I took a small step back.
"Like the one she's been waiting for?"
One of Reika's old contractors flashed in my mind, a grizzled man sketching on a bar napkin.
"Every high-tier contractor is a kind of gate, kid," he'd said. "Some are Yellow. Stable, predictable. Some are Purple. Dangerous, but you know the rules." He tapped the napkin. "Then you got the ones that flicker Red. You don't know the break timer, you don't know what's inside, but you know the payoff is huge if you survive."
Looking at Reva, with that predatory stillness in her eyes... she wasn't just flickering.
She was a one-woman Red Gate event.
Her stare remained unwavering, those green eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my collar feel tight. The fox—Vexara—kept all nine tails pointed directly at me, unmoving.
A full five seconds passed where the only sound was the wind. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor. It twitched again, and the spell broke.
"You should see your face!" She doubled over, shoulders shaking. "Oh my god, Max. You look like I just told you we're secretly married!"
I blinked. "What?"
She straightened up, still giggling. "Vexara just says you smell pleasant. That's all." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Did you think she was marking you for sacrifice or something?"
"No," I managed, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's just that one minute you're marking me for death, the next you're cracking jokes. It's giving me whiplash."
"Sorry. Couldn't resist." Her smile turned playful. "You make it too easy. All serious and brooding with your white hair and mysterious scar."
I huffed out a laugh despite myself. "Glad I could entertain."
The fox made that strange crackling sound again, like kindling catching fire. Reva glanced down at her.
"Yes, I know," she said to the creature. "I'm being rude."
"You understand her?" I asked.
"Not word for word. But after two years, you develop a shorthand." She stroked one of Vexara's ears. "She thinks I'm teasing you too much."
I crouched down, bringing myself to eye level with the fox. Those green eyes studied me with eerie intelligence.
"Thanks for the support," I told her.
Vexara blinked slowly in acknowledgment.
"Careful," Reva warned. "She'll expect treats now that you're being nice to her."
"I'll keep that in mind." I stood back up. "So, Cursed origin. That's what the Calloways couldn't handle?"
For a fraction of a second, the light in Reva's eyes went out. Her playful smile tightened at the corners, a brief, hard line.
Then it was gone, masked so quickly I almost thought I'd imagined it.
"The Calloway lineage spits out Fire-types," she said, her tone flat. "Griffins, Drakes, the occasional Phoenix knock-off. Three generations of the same damn thing."
She picked an invisible piece of lint from her sleeve. "Then I show up with a Cursed fox who does things they can't put on a chart. The family decided that was... unacceptable."
"They disowned you for that?"
"They call it 'restructuring the succession.'" Her smile turned brittle. "My brother is now the heir. I'm just Reva now, not Reva Calloway."
"That's fucked up."
"It's what happens when your worth is tied to what you can summon rather than who you are." She looked down at Vexara with genuine affection. "But I got the better end of the deal."
Vexara made a soft purring noise and leaned against Reva's leg.
"What can she do?" I asked.
"Curious now, are we?" Reva's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Show and tell goes both ways, Max. I showed you mine..."
"My cards aren't exactly functional."
"The Magician is waking up. That's more than you had before." She took a step closer. "Tell me what happened during Hask's class. What triggered it?"
I considered lying, or at least downplaying things. But what was the point? If anyone might understand what was happening to me, it was this strange, intense girl with her Cursed fox.
"He was kicking my ass," I admitted. "Really thoroughly. And he said something about me always waiting for the world to tell me what happens next instead of making things happen." I touched the box through my jacket. "It resonated, I guess. Then everything went weird. Time slowed down. This fog appeared."
"And The Magician showed up." Reva nodded slowly. "He responded to your realization—the moment you decided to stop being passive."
"That's what he said too. Called me boring. Said I was sweeping floors on a blank stage instead of creating something."
"Sounds about right for The Magician." Reva tilted her head. "He's all about will and manifestation. Taking an idea and forcing it into reality."
The wind picked up again, colder now as the afternoon light began to fade. Vexara's tails swayed gently, like flames in a breeze.
"So now what?" I asked.
"Now we experiment." Reva's eyes lit up with excitement. "The Magician responded when you changed your mindset from passive to active. We need to figure out what triggers the others."
"If they can be triggered at all."
"Oh, they can." She said it with such conviction that I almost believed her. "The question is how."
"And you want to help me with this...why exactly?"
"I told you. You're interesting."
"Most people find hobbies that don't involve poking at magical mysteries."
"I'm not most people." She stepped closer, close enough that I could count her eyelashes if I wanted to. "And neither are you, Zero."
The nickname should have stung, but the way she said it—like it was a title, not an insult—made it land differently.
"I should get back," I said, suddenly aware of how alone we were on the roof. "Afternoon classes and all that."
"Already running away?" She pouted playfully. "And here I thought we were having fun."
"Not running. Strategically retreating." I patted the box in my jacket. "Gotta figure some things out."
"Fair enough." Her hand came up, slow and deliberate. The world narrowed to her fingers as they brushed the fabric of my collar. The gesture was light, almost accidental, but a jolt of pure heat shot through the material and into my skin.
It wasn't just warmth; it felt like a brand. My lungs froze. All I could smell was her—ozone and night-blooming flowers, the scent of a storm in a hothouse.
"But this conversation isn't over, Max Sterling."
"I figured as much," I replied. "You don't seem like someone who gives up easily."
"Never." Her smile was radiant. "Especially not on things that matter."
With that, she turned and walked toward the door, Vexara padding silently beside her. At the last moment, she glanced over her shoulder.
"Room 302 if you need me. Day or midnight."
Then she was gone, leaving me alone on the rooftop with more questions than answers.