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As Yves succumbed to the enchanting melody of the magic feather, Midnight watched him intently. Her silver eyes widened as Yves' breathing deepened and his body relaxed. Midnight's tail twitched with unease as she sensed Yves slipping into the feather's spell. She too felt the pull of the melody, but her instincts kept her alert and watchful.
As the feather's melody intensified, Midnight paced back and forth, her claws clicking against the stone floor. She arched her back and hissed as the magic in the room thickened. Yves remained ensnared in the feather's song. Midnight kept her vigilant watch, her eyes shifting between the feather and Yves.
What disturbed her was the other one. She was meant to be Yves' sole familiar, the only one bonded to his essence, yet there was another. The one who had saved them both, but who also clung to Yves and emerged and meddled with his energies ever so slightly whenever he lost control of his senses.
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She growled, but the enchanting melody only grew more irritating. Midnight let out a yowl of frustration, continuing her restless pacing around the room.
As Yves sank deeper under the spell of the feather's melody, Midnight grew more vigilant. She kept a sharp eye on their surroundings, poised to react to any potential threats. Her keen ears picked up even the faintest of sounds, and her nose detected any trace of an intruder.
Midnight was not immune to the feathers‘ allure. When Yves had first started to use them, she had succumbed to their addictive magic, just like he had. In contrast to him, however, she had fought against the enchantment ever since. After months and years, her discipline and training kept her conscious. She refused to lose control over her senses. She was her senses, and losing them meant losing herself in the same way she lost Yves whenever he used the feathers.
She did not recognise him when he lay there, enchanted. It was very different from when he was resting or sleeping or healing from severe injuries. It was even worse than those weeks when he did little more than sleep and eat and waste away. In that miserable and shameful state, he was still present. He was still there.
But when he used the feathers, his essence was gone. To Midnight, he was gone. For hours, she could not feel the bond with him, and every instinct compelled her to leave, because her wizard was just not there anymore. It disturbed her. It disturbed her to be in the presence of the something that was left. It disturbed her to feel the other one emerge and meddle. It took conscious effort to remind herself that Yves would be back.
Amidst these disturbing feelings, she focused on protecting the something and their hideout, ensuring their safety against any potential harm. Her senses stayed sharp, her claws were ever-ready, and her fangs bared, as she endured the haunting feather wailing.
As the feather's melody began to fade after four hours, Yves returned. He blinked repeatedly and shook his head, looking around the room disoriented. As he sat up, Midnight finally stopped her pacing and lay down on her cushion. She felt that Yves noticed her just then. He smiled and scratched the slick fur behind her ear.
Midnight snorted, turned her back to him and closed her eyes.
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