The Curse of Feelings (oh ew gross)

The day began like most days at Nocturne Academy: poorly.

A heavy fog hung over campus like a sulking blanket, thick and damp, leaving everything slightly wet and vaguely moody. A banshee was already shrieking at the vending machine for refusing to dispense her granola bar (again), and somewhere nearby, two students were locked in a swordfight with a sentient mop. No one stopped them. Other students just casually stepped around it. It was probably Tuesday.

Just another morning at Nocturne.

In Spell Theory class, the desks hovered a few inches off the ground for flair. The chalkboard scribbled on itself in elegant cursive (occasionally in Latin), and the professor was a literal cauldron on stilts. Professor Bubblen. Nobody questioned it, he had tenure.

"Today," Bubblen gurgled, steam puffing from under his lid, "we explore emotional resonance through targeted hexcraft. Pair up, my cursed children."

Ira was not cursed. But she was partnered with Nilo. Which was arguably worse.

"Okay," Nilo said as they sat together. He clutched his bag like it owed him money. "So, um, just... cast emotions at this toad."

The toad blinked once. Then again, slower. It looked tired of existing.

Ira squinted at it. "I don’t feel anything."

"Yeah, same. He looks really judgmental."

"You brought him."

"He came with the kit! The other option was a cursed lizard with abandonment issues."

Meanwhile, inside Nilo’s bag, the stolen doll twitched.

He hadn’t meant to bring it. Really. But somehow the idea of leaving it unattended felt... wrong. Someone might steal it. Or break it. Or curse it worse than it already was. Or, worse, Vess might find it again.

So now it rested in his bag, hidden in the darkest corner, radiating quiet energy. It smelled like lavender and mild anxiety.

The moment Nilo touched the yarn arm-

Ira jolted.

She didn’t say anything. Just twitched a little. Barely noticeable. Could’ve been anything.

Then he fiddled with the doll’s foot.

Ira kicked the toad clear off the desk.

It croaked loudly and hopped off like it was going to file a formal grievance.

Professor Bubblen bubbled approvingly. "Excellent emotional projection, Miss Mavienne! Astounding trauma-based control!"

Ira blinked. She hadn’t meant to do that. She hadn’t even noticed she’d moved.

Nilo turned toward her slowly, his pale face shifting into a full-blown oh-no expression. With all the caution of someone handling a live grenade, he very, very carefully folded the doll in a paper towel, like it was radioactive, and shoved it deeper into his bag.

From the next table over, Kiki leaned in, bone fingers tapping rhythmically on the table’s edge. "Hey, you good? You just roundhouse-kicked a toad."

She didn’t seem to notice Rommer, who was now engaged in what looked like open combat with the cursed lizard. The lizard had the upper hand.

"I didn’t mean to," Ira muttered, still staring at her foot like it had acted on its own.
"Was it on purpose?"
"No."
"Then it was awesome."

She said it like it was fact, like surprise toad violence was just another point in Ira’s favor.

Across the room, Vess was watching. Not discreetly. Not kindly. She was sipping from a teacup that hadn’t been there five seconds ago, ignoring Ellian’s outraged monologue about class decorum. Her expression was the kind of keen interest a cat shows to a cornered bird, or maybe something sharper. Something like amusement with teeth. Like she knew something she definitely shouldn’t.

After class, she appeared beside Nilo with the grace of a villainess in a slow-motion perfume ad.

"Nilo~," she sang, her smile sharpened at the edges.
He flinched. "Yes? No? Maybe?"
"That doll in your bag looks...familiar."
He coughed. "What doll?"
"The one you were absolutely not whispering to during class."
"It’s, uh. Emotional support. For ghosts. Ghost emotional support."
Vess smiled like she’d already screenshotted his soul. "Of course it is."

They parted ways, but the tension lingered like cursed perfume.

Later that day, Nilo sat beneath the third-most-haunted tree in the courtyard. (The second-most-haunted tree was currently on fire. Again. A banshee was trying to put it out with glitter. It was not working.) Sunlight filtered through the fog in patches, like the world couldn’t decide if it was haunted or just overcast.

He pulled the doll from his bag and held it in both hands like a suspiciously cursed cupcake. It stared back with its black button eyes and stitched smile, exuding an eerie kind of charm that made Nilo feel vaguely judged.

He poked its side.

Across the lawn, Ira visibly shuddered and sneezed so hard she dropped her book. Her spine arched like someone had just zapped her soul.

Nilo froze.

He stared at the doll. Then at Ira. Then back at the doll like it had personally betrayed him.

With increasing hesitation, he pressed a finger to the doll’s tiny stitched chest.

Across the grass, Ira stiffened again. Her posture snapped upright like a wind-up toy, and her eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed a color that could only be described as "haunted embarrassment red."

She turned. Slowly.

Nilo quickly hid the doll behind his back. It didn’t help. At all. He’s translucent, for goodness’ sake. The effort was more symbolic than practical.

“You… did something.”
“Define ‘something,’” Nilo said weakly.
“I don’t get flustered,” she stated, pointing at her face like it had personally betrayed her. “What was that?”
“Uh. Atmospheric disturbance?”
“It’s not atmosphering inside my bloodstream, Nilo.”

Nilo's face scrunched in confusion. She has a bloodstream?

“Okay! Okay! Look, maybe it’s an aura thing! Ghosts get weird aura static sometimes!”
“You poked me again, didn’t you?”
"...Define ‘poke.’"

Behind a nearby gravestone, Vess whispered to her cat, "Oh, this is going to be delicious."

The cat purred. Somewhere, a flower shriveled out of spite. A breeze rolled through the courtyard with impeccable dramatic timing.