1.4 The Bird and Owl

I watched the largest woman that I had ever seen adjust her pleated skirt before taking a seat at the bar. I don’t mean large as in overweight. I mean large as in she was nearly 13 feet tall, thighs the size of muscular tree trunks, and a chest that was probably bigger than my entire body.

I was staring. I know I was. But…The way they bounced when she adjusted her seat—

“Elida!” My trainer Feora—a half fae with translucent wings in the corners of her purple eyes—hissed at me. “Stop gawking!”

I blinked. Looking at Feora always made me blink. The wings mixed with her white eyelashes. Did she not feel them? I turned my back fully to the gorgeous giant and tried to focus on the drink Feora was making.

The loud commotion from a group of men made it hard to concentrate. One of them slapped a soaking wet bag on the bar top with a sickening plop.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Feora scolded as she poured a golden drink out of the shaker and into a chilled coupe glass. She waved at the wet bag. “If it oozes or snoozes it stays off!”

I quickly wrote that down in my small notebook.

After my conversation with the girls the other day, it started to sink in that I had no real plan of finding Esti. Only a dream. And it seems to travel you’ll need money. So I found myself a part time gig at The Bird and Owl. It was a fairly lively tavern down the block from Bogarts while still remaining ‘on campus’.

‘On campus’ meaning within the magical barrier that kept Bogarts hidden from wandering mundane eyes.

Part time tavern worker, full time Bogarts student. I can handle that, right?

Somewhere in the back an oven exploded and the owner was shouting in a language I wasn’t familiar with.

Sure. I can handle this.

“Name this drink,” Feora quizzed me as she handed the golden drink to a sleepy looking woman with red curls.

“Ummm….” Viscous. Gold. Shaken…. “Sunny sparkler?”

“Lion spritz.” She shook her head. “You’re stuck on ale duty only until you can remember the cocktails.”

I nodded dutifully as she approached a new customer with a trained smile. Training with Feora, though? I might not survive that. ‘Training’ was simply watching her on the job and trying to pick up as much as I could without any explanation. We had never even made a lion spritz yet. How was I supposed to guess it at a glance?

From around the corner a billow of smoke curled to the ceiling. Alex, the resident baker and cook of the tavern, stormed out as the cloud spread into the bar with flour streaked across his face.

As we made eye contact, Feora snapped her fingers at me. “Don’t get distracted!” She shoved two empty pint glasses into my chest. “Two dark ales, stat!”

I glanced back at Alex before he ran out of the front door wondering what got him so frustrated. I turned and pulled two ales into the glasses from a silver tap as the owner, Balfen, stormed up to us.

He snatched one of the ales out of my hand. The thick foamy head spilling slightly over his hairy knuckles. Feora took another glass and filled it up beside me.

“This damn baker!” Balfen threw his hands into his black, wavy hair, spilling more of the ale down his wrist, and chugged the drink in three big gulps. He threw the glass back into my hand as Feora took the two ales and delivered them to two men with antlers at the end of the bar.

Balfen wiped his hand on his shirt. “Thinks he can bring whatever ingredients he finds and whip whatever he wants up! In my establishment?” He threw a pointed look my way. “Don’t be bringing any of your own concoctions into this place! Ya hear?” As I nodded the wind seemed to have been knocked out of him. His shoulders slumped forward and he sighed. “What a mess.”

“I can clean it up for you if he doesn’t come back.” I could see Feora shaking her head vigorously over his shoulder. The wings in the corner of her eyes lightly wafting side to side with every shake. I blinked. “If you…Would rather not deal with it, that is.”

Balfen wafted at the air as it thickened with the smoke. “Well. Get to it, newbie. Earn that keep.” He had a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Did I…Get played? I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. As I walked past Balfen and Feora towards the kitchen, I heard Feora hiss under her breath. “Always ignore Balfen.”

Ignore the owner? The guy that hired me with no bartending experience and a strange school schedule? I don’t think I had it in me. Stuck with my fate, I exited the bar and walked behind a wall and into the kitchen. It was moderately sized with a long stove top, two fryers, and a medium sized oven.

The smoke cloud was coming from the oven which was slightly ajar. I opened it fully and the rest of the smoke blew past me and after it’s maker Alex. Inside the oven was a baking sheet with eight small, white ramekins. I put on some black oven mitts—part of me worried that they might not always have been black—and pulled the sheet out. Steaming water splashed on my shoes before I could place it on the countertop. Love that.

‍ ‍ Inside the ramekins were burnt piles of something. The acidic smell could have been chocolate or tree bark. Who knew at that point. I tested one with my bare hand to see if they were hot. When I realized they had cooled, I took the entire sheet to the small sink.

As I scrubbed the contents I wondered if these might be desserts. Celaya would love to try out her desserts here.

“You didn’t need to do that,” came a voice.

I shrieked and jumped out of my skin. I quickly spun and caught myself on the edge of the sink. Alex was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Jesus.” I exhaled. “Make a sound or something first!” I clutched my beating heart and hung my head.

Alex tugged at one of his auburn curls. It sprung back into its place in front of his eyebrow. He made a fist and slapped it into his palm. The sleeve on his shirt nearly tearing around his bicep. “If I could just get the timing right! These could be incredible.”

I looked into the sink. “What…Were they supposed to be?”

Alex took a scratchy sponge and helped me clean one of the ramekins. “Soufflés. With an onyx chocolate made from the fruit of a stone tree.” He bit his bottom lip. “Just need to get the ratios right. The chocolate is finicky. But divine! A customer at the tavern made these truffles with them and the thought alone is enough to deal with Balfen’s grumblings.”

I scrunched my nose as I scooped out a large handful of the black mess and tossed it into the sink with a plop. “I’m sure…” As we fell into silence I decided to offer something. Or someone. “I have a friend…She specializes in desserts. She’d love to try new ingredients. Maybe…She could help?”

“She’s a student at Bogarts too?” Alex asked as we finished the ramekins.

“First pin, like me.” I tackled the sheet pan as he dried the ramekins.

“First pin?”

“Oh, sorry. Like a first year. Just starting out.” I frowned and handed him the sheet pan. “You don’t go to Bogarts?”

Alex laughed. “I wasn’t invited. If you’re wondering how I got on campus without an invitation, let’s just say I messed up a portal spell and am kinda…Stuck.”

“Oh…”

“Until I figure out how to tweak the spell, might as well hone my cooking skills.” He tensed beside me. “I…I’m not sure why I…I’m not a very social person.”

I dried my hands on my pants. “I don’t mind! People tend to open up to me. Always have. Must be something about my face.”

Alex grunted. “Probably best for you to work behind the bar.” He hesitated again. “Well… I guess—”

Feora’s head whipped around the corner. “Are you finished yet? Get out here and do your actual job! I have a line of elves waiting for their order to be taken! They are not a patient race despite having literally all the time in the world!”

I quickly ran out and waved goodbye to Alex. The tavern was flooded with tall, slender elves who all wore the same frown on their thin lips.

Feora placed three coupe glasses on the bar in front of me. “Twelve Dew Waters.”

“Uh…” I paused.

“I’ll walk you through it.” She spoke fast as she gathered four bottles in front of her. “Now get the other tree essence. Third bottle from the left in the well. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

I grabbed the neck of a bottle with a clear liquor hoping it was the right one. When I turned to look for her approval, she slid a metal jigger towards me.

“Two ounces. Then one ounce of the birch water which is in the middle of the well. Chubby bottle.” She poured as quickly as she spoke.

A blonde elf wrapped his knuckles on the bar top. “Service? We can wait forever, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

As we both threw in a few maple leaves and a scoop of ice into the cocktail shaker, I pressed my shoulder against Feora’s and muttered, “Aren’t they immortal? You think that would make them more patient.”

We shook our drinks in shakers at the same time. She leaned close enough that I could feel the wing on her eyelashes tangle slightly in my curls. “You would think! But it makes them more impatient. Feeling eternity stretch before you makes you want to get the menial stuff over with quickly.” She blinked her wing out of my hair and placed four stemmed shot glasses on the bar.

“Grab four others of this glass and get the blue powder from the under the counter.” As I followed she made two more batches of the drink. I really was slowing her down. “Only a pinch at the bottom of each glass.” She readied two cocktail shakers over the glasses. “Quickly now!”

As I dusted she poured the drinks, barely missing my fingertips each time. The clear liquid swirled blue and then lightened into a purple. As we finished the first eight glasses, they were swiped as quickly as they settled.

“A little more,” Feora placed the last four glasses in front of us. “Last round.” I dusted the glasses as she poured but before these could get stolen, she slapped the knuckles of two elves.

“Open tab or closing out?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. A fluffy blonde haystack of hair billowing in an unfelt wind. “Open tab.”

“Then we need some collateral.” Feora placed an open palm in front of her. The elf looked appalled at the show of bare skin.

The elf beside him—who could have been his twin sister—gently placed a silver cube in Feora’s palm. “Here.” Her voice was deep and melodic. Her ears sharper at the tip than other elves I had seen before. (Only one other. Esti.)

“Our ride home. Good enough until we settle out tab?” Her green eyes were like looking into a moss agate stone. Ripples of brown and black around the irises.

Feora smiled and pushed the last four drinks a little closer to them. “Enjoy! We will keep this safe for you.”

“Almien.” She and the other elf took the glasses to the rest of their party who had settled around a round table near the edge of the bar.

Feora grinned triumphantly at me and for a split second I thought she was going to say ‘good job’.

Until a knight threw his gauntlet on the bar behind me and demanded a hasty refill.

Feora waved me away. “Ale duty! Chop, chop!”

I held the dramatic sigh in my chest and hurried to the rosy cheeked man who was muttering to no one in particular about his drink tasting better in his home realm.

Later that night, as I walked out of the tavern trying to remember the names and ingredients of all the cocktails I had seen today, Alex barred me at the doorway with an outstretched hand clutching a spiral bound notebook.

Cautiously, I took it. Not knowing if it would explode on me or not. I looked at him and waited for an explanation.

He shrugged and avoided my gaze. “Recipe book. You’ll never make it off of Feora’s training by just watching. Last two trainees quit before their first week.”

I grinned. “You’re welcome.”

His shoulders tensed. “I didn’t—”

“See you tomorrow!” I ducked under his arm and gave a wave as I ran back to my tower at Bogarts. “I’ll let you know when my friend can come by and help you with your soufflés!”

1.3 L.u.c.a.

L.U.C.A.

Last Universal Common Ancestor. Magic. Or possibly the being that created Magic.

The brief was staring at me like it had a grudge against me. And honestly? I was starting to take it personal. My Antiquities class homework on L.U.C.A. A two page research paper on what it was and my theory on if it was Magic Itself or if Magic Itself was actually created by something else.

It was turning out to be something else to write at least. The blank page in front of me felt more insidious the longer I stared at it. Like an executioner staring at a pretty neck.

The silence in the library weighed on me. My neck bent lower and lower under the weight. Sitting on a table with my research books and crumpled intro paragraphs taking up a seat beside me, I at least looked as if I could be making progress. If you didn’t stare too long.

“I always had a feeling LUCA came from a being,” Bri mused across the table as he lathered a fresh batch of lotion on the side of his scaled cheek. Smoke tendrils curled around the top of his elongated snout. There was a bit of residue leftover on his index finger. He studied it under the desk lamp in front of him. I felt the need to interrupt the intrusive thought I could feel brewing.

“Don’t eat it. It won’t taste good.” I twirled my fountain pen between my fingers. Eyeing him.

Yarael snickered beside me. Her elbow rested on one of the unopened books on L.U.C.A. “Your head is too big to have intrusive thoughts, Bri. Don’t start now.”

“Hey!” Dark smoke flared from his mouth. Sharp canines slicing through the dark clouds. “That’s offensive!”

I shook my head. “Now, now children. If you aren’t here to do your work then you should leave the library. Besides,” I nudged Yarael with my knee. “Not everyone can be as beautiful as our Goth Queen, here.” I smiled at Bri. “Some of us are simply ordinary.”

The incredulous look left his face and his head tilted to the side. “Elida, you have no room to talk.”

Before I could get more sidetracked, Yarael brought us back to my homework. “LUCA is Magic. You can feel it in the soil, in the air,” she twirled her hand in the space between the three of us. As she rotated her hand in a circle, a small wisp of smoke curled around her fingers. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.

“The Veins of Magic is the most popular theory,” I looked at the two textbooks in front of me; L.U.C.A. Everyone’s Favorite Ancestor and Threads of Fate and Magic. The Mycelium Network. “Veins of magic can be pulled from realms, therefore they are more favored to be studied and written about. But the age old question still remains- are the veins simply there or did someone—or something—create them?” I scratched my head.

Yarael pulled a drawstring bag out of her black satchel. A bundle of bones pooled into her hand. “If the veins were created it couldn’t have been from a single being. It had to be a collective. Maybe an entire realm.” She cradled the bones together in her palm. Click clack. “A single person couldn’t have that much power. For my sanity, I have to believe that.”

“But why? How?”

Bri snorted. His large nostrils flaring. “It’s a single being. Look at religions across all realms, even in Mundane. They all draw on one powerful being. That is LUCA.” His forked tongue slipped out of his mouth. “Bones, Yaya?”

“Yarael, you reptile.” Yarael loosely cupped the collection of small bones and gave them a shake. “Let’s ask the bones.” She dumped them in the middle of the table. The three of us leaned forward as if we could read them.

“Hm…” Yarael gingerly touched a cluster of bones that gathered to the left side. “A knuckle bone, a couple of scales, and the spine of rodent. Interesting.”

Bri, entranced, leaned closer. “What do they say?” The bridge connecting the two tables pressed into his chest. His long nails dug into the edge of his side of the table.

“It says…” Yarael squinted for a moment before she leaned back and groaned. “That I need to study my Osteomancy text more.” She blew a loud raspberry into the air and turned to her black book bag. A quick sshh sounded somewhere as she pulled out a thick tome and hastily flipped through the pages. “I can’t wait until we get to specialize at the middle of the year. Going to swap my two useless classes for a divination course and maybe even another Nocturne one.”

“The Goth wants to be a Death Witch.” Bri rolled his yellow eyes. “Who would have guessed?”

“Want me to dangle a shiny coin for you to covet?” She teased.

A small growl sounded low in Bri’s throat. Yarael started to snicker.

“Guys!” I leaned back in my chair and hissed. “I need perspectives, not drama. If I go the vein route, I can have more material to fill in the paper with. But it’s dull. Imagining a single being, or a coven, or an entire realm creating magic would be more interesting to write about. So help!”

“Is Antiquities what you are going to specialize in, Elida?” Yarael carefully put her bones back in her drawstring bag.

“Mmmm…” I shrugged. “I think I’m leaning more to Apothecarie. But I still have some time to decide. I don’t know if I’ll choose my specialization at the six month mark. I can always do it at the start of next school year.”

Now the pressure of specialization and the brief started to make a knot in the middle of my neck. You are assigned a broad range of classes at the start of your first year at Bogarts. For those that know what they want (everyone but me it seems) you can ‘specialize’ your studies after the first six months and trade out any classes that don’t align with your speciality. But, if you don’t have a clue what you like, you can take the entire first year as a practice run. When they pin that second star on you though at the start of your second year, you gotta decide. Then you’re stuck with it till it’s complete. Not knowing anything about magic, other realms, or even this academy before I came here really didn’t do me any favors. The people—beings, whatever—that went to Bogarts all seemed to know what they were coming here for. I kind of stumbled here on a whim….

Not a whim, I told myself. So I can find Esti. Magical exposure to travel to other realms. Travel to Folklore.

“If you aren’t specializing in Antiquity then I would choose the easier topic for your paper. Get it done and out of the way.” Yarael put her textbook back in her bag and stood up. She swung it over one shoulder and flipped her black hair back. “I gotta go. I have to nap.”

“Lunar study tonight?” I asked, trying not to get distracted by the appealing angle I had now. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t….Well…. My eyes flickered downward for only a moment!

Yarael’s smile warmed my chest. Chest… My eyes flickered again. Two books from a bookshelf behind her flew into the air and towards a waiting table across the library. “Yup! Full moon study. If you’re awake by the time it’s over, you want to read me your paper?”

I laughed, blushing at myself. “Hopefully I’m not up all night writing it! But definitely!”

Yarael waved her goodbyes and walked out of the library.

Bri scratched a hole in one of the papers he was supposed to be grading for his work study class. The stack of ungraded papers next to him had not budged since he took them out of his folio. “You really want to do a deep dive on LUCA?”

I shrugged. “I woudn’t know what books to look for. These two were all the librarian said they had.”

“Had here,” the Dragonborne grinned.

My head perked up. “Is there another library?”

Bri folded his arms across his broad chest, smug smile plastered on his predatory face. For a moment, I felt like a rabbit staring down a boa. “There’s the Mundane Anthenaeum.”

Sometimes I hated not knowing a thing about other realms before coming to this school. There was always something new to learn. I sighed, already feeling exhausted. “… Which is?”

“The Anthenaeum is a floating library in between realms. It’s holds every book ever written. When new books get published, a copy appears waiting to be shelved. Think of it like….A universal backstock of books. Mostly the high class, elite society types have full access to it. They end up creating their own portals in their houses most of the time. But all magical academies have a branch that connects to it. Aaaaand,” Bri opened his arms and held his hands up. “Transfers from other schools get temporary access while they are out of their home school. Part of the ‘sharing knowledge’ initiative that forces students to travel to other schools in the first place. I could let you use my temporary card. You can’t bring a plus one so, one card equals one body. You’d go alone.”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Which is how I found myself standing outside of a pearl doorway with a silver wolf head as a handle. Bri told me to give his card to the wolf. I didn’t understand at the time, but now I’m even more confused. I showed the library card—a square piece of titanium—to the door handle and looked around in case someone was going to jump out of a corner yelling “gotcha!”

The wolf sunk his teeth into the card and the door swung inward. I chased after the card and when the door fully opened the wolf released it. For some reason, I felt obligated to pet the door handle. So….I did.

When it didn’t react, I slid the curiously unscathed card back into my pocket. Lame.

To say the Mundane Anthenaeum was an enormous library would be an even more enormous understatement. Easily twice the size of the library at Bogarts which could have been the size of a regular university back home. The walls and ceiling were made of the same pearl as the door. The light shining from the windows cast an iridescent gleam across the white marble staircases. A pair of them on either side of the room. They twirled upwards to a second level.

There were no flying books like at Bogarts. The entire atmosphere was still, calm, quiet. I thought I could hear the dust drifting in the sunlight. The only sound other than my thoughts racing was the turning of pages. A comforting scratching sound coming from all directions in front of me. It was also the only indication that I wasn’t here alone.

I walked along the first floor looking for a librarian or some kind of help desk. A place this massive I wouldn’t want to waste time searching for a book. The only thing I had come across were white marble coffee tables and grey plush seats. In a corner was a small fountain of a mermaid. Her hands were running through her hair. Her smile smug. The water rushed underneath her tail and shot in streams behind her as if she were putting on a performance. Part of me wanted to toss a coin in. I peered into the water but the bottom was clear. Lame.

I risked breaking the still air. “Hello? Excuse me?” I looked around, but not a soul answered. Not even a hush. My voice seemed to dissipate in the air like walking into a mist of perfume. Seemingly there but gone almost instantly.

I walked up the staircase on the right. As I ascended, the iridescent glow made the banister shimmer and sparkle. My fingertips danced on the edge as if I was playing the piano. For some reason it made me giddy to be here. Like I was sneaking into a mansion I had no business being in. Whatever treasures awaited, who could say?

On the second level were endless pearlescent bookshelves filled to the brim with books. Spines of brown, black, red, and green stood out against the expanse of white. They stood at attention, waiting for someone to peruse their contents, and I hoped they had a sign or something on the ends.

There was nothing.

Sighing, I started to feel the weight of my paper bearing down on me. Excitement turning into dread. Maybe I should just go with the easy choice? I could bullshit two pages….

I walked down a random aisle and casually looked at the titles on the spine. I couldn’t read the titles! Panicked, I quickened my pace to another aisle and realized all the titles on the spines looked like swiggly nonsense. I took a book off the shelf and flipped through the pages. Same swiggles. As if someone just filled a book with random pen lines and called it writing.

“What the hell…” I replaced the book and drifted into another aisle. What kind of place was this? No help and unable to read the books? I was starting to think Bri was pranking me. Dread flared into panic. It fluttered around my head like a bird kamikaze. I felt my pace quicken to every bookshelf I could find. There had to be something I could read…

Distracted, I ran into the shoulder of someone in an aisle. “Oh,” I took a step backwards as he turned to face me. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

The first thing I noticed was the winged dragon tattoo on the side of his neck. When he turned I got a good look at it. It was a dragon eating it’s own tail with a single wing. The second thing I noticed were his shrewd black eyes.

He flipped a black lock of hair out of his face and raised an eyebrow at me. “Careful,” he warned. His voice was honey in a warm cup of tea, but his gaze was a poisoned dagger.

Embarrassed and out of place, I tried to smile to ease my anxiety. “You can actually read that?” I looked at the open book in his hand. More gibberish to me.

The man smirked and instantly I felt foolish. He snapped the book shut and held it near his head. His cheekbones were as sharp as his jawline. “First time here?” The pretentious tone in his voice pricked under my skin.

It felt like a trap so I raised my head. “Do I look like a first timer?” Could I get into trouble for using Bri’s card? I didn’t think to ask before…

The man cast his discerning gaze up and down my frame. “You’re nervous. You don’t seem to know where you’re going.” He leaned towards me. His eyelashes caught the sunlight. A devilish grin pulled his lips back. “I can pluck the truth out of you if you don’t want to answer.”

Seeing I had made an error, I laughed shakily and shrugged. “Well! You caught me. Yup! First timer, for sure!” I snapped my fingers awkwardly.

The man’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “No one taught you what to do?”

Another shrug. “Only how to get in.”

He opened his free hand in front of me. “Card, please, dear.”

“Um…” I hesitated. How much trouble would Bri get in if I lost this?

The man tsked and straightened. “I don’t have time for this.” He raised his hand into the space above my head and plucked at the air. As if he was playing an invisible harp. He moved three fingers back and forth at nothing.

Instantly, my fear was gone. My anxiety, nervousness, indecision. The only thing I felt was calm and confident.

The man smiled again. “That’s better.” He offered his hand again.

I casually handed him Bri’s card. “How did you…”

The man unbuttoned his white collared shirt and pulled it back to reveal another tattoo. A single open eye with a swirling iris right over his peck. He rebuttoned his shirt. “I’m an Aquinas. Manipulating energy is what I do, darling.” He flashed the card at me. “Now, pay attention. Here you will find every book ever written. But they are warded. So someone can’t casually walk by their own book and spoil their ending. How do you get past this ward?” He waved the card. “This baby. This is your assistant. Tell it what you’re looking for and it will guide you to the aisle it’s in. You’ll also be able to read the books relating to that topic. When you’ve found it, you simply walk out with it. A return date will be stamped on the back once you exit. If you don’t return it in person by the date, it will simply return itself.”

He handed me Bri’s library card and adjusted his collar. “I’m such a Good Samaritan.” He grinned at himself. “I deserve a monument.” He flicked a black lock of hair over his head.

Even though I was thankful for the tutorial, more questions swirled in my head. Own book? Manipulating energy? I couldn’t help myself from asking at least one. “What’s an Aquinas?” The man raised his eyebrow at me again. That smirk was devilishly delicious. “I’m Elida, by the way. And…Thank you. For your help.” Maybe it was the lack of anxiety. Maybe it was that I felt confident in front of him. Maybe it was just me. But I flashed my own smile which I hope was just as enticing. “Can I get your name?”

“Student at Bogarts, I assume?” The man placed his book back on the bookshelf and turned to face me fully, stamping his hands on his hips.

“We are in the Mundane branch, so,” I shrugged noncommittally trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

“Vale Voel. Deal Maker and Aquinas. At no one’s service but my own.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. The way his hair gracefully fell across his eyes should have been a crime. “Originally from Westorburgh but I pray I never see that dreaded realm again. If you’re specalizing in Antiquities I might be your professor. Being an Aquinas, I have a unique perspective on the veins of magic.”

“LUCA?” The excitement oozed out of my voice. “I’m writing a paper on it! That’s actually why I’m here. I want to dive more into the single being theory. What’s your take?”

Vale crossed his arms across his chest. “Being an Aquinas I can feel and see the veins of magic around us. I can look at a person and make them feel how I desire simply by cutting away a few strings and tugging on a few more. I can manipulate the energy to nearly anything I want. That leads me to lean more on the veins of magic as a mycelium network theory rather than LUCA being a person, or collective. If everything is energy and that energy can be manipulated and changed, magic is simply energy that has had time to transform into something. The more we tamper with it, the more it changes. Adapts. Like a living thing. It’s simply too vast for one person or beings to create themselves. To be able to hold the entire network at once, why it would be impossible.”

“I can see why you’re a professor at Bogarts.”

“Only temporarily! I’m teaching a course but only until I decide what realm to make my fortune in. My home realm won’t cut it.”

“Is that what you’re reading about? Other realms? Trying to run away and start anew?”

It was meant as a tease, but Vale’s smile faded. His eyes slowly drifted over my shoulder as if he was remembering something and the wince that passed across his face made it seem like it was a painful memory. He looked back at the shelf forlornly.

“Actually…” Softly his fingers trailed across the spines of the books in front of him. “I was hoping to find a cure.” He turned back to me and placed a closed fist over his heart. “Short of cutting it out I’m not sure there is anything to be done for this.”

“A cure for a broken heart. They must be in Westorburgh, huh?” When he didn’t answer I tried to smile. “I’ve had my fair share of broken hearts. The best revenge? Succeeding without them. Make yourself something and go back to your home realm. Show them what they missed out on!”

Vale’s eyebrows lifted. The forlorn look in his eyes faded. I looked at Bri’s library card. I better get going.

“Something given for something gained,” Vale said softly. Our eyes met and he smiled. “That’s the Dealer’s motto. I gave you information and you gave me my next steps.” He bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Elida. I hope you find the answers for your paper.”

I walked out of the aisle, waving at Vale as he fished for something in his pocket. “You too!”

You too? I slapped my palm against my forehead as I rounded a corner. “Card,” I groaned to the little peice of metal. “Show me where the books on LUCA are. I want to find any that talk about the theory of LUCA coming from a being, not as a network.”

The grey metal turned golden and warmed my hand. I pointed it in a direction and it grew colder, the opposite it grew warmer. I smiled. “Aaah!”

A harsh shush came from one of the bookshelves I passed. My shoulders hunched over. I walked through the middle of the second floor and crossed a large round table. Multiple chairs were facing around it but only one was occupied. A woman with long, straight red hair and orange freckles scattered across her face was nose deep in a book about flowers. I imagined it was about flowers since there was a giant golden flower on the cover.

I passed her and turned into a forest of more bookshelves. The card getting slightly warmer with every step until it was nearly burning my hand. As I stepped into an empty aisle, I realized I could read the titles!

L.U.C.A. A Study of Magic, The Last Universal Ancestor, What Is A Universe? L.U.C.A. In its Entirety, and even my two textbooks from class— L.U.C.A. Everyone’s Favorite Ancestor and Threads of Fate and Magic. The Mycelium Network.

I hadn’t noticed the card turning back into its grey titanium until I dropped it in my pocket. The entire aisle was filled with books I could read about L.U.C.A. But which one would be the theory I wanted to read about?

Excited simply to be able to read the pages, I grabbed random books and started to flip through them. They all seemed to favor the mycelium network. L.U.C.A. was simply an organism that happened to exist when the universe was formed. As more realms created themselves, the organism morphed and adapted to it’s surroundings.

After grazing through four books I started to fear the writing on the wall. Was I the only one who thought this could have been created? Maybe I should have looked into religious texts instead?

Stubbornly, I grabbed one last text from the shelf; The Secret of L.U.C.A.

I opened the cover and my breath caught in my throat. There. Above the title of the book, was handwriting I thought I’d never see again.

If you’ve picked this one up, you are an interesting being. Don’t mind my notes. Just a girl bored with her studies. I love making my tutor upset by writing in books.

I’m convinced Luca was created by a single person and this is the only research text on the subject. I begged my tutor to obtain it. I might be young and foolish as my father says but I hope you don’t mind the additions I’ve made. I have access to a lot of beings, knowledge, and privilege. Which I’ve used to learn as much as I can about this subject to include here.

If you’re still reading, you must not hate beings who write in books.

Esti of Eldaine

I knew it was her handwriting but seeing her name signed on the page still made my heart flip. My mind flipped through the memories of another book she had written in. The correspondence of two women in between the margins that led to the greatest kiss of my life and coming to Bogarts in the first place. I closed the book and held it close to my chest. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. As if I turned right now her arms around be wrapped around me. I’d flick her long ears just to annoy her.

Suddenly, my heart ached too much to think about it. If you’re still reading, you must not hate beings who write in books. I smiled.

“You have no idea,” I whispered into the book.

I ran out of the Anthenaeum faster than I knew was possible. Just like Vale said, as soon as the door closed behind me, a two week return date printed itself on the back of the book.

Over the course of the next few days, I found myself obsessed with the words written in the margins. The text itself wasn’t that long and it wouldn’t have taken me long to read it if I wasn’t distracted by every comment Esti made.

She seemed younger. Her handwriting was a little more messy than I remember and she kept mentioning her family as if she didn’t really know anyone else. When I met Esti, she rarely spoke about her family or where she was from. In fact, she only really told me to educate me about other realms in general. Why had I never thought to ask more about her family? Her home life?

“Why don’t you try visiting Eldaine?” Tayla said as she twirled a small marble of fire between her knuckles.

“We do have a break coming up! Every three months we can choose to leave Bogarts for a bit of ‘fresh air’,” Celaya dealt her and Tayla a handful of cards each and placed two facedown in the center.

The three of us sat at the dining table in the Hearth Tower. We were waiting for Sophie and Yarael to finish their classes so we could grab a late dinner together at the Dining Hall.

I traced over a note Esti made about a woman she had heard of who could create things without manipulating any energy. I smiled. Always on the search for something. You haven’t really changed.

“Traveling costs money,” I said softly. “And I wouldn’t know the first thing about going to Eldaine, where it is, or how to travel to another realm in general.”

Out of the five of us I was the one with the least amount of magical exposure before coming to Bogarts. “I tried to go to Folklore once and the woman who was going to take me told me I couldn’t cross the border because of my lack of magical experience. Then she enrolled me here to fix that.”

Tayla and Celaya flipped the cards in the center at the same time and started piling on their cards on top as quickly as they could. When they both couldn’t drop a card, they paused.

“Folklore?” Tayla sighed dreamily. “I’ve always wanted to go!”

“Your guide was right. Exposure to magic changes our DNA. Some borders are harder to cross than others. Folklore, being a middle realm, is a pretty tough one to cross. Being in the middle means it’s at the center of everything. Closest to LUCA. Their borders aren’t the hardest to cross, but it’s fairly up there.”

I turned a page in my text and laughed at a comment Esti made about her tutor.

Wingless faerie. Doesn’t understand the importance of what I’m trying to do here. Waste of immortality, if you ask me.

“Im…” I stuttered. “Immortality?” How had I not noticed that before?

Tayla slapped her remaining five cards on a single pile and threw her hands in the air. “I won!”

Celaya’s head whipped in my direction. “Esti is immortal?”

“I…” I shook my head. My brain spinning. “I don’t know. She at least knows someone who is. Her tutor.”

Tayla smugly laced her fingers behind her head. “You said she’s an elf, right?” I nodded. “There are different races of elves. Some immortal, some not. So she could be or she could be taught by someone who is and isn’t immortal herself. It never came up?”

“I don’t think they did much talking,” Celaya winked at Tayla across from her.

I blushed. “We did! But…” I fiddled with the corner of the page. “We didn’t spend that much time together before…” Before I left. Before she didn’t meet up with me. Before I came here.

I felt two hands grab my shoulders and start to massage them. The palms were warm and the heat soothed my muscles. “Whoa, El, you’re tense!” Sophie increased the pressure. “It’s just a paper! And it’s a paper based on opinion! Thats eaaaaasy.”

Tayla frowned. “It’s Esti.”

Her hands stopped as I leaned back. “Oh.”

“Nose still in that book?” Yarael sat at the table with us. She held a bundle of papers in her hand and she started to organize them at the table. “How many times have you read Esti’s handwriting?”

I groaned and covered my face.

“Too many times,” Celaya answered for me.

Yarael laughed. “You’re obsessed.”

Tayla shoved her elbow as I pulled my hands away. “She’s in love.”

“She’s pining,” Yarael deadpanned.

“She’s yearning!”

“She’s right here.” I stood from the table, face burning. “And she’s hungry. Can we go?”

At dinner I was criticized for bringing the book by Yarael. True, it was silly, and I had read over the book a few times now, enough to write a paper on my opinion of L.U.C.A many times over, but I couldn’t part with it. When I looked at her handwriting it gave me the same rush it did when we first met in the margins. She felt closer somehow, even if I had no idea where she was now. Was she seeking me out too? Missing me?

So I’ll say it in all caps.

You always write in all caps.

I LIKE YOU.

The memory of us writing back and forth kept playing in my mind. How I teased her about that for a few pages and in person when we met again. Her stubborn smile. The way her pointy ears blushed at the tips.

“We should probably all get jobs,” Tayla said as she munched on a fried chicken finger. I flinched, caught. “If we work and save now we will be more prepared for when we leave Bogarts.”

Sophie sighed. The squash soup nearly finished in front of her. “I dont know. Six years of study is a long time. Why rush things?”

“In three we will be traveling to different schools.” Yarael waved a fork full of steak and rice. She popped it into her mouth and spoke as she chewed. “What if you want to explore the realm? You’ll need money then.”

Sophie cried out and pushed her soup away from her. It dissapeared from the table. “I came to this school so I wouldn’t have to work.”

“You came to this school so you wouldn’t burn your house down,” Tayla muttered.

We laughed and universally agreed. I tried to imagine Esti sitting at the table with us. Would she get along with everyone? Would she be criticizing the food? As Sophie stole the last chicken finger off Tayla’s plate and threw it over her shoulder, I laughed a little louder. She would love them.

“What if the coven or collective idea is all the blood in the ground from magic users who have died?” I tapped my fingers on a page that Esti had only written ‘burial rites’. Which got my head spinning a bit. I didn’t have time to rewrite my entire thesis, but this was still nagging me.

Yarael waved her fork in the air as if she were spelling the words. “It could be…Most burials are in ground across the realms. I’ve hardly read any magical being that was cremated. All chose to decompose.”

Tayla frowned. “And we just keep…Recycling it? Their ‘dead’ magic? Until we die and give it back? Over and over?”

An eerie silence stretched over us. Suddenly the chatter around the table was loud enough to deafen our ears. Laughter, complicated conversations, study tactics melded into a chorus of white noise. Eons seemed to pull apart around us just to snap back into this moment. As if it had all been part of the plan. Like we had, had this discussion before. Many times over.

“Repeating…” Sophie said softly. “The same fate…”

We finished our meals in silence. After that, no one wanted to hear about L.U.C.A or Esti.

A few days later, my paper was written and my book companion disappeared from my nightstand. It had returned itself to Anthenaeum, I suppose. When I woke and found it missing, I felt the hole in my heart tear a little more.

But Esti helped me get an A. Although Yarael joked that I could have written anything and still received an A. It still made me proud. Maybe I’ll get to tell her one day. That would make me even prouder.

1.2. Seeking…

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one at Bogarts seeking something else. I’m in the common room of the Hearth Tower where all those specializing in a similar speciality are housed. They split us up by floor. The newbies (like me) are on the first floor. I’m staring at four women in front of me and I suddenly feel as if I’m the only one left standing alone on the beach while everyone else plays in the water.

I’m here for a reason. To be able to broaden my mind so I can travel to other realms and find someone I lost along the way. Looking at these women, were they only here for their studies?

Were any of them seeking something else?

“Anybody want a drink?” I call from the kitchen in the center of the common area. I set five glasses in front of me and looked around the room as a resounding ‘YES’ shouted at me from multiple directions.

I didn’t want to be in my head the entire night.

Four women were strewn across the carpeted floor. Two were sitting in front of small round mirrors that floated in the air above their laps, carefully applying their makeup. Another was lacing up a corset on herself. The last was sauntering over to me with a sneaky grin on her face. Her hand trailed across my shoulders as she curled around me. I held the bottle of tequila in my hand slightly out of her reach.

“Oh you think you’re hot shit now that you passed your first test, hmmm?” She teased. Her teeth were stark white against her black lipstick.

“Yarael,” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Stop flirting with me. You sure that aphrodisiac didn’t work on you?”

Yarael threw her head back with a sharp laugh. Long, black, straight hair flew over her bare, pale shoulders. The black fabric she was wearing could barely be described as a tank, but I dare not say ‘top’. “If I ever find anything as attractive as a burrito at Taco Bell, you’ll be the first to know.” She shrugged. “Actually. You’d probably be it.”

My breath caught in my throat. My stupid cheeks flamed up but before I could think of a witty comeback, one of the women applying her makeup let out a loud, dramatic groan.

The gilded mirror fell into her lap and she threw her hands in the air. A purple line slightly out of place over her waterline made her left eye look like it had been punched. “Yarael! Help me put on my eyeliner!”

I took that moment to appreciate Yarael’s black, thick winged eyeliner. The way it narrowed into the middle of her eyes and flared out towards her temples. It was immaculate.

“Tell Elida to hurry up with the drinks and I will.” She threw back.

I realized then I was still holding the unopened tequila bottle. Quickly, I spun around to the fridge and grabbed the lime juice I had squeezed earlier (honestly preparing for this night), a bottle of Cointreau, and set them on the island counter.

One of my favorite things about sharing a tower with other first pins at Bogarts was that we were all grouped by our interests. So ‘kitchen witches’, ‘death-inclined,’ and ‘fire mages’ were set in one tower. Our talents complement one another in so many ways. But the best thing about this tower? The fact that the kitchen was at the center of everything.

I just started my journey here (we kind of all did) and already I’ve walked in on Sophie and Tayla sparking fires in the large fireplace behind me. Sophie was trying to see her fortune in the embers while Tayla was trying to see if she could create a fire spirit on her own. I’ve seen bones and skulls scattered across this very island counter as Yarael tried her hand at bleaching bones. The smell was atrocious! And Celaya! My stomach is already rumbling at the thought of her late night sweets waking me up in the middle of the night!

Our rooms were on the first floor due to our rank in the school. So we got the pleasure of hearing the second pins above us stomping and screaming at all hours of the day. But you couldn’t leave your room or the tower without first passing by this kitchen.

I threw in a few drizzles of the strawberry syrup I’ve been tinkering with lately. I’m trying to see which style of syrup, oleo saccharum, or infusion would last the longest out of the fridge. You never know when you won't have access to refrigeration and a good strawberry syrup can transform the flavor profile of a drink or tincture. So there are about six different bottles of a strawberry mixture underneath the island counter in front of me. Some of them look kind of questionable.

I should probably toss some of these…

“Elida!”

I quickly shook the mixture and split it between four glasses. “Pushy, pushy!” I tsked.

Yarael took two glasses in each hand—”server in my mundane life,” she explained when I opened my mouth to protest—and passed them to the girls sitting on the floor. She sat in front of Tayla, the blonde fire mage nearly in tears at the smudged eyeliner at the corner of her tear duct.

“Drink and chill.” Yarael pinched the eyeliner stick out of Tayla’s fingers and dapped the makeup off her eyes.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Celaya to Sophie asked as she teased her dirty blonde hair in the back.

Sophie, white hair rolled in curls and an eye mask under both eyes, was quickly taking off her shirt and tossing it onto a lone couch in the corner. Her polka dot bra exposed, she looked through a large tote bag. “I brought options.” She turned to the group with a blue dress pressed against her chest. “What do we think?”

Tayla pursed her lips. “What are the choices?”

Sophie sighed and dumped the entire tote bag onto the floor. Multiple shirts, dresses, and skirts crumpled onto one another.

Yarael shook her head. “She wasn’t lying.”

Sophie picked up a pink v-neck and dropped the dress. “Too slutty?”

Celaya, who was prepping her face with moisturizer in the other floating handheld mirror, pressed her back against Tayla’s. She used the mirror to look at Sophie’s shirt. “You’d need boobs to make that slutty.”

Tayla sputtered. Yarael clicked her tongue against her teeth with the eyeliner pen paused in the air. “Hold still!”

I sipped on another margarita I had made behind the counter.

Celaya gasped when she saw me. “Bad luck!”

“Oops!” I set the drink down quickly. “I forgot—”

“Cheers, girls!” Celaya raised her glass and the rest of the women followed suit. Once they shouted cheers we all took a sip.

Celaya nodded back to me. “Now you can drink freely. Never take the first drink alone!”

Tayla nodded as Yarael took a big swig of her margarita. “The first sip is how you end the night. Take it alone, you end the night alone.” As if it was the law.

“Are you changing?” Yarael called to me over her shoulder.

I looked at my outfit. A black cropped tee and dark jeans. Nothing too complicated. “I wore this to class. Is it not good enough for tonight?”

Celaya tried on a black strapless dress and twirled for the room to gauge. “It’s the first Academy party of the year! All the houses will be there. Every student from first pins to sixth. It’s your first impression! You gotta look good.”

Yarael made some final adjustments to Tayla’s eyeliner. “It’s a resume builder.”

“Can you do my eyeliner next?” Celaya dabbed foundation across her cheeks. “I want to try a different look! Tay, can we match colors?”

Tayla beamed. “Of course!” She looked around the room. “We should all match! Like a club thing!” She reached for a sparkling powder and started to dap it over her collarbone and shoulders.

“Another round?” I raised my glass before finishing it.

Everyone quickly finished their drinks. I walked around the room to gather the glasses. The question hit me again.

Was I the only one here for something more?

As I walked back to the kitchen island I weighed asking the crowd. I didn’t want to ruin the fun energy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

When Yarael moved to sit in front of Celaya, Tayla walked towards Sophie and helped her lace the back of a lace corset.

“Suck in!” She barked with a rough tug.

I poured the drinks and passed them back around. “Does anyone care if they don't get the same glass?”

“If we get sick, we get sick.” Tayla shrugged. She spun Sophie around to look at the outfit. She shook her head. “Too much.”

Sophie groaned and grabbed her chest. “If I had tits this wouldn’t be so hard!”

“I know some other things that would be hard,” Celaya grinned as Yarael started to draw a small line at her waterline.

Tayla unlaced the corset. Sophie put her hands on her hips and turned her head towards me. “Find a potion that will make my boobs grow.”

I laughed. “I’m sure there are physically altering potions. But I doubt they last a lifetime.”

“I’ll take it every day.”

Tayla smiled. “Like a supplement!”

“Oh, it’s a supplement all right!” Celaya kept grinning.

Yarael pulled the eyeliner back. A scowl tearing at her black lipstick. “If you keep this up I’m leaving you with only one eye finished. Hold still.”

Sophie raised her glass. “Drink, you bitches. I need it!” She threw the glass back and emptied it in two gulps before the rest of us finished our first sip.

Tayla coughed. “Whoa, this one is strong! What is this tequila with a shot of strawberry?” She looked at the glass. “Can a girl get a rim or something?”

Celaya opened her mouth but closed it when Yarael’s sharp eyes cut her off.

Sophie picked up a blue dress and placed it against herself. She looked at Tayla who was rummaging through the pile of other clothes. “Anything good?”

Tayla frowned. “We aren’t the same size.”

“For me to wear,” Sophie argued as I gave her a top off. I walked around the room with a fresh glass and filled everyone’s drinks. Tayla looked at hers suspiciously.

I finished the small sip that was left in the glass and placed it back on the kitchen island. I looked through the bottom of the glass.

I couldn’t keep it in any longer. The words spinning and spinning.  Getting louder with every minute. It just came out of me like word vomit. “Is anyone actually here for something else? Like…Not schoolwork or a degree?”

Yarael finished Celaya’s eyeliner as Celaya turned her head to look at me. Yarael rolled her eyes and turned to me as well.

“What an odd question.” Yarael shook her head. “Do you have a secret agenda?”

As Sophie took her blue dress off and took the black skirt Tayla handed her from the pile on the floor, she gasped. “Are you a spy, Elida?”

Tayla smiled wide. “Ooh! Here to get all of Bogart’s secrets and write a book about it! Exposing us all!”

I laughed lightly. “No no…I just…Sometimes I feel like everyone….” I busied my hands with making another drink and avoiding their gazes. “Is fulfilled with going to class. Becoming a master in their speciality. And me…I feel…Almost like a fraud. Truthfully, I’m here to build my exposure and tolerance to magic. So I can travel realms and find someone.” I shrugged as I poured another strawberry margarita into my cup. “I think it’s interesting to learn these things, but I don’t have any aspirations to use my specialization to make a living or anything like everyone else here.”

I finally looked up. All eight eyes stared holes into me. I feared the glass would break underneath the weight of their gazes.

Tayla finished her drink and hissed. “Ugh that’s strong. I’m only here to learn to make a fire spirit of my own.” She opened her palm and a small ball of flame appeared. She made a fist and the fire snuffed itself out. “I can’t learn that without mastering the basics. I don’t know what class or professor or book I find will help me. It’s never been done by a fire mage. But that’s why I’m going to be the first.” She shrugged.

Sophie tucked a white top into the waistband of the skirt. “A real, sentient spirit? For what?”

Tayla shrugged. “So I’ll never be alone.”

The force of her vulnerability pushed Sophie to speak. “I’m trying to master fire divination. So I can change my fate. A fire mage showed me an awful future. Blood, death, pain. I don’t want that. But fire divination is technically forbidden. So…I’m hoping to learn something or someone who can help me master the technique.”

Yarael grinned. “Sounds like a great future to me. Do you think that person is here at Bogarts?”

Sophie pursed her lips and touched one of the rollers in her hair. “Maybe in Wytchfyre. I need to do at least three years here to be able to travel to other schools. That’s going to be the first place I go.”

Yarael whistled. “Wytchfyre is intense. They practice a lot of the old ways. Blood magic, too. Maybe we can go together.”

Celaya finally turned back to her floating mirror and started to dab her cheeks with blush. “I need an accreditation from a good school to become an apprentice at any magical bakery. I don’t know what realm I want to settle in. But I know I want to create pastries that make people feel good—”

“—and fatten them up—” I teased.

Celaya laughed. “The mundane can’t offer me that. That’s why I’m here.” She nodded to Yarael. “You next.”

Yarael looked around the room. “It’s not obvious? Only at a magic academy can I play with bones and death and bring things back to life without being imprisoned. Do I know what I want to do with that? Nah. But it’s the only thing I’m passionate about. Why waste my time doing anything else?”

“What’s their name?” Sophie asked me before she finished her drink. “The person you want to find?”

I took another sip as I recalled her stiff handwriting in the margins of a book I randomly found one day. Her name written out flashed before me as I answered. “Esti Meade.” I felt myself smile as I spoke her name out loud. “She’s an elf and a reaaaallly good cook.” I smiled wider at Celaya. “You’d really like her!” I suddenly felt self conscious. On display. “We met briefly…But…I’d like to find her again.”

“The universe is vast,” Yarael warned.

Tayla swooned and clasped her hands to her chest. “Sooooo romantic!”

Celaya raised her glass. “A drink to Esti, then!”

Sophie waved her empty glass in the air. “Wait, wait! I need another!”

Tayla sprung to her feet. “Me too!” She took hers and Sophie’s glass to the counter where I stood.

Yarael and Celaya finished their glasses and walked to the counter as well. Sophie followed behind them. As I quickly made another batch of margaritas it finally occurred to me.

We were all seekers. Each one of us was seeking something. Not just me.

As I refilled everyone’s cup, Yarael snickered. “We are going to be too drunk to leave this tower.”

“Speaks for yourself!” Tayla slurred as she tapped her glass against Yarael’s.

“To us!” I raised my glass in the air. “And the goals we seek. I believe in every single one of us.”

“Hell yeah!” Sophie cried as we brought our cups together.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel so out of place. In the company of seekers I was merely another one.

Which I supposed answered the question I had earlier…

1.1 Deals and Dragon Smoke

*Countdown to test that could ruin my life- 4 days.

So I’m watching the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen create a ball of grass in the air above her open hand. She pushes her fingers together. Slowly, elegantly. The tips of her almond shaped nails—blue ombré with a silver tear shaped diamond sparkling on her ring finger—barely below the root ball. As her fingers move, I can see roots slither through the dirt and grass. A green bud gently breaks the surface. It curves and wobbles its way towards the open air. The woman’s fingers are still, as if she turned them to stone, and the stalk grows a little thicker, sturdier. The

Two leaves sprout from the sides and suddenly the small bud turns inward on itself. Folds slice themselves open. Pink petals stretch backwards towards the air, as if looking for the sun even though we are inside a library in the dead of night. They lengthen until the entire head of the flower stands upright. A pink gerbera daisy with a dark black center stares at me proudly.

I look into the cauldron in front of me and frown at the bitter contents. A black, burned mess of sticky liquid that doesn’t even have the decency to show my reflection.

It’s okay. I don’t want to see myself anyway.

I sigh and absentmindedly look back at the woman two tables ahead of me. I spy the two silver stars pinned to her collar.

A second year, I think to myself. Maybe that should comfort me. She’s had an entire year to master whatever the hell she’s doing. While I’m just starting.

The daisy’s petals start to shimmer.

I roll my eyes. Now she’s just showing off.

I twirl my pen between my fingers and bang the back of it against the temple. I stare at the Apothecarie book in front of me. The words look like gibberish. I’ve stared at it too long. I look back inside the cauldron, secretly hoping for a different outcome, but the black conglomerate stares back.

I throw my back against my chair and hang my head over it. The vaulted ceilings of the library at Bogarts is as beautiful as ever. Even though I’ve only been here for a few weeks, I doubt I will ever get tired of looking at it.

The ceiling is black with small pinpricks of holes drilled into them revealing the stars above. The holes have been created to reflect the constellations currently above us and the ceiling rotates with them throughout the year. It’s supposed to help those in Cosmos better identify stars with the light pollution in the mundane world.

‘Mundane world’. Man I sound like such an expert now.

A few weeks ago I was living a relatively normal life. I had moved back into my mother’s house to sort through her things after she passed and I found a random book at a coffee shop someone had left. From there, it kind of all escalated. Now I’m staring at a manufactured ceiling built for a school that teaches about magic to people from different worlds.

‘Realms,’ I mean. Important distinction.

About to fail out of said magic school if I can’t decode this ancient recipe. It’s our first test in my Apothecarie class (potion making, alchemy, discovery of ingredients and their magical uses). We were all assigned different recipes from an handful of ancient books. Which means decoding an old language (mine isn’t even from my realm), finding the ingredients, and recreating the recipe perfectly.

But, looking at the burned mess scorched into the bottom of my homework cauldron, there’s no way I got the translation right. I either messed up the recipe or messed up the ingredients. Or both.

I stand out of my chair and grab the cast iron cauldron with both hands. This is our homework cauldron. Which looks just like all the others and stays in the school. But that also means it has to stay in good condition. So I can’t let this stuff just sit in here.

I pass by the beautiful second year as she makes the petals of her daisy shimmer monochromatic colors. We smile at each other. I try not to roll my eyes as I look away. It’s not her fault she’s amazing at her craft and I’m probably going to fail my first test. Will they expel me after my first failure? Or do I make it up with some extra credit like in regular—I mean ‘mundane’—school.

I walk out of the study hall and pass a couple of bookshelves. Three books close to my head start to shimmy their way out of their respective places and fly into the air. They shoot off as if late for an appointment.

I round a corner and am hit with the smell of iron and soap. The room opens into a large tiled bathroom. There’s a large trough sink against the wall in front of me. White, speckled tiles on the floor and green and gold tiles on the wall. Stacks of clean classroom cauldrons are precariously perched on either side of the trough. Long bristle brushes hang over the sink. I walk towards a set of gold faucets sticking out of the wall and set my cauldron inside. Then I reach overhead to grab a cleaning brush.

There are seven other faucets on either side of me, but the room is empty. Thank goodness.

I turn the faucet and wet the brush. A few pumps of the soap dispenser from the wall and now I’m elbow deep in whatever monstrosity goo I’ve created. Maybe I didn’t get the recipe wrong and the potion was actually for extra strength glue. Because this stuff does not want to come off.

The smell of metal makes my nose scrunch. I’m not the biggest fan of cast iron. I prefer a good clay pot. When—rather if—I specialize in an area for my degree I’m going to trade the cast iron cauldron for a good olla. If I don’t get kicked out first, that is.

Sweat is starting to wet my upper lip and I’m considering how anyone could possibly know it was me if I left this cauldron in the sink unclean— when I hear a chuckle over my shoulder.

Oh right. Serial number on the bottom. They would definitely know it was me.

I set the cauldron down with the brush inside and wipe my sweat off with the back of my semi-dry wrist. I turn to see the clown that’s been chuckling at my expense.

A tall, slender man with wavy black hair and brown eyes is causally leaning against the leaning tower of clean cauldrons. His arms are crossed, right underneath his three star pins, and he’s wearing a long, black trench coat like he’s auditioning to be the next morally grey villain in a fantasy novel.

He chuckles again and unfortunately has really great teeth. He raises an eyebrow at me and I scowl as I feel my stomach flip.

“Do you wanna help or are you just enjoying the show?”

“Maybe you should soak it first and come back to it? You seem to be giving yourself quite the workout.”

I roll my eyes and feel the butterflies die in my stomach. Thank god he’s an idiot. Attractiveness lowered. “Soaking for a long period of time is bad for cast iron. We might be in a magic school, but cast iron is the same anywhere.” Right?

His smirk widens and I feel like a kid that just admitted she believed in Santa Claus. “Or,” he thumbs to a spot over his shoulder. “You could fill it with water and simmer it for a while to bring that stuff out. Dry it completely.” He shrugged. “Unless you want the shoulder exercise.” The hesitation in the air makes his smile fade. “There is a table with burners in the other room.”

I look at the black gunk coating the cauldron. “I…Could try that.” I’d try anything at this point.

Suddenly, his arms are reaching into the sink and emptying out the cauldron of soap. He fills it with more water and plucks it out. Our shoulders brush. “I apologize for laughing. It was amusing, but I can see it offended you.”

Oh no. Don’t actually be nice. “You’ve already made it up to me if this tip works out.” I reach for my cauldron. “I can take that—”

He starts to walk towards the next room. “I insist. I’m curious what,” he looked into the cauldron and pursued his lips, “you’re trying to make here.”

I follow him into another room. It’s smaller than the cleaning room. A large, blank whiteboard is on one wall, with posters of chemical compounds on another. At the center is one community table with four burners perched on the counter top. Underneath the table are the gas containers.

“What is this room used for?” I ask as he sets the cauldron on the first burner.

“Mainly elementals practicing their magic. Creating fire, putting it out, manipulating it. But,” he turned the dial on the burner and a small flame licked the bottom of the cauldron. “It can also come in handy for aspiring High Alchians.” He grinned my way.

I laughed. “I’m a long way off from that.” A High Alchian is an ultimate potion master. An elite class of potion crafters. My professor was a High Alchian. You can teach apprentices and have entire workshops and realms dedicated to you as a High Alchian. I’d be lucky to graduate this class.

“I’m just hoping for Potioneer at this point.” Was I though? Did I really want to take Apothecarie as my specialty? Being my first year I had the entire year to decide, but if I was certain I could make my selection after six months. As I watched the black layers float to the top of the simmering water, I wondered how many cast iron cauldrons I’d have to clean if I chose this as my specialty. But the image of a cute olla with a little floral design around it did seem tempting.

“Why not shoot for the stars? Why settle for Potioneer or Infusionist when you could have all the knowledge you desire in your field? High Alchians would be the only route I’d take.”

It was only then that I noticed the patch on his stupid trench coat. A fox and a raven facing each other as if they were about to fight.

“You’re a FAR member.” I couldn’t stop the distaste from coating my tone. I took a step away from him.

He chuckled again. “I’m trying to be! Knowledge is interesting to me and the more you know, the more power you have. Three years at Bogarts and I haven’t made myself useful enough to be initiated. Still a potential fox or raven. The FAR Society does have its quirks.”

More residue started to lift as the water began to steam.

“FAR members—potential or not—never do anything for free.” I subtly tap my pockets. Empty save for a single piece of paper in my back pocket. Nothing I could use to get out myself out of a bad situation if it arose. “What do you want?”

He chuckled again but didn’t meet my gaze. “You sound like you’ve dealt with them before. Is that how you found yourself here at Bogarts?”

“No.”

“Keeping your answers short now! You really do know the Society. I do have a favor to ask, but I’m willing to trade a little more for it. Maybe I can help you figure out your recipe?” He tapped the edge of the cauldron. “This can’t be what you’re going for.”

I bit my cheek. On the one hand, my limited run in with these people were not good. Outside of Bogarts Magic Academy they nearly hunted me and someone I care about down for a little bit of information we didn’t even have (at the time). But…if I wanted to stay—and I really, really did—I needed to pass this test.

I pulled out the paper from my back pocket and rolled it out on the table. It was a copy of the recipe I was assigned but my terrible translations were written in the margins. “Ignore my handwriting.”

If he had fox ears, they would have shot up. His entire face alighted and the grin turned into a genuine smile. His brown eyes sparkled and he quickly snatched the roll of paper and brought it in front of his nose.

“This is Dangvingäsh!” His eyes met mine excitedly. “Goblin-speech!”

When I didn’t react, his eyelashes fluttered and he cleared his throat. “Well…Ahem. I love languages. I can read and write many ancient languages. In my second year I specialized in Nocturne with the concentration in Linguistics. It’s lucky we found each other!” He turned the page sideways to read the notes I made in the margins and his grin returned. “Ah yes, I see where you mistranslated a few items.” He barked out a laugh. “No wonder this happened!”

He handed me the slip of paper and pulled out a drawer under the table. He took out two grey oven mitts and grabbed the cauldron. “Let’s chat!” He gleefully ran back to the trough and poured the burned contents into the sink.

He thoroughly cleaned the inside of my cauldron while humming to himself. “Oh yes, this is going to work out wonderfully!”

Once the cauldron was cleaned, he set it beside the leaning tower to dry. He turned back to me and placed his hands on his hips, shit eating grin still plastered all over his gorgeous face.

“Well! Are you ready to hear my trade?”

I felt the dread rising in my throat. “Hit me with it.”

“I will give you the correct translation of your recipe if you deliver something to someone in one of your classes.”

I frowned. It wasn’t at all what I expected. “You…want me to be your delivery girl?”

Still smiling, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid with a small note tied to the top. “I recognized you walking out of the Nocturne classroom. There is a beautiful girl in your class who I would love to get to know better. But, anytime I’ve approached her she’s completely ignored me. So I had a third year Infusionist whip up something she might like! It also has my phone number,” he added quickly.

I paused. “Is this poison?”

His jaw slacked and he quickly shook his head. “Absolutely not! Bogarts has strict magical parameters that wouldn’t let anyone knowingly hurt another person! It’s the same rules as a middle realm here. No conflicts, no fighting, no harm done to anyone. I’d be expelled and then I’d never get to join the FAR Society! Besides, I want to talk to this girl. Not kill her. I’d love to take her out on a date, actually, but first step is to get her to talk to me.” He inhaled deeply. “So. You come back to me after you deliver the vial, and I’ll give you a translated version of your recipe. Deal?”

I looked at the vial in his hand. I could be upfront with her. Warn her. He never said I had to be quiet on the details. Maybe get a professor involved.

I looked at the slip of paper in my hands. The words written looked like runes carved into stones. I checked out six different dictionaries looking for symbols that looked similar. And I don’t think I even checked out a Goblin dictionary.

I took the vial from him and handed him my recipe. If only Esti could see me right now. After all the FAR Society did to terrorize us. Here I am casually making a deal with one.

“Deal,” I said.

“Fantastic!” He plucked the paper from my fingers and slipped it into his pocket. “I’m Ansel. I’ll be here at the library waiting for you tomorrow after your classes.”

“Elida.” I nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“Have a great night, Elida!” He waved and practically skipped out of the bathroom.

*Countdown to possibly failing or passing this test- 3 days.

The next day I headed to my Nocturne class and vaguely wondered how I would know the specific woman Ansel wanted me to give his ‘gift’ to.

The class was held in a small cottage on the school grounds. The cottage itself had been built on a burial ground and the yard surrounding it was a final resting place for any magical creatures that passed away while at Bogarts. Small concrete stones with various paw prints were the only tell that you were stepping on a graveyard as you walked towards the small, brown cottage.

A few of my classmates were already piling in even though I tried to arrive early to catch everyone. How would I know?

Then, all of a sudden, I heard a familiar chuckle. Off to my rightm a few feet ahead of me, was Ansel talking nervously to a woman who’s icy stare would be enough to freeze the ground she walked on. I could tell by Ansel’s hand motions that he was trying to tell her a story. Maybe it was good. Maybe it wasn’t. But her stare was so immovable he might as well be invisible.

The clock tower let out several ceremonial gongs to strike seven am. Ansel looked into the air as a flock of birds flew overhead.

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously. “I have to get going. I hope to see you again!” As he turned to leave, he met my gaze. The bashful smile turned into a determined frown. As if warning me not to forget.

I blinked. Taken aback by the sudden change. Then his eyes widened and he hastily nodded in her direction.

I waved him off. Yes, yes. The beautiful goth chick. I see her.

He adjusted his trenchcoat and gave me an easy smile before running back towards the school.

I sighed. Already regretting the deal. I stared at the back of the woman’s head. Long, straight black hair. Pale skin. Sharp, black nails. She took a seat in the middle of the classroom. The cottage was one single room that had been outfitted with desks and chairs and a large chalkboard at the forefront of the room.

Chalk drawings of various bones with their scientific name and magical properties were carefully depicted.

She sat at the end of a long table which gave me the perfect opportunity to steal the only seat close to her. She ignored me as I sat down.

“I’m Elida,” I whispered as our professor walked in carrying a rolled piece of leather over his shoulder. He slapped the fabric on the center of his desk and rolled it out flat. A collection of various bones—long, short, white, yellowed, intact, and broken—strewn across the leather.

“I haven’t really made any friends in this class. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in my tower. You’re in the Hedge, right?”

She took out a black notebook and opened it to a blank page. Her eyes lashes were extremely long. Pale brown freckles dotted her cheeks. Her lips stained with black.

I found my gaze drifting down her neck and then realized I was no better than any man I complained about. I blushed and quickly looked at our professor at the front of the room.

“Um….I’m pretty sure I’ve walked in on you bleaching some bones in the kitchen….God that smell was awful.”

The professor pointed to a drawing of a bone that looked more like finger digit than anything. He then plucked the same bone from his collection and started explaining about various foot bones from sphinxes and their effective use in curse breaking.

She laughed softly beside me. “It is pretty terrible.”

It took everything in me not to jump out of my seat with joy. Success! I leaned towards her but kept my eyes trained up front. “You know, I heard a story once of a Death Witch that took over a Thunderbird after it died and used it to take down a really massive opponent. When do we get to that kind of learning?”

“Reanimation?” Her shoulder bumped mine. “Who is this person?”

“Um…She’s in another realm.” I hoped it didn’t go any further than that. Truth be told, that ‘story’ was in a book I had read. The same book that got me here, sure, but still. I didn’t actually ‘know’ them. Just their name and the realm it happened in….

She sighed. “They’re always in another realm. I can’t wait to leave this one.”

“Yeah? I do actually know someone that could help! She brought me to Bogarts, actually. Rael—”

A sharp clack on the chalkboard made me jump. I didn’t realize I had turned to look into her eyes, but there I was, getting lost in them.

The professor gave me a curt nod and continued on with the elbow joints of sprites and how they can help you get out of locked rooms.

“I meant in our fourth year when we can travel to other magic schools in different realms,” she whispered beside me. “But if you have a hook up….”

I risked a glance in her direction and was met with a mischievous smile. Her cheekbones were soft and cute but her canines were sharp. I smiled back and shrugged, trying to play nonchalant.

“Yarael,” she offered her hand.

I took it and noticed how soft her palms were. “Nice to meet you.”

The rest of the class went exceedingly fast. I learned nothing of bones and their magical uses and so much about how Yarael’s time at Bogarts had been. We confided in stealing some of the leftovers in the communal fridge in the tower (it is communal, after all), bonded over our love of freshly brewed espresso, nearly broke all ties over a disagreement on whether Taco Bell was good or not (it’s not, for the record), and laughed over our mixed bag of previous romantic partners.

The class ended as we were in the middle of a heated battle of which was better- food or sex. Then, the thought occurred to me.

“So,” I pressed my lips together, feeling the weight of my deal urging me forward. “You’re just…Not into sex at all?”

Yarael shrugged. “I like companionship. But when people talk about being sex obsessed, or the pleasures that they get out of having it, all I can relate that feeling to is when I have really good food.”

“And Taco Bell falls into that category?” I didn’t try to hide the mockery in my tone. Not one bit.

She leaned towards me and smirked. “It’s not my fault you have terrible taste.”

I laughed a bit too loudly and realized the professor had left with the class. His drawings of bones erased from the chalkboard. I started to stand.

“We should….Probably head to the next class…”

Yarael stood and started to walk towards the door. Suddenly, I felt like I was out of time.

“Hey!” I chased after her as she walked into the cemetery. “You know that, um, guy that tried talking to you before class?”

Yarael raised a suspicious eyebrow at me as we walked back to the main building. “Yeah?”

I pulled out his vial from my pocket. “Okay, look. I like you and I hope we can be friends. So I’m going to put everything out there. I need some help translating an ancient recipe for my first Apothecarie test. I’m scared I’ll fail it. So this third pin offered to help me translate it if I gave you this vial with his number on it. But…Something tells me it’s like an aphrodisiac or something. It’s gotta be.” I handed it to her, unsure if she would take it. “I don’t want you to hate me. I didn’t promise him you’d drink it. Just that I would give it to you.”

“Hm.” She plucked it out of my fingers and inspected the vial. We stopped walking. “A third year? In Linguistics?”

“Potential FAR member too. Just in case that changes your mind.”

“Well…” She opened the vial and sniffed the clear liquid. “It smells like cinnamon. Oranges. I’m curious.” Her eyes lit up. “Posion, maybe!” Her smile fell. “No….Bogarts would never allow it to exist on the property….” She shrugged again. “Maybe it is an aphrodisiac. I wonder what it would do to me.”

In an instant she drank the contents.

I gasped. “Wait!”

Yarael looked at the number written on the card. She took a pen out of her bookbag and wrote the number on her hand and handed the empty vial back to me. “I’d keep his number. You never know when a third year might come in handy. I’m keeping it in case I need him for something in the future.”

She started to walk again but stopped and turned to me when I didn’t follow.

“You….You just…” I shook my head. “You don’t feel any different?”

Yarael laughed. “When I said I had no sexual desire, I meant it. If it was an aphrodisiac, he wasted his time.”

I grinned and closed the distance between us. I felt bold, so I hooked my arm with hers as we walked. “But if I cook you a really good meal?”

She tipped her head back and hummmed. “Don’t tease me.”

“Well! Good thing I can’t cook to save my life. You’re safe with me.”

She rolled her dark eyes and we changed the subject to debating how performative Ansel’s trench coat was.

That night I found Ansel sitting in the study hall of the library with his nose buried deep in a large text book. I sat down in front of him and placed the empty vial on the table. I kept his number in a journal back in my room. Yarael was right. Having connections is smart.

He glanced at the empty vial and sighed dramatically.

“No call, huh?” I asked.

He shook his head like a child being told they wouldn’t have dessert. Silently he handed me a piece of paper. His handwriting was neat and clean.

I quickly looked over the recipe. I had definitely mistranslated some of the ingredients and some of the method. But one ingredient caught my eye.

Fresh Dragon Smoke- crushed and juiced- 2 oz

“What the heck does ‘fresh dragon smoke crushed and juiced’ even mean?”

Ansel shrugged. He turned a page in his text. “I just said I could translate it. Not understand it.”

I fisted my hands in my hair and groaned. “I’m dead. Cooked. Finished.” It was my turn to sigh dramatically. As I stood I looked at the top of Ansel’s melancholic, black head of hair and tapped it twice.

“Thanks, bud. Sorry you struck out.”

He pressed his forehead into the book. “What’s her name?” He mumbled into the pages.

“Yarael.”

He whispered it a few times before I left him to sit in his rejection.

*Countdown to inevitably failing test: 2 days.

Sitting in Criatuerie (magical beasts, creatures, familiars) listening to my professor ramble on about silkworms and how they evolve and change based on their realm when I really needed to be learning about how to crush and juice dragon smoke felt like a cosmic punishment.

I had read two books on dragons. Nothing. One book on the lore of dragons. Still nothing. I even asked my professor about bottling dragon smoke. She said I might have better luck in an Apothecarie course.

Well, duh.

But my Apothecarie professor was very clear. He would not help in any way. It was up to us to figure it out. But where the kids in my class actually playing by the rules? Doubtful. Maybe. I dunno.

If cosmic punishment was real and being delivered to me, then the Universe must have believed I had had enough. Because, as the class was nearing its end, the professor waved in a stocky looking guy to the front of the class.

He had the jawline of an alligator and a snout in similar shape. Orange and yellow scales peeked from underneath his tanned, leathery skin. His eyes were sharp, angled down towards his nose, and a bright yellow. He didn’t have any hair but he did have two brown horns on either side of his head. His shoulders were massive and his waist thick but strong-looking. Like he could bench press a castle.

“Class! Let me introduce Bri to you all! He is a fifth year from Waedul Prep. A magic academy exclusively for non humans for their first three years. Once you pass your third year at your home school, you may choose to venture out as an exchange student. Bri,” she beamed at him. “Tell the class about yourself!”

Bri snorted loudly through his nose and smoke rose from his nostrils. “I’m a Dragonborne. Which, to you baby first years, means I am a dragon with human qualities. I wanted to visit Bogarts because I’ve heard that the Mundane idolizes dragons and creates entire media and spiritualities around the idea of us. Thought it would be fun to stand out.”

The professor clapped her hands together. “And as part of Bri’s work study he was decided to help out our novice Criaturists! You will see him plenty in this classroom and with other first pins interested in magical creatures. I am planning on creating a syllabus focusing on dragons and having him lead. So stay tuned! That’s all for today! Let’s get Bri a really big welcome!”

The class clapped for a few minutes. I clapped the loudest.

I was salivating.

I still wasn’t entirely sure what a Dragonborne was but all I knew was that it had to do with dragons. Bri had to know the ingredient I needed!

When my classmates piled out of the room, I tried to keep my composure. Sure, his scales looked kinda scary, and his eyes had these black slits like a lizard or a dinosaur, but this had to be my chance. He was chatting with the professor. His voice was gravelly and scratchy. As if forming words was hard on his flexing throat. I told myself to stop staring but I also couldn’t help it. Besides. They weren’t looking my way.

“Miss Elida?” The professor called out. “Did you need something, dear?”

Professor Natacha was a sweet woman. Her brown hair was always frazzled. Her clothes wrinkled as if she had wrestled them just to put them on. And there always seemed to be some strange stain (God I hope it was dirt today) somewhere on her shirt. She loved bringing in creatures and throwing them in our faces. Sometimes literally throwing them.

But in this moment she looked at me like I was a poacher trying to take away the mother of her favorite phoenix for it’s feathers.

“I was…Kind of hoping to speak to Bri…” I twisted my wrists in my hands. Did they see me gawking? Was I one of those people that stare at things I don’t understand? Like when I dyed my hair blue and all the older men around me suddenly forgot how to blink?

Her face relaxed and she smiled almost proudly. “Oh you’re a curious one!” She turned to Bri. “See? I told you first pins—especially at Bogarts—will find you incredibly interesting! The kids at Bogarts have little magical interactions before coming here. So expect lots of questions!” She patted his shoulder. “If you don’t mind my leaving, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Bri nodded his head and smoke curled from his nose.

“Terrific! I have a litter of wampuses that need to be bottle fed. I’ll bring them to our next class together.” Professor Natacha hastily gathered her tote bag and ran out of the class. “You have forty five minutes!”

For some reason, I remained in my seat.

Bri turned his head to me and his eyes blinked sideways.

I may be out of my depth. I’m just a girl from the city. What do I know about talking to dragons?

“Um….” I looked at my desk. A dark walnut with my simple notebook and my favorite gel pen.

“Are you scared?” His voice was closer and it sent a shiver down my spine. I made the mistake of looking up and nearly bumped into his snout.

I flinched. “N-No! Not scared, really, just… I have a lot of questions and I’m scared I’m going to sound…” Stupid? Rude? “Not….Professional.”

His yellow eyes rolled and he shook his head. I wonder if his equilibrium is off with having such a large head. There’s no way I can ask that. 

“Just ask. I’m not easily offended.” He scratched his arm. Dry skin flaked off to reveal a budding scale underneath. “Thick skin.”

I laughed and then immediately stopped. “Was that a joke?”

Bri snorted. “Yes.”

I sighed heavily. “Okay fine.” I started with the most intimidating question. “Why does your voice sound like that?”

Bri blinked, probably surprised. “Does it…Sound strange to you?”

He didn’t know? “It just…Sounds like you have a bunch of rocks in your mouth. Like…” I cleared my throat and deepened my voice. Trying to make it sound like I had been punched in the throat. “It sounds kind of like this.” I cleared my throat again. “Man that hurt!”

Bri laughed deeply. He threw his head back and I saw two rows of extremely sharp teeth. A pink, forked tongue flicked out of the side as he laughed and held his belly. His voice boomed against the walls. When he pulled his head back he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Do I sound like that to you? No human has ever told me that!” He scratched his elbow and more dead skin flaked off. “Dragons don’t speak. They use telepathy and body language. But Dragonbornes can’t connect their minds to everyone like dragons can. We can use telepathy on other Dragons and Dragonbornes. So we have to learn to use speech for everyone else.” He touched his throat. “But it does hurt after a while. We drink lots of tea.” He smiled, revealing his large sharp teeth.

I felt my face pale.

“There’s something else…Really it’s a question for my studies…” I pulled out my Apothecarie notebook from my bag and slipped Ansel’s translation out. I showed it to Bri. “Any idea what fresh dragon smoke that can be juiced and crushed might be?”

Bri tilted his head and blinked sideways. My stomach flipped. He tapped his upper lip with a long claw. “Something comes to mind but…It’s back at my room.” He looked at the small clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes left till the next class. “Are you hungry?” His eyes met mine and suddenly I felt like I was on the menu.

“Um…I don’t think you have time…” Eating me would take longer than fifteen minutes. The cleanup alone would—

“Meet me for lunch tomorrow. After this class. I’ll bring what I think might help. No promises.” He scratched his arm again and growled.

“You…Good?” I asked a bit nervously.

“Scales live under our skin. When they’re ready to come out they make my skin dry and itchy. But if I pluck the scale I get these freckles I hate.” He turned his arm to show me the back of his elbow. Dark freckles clustered around a single spot.

I took the time to really examine his skin. Dry, for sure, but also inflamed from the scratching, hyper pigmented, and loose. He had the skin of a man that lived his entire life on the beach and never touched a drop of sunscreen. It gave me an idea.

“Well thank you, Bri. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I finally found the strength in my legs to stand.

Bri smiled but I didn’t find it as scary this time. “See you tomorrow!”

I walked out of the classroom and headed to the greenhouse. There were some herbs I had to collect before going to my Nocturne class. I wonder if Yarael would find Bri interesting. Or just his bones?

*Countdown to the Impending Test- 1 day

Part of me has already started imagining what having to leave Bogarts would feel and look like. It’s pessimistic, sure, but I’d rather be prepared for the worst and pleasantly surprised than blindsided.

I’m sitting in the dining hall which was sop heartbreakingly beautiful thinking about never seeing it again made me want to cry. Dramatic? Absolutely.

The room was large and open. Ten rows of long, community tables filled the center. Students were constantly getting up and sitting down. A game of edible musical chairs. They carried plates full of different types of food with them from the massive open kitchen at the far end of the hall. The kitchen was loud, lively, and full of aspiring students like myself trying their hands at recipes given to them by their professors. Maybe I’d be there one day. Maybe by tomorrow it wouldn’t matter.

The walls were adorned with gold carvings of cherubs and bundles of fruit. The ceiling was made of glass and the sun was directly overhead, casting delicate rays of light over the steaming food. It was a place you could sit in for hours and be entertained. The noise of people chattering around me was comforting. I laughed to myself at some of the snippets I could overhear. Two women debating whether cheating on your partner counts if the other person was technically deceased, a man telling a story about how one of the flying books in the library wouldn’t stop chasing him around, and even a professor gossiping about two students in her class that she swore would get together by the end of the school year.

I was so entranced by the medley of conversations that I didn’t notice Bri sit in front of me until he spoke.

“Did you enjoy the class?”

I jumped and came back to the present. “Wampus cats seem like they’ll become a handful. But they were cute as babies. Fur was strangely staticy though!” I twirled a lock of curly hair around my index finger. “The extra set of legs definitely threw me off.”

Bri grinned. One of his fangs caught on the edge of his bottom lip. “I could have eaten one if no one was looking.” He barked out a laugh at my shocked expression. “Now then!” He pulled out a cloth wrapped around a lunchbox. “Speaking of eating!” He unwrapped the cover and split the lunchbox into two parts.

Dragonsbornes knew about bentos?

I tilted my head.

From the bottom half, Bri took out a small red berry. It was slightly fuzzy and ribbed like a raspberry, but three times the size. He handed it to me with an open, scaled palm.

I leaned into the table, taking a closer look.

“A smyerie. From my realm. There isn’t a way to crystalize dragon smoke into something that can be ‘juiced and crushed’ but this berry is grown from the charred soil of Dragons. We tend to live under the earth itself. Our smoke from casually breathing soaks into the soil, creating this berry. It’s juicy but also very smoky. The closest thing that I could think of when I saw your recipe.”

I took it gingerly, not wanting to squeeze it too hard, and brought it to my nose for a smell. It smelled of ash and sweetness, with a bit of bitter at the end.

Bri handed me his bento which had a handful of the berries inside. “Not sure how many would be enough. You can have them all.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“I can send a letter back home for them to send more. It’s a common fruit. I won't be missing it.” He scratched the side of his neck roughly.

“Ah!” I reached into my own bag. “I have something for you too! As a thank you.” I placed an amber jar on the table between us. When Bri took it and unscrewed the lid, I started to explain. “It’s a body butter. I made it from the oils of a few herbs and flowers. Calendula, roses, violets, and gout kola! All have great skin healing properties for dry, itchy, inflamed skin.”

Bri pressed his fingers into the soft mixture.

“It also helps strengthen your skin too! So it won’t be so loose and tough after a while. It won’t happen overnight, of course, but if you use it daily it will help with the itching from the scales.” I felt a twinge of embarrassment when he swiped a good glob of it across his forearm. “Maybe even help reduce the pigmentation too.”

Bri suddenly looked at me with tears in his yellow eyes. I felt pinned to my chair.

“Thank you, Elida.” He continued to rub in the lotion. “This feels amazing already. I’ve never….” He shook his head and looked at me again with a heartbreaking expression. “This is really all for me?”

I opened my mouth but my throat was so dry words couldn’t form. “Has…” I cleared my throat. “Has no one ever given you a lotion before?”

He looked back at his forearm and rubbed his hand across his skin. “It’s soft,” he breathed. Smoke billowed from the sides of his mouth. “Soft!” He laughed shakily and dabbed his eye. “T-Thank you!” His smile was so large that his eyes squinted so tightly I thought they might have closed.

“Um…” I felt lost. This was such a simple thing for me to make. But, to Bri, it was like I had crafted something a god would use. “Yeah. Of course!” I felt tears coming to my own eyes for some reason. The craziness of it all. Here I was sitting in a dining hall listening to people chat about werewolves while making someone that was part Dragon cry out of happiness.

There was no way I could leave this place. I would stay up all night tonight until I got this potion right. This couldn’t be the end of my journey.

To stop myself from actually crying, I changed the subject. “So what else ya got in there? Anything I’d like?”

Bri laughed again. His voice bellowed through the air. “Not at all!” He opened the lid of the other half of the bento and the smell alone of rotten meat was enough to deter me.

Later that night, as the stars spied over my shoulder to track my progress, my cauldron simmered a gorgeous red liquid that smelled of smoked strawberries. Yarael walked into the kitchen as I did a happy dance. Clad in a black lace nightgown and a hair mask, she took a seat at the island and asked about what I was making.

“It’s actually a funny story…” I started as I picked up a ladle of the most beautiful potion I’d ever created.

So far, at least.