Phei reached out, mirroring the motion with a flourish of his own, fingers wiggling just above her gloved hand. “Lady Roarke, thank you for emerging from your… interests to take this on. We couldn’t entrust this service to just anyone.”He hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “I believe you remember last time.”

  The brief flicker of discomfort that crossed his usually impassive face said more than a full confession ever could.

  Lady Roarke let out a soft, knowing hum. “Oh, I remember.” Her eyes drifted toward me, just briefly, but with the weight of someone mentally measuring the distance between a fuse and a stick of dynamite.

  They leaned in, exchanging a few low words, voices slipping into that careful, professional hush people use when trying not to spook the magical equivalent of a live grenade. I caught my name, well, not my name exactly. “The apprentice” was said at least twice. Also “unsupervised,” and something that sounded suspiciously like “containment protocols.”

  Their eyes flicked my way again.

  I gave a small, awkward wave.

  Lady Roarke raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Phei. “Well,” she said, adjusting her goggles with a click, “let’s hope this one doesn’t explode.”

  They both broke out in laughter, sharp, sudden, and just a little too knowing. Not mocking, exactly, but the kind of laugh people share when they’ve survived something wild and can’t believe they’re doing it again.

  Lady Roarke gave Phei a final pat on the shoulder, then turned and strolled toward me with the easy confidence of someone who had ridden gryphons before breakfast.

  “Hey, kid,” she said, flashing a grin as she passed. “Try not to fall off the gryphon, don’t feed the attractions, and if something glows, ask first.”

  I fell in step beside her as we approached the gryphon, which gave a soft huff and shifted its wings, the iridescent feathers shimmering in the colored light of the floating signs overhead.

  “So,” she said, swinging up into the saddle in one smooth motion. “Apprentice, huh? Volunteered or drafted?”

  I hesitated, trying to climb up with half the grace and none of the balance. “Technically? Book signing gone wrong.”

  She snorted. “Ah. One of those stories. You know, the universe has a funny way of picking its champions. Usually right after they’ve done something incredibly stupid.”

  “I thought I was getting a signed limited edition,” I muttered, finally settling in behind her.

  “Instead, you got the deluxe backstage pass. Lucky you.”

  The gryphon launched off the platform in a single, powerful leap, wings snapping open as we soared into the air. Wind rushed past, and the city below unfolded like a storybook on overdrive, sparkling towers, enchanted rides, and impossible architecture sprawling beneath us.

  “Hold on,” Lady Roarke called over the wind, her voice casual. “First stop minion acquisition. And if anyone offers you a cursed egg or a bargain elemental? Say no.”

  “Wait, bargain elemental?”

  She laughed again, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

  I tried to take in the view, but the wind clawed at my face like an overexcited air elemental. My eyes were nearly shut, watering wildly. Those goggles of hers definitely weren’t just for style. I made a mental note: next magical ride, bring gear.

  We dipped lower, skimming above the glowing skyline, and I caught a glimpse of a floating sign, letters swirling with animated magic: Welcome to Thralls & Thrills!

  The gryphon landed smoothly on a floating waystation, half platform, half rest stop, suspended by glowing runes and questionable physics. Before I could even think about dismounting, Roarke had already hopped off and was sprinting full-speed toward the edge.

  She turned just long enough to flash a grin over her shoulder. “See you below!”

  “What?”

  I stumbled after her, reaching the edge just in time to see her casually gliding down… on a carousel-style axolotl. A glowing, bubblegum-pink, magical amphibian, complete with feathered gills and oversized cartoon eyes, trailing streams of glittering water as it descended in a slow, lazy spiral, like she was starring in the most enchanted underwater parade ever imagined. She leaned back in the saddle, one hand resting on the reins, the other waving up at me like this was all perfectly normal.

  I stood there, squinting down, trying to figure it out. Was I supposed to run and jump to summon one? Was there a button? A chant? Think really hard about horses? Or was Roarke just being needlessly theatrical?

  I looked around for clues.

  Before I could decide if I was being tested or punked, a couple to my right opened what looked like a simple umbrella. The moment it caught the wind, it shimmered and lifted them off their feet, lowering them gracefully through the air, as if gravity had decided to take the day off. They floated downward like a pair of stylish, magical Mary Poppins.

  Then, from the other side of the platform, someone else simply stepped into open air and a glowing yellow bubble snapped into place around them, lowering them slowly like a human elevator made of jelly and sunshine. They looked for all the world like they were encased in lemon gelatin.

  Okay. So… options.

  I looked back down at Roarke, still drifting like she’d rehearsed this moment.

  I took a deep breath, backed up a few steps, and nodded to myself like that would magically produce competence.

  “Okay,” I muttered. “Just need to believe. Be bold. Do the thing.”

  I ran forward.Jumped.And absolutely nothing happened.

  For a heartbeat, I was just… falling.

  Then the air around me exploded in swirling streamers, and an 8-bit victory tune erupted overhead, complete with sparkly sound effects and a voice shouting, “Congratulations, Challenger!”

  A puff of pink smoke surrounded me mid-plummet, and suddenly I was wearing a bright red cap and blue overalls, drifting down on a giant floating rubber duck.

  People pointed from balconies and platforms above. Some clapped. Someone actually threw confetti.

  I drifted past Roarke, who didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Strong start, kid,” she called.

  Once on the ground, a fresh puff of pink smoke deposited me neatly on my feet. I landed with all the grace of a parade float at closing time, wobbling like I’d just stepped off a spin ride, dazed and trailing the faint scent of bubblegum.

  Roarke touched down a second later, the axolotl’s translucent feet making the faintest splash against the ground even though there was no water in sight. It blinked up at her with wide, iridescent eyes and gave a happy little trill that sounded suspiciously like a xylophone made of jelly.

  She swung off with practiced ease, giving the axolotl a pat between its feathery gills. “Thanks, Sparkletoes,” she said with the same tone you’d use for a particularly well-trained housecat. The creature vanished a moment later in a poof of glitter and soft giggling bubbles.

  Roarke turned to me, adjusting her goggles. “Alright, kid, let’s get you to the Gotcha Goblin Grotto. This way.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply, just started walking like we were late for something and maybe we were. I gave the spot where the axolotl had been one last baffled glance, then hurried to catch up.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Hey, I thought those were just magic constructs, why’d you call yours Sparkletoes?” I called after her.

  She glanced back with a grin. “Look, kid, it’s more fun to name everything. And more balancing.” She shrugged. “I’ve seen what happens to people who stop naming things. They usually end up with titles like ‘The Void-Touched’ or ‘Formerly Known as Steve.’”

  I thought about what she said as we got in queue behind a guy wearing a white and crimson robe, with gold embossing that pulsed faintly with arcane energy.

  “Roarke, not to sound rude, but… who are you, really? It’s obvious they brought you out specifically to deal with me, and I do appreciate it. I mean, I’ve read the Chronicles of Claeffen, like, obsessively. I’ve gone through every book, cover to cover, more times than I can count. There’s a ton of incredible stuff in there, battles, spells, crazy rituals but I don’t remember anything about a theme park.”

  “Kid, you wouldn’t have. A lot of things happen around Magi that they never even notice. Right now, someone could be winning their fourth minion over at Basilisk Bargain Speedway, and we wouldn’t have a clue. Maybe that minion won’t even sync with their magic because they didn’t use the right token, or they didn’t place in the top five. Stuff like that happens all the time. There are a lot of moving parts around us, timing, intention, resonance, luck. Most of it? Outside our control.”

  Something about how and what she said flipped a switch, that now-familiar pull, shifted, things slowed.

  I didn’t try to trigger it, didn’t even realize I was slipping into it but suddenly I could see it again: the world underneath the world. The lights, the air, the mana currents weaving through it all like invisible threads in a too-bright tapestry. The chaotic dance of life.

  And there, just past my shoulder, a bright spark.

  It drifted lazily at first, unnoticed by everyone else, then zipped upward, threading its way through the air like it had somewhere important to be. Straight toward a high platform far above.

  I tracked it without thinking, already feeling the pattern, the pulse, the rhythm I was only just beginning to understand.

  The moment slipped away like smoke through my fingers, and the world returned to its usual pace. The lights flickered normally again. People bustled past, laughing, chattering, dragging their prize creatures or juggling glowing tokens.

  I blinked and realized we were still in line. Roarke hadn’t said anything, maybe she didn’t notice, or maybe she had and just didn’t care. She stood ahead of me, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd like a bored bodyguard with better places to be.

  We’d moved pretty far. I noticed we’d already passed a set of floating mirrors flashing ads for “Limited-Time Minion Variants!” and “Try Your Luck: Golden Egg Guaranteed!*” (*not actually guaranteed).

  At one point, a sentient turnstile tried to upsell me on “fortune-boosting funnel cake.” I declined with regret. Judging by the look on Roarke’s face, the price was definitely a hustle.

  And then, finally, I was standing behind only a few people I looked up at the grinning goblin head above the game.

  Roarke raised a hand and gestured ahead. “Here we are. The Gotcha Goblin Grotto,” she said, like it wasn’t the most chaotic phrase in the multiverse.

  The top of the game sparkled with barely-contained magical nonsense. A huge goblin head sat up there grinning like it had rigged the whole thing. Every so often, it belched out a cloud of confetti or launched a random prize into the crowd below. The music couldn’t decide if it was welcoming guests or warning them.

  I swallowed.

  “So… this is where I get my minion?”

  Roarke grinned. “If the goblins like you.”

  “Wait, what? If they like me? I thought this was a game.”

  Roarke didn’t even pause. “It is a game. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

  She glanced at me, one eyebrow raised.

  “You’ll get something. Goblins love a good show. Might be a minion, might be a shiny variant of a minion with questionable stats, or a mimic that thinks you’re its emotional support human.”

  She broke out laughing.

  “You should see your face. Relax, this is one of the few games where level one minions are guaranteed. No matter what, you’ll get one. It’s the gotcha you must worry about.”

  Right on cue, someone up ahead screamed like they’d just won or lost, something important.

  I craned my neck, trying to get a better look.

  A woman in a huge, elegant dress was hugging a creature that looked like a cross between a hedgehog and a smoke cloud. Its eyes sparkled like tiny sapphires, and it gave off little puffs of glitter every time she squeezed it.

  She was very excited. The creature looked mildly concerned.

  We reached the counter, and my brain couldn’t quite process what I was looking at. There was a beaker system filled with glowing potions, and a massive set of roulette wheels floating above, rotating slowly. Behind it all stood something I was pretty sure wasn’t a goblin, at least, not by any traditional definition.

  The game attendant spoke in the bored monotone of someone who’d repeated the line so many times they no longer cared how it sounded. "Hand over your token and no one gets hurt... probably. Then stand back and pretend to be impressed. Management is not responsible for outcomes, emotional distress, or any entities that may become attached.”

  Their eyes glazed over as they launched into a chant, voice flat like it was their thousandth time saying it. “Wheel of Fate, turn turn turn, give us the minion you totally didn’t earn.”

  I looked at the attendant, still trying and failing to see a goblin. Then I looked at the game itself, wondering what exactly the gotcha might be.

  In a stage whisper, Roarke said, “Hey, kid, pick a potion and pour it in the funnel.”

  I squinted, hoping I could trigger my skill, but nothing happened. I turned my attention to the five potion bottles in front of me, each one shifting color and thickness like a swirling storm of madness. I gave up and grabbed one, pouring it into the funnel before I could start thinking logically.

  The glowing liquid twisted and branched down through the funnel system, changing from glittering gold to bubbling green slime to a misty purple vapor. Then, with a sudden pop, it condensed into a glowing orb and floated upward.

  Above, a massive arcane gear system groaned to life, its cogs glowing with runes as it powered nine floating roulette wheels into motion. Each wheel shimmered with enchanted carvings, depicting potential minions in constantly shifting patterns. The glowing orb bounced between them, ricocheting through the air as the wheels spun faster, leaving trails of sparkling magic in its wake.

  Every time the orb struck a new wheel, a different set of minions briefly flickered into existence on the counter in front of me. They appeared like glowing arcane projections, each one cycling through a dramatic pose or animated action, as if showing off their special move. A heartbeat later, they vanished in a flash of light as the orb launched itself toward the next wheel.

  The minions kept changing. One moment, it was a flaming owl in a wizard hat, flapping dramatically and leaving trails of soot in the air. The next, a suspiciously muscular snail flexed its glistening body, somehow striking a pose despite not having arms. Then a sentient tumbleweed appeared, whispering something urgent and vaguely threatening about someone named Maxwell.

  After that, a levitating teacup with tiny boots did a pirouette before exploding into glitter. A spectral raccoon in a tuxedo saluted me solemnly, then vanished in a puff of mist. A jellyfish with eyes on stalks screamed in three-part harmony.

  I had no idea what I was going to end up with, but I was getting more excited, especially as a few conventional minion options began appearing in the rotation. A small dragon with shimmering scales curled around a pile of coins before vanishing. A sleek shadow wolf paced back and forth, its eyes glowing with intelligence. For a moment, it almost felt like I might actually get something cool.

  The minions started appearing for longer stretches now, each one lingering just a moment more than the last as the wheels began to slow.

  A horned ferret blinked into existence, wagging its tail like it had already imprinted on me. Gone.

  A cheerful slime spun lazily in place, humming a soft tune. Gone.

  A winged imp in polished armor gave a dramatic salute. Even a baby phoenix flared into view, trailing sparks and ash, cooing like a warm bonfire. Gone.

  The orb pinged off one final wheel with a musical chime, hovered in midair for a breathless second, then dropped like a stone into the center pedestal.

  A faint ding! echoed around me.

  Everything went still. I blinked.

  I turned to see Roarke, who had abruptly stopped talking with the attendant. She looked at my face, then at the minion… and immediately broke into hysterical laughter.

  Not just a snort or a chuckle; a full, uncontrollable, knee-slapping laughter. She doubled over, gasping for breath, completely undone.

  I looked down at a log. It was dark grey wood, smooth and solid, with glowing turquoise veins running through it like enchanted circuitry. A card was attached to it with a piece of twine.

  My brain refused to process it. Out of everything I’d seen, this might be the weirdest. There were a lot of things I could’ve imagined. A log wasn’t one of them. Part of me wanted to laugh. The rest was quietly panicking.

  I heard a kid whispered off to my side, “Did that guy just win a stick?”

  A vendor across the way yelled, “We got log polish! Two for one!”

  Another person yelled, "Gotcha!"

  I picked up the paper card attached with twine to the log and read: “What rolls on nightmares, alone or in pairs, or over enchanted walls? It’s Log, It’s Log! It’s shiny, it’s heavy, it’s enchanted wood. Everyone needs a Log! Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a log. What a lucky turn of fortune for you. You wooden want anything else. Trust us.”

  I stared at the card. Then at the log. Then back at the long, majestic list of minions overhead, creatures I couldn’t even name… and yes, in the middle, there it was: Log.

  I looked around at the nearby crowd and said to no one in particular, “What am I supposed to do with it? Throw it at someone? Play fetch?”

  "Better a log than a judgmental geode. My sister’s still in therapy from hers. It had notes." a voice said behind me.

  That sent Roarke into another fit of laughter. Her goggles fell from her forehead and bounced against her neck as she started hiccupping from the effort.

  The attendant silently offered her a potion.

  She took it, still laughing, and downed it in one gulp. “Thanks, Poppy.”

  The attendant nodded. “You’re welcome, Lady Roarke. Happens more often than you'd think. It gets traded back all the time. We still offer partial token credit toward an upgrade on their second minion.”