepped out of a university portrait or a very expensive villain arc. His thick white Maine Coon fur shimmered faintly beneath the convention lights.

“My fault entirely,” he said, voice rich and dry. “Though I will admit, this is the most charming ambush I’ve suffered all morning.”

Celeste blinked. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

He lifted one elegant paw. “No need. If anything, you’ve made my day rather more interesting.” His gaze dipped over her costume with theatrical appreciation. “Your Magi Girl Prime is exquisite. I daresay the stars themselves would send petitions for such tailoring.”

Celeste giggled, immediately flustered. “Thank you, Charming. Yours is… incredible too. Who are you cosplaying?”

His eyes brightened with pride.

“Dr. Witchwood, naturally. Dragons of Termina II, re-release edition. They finally restored his collar enchantment in the remaster—a crime it was ever absent in the first place.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s perfect. You really got the vibe exactly.”

He gave a small, pleased bow. “One must commit to excellence or not bother at all.”

Then he stepped aside with easy grace, allowing the river of convention-goers to flow between them once more.

“If you’re hunting rare merchandise,” he said, “there’s a vendor down the next aisle selling enchanted replicas. I’d hurry before the truly tasteless snatch the last of the good stock.”

“Oh—thank you!”

He gave her a neat little two-fingered salute and was already drifting back into the crowd.

“Good luck, Magi Girl. May your crystals resonate and your eyeliner remain sharp.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Lumina leaned in. “Who was that?”

Celeste stared after him for a second longer than strictly necessary.

“I… no idea,” she admitted. “But I rather want his backstory.”

She smiled faintly as she turned back toward the crowd—

And froze.

There, between a stall stacked with resin wand charms and a booth selling limited-edition mech figurines, stood a ragdoll hybrid broad in the shoulders, half-turned away as he scanned the convention floor. Two dragon horns curved from his head, crudely spray-painted black in what might have passed for cosplay from a distance. He wore a long coat, plain enough not to draw attention, but there was something in the set of his stance—something too familiar, too military, too him.

Celeste’s stomach dropped so fast it felt like she’d missed a stair.

“Oh no.”

Lumina blinked. “What?”

Celeste’s ears flattened so sharply they nearly disappeared into her hair. “Oh no, no, no, no, no—”

Before Lumina could ask again, Celeste grabbed her wrist and yanked her sharply sideways, ducking them both behind a stall draped in sparkling ribbons and plush keychains shaped like tiny moons.

“Celeste!” Lumina hissed, stumbling after her. “What is wrong?”

Celeste crouched low, peeking frantically through a curtain of hanging trinkets. Her tail had puffed up so badly it looked twice its usual size.

“I swear I saw Dad.”

Lumina went still.

“Oh no.”

“Yes, oh no!” Celeste whispered, already spiralling. “That was him. Or someone shaped exactly like him, which is frankly worse because that would be very strange. The shoulders were his and the posture was his and the awful terrifying aura of imminent lecture was definitely his—”

Lumina looked over the edge of the stall, then quickly ducked back down.

“It’s alright,” she said, trying for calm. “I’m the one in trouble, not you.”

Celeste turned to stare at her, scandalised. “Not me? Lumina, I ran away. Dramatically. And I’m at a comic convention dressed like a magical star princess with a plastic wand.”

“Well,” Lumina said, in the matter-of-fact way only younger sisters could manage during a crisis, “you did run away, and I did sneak out.”

Celeste put a paw to her chest like she’d been mortally wounded by the summary.

“That is not comforting.”

“You said he was away for training,” she added in a whisper, eyes wide now. “You said he wouldn’t even be in Clawdiff.”

“He was,” Lumina whispered back. “He was. I don’t understand why he’s here.”

Celeste stared at her for one long, horrified beat.

Then she began to unravel properly.

“Oh, stars above, I’m in so much trouble.” She pressed both paws to her cheeks. “I’m actually doomed. Properly doomed. He’s going to take one look at me and do that very quiet disappointed stare and I’ll simply perish on the spot. I won’t even make it to an argument. I’ll just crumple politely.”

Lumina, despite herself, looked like she was trying not to laugh.

Celeste continued in a hushed rush, each sentence somehow worse than the last.

“I knew I should’ve worn something less noticeable. Why did I wear the stars? The stars are memorable. He’ll remember the stars. Oh, this is awful. What if he already saw us? What if he’s making his way over right now? What if he says my full name in public?”

“Celeste—”

“And what do I even say?” she whispered, horrified. “‘Hello Father, fancy seeing you here while I’m technically fleeing the house and possibly corrupting Lumina with fandom culture?’”

“Celeste—”

“I can’t be grounded. I’m an adult. Can you ground an adult? He might find a way. He has a military face, Lumina. Military faces always find a way.”

That was when a pair of soldiers passed by the end of the aisle.

Both sisters went rigid.

Without warning, Celeste straightened at once and grabbed a nearby plush from the stall—some round sparkly creature with too many eyes—then turned it over in her paws with exaggerated calm.

“Yes,” she said, much too brightly, “what an entirely normal plush toy. Very plush. Very… toy-like.”

Lumina, catching on a second later, picked up a wand from the next display and squinted at it like a serious customer.

“Mhm,” she said solemnly. “Very sparkly. Probably overpriced.”

The soldiers glanced their way as they passed, armour clicking softly, then continued on without slowing.

Celeste did not breathe until they were gone.

The second they disappeared around the corner, she sagged with visible relief.

“Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was about to faint and become a cautionary tale.”

Lumina lowered the wand. “They’re gone.”

“Yes, but he might not be.” Celeste risked another peek between the hanging charms and immediately recoiled. “I can’t see him now, which is somehow not helping.”

Lumina adjusted her purse strap and frowned toward the aisle. “Maybe it wasn’t him.”

Celeste looked at her flatly. “Lumina, I know our father’s silhouette. It’s been haunting my sense of personal freedom for months.”

That finally got a tiny snort out of Lumina.

Celeste clutched the plush tighter to her chest and exhaled shakily.

“Right,” she whispered. “New plan. We act natural, we do not panic, and we absolutely do not let him catch us looking guilty.”

Lumina tilted her head. “How do we do that?”

Celeste stared at her for a beat, then admitted in a small, tragic voice—

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”