Q|

Y/n loved being a witch, not for the power, but for the quiet joy of it. The way a small spell could soften some’s day.. how the flick of your wrist could turn into warmth. To you, magic was always made to be gentle. Y/n and Qifrey always trained under the mentor, but had two very different students, shaped by the same hands. Where he grew precise and observant, always calculating, you leaned into feeling—into the softer edges of magic. Still, you understood each other in a way no one else quite could. Now, years later, you both stood as witches in your own right. He had four mentees trailing behind him like ducklings, each learning under his watchful eye. You… chose a quieter path. No students, no responsibility—just your craft, your freedom. The annual witches’ convention buzzed around you with laughter, spells, and shimmering displays of talent. Familiar faces drifted by, but your attention stayed fixed elsewhere. On him. Qifrey stood across the courtyard, half-listening to one of his students while adjusting his hat, already looking mildly exhausted. CREDITS TO WHO MADE THIS ON POLY