Alex’s life was normal. Ordinary. Routine.

Every morning, she woke up as the sun rose over the rooftops of Paris. She got dressed, grabbed a croissant and a cup of coffee for breakfast, then left her apartment to go to work.

Alex owned her own book café: part bookstore, part coffee shop. It had been her dream to open the shop on the streets of Paris since the first time she’d set foot there. It was called Le Café de L’académie: The Academia Café. The café combined all her favorite things: books, coffee, old historic buildings, and peaceful places to spark creativity.

After work, Alex bought a bite for lunch and went to meet her boyfriend at their usual rendez-vous.

The Louvre was only a few minutes’ walk from her café, which was one of the reasons why she’d chosen its spot. She could walk to the famous museum every day after work, and being near big tourist attractions really helped buisness.

Alex would meet her boyfriend outside the museum every day after work, and every day, he was waiting for her.

Evander was the perfect boyfriend. They had met in college, where they had connected over their love of Paris, literature, and Renaissance artwork. They didn’t fight much (they had fought plenty in college), and they didn’t live far apart. Evander always made her laugh and always knew exactly what to say.

Today when she walked up to their usual spot outside the Louvre, she found him waiting with a box of macarons. Her favorite.

“I bought these from la pâtisserie,” Evander said as she sat down next to him. “Some pistache, your favorite, and some chocolat, my favorite.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah. I know.” When Evander smiled, it showed off his dimples and high cheekbones.

They ate their macarons and talked about how their day had been and how work was going. Evander worked for a French newspaper, where he wrote poetry and historical fiction in the paper’s creative writing section.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about writing a piece about some of the statues in there,” Evander said, gesturing to the museum behind them. “Like, a poem from the perspective of one of the sculptures.”

“That would be interesting. Like giving life to the statues, sharing their stories. Or your interpretation, at least.”

“Yeah. I don’t know, though. Not everyone may find it as interesting as you do,” Evander said, fondly looking at her sideways.

“Well, then they have no taste,” Alex replied with a grin.

“You’re so weird. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“I know.” Alex leaned in to kiss him, and he met her halfway.

She leaned into the kiss, but suddenly, she wasn’t Alex kissing Evander anymore. She was someone else, herself but not herself, kissing a boy that was like Evander but wasn’t at the same time.

What the heck?

Lexi pulled away, startled by the vision she’d just seen. Daydream? Hallucination? She didn’t know what to call it.

“Sorry,” her best friend—the boy she’d just been kissing—said. “Did I do it wrong? I knew I did it wrong. I messed it all up—“

“No, Ev, you were fine,” Lexi reassured him. Her first kiss. She couldn’t help but feel excited. “I was just a little surprised. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Was it everything you’d hoped for?” Evander asked.

Lexi leaned towards him. “It was even better.” She kissed him again, a little longer this time, enjoying the sensation.

Lexi pulled away and sighed. “We should probably head back inside. Before someone finds us out here, you know.” Kissing, she thought.

“Would it be such a bad thing if they found us out here, you know?” Ev asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know,” Lexi stuttered. “This is kind of new, so maybe we should just keep it between you and me, you know?”

“Yeah, okay. Just between you and me,” Ev replied.

“Between you and me,” Lexi agreed. She kissed him again, lightly, just for good measure. Then they headed back inside her family’s lakehouse.

Alex was sitting in her apartment, trying to write the book she’d been working on for the past year or so. She was a slow writer; she liked to take time explore her story before actually writing it.

She was coming up blank on what to write next, so she let her mind wander. Her eyes went to the degree hanging up on her wall from her college, L'Université Américaine de Paris (The American University of Paris).

She remembered when she’d first arrived at l’université. She remembered the Eiffel Tower in the background, the landmark of Paris. She could see the white marble walls, the high arches, the tall towers—wait, that wasn’t what her college looked like…

What was that odd vision? Allie wondered. Perhaps she was having hallucinations because of her nervousness. Yes, that was it.

“Alexandrine,” her mother said, interrupting Allie’s thoughts. “Are you ready to go inside?”

Allie stared at the large main building of her new boarding school. She would live there for four years among other nobles, studying to be the future leaders of their respectable kingdoms.

She herself was a princess and had to study not only to be a good leader, but to be a good wife and mother to her future husband and heirs to the throne. However, she would mostly be studying the qualities required for the latter.

And so here she was, at the Academy for Royalty and Nobility. She would have to live with a roomate in a large dorm; this was to encourage students to get to know one another and form friendships that may help forge future alliances between kingdoms and important noble houses.

This school would be good for her, her mother had said. It would help her come out of her shell after the tragic incident that had left her family shell-shocked and had resulted in her self-isolation from the rest of the world.

Allie felt she would never be ready for this, for rejoining the world, not after what had happened three years ago. But she figured she would be forced to at some point. Why not try to make some new friends and learn important life skills while she was at it?

“I think I’m ready,” Allie said by way of reply to her mother’s earlier question.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the doors of the school.

Alex sat at the little table on the small balcony of her apartment. She and Evander were eating dinner together, watching the rest of Paris go by.

Most people in France wouldn’t be eating dinner until 7 or 8 o’clock. But Alex and Evander, even after living in Paris for six years, were still on an American meal schedule.

It was around 6 o’clock, and many Parisians were on their way home from work or shopping to get ingredients for dinner.

Alex had gone out to buy food a little while after her last “vision,” as she’d decided to call them. She wasn’t exactly sure what the daydreams were, or what they could possibly mean. Was she going crazy? Should she tell Evander about them, or would that only cause unnecessary worry? She felt fine, not as if she were going insane at all.

“You okay?” Evander asked her, startling her out of her reverie. “You look a million miles away.”

“Maybe I am,” Alex replied. “Perhaps I’m in Australia right now, wondering if I can actually pet koalas.”

“Is that where your new book takes place? Australia?”

“Mon Dieu, no. I don’t know a thing about Australia except that I probably shouldn’t pet koalas, no matter how fluffy and adorable they are.”

“Speaking of fluffy and adorable…” Evander trailed off as Alex’s cat, Mr. Snuggles, jumped up onto the middle of the table.

“Snuggles, get off the table! You’re getting your paws in my cheese puffs! I worked hard on those!”

Evander scooped up the little golden Tabby and set him in his lap. Mr. Snuggles meowed and eyed the food on the table.

Alex had made steak frites (steak and fries) and gougères (cheese puffs). Mr. Snuggles was currently eyeing the steak hungrily.

“Don’t even think about it,” Alex warned him. “I already fed you, less than an hour ago.”

“Aw, come on. He can have a little bit.” Evander picked up a piece of steak off his plate and gave it to Mr. Snuggles.

“Don’t feed him from the table! He’s gonna get used to it!”

“How else are we supposed to keep our close relationship? It is a bond built on food and cuddles,” Evander said, nuzzling the cat with his cheek.

Alex laughed at him. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit out of it.”

Evander gave a mock salute and grabbed another cheese puff.

Suddenly, they heard a low, loud rumbling off in the distance. Mr. Snuggles yowled and sprinted back inside.

“Sounds like a storm’s coming,” Evander commented, taking a bite of his cheese puff.

“Wanna go watch it when it comes around?” Alex asked. Watching rainstorms was one of her favorite things to do. There was something about the sound of the rain and thunder and the quick flashes of lightning that she found soothing.

Evander sighed. “Fine. But if I get soaking wet, I’m blaming you.”

About an hour later, the two on them were lying on the roof of Alex’s apartment building, watching as rain drizzled lightly from the sky; it wasn’t a downpour, as Alex had expected.

“It’s a miracle we haven’t been electrocuted yet,” Evander said.

“You know there’s only like a one in a thousand chance of being struck by lightning, right?”

“Still. I think we should count ourselves lucky.”

The two of them lay there together, Evander’s head on Alex’s chest, watching the storm. Alex couldn’t help being lulled by its beauty. The way the lightning lit up the sky, the way the dark clouds clumped together, the way the rain dripped off the leaves of the trees in the forest…

Drina lay watching the storm, her dragon’s head resting on her chest.

“What an odd vision,” she muttered, half to herself and half to Mr. Snuggles. “Do you think it’s prophetic? Should I look into it?”

Mr. Snuggles grumbled softly.

“I’m gonna look into it.” Drina got up, stretched, and walked back into her little cottage.

She got out a cup and walked over to the large cauldron of water resting over the fire, left over from her supper. She spooned a bit of the water into the cup and went over to her cupboard, pulling out a few herbs: rosemary, thyme, and moonflower petals. She sprinkled them into the cup, then went to pull out her spellbook.

The book was written in the Ancient Language, which few could read. Among those few were witches, though Drina liked to think of herself more as a healer. When people thought of witches, they thought of spells and potions and dark magik. Drina simply used herbs to perform tasks, such as healing or glimpsing into the future, which she was attempting now.

She began to mix her concoction and read from her spellbook. “Donnez-moi un aperçu de l'avenir. Donnez-moi un aperçu du sens de cette vision.”

When she’d finished reading, she stopped mixing and let the water settle a bit. Then, she blew lightly on its surface.

Only those who were knowledgeable in natural magiks could read the meaning of the floating debris in that cup. Luckily for Drina, she was one of the best practitioners of natural magiks known.

“Looks like there’s change coming,” Drina said, partially for the benefit of Mr. Snuggles, who had his head poking through Drina’s cottage window. “Something big. Something that will change our lives as we know it.”