The infirmary is a cozy little corner of Spellthorn—half herbal dispensary, half magical triage bay. Ivy grows out of the stonework. A skeleton wearing a nurse’s hat nods at passersby. Madame Greela, the campus nurse, doesn’t even look up from her tea as Dakota waddles in, belly first.
Madame Greela: “Let me guess. Librarian magic. Transfer spell. Unwanted pregnancy with a minor chaos entity.”
Dakota (blinks): “Umm…yes…how did you…?”
Madame Greela (finally looks up): “Dear, I’ve worked here forty years. You’re the third this semester.”
A pause. Then: “The first barefoot, though.”
Greela sets her teacup down with a clink and waves a wand that looks suspiciously like a knitting needle over Dakota’s belly. A soft pulse of amber light ripples across her skin. The imp hiccups again—this time with a tiny magical burp that briefly turns the room lavender.
Greela doesn’t flinch.
Greela: “Well, he’s settling in nicely. Strong magical aura. Hints of grape fizz and poor impulse control.”
Dakota (huffs): “I didn’t ask to carry him!”
Greela (arches a bushy gray brow): “No one ever does, dear. That’s how librarian mages keep their robes so trim. They delegate.” She leans in and pokes Dakota’s belly lightly. “You’re young, healthy, and magically compatible. This one’ll be a breeze—relatively speaking. No tentacles or wings so far.”
Dakota (eye twitches): “Grrrrr. I don’t feel ready for this.”
Greela (stands): “You don’t get ready. You study. There’s an entire shelf in the library’s restricted section on imp gestation. And don’t look at me like that. If Beth marked you as a vessel, you have access now.”
She hands Dakota a foot balm enchanted to warm on contact.
Greela: “For the floor. And your pride.”
Dakota takes it reluctantly.
Greela (sips her tea again): “Now off you go. Back to the library. Get familiar with your... occupant.”
You know that in nine hundred years of time and space and I’ve never met anybody who wasn’t important before. you’re incredible. pay it forward, pass this to 10 other people. ♥
