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“Bend your knees!”

Sweat drips into my eye, and I blink it away, staring across the room at Max. We’ve been sparring for hours, and though Ryan can obviously see I’m tired, he hasn’t called it off yet. I can understand why, unfortunately: I have minimal time to learn not only my magic, but also to simply fight.

Irritated, I listen to Ryan’s command; I have no choice but to obey, as he freezes us until I do as he says. As soon as I bend my knees, the pressure on my body vanishes, and Max leaps at me. I wait until the last moment, then slip to his left, dodging his fist as he thrusts is out at me. I’m not using the Mastigyn, per Ryan’s request--though it’s more because of Teg’Neír’s suggestion. He knows quite a bit about fighting, apparently, and I take his advice to heart more often and more readily than Ryan’s; Teg’Neír did, after all, live through the War of Ages.

As with the past two days, Ryan won’t call off the fight until one of us is the clear winner. The past two days, it’s been Max, but I learn quickly; I’m putting up more of a fight today than I did the last two. We’re both panting, dripping with sweat, exhausted; we already dueled with magic earlier, so we started this fight running on fumes. I don’t even know how either of us are still fighting. We circle slowly, watching, each waiting for the other to make the first move. My breaths come in short quick bursts, and I falter in my strides, tripping over a ripple in the carpet. Max strikes like a viper, darting forward and sending a short hook at my muzzle. I duck, but that sends me right into an uppercut that I failed to see.

My head snaps backward with an audible crack, the force from the blow lifting me to my toes before I topple backward, hitting the ground with a muted thump. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, for several moments, dazed. Eventually, Ryan strides over. “Sloppy,” he notes.

I rub my temple, glaring at him as a headache begins to beat a quick tempo in my mind. “Insulting me won’t help,” I say. “You pushed me to the point where he could have poked me and I would’ve fallen over.”

“And your enemies won’t?” Ryan asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Last I checked,” I say in a low voice, anger building in my chest, “you’re not my enemy.”

“What if I am?” he asks quietly, meeting my glare with a challenging stare.

Something inside me snaps. I lash out with a leg, hooking my hindpaw around the back of his knee and yanking. His knees buckle, and he topples onto his back, eyes wide with surprise. In a flash of motion, I’m pinning him down, left knee in his gut, right paw on his chest, claws of my left at his throat. “Then I should...dispatch you,” I say in a quiet, menacing voice. For the first time ever, I see a flash of fear in his eyes, brief, but I see it. Good. He should fear me. I curse and shove the voice away. Then I stand and dart the stairs to my room, leaving Ryan and Max confused in the central room.

The second I close my door, Teg’Neír notes, “You lost your temper.”

“I know.”

“You should not have.”

“I know!” I shout, throwing my paws up into the air and pacing. “It’s just--something about Ryan…” I growl and punch my bed.

“That’s enough, Lestri! Calm down!” Teg’Neír shouts. His sudden ferocity startles me into obedience--I haven’t heard him so worked up before. “Letting your emotions cloud your judgement like that will kill you on the battlefield,” he says, once I’ve gotten myself somewhat under control. “You must learn to take Ryan’s instructions and passive comments impersonally; otherwise, you may end up distancing him, at best. At worst, you’ll make an enemy out of him.”

“Right,” I say, taking a deep breath and sitting backward on the chair at my desk. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says.

“Not yet,” I say, just as quietly, and check my watch. “I’m not ready yet.”

“Understandable,” Teg’Neír says. “But don’t wait too long.” We sit in silence for a while before he talks again. “What are you thinking about, Lestri?”

“You,” I say. “You seem...very similar to me. Your personality, your...I don’t know. What I do know brings up more questions than answers.”

“I’ll answer what I can,” he says.

“Do you think I’ll be able to figure out how to get you out of that watch anytime soon?” I ask. The questions start to spill out one after the other once I start asking them: “Would you have the same physical body? What about your heritage? What’s your House? Are any others in your House still alive?”

“Woah, woah, slow down!” he says, laughing, as I pause for a breath. “Now, as I said, most of the things I could tell you about my past would put you in danger--”

“From who?” I ask.

“The Council,” Teg’Neír says, then continues on without skipping a beat: “However, in response to the first two--I do believe that, given time, you could break me out of here. From what I can tell, you are brilliant, even by Servian standards, but even so, you haven’t completed school yet. That being said, unless something goes horribly wrong, I should come out in the same form I was put in here as.”

I nod. “That makes sense,” I say. “Was there a specific machine that did it? If so, are there records of it? Blueprints, articles, anything?”

“As a matter of fact, there was,” Teg’Neír says, sounding excited. “Big enough that it could fit myself and one other; however, we were told that it was unsafe to go more than one at a time.” His voice falls, becoming morose. “I went first...the next thing I can remember is being powered on several days later.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “As far as I know, all records of the machine were lost during the War.”

I curse in my head. I hate seeing him this upset. “So I’ll have to do it on my own.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do what I must to get you out, Teg’Neír,” I vow. “Whatever it takes.”

Teg’Neír pauses. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “But I shouldn’t have told you all of this. I probably shouldn’t say this either, but...everything I say and hear is monitored by the Council.”

“So you’re a puppet!” I say incredulously.

“No! No, not at all,” he says quickly. “I just want you to know why revealing too much about myself could put you in danger.”

I hesitate, caution warring against my trust. Finally, I take the middle road. “I don’t know what to say,” I say.

“I understand if you don’t trust me anymore,” Teg’Neír says quietly, almost in a whisper--sadly, if I’m judging his tone correctly. “I’m telling the truth, though...I can’t help what they’ve done to me, aside from warn you. What I’ve said has already put you into some measure of danger. The knowledge that I’m Servian is classified, and the Council forced me to swear an oath that I wouldn’t tell anyone. However, your suspicion about me being an A.I. allowed me a loophole, so I could tell you; what I’ve said about the machine is no different.”

My instincts scream at me that he can’t be trusted, yet I feel the same urge to trust him as I did with Nick. “How do I cast a spell that will warn me if anyone who wants to harm me enters the building?”

“Smart thinking,” Teg’Neír says, sounding proud, “as that type of spell--called a ward--doesn’t draw any magical energy after it’s been cast. However, it is a very difficult spell, and though the wording is precise, it’s twisted and difficult at best.”

“So it’s isolated to Languitic magic?” I ask.

“That is correct,” he says.

I pause for a moment, then nod. “Teach me.”

“Lestri, you--!” Teg’Neír stops himself. “I’m sorry. You’re not a child. I just feel...oddly protective of you.” It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed. “The wording goes as such--” And he utters a phrase completely indecipherable to me.

“Um…” I pause. “What?”

He chuckles. “Drekna sik len tolen kasthnum satar aknin roko inku,” he says, slow enough that I can understand it. “It basically means, ‘warn me when someone wanting to hurt me enters this building’. Properly said, it will surround the building with a ward that will alert you when someone meets those requirements, and it will even wake you up if you’re sleeping.”

“Drekneh sik lens tolen kasnum satar akin roko inku,” I say. He chuckles, then corrects my pronunciation and has me repeat it several times to make sure I have it memorized. Then I tap into the magic inside me and repeat the correct phrase: “Drekna sik len tolen kasthnum satar aknin roko inku!” I feel a sudden outpouring of energy from my body and gasp. My vision turns hazy for a moment, greying slightly, but the pull stops quickly, and my vision slowly returns to normal. I relax, panting heavily as my body shivers unconsciously. I have to assume that the foreign words somehow directed the energy to form the ward.

“Well done,” Teg’Neír congratulates. “That’s a hard spell.”

There’s a pause as I digest that, then find words to respond in my sluggish mind. “Yeah, well,” I say thinly, “it also consumed the extra energy I had been conserving for Nick’s lesson.”

“I have a suspicion that today’s instruction won’t need much energy,” he says. “More attention than anything else.”

I blink, surprised, reacting faster as I recover some energy. “What?”

“Think, Lestri,” he says. “Tonight is the full moon. Odds are, Nick will be teaching you to Shift back to your human form.”

“Ah,” is all that comes out for a moment. Then I say, “That would explain his tardiness.”

“So it would,” Teg’Neír says. “He comes.”

Not ten seconds later, a knock sounds at my door. “Come in,” I say.

The door slides back to reveal Nick, holding a plate of food. “Hey,” he says, flattening his ears to me as he shakes water from his fur. “Rainy today.” Then he hands me the plate. “Ryan says you missed dinner.”

“Yeah, well,” I say bitterly, folding my ears to Nick, “I wouldn’t even know if the entire rest of the city was destroyed. Ryan’s kept me cooped up in here for the past three days.” Then I hungrily wolf down several bites of the food--pun intended.

“Hey, now,” Nick says gently, squatting in front of me. “Don’t be so upset with him. He’s doing the best he can given the circumstances.” After a moment, he glances up at me and shrugs, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And Ryan’s not that good with people.”

I chuckle reluctantly, swallowing a bite before responding. “You got that right.”

“Well,” Nick says, abruptly changing topics as he stands. “As you probably know, tonight’s the full moon. However, I’m not going to make you try to Shift while you’re eating, so I’ll start with a different topic. You know how I always fold my ears to you in respect, while Ryan tucks his tail and bows his head, and Max nearly falls over in a bow each time?”

I chuckle again, remembering how Max nearly toppled off the couch when he found out I was the Heir of Mekin. “Yeah,” I say. “What of it?”

“They’re signs of respect to other Houses,” Nick says. “Mine is generally denoted as the least significant of the signs; the only reason it’s proper for me to do that is that House Jekal is two steps down down on the chain of royalty from House Mekin. Because of that, I’m not required to bow or tuck my tail or any of that. However, Ryan, who’s of a lesser House, does. And Max, whose House is nearly not royalty, must fully bow. If it were someone of the most powerful House--the Lost House from before the Fall--you would have to, at the very least, fold your ears and tuck your tail. If it was the emperor, you’d have to kneel, regardless of House ranking.”

I raise my eyebrow, surprised. “And when greeting a House that’s lesser than you?”

“You can fold your ears, if you wish,” Nick says, half-smiling. “But you’re not required to do anything.”

I take the last bite of my food. “Really?” I say, covering my mouth. “They’re still royalty.”

“But they’re not as high-ranking as you,” Nick replies, amused. “Does a king bow to the highest lord under him?”

“No,” I say reluctantly, swallowing. “But it feels wrong not to do something.”

“Then fold your ears,” Nick says. “Nothing more.”

I grin at him. “You’re not going to bend on that, are you?” I ask, setting my plate aside.

“Of course not,” he replies. “Now, you’re done?”

“I am.”

“Then on to Shifting,” he says. “If you have a grasp of the signs of royalty.”

I nod. “It can’t be that hard, can it?” I ask, trepidation clouding my thoughts. “Shifting, I mean.”

He must sense it, for he smiles reassuringly. “No, no, not hard,” he says. “Slightly painful, perhaps, but not hard.”

I bark a laugh. “You’re not much better than Ryan,” I say, smiling.

“Dark times call for dark humour, and I certainly hope you’re teasing,” he replies, then claps his paws. “Enough with this dithering! First things first, close your eyes--it makes it easier to focus.” I nod and close my eyes. “Now, imagine humans. It can be just one or a million, but stabilize the image in your mind.” It takes me a minute to bring the image to mind, but I nod once I have it. “Okay. Now--and this is intentionally vague--imagine becoming one of them. Will it to happen, and no matter what, do not stop until the transformation finishes.”

I nod and do as he says. Nothing happens. I frown and scan my mind, trying to almost...push the transformation. After a quick scan through my body, it’s clear that I haven’t made any progress. I open my eyes with a growl of irritation. “It’s not working.”

“You thought it would be easy?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow.

After a moment, I sigh and shake my head. “Of course not,” I say. “I’m just in a strangely irritable headspace.”

“Understandable,” Nick says. “Try it again. You’ll get it eventually.”

He’s a much better instructor than Ryan. After giving him a dryly amused glance, I close my eyes and try it again, willing the transformation to happen. Another moment passes before a realization hits me. “Hold on,” I say suddenly, snapping my eyes open. “Before I Phased, I tried to push myself to Shift before I was ready.”

“You encountered a barrier of sorts, didn’t you?” Nick says. “As though some part of you was blocked off from your awareness?”

I nod, leaning forward. “Yeah, but I couldn’t do it without excruciating pain.”

Nick nods, grinning. “That makes it a lot easier, then!” he says, evidently pleased. “It means you know your own mind better than most of my former mentees, or even than most Servians in general. That barrier is still there--it collapses during the Shift, only to be rebuilt after the Shift is completed to stop you from instantly Shifting back.”

A chuckle escapes my lips, then I sigh. “That would’ve been nice to know to begin with,” I say dryly, closing my eyes as I scan my mind for that same barrier I felt...was that really only a week and a half ago? So much has happened since then.

It doesn’t take me long to find that barrier again--sure enough, it’s still there, just as Nick had promised. I poke at it, and it does seem to give slightly, which is new; however, it’s clear that I’m going to have to use much more force than just a nudge to break down. My heart thumps a little as I draw back from it. Then I ram into it.

Sharp, searing pain arcs down my spine. I nearly stop, choking off a groan of pain, but Nick’s cautionary words echo in my mind. So I force myself to endure, exposing myself to the darkness on the other side of the block.

It stops. I blink, then glance down at myself. My body appears human once more. However, I don’t feel the relief I expected after Shifting into this form; instead, I find that I feel less comfortable now, as a human, than I did as a Servian. It’s strange; here I was, hoping to return to my previous world as soon as possible, yet I no longer feel comfortable in my human skin. Even the human world no longer feels like my home. I found a place here, in the Servian world, and I’m coming to realize more and more that I truly belong here.

I look up to see Nick, who himself had reverted to his human form, smiling broadly--almost proudly--at me. “You did it!” he exclaims.

A smile slowly spreads across my face as his joy infuses me. “You’re right,” I say, gaining excitement with each word. “I did it!”

He releases a very childlike giggle without seeming to notice. “Now you can travel between the two worlds without worry!”

“So I can,” I reply thoughtfully. “Hey, how do I travel between the worlds?”

“There are elevators scattered in various locations around this city, all leading up to Pop’s and Ma’s,” Nick replies, nodding at me. “Magic makes it possible. The first few Shifts will be painful, as I believe was said after you Phased, but it’s just unnerving after that. I’ve heard rumours of those who can Shift in less than a second.”

I raise my eyebrow, chuckling. Then I find that mental barrier and punch through it again; it seems that gets easier, as well, with each Shift. “Feels more natural,” I say a minute later, in response to Nick’s surprise at the sudden Shift. I rub my muzzle, then sigh as the last Servian change occurs with a crack.

“Oh,” he says. “You’ll get over that eventually, don’t worry.” I nod as he pauses. “Well, that will be all for tonight. I didn’t have much of a lesson plan beyond that--and I think you’ll find that more time’s passed than you think...and I suspect you have certain plans you want to attend to.” He gives me a sly smile, then folds his ears and turns to leave. “Good night, Lestri.”

“‘Night,” I reply, as he steps out. The door hisses shut behind him. Odd, I think, as I stand and walk over to my wardrobe, beginning to gather clothes. He’s never left so quickly before. Perhaps he suspected I would go back tonight.

“Not to bed, Lestri?” Teg’Neír asks.

“No, of course not,” I say. “Can you connect to my phone? I have a couple of people I need to check up on.”

“I can,” he says. “While I do that, would you mind explaining who exactly you want to check on?”

“Alexis is her name,” I say, gathering up the clothes and stuffing them in a conveniently placed black-and-white backpack. “I suspect she may be Servian, so it’s possible that she’s with her mentee tonight, but I don’t think she’d be a mentor; I think she rather favours the humans’ world.”

“Sounds good. What do you want me to say?”

“Tell her, ‘Meet me at the last place at ten A.M. tomorrow’,” I say, smiling. I grab a water bottle from my dresser--I hadn’t noticed before now that there were any there--and slip it into the side pocket of the backpack. “She’ll know what it means.”

“Intentionally vague,” Teg’Neír notes appreciatively. “It’s done.”

“Thank you,” I say, hefting the window open. The two-story drop fails to deter me, and I push the window shut as I leap out, falling to the ground below. I land with a dull thump in the grass that separates Ryan’s house from the one next to it. “Now,” I say, walking out to the sidewalk and examining the less-than-busy street, “where is the nearest elevator?” I pointedly ignore the ones descending toward the capital--there’s two of them.

“About a mile to your left,” Teg’Neír replies, “straight-line, at a street corner. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“I bet I will,” I say, smiling in amusement. Then, as I saw several do a few days earlier, I leap up as high as I can. The jump carries me over the right-moving traffic and into the one going left. I almost overshoot it, though, and I have to avoid stumbling onto the lawn of the house across the street. There’s very little traffic, given the time, and it’s not hard for me to weave through the walkers as I start an easy jog toward the elevator.

“Because of the time warp,” Teg’Neír says, “we should be at the elevator right about...now.” Right as he says ‘now’, the elevator appears to my right.

I almost trip as I try to subtly but suddenly slip out of the flow of people, hesitantly stepping into the elevator and pressing the button labelled ‘Rise’. “That did not seem like a mile,” I say as the doors slide closed.

“Remember how I said that the spell alters your sense of time?” Teg’Neír asks. I nod. “It also alters your sense of distance.”

“Wait,” I say, frowning. “How did you know I nodded?”

“I didn’t,” he replies, apparently surprised. “The question was rhetorical.”

“O-oh,” I stammer. “I obviously wasn’t aware,” I add, cracking my neck as I recover my composure.

“Obviously,” Teg’Neír says, amused.

The elevator begins to rise, apparently sensing somehow that no one else would call it for a while, and rockets upward. I sit on the glass bench on the right side, slinging my bag to the ground in front of me. “How long does this one take?” I ask.

“Ten minutes,” Teg’Neír replies.

I lean back against the wall. “So.” I hesitate, unsure of how to continue. Finally, I ask, “Can the Council listen to us anywhere you go?”

“Unfortunately,” Teg’Neír replies. Then he mutters something under his breath. A short moment later, he grunts. “I mean, yes, they can.”

“Teg’Neír? What was that?” I ask, frowning. He remains silent, and my confusion begins to transform into anxiety. “You can tell me.”

He exhales sharply, as if annoyed. “I cannot,” he says slowly, as if talking to a child, “not without immense pain to myself.”

I frown, confused. Then I realize what he’s trying to infer and stifle the automatic gasp. They torture him! I think, horrified. “That’s a low blow,” I say quietly, voice shaking with anger. “Especially for…” I swear quietly.

There’s a moment of tense silence. Then Teg’Neír screams hoarsely, voice cracking. “Curse you, Shel’Fene,” he whispers in a rough voice.

“Bastards,” I growl. Then I raise my voice, shouting at the Council. “Bastards, the lot of you! You’re filthy cowards, hiding behind torture devices and false threats, frightened of Teg’Neír revealing your dark secrets to the world! If you had come clean when you did it, you may have had a lighter punishment, but when I get my paws on you--”

“Lestri, don’t--!” Teg’Neír chokes his words off with a gag. Then a much deeper, much more regal voice speaks from the watch. “You trifle in things that are not yours to trifle with, boy,” it says.

“Perhaps,” I reply, my shout lowering instantly to a deadly calm voice. “But murdering innocents isn’t something I can simply let slide.”

“I did not murder--”

“Oh, it was easy to figure out, once Teg’Neír told me he woke up alone after you put him in here first,” I continue, interrupting him as if he hadn’t spoken. “Why has he not heard of others like him? Why was the device that trapped him destroyed? Why was he forced to go alone when he volunteered to go first? It’s simple--whoever did it wanted control of the one more powerful than they, so they trapped him in a smartwatch and killed his family, even though they were loyal Servians. And since his captors had to be Servian too, well...there’s only one group with members dating to before the War of Ages.”

“Why, you…” the voice growls, then cuts off. Not a second later, my phone dings with a message: --get on their nerves!

“T--” I halt, pausing, then rip off the smartwatch and step on it, hopefully muffling my words. “Teg’Neír?”

Yes? The reply is nearly instantaneous.

“You can send messages to my phone?” I ask.

Am I not speaking out loud?

“No,” I answer quietly. “They turned you into a mute.”

I’m just glad they didn’t wipe me off the face of the damn planet, he sends eventually. They could have, what with the way you treated them.

“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry.” Then I pause and step harder on the ComDev to muffle it further. “Hey,” I say slowly. “Do you think you could transfer your data from the ComDev to my phone?”

I probably could, he says. Why?

“Because,” I say, then hesitate. “That could be our way around the Council spying on you. If they only track the ComDev…”

They already think I’m gone, he says, or close enough. They assume I’m restricted from talking to you; they’re unaware that I’ve figured out how to talk in ways other than vocally.

“But,” I press, “if you could slip onto my phone, I can put you on a higher volume, or just use a bluetooth earpiece to talk with you. And since we wouldn’t need the ComDev, I could leave it behind somewhere so the Council couldn’t spy on us. And, in a pinch, lead them astray in case I need to get away from them.”

You’re right, of course, he says. However, that would involve patching any and all traces of me off of here.

“Couldn’t you transfer all of your data to the phone?” I ask, confused.

That’s what I plan on doing, Teg’Neír replies. However, my absence would leave an obvious gap in the coding of the ComDev, so I’m going to have to come up with some false code to fill the space I leave.

“Alright. Let me know when you’re done.” I close my eyes, heart racing in anticipation. My vision darkens behind my eyelids as the elevator ascends into the roof of the cave, rising through the rock ceiling toward the world of humans. I’m worried about Teg’Neír, of course, no matter that he’s way more experienced than I am.

“Done!” a tiny voice squeaks from my phone. It coughs, then assumes the voice of Teg’Neír. “Done.”

I chuckle and rummage through the backpack, withdrawing my paw a moment later with the aforementioned bluetooth earpiece. “If I connect this to the phone, can you see if the Council put anything on it?” I ask.

“You have to connect it for me to check it,” Teg’Neír says dryly. I chuckle and connect it. “Nothing,” he says, nearly instantly. “There’s nothing on it.”

I smile and fit the device into my ear. “Perfect.” I pause as the elevator begins to slow. “You’ll have to respond to a different name than APDAT or Teg’Neír until I can find a place to stash the ComDev.”

“What about Tenir?” he asks.

“That’ll work,” I say, then say the name once to memorize it.

The elevator doors ding open, and I step off of the ComDev as I swing my bag onto my shoulder, stuffing the device into my pocket as I step out into the familiar-looking hallway. As I walk down it, I Shift into my human form, cracking my neck as the last change--my tail withdrawing into my back--takes place. I can hear, even in this form, shouts from the end of the hall as someone Phases. “Nick said all elevators lead to Pop’s and Ma’s, right?” I ask Teg’Neír.

“I believe so,” he replies. “Though I am aware of a couple of secret passageways that lead elsewhere.”

I jog to the hidden door, half-smiling, and slip into the room on the other side just as the person finishes Phasing. The mentor, a humanoid with slanted eyes and deep blue skin and arms that hang to its knees, nods at me. “Good evening.”

“Evening,” I reply. “Need help?”

“If you don’t mind sticking around for a few moments,” she says, scratching her head. “This one is a runner.”

“Certainly,” I reply, dropping my bag as I Shift back to Servian once again. My shirt rips to shreds as I do, and I frown down at my bare chest. I’m going to have to fix that when I Shift human.

The mentor’s eyes open wide, and she bows quickly to me. Then her mentee stirs, and she turns to the bed. “Where am I?” the newcomer asks groggily.

I glance around the room. The only furnishings in it are the bed and a water jug. I step over to the water jug, filling up a cup and taking it over to the mentee. He himself appears to be some sort of canine, similar to Nick more than me. I help him drink, making sure he doesn’t hit his chin. “Try to keep your eyes open as much as you can without pain,” I advise. “It makes it easier for them to adjust.” He’s definitely a fox, or something similar. His ears are huge and stiffly upright, white with stripes of blue on the outside. Tufts of blue fur adorn the tips, and the insides are clearly blue. His primary fur colour is white, but at the point where his muzzle meets his neck, there’s a point of blue that spreads down his neck, then spreads to cover his chest and stomach. I notice the same blue stripes on his tail, with the same tuft of blue fur on the tip as was on his ears. His eyes glow blue, and as he talks, I can see flashes of luminous blue from his mouth. Bioluminescence?

The mentor nods at me. “What’s your name, sir?” she asks.

“Lestri,” I reply. “And please, don’t call me sir.”

“Of course,” she says, flashing me a smile. It seems somewhat...relieved.

“Lestri…” The newcomer mumbles incoherently for a minute, talking to himself, then says, “Hey, you’re the one who died skydiving!”

“That’s me,” I reply. “Someone down here wanted the humans really convinced I was dead.”

“I’m Echo,” the newcomer says. “But...the time that they faked your death. That was three or four days ago. Nowhere near the full moon.”

I smile. “Well, near it. I’m the only known case of someone Phasing between full moons.”

“I’ll bet that caused quite a stir,” Echo says.

“It did.” I chuckle at the memory. “I forced one of the Customs enforcers--at least, I think that’s what he was--to get out of bed and cuss at the Customs officer.”

Echo laughs, and I smile at his joy. “What’s the hardest part about getting acclimated?”

“For me?” I frown. “Getting used to the respect.”

“You’re royalty?” he asks, finally opening his eyes fully.

I smile. “I am. Apparently, I’m the Heir of Mekin, a lost house that was second-most powerful before the Fall.” I fold my ears respectfully to the newcomer. “And from the looks of it, you’re royalty, too. House Ekine, if I’m not mistaken; related to one of my friends, maybe.” I glance at his mentor.

She nods. “You are indeed. I was not sure, but your bloodline holds true,” she says to Echo.

He sighs and closes his eyes again. “I have a lot to get used to,” he says.

“I know it feels that way,” I say, “but you’ll get used to it a lot quicker than you think.” I realize that I’m echoing Nick almost exactly and rest a paw on his leg. “Hey, I have to go--I have a friend I have to meet--but if you need anything, don’t be afraid to come find me. I’m not as high-and-mighty as most people would have you believe. Just ask for Ryan’s house; I’ll be there most of the time.”

Echo smiles and touches my arm. “I’ll do that; I have a feeling we’d be friends.”

I nod, smiling as well. “Just don’t run.” I nod at his mentor. “She’s here to teach you everything you need to know, including magic. It’ll seem hard at first, but keep at it. You’ll get it.” He nods confidently, seeming to have made up his mind. I step over and rest a paw on his mentor’s shoulder. “Do good by him, alright?” I say under my breath. “He’s a good kid.”

She nods. “I will.”

“Good.” I smile at them both, then Shift again to my human form and run up the steps two at a time. The storefront isn’t so crowded as it was when I Phased, as it is later, and I make it onto the street without raising any eyebrows.

“Alexis responded,” Teg’Neír says suddenly.

I barely quell the urge to startle and pick a random direction. “What did she say?”

“‘It would be easier to do it tonight’,” he reads. “‘I have classes at ten.’”

“Tell her that I doubt she has classes,” I request. I pause. “And that I can’t make it tonight, for reasons I’m sure she knows.”

“It is done,” he says after a moment.

“Thank you.” I don’t know why I thank him; he’s practically lived the past five or six centuries to serve others. It just doesn’t feel right to treat him as a servant or an A.I., even if I’m still not certain if he’s just a program or not.

“Do you want to know the language I once spoke?” Teg’Neír asks suddenly.

It takes me a moment to find words as I continue walking. “Why?” I finally ask. “What is it? What would be the point?”

“It’s the same tongue used for Languitic magic,” he explains, amusement colouring his tone at my onslaught, “though most don’t know it well enough to speak it fluently anymore. However, it’s a useful tool, as most Servians can instinctively understand someone who speaks in it...and it’s impossible to lie while speaking in it.”

I halt, surprise waking me up a bit. “Impossible to lie?” I ask, dismayed, glancing at the vaguely familiar scenery. I try to place a finger on the memory as I continue speaking. “That in itself is impossible! Everybody lies; it’s in our nature. Simply changing the language we speak in won’t make that any different.”

“Perhaps it is our nature,” he replies, “but the language does prevent it. It is, possibly, the result of the magic that imbues the language. I can teach it to you, if you want, and you can test it for yourself.”

The memory comes to me at that moment--I’m instinctively walking the route that Ryan drove me along not a week ago, the day I Phased. Therefore… I angle to the right, cutting through someone’s front lawn before continuing on parallel to a slightly larger road; if memory serves, Ryan kept us on the right side of the highway the entire drive, which means I should be heading straight toward that highway. “If it is the language used for Languitic magic, would I be able to use magic through it?” I ask. “If I knew the language?”

“Yes,” Teg’Neír replies. “Good guess. If you imbued the words you spoke with your magic and intention, that would turn the words into Languitic magic.”

I nod, straining my ears. “Teach me,” I say as my ears catch, just barely, the sound of cars roaring distantly along the freeway.

“Well, that was abrupt,” he says, amused. I’m only now beginning to realize how much I infer simply from his tone. “Let’s start with something simple: elfringr. Fire.” He pauses, then asks, “What all can you do with fire?”

“Well...manipulate it,” I say after a moment. “Start it, move it, spread it, put it out, even use it as energy.”

Teg’Neír makes a sound of agreement. “Someone very experienced with Languitic magic could simply intone ‘elfringr’ and create something seemingly unrelated, like a ruby. The magician, however, would have seen the connection between ‘fire’ and the ruby, and that’s how he could have done that.” He pauses. “See, elfringr is not just a word for fire, it is the pure essence of fire. Someone less experienced can use the word for more general things; for example, to create a fireball, or a fire, or to attack with fire and send a bolt of flame roaring toward your enemy. To do something more intricate with it would involve more words, until you get more experienced with the magic.”

“I see,” I say, slowly, frowning as I digest that. I can see headlights on the horizon, flashing horizontally to the road I’m walking along. “Could someone use the word for ‘water’ and create a sapphire, then? Or mud?”

“You’re getting it,” Teg’Neír says approvingly. “Yes, they could. However, there are limitations to magic, Languitic magic especially.”

“I know,” I say, slowing so I can focus more on his lesson.

“Do you?” he questions. “Hold the spell for too long and you could kill yourself. Put too much energy into one or two spells and you could kill yourself. Use too many low-energy spells and you could kill yourself. The penalty for one ill mistake with magic is death.”

I blink slowly, nodding. “I know, Tenir,” I say quietly, nearly slipping up and using his real name. “I’ve been told.”

“Good.” He sounds satisfied. “What’s next?...hm. Air. Air is elfknaught…”

Teg’Neír spends the next several hours training and drilling me in the lost language of the Servians--the Lost Language, he calls it, ironically--which he claims was originally the native language of the Servians. With the speed at which I grasp its concepts, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’m still skeptical--if it is such, why do most Servians not speak it?

When, hours later, I voice the question aloud to Teg’Neír, he takes a while to respond. “It is difficult to understand,” he says eventually. I’ve been walking alongside the highway for a while now, maybe forty minutes, so I sit in the grass beside it as he continues: “Why do current leaders always love their followers, yet fear them so at the same time?” He sighs. “I fear we may never know the answer to that question. However, to answer your question, it was the Council. They feared the very populace they ruled--and still rule--and in that fear, they wiped the language from history, and never taught it to their underlings. As such, none have been as proficient in Languitic magic as even the weakest before the Fall, not even those who claim to have mastered it.”

I frown, grunting quietly as I stand and continue walking. “That seems counterintuitive,” I say after a moment, glancing briefly up at the stars twinkling above me. Do the constellations have their roots in human interpretations of Servians? “By removing the language, they introduced lying into their own ranks.”

“They did not introduce it,” Teg’Neír says sorrowfully. “They encouraged it. We could speak the human’s language. But by taking away our own, they forced us to speak...the language of lies, as it was called back then. For ones who were once unable to lie, they themselves are quite good at it.” I walk in silence, unable to comprehend the idea, unable to come up with words to reply to what he said. That a leader would commit such heinous acts to stay in power… The idea angers me, the raging emotion engulfing my anger and dismay, using them as fuel for its fire. “This is why I tried to prevent you from angering them earlier--they will do anything to keep their throne. Now that they’ve had a taste of power, they don’t want to lose it.”

“And you expect to tell me this and have me not react?” I exclaim, too late remembering my ComDev and lowering my voice below the volume of the traffic. “Tenir, this isn’t simply unjust, it’s tyrannical. I can’t, in good conscience, sit here and do nothing!”

“Lestri, I implore you,” Teg’Neír says. His formality surprises me, drawing my full attention. “Do not invoke the wrath of the Council. I ask as your friend, and if not that, then plead as your servant.”

“Tenir--” I start, then stop and shake my head. No false names for this. Quieter, I begin again: “Teg’Neír. You are not my servant, and may I be damned if I ever even think of you as such. A request as a friend is enough; I shall not directly take up arms against the Council. I can’t say that my actions won’t anger them, but I promise to not directly confront them.”

“That is enough,” he says with a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

I nod. “And I mean it when I say you’re my friend, Tenir.”

“I know,” he replies. He starts to say something, then seems to think better of it and starts over: “And I’m beginning to consider you as my own true friend, the first I’ve had in many, many years.”

I smile and walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching as signs of dawn begin to signal the arrival of a new day: more cars populate the freeways, stars wink out of existence, the eastern horizon slowly turns from black to a dark purple. New day. Could be someone’s nickname, or the title of some sort of work of art, I think with a bit of awe. “How far do you think we are from--” I stop, then quickly whip out my phone and open a note, finishing the sentence by typing the rest of the question: Shelby’s Coffeehouse?

“Smart move,” he says in my ear as I slide my phone back into my back pocket. “Looks like we’re about two hours away, by car.”

“Might have to hitchhike,” I say distastefully. I don’t much care for riding in a random car with a complete stranger, but it looks like I’m going to have to this time.

“Oh dear,” he says, his agreement with my distaste evident.

I glance down, surprised to find shoes and socks on my feet and a shirt on my torso. “Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.”

“What?”

“I have shoes and a shirt on.”

“Oh.” Teg’Neír sounds as surprised as I do. “It’s rare that a Servian can Shift into a fully clothed human morph.”

“I guess I’m one of the few, then,” I say, tone reflecting my surprise. Then I change tacts, back to my first line of thought. “I’m only going to start sticking my thumb up after the sun’s up, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hitchhikers during the day are less suspicious than hitchhikers through the night,” I reply, shrugging.

Teg’Neír grunts in agreement. “For the time being, then, do you want to continue learning our language?”

“Why not?” I say, smiling. So eager...he reminds me of--I cut that train of thought off. It’s too sad for right now; it’s too soon. It won’t help me anyway.

Teg’Neír picks up where he left off, drilling me just as hard as before, despite my obvious exhaustion. For once, though, I don’t mind being pushed so hard: Teg’Neír is a good teacher, and compassionate, instead of Ryan’s harsh, driven nature. He’s willing to give me as long as it takes to understand a concept, instead of simply commanding me to do something and trying to get me to do it as quickly as possible.

The sky continues to grow lighter, the highway more and more trafficked. It never gets to the point where it’s stop-and-go, though, which confuses me. I wonder at it for a moment, but my mind is too preoccupied with learning the Lost Language to focus on it for very long. He is tough, but in a kind, caring sort of way. By the time the sun crests the horizon, I have a good grasp of what he’s taught me--which he claims is ‘fair progress, considering I’ve never spoken the language before’.

I eventually stick out my thumb in the international hitchhiker’s sign. It takes a while, but eventually, a car pulls over, and I jog to catch up to it. They roll down the passenger-side window as I lean over and peer inside. “Where ya goin’, man?” The man inside is young, probably in his mid-twenties, with reddish-blonde hair and a clean-shaven, sculpted face. His green eyes gaze kindly up at me, but they have a hard edge to them, possibly the result of a harsh past.

“Hey,” I greet. “I’m headed to Shelby’s Coffeehouse, in downtown New Orleans.” I’m fairly confident that the morning traffic--well, what there is of it--covers the sound of my voice enough that the ComDev won’t be able to pick up on what I’m saying.

“Today’s your lucky day, then,” the young man replies. “I stop by there every morning for a coffee before work!”

I smile as he unlocks the door. “So it is,” I reply, climbing into the passenger seat. “And where do you work?”

“The tech centre.”

“Oh,” I say. “That’s quite a commute.”

“I know,” he says, chuckling. “Unfortunately, the job offer was far too good to turn down.”

“Worth it,” I say, “but only if you enjoy it.”

“I do,” he replies, giving me a smile as he pulls back into the flow of traffic. “Well enough to make this commute to and from.”

There’s a subtle irony to that, but I hide my smile. We chat idly for the hour and a half it takes to get to Shelby’s Coffeehouse, talking, listening to the radio, and laughing at jokes. I find myself liking him more and more every minute, which surprises me. I don’t generally trust strangers who I don’t even have the name of; it makes me wonder if I’m starting to give out my trust more easily.

“Let me get you something,” he says, as he pulls into the parking lot. We climb out of the car at the same time.

“No, no, I--”

“No, I insist,” he says. “Think of it as thanks.”

“For what?” I ask, chuckling a bit.

“For being such good company.” He smiles and slips into the shop, waving me in. After a moment, I shrug and follow him in. He’s already speaking with the lady at the register. “...a cappuccino,” he says. “And for my friend here…?” He turns to me, smirking slightly.

I flush slightly. “A latte, please.” She smiles and nods, putting it in.

“Basic,” he mutters in my ear, but I see the amusement in his eyes when I glance at him. I return the amused glance as we wait for our drinks, and he elbows me playfully. They come out quickly, and he raises his styrofoam cup to me in a mock toast. “Well, thanks for the cheerful company. You brightened my morning.”

“Ho, friend,” I say, as he begins to leave. “What’s your name?”

He turns halfway back, still smirking. “I--Callisto’s my name,” he says. “Yours?”

“Lestri,” I say slowly, frowning at him.

His slight hesitation makes my heart skip a beat, and the smile disappears from his face. Is he…? The smile returns just an instant later, though, and I’m left to wonder if it ever left as he says, “Well, nice to meet you, Lestri.”

I nod in response, seconding the sentiment, and he turns and walks out. I slide slowly into a vacant chair at an empty table, staring at the wall. Fool! I curse myself, but even so, the question remains. That could’ve been my brother. But he didn’t even look like Mark! the logical part of my brain protests. Yet, people can change a lot in three years…

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even notice Alexis sit in the chair directly across from me. “Lestri?”

I blink and shake my head, starting as I’m drawn out of my thoughts. “Hm? Oh, Alexis. Hey. Sorry.”

“Are you alright?” she asks, peering at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I actually might’ve,” I say honestly. “A ghost from many years ago… Anyway. Why don’t you look the same?”

“Why would I?”

“Don’t you watch the news?” I ask, surprised. She shakes her head, and I lean in, lowering my voice to nearly a whisper. “According to the rest of the world, I’m dead.”

“What!” Too late, she lowers her voice. “What do you mean?”

“About four days ago, I apparently was in a skydiving accident where my ‘chute didn’t open,” I say, even quieter. “And I expect you know why I faked my death.”

“Possibly,” Alexis says, dodging the veiled probe. “How did you know I didn’t have classes?”

“Same way you know why I faked my death,” I reply, then raise an eyebrow. “How old are you, Alexis?”

“Nineteen.”

“Give me an honest answer.”

“I did.”

I sigh. “Okay, then,” I say, “different approach. What do you know about my race?”

“You mean your ethnicity?” she asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “My race, as in, species.”

“You’re not human?”

I sigh, then start, eyes flying open. Then I smirk at her and lean in close, lowering my voice again. “Alexis, where’s your accent?”

She starts, opening her mouth to speak, then blinks, surprised. “Perceptive, aren’t ya?” she asks, slipping back into her Southern accent as she smiles at me. “Thanks. That could’ve gotten me caught. I know quite a bit about yer race, to answer yer question, but now a question for ya: how’d ya figure me out?”

“When you asked about Rax,” I reply. “I asked around school later that day; no one had even heard of him.”

“You could be a detective, ya know,” she says, chuckling and taking a sip from her drink.

“You’re not the first one to say that,” I admit, smiling.

“So who was your ‘friend’, then?” Alexis asks. “Who are they?”

“Well, that day, Ryan alone,” I say. “Now, him, Nick, and Max.”

Alexis makes a face. “I don’t particularly like Ryan. I don’t know Max and Nick well enough to judge.”

“Yeah,” I say. “He’s not the best with people.”

“Worse than that.”

“You knew him?”

“He was my mentee.”

I sit back, eyebrows raised, catching myself before I gape at her. “Well.” I chuckle at my own surprise. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Ryan didn’t even mention you; he likes to keep his own secrets.”

“So he does,” she says. “Where are you at with magic?”

“Not so loud!” I hiss under my breath.

“Why not?” she asks, though she does obligingly lower her voice.

“The Council,” I mutter under my breath. “I pose a dangerous threat to them, due to...resources I have at my fingertips, and they’re prepared to do nearly anything to keep themselves from being unseated.”

“How would they know this, though?” Alexis asks.

I fish the ComDev out of my pocket and show it to her. “These things.”

“The ComDevs?” she says, forgetting to stay quiet as she thumps back in her chair, wide-eyed.

“This one in particular,” I reply. “They have a way on this particular one of listening and tracking me through it; I would almost guarantee that they did something to ensure this particular one got to me. They’ve been listening in on--Ow!” I hiss after the exclamation, dropping the ComDev as smoke trails from it. “Bastards!”

“What happened?” Alexis asks quickly.

“They--they shocked me!” I say, grimacing and rubbing my hand gingerly.

“Let me see it,” she says, holding out a hand. I place my arm gently in it, and she lays her other hand over my wrist. She mutters something under her breath, and a sudden burning itch crawls across the small burn mark from the shock. I close my eyes, but the sensation fades quickly, and I open my eyes to see the skin whole and unblemished, as if nothing ever happened. She allows me to pull my arm back. “I healed it,” she says. “Magic comes in real handy sometimes.”

“Thanks,” I say.

She nods, then frowns at the ComDev. “Couldn’t we just break it?”

I briefly consider telling her the real reason why I can’t--because then the Council would learn of Teg’Neír’s absence--but Teg’Neír ends that train of thought by hissing, “Don’t!”

“Because it’s my only source of reliable information when I’m away from Ryan and the others,” I say instead, hoping the Council didn’t pick up on my brief pause.

Alexis eyes me, then nods. “Very well,” she says, but I can tell she heard the brief hesitation. “But why is the Council so scared of you? What makes you such a threat to them?”

“Being born,” I say bitterly.

“And that means?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“My heritage,” I say eventually.

“Powerful House?” she responds, nodding a bit. “Dead or no?”

“Apparently it was,” I say, then close my eyes. Then I tap the magic inside me--it’s still hard, even after the intense training of the past few days. “This, specifically, is why,” I say, then whisper forcefully, “Mastigyn!”

I snap my eyes open, and Alexis gasps. “The Mastigyn,” she whispers, quickly nodding her head to me. It’s the best she can do while we’re in the human world; anything more and the humans would suspect something is wrong. “You’re House Mekin! That’s why!”

“I am, and it is,” I say, voice a shade deeper than normal. I release the Mastigyn and blink as my vision returns to normal. “Not just Mekin, either; there’s a second House, one that I don’t know of. One that nobody really knows of.”

“The Lost House,” Alexis whispers.

“The--you know of it?” I ask excitedly.

She smiles. “Know of it,” she says. “Don’t get too excited. I really know very little. It’s rumoured that they were the most powerful House, and that they fought valiantly, but were destroyed in the end. During the War of Ages.” She leans closer, conspiratory smile on her face. “Some conspiracies claim the Council brought about their downfall.”

“What was their name?” I ask, leaning toward her.

“The million-dollar question,” Alexis says, leaning back a bit, forcing me to lean further forward to hear her. “The Council obliterated all records of them: names, magic, rulers, all of it. That’s why they’re called the Lost House.”

I sigh, sitting back. “The odd thing is, no one can find any Servian blood in my lineage.”

“Really?”

“None,” I say, nodding.

“That’s surprising,” Alexis says simply.

I had been hoping for more of a reaction. “I think I know this one,” Teg’Neír says suddenly after a moment, surprising me.

“What?” I exclaim, sitting bolt-upright.

Alexis starts, gaze flicking to me from where it had wandered. “Lestri, what is it?” she asks quickly.

“When did you Phase?” I ask her.

“Four hundred,” she replies quietly.

I shake my head, frowning. “It has to be longer,” I say. “You wouldn’t know her otherwise,” I add to Teg’Neír.

“Lestri, who are you talking to?” she asks. “Who wouldn’t know me otherwise?”

“Just...just talking to myself. Sorry. Bad habit,” I say, while shaking my head and pointing at the ComDev. Hopefully they don’t have some sort of hidden camera in it.

She gets the message. I think. I hope. “Ah, sorry. I tend to jump to conclusions,” she says.

I smile gratefully and tuck the device quickly back into my pocket. “So what’s your House? Something prestigious?”

“No, no, not really,” she says. “House Drakat. We are a Royal House, but not as far up on the ladder as you.”

I nod to her anyway. “Where are you off to later? Anywhere special?”

“Not particularly,” she replies, smiling. “I’m going to head home, practice my guitar playing; I have a showcase later today.”

“Amazing, what you can pursue when you have literally all the time in the world.” I chuckle, then grin at her.

She responds with a rather unladylike laugh. “Hey, do you need a place to stay while you’re here?” she asks.

“I do, actually,” I say. “Why do you ask?”

“Well...because…” Alexis suddenly gets flustered, a flush heating her cheeks. Then she suddenly blurts, “I was going to offer my bed to you.”

Some things, you just never get better at, I think with a smile. “I will accept your offer, should that still be how you feel when we get there,” I say smoothly.

“Of course it will be,” she says. The flush still blazes bright on her cheeks, but she recovers her composure well enough to take a sip and smile at me. “So long as you don’t happen to change your mind.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” I say, smiling wider. “After all, I don’t have many other places I can stay, and certainly nowhere with someone near as welcoming as you.” So now you’re flirting, eh? I think, stifling a chuckle.

Alexis blushes deeper. “Flirt.”

“Can’t help my nature.”

She rolls her eyes and stands. “Let’s go,” she says.

I join her, following her out of the coffeehouse. “Walking?” I ask.

“I live nearby,” she replies, smiling over her shoulder. She really is beautiful.

I shake the thought out of my head as I hurry to catch up with her. I notice the sun nearing its zenith. “How long did we spend in there?”

“About two hours,” Alexis replies. It’s blatantly obvious that her casual attitude is more than a little forced.

“Around twelve-thirty, then,” I decide. I take a deep breath of the clean, crisp afternoon air. “Beautiful day.”

“Yeah.”

I feel my own embarrassment creeping in my head as the silence draws out long and awkward. She’s not the only one who’s forcing the casual attitude. I get the sense I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool, even if I tried to. “I keep trying to come up with things to say, but…” I trail off awkwardly.

“You can’t find anything?” she finishes.

“Yeah.”

The silence intrudes again for a moment. Then Alexis says, “Awkward.” For some reason, we both start laughing at that.

“I don’t know why I feel so awkward,” I complain a moment later, once the laughter has faded.

“I’m used to it at this point,” Alexis says. “Once you’ve lived a couple of centuries, you’ve pretty much been through everything you can be through.”

I smile, a chuckle escaping my lips. Then I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. That unmistakable someone’s-watching-me feeling. “Mastigyn!” I whisper, tapping my magic. Then I sweep my gaze slowly around, subtly glancing behind me, pretending to be curious about my surroundings. Sure enough, three people are following us, though I can tell that two of them are cloaked by some sort of illusion or hiding spell. “Don’t look,” I hiss under my breath at Alexis, returning my gaze forward, “but there are at least two invisible Servians following us.” If I’m not wrong, the one who wasn’t cloaked looked like Callisto, my driver from earlier. I slow my pace, forcing Alexis to slow as well so she doesn’t pull too far ahead, and allow Callisto to catch up with us. “Callisto?” I hiss at him.

“Lestri!” he whispers back. “I came to warn you: two Servians intend to harm you later today.”

“Yeah, that warning came a bit late,” I whisper back. “Good thing I have the Mastigyn. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known to shove you two into this alley now!” I shout the last word as I shove them into the alley I was talking about, just on our right. Callisto brushes me with a paw as he flails, but I throw my shoulder sideways, and he falls into the alley. Then I throw myself against the wall of one of the buildings, barely avoiding two magical attacks that blaze by my left shoulder. I grunt as I hit the wall; it wasn’t the most graceful of dodges, but it did its job. Then I spin, facing my assailants as they release the cloaking spell.

“Well done,” one says calmly. His voice is somewhat enhanced so it can stretch the distance, probably by magic. “You saw right through our cloaking spells. How?”

“That’s my little secret,” I call, smirking. I glance around; Alexis had begun taking us down a back road, with few houses or people scattering the street. A perfect place for a magical battle.

“Then perhaps you’ll talk after we singe some of the hair off your body!” the second one, a female, cries at me. They each lift their right hand, as if linked by ropes, and a blazing ball of fire appears in each palm. Then they whip their arms down, casting the roaring fireballs at me.

Martial magic? Calmly, as if to myself, I command, “Sharne.” Shield in the Lost Language. The fireballs splash against an invisible wall in front of me, the Shield spell that I just erected. “Kretin.” Contain. The magic from their attacks coalesces into a tight ball as my shield encapsulates it. To my surprise, the second spell takes considerably less energy; maybe it’s because I’m just manipulating the magical energy I put into the shield. “Koahrer.” Counter. This one takes more energy. At the command, their own magic leaps back at them, redoubled in its speed. In their surprise, they fail to counter it in time.

I watch as the flames engulf them, writhing and churning around their bodies. Yet, when the fire disappears, not a single hair on their bodies is singed. However, their arms and legs are bound, and they’re gagged with leather ropes. What the hell…? I shake my head after a moment and withdraw the ComDev from my pocket, holding it up to my mouth. “You’re going to have to try far harder than that to get me,” I say under my breath to it. Then I stuff it angrily back into my back pocket, turning toward the alleyway as Callisto and Alexis make their way out.

“What was that?” Callisto exclaims.

“How the Council is tracking me,” I reply.

“No, the magic,” he says. “What was that magic?”

“Oh. It was a Languitic counterspell,” I say simply. Then I add, “Of sorts.”

“Not even that,” Teg’Neír whispers in my ear. “I didn’t even teach you spells; you had to make that one up on the spot. You somehow instinctively knew exactly how to cast it.” The quiet praise makes me smile.

“And when did you Phase?” Callisto asks. I let go of the Mastigyn as he slowly brings Alexis out of the alleyway. She’s limping slightly; it looks like she scraped up her knee pretty badly when I tossed her in.

“You’re not going to like my answer,” I say as he sets Alexis down. I kneel before her and examine her knee, then sling my backpack to the ground and open it, digging around in it for a moment.

“I would like to know, regardless,” Callisto says.

I smile triumphantly and withdraw a small first aid kit from the main compartment, beneath my clothes. To my evident pleasure, there’s some antiseptic in it, as well as several bandages and strips of cloth. I take the water bottle from the side pocket of my bag, breathing a sigh of relief that it hadn’t fallen out and gotten lost. I glance at Alexis. “This is going to sting a little bit,” I say, then pour some of the water on the scrape and taking a clean cloth to it, gently wiping it clean. She hisses between her teeth as I clean it. A quick glance at the antiseptic tells me that it needs to be applied to the bandage, not the wound. I grab the bandage--a small square of cloth about the size of my palm--and spray the antiseptic on it, then press it to the wound. Alexis hisses again, and I quickly grab a cloth strip and wrap it around her knee, holding the bandage in place. I tie off the roll over the scrape, then examine my handiwork and nod.

“Why not just heal it?” Alexis asks.

“Appearances,” I reply. “Need to make sure that, if anyone was watching, they can’t tell that one second you were limping with a big scrape on your knee, and the next, you’re walking fine and the scrape is gone.”

“Makes sense,” she replies, nodding. “One of us can heal it back at the house.”

I nod. “Now,” I say, turning my attention to Callisto, “what was your question again?”

“I was asking when you Phased,” he replies patiently. “You had said I wouldn’t like your answer, and I had said I’d like to know anyways.”

“Right.” I suck a breath in between my teeth, then say, “Five days, as of last night.”

“Five days ago wasn’t the full moon,” Callisto says.

“I know,” I say, as I help Alexis stand. She tests her bandaged leg, nodding at me to let me know she can walk on her own.

“You can’t Phase without a full moon,” he protests.

“I did.”

“Not possible.”

“Ask Ryan.”

Callisto sighs in exasperation. “You’re infuriating.”

“I try,” I say shortly. “It’s only because you don’t believe me,” I add after a moment. “You seen the guy in the skydiving accident?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, frowning.

“That’s me,” I say. “Alexis, you good?”

“Yeah.” She turns and begins to lead me down the street again, limping slightly. Once we’re a fair distance away, she asks, “Who was that?”

“The person I hitchhiked here with,” I say quietly, sneaking a glance over my shoulder. He’s frozen in place, shocked. And maybe my brother. “And possibly a ghost,” I say, loud enough that he would be able to hear it.

Alexis glances at me, but she doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Thanks for helping me out,” she eventually says quietly.

I open my mouth to downplay it, to jeer that the wound wasn’t that bad, but it strikes me before I speak that the gesture meant more to her than just healing a scrape. “Of course,” I say instead, in the same quiet tone.

We walk the rest of the way in silence--not an awkward silence, like we had before the battle, but a comfortable, companionable one. Alexis points out her house to me while we’re still a ways away. “It’s small,” she says, as if ashamed, as we pause. “I appreciate simplicity.”

“Personally,” I whisper, leaning down and speaking in her ear, as if confiding a secret, “I like simplicity as well. Splendour and grandeur can get boring if you don’t keep changing it.”

She smiles, surprised, I think--pleasantly so--and headbutts me lightly. A gesture of affection. “Come on, giant,” she says, starting to walk again and grinning at me. “Let’s get out of the sun. Too hot for me.”

I chuckle, jogging to catch up with her, then matching her pace. “I’m not sure if going inside with you would help me escape the heat,” I say, a sly smile crossing my face.

It’s gone by the time she glances at me a second later, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I shake my head, hiding a smile. “Lestri, come on!”

“Fine,” I say, as if reluctant. Then I cast her the smile I was hiding. “It means I don’t think I’ll be able to cool off around you.”

She frowns for a moment. Then what I said registers, and a deep blush spreads across her cheeks. “You--!” She swats me playfully.

I chuckle, grinning at her. “I can’t help it!” I protest, as we approach her house.

“Well, you will,” she says, unlocking the door so we can enter. “Welcome to my house.” She flushes. “I kind of forgot that I only have one bedroom when I invited you to stay with me.” It’s easy to tell she’s embarrassed about forgetting that.

I bump against her, the animalistic instincts already beginning to override the human ones. “I told you, I don’t mind simplicity.”

“It’s not that,” she says.

Then it hits me what she said. “I don’t mind couch crashing if it makes you more comfortable,” I say quickly.

“Then I wouldn’t be a very good hostess,” she says. Then it’s her turn to smile slyly. “Besides, it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable sharing a bedroom with the likes of you.”

And, in turn, I blush. “Now you’re the flirt,” I say.

“Takes me a while to get into the flow of things,” she says nonchalantly, shrugging.

I stare at her as she steps further into the dim house. Something about her… I shake my head and start laughing as I follow. “You are one special person, Alexis.”

“Oh, I know,” she replies, flashing me a smile as she sets her bag down. Then she goes back and shuts the front door. The entry hall actually isn’t a hall at all, but branches out to a small room on the left. A door up ahead on the right wall promises secrets, and just beyond it, a staircase disappears behind the wall, up to a second floor. Beyond the staircase is an open room with a large couch and a television; it’s a living room. To the left of the living room is the kitchen, separated on the near side by a wall and swinging door, and on the side facing the living room with a small connected island, with an open space about three meters wide to pass through into the kitchen.

I’m finding it difficult to keep my eyes off of Alexis, and my heart does a little jig as I tear my eyes away just before she turns to come back. What’s wrong with me? I think, as several scenarios pop into my mind, some good, some bad. I shake them fiercely out of my head. “What’s your House again?” I ask, frowning.

“Drakat,” she replies, ducking into the kitchen.

I have to speak over the ensuing clattering of pots and pans as I ask my next question. “What magics to you guys specialize in?”

“A couple,” she admits. “We’re a Royal House, like I said earlier. Somewhere in the upper-middle as far as power and ranking. Our primary magic speciality is Scariff magic--nightmares, Devil’s Illusions, things like that.”

“Devil’s illusions?” I ask.

“It’s similar to the Nightmare contained within the Mastigyn,” Alexis explains as she pulls ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets. “Making them fight or endure their greatest fears, torturing them…” She takes a deep breath, pausing in making the food. Then she shakes her head with a quick snap, continuing: “Things like that.”

“Ah,” I say. “Sounds masochistic. Or...sadistic, I guess.”

She shakes her head. “I hate using them; I avoid using those spells most of the time, unless I’m forced to use it.” She sets a crockpot out on the counter opposite the island I’m leaning over, plugging it in, then ducks over to the meat she just pulled out, slipping a bowl under hot water.

“Fair,” I say. “Anything else?”

“Well…” She glances at me as she sets the frozen meat in the warm water to defrost it, then comes over and whispers in my ear: “We can Shift into two forms.”

My eyebrows creep up in surprise. “That’s quite a talent you guys have, then,” I say. “Show me later.”

“I might,” she says uncertainly.

I smile. “We don’t have to worry about humans right now,” I say. “The sunlight will create enough glare that they won’t be able to see in.”

“Later,” she says firmly. I nod obediently, cowed. “Can you do something with the ComDev?” she breathes in my ear.

I nod and stand, stretching stiffly before fishing it out of my pocket. I glance around the room, then hurry along the hall, slipping out the front door and placing it on the front doorstep. “Are you sure you want to do that?” Teg’Neír asks suddenly, sounding worried.

I close the door before responding. “Tenir, I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t sure,” I say firmly.

“Just making sure.” Teg’Neír subsides, but he sounds proud of me, if I’m not mistaken.

“Tenir?” Alexis asks as I return to the island separating the kitchen from the living room. “I swear I recognize that name.”

“I knew I knew her!” Teg’Neír exclaims.

I just shake my head. “What were you going to tell me at first, Alexis?”

“Others like me--namely, my House and one or two others--have the ability to Shift into two forms,” Alexis says. “We’re called Duallites. However, due to various reasons, we have to keep our identity as such hidden. I’m beginning to suspect that more and more of those reasons are stemming from the Council.”

“Sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” I mutter. Alexis nods in agreement.

“You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Lestri,” Teg’Neír says. “Like a young pup: you have teeth and claws, but you don’t know how to use them. All you want to do is play with them all day like toys.”

I stand from the island and turn from Alexis as my brows pull together in frustration. “I used them well enough in that battle earlier,” I say.

“And all of the members of the Council have centuries more experience than you do,” Teg’Neír replies. I’m astounded that he manages to keep his temper.

“I have twice the natural magic power they do!”

“And, again, they’ve had many more times practice with their limitations, and centuries of training with their magic!” Teg’Neír still uses a calm, controlled tone, but I can feel the emotion behind the words: anger, and behind that, perhaps even stronger, worry and care.

“You need to stop treating me like a little kid,” I say, getting more frustrated. “I understand my opponents as well as I can without knowing them personally. I’m not a boy anymore, Tenir, I’m a young man, and I know what I’m doing.”

“Did you know that they could probably summon about half of the Servian nation to fight you?” he asks. I fall silent, clenching my fists. “A good number of Servians worship the Council. In a legitimate, recognized religion.”

“That’s disgusting,” I say.

“And what else do we have to worship?” Teg’Neír asks. “When we can live as--”

“Long as God Himself, I know.” I sigh quietly. “I don’t really know what to think anymore. I just… It’s inhumane to treat your followers as they do, whether or not they worship you.”

“Just be careful, Lestri,” he says quietly. “Promise me you’ll be careful around the Council.” I hesitate. “Please.”

“Fine. I swear I’ll be careful around them.” I take a deep breath and switch to the Lost Language. “En krekenet e cohn erl ce Council.” I swear to be safe with the Council. It’s the best I can do with my limited knowledge of the language. As the final word drops from my lips, I feel a...tugging, of sorts, in my mind. I realize a little late that I’ve just sworn, in the most binding of ways, to meddle less in the Council’s affairs.

Teg’Neír stammers for a moment, stunned. Then he finally says, forcefully, “Aré gratis.” It means thank you in the ancient language. He sounds impressed and deeply humbled by my promise when he says it.

I smile and take a deep breath, aiming my eyes at the heavens. I don’t know if you exist anymore, but thank you. It’s unnerving, speaking to a God that I don’t fully believe in.

“Excuse me,” Alexis says indignantly. “I’m still here.”

I turn to her, stifling a chuckle as I give her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. That’s the first we’ve been able to speak openly in a while.”

“We?” Alexis raises an eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Myself and Tenir,” I reply.

“Who’s Tenir?”

I hesitate. “Are you sure you know her?” I ask Teg’Neír, touching my earpiece.

“I’m sure,” he says.

I take a deep breath, glancing distrustfully at the front door, then say, “Alexis...Tenir is the name I call Teg’Neír in the human world.”

“Teg’Neír…” Alexis whispers, bowing deeply, automatically. Her eyes are wide with shock, mouth parted slightly. You’d think one would get better at hiding surprise after centuries upon centuries of practice, I think wryly, waiting for her to respond. I keep the thought to myself. “Wh-where are you?” she finally asks.

Teg’Neír seems to freeze up. Then he whispers urgently to me, “Be my mouthpiece.”

“O-okay,” I stammer, then glance at Alexis. “He asked me to be his mouthpiece, and...honestly--if it’s okay with you, Teg’Neír--I think I can tell this part myself.”

“Go right ahead,” he says, with what sounds like a sigh of relief.

I frown, collecting my thoughts. “If I remember correctly, what he said is that he and his House fought hard in the War, but when defeat became inevitable, the Council devised a machine that could...morph his House into the ComDevs, as a measure to safeguard them during the centuries to come. I’m sure the Council made some sort of promise to bring them out later. When the day came, Teg’Neír and his house went to the Council.” I pause, thinking. “I recall him saying there was space for two at a time, but that the Council advised that doing such wasn’t safe. So Teg’Neír went first. He was...I believe the word was efinieg, with the device. The next thing he remembers is being powered up a few days later.” I lick my lips. “No one, not even he, knows if any of the rest of his House still survives. He just recently transferred his data to my phone, but the technology to get him out was destroyed after the War, supposedly by the humans. I suspect the Council actually had something to do with it, and that it wasn’t humans at all.”

Alexis blinks at me, staring at me as if I was crazy. “How long have you been like this?” she asks Teg’Neír.

“Over seven centuries,” I relate.

“Why would the Council do this?” she asks, horrified.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I repeat, then pause and, speaking for myself, say, “That holds for him and me.”

Alexis glances behind herself, then hurries over to the defrosted meat and transfers it to a crockpot, setting the heat on medium and putting a few pepper and onion slices in. All this she does in silence, then steps into the living room, walking past me and sitting on the couch. “Teg’Neír...I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she says quietly.

“He says--” I stop and flush at Teg’Neír’s veiled compliment, stammering slightly before regaining my composure. “He-he says that--that I’m the smartest Servian he knows of, and he’d be ashamed if he didn’t say he’s confident in me bringing him back, more so than nearly anyone else.” I fall silent, flush burning on my cheeks, refusing to repeat what he said next.

“Say it,” Teg’Neír says.

“No.”

“Come on,” he pleads.

I sigh reluctantly, hesitating, but finally say, “He also says that you would be mistaken not to say yes when I ask.” I shake my head then, refusing to say any more.

Alexis chuckles. “Teg, you little sneak.” Then she takes a deep breath. “Well, Lestri, you have my full support. I will do whatever it takes to get Teg’Neír out of that damned device.”

“Thank you,” I say honestly, speaking for myself. “If you guys don’t mind me asking, what’s the history? How do you two know each other?” They both instantly start talking at once, and I hold up my hands, shouting over them good-naturedly. “Woah, woah, one at a time!” I cry, laughing.

Alexis smiles. “Teg’Neír?”

He chuckles. “She was born just after I was. Our Houses were extremely close--though they never crossbred--and growing up, Alexis was like my little sister. We never really grew apart…until I vanished. Honestly, Alexis, I thought you’d died in the War.”

“No,” she says after I relay the words, chuckling. “I didn’t, quite obviously.”

I frown at her, speaking for myself again. “You’ve lied about a number of things.”

“I swore an oath to the Council,” she mumbles in the Lost Language, surprising me with the language shift. “I swore to never tell the details of our past, just like most of the rest of the Survivors of the War of Ages.”

I have to trust her, because of the language, but I’m still slightly dubious as I speak. “But the loophole is if you’re speaking to someone else who knows of the Servian’s past,” I say, joining her in the ancient language.

She nods, then sighs. “I will help you bring Teg’Neír back,” she swears, still in the Lost Language. “No matter what the cost; perhaps that will be the catalyst for bringing about the Council’s downfall.”

I smile, sitting on the couch as well. “Will you show me your other form?” I say, reverting to English. “So we can do it with less risk of being discovered by humans?”

“Turn around,” she says, smiling and twirling a finger at me. I roll my eyes, but I do turn, raising an eyebrow as I hear the quiet rustle of clothing. Then, after barely a crack, another rustle. Then she says, “You can turn back.”

The Servian I see when I do hardly resembles her human form: brown fur covers her body, definitely feline in appearance, from the slim tail to the slitted eyes to the black ‘M’ shape on her forehead. Black stripes encroach on the brown, giving her a far more aggressive look than just a simple tabby cat, and likely a far more aggressive look than her true nature really is. “You look beautiful,” I say simply.

“I must demur,” she objects. “I don’t particularly like this form. Or my human one, really. They don’t seem very...I don’t know, appealing.”

I shake my head. “Come on, don’t be so self-conscious,” I say. “You look stunning in both forms.”

“Not much, if you ask me,” she says. I catch a brief glimpse of something in her eyes before she turns me around. “If you think these are stunning, then you’ll be shocked speechless by my next Morph.” I hear another rustle as she takes her shirt off again, because, of course, Shifting rips through shirts--it took my logic a minute to catch up. “Done,” she says.

I turn in surprise: her voice seemed deeper than in the other two Morphs. I gasp, eyes widening a slight bit, as I stare at her third form. A large, imposing drake, coated with shimmering scales, larger by far than her other two Morphs--more muscular and far taller--blinks down at me, shirt discarded beside it. It’s amethyst eyes peer at me, surrounded by small, glittering red scales. The reddish colour only shows around the eyes and muzzle; the rest of its scales are inky black though the colour itself seems to shimmer with its own internal light. The Morph appears very masculine, mainly for the lack of breasts on its bare chest. When I look closer at it, I can tell that the scales on its chest and stomach are lighter, more grey than black. “A-Alexis?” I stammer.

“I told you,” it says, amused. “Technically. It’s odd...this Morph almost seems to have a mind of its own. It would rather be called Vesper, and is...well, for lack of a better term, gender-ambiguous.”

“Well...ah…” I struggle for a moment. “Nice to meet you, then, Vesper.”

“Can you see why I like this form better than the other two?” she asks.

“I mean, I do have a bias toward dragons, simply because of how grand they are and all,” I say, with a sly smile, “but you look just as gorgeous in your other two forms as well.”

I can’t see the flush that is clearly heating her cheeks, but she stares down at the couch as if to hide one. “Flirt,” she mumbles.

I smile wider. “As I said earlier, I can’t help my nature.”

“Sometimes you can,” she says. “But it sometimes takes…drastic measures.” I flush at the implications of her words, noticing how she actually looked down to hide a smile of her own.

I shake my head after a moment, throwing the same scenarios from earlier out of my head. Then an idea strikes me. “Hey, Al--er, Vesper,” I say slowly. “We are, theoretically--if what I suspect is true--fighting against the Council, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, glancing up at me. “Why?”

“Sorry about the sudden change of topic,” I apologize, remembering myself. “But you know of Rax, right?”

“I do,” she says, surprise flashing in her eyes. “Again, why?”

“Well, what is he rebelling against?” I ask.

“I…” She hesitates, then frowns. “You know, I actually don’t know. Considering all of his attacks are against the Council, I would have to say them.”

“Perfect.” I smile at her confusion about the word. “Let’s say he is fighting against the Council. Now, remind me, who are we theoretically fighting against?”

“The…Council,” Vesper says, realization dawning in her eyes.

“Are you sure it’s wise to associate ourselves with Rax?” Teg’Neír asks from my phone, apparently forgetting his embarrassment for a moment.

I nod. “I am sure, Teg’Neír,” I say. “I have the power to convince him to try things my way. Besides, I’ve saved his life at least once.”

Teg’Neír makes a noise in the back of his throat. “You’ve matured already, Lestri,” he says. “I will defer to you.” I smile, flushing a bit at the compliment.

“Hey, Lestri,” Vesper says, as if suddenly thinking of something.

“Hm?” I glance at her as the words draw my attention from Teg’Neír.

“You still haven’t Shifted,” she says. “As you said, now is the best time.”

I smile. “I had forgotten that I was going to do it, actually. I wasn’t expecting you to request that. But…” I hesitate, then wiggle out of my shirt and close my eyes to avoid Vesper’s gaze. Then I again punch through that barrier in my mind, making a face as a shiver of pain races through my body, along with dozens of sharp cracks. It’s over faster than I’d expected, though, and I slip back into my shirt before opening my eyes. I flush as I notice Vesper appraising my Morph with inquisitive eyes and smile self-consciously under her gaze. “Well?”

It takes a moment, but Vesper returns her gaze to mine, smiling. “Handsome,” she says simply. I blush again as she tilts her head in confusion, anticipating her question. “Why’d you put your shirt back on?”

“It feels...I don’t know, it still feels immodest around me to be walking around without it,” I say, then shrug. “Maybe I’m just too modest.”

Vesper shrugs as well. “Or maybe I’m just used to male Servians walking around shirtless.”

“Then what does that make you?” I ask.

She smiles. “I already told you.”

I flush. “Right. Sorry.”

“For…?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.”

“Then don’t apologize,” she says, with a chuckle. There’s a pause. “Why did you stay?” she asks finally. “Servian, I mean. Why did you stick around?”

“I…” I sigh as my heart throbs painfully in my chest. “I’m still not fully committed in my heart, but I stayed because I have a duty to our race. I don’t like it, necessarily, but I’m extremely high-ranking royalty. I was born specifically to lead, bred through the centuries; according to the others, House Mekin is one of the oldest, most powerful Houses, second only to the one you called the Lost House. I was born to lead a race...or, in this case, save it. And I’ve determined to see that through, whether or not I like it.”

Vesper’s scales rustle dryly as she shifts. “You assume a heavy mantle, Lestri,” she says quietly, after a moment of silence. “Be careful it doesn’t crush you.”

I smile wearily. “It may have already,” I say. “At least I have friends to pick me back up and help me carry it from here.”

“At least there’s that.” She smiles and nods at me. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to be one of those who helps.”

“That would be...nice,” I say, smile strengthening.

“I, of course, will be here so long as you wish me to be,” Teg’Neír says.

“How many times have I told you that you’re not my servant, Teg’Neír?” I ask. “You can leave whenever you feel like it; quit acting like you are my servant. You’re not.”

He chuckles. “You would rather me contradict you at every turn?” I sigh in irritation. “No, I understand what you mean, Lestri. I will try not to act such, but I can’t promise any results.”

“All that I ask is that you’ll try,” I say, releasing a pent-up sigh. “Thank you both,” I add. I rest a paw on Vesper’s leg, blinking in surprise at how the scales feel. Each individual scale is smooth as glass on its surface, yet at the places where they meet each other, there’s a rough line, as if it’s designed to cut someone who tries to rip the scale off. My heart races in excitement at the contact, and I blush fiercely as her eyes meet mine. The strange feeling has been hovering in my body since we began talking earlier. Is...is this love? I wonder. I quickly dismiss the thought as irrational, but my tail begins to wag against my will.

“Kiss her!” Teg’Neír urges in my ear. “It’s obvious you love her; just do it!”

Is it really that obvious when even I can’t really tell? Instead of doing as he suggests, I withdraw and exhale softly. “I think the food’s ready.”

“I was wondering how long you’d be able to refrain from mentioning food,” Vesper teases, then stands with another rustle of scales.

I lean my head back as she darts into the kitchen, in a hurry now that she’s done her teasing. “Teg’Neír,” I whisper. “Don’t push me, please; I haven’t loved anyone before, at least not openly.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll restrain myself.” I hear the veiled amusement in his voice, despite his solemn promise.

With a nod, I turn my head, finding Vesper as she prepares two plates of food. “Thanks for taking me under your wing up here, Vesper,” I say.

She casts a smile over her shoulder at me. “Of course,” she says, the smile turning into a sly smirk. “After all, how could I not offer shelter to a devil like you?” I flush, and the smirk turns back into a toothy, draconic grin. “Plus, I wholeheartedly support you. You make a good case, even if I don’t understand exactly how you’ll press it...and you can’t do anything if you’re dead.”

“Fair point,” I say. After a pause, I admit, “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure how I’ll press my case either.”

She returns to the couch with the food, handing a plate and set of silverware to me. “First rule of being a leader,” she says. “Don’t ever reveal that you’re unsure unless it’s somebody you trust not to desert you.”

I chuckle and rest my head back. “What’s the news spouting now?” I ask, noticing the images flashing on the silenced television. They’re still stuck on my death. The screen returns to the main reporter, and a picture of a young man who must be on the phone pops up in the top right corner. It actually looks like…

Vesper turns the volume on. “...a young man named Callisto Fenn claims to have known the McGuyver family quite well in his youth,” the reporter is saying. “He says that Lestri’s loss of his older brother Mark cut Lestri deeply, and Lestri never really healed from the wound. He says this might’ve been the cause of Lestri’s death, suggesting that it was an intentional suicide that was made to look like a parachuting accident in case he didn’t die.”

“Yeah.” Callisto’s voice comes through, and a caption at the bottom says he’s ‘on the phone’. Listening to his voice without seeing his face, I can hear how similar he sounds to Mark. “Lestri was extremely close to Mark, so much so that a couple of kids at school suspected that they were more than ‘just brothers’. The fact that Mark was adopted fueled this idea, but it never deterred their relationship. The loss hit Lestri much harder than he was willing to admit to anyone. Before he went to treatment for A&D, he was spending more and more time in his room, hiding from the reality that Mark was gone. He and Mark even had a secret phrase to let the other know to call, and Lestri would keep saying it every time he went out into public, on the off chance that Mark was actually still alive and following him, and would hear it. I heard it once. It was...ah, what was it?...oh, don’t forget who you can trust.”

“Thank you for…” The reporter’s voice gets drowned out by the sudden ringing in my ears. I stare at the picture of Callisto, and suddenly, it lines up. I overlap it with my mental image of Mark, and everything matches perfectly. I hiss in annoyance as the picture on the television disappears, then check my pockets.

Sure enough, I find a small slip of paper in my right back pocket, where I was keeping the ComDev. When I pushed them into the alley, I realize, remembering how Callisto had seemed to flail a bit more than was warranted. On the slip is a phone number--not one with a Louisiana area code, but with a Colorado one. I whisper a curse and dig my phone out of my pocket.

“Lestri?” Vesper’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. How did she do that? I wonder briefly. No one has been able to get through to me in a rage.

“Not right now!” I snap, regardless of the thought. I punch the number into the phone, then lift it to my ear, listening to the dial tone, clenching my other paw into a fist to keep it from shaking. He picks up on the second ring. “What the hell!” I shout, before he can say a word.

“Lestri, I--”

“Shut up!” I scream, bolting to my feet. “Shut up!” My voice cracks, and I pant rapidly in the ensuing silence, tears filling my eyes. Finally, I say, “How could you?” My voice cracks again on the last word.

“Lestri, I didn’t want to,” he whispers helplessly. I can hear the tremble of his voice, hear the tears in his eyes. “I didn’t want to--”

“I trusted you!” I shout, throwing my free arm out. My tail flips up, then freezes in a tense arch, ears twitching, unsure of what to do. Finally, I slump in defeat, slouching where I stand. “I trusted you…”

“Les...I’m so sorry…” His voice shakes violently, and I can tell he’s sobbing--he never was the one to cry loudly. “If there was any other way...I would’ve taken it…”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, you wouldn’t have. You value your privacy too much, so much so that you’d abandon me!” I’m shouting again. “Do you know how much pain you caused me? I couldn’t face the world without you, so I hid alone for two years!” Now I’m screaming, ripping my vocal cords apart in anger and sadness. “You showed as little care for me as you possibly could!”

“Les…” He sounds broken, and it strikes me, somewhere in a dim, forgotten part of my mind, that I’m hurting him.

It doesn’t stop me. “You could’ve at least kept your name! Did you really want to forget us that bad? Do you know how much you hurt me!” I scream the last bit in a near-guttural roar. I pant for a moment, listening to his quiet, choked sobs. Good. For once, I don’t shove away that tiny voice in my head. Make him hurt like he made you hurt. “You should have never revealed yourself, Mark,” I say in a low voice. “You should have never come back.” Then I hang up, shoving my phone angrily back into my pocket.

“L--...Lestri?” Vesper asks. She sounds...afraid, almost. As if my rage scared her.

I finally notice the hot tears sliding down my muzzle. “I-I’m fine,” I say, in a shaky voice. I did what had to be done. I quickly swipe the tears from my cheeks, taking a long, shaky breath. “I’m fine.”