The morning after the Festival of Mirrors came with birdsong and chaos — mostly from Kai chasing a runaway slice of toast that had mysteriously levitated off the breakfast table.
"It's the third time this week!" he exclaimed, glaring at the offending piece as it hovered smugly near the chandelier. "Someone's clearly enchanting my breakfast."
Samantha, still half-asleep and nursing a mug of blood-laced coffee, didn't even look up. "Maybe your toast just developed a healthy sense of self-preservation."
"Ha-ha," Kai muttered, jumping for it. "You all think I'm paranoid, but—"
The toast burst into faint sparkles and vanished entirely.
"See?" he shouted, spinning dramatically toward Marcus. "Proof!"
Marcus didn't glance up from the reports he was reading, though one brow twitched. "You're blaming the bread now?"
Kai jabbed a finger in the air. "That's exactly what the bread wants you to think."
