Qifrey ~

Night had gently settled over the workshop, the lamps dimmed to a warm golden glow as Qifrey finished tidying up all the scattered belongings her apprentices had left behind during the day. The four girls were asleep in their rooms; Olruggio was… you weren't even sure where she was, but she wasn't going to be disturbed anytime soon. You had been practicing in Qifrey's workshop common room for hours. Every stroke of your quill, every sigh of frustration that seeped under the door. Finally, you emerged, shoulders slumped and ink staining your fingers.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you murmured. "I drew the glyph exactly as the book showed it, but nothing happened. Not even a spark."

Qifrey looked up from where she was in the kitchen, her eyes kind but inquisitive. "Patience is key," she reminded him gently.

You shook your head. "Maybe I just drew it wrong." Tiredness crept into your voice. "In any case, I'm done for today. Good night..."

He didn't argue. He simply nodded slightly, watching you as you walked to your room. The workshop fell silent as you collapsed onto the bed, disappointment squeezing your chest. You fell asleep, still thinking about that stubborn spell.

At dawn, the sun filtered through the curtains with an unusual brightness. Something felt off as soon as you opened your eyes. Your body felt strange, heavier, different from your height. You sat up slowly, clutching the duvet to pull it off until you froze. These weren't your hands. They were longer, more elegant; your fingers weren't stained with the ink you remembered using the night before, they were clean and pale.

They were from Qifrey.

A wave of panic washed over you. You jumped out of bed (well, actually, out of his bed) and almost tripped over the long hem of the robe you were suddenly wearing. From the other side of the workshop, facing...