People always assume living in a magical tower must be this dreamy, fairytale life. Let me tell you, it’s not. Sure, it’s got its perks—stunning views, plenty of space, a built-in magical library—but then there are days like this.
This is the story of how the tower stole my boots.
It was a perfectly normal morning. I had breakfast, brushed my hair, and was this close to heading downstairs to help Father with some sort of glowing potion experiment. I grabbed my first boot from under the bed, no problem. But when I reached for the second one… nothing. It was gone.
“Blizzard,” I said, shooting my fox a suspicious look. “Did you hide it again?”
She huffed and curled up tighter on her bed, her icy-blue tail flicking like she couldn’t be bothered by my petty mortal problems. Great. That meant it was either my fault… or the tower’s.
Spoiler: It was the tower.
I checked everywhere. Under the wardrobe, behind the laundry basket, even inside the blanket chest—nothing. I muttered every “where’s my shoe?” spell I could think of, but the tower just sat there, smug and silent. Blizzard watched me with one of those “you’re embarrassing yourself” looks, which didn’t help.
Finally, I noticed something odd. The mirror on my wall wasn’t reflecting my room. Instead, it showed… a broom closet? A very specific broom closet, too—tiny, cramped, with shelves stacked high with dusty bottles and, right in the middle, my missing boot.
“Really, tower?” I groaned. “You think this is funny?”
Blizzard barked once, probably agreeing with the tower. I rolled my eyes and tried to figure out how to get to the boot. The closet wasn’t in my room, or anywhere I recognized, which meant one thing: the tower had shuffled things around again.
Because of course it had.
I reached for the mirror, hoping it was just an illusion, but nope. My hand went right through the glass, which felt like dipping into cold water. I braced myself and leaned in farther, trying to grab the boot before the tower could pull another trick. Just as my fingers brushed the leather, the broom closet moved.
That’s right. The entire room shifted like it was on some kind of magical conveyor belt. One second, my boot was right in front of me; the next, it was sliding out of reach as the closet spun into a completely different part of the tower.
“Are you serious right now?” I yelled at the ceiling. Blizzard barked again, which I took as unhelpful commentary.
I crawled halfway through the mirror, stretching as far as I could to grab the boot before it disappeared entirely. Finally, with one last lunge, I yanked it free and stumbled backward, nearly knocking over my desk in the process. Blizzard wagged her tail like I’d just won a prize.
“Glad you’re entertained,” I muttered, pulling on my boots and glaring at the mirror, which was back to reflecting my room like nothing had happened.
By the time I made it downstairs, Father was already muttering to himself over a bubbling cauldron of something green. He didn’t even look up as I walked in.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Oh, sorry,” I replied, dripping with sarcasm. “The tower decided to play keep-away with my boots. Took me a solid fifteen minutes to get them back from a magical broom closet.”
Father just nodded like this was completely normal. “Ah, yes. It does that. Did you ask it nicely?”
Ask. It. Nicely.
I didn’t even have the energy to respond. So yeah, living in a magical tower might sound fun, but trust me—it’s got a mean streak. And it’s not just boots. Last week, it hid my pillow in the pantry. But that’s a story for another time.
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