26

  The day after the Christmas program, the school was alive with its usual joy—yet something in the air felt different for Katherine. It was the last school day before the two–week Christmas break, the day everyone would deliver the food and gifts gathered during the fundraising event to the visiting indigenous families. The gym was decorated in garlands and warm lights, tables arranged with gifts wrapped in recycled paper, baskets of goods, and trays of homemade food.

  But while everyone laughed, traded sweets, and chatted, Katherine was trembling.

  She had spent the previous night baking cookies—burning the first two batches, too sweet on the third, too flat on the fourth—until finally, near midnight, she made one that tasted just right. She wrapped them in a small, simple box tied with a pale ribbon. Along with it, she bought a soft, dark-blue gaiter from her allowance—simple, but warm, something practical and thoughtful.

  Her hands shook as she held the gifts to her chest.

  She walked back and forth behind the bleachers, then toward the gym gate, then back again.

  Her classmates Yunis and Lays watched her in disbelief.

  “Katherine, if you don’t do it now—” Yunis whispered.

  “You’re going to regret it forever,” Lays finished with dramatic flair.

  Katherine swallowed hard. The thought of approaching Finn made her heart drum wildly. Every time she looked at him across the gym—passing gifts to children, smiling, sleeves rolled up—her chest tightened.

  This time she thought, I have to do it.

  She took a deep breath, tightened her grip around the box, and stepped forward—

  But she froze.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Because something had entered the gym.

  Not a student.

  Not a teacher.

  Not even a stray.

  An enlarge cat, its fur streaked with gray and dark patterns, its eyes sharp and intelligent.

  It walked with the quiet confidence of something that belonged nowhere—and everywhere.

  Students gasped. Teachers flinched. Some whispered.

  But Finn… Finn recognized it.

  “…Father’s lynx?” he murmured.

  This creature belonged to his father—Durante—the quiet man who ran the family food stall and who rarely spoke of anything beyond their daily life. The lynx should have been at home, not here among lights and singing children.

  Finn approached carefully and lifted the lynx into his arms—but the creature sprang away, landing lightly and turning to look at him directly. Its gaze was urgent.

  “Something’s wrong,” Finn whispered.

  The lynx ran toward the gym doors, then paused and looked back.

  Like it wanted him to follow.

  Finn hesitated—until Maxi arrived carrying several gift baskets with Juris and Nico.

  “Finn! Where are you going?”

  “That lynx—Dad’s lynx—it’s acting weird,” Finn said, voice unsteady. “I think… I need to see what it wants.”

  Maxi didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m with you,” he said, setting the basket aside.

  They started running.

  Neither of them noticed Katherine running after them, clutching the cookie box to her chest.

  “Wait—Finn!”

  They followed the lynx out of the gym, past the school garden, across the small bridge near the riverbank. The air was humid and warm, cicadas singing in the patches of bushes along the walkway. The lynx moved with certainty, as if it knew the world better than they did.

  Then—

  It slipped under the bridge.

  There, hidden by tall grass and stone shadows, was a passageway no one should have been able to see. It was dark, narrow, smelling faintly of rainwater and moss.

  Maxi stared. “How did this… exist here?”

  The lynx led them inside.

  Their footsteps echoed, water dripping from stone. The deeper they went, the cooler the air became.

  Finally, they reached a dead end.

  Just stone. Just silence.

  The lynx sat and waited.

  Finn stepped forward to approach—

  “Finn!”

  He turned.

  Katherine stood at the entrance of the passage, breathless, clutching her gift box, her face red with worry and fear. She walked toward them slowly.

  “Katherine… why are you here?” Finn asked, stunned.

  Before she could answer—

  The stone beneath their feet glowed.

  Lines etched themselves in pale, silver-blue light. A faint wind spiraled upward, cool as a mountain breeze. The scent of pine and old forests flooded the air.

  “A—magic circle…?” Maxi whispered.

  “No…” Finn breathed.

  “A gate.”

  The lynx stared directly into Finn’s eyes.

  The light grew stronger—brighter—blinding—

  And the world around them vanished.