The Magical Misadventures of Eli Wallace

05

Where There's A Magical Letter

It was one of those afternoons where I had exactly zero plans to be productive. Max was already snoring softly at the foot of my bed, and I was just drifting off into a nap that I'd fully earned after surviving another chaotic morning. In fact, the dorm was actually peaceful for once—no enchanted TV dragging me into drama, no cookbook throwing shade at my life choices.

Just a nice peaceful afternoon...

Naturally, that peace didn't last.

I was jolted awake by the sound of something whooshing above my head, followed by the unmistakable sparkle explosion of magic gone wrong. I blinked as glitter rained down on me, coating everything like a rogue arts and crafts project.

"What the—?" I sputtered, sitting up and wiping glitter off my face. "Seriously?"

Max, still half-asleep, lifted his head and wagged his tail like glitter bombs were a totally normal occurrence in our lives. And, honestly, they kind of were.

I looked up to find an envelope—yes, an actual envelope—slowly floating down from the ceiling. It had a red wax seal on it, the kind you see in old period piece dramas or movies. And of course, it was leaving a trail of glitter in its wake, because why not?

It finally landed in my lap, and I groaned. "Great. Sparkly mail. Exactly what I needed today."

Max, who had somehow managed to get glitter stuck to his nose, barked happily, clearly thrilled by the sparkly chaos. I groaned, eyeing the red seal, which bore the unmistakable insignia of the Fairy Godmother Association. Because of course it had to be official.

I broke the seal and pulled out a piece of parchment—yes, actual parchment, because apparently, normal paper wasn't fancy enough for magical mail. The handwriting was just as obnoxiously fancy as the seal.

Dear Eli Wallace,
Congratulations! You've been assigned your very first wish to grant. Please proceed to the location specified at the back of this parchment and fulfill your duty with grace and style.
Good luck!
P.S. No pressure.

I stared at the letter, my brain refusing to process the words "no pressure."

No pressure?

Did they not realize that "no pressure" was practically a magical death sentence? The last time someone said "no pressure," I ended up accidentally turning Max into the guardian of the underworld. So yeah, pressure was definitely in the equation here.

"Max," I sighed, tossing the envelope on the nightstand near the bed. "Looks like I'm officially on Fairy Godmother duty. This is going to be a disaster."

Max wagged his tail, completely oblivious to the impending catastrophe that was my life. I envied his carefree existence.

As if sensing my dread, the TV decided it was time to make its grand entrance. It flickered on, the subtitles appearing in a glittery font that almost matched the envelope's obnoxious sparkle. Oh, darling, your first assignment! How exciting! This is going to be a total mess, I can't wait.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered, rubbing my temples as a headache was starting to form "Glad to know you're on my side."

The TV ignored my sarcasm, flashing a clip from some reality show where people were throwing drinks at each other. Don't worry, darling. It'll be fabulous.

Before I could respond, the cookbook fluttered open on the kitchen counter, its pages dramatically flipping back and forth. "Honey, you're going out in that?" it asked, its tone dripping with judgment. "I don't care what this mission is, you cannot grant wishes in sweatpants."