Elara had always loved old books. The way their pages smelled of time and ink, the way their covers told stories even before she opened them. So when she found an ancient, leather-bound book in the dusty corner of a secondhand shop, she knew she had to take it home.

That night, curled up in bed, she flipped through its pages. It was filled with illustrations of cats—sleek black ones, round-faced tabbies, regal white-furred felines with piercing eyes. Oddly, the book had no title, no author, just page after page of cats in different poses, some stretching, some sleeping, some staring directly at the reader.

As she reached the final page, something soft brushed against her leg. Elara jumped. There, sitting on the edge of her bed, was a cat—a black one, just like the one on the page she’d been reading.

Her heart pounded. “Where did you come from?” she whispered.

The cat blinked, then flicked its tail and leapt onto the book. As its paws touched the pages, the ink swirled, shifting and rearranging itself. A new cat appeared on the page—a white one this time.

Elara barely had time to react before a soft thump sounded behind her. A second cat, pure white with golden eyes, had materialized in the room.

She gasped, flipping through the book again. With every page she turned, another cat stepped out. A grey one. A ginger. A calico. Soon, her small apartment was filled with purring, stretching, and playful paws batting at invisible dust motes.

Panicked yet fascinated, Elara turned back to the first page. The original black cat was gone, its space now empty.

She hesitated, then took a deep breath. Slowly, she pressed her fingers against the empty spot.

The cats around her paused, tails twitching. Then, one by one, they leapt back onto the book, their images reforming on the pages as if they had never left.

The last to return was the black cat. It looked at her with knowing green eyes before stepping into the ink and vanishing.

The book snapped shut on its own.

Elara sat in stunned silence, her hands trembling. She stared at the coverless book.

And then, with a slow smile, she whispered, “Let’s see what happens tomorrow night.”