The explosion shook the entire Royal Witch Academy.
A cloud of purple smoke billowed out of Classroom Seven, followed by a shower of glittering frogs that rained onto the courtyard below.
Students screamed.
Professors ducked.
Someone yelled, "Not again!"
When the smoke finally cleared, Lyra Everwood stood in the center of a blackened classroom, her wand bent into the shape of a pretzel.
She blinked.
"...Oops?"
Professor Elowen pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Miss Everwood."
Lyra offered a sheepish smile.
"Yes, Professor?"
"You were asked to summon a single enchanted candle."
Lyra looked around.
"Technically..."
She pointed at the dozens of tiny purple flames dancing across the ceiling.
"I summoned... several."
"They're on fire!"
"They're enchanted."
"THE CEILING IS MELTING!"
Lyra winced.
"...Details."
The classroom erupted into chaos as professors rushed to contain the magical blaze.
One student sighed dramatically.
"I knew sitting next to Lyra was a mistake."
Another nodded.
"I've already updated my will."
Ten minutes later, Lyra sat outside the headmistress's office, covered in soot and glitter.
Again.
The wooden door creaked open.
Headmistress Celestia looked at her over a pair of moon-shaped glasses.
"Come in."
Lyra walked inside, hands clasped behind her back.
The office was lined with ancient spellbooks, glowing crystals, and portraits of famous witches.
Every portrait stared at her with identical expressions of disappointment.
Celestia sighed.
"Lyra... do you know why you're here?"
"I have several guesses."
"You failed your graduation exam."
"...Again."
"For the third time."
Lyra smiled weakly.
"Consistency is important?"
"No."
The headmistress slid a parchment across the desk.
"Every spell you cast either explodes, sings, changes color, or summons livestock."
"It isn't always livestock."
Celestia gave her a look.
Lyra coughed.
"Mostly livestock."
The older witch leaned back.
"Do you know what your biggest problem is?"
"My timing?"
"You never trust your instincts. You overthink every spell until your magic spirals out of control."
Lyra's smile faded.
She'd heard that before.
Ever since she was a child, people whispered that her magic was... strange.
Unpredictable.
Chaotic.
Even she didn't understand why.
"You're dismissed," the headmistress said more gently. "Take the week off. Clear your mind."
Lyra nodded and quietly left.
By sunset, she found herself in The Crooked Cauldron, the noisiest tavern in the Witch Dominion.
Her best friend, Milo, slid a sparkling blue drink across the table.
"You failed again?"
"I prefer the phrase 'performed creatively.'"
Milo laughed.
"So... spectacular explosion?"
"There were frogs."
"There are always frogs."
Lyra groaned and buried her face in her arms.
"What if I'm just... not meant to be a witch?"
Milo nearly choked on his drink.
"You accidentally defeated a mountain troll with a loaf of enchanted bread."
"I threw it because I was scared!"
"And it worked."
"By accident."
"Exactly."
He raised his mug.
"To accidents. They seem to be your specialty."
Lyra clinked her glass against his.
"To accidents."
One drink became two.
Two became five.
By midnight, Lyra was giggling so hard she could barely stand.
On the tavern shelf, an old leather-bound spellbook caught her eye.
Its faded cover read:
Forbidden Soul Rituals.
"Ooooh," Lyra whispered. "Forbidden."
Milo squinted.
"That's never a good word."
She flipped through the brittle pages until one spell caught her attention.
The Eternal Bond.
"A soulmate spell!" she announced triumphantly.
Milo frowned.
"I don't think that's a soulmate spell."
"You're seeing double."
"I think you're seeing quadruple."
Ignoring him, Lyra held up her wand.
"What's the worst that could happen?"
Milo slowly stood from his chair.
"I've known you for twelve years."
"Yes?"
"I don't want to be here when we find out."
Purple light swirled around the room.
The pages of the ancient spellbook fluttered wildly.
The candles blew out.
A gust of wind shattered every window in the tavern.
Somewhere far away, deep within the Demon Realm...
A man dressed in black suddenly froze.
A glowing silver mark blazed across his wrist.
His crimson eyes widened.
Impossible.
The ancient marriage seal...
...had just chosen him.
And whoever was on the other end had absolutely no idea what she'd done.