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I wake to the warm light of the morning sun. I can't tell what time it is from the intensity of the light, but I'm disappointed that I woke up past sunrise. At least it happened on Sunday, though, and not a school day. I stretch, yawning, pulling my tail out from my arms and arching it stiffly along with the rest of my body as I stretch, then relaxing everything. Wait. I glance down at my body, waving my tail in front of my face. This isn't my dorm room. It takes me another minute to realize what else is wrong, not to mention how I got where I am.

That's when the memories of yesterday and last night come crashing down on me. My nerves tingle with the memory of the pain, and my hackles raise: the quick glance at my body just now assured me it wasn't just a dream. I slip out of my bed, bare hindpaws slapping quietly on the ground. I jerk my tail sideways as I nearly topple the other direction, surprising myself. I didn't know that tails were so critical to balance for animals, and once again, I find myself marvelling at the complexity and the massive amount of power this body--my body--contains.

I try to blink myself awake as I stumble over to my closet, pulling on a shirt, despite what Nick said about Shifting ruining shirts--and that it implied that at least male Servians go bare-chested--it feels awkward still to go out showing so much...well, fur. That taken care of, I duck into the bathroom alcove and clean up, making myself at least presentable. My tail poofs as I splash my face with cold, clean water, trying to wake myself up. It doesn't help much, and I flatten my ears to my skull in irritation. After a moment, I sigh and shrug, making my way out to the hallway.

Though it's long, there thankfully aren't any turns in it; however, I take more time along the way to examine the walls and ceiling. The ceiling of this hallway is more utilitarian, flat, with the lights set into it a few inches. The walls make up for it, though--there are intricate designs carved into the unfamiliar, brilliantly colourful stone, designs so complex that even my Servian eyes can't make out the image. Every time I think I have one, I notice some detail that shatters the image I thought I had. I chuckle in awe, turning and continuing down the hallway. I notice the sky outside through the skylights in the circular room's ceiling, shining a brilliant blue. So Max hadn't lied. Then I'm at the stairs and heading down into the room.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Nick greets.

I glance over the bannister to where he and the others are lounging, sprawled out on the couches in the pit area. "Morning," I say, trying not to mumble. I'm surprised that saying it doesn't give me the urge to yawn. "What time is it? I'm still feeling muddled."

"Not a minute past eleven," Ryan says.

"So eleven o'clock," I say, rolling my eyes at his overly intricate wording. "Been forever since I've woken up this late."

Nick smiles. "That's why I said we'll be waiting," he says.

I chuckle, descending the rest of the stairs and striding out into the main room with them. "Did I miss breakfast?"

"Lunch--well, brunch--is in the oven," Ryan says. "I think we all took advantage of your tiredness to sleep in."

"Well, thanks and you're welcome, then." I settle into the open cushion next to Ryan, sighing softly. After a short, awkward silence, I ask, "So...what's next?"

Ryan sighs and leans back. "Magic," he says. "Since you Phased at an awkward time, I'm not sure there's much we can do until after the full moon."

"First, though," Nick says, leaning forward with the glint of curiosity in his eye, "I'd like to see that eye that you mentioned yesterday."

"I would, as well," Max admits, leaning forward as well.

I hesitate, a little awkward under the pressure, before saying, "Sure." I reach up and brush the film of disguising hair aside, displaying the unnatural eye, then watch for their reactions. Max gasps and leans forward more, edging off the couch for a better look, while Ryan flinches back, staring, as soon as he sees it. However, I'm not expecting Nick's reaction: he frowns intensely as if thinking, then slowly sits back. "What's going through that head of yours, Nick?" I ask.

"I'm not thinking," he says, slowly. "I'd say I'm more shocked than the other two; that magic is old, older than recorded history, and has been considered one of the Lost Arts since the Fall. No one could activate the magic, much less have it permanently in their eye, since then...well, until you, of course."

I blink, surprised, and sit back. Ryan leans forward. "How is it that you know of this, Nick, and I don't?" he asks.

Nick smiles. "Because it never came up in our conversations; calm down," he says gently. "I specialize in learning about the Lost Arts, while you only know what you hear in rumours. Most of the commonly known ones are considered Lesser Magics."

"And this is a Greater Magic?" Ryan asks.

"Not even that," Nick says. "It's a House magic, a Royal House magic, and in many places, it was forbidden...of course, now that this House no longer exists to public knowledge, that law is no longer needed."

"Wait, why was it forbidden?" Max asks.

"Because, like my telepathy magic, it's extraordinarily powerful magic," Nick explains, staring at me as he smiles slowly. "Exclusive to one Royal House."

"So we were right," Ryan says. "He is royalty."

"You didn't let me finish," Nick says. "While it is possible that he inherited it through blood, I think it more likely this was pure chance; it's the only aspect of that House he inherited, if it was by blood, except maybe for the black fur."

"Which House?" I demand, jumping into the conversation again.

"One of the highest of the high," Nick says. His smile has spread to a wide grin. "House Mekin. That eye is the Mastigyn."

Ryan makes a choking sound, wide-eyed as his gaze flicks back over to me, and it seems to take him monumental effort to breathe again. Max stares, and the metal on his body seems to vibrate slightly. Ryan's ears tuck back flat against his skull, either in respect or fear, and I suspect that if Max had more animalistic ears, they'd be doing the same thing. Nick's ears fold flat against his skull, and I realize it must be a sign of respect.

Ryan is the first to recover enough to speak. "You mean the second-most powerful House at the Fall?"

"And for a long time before the Fall," Nick adds. "Yes, I mean that House. I doubt your heritage is pure, due to the drastic shift in colour, and it's possible you're not at all related to them, but I think it's more likely you are. And for anyone to have been able to breed with House Mekin...You're full-blooded royalty, Lestri, and high-ranking royalty to boot. Now we'll just have to figure out your other House." His ears fold flatter, if possible, and he bows his head slightly. Ryan tucks his tail, which must be an extended measure to ducking the head and folding the ears. Max folds nearly in half with a bow.

I tuck my tail, hugging it to my chest as if to hide as the news hits me. I stare wide-eyed at them, bowed in signs of respect--Nick's the only one who's upright enough to have eyes on me. He must be rather high-ranking royalty, too, I think. "Wh-what does this mean?" I stammer, ashamed and frustrated by how much my voice shakes. Some royalty.

"Unfortunately, it means a lot," Nick says gently, as if sensing my fear. "Royal blood still holds massive sway in today's world, and the amount that you have, as well as the prestige behind it, could mean that people will bow to you on the streets, more so than even the three of us. It could also earn you a spot on the Council, the ruling body of the Servian nation today, without even a vote." Of course, nobody will force it on you if you don't want it, he adds mentally.

I break out in a cold sweat, but take a few deep, calming breaths before responding. "Could the Council already know about this?" I ask, glad that I seem to have regained a bit of control over my voice.

"Likely," Nick says. "They tend to know things before even we do. Maybe they have a way to track your bloodline that we don't."

I sigh again, relaxing a bit, but still hiding in my tail. It's pretty good for that. "Well, that's great," I say sarcastically. "Thrust into an unknown world, and I could be a ruler before I'm even fully educated on what the hell I am!" I chuckle weakly.

Ryan joins me in the chuckle, coming up from his bow. "We'll be here to support you the whole way," he says. Nick nods in agreement.

I relax more, smiling softly. "Thank you." Really.

"Oh, Ryan, speaking of magic," Max says, withdrawing something from his pocket. "I've been meaning to ask you about this." He tosses it to Ryan. "Any idea what it is?"

Ryan examines it for a minute, turning it over in his paws and peering at it. "No," he says, lifting his eyes. "I have no clue."

I lift a paw, fingers splayed, simply following instinct, and--to the surprise of both myself and the others--the object leaps into my paw. Well, more like flies into my paw. As soon as it smacks into my palm, I close my fingers around it, then open them again and look at it myself. It appears to be some sort of bluish key, with a gracefully carved lion mane on the butt end. "Lion mane," I mutter to myself, turning it over in my palm as I think.

"The hell was that, Lestri?" Ryan exclaims. I ignore him as my mind feels like it's being pulled centuries into the past. "Lestri."

The key spins more rapidly in my paw as I sit forward. "A Gate Key!" I exclaim finally. "It's a Gate Key!"

Ryan flinches back, blinking. Nick leans forward, intrigued--after startling at my exclamation, of course. "A Gate Key?" he asks.

"I..." I frown. "I don't know. It just came to me."

"Another Lost Art," Nick murmurs. "One that I don't know about...oh, man." I see the light of passion in his eyes.

"I get the feeling it was a well-guarded secret," I say quietly. "A very, very powerful form of magic..." I slip the key into my pocket, filing it away for later.

"If you find out anything more, will you let me know?" Nick asks.

"Yeah, if it doesn't feel too...traitorous to my..." I trail off, sniffing the air.

"Is something burning?" Ryan asks, sitting up with a jolt.

"Maybe in another half hour, but no," I say, slowly standing up as I flick my gaze about the room, searching both with my normal eye and my magical one--the Mastigyn, Nick called it. After a brief glance, I spot the tiniest sliver of a furry shoulder poking out from behind the hall I noticed yesterday, on the left now of the television. A kitchen knife lays on the table before me. That wasn't there before. Is this some sort of trick? "That's not it," I say, playing along until I'm sure. In one fluid motion, I pick up the knife and hurl it at the intruder. It nicks off a few hairs from the shoulder and impales itself in the wall just beyond the lurker.

"What the hell was that, Lestri?" Ryan cries, for the second time today. I ignore him again, holding my position--right leg forward, left arm extended down across my torso, right arm out behind me for balance--and wait.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the shape moves, and a voice comes from that side of the room. "Very good, Lestri." It pauses, then adds, "That was either very lucky or very skilled."

I finally move and assume a more relaxed standing position. "I had plenty of practice on still targets a year ago, Rax," I say, the name coming out as nearly a growl. He's fake; don't get too worked up. I'm almost certain that this is some sort of illusion by this point--the knife has already disappeared. "However, I know you better than to think you'd let yourself get caught that easily." As I speak, I turn in a slow circle, until I spot a shadow in the hall at the second landing of the stairs--an easy mistake, but not one he'd expect me to notice. He did it intentionally, after I figured out that the figure in the far hall was fake.

"You should join me," Rax's voice says, the honeyed smoothness grating on my nerves.

"You know my response," I reply. My ears catch the sound of an arm whipping through the air, and I spin to see a dagger flying at me. In that split second, logic says I have two options: take the hit, or let it impale Ryan, who's sitting in the knife's direct path. However, the Mastigyn suggests a third, and that instinct overpowers my logic. I lean just a fraction of an inch to my right, sliding my right foot sideways; the simple movements take me out of the path of the dagger. Then, as it whizzes by my left ear, I flick my left paw up and catch it by the hilt. The dagger settles comfortably into my paw, but I drop it, shaking my head. "Rax, fight me face-to-face if you're going to fight me; don't throw daggers from the shadows." I'm surprised at how resigned my voice sounds. I don't want to fight. "And don't attack my friends--you should know that's out of the question."

"Perhaps," Rax's voice replies, "but are you hardhearted enough to make me pay for it?"

"Fist-to-fist, maybe," I repeat. "Don't be a coward, Rax; we both know you've been itching to fight me since we first met."

A cloaked figure leaps suddenly over the bannister, landing lightly with its knees bent. "So have it your way," Rax says from beneath the cowl. "I have years of hand-to-hand combat experience. I can't promise you'll come out of this unscathed."

"You don't have to," I half-growl, getting worked up despite my own cautions.

"Lestri, don't!" Ryan yells.

I ignore him for the third time today. Rax and I square off, him crouched, me in a relaxed stance. For a few silent heartbeats we stare, motionless. The first one to move gives away his advantage. I narrow my eyes as he tenses. Then he leaps into action, moving so fast that he becomes a blur to my eyes. Yet--somehow--I can track him.

It seems obvious to me where he's going to strike: first a hook at my left side, then a jab straight to my face. I only have a split-second of warning for each one, though, and I barely get my arms into place to block in time. Yet I do block both, without moving a single hindpaw. "Still confident?" I whisper, while we're still locked together.

Rax leaps away, then charges again. This time, however, he circles to my left at the last second, doubtless to try and strike from my blind spot--my hair covers my left eye. Again, though, I easily read his movements, sliding my left foot in a quarter circle as I block each one of his blows. Dozens of smacks ring through the room, but not a single one hits my body. It must be the Mastigyn, somehow; some sort of prediction magic.

After the furious barrage, Rax once again leaps back. "How are you doing this? You should be down already!" he growls.

"The Mastigyn," Nick whispers, awed. "Lestri, uncover it!"

I lift a paw and lift my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Something switches, and it locks in place instead of falling back over my eye. "Th-the Mastigyn?" Rax stammers. "But--but that's a Lost Art! It died with House Mekin!"

"So you know of it," I say, smiling widely. "The Heir of Mekin lives on, Rax. I am the heir." Then I leap at him.

He has time for two defensive attacks to try and stop me. He lashes out with both, flailing a bit to try and stop me, but I block one, then step inside the other. Before he can recover from his final attack, I punch him in the gut, then, when he doubles over, yank my knee up and smash it into his muzzle. His head snaps back with a sickening crack!, and he collapses backward onto the floor. Thankfully, it was his muzzle that broke and not his neck. I crouch by his head, waiting for him to come out of his dazed state.

It doesn't take very long. "Why didn't you kill me?" Rax croaks, coughing weakly.

I've already told him that, I realize. "I told you, I can't let anyone die," I say quietly. "It's not possible. But I can't say the same for them," I add, jerking my head toward the others staring from the couches. "So don't let them catch you here again." He nods, struggling to his feet. "Scram!"

Rax flinches and scurries away. As the front door slams shut, I feel Ryan grab my shoulder and spin me around. "Why didn't you kill him!" he shouts in my face.

"Who needs to watch their temper again?" I ask coldly. When he freezes--in rage or shock, I can't tell--I brush off his paw and duck around him. "Besides," I add, in a warmer tone, "I can't kill. My conscience won't let me."

"One day, you may need to," Nick says quietly.

I sit down, then turn my focus to him. "Then let's hope I'm ready when that day comes."

He freezes under the glare of my Mastigyn, and I hide it with a quick shake of my head, sending my hair down over it. He fears me. The thought brings a perverse sense of satisfaction, as well as another thought: As he well should. I shake the unwelcome thought out of my head.

Nick shifts a brief second later. "That was...amazing, honestly," he admits. "Far better fighting than I expected."

I smile. "Thanks." I glance at Ryan as he sits down. "Was that sufficient?"

"Save for the 'not killing' part, yes," he says.

"So I passed."

"... Yes."

I close my eyes as I feel a shift, then open them again. Ryan's frowning at me, while Nick stares expressionlessly. Max is wide-eyed with surprise. "So that's never happened before, then?" I ask Ryan.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Never."

"And what makes it doubly surprising," I add, "is that it appears to be a speciality of your House."

Ryan nods. "Illusion magic is House Nefir's primary weapon," he says. "That you could see through it..."

A moment of silence breaks the conversation. "It's the Mastigyn," I say eventually.

"What?" Ryan asks, startled.

"It's the Mastigyn," I repeat. "It can see through any type of Illusion magic...which is why I know that Nick's avoidance of eye contact is Ryan meddling. And the flower vase on the table in front of me is fake." I pause and glance up, looking around the room again. "No, the vase is real. It's just moved; the coffee table itself is fake."

"Very good." I glance at Nick as he speaks. "But how did you know to try to look through the original illusion? The Mastigyn's user has to know they're being deceived before they can break through the illusion."

I smile and close my eyes, leaning back into the couch. "The knife."

"The knife?" Ryan asks.

"The knife," I repeat, nodding. "The one you provided me with on the coffee table. I wasn't sure about the table itself, but I was pretty sure that the knife wasn't there before. Either way, why would a kitchen knife be randomly sitting on the table? You're too organized to leave out a knife after a meal, Ryan, and I doubt you'd even take one out of the kitchen." I shrug. "Plus, it disappeared as I began to turn to search for Rax...speaking of, Rax was cloaked the entire time, as if afraid of showing himself. That likely meant the illusion master didn't know how he'd changed, so he was afraid of showing an old version of Rax. Plus, I've already told Rax before that I can't kill someone, not in good conscience. Even for revenge. A criminal like him would've known that it's easier to get inside the mind of your prey if they're surprised, yet he reacted exactly how I expected him to react; that was pretty sloppy, Ryan. You drew too much on my own knowledge."

"Are you a detective?" Nick asks, as Ryan frowns. "I swear, this kid..."

We share a laugh. I open my eyes and sniff the air. "Okay, I genuinely can't tell: is the food done, or is Ryan messing with me again?"

Ryan curses and scrambles into the kitchen, followed by laughter from the rest of us. Nick glances at me, nodding. If you think you're in an illusion and I'm there, try to touch my mind; illusion masters, even the best, can't replicate the feel of someone's mind.

Okay, now I really owe you one, I say. This is, what, five times that I've thanked you in less than a day?

If you insist, Nick says, amused. I'm not going to force a debt on you.

It would look bad. The unsaid portion reminds me of my elevated status, and my heart kicks it up a notch. However, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and I soon distract myself from my thoughts. Ryan cooked the food well, and we pause the conversation to eat, picking it up again afterward.

The next few hours pass in a similar fashion as we hang out, laugh, and get to know each other. I've never felt so relaxed in a group like this before; it's refreshing to be able to spend time with others and not feel the constant itch of distrust.

"So," I say to Ryan, after a long pause. "You're going to teach me magic?"

"Yes," Ryan says, sitting forward. "Well...I might have to pass it off to Nick. Traditionally, I would put you through a series of physical tests that get increasingly difficult, until they're impossible, at which point you'd get frustrated enough to instinctively use magic. However, these are far from normal times. We don't have enough time to put you through the tests if the Council is trying to get its paws on you."

"And the humans and their suspected hand in this..." I add, trailing off.

Ryan nods. "Unfortunately, I have no clue how to snap the barrier between you and magic without those tests," he admits. "So, as far as training goes, I'll have to pass you off to Nick, until that barrier gets snapped; he has more experience with this than I do."

Nick smiles. "You're overestimating the difficulty," Nick says to Ryan. "The barrier is already weakened--that's blatant from the Mastigyn. It just needs a little push in the right direction." He turns his gaze to me, and all humour vanishes from his expression. "Have you ever practised Aki-Do, or something of the like?"

"Not often, but yes," I say. "A few times."

"That will be good enough, for now," he says. "I'm going to throw a magical attack at you; I want you to try to deflect it using what you have." I nod silently, standing and bending my knees slightly.

"Proof!" Ryan calls. I feel another slight shift in the house. "You don't need to worry about damaging the house now."

Nick nods, backing about five meters away from me. Then, without warning, he lunges forward, slicing his paw up from his waist until it reaches chest level. There's a whoosh, and I can see some sort of disturbance racing toward me, like a curved blade of air. I sink lower, then press my palms out toward it. As it races closer, I draw my right foot in an arc behind me, turning with it as the blade of air hits my paws. I continue turning, even as a jolt runs up my arms, then whip my arms around in a circle. I'm once again facing Nick, right leg out behind me, arms thrown across my body.

What I didn't notice--or expect, really--is that, in addition to simply channelling the magic energy, I instinctively threw it back at Nick. He leaps out of the way, hitting the ground with a grunt and rolling before popping back up to his feet. I straighten as he does. "Sorry about that," I say, scratching my head. "My instincts know how to fight better than I do."

"Your instincts don't know the first thing about how to fight with magic, nor do you," Nick says, taking a few steps closer to me so he doesn't have to raise his voice. "You hardly even know what magic is."

"Then explain it to me," I challenge.

Anger flashes in Nick's eyes, and he growls something to himself before returning his attention to me. "Magic, as you know, is simply energy from your body released with a direction to do something," he says. "However, that energy can be expelled in many ways. There are several that anyone can use; Martial magic, like what I just used, is one. It relies on the direct movement of your body to transfer the energy to magic. It's somewhat less controlled, however, and can be counter-manipulated more easily, as you just experienced. Something like Languitic magic, which relies on spoken word, is more precise and controlled, and requires a specifically worded counterspell to block or counter; however, it can be dodged, though it's harder to, as the opponent still has control over the energy from their spell. There are about twelve total General Magics that we know of right now. Some Houses use Mimic magic, or Copy magic, which allows them to copy magic that other Houses may specialize in and use it themselves."

I blink, then nod slowly. "I think I get it." I think for a moment longer, staring at the ground, then glance up at him. "How many of the General Magics do you know?"

"How many can I use? All of them," he says with a small smile. "How many have I mastered? Only four."

"In nearly two centuries?" I ask, stunned.

"Mastering magic is not easy, Lestri," Nick says. "Some would say that it's impossible. Besides, I spend most of my time among humans, where it's incredibly difficult to practice magic. Even if I'd been down here for the entirety of those two centuries, I may have mastered six, maybe seven." He nods at me. "But mastering your own House's magic--or, in your case, multiple Houses'--takes priority."

I smile. "I think I have the Mastigyn pretty much down."

"Don't be so sure," Nick says, smiling as well. His smile seems...wise, in a way that mine is not. "The Mastigyn are a very powerful type of magic, with secret uses that I will likely never know. It does, however, have its own type of Illusion magic, called Nightmare; I'm certain you can guess why. It's one of the few spells to be named. It's also rumoured that some owners of the Mastigyn had mastered it so thoroughly that they could use it as a Copy magic." He smiles. "And the Mastigyn is unlikely to be the only magic that Mekin specializes in, not to mention your other House."

"Sounds like I have a lot on my plate," I say after a moment, rubbing my forehead.

"Royal Houses have multiple specialities," Nick says. "It could take years to master them all."

"We don't have years, Nick!" I snap. Then I take a deep breath and lower my voice. "Sorry. But I'm not wrong: we have months. Maybe weeks, or days, if our human involvement theory is correct."

"Then you'll have to be down here, training every day," Nick says. "We'll have to fake your death, so you can have as much time as possible to practice."

I hesitate. "This is what it comes down to, Lestri," Ryan says quietly, startling me--I'd forgotten that he and Max were here. "Who will you choose? Humans or Servians? Them...or us?"

Silence stretches so long that the pause becomes awkward as I stare at the ground. My fists clench and release as I weigh the two options, breaths coming faster and faster. I suspect I've already made my choice without consciously choosing it, but I'm scared of what it will be. The mysterious Gate Key sits heavy in my pocket, reminding me of my commitment to the Servians, even as my loyalty pulls me back to the humans. Or is it simply back to familiarity?

Thoughts--memories--of my childhood rise unbidden to the forefront of my mind, and I feel nostalgia swell in my throat. They seem to run chronologically through my head, and I remember all of my birthdays, holidays, sports games spent with my family as if it was last week, saying goodbye to my family as I left for college as if it was this morning.

Then I turn in my mind to the Servians. The commitment I made by Phasing yanks at my mind, just like my love for the humans and those I have among them pulls at my heart. The friends I've made here--the three who're sitting here with me--are the closest I've made in my life, human or otherwise, and even thinking about turning my back on them makes me flush with shame. That doesn't include my intrigue about magic, and the mysterious unknown lurking behind it.

I turn back to my childhood memories, closing my eyes as I savour them one last time. Then, with the feeling that I'm making a monumental decision--that heavy, aching feeling in my chest of letting something dear to me go--I whisper, "Though my heart isn't yet fully in it, and my mind not fully committed...I'll join you."

I only let a single tear slide down my cheek as I let the memories go.