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My eyes slide open to the darkness of my room, just before dawn. Eight days have passed since Ryan unleashed the Servian information on me, and more changes have begun to show up, both during and between transformations: hair has begun to grow on my arms and legs thicker and longer, taking on the colour of the pigment on my skin; my nails begin to lengthen into claws; my eyesight grows sharper. My strength is rising steadily, and I'm having to work hard to keep it hidden; it's also much easier to grasp concepts in my classes.

Rax has also visited no less than a dozen times since his first a week and a half ago. He seems determined to take over my mentorship from Ryan, but Ryan's words echo hauntingly in my head: the largest criminal... I can't shake the feeling that if I go with Rax, I'll be twisted into some dark version of myself, bent on doing Rax's will. Of course, I could be doing the same right now with Ryan, but I trust Ryan's judgment more; if I'm going to be bent on doing someone's will, I'd rather it be Ryan's.

I shake my head and sit up, bed creaking. I don't feel as tired anymore, either, another change I have to account to the Servian in me. I get most of my homework done early, so I've been using the extra free time in the morning and afternoon to get out and meet people, see if I can pinpoint any of them as Servians. I haven't gotten to know many people, but I do make an attempt to greet those that set my spine tingling. Out of those that I've gotten to know, though, only one am I near certain of.

Alexis is her name. I met her at a small arcade place in one of the smaller suburbs just outside New Orleans. She's sturdier than she first appeared, and she's better than me at most of the games. She lets me win--sometimes--but it's easy enough for her to manhandle me at any of them. I've met up with her several times since, and learned that she's also quite the bookworm. Sometimes, while we're sitting around, she'll stop and watch me for a minute, though I'm not quite sure why. She's the one I'm headed off to meet now, actually, at a local coffee shop downtown.

I step out of my room a few moments later, twirling my car keys around a finger thoughtfully. The main room is still dark and empty, Ryan's door still shut. He's not awake yet. I allow myself a small smile as I slip across the room and out of the dorm, down into the parking lot. My car flashes at me as I start it remotely, uttering a whine of complaint before the engine roars to life.

The drive passes quickly, and my spine tingles as I pull into a parking spot, not uncomfortably. She's here. I smile and pop my door, stretching as I step out. I am...distinctly tall in New Orleans, which is both a blessing and a curse--yes, I can see over the heads of crowds, but I'm almost too easy to pick out, especially when I want to stay hidden.

In this case, though, it helps. The parking lot is full of a bustling, shouting crowd streaming toward the theatre. I shake my head with a smile and stand up straight. "Lestri!" I hear her call almost instantly, and I follow the voice to under the cemented hall ceiling. She's waving to me, standing on her toes to be seen over the crowd.

I make my way through the energetic crowd to her, almost having to shove people out of my way to get through. She greets me with a hug, which I return awkwardly--she's very attuned to physical gestures. "Hey." I glance at the crowd, a little anxiously. "Movie?"

Alexis nods. "New release. One of those weird action spy ones." She shrugs.

I smile and glance at the theatre again. "I don't know, maybe it's a good one."

"I never really enjoyed them," she says.

"There's better," I agree. "But we didn't come here to discuss movies, eh?" She smiles at me as I open the door to the coffee shop for her, then follow her in.

The sounds of the bustling parking lot fade as the door closes, giving way to soft acoustic music as the warm scents and colours of the coffeehouse surround us. I take a deep breath, relaxing as I listen to the music and murmured conversations. "I like this place for its atmosphere," Alexis explains softly. "Part of the reason why I suggested it."

I throw her a grateful and wry glance as we step up to the counter and order our drinks. By the time we're sitting down at one of the tables, I have a million questions racing through my mind, but most of them I can't broach without revealing my nature--and I'm not a hundred percent sure she's Servian too, yet. "What did you want to talk to me about?" I ask, allowing a bit of my accent to slip into my voice. I don't want it acting as a tell in case she surprises me; she has a habit of producing startling results.

"Straight to business, are ya?" Alexis asks with a smile. "How are ya?"

"Doing alright, I guess," I say, "all things considered." A shrug. "How about you, mate, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good," she says, then--with a smile--echoes, "all things considered."

I grin as well, taking a sip. "That's good." I set my drink down, then sit forward. "In response to your first question, I was direct because it was clear you had something on your mind."

Alexis smiles again. "You're pretty good at reading people, you know that?"

"I've had to get better over the past year," I say. After losing nearly everything because I couldn't.

"You're an interesting one, Lestri," she says over her cup after a moment. "However," she adds, taking a sip, "you are right. Do you know of someone named Rax?"

I glance down at the table, surprised. "I do, actually," I say, my accent shifting a bit deeper. "He goes to my school, mate."

"Stay away from him," Alexis says seriously, leaning forward. "He's a known troublemaker across town, and he's been known to convert others to his ways, too. Word has it, he's got a pretty large following. Don't let him cause too much trouble for y'all."

_Another nail in the wood. _"Yeah, one of my friends warned me about him," I say, too late biting my tongue.

"Who is this friend?" she asks.

I shake my head. "You wouldn't know him," I say. "He's a senior, two grades above you."

"Ah." Alexis purses her lips, appearing troubled. "Has Rax Shifted in front of you?"

A laugh escapes my lips. "He shifts all the time, mate," I say, playing dumb. "I swear the kid has ADHD or something."

"Oh, he's got much worse than that," Alexis mutters, as if to herself. "Hey, you have class soon, right?"

"Nah." I shake my head. "I don't have classes today until afternoon. I'm good to hang out, unless you have to run."

Alexis takes a long sip of her drink as she considers. "No," she says finally. "I've got time."

I smile and raise my drink in a mock toast, then take a sip. "What classes are you in?"

From there, the conversation takes on a lighter cast. Neither of us drops any hints that may clue the other in if we have secret identities, but the question about Rax convinced me Alexis is Servian...how else would she know about him? I don't bring it up, though, and eventually she rises to leave, pleading to be excused for classes. I rise politely with her, but sit again once she leaves, pondering what she told me.

She has to be Servian. The thought keeps circulating in my head. She can't have known about Rax otherwise; he's only a known criminal in the Servian world, though her excuse would have convinced someone who didn't know otherwise.

The quiet coffeehouse ambiance lulls me into a reflective state, and I almost overstay my welcome. Thankfully, though, my phone beeps at me, reminding me that I have class soon, and I stand and grab my bag. I'm not really sure why I brought it in. I tend to do that, though, especially with backpacks. I guess I just like to have them near me.

---

Quiet rain whispers against my dorm window as I relax on my bed. It's the next day, a Saturday, and I don't really feel like leaving the dorm. Maybe it's the rain. My guitar sits by the edge of my bed, reminding me of my commitment to play at the open mic night at one of the local taverns. I have a creepy feeling in my gut, though, one that says open mic night is going to be the least of my worries today, so I don't pick up the guitar to practice.

A series of quiet taps sound at my window, signalling someone outside. I stand with a sigh and a stretch, yawning a bit, then head over to the window, tossing back the drapes. As I expected, I see Rax's amethyst eyes peering through the window at me, warping in the rivulets of rain. Yet, unexpectedly, I see a sort of...pleading in them, and it takes me a moment to see the hulking form behind him. My eyes narrow in surprise, but--playing the part of a scared human--I scramble to my bed and yank my knife out from beneath my pillow (don't ask me how I smuggled contraband in--I won't tell). As I return to the window, I realize the tapping is Rax scrabbling at the window. As I continue to watch, the scrabbling seems to almost turn into outright struggling, and it strikes me that Rax might need help.

At that point, I don't care if it's Rax or Ryan or some random serial killer out to get me--I need to save him. My conscience can't let people die. I rush over to the window, unlatching it and throwing it open, yanking Rax inside. Whatever the figure is that's outside flees as soon as I pull Rax in, and I can assume that it doesn't want to be discovered. Rax coughs dryly and gags, so I take the time to close and relatch the window, confident he'll survive. Familiar sounding cracks _and _pops come from behind me, and I turn to find Rax finishing a Shift back to his human form. I hold my knife loosely in my left hand, ready to attack, defend, or even put it away.

"Thanks," he says hoarsely.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"An...enemy," he answers hesitantly.

"Fair enough," I reply. "Is it somebody I should be concerned about?"

"I doubt he'll attack you," Rax says, and I can hear the dry humour in his voice, "if he was attacking me."

"True," I say. "But the enemy of my enemy isn't always my friend." I flip my knife so the flat of the blade is pressed against my forearm.

"Anyway," he says, staggering to his feet. "I should probably go. Ryan won't like it much if he finds me here."

I nod. "I assume I'll see you later."

"More than likely," he replies. "Just curious--why _did _you save me?"

"I can't let someone die like that," I say quietly. "That's it."

"Well...thanks." He starts to walk out of my room. "See ya."

"Rax." He pauses at the door to my room, turning his head slightly to show he's listening. "Take care out there...the world is a dangerous place."

He turns fully to me, and though he doesn't smile--he never smiles--his eyes soften. "I will," he says. "And...thank you." He pauses, then says, "If you ever have need of me, simply say, 'Burn their houses, raze their streets, kill the Council in their seats' in the tongue of the ancients. I will come." Then he disappears, gone from my room. I don't even hear the dorm door close.

I tuck the knife back into its sheath beneath my pillow and sit thoughtfully. "You're welcome," I whisper to the empty room. What was that? I've never seen his eyes turn soft like that; they always have some hard edge in them, as if he's always angry. His tone, however, always says something. I wonder if he really does have a soft side underneath the criminal mask...

I ponder that for a few more moments, until I hear a soft knock at the door. "Lestri?"

"Ryan. Come on in," I say. The door creaks open, admitting, of course, Ryan. "What's up?"

"Hey." Ryan scrubs his hair, staring at the floor. "What's with the puddle of water?"

"Had an unexpected visitor," I reply.

"Fair enough," he says. "You alright? You haven't come out all day."

"I'm alright," I say, nodding. "I guess the rain has me a little down."

"Well, a couple of guys and I are going bowling, if you want to join us."

The suggestion is enough of a request that I smile at him. "Sure, why not?" I stand, then gamble on my instincts from his suggestion. "Might be good to start integrating myself, yeah?"

He chuckles. "You're too good at reading people."

"Nah, just at reading you, mate," I say, smiling wider. "Let's go."

Ryan bumps against me as we walk out, one of those animalistic gestures I'm coming to associate with Servians. He drives us to the bowling alley and introduces me to 'the guys'. There are only two of them, as opposed to the group I was expecting: Nick, tall, with flat brown hair, and Max, also tall, but larger than Nick with curly red hair.

The game starts, and it's blatantly obvious from the start that they're all far stronger than they should have been--even Ryan throws the ball disproportionately quickly to his 5'10" frame. I smile behind my ball as I step up to bowl the first frame--might as well show off, since they are. I lock my eyes on the third arrow from the left, an overcompensation for my spin, then begin the walk. As I step up, my shifting mind connects my arms and strides perfectly, up to the point where I release the ball. I wait and watch, holding the pose I threw from, watching the ball curve out left...then curve insanely back to the right and hit the lead pin just left of centre. All of the pins fly back into the catch--a strike.

"Damn!" Nick exclaims, leaping to his feet. "Nice throw!"

I smile, shyly. "Thanks, mate. My dad taught me."

"Was your dad in a league or something?" Max asks.

"When he was in college, yeah," I say. "He didn't teach me the spin, though; I had to learn to compensate for that on my own."

Nick chuckles. "You got a good arm--let's see if you can keep up!"

We all bowl the rest of the game extremely well--I win, with a total of eight strikes and only one of the rest that's not a spare. Ryan jogs off to buy us another game before our lane gets snatched up, and I flex my arm, surprised to find that it isn't sore. "Stiff?" Max asks, grinning.

I return the smile, still a little shy. "Not at all," I say. "Surprised myself."

"You throw pretty well for an eighteen-year-old," Max adds, as an afterthought.

"And you guys aren't within four years of me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Got me there," Max says, smiling still. "Still, that ball moves."

"I'm using a lighter weight."

"Even so."

I smile again and turn away, feeling my eyes Shift slightly before I clamp down on them--I spent so much of the past few days practising Shifting small parts of my body that they almost do it on their own now. Ryan returns a moment later, but slips away before he even spends a moment with us, probably to grab some food. "So, how did you guys meet?" I ask, turning back to Nick and Max.

"Hm? Oh," Max says, smiling slightly at his inattention--or to an inside joke. "I was friends with Ryan back in middle school, and ended up going to college and meeting up with him again down here. I met Nick here and introduced the two."

"What a beautiful story," I say, smiling as I lounge back. "If only it wasn't a cover-up."

"Cover-up? What do you mean?" Nick asks. "It's the truth."

I shake my head, still smiling. "I don't think so," I reply, toying with them a bit. "You may be cunning as a fox, Nick, but I can see through lies pretty easily."

"What lies?" Max asks testily.

"You guys are pretty good pretenders," I say after a moment, eyeing them. "If Ryan hadn't already spilled the beans, I would be convinced."

"Spilled the beans about what?" Max asks, leaning forward.

I smile, leaning forward to match his pose. "I guess I'm not Sherlock, then," I say, waiting a moment before Shifting my eyes--just briefly, just long enough for them to see it and freeze in surprise. "But I am still pretty good at catching liars, especially when I have background information."

They sit in stunned silence for a long minute. Then Nick starts laughing, quietly at first, but it quickly grows louder. "Oh, man!" he exclaims. "I never would have expected that! I guess it makes sense why Ryan brought you along, then."

"Nah," I say, lounging again, shaking my head with a smile. "I think he brought me because I was moping around in the dorm."

"How nice of him," Nick says, still grinning ear-to-ear.

"Nice indeed," Max agrees.

I notice the presence behind me as soon as it approaches. "Ryan, quit hovering over me like that. It gets creepy quick."

Max laughs, and Ryan playfully swats the back of my head as he joins us. "I assume from the smiles that there was an exchange of...information?" he asks, stressing the word 'information' to imply something much more important.

"Oh, yeah," Nick says. "Caught us both by surprise. Guy pretended to be Sherlock for a few minutes--scared me."

I chuckle and roll my eyes. "Yeah, had a whole thing about it," I say. "Their reactions were amazing."

"Hush, you," Nick says, then stands and grabs his ball to bowl. The next game goes smoothly, and we end up bowling two more games. Nick beats us all in both of them. Afterwards, we head out to a small local restaurant for lunch.

"So," Nick says as we settle at a table. Now that it's a little quieter, I can hear a hint of an accent in his voice. "What's your story? How'd you end up down here?"

"Long story short, I applied to two colleges here and one in Colorado," I say. "Though I got accepted into all of them, I wanted both of the ones down here, so I decided to come down here." I shrug. "Gives me a bit more autonomy, is the way I look at it."

"You sound like you were raised out here," Max says. "Your accent and such."

I arch an eyebrow. "Is that so, mate?"

"Maybe not, Max," Nick says, eyeing me. I squirm slightly, uncomfortable. "That's not Southern."

Now that I've slipped deeper into my own accent, I can identify the British in his. "Northern, or so I'm told," I say.

"A mix," Nick says definitively. "Irish, Northern. One other that I can't quite identify."

"That's not a Northern accent," Ryan says.

"British, mate," I say. "Northern British, mixed with Irish."

Max chuckles. "Could I have been more off?"

I shrug. "Could've said African." We all share a laugh. If this is what all Servians are like...I think I could get used to this. "Nick, you're British, too, yeah?"

"How'd you tell?" he asks, surprised.

"You have a hint of an accent," I say, pointing at him and smiling. "Barely audible, but it's there."

"Damn, this kid's good!" Nick says, chuckling. "I haven't been to Britain in years. Look out, Ryan, or this one might uncover your darkest secrets."

"Well, he hasn't yet, so..." Ryan trails off, grinning at me.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "That's only because I haven't tried, mate." Ryan laughs and ruffles my hair. Definitely can live with this. We dump our trays and head out to the car. Once we're in the privacy of the car, with all doors closed, I ask, "When did y'all Phase?"

"Sure you're not Southern?" Max teases.

"Pretty sure." I roll my eyes with a smile.

"I Phased about five years ago," Max says, in response to my original question.

"Newbie, eh?" I smile again at him.

"That's rich, from you!" he exclaims, laughing.

Nick glances at me from the front seat. "Almost two centuries."

I shake my head, smiling in disbelief. "I'm with two people who have lived over five times as long as I have."

"That means you have better mentorship than with only one of a younger mentor," Nick says, grinning.

"True enough," I reply. "I bet I'll get the hang of things pretty quickly with you two around." It takes me a moment to notice my internal clock and curse, loudly.

Ryan almost swerves off the road. "What! What is it, Lestri?"

I press my fingers to my temple, eyes wide as I glance at the sky outside. "How far is Pop's and Ma's from where we are right now?"

"We're about as far from it as we can be right now," Nick says, watching me with concern. "It's about five hours, give or take a quarter hour for rush hour traffic. Why, Lestri, why?"

"Go, now," I say, gritting my teeth. "If we hurry, we might be able to make it in time." _Five hours, twenty-three minutes. _"Bloody hell. When are you guys reading the next full moon?"

"I'm getting five days," Max says. Ryan and Nick nod in agreement.

"Well, we've got about five hours and twenty minutes," I say, "if I'm reading my own clock correctly."

Ryan is the one to swear this time as he yanks on the wheel, turning us in a full one-eighty. "This has never happened before," he says tersely, glancing briefly at me in the rearview mirror as he steps on the gas. "Lestri, are you feeling sick at all? Wooziness, nausea, anything?"

"Will somebody fill me in? What's going on right now?" Max demands.

"Yeah, mate," I reply to Ryan, as if Max hadn't said anything. As he spoke, I felt each of the symptoms he named come on. "I'm feeling terrible. Everything you'd associate with the flu."

"Max, he's going to have a premature Phase," Nick answers Max. Max gasps.

"Dammit!" Ryan curses again. I can almost see his thoughts before he speaks them: "Could humans have something to do with this?"

"I thought humans didn't know about us!" Max protests.

"Most don't," Ryan says grimly, weaving through traffic on the back roads, avoiding the even more crowded interstates and highways. "Some, like the government officials and high-ranking scientists, do."

Max hisses through his teeth. "Then don't you think this will be a trap?"

"It very well could be," Ryan says. "But if all else fails, this car is modded far beyond legality, so we could feasibly escape and have Lestri Phase somewhere out of town."

"Dangerous," Nick notes.

"Our only other option," Ryan counters.

He and Nick exchange wild smiles as Ryan accelerates. My symptoms only worsen as time progresses, and by the time we arrive at Pop's and Ma's with less than a half hour left, I can hardly walk. Ryan and Nick have to almost carry me up the steps to the storefront, then awkwardly slip me inside. Faces blur in my vision, but I can tell by the shift in colours that they transported me to a back room, or perhaps the basement. Soundproofing material covers the walls; I get the feeling that I'm soon going to find out why.

They stretch me out on a bed, and I dimly hear someone say, "Fifteen minutes until it starts, Lestri. Stay strong." Ryan.

I groan and try to turn, but several hands hold me in place. "It hurts, mate. It hurts."

"I know, Lestri, but it'll be over before you know it," Ryan says. Famous last words, I think, but the amusement is somewhat lacking.

My teeth grind against each other, against my will, and I squeeze my eyes shut as a spasm wracks my body. Unable to speak words, I determine to make it through this fully conscious, though the warm folds of unconsciousness tempt me to pass out and escape the pain. One of them holds a needle to my arm, and I weakly bat it away. "No...anesthetic," I manage to say.

"Lestri..." Nick's voice worms its way through the fog. Before I can say anything, convulsions begin to violently take over my body in waves. "Hold him down!" Nick shouts.

Hands grab my limbs, holding me still as my muscles fight the restraint. However, the combined strength of the two strangers and my three friends is enough to overcome my flailing, and the convulsions turn to shivers. I lose all sense of time, but Ryan intermittently calls out updates. Right when he hits zero, everything vanishes. The pain, the convulsions, the flu-like symptoms, everything. I flop back down onto the bed in relief, panting--

And skull-splitting agony.

Searing, flaming pain knifes through my skull, and I resist the scream that bubbles in my chest. The sensation slowly trickles down my neck onto my torso, and my muscles seize up, locking as the pain touches them. The agony spreads into my chest, and the muscles around my lungs cramp, forcing out the scream; it rips out of my throat, so loud that my vocal cords give out. That pain, however, is lost in the blazing agony, which quickly explodes out to the rest of my body. Time ceases, and pain becomes my only reality.

My friend...

My enemy...

My life...

My death...

My heaven...

My hell...

It stops.

The lack of sensation is so absolute, so unexpected, that, for a moment, I flounder for lucidity and identity. Then I gasp and feel my heart thud, more powerfully than ever before, and a wave of sensation floods my senses, so intense that it hurts my head.

I can hear the squeaking of a nearby mouse.

I can feel the fibers of the bedsheets beneath me.

I can taste the blood from my vocal cords.

I can see the individual grains of the wood ceiling above me.

And most of all, I can smell. The dank odour of sweat, the musky, mildewy basement air, and the fear emanating from those around me.

The fear.

"Ryan," I croak, so quietly it must be inaudible, yet I still continue. "Ryan, I'm alive."

I hear something--a sigh of relief--followed by a joyous exclamation: "He did it!"

I flinch at the volume of the sound, then groan and slowly rise to a sitting position. My fingers reach up to my temple as I mentally wall off some of the sensory overload--it's giving me a headache. "Water," I very nearly whisper. "Someone get me water." I squeeze my eyes shut. It helps alleviate the headache.

Someone passes me a glass of water, and I take it from them. Then I lift it to my lips--only to slam it against my chin. I yip in surprise as someone laughs, then guides my hand forward several inches and helps me drink. My headache slowly begins to clear, and I feel more comfortable. "Remember, Lestri--you've Phased now."

"I've Phased..." I smile unexpectedly, and I remember suddenly why I'm here. "How do I look?"

"Like you've been through the most intense experience of your life," Nick says. I can almost instantly identify his voice just based off of the tone and pitch.

"That colouring...I've never seen it before." Ryan's voice sounds like he's lost in thought.

"What does that mean?" I ask, slowly cracking my eyes open; however, the dim light still proves too bright, and I snap them shut again.

"Everyone's specific colouring and colour pattern, along with their species, are genetically inherited from their parents," Max says. "It's how we identify bloodlines."

"Each House has a different pattern," I say, nodding as I follow his thought process.

"How'd you know that term?" Ryan asks suddenly, jumping in on the conversation again, as if he'd intended to stay out.

"Hm? House?" I glance in the direction of his voice, keeping my eyes closed. "That first day, when I spoke with Rax. He asked which House I was from. I didn't understand at the time; I guess it doesn't really matter if I did or not, since we don't know."

"Rax..." Nick mutters. "It's been a long time since I've heard that name... Is he recruiting again?"

"He tried to get me," I reply. "I don't know what it means, but Ryan thinks he's up to no good."

"Oh, man," Nick sighs. I hear the anger in his voice; I can feel Max itching for a fight to my left.

"Lestri," Ryan says. "Can you open your eyes?"

I slit them open the tiniest bit, just enough to let in light, but not far enough that I can see clear images. "Barely."

"Keep them as open as possible," Nick advises. "It'll help them adjust better."

"What happened when you Phased," Ryan says, "is your body fully allowed it's Servian nature to push through. Because Servians' senses are so incredibly heightened, it often comes with a measure of pain and mental overload. However, we don't know exactly why Phasing for the first time hurts so much; there are some theories, but most of them are inconclusive."

I use the direction of his voice to direct another sightless stare at him. "I think I understood...about half of that."

"Did I not tell you?" I hear the apologetic smile in his voice.

I sigh and lay back down. "What am I?"

"Open your eyes and see, Lestri," Nick says.

"Too sensitive."

"Trust me," Nick says quietly.

To my surprise, I do trust him--never have I trusted somebody this quickly. I slide my eyes cautiously open again and gasp. I can see everything, every minute detail, from the distinct and yet nearly invisible fluctuations of colour in the wood, to each thread in the blanket beneath me to each individual hair of fur covering my body.

Fur?

I lift my hand up, only to see, not a hand, but rather a humanlike representation of an animal paw--my palm and the inside of my digits are covered in rough skin-like material, and the back is coated with white fur. Paws, then. Short claws have replaced my fingernails, razor-sharp and non-retractable. So I'm not a feline.

It takes me a minute to realize my hair has grown out and now covers my left eye--or, it should. I can see through it as if it were invisible. Wait, hair? I sigh and chuckle at the same time, running a hand--paw--along my muzzle. "Muzzle...jeez," I mutter, then lift my voice. "I have a lot to get accustomed to."

"That's what it feels like," Nick agrees. "But your body knows how to do everything--all you really need to do is to learn your limits...and your magic."

"My magic?" I ask, closing my eyes again as I cross my legs, sitting Indian style as I focus on my hearing. It sharpens as I do, to the point where I can hear the breathing of everybody in the room.

"Your magic," Nick repeats. "Each Servian House specializes in one specific--and very rarely, two or three--types of magic, and can use what are called the Common magics. Four or five is heard of, but exceedingly rare, and six, never. My House, for example, specializes in a type of fire magic."

"What Nick is trying to say," Ryan expands, sounding amused, "is that whichever magic your House specializes in will either be slightly easier to use, or it will be a type of magic that only your House can use."

"What House are you in, Nick?" I ask.

"House Jekal," he replies. I think I hear a bit of shame in his voice, but I don't press it.

Instead, I ask Ryan, "So you thought my House was the same as yours?"

"No," he says, sounding more troubled now. "We traced your family all the way back to just before the Fall--capital F, for the fall of our race--when all of the Houses were still around, and found...nothing. Jack squat, no Servian blood in your lineage."

"No Servian blood, huh?" Max seems to be thinking out loud. "Then you would indeed be an anomaly...even more so than Phasing before your full moon."

"Regardless, you will find your place here, Lestri." Ryan's voice gains a confident edge, as if he's trying to bolster my own confidence.

I turn toward him again, opening my eyes and gazing at him out of the right corner of my eye. "Oh, I know."

The lynx takes a step back, appearing shocked. "That eye..." he whispers. I almost had forgotten that my left eye is covered. "I've never seen one that's...so strikingly gold. It reminds me of..." He trails off, staring wide-eyed at me.

"Ryan?" Max asks from behind me. "What's up?"

Ryan looks like he's barely breathing; however, he manages to regain some of his composure, enough to speak. "N-nothing. It's just...i-it surprised me, is all," he stammers, leaning against a small table next to the bed for support.

A creature with blued skin and stark white hair steps up to Ryan from my left. It looks like it has some sort of...metal engraved into its body. "Ryan, seriously. You good?" That's Max.

"Yeah, I'll..." Ryan raises a hand--paw--to his head. "I'll be alright. It's just...that intensity reminds me of my little brother, Chase. His eyes had the same striking intensity." I lower my gaze, staring at the bedsheets as guilt grows in my chest. "I need some time," Ryan says quietly, after a moment. I hear his footsteps ascend the stairs.

"He'll be alright, Lestri," Nick says. I turn to find an all-black fox smiling at me, shining white at the tip of his tail, a white star on his right hand...paw.

"I hope so." Then I realize he's only wearing jeans and do an old-fashioned double-take. "Why are you shirtless?"

He smiles again, apologetically this time. "Shifting shreds shirts...alliteration. Nice. Anyway, it completely rips shirts to shreds, but for some reason, most pants--except for tight-fitting jeans--are fine." He pauses, then holds up the shirt that I was wearing earlier. "We took the liberty of saving this. Hope you don't mind."

I take it from him, smiling. "No worries. Thanks." I've always considered myself a modest person, and I'm proud that I'm able to keep the flush off my cheeks.

Max and Nick lean against the wall in front of me, both smiling slightly. "This is your official welcome to the Servian nation, Lestri," Nick says.