Barnoby never liked New Year’s. Everyone else was out celebrating with fireworks, fancy parties, and silly resolutions, but not him. No, Barnoby’s parents had always told him that New Year’s was pointless. “It’s just another day,” they’d say. And so, while the rest of the world rang in the new year, Barnoby stayed in his musty basement, tinkering with his spells.

Tonight, though, was a little different. Barnoby leaned over an ancient tome, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the damp stone walls. His tongue stuck out in concentration as he scribbled down a spell, trying to make sure he didn’t mess it up again. The house above creaked occasionally, and there was some suspicious dripping nearby that he really didn’t care to investigate.

“Alright, Sparky,” he muttered to himself. “One final try.”

Barnoby’s beloved, magical, talking goldfish, Sparky, had tragically met its end after a spell gone wrong. He’d been trying to turn water into moonshine—excellent moonshine, really—but unfortunately, Sparky hadn’t survived the transformation. Now Barnoby was determined to bring him back.

He drew a sigil on the table, muttering the incantation under his breath. The symbols began to glow with an eerie green light. From the corner of his eye, a deck of magical cards he’d “borrowed” from Vara the Djinn shuffled itself, as if some unseen hand was rifling through them.

“That’s… not supposed to happen.”

Suddenly, the light flared, blinding Barnoby for a moment. When he opened his eyes, there was no sign of Sparky. Instead, standing before him, arms crossed and eyes glowing faintly, was Vara herself.

“I leave for one day, and you—” she gestured to the glowing sigil—“do this? Again?”

Barnoby blinked. “Vara? I, uh, didn’t expect you. I was just trying to—”

“Summon your dead fish, yes,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “It’s adorable, really.”

But before either of them could say anything more, the magic cards hovering in midair began to flip and spin. With a loud pop, the room was suddenly filled with creatures—some terrifying, others just downright ridiculous. A fire-breathing demon sneezed, sending sparks everywhere, while an enchanted chicken pecked at Barnoby’s books, knocking them off the shelves.

“Oh no,” Vara sighed. “You’ve activated the Great Deck of Immortality. Again.”

A card zoomed past Barnoby’s head, narrowly missing him. “The what of who-now?”

As if on cue, chaos erupted. The demon sneezed again, accidentally setting Barnoby’s favorite spellbook on fire, while the chicken chased a ghostly knight around the room, cackling madly. Barnoby frantically tried to cast a counterspell, but his words came out all jumbled.

“Ralomagniiisi! Crap! Vara, help?”

Vara floated lazily above the chaos, her arms behind her head, looking utterly unconcerned. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

Just then, Barnoby’s skeleton butler, Ted, shuffled into the room, holding a broom and dustpan. “Sir, shall I begin cleaning now, or after the disaster?”

“Ted! Not now!” Barnoby yelled, ducking under a flying chair. A chandelier broke free from the ceiling and started chasing him around. “Stupid enchanted furniture,” he muttered under his breath.

Vara smirked. “You really are a walking disaster, Barnoby.”

He stumbled, struggling to form a coherent spell. His nerves were shot, but he had one last idea. With a deep breath, Barnoby threw his hands into the air and shouted, “Fine! The plot thickens—just like gravy!”

With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he cast the only spell that came to mind—a spell meant to calm farm animals.

Re-lax-o-fraba. Alipausba. And he relaxed his friend. Suddenly, the room went still.

Suddenly, the room went still. The demon stopped sneezing fireballs, the ghostly knight halted in mid-gallop, and even the chicken stopped clucking, now pecking calmly at the floor.

Barnoby blinked. “Did… did that just work?”

Vara raised an eyebrow. “You tranquilized the entire room. With a spell meant for cows.”

Barnoby stood in the middle of the now-quiet basement, breathing heavily. For the first time that night, there was peace.

Ted shuffled back in, looking at the frozen creatures. “Shall I begin sweeping now, sir?”

Barnoby grinned sheepishly. “Yes, Ted. Please do.”

As Ted started sweeping up the chaos, Vara floated down, shaking her head with an amused smile. “You know, Barnoby, maybe it’s time you made your own New Year’s tradition. Something a little less… catastrophic.”

Barnoby chuckled, still catching his breath. “Maybe. But for now, I think I’ll stick to small victories. Maybe next time I’ll try resurrecting a houseplant instead of a goldfish.”

Vara laughed, giving him a pat on the head. “That sounds like a much safer choice.”

And as the enchanted creatures slowly returned to their cards, Barnoby couldn’t help but smile. He might not have resurrected Sparky, but at least the new year had started off with a bit of excitement—and maybe, just maybe, Sparky would’ve been proud.

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