Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in a cozy café called The Perched Owl, sharing an oversized breakfast platter that Candace had insisted on ordering. The place had clearly been designed with pradavarians in mind—high-backed metal chairs that accommodated tails, reinforced furniture, and a menu that catered to carnivorous dietary needs.

'Adelle' was systematically demolishing a stack of meat-packed pancakes while Candace picked delicately at fruit and steak, wearing a silver dress and leather choker with the Slayer's cross hanging from it.

I glanced at Candace occasionally, my mind refusing to believe that this adorable, sophisticated-looking, silver-white fox with a large, puffy, white tail was the dark-haired, tough, bossy biker prad that I met yesterday. The leather choker and cross truly sold her as "THE Good Girl Nazarite" image.

Eventually, for the first time in years, I allowed myself to feel hungry and started to work my way through coffee, eggs and toast with appetite.

"So what's the backstory?" I asked between bites. "If anyone asks about Adelle's background?"

"Transfer student from Whitehorse Academy in the Northern Reach Territories," Candace replied without missing a beat. "Family moved south for business opportunities. Standard stuff—boring enough that no one will dig too deep."

"And if they run a background check?"

"Background checks are generally done via the Astral cast cus dungeons sometimes chew up network lines. The fractalization and binding creates a quantum probability shadow," she explained, waving her fork. "The deeper someone looks, the more real the identity becomes. It's self-reinforcing paradox magic. Same stuff I tagged you with."

"I see."

"Prad Seers think they're hot shit. They presume that the Astral Ocean is their playground, a dead place filled with dead information. They're wrong. It's full of living, extradimensional bullshit. Bullshit that folds into itself at just the right pressure. Loops within loops. The harder you push, the more fractals manifest. Information within information born from information. I bind information sharks together, ke ke ke."

Adelle snorted. "Just say 'it's complicated magic bullshit' and move on, Candy. You always over-explain when you're nervous."

"What? I'm not nervous!" Candace protested, though her mega-fluffy tail was swishing rapidly. "Why would I be…"

A black bloodhound in a long gray coat and dark, slightly reflective, round glasses approached our table. His amber eyes held the sharp, calculating gleam I'd learned to associate with professional magic users, and there was something about his posture and wide shoulders that screamed "authority figure."

Candace fell silent.

"Miss Rhinehart," he said in a deep, measured voice. "Your father has been quite concerned."

Candace's fork paused halfway to her mouth, her entire body going rigid. "Oh. Hi, Goobs! How's the fam?"

"Goebel Sartre," the bloodhound corrected with mild reproach, though there was fondness in his tone. "Scrutimancer First Class, in service to the Rhinehart Estate." He turned those penetrating amber eyes on me and Adler. "And you would be?"

"Das' Alec," Candace answered. "And this is Adelle. They're cool new transfer students. I met them both recently!"

Goebel's nose twitched slightly as he processed our scents, but his expression remained neutral. Professional.

"I'm relieved to see you safe, Miss Rhinehart," he continued, turning back to the fox. "Your disappearance caused quite a stir. Your father hired every bounty hunter and Scrut from here to the Eastern Reaches but had no luck finding you."

Candace set down her fork, her eyes not quite meeting his gaze. "I told him I needed space, Goobs. Just... a little vacation from all the family drama."

"A vacation that lasted four months," Goebel observed dryly. "Without any communication. Your mother was beside herself."

"I'm fine, as you can see," Candace replied, gesturing at herself. "Perfectly healthy, no missing limbs, not possessed by Astral Phantoms or whatever worst-case scenario Daddy cooked up this time."

The Scrutimancer sighed. "Candace, your father's concerns were not unfounded. A young pradavarian of your... particular talents... disappearing without a trace in these times? There are… people that would pay handsomely for a Binder of your caliber."

"A Binder who can bind themselves from notice is impossible to catch, Goobie," Candace said. "Did you manage to catch me?"

Goebel frowned.

"Exactly! Anyhow, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine," Candace said, her voice taking on that brittle cheerfulness I was beginning to recognize as her defensive mechanism. "In fact, I'm going back to school today. Going to finish Advanced Delving n' stuff."

"And your living arrangements?" Goebel pressed gently.

"I rented a hotel room for now, as you probably found out by tracking my card use," Candace's tail gave a sharp twitch. "For a longer arrangement, I'll figure something out. Maybe the dorms, maybe rent a loft near Ferguson H. I'm eighteen, Goobs. Legally an adult."

"Candace," the bloodhound's voice carried a note of gentle reproach, "your father would very much like you to come home."

"Ye, I bet he does," Candace muttered.

Goebel sighed again, a sound that seemed to come from the depths of his chest. "Your father misses you. As does your mother. They're willing to discuss... accommodations... regarding your need for independence."

"Not interested," Candace said. "I know how it starts. The noose is loose then it tightens when I least expect it. Tell my parents that I'm alive, happy and back home to finish my education—that's all they need to know. If they bother me at school or attempt to sabotage my delving career again with their incessant demands, I will Bind myself to another identity and leave Ferguson forever this time. Like you said—Binders of my caliber are a rare breed. If I feel like it, I might have dinner with them in a nice restaurant to catch up on my life. But not alone and not soon, on the account of how irate I am with Daddy. Is that clear?"

"Yes," the Scrutimancer said, his frown deepening.

"Goobs," Candace said, her voice taking on a sadder, more vulnerable tone. "I can't come home. Not yet. Maybe not ever. You know why."

Something passed between them, some shared understanding that excluded the rest of us. Goebel's expression softened, and for a moment, he looked less like an intimidating magical investigator and more like a concerned uncle.

"I know," he said quietly. "But running away won't solve the underlying problem, Candace. You know that."

"I'm not running now," she pointed out. "I'm back. For now. Don't push me."

"Very well," he said. "I'll inform your father that you're safe and attending school. If you need anything, anything at all, you have my contact information."

"Yeah, Goobs. Thank you. Actually… I do need something."

"Yes?"

"Armor," she said. "I'll need delving class armor. For myself and my new besties." She waved a silver-white hand at us. "Scan our dimensions and try to get the best stuff. Use my account to pay for it. I'll bind it to us for tonight's practical."

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"I… very well," the dog said. His eyes flashed silver.

"You…" He choked.

"I bound us into a pack," she smiled. "It's not System-officiated. It's my binding, don't look so concerned! My old delving team probably hates me and wouldn't want me working with them anymore. These newbies also don't have a team. Get the armor by lunch, okay?"

"Very well," Goebel let out. "I'll see you at lunch with your… armor order then."

"See ya then," Candace nodded.

The Scrutimancer turned to leave, then paused, dropping back into a semi-official speech tone. "Oh, Miss Rhinehart? That identity fractalization work on your… friend is quite impressive. Very clean conceptual division. Solid color binding too. Your tutors would be proud."

With that parting shot—proving he'd seen right through Adelle's magical disguise—he walked away, leaving our table in stunned silence.

"Hmpf," Adelle voiced after a minute, "that was… concerning. Fucker saw right through your magical loopery."

"Eh, he's not so bad," Candace murmured. "Course he saw through it. He knows you too well and he taught me a lot of this stuff. That was a clever deduction/guess, not an actual scan. Also, your new identity loop isn't very strong yet. It'll grow stronger in time, don't fret."

"What did he mean about 'the underlying problem'?" I asked.

Candace was quiet for so long I thought she wasn't going to answer. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded rather timid.

"My magic," she said. "The binding, the fractalization... It's not exactly normal. Most Binders work with physical materia—fusing metals, connecting point A to point B, basic stuff. But I can also bind abstract concepts, create paradoxes, split reality into parallel probability streams."

"And that's… bad?" I asked.

"Daddy wants to sell me off, Alec. Not literally, but... there are corporations, government agencies, military contractors who would pay obscene amounts of money for someone with my abilities. He's been fielding offers since I was fifteen."

"And you don't want that," I said.

"Fucking obviously!" she replied fiercely. "I only want to bind myself to people I care about, not reinforce fucking contracts written by corporate lawyers and greedy government halfwits. I want to use my magic for a greater, higher goal… like making sure that the Lynx doesn't murder everyone in Ferguson. Dungeons don't want to be bound with gates and walls, but if I work for corpos that's all I'll be doing—making rich prads richer while making enemies with extradimensional entities. Do you think I want a thing like the Magnetic Lynx breathing down my neck in the Astral? People don't see Astral loops like I do, Alec. They don't seem to get that it'll only take one extra-active, pissed off Legendary Sentinel like the Lynx to dismantle our entire civilization in a blink of an eye."

She wiped her wet, gray eyes with the back of her paw.

"So yeah, I ran away. Joined a biker gang. Lived free for a few months. And now..." She gestured at the three of us. "Now I've got a new pack. New challenges. New… old problems. Ugh."

. . .

After breakfast, we made a stop at an upscale print shop called Gilded Impressions. It was the kind of place that catered to Ferguson's wealthy elite who needed gold-plated business cards printed quickly at a premium price. While Candace claimed a workstation in the back, ostensibly to "print some delving-related materials," Adelle sauntered up to the front counter where a young male wolf clerk was manning the register.

"Hey there, handsome," she purred, leaning against the counter. "What's a girl gotta do to get some quality cards printed around here?"

The clerk's ears perked up immediately, his attention becoming laser-focused on the attractive cheetah in front of him. "Oh, uh, well we do custom business cards, letterhead, wedding invitations..."

I watched as Adelle worked her charm, keeping the staff thoroughly distracted while mechanical whirring and printing sounds came from the back area where Candace was working. Silver fox fingers flew across a computer keyboard, and I caught glimpses of official-looking documents appearing on screen—transcripts, recommendation letters, transfer authorizations.

"And what about gold-flake embossed finishes?" Adelle was asking, batting her eyelashes. "I just love the way embossed cards feel between your fingers..."

Fifteen minutes later, Candace emerged with a neat stack of papers and manila folders, looking supremely satisfied with herself. She approached the counter where Adelle was still flirting with the increasingly flustered clerk.

"All done!" Candace announced brightly, sliding a gold credit card across the counter. "Just bill me for whatevs I sent through, thanks."

The clerk barely glanced at the $500 receipt as he processed the payment, too distracted by Adelle's proximity to bother to check what Candace even printed. Candace's gold Visa card and a big tip to the clerk handled everything without any question.

"You two are dangerous," I muttered as we walked back to my car, Candace clutching her folder of freshly minted fake identity documents for Adelle.

"We can be," Candace bobbed, the Slayer sword-cross bouncing above her chest. "With the right… motivation, my Slayer." She winked at me.

"Stop that," I said. "I'm not your anything of that sort."

"Sure, sure," the fox rolled her eyes at me, pawing at her sparkling, magisteel cross-sword necklace.

Adelle ignored our banter. I wondered if she was too concussed yesterday to hear the Magnetic Lynx's words.

The drive to Ferguson High took less than ten minutes through the morning traffic. As we pulled into the student parking lot, I noticed several pradavarians doing double-takes at the sight of my ancient, rust-pitted Pontiac carrying two very attractive female passengers in their lavish, late summer outfits.

"Ready?" I asked as we climbed out.

"Sure," Adelle replied, adjusting her tight silver dress featuring barely-visible flower patterns woven with magic-crafted diamond dust.

The administration building wasn't too busy. The same fox secretary sat behind the front desk, but her bored expression shifted to wide-eyed shock as she recognized one of my companions.

"Miss Rhinehart," she stammered, rising from her chair. "But you're... how are you...? And who might you be?" She turned to Addie.

"I'm… Adelle Sylvia Dallia," Addie said with a yawn, reading the name from her papers. "Transfer student. These are my school transfer documents."

The secretary's eyes darted between the papers Addie handed over and Adelle's face, clearly struggling to recall if she's seen this cheetah girl before.

"Hold on. I'll... I'll let the Principal know," she managed, rapidly tapping on her keyboard.

She looked at the screen in about a minute. "Okay, Principal Kerberos will see you. Go ahead."

. . .

The ancient mastiff's weathered face showed no surprise whatsoever as he surveyed our little group as we entered.

"Ah, Mr. Foster," he said with a look of approval. "I see you've assembled a delving team."

"Sir?" I blinked, not sure where this was going.

"Come in and sit, all of you." He gestured. "We should discuss your new… academic arrangements."

Once we were seated across from his massive redwood desk, Principal Kerberos steepled his fingers and regarded us with those sharp, ancient eyes.

"Miss Rhinehart," he began, "welcome back to Ferguson High. I trust your... vacation... was educational?"

"Very educational, sir," Candace replied without missing a beat. "Really needed a break."

"And Miss Dallia," he continued, turning to Adelle. "What brings you to our humble institution?"

"My family's business relocated," Adelle said, sliding into her cover story. "Northern Reach Territories was too cold for my taste."

Principal Kerberos nodded slowly, though I could have sworn I saw the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Of course. And naturally, you both wish to join Mr. Foster in the Advanced Dungeoneering curriculum?"

"Yes," both girls replied in unison.

"Excellent." The old dog made a note on a tablet. "I do so appreciate talented, well-bred students who understand the value of... practical education."

Something in his tone made my skin crawl, but before I could ask what he meant, he was standing and gesturing toward the door.

"Your first class begins in fifteen minutes," he said. "Do try to make a good impression on Professor Fern. She has quite high standards for her students."

We filed out of the office. The secretary handed the two girls their printed schedules which was basically the same magic sheet as I got.

Once we were out in the hallway, I pulled out my phone to check the time and noticed a notification explosion on my Pradstagram—dozens of missed messages from Kristi, all timestamped from late last night and a few from early this morning.

[✨Stellaris]: Alec where the hell are you???

[✨Stellaris]: ANSWER YOUR PHONE

[✨Stellaris]: WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME

[✨Stellaris]: You better not be in the fucking Highway 69 dungeon

[✨Stellaris]: The gate guards said you left town

[✨Stellaris]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ALEC

The messages continued in that vein, growing increasingly frantic and angry, until they abruptly stopped around 1 AM. Then, much later, at around 4 AM, just one final message:

[✨Stellaris]: im so sorry pls dont hate me

My chest tightened reading that last message. I could picture her sitting in her glider somewhere over the wilderness, probably beating herself up over the quest binding while I was snoozing in a luxury hotel suite.

[Alecai🌲]: i dont hate u

I typed back quickly, then added:

[Alecai🌲]: see you in class?

The typing indicator appeared almost immediately.

[✨Stellaris]: yes

[✨Stellaris]: hi

[✨Stellaris]: am already there

"Everything alright?" Candace asked, glancing at me.

"Yep," I said, pocketing the phone. "Just… friend stuff. Come on, let's go face whatever Professor Fern has in store for us."

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