Magic leaves a trace.

Holding the long metal handle, she pushed open the glass door and stepped onto the stone road, bags of clothes clutched in her hands.

She walked quickly, glancing back to see if she was still being followed. Reaching an empty alley, she hurled one of the bags inside. With a few whispered words, the bag unfolded into a tall house, matching the buildings around it.

From behind a curtain, she watched two men pass by, both wearing black trench coats and hats—clothes that should have made them stand out. For some reason, no one noticed them. No one except her.

From another bag, she pulled out a small telescope and climbed the stairs to place it by the window.

Across the street, a third man stood smoking a cigarette. He glanced up, closed his trench coat, adjusted his hat—and suddenly, it began to rain.

Because the house was made entirely of paper, the rain started to dissolve it. She rushed back down the stairs and slipped out through the rear entrance into the alley.

The moment she stepped outside, the rain vanished. Not a single drop fell from the sky. Realizing what that meant, she ran—they would soon notice the house melting away.

From the remaining bag, she pulled out a long rope and stretched it from one wall of the alley to the other. With a word, the bricks between them swelled like a balloon, then hardened into a solid wall.

Back on the stone road, the rain never touched the man with the cigarette. After a few minutes, he noticed the collapsing house.

He flicked ash from his cigarette. The rain stopped instantly, the gray clouds parting to reveal a bright blue sky.

He scooped up a handful of the soggy remains. Removing his hat, he swept it aside, and the mass split open, revealing a narrow passage.

With another tap of the cigarette, the two men materialized beside him in the alley.
“She can’t be far,” he said, gesturing at the ruined house, then pointing deeper into the alley.

The alley had no exit.

She reached into her bag once more and pulled out a doorknob. She pressed it against the wall, knocked once, then twisted it. As she pulled, part of the wall transformed into wood while the rest remained stone.

On the other side stood a man in a tuxedo wearing a masquerade mask.
“Evening,” he said, holding the door open and taking the bag from her.

Behind them, the men searched the dead end, confused.

One approached the corner where two walls met and noticed the grout was still fresh.
“Magic leaves a trace,” he said, drawing runes over it and sealing them with a circle.

There was a flash of light. The runner vanished—along with the grout between the bricks.

For a brief moment, the bricks floated, folding inward one by one until only a single brick remained. It dropped to the ground.

One of the men picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.

At the same time, the masked man closed the door. It merged seamlessly back into the wall as he pulled the doorknob inside with it.