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The young wolf took in a breath, held it for a moment, then focused on the sensations echoing throughout his body. It was all part of the exercise and preparation: close myself off from the world around, shut down my perceptions. Take in a breath, feel the way it stirs my chest and fills my belly. Feel the air on my fur, the thumping of my blood in my veins; recognize and be aware of any little physical sensation around me. There's a tickle just above my left eyebrow; one of my ears is twitching; my tail is stirring; my toe is sore.

_ _

Lucius is having a discussion with the Queen. He has shielded himself to my awareness, but is perhaps unintentionally letting some of his emotions through. He is nervous but not worried, apprehensive but not fearful. He knows his duties and their consequences and responsibilities.

_ _

But that is separate. That is unimportant. Close myself off from that; feel the awareness as it trickles away, like listening to someone speak while they retreat into the distance, or trying to watch as they walk away. Bit by bit it decreases until it's gone, leaving me on my own here with my itchy eyebrow, my aching toe, my swaying tail. The gritty sensation of the limestone underneath me; the scent of the river and the fields wafting in through the window; the ever-present dry heat of the desert sun, and the swirling sand...

_ _

And there it is. Everywhere and in everything, threaded through the very fabric of existence. That's why it is called the Weft: it is what binds everything together, the threads of magic and energy weaving back and forth, pushing things along, guiding the world around. I release the breath; I take in another one; I feel, I sense, the currents of Air as they swirl in, always there, never created or destroyed. Just changed.

_ _

And I reach out for the thick cords of Fire coming in through the window, upon which that light and heat rides. I take hold of it, I bind it close; I have the capability to control it. I intend to control it. And I know I am capable of controlling it.

_ _

Ability, intent, and willpower. I excel. And I succeed.

There was a flicker of heat and light, and then Lua opened his eyes to see the captured flame dancing there before him, hovering a short distance above his cupped paws. The instructors made it very clear that it wasn't absolutely necessary to maintain the somatic motions for weaving magic, though explained that it indeed helped many students and even experienced mages in the works. Each and every mage of a given ability could sense when another was tugging on those correspondent magical threads throughout the Weft - Lua thought about when he had first arrived in the city, and had purposefully worked his ability in Spirit magic to seek out the advisor - just the same that a pair of craftsmen would be able to identify the other's plan by their process.

He sighed and slowly, carefully began to lower his paws, willing the flame, the extension of his own will, to remain stationary there in the air. There was indeed some kind of mental link or block between the motions and the magic: most of the instructors even used them in their demonstrations, for example the one for Air explaining that he enjoyed working a rhythmic, meditative dance into his weavings, putting his mind and body more in tune with the Weft.

Lua didn't yet know how to dance, but as the weeks rolled on into months, as the seasons slowly, almost imperceptibly changed with the direction of the wind, he had started to see Lucius steadily less for their lessons and sessions. The Alenari had already taught him practically everything he knew; magic was a growing, evolving science, and at a certain point the most productive thing a mage could do was to seek out their own horizons. He still reported to the other wolf daily, and stood in on the hearings and other tasks suitable of someone of his position as apprentice to the royal adviser, but much of the days were now his own.

He enjoyed it. Lua turned his paws and spread his fingers out across his thighs, work-calloused pads brushing through soft fur while he knelt here in one of the study rooms at the academy. It also wasn't necessary to strip down almost completely naked while working with magic, but Lucius did drop by every now and then for a visit, a chat, or more often something else entirely, and Lua always made sure to keep that part of his thoughts open to the link, and -

And distraction and wavering focus split through the weave, disrupting the bound strands, fraying them at the edges, and then sent his casting astray. The student gasped and blocked the flash of light from his eyes with a quickly raised paw, the energy of that little flame abruptly bursting out, singing at his palm and leaving the scent of char and smoke wisping around in the room. It curled up towards the open window, danced and fluttered there, then blew away under the gentle breeze that floated on through.

Lua sighed, finally letting his posture slacken. His lower back ached from the stiff rigidity that the other instructors had worked into him - which was another reason he preferred to perform his practices here, on the gritty, itchy limestone floor rather than the smooth, cushioned marble of the palace. _If I can maintain my posture here, then I can do so anywhere,_he told himself, and after a moment of rest straightened back up again. Head up, back straight, tail out, shoulders back.

His mind wandered to what Lucius would see if he were to come in now: the lines of his shoulders visible through soft, tinted white fur, the trail of his spine down along his back, the little ridge where his tail met the rest of his body, affording a little darkened glimpse down beneath the waist of the simple underclothes he had on... and then he shook his head again, the sensations of the world rushing back in through the wake of his lost composure. Lua turned his paws in again, peering closely at the streak of singed fur there between his pads. At least the soot came off beneath a light rubbing.

The young wolf touched at his paws, so many spots bearing the same burnt, waxy fur, the little streaks of brown and black, and the general slight tingling numbness of repeated failures. Back in Dorian he was nobody of note, an orphan who had had to ply his various skills and abilities to the best of his advantage whenever he could. He had done many things of which he was not proud, and the look in Lucius's eyes after some of their sessions told him that his mentor had been able to pick up on some of that.

Already he knew that he should be thankful it was into Lucius's hands he deposited himself, instead of any other mage who could not wield Spirit magic. In the time it took him to travel from there to here he had seen the vast differences in thought and opinion on the subject: from the capital city of Dorian, a place with a violent, bloody history rooted deep in the deliberate, malicious misuse of the rare, powerful magic type; to various nameless villages on and off the road, places so remote, so distant from modern events that their inhabitants doubted the existence of magic as anything more than myth; to here in Maldeth, in Solm, which house not only an academy devoted to the study and practice of the skill but also harbored an important government official who openly wielded his particular talent.

That was something else, too: the Talent. Most mages - but not all - held a superior skill and ability in one of the types they could manipulate. One of the instructor adjuncts, Tura, was a slim, small ferret who had graduated the academy some years back, with a remarkable talent in Wind magic; there was Sylla, the sleek, sassy grey cat who could wield Water almost as well as the instructor, yet couldn't even blow out a candle across a room with her Wind magic; then each of the instructors themselves claimed a Talent in whichever type it was they taught... but the Archmage himself?

Lua took in another breath, held it, and then let it puff out of him, slowly leaning back as he did so. His slightly burnt paws slid along the stone floor beside him, letting him lower himself down until he looked straight up at the smooth ceiling overhead, and heard the myriad noises of the academy whispering in beneath the dry wooden door.

The Archmage was young. Not quite as young as himself or Lucius, or the queen as he had recently discovered she was four years Lucius's junior, but certainly he had fewer years to him than any of the other instructors, at least by half. He was a lion, tall and built, mane still in full bloom with not the first glimmer of silver or white cutting through its rich amber. Lua had had a handful of private sessions with him as well, quiet nerve-wracking things where he could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and had to put deliberate effort into keeping his part of the link closed off to avoid sending Lucius into a panic from the overflow.

But he was calm, and understanding, and most of all patient. The first time, he had sat Lua down in the chair across from his desk, apparently woven from a single block of granite polished to a smooth shimmer. That led the young wolf to assume his Talent as Earth, a thought reinforced the longer he spent there: the engravings set into the walls, too sharp and precise to have been done with a chisel; the framing of the limestone window, how it all fit around the glass panes somehow set in between; the collection of colored gemstones on display on either side of his own chair, display cases pushed up to the wall so that the sunlight filtered down across them and cast the backside of the room in a rainbow sparkle.

Then there had been a little wisp of woven Air, like a forefinger and thumb taking the wolf's chin in a gentle grip and guiding him to face forward, to focus on his elder and superior. Panic had pushed through him then, along with a few other sensations that made him tighten the bond down further, but his own slight skill then had shown to him that it was indeed the Archmage who had done so, with none of the body motions with which Lua had become familiar.

But there was something else about that quick casting, something that made it stand out to the young magic and still stuck in his mind. It was brief, simple thing, yet not inordinately complex so much as it was infinitely delicate. Just as Lucius's magical dexterity, so to say, looked clumsy and ham-fisted against what came naturally to Lua plying the same spells, so too did this little brush from the Archmage feel the same.

So then, he had thought, a talent in Air. And he had been right - for both.

So the Archmage had leaned forward along his desk, brushing his mane - and its careful, ornamental decorations of colored beads, feathers, and other such designs, each one a story of its own - back along his fingers. He had tilted his head a little bit, wet his lips with a tongue that bore another gemstone on a metal rod pierced through it, then blinked his slightly mismatched eyes, only slightly as, while mostly slate grey, the left bore a slash of cool, dark green across it at an angle. And then he had asked Lua to tell his story.

So he did, and the Archmage listened, nodding at points and asking a one or three-word question at others. And then he had sent the young wolf on his way, for his next session with his mentor. And Lua couldn't help but continue thinking of him throughout that session, distracting him from his abilities and skills - and then those thoughts departed his mind when Lucius took his muzzle in his paws and pressed their lips together.

Then a paw lifting up against his throat, and one slipping down his chest and belly; and he had shuddered, and run his fingers along Lucius's wrist, and guided that paw down further while his own advanced forward, pushing through the Alenari's thicker, coarser fur, down along to the base of his tail...

Lua jerked upright where he lay at a knock against the door, panic surging through his throat and chest. He looked up to the chair where he had rested his clothing, then down at his nearly naked body with the very obvious evidence of his thoughts twitching there beneath the sleek fabric. "Um." He waved a paw out towards the door, flattening a hastily constructed barrier of Air against the surface in case his visitor tried to push their way in. "One moment! Let me... ah..."

In a rush he pulled his shirt up over his arms then did down the buttons, but only about as far as his sternum. He figured that if he leaned around from behind the door, there would be no reason for him to get dressed the rest of the way; the rich violet of the regalia shimmered in the warm sunlight as he fixed it into place, then sparkled under a brush from his paws to do away with any of the spare dust or, sometimes, soot that resulted from his practices.

He felt like a fool, standing here in the middle of one of the academy study rooms in his formal shirt and nearly nothing else... but,_Lua figured, _I do what I must. With a little burst of indulgent nervousness he stepped over towards the door, swept away his barrier, and then opened it, but only slightly. The wolf poked his muzzle out just far enough to see through the threshold, and then blinked with surprise. One side effect of closing off his link with Lucius, which his practices necessitated for the proper clarity of mind and presence, was that it tended to block off his other Spirit-based senses as well, and as such he had had no idea who it was that had come for him.

The realization still surprised him, truthfully. After all these years utilizing it just as any of his other, organic senses, Lua always expected the absence to stick out like a fresh wound, big and bright and obvious - when in reality, he never actually noticed the lack of his perception until something happened that reminded him it was gone.

Sylla stood just beyond the door, her usual deep hood pulled up and over her head to block as much of her delicate fur from the sun and sand as possible. Still, though, her triangular feline ears jutted up out of the back of the hood, and there could be no way to hide the rich emerald eyes that glittered from underneath.

"Oh." Lua wet his lips. "Hello. I was - um, practicing."

Those eyes flashed to a spot just beside him inside the room. He swallowed and deliberately kept himself from turning to look. "Hello," Sylla purred. The timbre of her voice always put a little tickle into the roots of Lua's ears, practically demanding his attention whenever she said something. He strove to keep them from flicking, though the cat still glanced up at them. Lua felt his cheeks warm. "Lord Runa wishes to see you."

And the Archmage was a Lord, too. Back in Dorian that generally demanded the ownership of estates, plural, and a sitting title as some governmental authority of note. And he knew that Lucius's title, though he was a permanent resident here in Maldeth, came from his Alenari family heritage; but then even though he himself wore the Kalla colors and crest, Lua doubted that that nobility carried over onto him, and...

And he blinked again, refocusing himself on the feline before him. Sylla tilted her head to the other side, sharp little needle fangs showing between her lips in a sly smile. "Did you hear me?"

"Ah-" Yet again Lua had to deliberately pull himself to look her in the eyes. "Yes. I'll just. Um. Finish up here and then head on my way. In his quarters? Here at the academy, I mean?"

"Yes indeed. The situation," said with a melodramatic wave of her claw-tipped fingers, "is deepening, and it seems he plans to act on it soon. You know how Tura returned from his expedition late last night?"

"Oh! That's right. I haven't seen him yet. Have you spoken with him?"

Sylla shook her head. The feline crossed her arms before her slight chest and leaned in against the threshold of the door. Lua angled himself the opposite way, trying to subtly pull the door further in between himself and his classmate.

"No," she answered, then gently rested her head against the wall there. Her whiskers twitched. "Nothing more than a quick hello in the halls. It seems urgent."

Lua swallowed again. "Yeah. I bet it is."

That was apparently all Sylla had to say, but still she remained there for a moment, long tail twirling near her ankles. Lua held his breath, paws gripping the edge of the door, close to losing his balance from the way he stood with his weight propped onto one footpaw. Waiting for him to speak, she rolled her head to her other shoulder again, an ear giving a little flick.

"Urgent means now, Lua."

"Oh - well, I was just about to wrap this up, so I'll be along - in-"

"Lua."

"Sylla?"

The cat nodded in towards the room, then did so again with a bit more weight. Lua took the bait and turned to look, and saw his pants sitting there folded across the back of the chair by the desk. Her little pink sandpaper tongue flicked out between thin lips.

"What kind of practice are you doing that requires you to remove your pants?"

Lua had always wondered if his face turned pink when he blushed, due to his pale fur. Stumbling around for some kind of answer, he opened his mouth and then shut it just as quickly as a twinge of surprise and confusion echoed through the bond from Lucius's end; at a distance the Doriani realized that this was in response to his own sudden burst of emotion. In response to his glare Sylla, being a cat, just flicked her ears and tail and smiled a little more sharply.

"Sylla."

"Lua."

"Leave me be or I'll make you."

"No, you won't. You told me the restrictions of your bond with Lord Kalla. And that would be using your magic for ill."

"What if I just really, really convince myself it was for your own good?"

"Then I still wouldn't believe you." With one paw Sylla pushed the door slightly open, knocking Lua briefly off balance, and then she took the silken collar of his shirt in her other and tugged him in towards her. She stood half a head shorter than him, though the wolf noticed that she still pointedly avoided looking down to see if he was wearing anything at all other than the shirt. "You know Runa's busy. So I'd recommend getting dressed and going to see him as he requested." She glanced over to his pants again. "After you... finish up whatever you were doing, of course."

"Of course."

Then she released him, though remained leaning in with her little triangular nose twitching and flexing slight, subtle scenting of the air. The longer she lingered the deeper Lua's embarrassment ran: surely there was still the acidic bite of smoke and char, but even he could still smell a little bit of himself underneath that acrid bite... and a lot of Lucius. That was just the way of things: so accustomed to his own scent he could barely discern it, but someone else's stood out to his perception as brightly as if he still maintained the caged flame.

Which meant that Sylla, being a cat, could likely smell both of them. Almost unconsciously her tongue poked out again for a fraction of a second, and then she swept herself gracefully around, tail drawing a circle about her as she went.

"So then I'll see you later, Lua," she rumbled, and went on down the hallway outside. After she had departed the wolf released a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding, then reached up and scratched at that itchy spot behind his ear.

Just my luck, Lua figured. I'm constantly surrounded by people much more dangerous than myself. Sylla he was certain_would go on to become a devastatingly powerful water mage, despite or perhaps even _because of her hampered ability in the other types; whenever he was near Queen Scheherazade he felt as though the rest of the world and all of existence fell away, regardless of Lucius's presence; and then Lady Azura...

His heart thumped in his chest again and he froze halfway into tugging his pants up his legs. Azura terrified him: he had the confidence and comfort to be able to bark and yap and sass at his mentor when they were outside of their sessions, usually to great effect as he could feel when his tricks were working on the other wolf, but when it was just himself and Azura all of that confidence dribbled away. When it was just the two of them, passing by one another in the hallway or sharing a gaze and quick few words in the great hall, or when the young wolf attended the cabinet discussions that the Queen held, he felt suddenly as though he had a firm, thick collar around his neck, and it was the vixen who tightly held the other end of the leash. Not to mention that being Lucius's apprentice and bearing the House colors, during those meetings Lua not only sat next to but in between the two of them, so that not one but two separate paws, tails, and footpaws constantly brushed and tickled and teased at his ankles, his lower back, his thighs... he twitched as his spiritual senses alerted him to other students milling about outside the door, which still stood wide open, and he bustled to get dressed again.

What a wild turn his life had taken. The wolf looked back out over the practice room, frowned, reached forward with a footpaw to smear off a little trail of char along the floor, then tried his best at a quick weaving of Earth and Air to lift it free. Back in Dorian Lua never really excelled at the other types of magic, and thus had never developed much of an aptitude in utilizing them past the basics: Fire to light a candle, Air to snuff it back out, Earth to muffle his footsteps. And now already he was practicing with both the instructors in private sessions as well as his gifted classmates, like Tura teaching him how to weave a slight, delicate cloak of air to insulate his body from the worst of the desert heat, Sylla guiding him into how to slip his control over the particles of moisture in his breath and dissipate them easily into the atmosphere, to prevent the telltale misting of exhalations on cold nights.

From the streets of a city that never noticed his existence, to the palace halls of one which certainly had its flaws yet still recognized him, his presence, and his potential, and then not one but two pairs of eyes that looked upon with affection and interest, two sets of paws that brushed across his body and between his thighs with desire, two mouths that so gently pressed against his own or his shoulder or neck or belly or under his tail. And then he didn't even know what to think about his relationship with Sylla, since while he could just use his Spirit magic to poke around in her mind and see for herself, she was right: not only was it that he couldn't, but he wouldn't anyway.

It wasn't so strange for her to come up and sit at his table whenever he spent time studying in the library, or like earlier when she found his practice room and invited herself in either to assist him or to do her own thing. But then there were those moments like just before she left, when she crossed that boundary and stole his breath away just like Lucius was liable to, or Azura, or...

Lord Runa. The student's ears perked upright. I'm wasting time. He glanced over the room yet again, then pulled the door open and made his way on out. The warmth of the deepening afternoon, the sun working its fingers obtrusively down across the stone tiling of the mostly open-air academy, hit him as soon as he stepped back out of the study room; once he made it to the end of the walkway there Lua paused, closed his eyes, pressed his paws together, then pulled in a breath, refocused himself, and for a moment focused his energy at weaving that cloak of insulation that Tura had taught him.

He managed it for a moment, but then came the sensation of getting tossed along within a ship's cargo hold beneath the deck, and dizziness yanked it away from him. It was a spell requiring a high amount of control and dexterity over Wind magic, and Lua simply lacked both the time and talent to be able to do so just yet. A little disappointed, he let that breath back out and then continued on his way.

The Archmage's quarters, really his own office and study more than anything, stood on the other side of the grounds near the corner in the city walls. Lua nodded and waved towards his other classmates as he continued further, repeatedly sending down a puff of Air to strip the tickle of gritty sand from his footpaws as he went. That was one thing that he feared he would never grow accustomed to here in Maldeth, and especially after spending so much time in the clean, tidy palace there: all the sand. Back in Dorian was the constant bite and spray of ocean salt, stinging the eyes, chapping the skin, making his fur all coarse and stiff, but here... here Lua had begun taking to the bathhouse on his own some days, just so he could sit back in one of the sauna rooms and let the sweat catch the little grains and roll them out of his fur.

Sometimes he fell asleep, dreams often little more than a somewhat surreal mirror of whatever Lucius let trickle through their bond, and then he would wake up to find a muddy puddle gathered around his footpaws beneath the bench. He had to take a private sauna for himself, as the sand had a tendency to get everywhere and the only way to ensure he cleared it out was to drop his towel and spread his legs as wide as they could go.

And also since Lucius had benefited from their practice sessions as well, and had started to draw inspiration from Lua's own skills with Spirit magic. Sometimes when his mentor noticed him dozing off, when his guard dropped the Alenari would press on into his mind and override his thoughts and dreams, and then Lua would shock awake there in the sauna some minutes later, fingers gripping the bench, teeth gritted, head forward and back arched while his body was forced to thrust and pump and grind under the sensation of paws that were not there, a tongue that didn't quite exist, maybe even a knot pressing up underneath his tail from the firm flatness of the wooden bench.

So that was what that felt like. And then he'd have to spend an extra few minutes there in the sauna getting cleaned up, which could at least be a fun opportunity to practice his other magic, and then he'd go about his day. Usually with the knowledge that he would have to pay his mentor back at some point or another, and that always resulted in-

Lua stopped, took in yet another breath, cleared his mind, and this only briefly lingered at the sensation of Lucius there in the back of his mind. Like reading a book in the library, there was always something else going on right at the edge of his perception, and the temptation remained to look away from the text to see what was happening even if it was a little bit out of view, a little bit out of earshot, a little bit indistinct. He ignored all of that, then slid on into the building and continued down the halls, up to the one with the great wooden door at the end.

He raised a paw, reached out, then as always stopped just before knocking: part of him wondered if Lord Runa held some slight ability in Spirit magic without knowing about it. Quite a few more mages actually did than the texts and studies suggested, simply because it often took another Spirit mage to be able to identify it. Lua could readily name three of his classmates who had the capability even if they had never tapped into it, but then when he had brought it up with them he was met with much the same response as he had back in Dorian. So let them stagnate, he thought. It's not my worry. I-

_ _

"Lua?" rumbled that smooth voice from within, rich when he put the strength behind it. "Is that you? Come on in."

The Doriani nodded, a smirk lifting his lips, and lowered his paw before he ever knocked. Then he opened the door and stepped into the room, head up, ears perked, shoulders back, muzzle tilted just slightly up and away like he had been taught up at the palace. He kept his tail close to his legs, so that it swished with his movements yet never flicked or dragged. Lua knew how well the colors of House Kalla suited his pale fur, and always felt a little surge of warmth and pride seeing the way his peers reacted to viewing him in the regalia.

Lord Runa wasn't impressed, though. The young lion looked up from his desk, waved his visitor down into the seat, and then resumed penning something onto a long sheet of parchment. The beads and other adornments woven into his mane jingled softly while he worked, throwing the window's light this way and that. For a moment the only sound in the room other than the wind outside that window was the nearly imperceptible scratching of quill on paper.

Then the lion sighed, sat back, and rolled that quill back and forth between his fingers, themselves bearing a lovely array of rings of different materials and stones. Even to his unskilled, limited capability Lua could sense an immense wellspring of Fire strands caged within one of those gems, tugging at his subconscious so that he had trouble looking away from it.

Of course the Archmage has a Focus, Lua had thought, the first time he had noticed it. That was something spoken about in the general lectures here, how the Foci were ancient, powerful relics of a time past, things somehow capable of storing magical threads woven into them. They required charging by a skilled, careful caster, and often served the purpose as storage for that type when it could not be reasonably acquired, with the common example given being a Fire focus brought along on expeditions to the snowy north, or into caves where moisture choked up conventional flames.

Lua realized Runa was watching him. He jerked a little bit, cleared his throat, and sat up.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

The lion inclined his head. "Do you know why you're here, Lua?"

He tilted his head and pursed his lips, then with delicious, sweet ease reached out with a few tendrils of carefully bound Spirit magic. Not enough for anyone to notice, but still fine and delicate enough to poke easily past the Archmage's natural defenses, soaking in the general impressions in his mind like a wick resting in a dish of oil.

"Something about the West Wind, sir?"

Runa nodded again, steepling his fingers together. Yet again Lua glanced down towards the Fire focus there on his ring. "Yes. We've spoken about it before at length..."

And so they had - just as Lua had with Lucius in private, and then Lucius and Scheherazade both, and then even with Lady Azura, as the ramifications of the situation impacted her oversight directly. Some nightmarishly powerful wild mage who had made her home along the slopes of the mountain peaks bridging the western border of Maldeth, the West Wind lashed out with immense strength against whoever tried to harness, prevent, or otherwise stop her in her tracks, which so far had resulted in the deaths of five mages from the academy here and the maiming of four more.

"I don't understand what the problem is," Lua had admitted during the initial meeting with his mentor and the Queen. "I was technically a wild mage until I arrived here. Could we not just bring her down here for training?"

_ _

Two pairs of viciously sharp eyes fixed on him then, Lucius through his carefully maintained, practiced mask of formality and Scheherazade letting the fire in her blood sparkle through. "That requires," the other wolf explained, "for the individual to be willing."

"Lua," Scheherazade had said, "almost a decade ago the King Regent of Alenar was assassinated. Are you aware of this?"

_ _

"Vaguely." There had been many other, more important things occupying the young wolf's attention at the time, but it had been big enough of an event to make its way through the streets of Dorian. "Why?"

He remembered that Lucius had shook his head then, palpable dejection oozing through the link. "A shame," the Alenari had murmured. "I knew Leon. He made a major misstep in outlawing magic in Alenar, and it pains me to say that I think he got what he deserved. But she shouldn't have been so cruel about it."

_ _

Scheherazade had nodded then, chin resting atop a sleek, sharp-clawed paw. "Our West Wind is the very same who executed the late King Faral."

_ _

"And destroyed much of Kaylor a few years prior."_Lucius had heaved a sigh, then looking out the nearby window. _"Most of my House resides in and around Leyo, but I lost more than half of my family that day. So there is a personal factor to this as well..."

Lua cleared his throat again. "Yes, sir. Are we-?"

"Going to speak with Her Majesty and her adviser - your mentor - on the subject."

"When?"

"Now." Runa shifted in his chair. "So long as that is agreeable with you. I understand you do have responsibilities of your own, and I cannot treat you as I would any other student here."

Lua bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord. Yes, that works for me." And he kept his head inclined for a moment, thoughts flashing back towards his brief encounter with Sylla. This then led to thoughts of if it had been Runa himself who had come to personally fetch him, with Lua there pantsless and with his shirt only halfway done up, probably reeking of desire and self-indulgence.

It was Runa shifting in his own seat and lifting a paw to stifle a little cough that caught his attention. Curious, the wolf reached out towards his thoughts again... then thought better of it, and retracted the intrusion. The lion looked a little befuddled for a moment, then pushed himself back from his desk and rose.

"Shall we?"

"Yes, sir."

~ ~ ~

It was not lost on Lua that he was the only one the Archmage personally accompanied to the meeting. Tura was there - the ferret gave a small, quick wave of greeting before looking back to the Queen and her adviser at the other end of the table - as was two other of the academy's greatest students in Air magic, and then one of the instructors as well. A handful of other faces Lua recognized only in passing sat around as well, holders of office he had encountered throughout his business in the palace or through performing the various errands and responsibilities expected of a student.

The room felt heavy. Lua swallowed, feeling a little bit awkward for once separated from his patrons, so to say: there was Scheherazade and Lucius at the head, then Azura a few seats away. The vixen's warm eyes had flashed up to him when he had entered, but nothing more than a slight nod and glimmer of expression showed that she had noticed.

That was likely for the better, though. She seemed to exhibit greater control over her impulses than Lucius, and kept their interactions behind closed doors.

Within the meeting hall the stirring and shuffling slowly ceased. Scheherazade let a low breath out through her nose, braced her paws along the firm wood of the table, and lifted herself up, her great axe slung over her back shifting as she did so. Now that he knew, she certainly looked her youth, as strip away the regalia, the axe, the general air of royalty, and Lua could easily mistake her for another student at the academy. Perhaps the daughter of a blacksmith for the way her shoulders and upper arms stood taut along her body, how the sleek material of her outfit clung and rolled over the tight lines of muscle in her chest and abdomen.

But then of course, there was the immense presence that set her aside from everyone else in the room. Just like with Runa's focus, Lua felt his eyes and attention immediately drawn towards the lioness who stood halfway bent over the table, her expression level and gaze somewhat distance in thought. She held herself with strength and confidence both unrivaled, and it was all of this that set her apart from anyone else her age. She had claimed the throne quite early, barely a year before Lua's arrival in the city, but until he had learned this the wolf assumed she had held it for at least the past decade.

Then she looked to Lucius. "Are we assembled?"

The Alenari, in his usual pose with his head back, ears forward, and paws held at his lower back, cast his pale icy-blue gaze around the table. Lua felt the consideration rumbling through his mind.

"Yes, my Queen. Shall we begin?"

"At your leisure."

"You have all been apprised," began Lucius, "of the situation as it stands, here within our halls or in private. This is not an event in which we, being the throne of Maldeth, usually intervene, but - it stands on its own enough to require a response. Mora is ignoring the issue. Alenar is in chaos and cannot form an organized response: this is inherently a magical problem, and Faral's outlaw of magical practice and study has effectively hamstrung whatever defense my House's homeland might have once been capable of preparing."

Off to the side, Azura crossed her arms and shook her head with a faintly audible sigh. Lua felt affectionate amusement simmer through the bond.

"There is a great threat stirring in the mountains," the Alenari went on after a pause. "If any of you have traveled westward you will likely have noticed it, and those with a strong magical attunement, particularly towards Air, have been able to feel a great storm stirring there for the past several months unbroken." Blue-white eyes slid from one member to another, lingering just a few moments longer at Lua's before slipping to the ferret across from him. "Tura?"

The ferret jumped as though surprised, but cleared his throat, swept himself off, and stood with a little bit of difficulty. "Ah - thank you, my Lord." He straightened up, wet his lips, briefly closed his eyes to steady himself, and then looked around. "Lord Kalla is correct, as we all know and expect. However... I have been there. I am still injured from the encounter, as my fellow students may be able to attest, and I can say without doubt or lie: there is no storm atop that mountain. To those of us who manipulate the winds, those of us who have trained and practiced to predict or alter the weather, it certainly feels like there is a great storm raging up there. Does it not?"

Around the table other heads nodded. Runa shifted where he sat, leaning in a bit closer.

Tura raised his paws up and out but winced at the exertion. "There is no storm, but just a fellow mage. A woman, a cheetess. I do not know her name, nor where she is from-"

"Her name is Rima," interjected Lucius, still standing at the other end. Scheherazade still stood as well, though looked more that she had simply forgotten she wasn't sitting rather than that she actually had something to say. "She is the daughter of a blacksmith from outside the Kaylor walls. As we have discussed, she is responsible for the assassination of King Regent Faral."

Afterwards Tura waited a respectful second before continuing. "Yes. I must inform everyone here, and reiterate what I revealed to the Archmage upon my return: I felt no magic whatsoever issuing from this Rima. We are all - er, most - of us familiar with the... the feeling of a fellow manipulating the Weft. It's like another sense, something that we instinctively perceive. There was none of that from her: instead it seemed, to me, that the Weft itself formed around her, as though it were... a conscious, living thing, and she the focus."

That caught the Queen's attention. Scheherazade raised her eyebrows. "Runa," she said across the table, "is that possible?"

The Archmage did not bother standing. "I don't know, your Majesty. I do not regret to state that there is still so much we don't know about our practice. I would be hard pressed to say that anything is impossible - just that it is unheard of, or unwritten in history."

"Runa-"

"But," he went on, making a bold move in interrupting the Queen, "a similar circumstance occurred with our very own Lua here. Spirit magic, so rare as to hold the same status as myth - and then abruptly we receive a wandering orphan from Dorian who not only wields it, but claims his Talent in it." Only then did he move to push his chair back and join the few others standing. Tura, a little bit awkwardly, sidled back down into his seat. "I pose a question to everyone here. What do you know of 'primordial magic'?"

Silence for a moment. Lua thought he had briefly read about the subject in some of his assigned studies over what few, vague manuscripts the academy library had over Spirit magic, but certainly not enough to speak on the subject. He nervously scratched at a spot on his cheek.

It was Lucius who spoke, however. The other wolf cleared his throat.

"If I remember right," he began, slowly, "it is... largely a myth-"

"-as are most things with magic," Runa rumbled.

Lucius nodded. "As are most things. Primordial magic... or, I suppose, the idea of primordial magic, is a theory presented by some researchers that, at some point in the distant past, our current five individual types of magic split off from one single, greater whole."

"Yet again, our royal adviser is correct."

"You think Rima commands such a power?"

"I do not know," admitted the Archmage. "As we have said before, there's still so much we don't and cannot know. From what Tura has said, however: there is the distinct feeling of a storm, which we have identified to be a palpable warping and natural manipulation of the very fabric of the Weft to cause these instabilities. It is, or all definitions, a primordial occurrence much like the warmth coming down from the Sun or the crashing of waves on the ocean. The fact that Rima feels to all of our perceptions as one and the same with this phenomenon, and how Tura also cited he could sense no active manipulation or casting from Rima herself... I believe it is something to keep in mind."

Scheherazade looked up at the other lion. "How do we know it is anything more than superstition?"

"We do not. But it is my own thought, your Majesty, that it is not a risk we can afford to take. I like to imagine I know Tura. I taught him personally during his time here under my roof. And I do not believe he would lie to me."

Despite himself, Lua twitched - and then a half-second later realized why. A thought rumbling down along Lucius's end of the link, a quick flash of pale eyes over to him, a split second of indecision... and then the Alenari cleared his throat.

"We can determine that without a shadow of doubt. Lua?"

The younger wolf straightened up, again feeling awkward in his seat, and looked around the table. Lucius, to Tura, to Scheherazade, to Runa.

"Yes?"

"Would you be so willing as to-?"

The Doriani swallowed. Again he looked to the Archmage, who nodded his assent, and then to Tura. The ferret across the table blinked, nervousness twitching his whiskers, but showed no hesitation or fright.

"Tura?"

"I share only my direct, distinct observations," he offered, "and I am wholly willing to submit myself, if that would bolster your confidence."

Runa looked to Scheherazade. She inclined her head. "It would. It's not that I don't believe you, you understand."

"I understand, my Lady Queen."

Lucius motioned with a paw. "Lua. As we practiced."

So the young wolf nodded and pushed himself back from the table, one footpaw catching along the hem of his pants and briefly stumbling him. He righted himself, avoided looking at anyone out of embarrassment, and then perhaps a little too swiftly made his way around the table towards where Tura sat. Similarly awkwardly, the ferret made as if to stand, paused, and then turned to the side in his chair instead.

"Where do you-"

"Right there," Lua murmured. "Right there is good. Let me... just..."

And he halfway knelt before him, one paw coming up along the side of the mustelid's muzzle while the other traced over the line of his jaw. He searched with gentle fingerpads until he found the elevated, energetic thumping of his pulse. Cords of Fire magic worked through the rays of the sun; Air carried itself upon the breeze; Earth held tight within ore and stone; and the liquid essence of Spirit coursed through every living thing, binding the blood and energy of life itself.

Lua took in a breath, held it for a moment, and then as he released it, so too did he let go of the rest of the world around him. The room and everyone else in it faded save for the faint awareness of Lucius - and then, growing here beneath his touch, the sparkling essence of Tura, his friend and classmate, another mentor.

Like a torch flickering in a cave, like a single candle dancing in a dark hallway, he found him at a distance. And Lua pulled himself closer, wrapped himself around that sweet warmth, curled his presence up around it, and then... dove slowly, gently in. Beneath his paws Tura twitched and let out a sigh, then took another breath. His pulse slowed to a steadier, calmer pace, and his head lolled just slightly.

And then Lua was there. There atop the mountain, trudging up through snow so deep it bit at his shins through his pants. There was no memory of breathing here, but he knew that he must be, and along the way the spans of time melded together as Tura's mind eliminated the useless in-between portions. He arrived at the mountain, he climbed it, and then he was there at the top.

_ _

At first when he saw her, he thought her lost, as some poor woman stranded up here seeking refuge. There was that sensation of the storm all around tugging at his instincts, shrieking for him to take cover and wait out the weather, yet the air stirred calm and steady up along the mountaintop with only a steady flurry of light snow drifting out from the grey sky all around. Then there she was, taking form from the mist, calm and untouched by the chill.

_ _

So he looked at her, and she him. Scorn and distaste touched her short, sleek muzzle, the cheetess turning her head up and slightly away in that disdainful way the cats tended to have. Lua - Tura - could feel the storm all around, and realized that she must be the source, but then there was no manipulation of threads, no handling and wrangling of magic. Instead to his perception, if that were indeed the correct word, it seemed for all the world that the Weft bound itself to her, instead of the other way around.

_ _

It molded and formed around her as though she were some great stone weighing down the center of a blanket drawn taut, and as it rolled, so too did the pocket in the material around it. He, a skilled Air mage, could see the result of this effect in the cords, the ropes, the cables of natural magic pouring into her, debris caught in a river as it gushes over a fall, all without her needing to tilt her head or lift a finger.

_ _

She had blue eyes. Not the uncanny, pale whitish-blue like Lord Kalla or his associate, but blue like the sky, blue like thick ice, blue like the waves of the ocean off the shore of Tura's homeland to the southwest. Lua - Tura - straightened to his full height and held an arm out, requesting that his companions halt behind him. Himself and a Water mage, then the five nonmagical associates they had taken with them on the journey. It was supposed to be just a routine investigation. They had not known that it was a mage who stood at the eye of this storm.

_ _

Or - was it? Was a stone jutting out from the current of the water still part of the river?

_ _

Words were exchanged, though Tura couldn't quite remember most of them. The cheetess tilted her head at one point and then, clearly: "I have made my mark on the world. I have achieved my end and now wish to simply be, and yet time and time again you come to me, seeking something or another. Do you desire secrets, little insignificant one? Do you seek my death?"

_ _

And then gentle fingers of coalesced wind wrapped around his body, chilling him to the bone through fur and clothing, and lifted him into the air. He panicked and struggled, calling to his skill to peel the air away from around him, yet for once in all of his years since he left the academy, the magic did not respond. She made no effort to manipulate the threads herself: it was as if the world responded and reacted for her.

_ _

Slowly he floated towards her, and slowly she approached. Off to the sides his ears flicked and jerked towards strange, unnatural sounds, muffled thumps in the snow, grunting and struggling. Had she brought mercenaries with her? He hadn't sensed any usage of magic, and yet - the cheetess tilted her head, mouth quirking into something between a grin and snarl, and never once did she blink. Her gaze danced around behind him like a fly to a candle, and then she, or rather the wind, turned him to see as well.

_ _

Tura had always known that each type of magic could be equally as deadly as another. Everyone figured that Fire could scorch and char and burn, and then few considered what horrors could be done with Water, stripping the moisture from within the body or suffusing the lungs to drown in the open air.

_ _

And then Air itself could be used to bind and constrict, or sharpened into vicious blades that sheared fur from skin, skin from muscle, muscle from bone, arranging the loose flaps out like the wings of a bird where they steamed in the chilly air. Air could be condensed into immense, heavy pressure, squeezing the eyes from inside the skull. Even fewer knew that the little ocular organs contained liquid, and that when put under enough pressure this jetted out and stained the snow as it melted it. Air could sweep into the lungs and fill them to capacity, without letting the body actually draw forth any of its vital substance, so that just like with Water it suffocated while still amid the very thing that could save. Air could swell into the chest, into the body, and force it to burst from the inside, and-

_ _

And Lua jerked backwards and felt the sharp, deep sting of the stone floor where he impacted, sweat dribbling from his forehead and his heart pounding in his throat and chest. His paws shook, and he felt the strands of his Spirit magic cling in against Tura's presence for a few seconds longer before a swift, zealous reflex cut them free. The ferret bucked as well and then let out a sigh of mixed relief and grief, mouth wavering while he tried to hold back his emotions.

The young wolf felt the chill of death creeping up from the pit of his belly, the back of his mouth dripping hot bile, the world around him spinning slowly. He felt dazed for a moment, unsure whether the voices he heard were around him or at the other side of the room, and then slowly came to realize that both were true. He pulled himself to his feet with Tura and Runa's assistance, and looked across the table to see Lucius in a similar situation, halfway bent over with his head in his paws.

Lua swallowed, then did so again. Through the turmoil he could not tell what emotions were his own, which were Lucius's, and then which lingered from the ferret. "Tura is-"

"-telling the truth," Lucius finished, then lifted his head. The Alenari took a steadying breath and turned to look at his Queen beside him, then along to Lua across the table. Apology glimmered in those pale eyes.

"You witnessed it, too?" asked the lioness.

"...Some."

"What is your advice?"

Now the other wolf shared a look with the Archmage. Lua felt something pass between the two of them.

"A group of the academy's four most powerful Air mages," the lion stated. "I'm sorry, Tura, but that includes you. Four at least - perhaps five, six to be safe. And then Lua as well."

Again he felt his heart drop. Already he knew that he had been in consideration for the expedition, but actually hearing the confirmation... "Me?"

It was Lucius who spoke next, calm and sure. Azura stood beside him now, arm entwined with his and her other paw resting over his own. "Yes. I would go myself, but for pure pragmatism, you are a better fit. I am needed here at the palace, and your capability far, far outstrips my own. Remember our practices and discussions, and your own studies." Pale white eyes leveled across the table at him. "You will be instrumental in the success of this mission."

~ ~ ~

Two weeks to the day. That was the timeline they were given, proposed by Queen Scheherazade and corroborated by her adviser and Archmage. Solemn gazes spread around the table, quiet discussions continued, and then they each went their own ways, Lua feeling as though he were watching himself from across a distance.

Then day by day that timeline ticked closer, the young wolf distracted in his studies and practices, fumbling exercises that he had previously mastered. It was to be something relatively unheard of in written history, only performed in ancient myth; something that, until his own arrival, was thought to be legitimately impossible. Spirit magic bound and flowed through everything in existence, suffusing the Weft and all that passed through, over, and beneath it: a suitably skilled and dexterous Spirit wielder, which Lucius was not, could suppress the abilities of another mage at the cost of their own energy and lifeforce.

And Lua was to completely separate Rima from the Weft that so powerfully bound itself to her. He was to effectively snip her presence and essence out of the fabric of existence, not only redirecting the river but damming it at the source.

He knew that he could do it. He just wasn't certain he wanted to.

The young wolf rolled his head back against the chair and sighed, nostrils flared to draw in the sweet, cool scent of the tea. The warmth sizzled out through his fingerpads, pleasant company amid the chill of the desert night, though he hadn't taken another sip since it had been refilled. Then slowly, carefully, another much more present weight pressed down into the space beside him, a leg brushing against his own, tail curling around his lower body, one arm coming to rest about his shoulders. A familiar scent wafted over him; he turned and halfway opened his eyes to look into another pair of blue-white, glimmering with concern.

"You're worried," rumbled Lucius.

"Yes," Lua replied, and leaned to rest his head along his mentor's - his lover's - shoulder. He shifted in place; Lucius drew him closer. Strict teacher and student during the day, save for the times when either of their instincts and desires got the better of them, to then meld to something sweeter and more natural in the after-hours. Lua had not spent a night in his own palace chambers in weeks, bouncing his time back and forth between his regular sessions with Lucius, his own personal studies and practices, and then the assistance - both formal and otherwise - that he had begun under Azura herself.

Sometimes literally, in fact. Today, though, the young wolf had been tasked with sorting through endless documentation and logbooks, a dreary task that Azura was always working at yet could never complete. Still stacks of parchment and paper stood atop the desk nearby, though upon Lucius's arrival earlier in the night, as the moon had long since risen above the vast city and desert outside the window, the two had elected to take a bit of a break.

There was a certain static vibration in the air between the three of them, naturally. Lua felt it every time he lifted his eyes to where Azura still sat at the desk, and could feel it through his bond with Lucius whenever the other wolf tasted either of their scents on the air.

"You're stronger than this, Lua." Slowly, warm fingers entwined with his own. "And I cannot tell a lie."

Despite himself, the Doriani breathed a light laugh. "It is not a lie to be simply wrong." He squeezed the other wolf's paw, then turned his head a little further, tilted it, looked across the thicker, darker fur of Lucius's muzzle, the faint banding of markings across his eyes, the slightly different growth pattern of that fur... and then the two met in a slow, soft kiss, lips coming together, tongues flashing across one another for just a moment. "You are nice, though."

Then a second voice, equally soft, from up and behind the two of them: "Ah. He could bear to be nicer." Azura's paw drifted down over Lua's shoulder, and then the young wolf craned his head up and back to first look past her bosom towards her face where she leaned over the chair. "Your fears are well-founded, dear. It'll be your first official mission, which not only has great bearing on your position here within Scheherazade's court but also consequences for the region as a whole. Truthfully," now said with her fingers splaying back through the ruff of fur along the back of Lua's neck - and making him shiver and rumble with sweet pleasure, "I'm surprised that old fool Runa didn't volunteer himself."

"It must be done," mused Lucius, reaching for Lua's tea with his other paw. He took a sip, rolled it around in his mouth, took another, swallowed. "And the situation is become urgent enough th-"

"Hey." Lua grabbed back for it. "I wasn't done with that."

Lucius raised his eyebrows and looked up over the other wolf's head to where his wife stood. Lua felt a twinge of mischief fling through the bond. "No?" Then the Alenari tilted the cup back and sipped it again, quite loudly - and then ran his paw up behind Lua's head and pulled him to him.

This time the kiss gushed with that heady, minty sweetness, pouring out from Lucius's mouth into his own as soon as their lips met and locked. Lua jerked with surprise, then pawed at the Alenari's chest and shirt and, after a moment, hesitantly swallowed. Then he did so again, and again, and let a puff of tea-heated breath out through his nose, then swirled his tongue up against Lucius's to suck off the rest of that lovely flavor...

...and then the other paw drifted from the back of his neck around to his front, Azura's gentle touch coaxing him out of the kiss with her husband. "Don't you know," she murmured; out of the corner of his eye Lua saw Lucius wipe his mouth to hide a grin, "that it's rude not to share with a Lady?"

"Oh-" he began, but then her lips found his. So similar, so different, the vixen's scent and warmth washed back over him, sending a second shiver vibrating down the younger wolf's body. His own paw came halfway up yet floated there in the air, fingers twitching the further she pushed into the kiss: her tongue slid and swirled along his own, warmth already mixed with Lucius's there so that he could now taste both of them in his mouth. Just as Azura pushed Lua back into Lucius, did Lucius reach forward and guide Lua's paw forward to press in against his wife's chest, coaxing her to straighten up and let out a little rumble of appreciation.

Her lips parted from his with a soft, wet smack. "My," she purred, her breath similarly tinted with the taste of the tea, "_someone's_being forward today." Orange eyes flashed briefly up over his shoulder, with the slight smirk showing that she knew who had been behind the touch.

Lua made no move to remove his paw. Instead he just shivered again, licked her saliva from his lips, and pressed in a little more firmly, drawing a sweet exhalation from her. "You two are trying to distract me."

"Yes," Lucius answered, and nipped at his neck from behind.

"It's working, isn't it?" Azura went on. She squished herself up against him, then reached back and, bit by bit, undid the fastenings of her shirt until the smooth fabric fell forward and away from sleek, soft fur and flesh. Then she was the one to take the Doriani's paws and guide them forward, cupping each of her breasts and then squeezing them up against her while she leaned right back in to resume the kiss.

This pressed Lua up against Lucius behind him, the other wolf's arms coming to wrap around his body, to slide over his belly and lift the hem of his shirt, and then of course to sink down a little bit further. Lua let one arm trail up behind Azura's body to her back so that he could hold her in against himself, all of his prior thoughts trickling away beneath the burgeoning warmth of desire - from himself, from Lucius through the bond, and then a little bit from Azura as well, what with their closeness and steadily growing intimacy over the months.

It was a bit of an awkward position here, sideways in this chair that ideally sat one and a half, but they managed. One leg came up and hooked over the other arm, then Azura briefly slid back to tug her shirt the rest of the way off while Lucius did the same for Lua's pants... and then the Doriani sighed, shivered, rolled his head back, and found Lucius's mouth up and behind his shoulder again, hips churning slowly as fingers and thumb played back and forth over his sheath. Lucius pinched that lip of supple, wet skin between his forefinger and thumb, drawing it up over Lua's twitching tip, then rubbed there; Lua pulled a breath in through his mouth, swallowed, moaned out, and then throbbed again, arousal pressing up through that tension until he felt himself squeeze out between those fingerpads.

Then there was a tingle of warm breath against his sheath and sack, soon followed by the light touch of a nose running up along the underside, and then a second paw, this one Azura's, coming to assist the first. Lucius rubbed back and forth at his sheath there while his wife lifted him forward, nose coming in, lips pursed to trace along his underside, breath curling out warm and soft and pleasant. Then her tongue came out too, flicking across and over and up and around, and Lua sucked a breath straight out of Lucius's lungs, then let it right back out across his muzzle in a shivering sigh out through the nose.

Then again, and again as the vixen continued at him, resting her weight over the arm of the chair, allowing the other wolf's legs to wrap weakly around her bared upper body. Lua squirmed until he found a more comfortable position, the solid heat of Lucius's arousal digging into his lower back. He so, so_wanted to flip over and attend to _that as he had done so many times before, but the way things were now with his hips tugged halfway up over the arm of the chair, Azura's head bobbing slowly in his lap, Lucius's tongue still playing back and forth around his own, slipping behind his lips, drawing along the roof of his mouth, sucking in against him - until Lua popped free again, panting, and looked down to watch the vixen's progress.

When she came up off of him again he couldn't help but give another squirm and throb, fully hard with the slight bulge of his knot visible within his sheath. Orange eyes glittered up at him; Azura brushed Lucius's paw away so that she could wrap both around him there, one at the root of his sheath and the other up at the lip to deliberately keep that supple skin wrapped ahead of the bulge.

"Let's get you in a more comfortable position," the vixen purred, then slid away from the edge of the armchair. She wiped her mouth as she did so, little strands of sticky wetness clinging to her paw. Then she rose to her full height, looked down at the two wolves sprawled out before her, and stepped around to the front. "Lucius, dear? Would you help me out?"

Gentle paws pressed against Lua's backside, lifting him up and away from the firm warmth that continually twitched near the base of his tail. "Of course," the Alenari rumbled in response, then with some effort managed to extricate himself from where he had lodged himself behind the other. "What do you need, my love?"

"I need you," the vixen went on, now guiding her husband in front. She stood him in front of herself for a moment, looked him up and down, then scoffed and swiftly began working at the fastenings of his pants. Lucius cast a quick look down to his student still sitting in the chair; Lua swallowed, gentle embarrassment and bright, rich arousal thrumming continuously back and forth along their bond. "To first get out of - these-"

And then there it was, firm and bright, swinging up and out from Lucius's body once the restriction of his pants had been relieved. The older wolf tilted his head back with a sigh of sweet relief on his lips, a little spray of pre jetting out from that tapered tip as Azura tugged his pants the rest of the way down. One paw came in to do the same to his sheath, squeezing it up and around his knot to rub there, while the other cupped behind his balls and brought them forward - and then Lua was leaning forward as well, his fingers resting over Azura's, muzzle in its proper place there along the base of sheath and sack.

He drew in the other wolf's scent, so strong, so familiar as it tickled the back of his throat, all the way down into his loins. Lua let that breath out between parted lips and then inhaled through his nose again, now lifting up to peel Azura's fingers away; then he reached up with his own paw, other working in his lap, and stroked Lucius against his muzzle. His throat already felt a bit slick from the ravenous kisses, and now he worked to smear himself further in his scent by lifting his nose up alongside Lucius's sheath, then pressing his lips between his balls, and opening his mouth while he nuzzled up at the buried bulge of that knot, and-

Then that wet heat brushed right on past, and Lucius's mouth met his own yet again. Lua smirked amid the kiss and opened his eyes to see Azura's paws there on the other wolf's shoulders easing him down, only for the vixen to then kneel down as well. One paw came up to his jaw to tilt him down, and then he was kissing her again; and then Lucius's came over to the other side to tilt him back to himself; and then one wolf jumped and shuddered, and so too did the other at the sensation of a vulpine paw wrapping around their lengths, giving a little squeeze and stroking in rhythm.

The distraction really was working. Lucius had put his poor student through "practices" like this before, challenging Lua to maintain his presence of mind and awareness while flooded with all kinds of sensations and hormones, but this time he didn't think that was the idea. He had to lean over a little uncomfortably to bump his forehead to the other wolf's, muzzles angled slightly so as to rest comfortably against one another, while each panted in turn beneath Azura's stroking. Lua opened his eyes, saw Lucius's pale blue-white there similarly half-lidded, tilted a bit to kiss him again, and then again.

Then, however, the gentle grip around his arousal slid away, though Lucius continued shivering and panting into his mouth. Lua looked up in time to see Azura leaning in once more, now to brace that paw on his should and push him back in the chair, leaving Lucius there with his mouth hanging open - and then she nosed down along the Doriani's twitching hard shaft. Down, down further, down until the steadily growing bulge of his knot in his sheath obscured the sight of her nose; he felt her exhalations trickle out across his sack, shuddered, then did so again when her tongue flicked out, curled beneath his balls, then drew one up into her mouth, to soon be followed by the second sucking up as well.

The two wolves shared a sweet, indulgent glance again just before Lucius dove in as well, drawing his tongue up along Lua's underside before wrapping his lips around his tip. The Doriani tightened up, shivered, and melted where he sat, all the breath and tension going out of his body until he hung limp there in the chair. His footpaws twitched, his tail thumped in the little space between himself and the cushion, and every time Azura suckled again his ears flicked and he shivered.

What to do with his paws-? Lua gripped at the arm, then dug his claws into his thigh, then brushed across Lucius's head, then did the same for Azura's, then finally just rested it across his chest where he could feel his own thumping heart and breathing. His mouth came open and hung there, those heavy breaths coming and going in slow, unsteady pulses; his eyes fluttered back and forth beneath heavy lids, hips grinding and churning.

Beneath all of the attention and swelling pleasure, Azura slid free from his sack, leaving him smeared in sticky saliva, but she wasn't done yet. The vixen swallowed, drew her deft tongue between his balls, and then met Lucius's mouth there halfway down along his shaft, where the two hovered in an indulgent, wet kiss all with Lua's arousal twitching between them. Tongues curled and wrapped around him, lips pushed and pressed, breath puffed, whiskers tickled; Lucius slid down to slip his tongue beneath the other wolf's sheath while Azura came up to take over the position her husband had just opened. Through bleary, half-closed eyes Lua watched her shoulder shift with a slow, steady movement, Lucius's body shivering in turn.

Then they swapped again, and then Lucius jerked, swallowed against his student, and drew back, teeth gritted and eyes wrenched shut. Azura smirked and wrapped her paw more firmly around both wolves them, pumping them together; Lua let his head loll on his shoulders and just enjoyed the sensation, both his own as well as what washed over from Lucius's end of the bond as well, all of this intense pleasure gyrating through each of them.

Azura leaned in again, once more touching her nose to the spot right there at the rim of his sheath. Lua's claws dug into the fabric of the couch; he couldn't help but grind up against her, wanting more of that warm breath and warmer tongue against him, trying to slip into the tight space made even more so by his growing knot, balls pulling up against his body, tail straining underneath him. He ended up kicking one of the two every now and then, but neither seemed to move or notice.

Lucius leaned forward, rested his head along Lua's thigh, and swallowed, the tension in his body growing steadily, blossoming out, reaching a peak - and then Lua had no idea which one of them finished first. There was just that so-familiar blinding burst of heat, the intensity and sensation lancing back and forth through his system, the sudden reflexive bucks and jerks from his hips, his loins, his lower body, and all the rest of him, and then he bucked into the air, knot held tight within his sheath behind Azura's clenched fingers and thumb, gasping each time he emptied out another jet of thick white across his fur and, unfortunately, his regalia as well.

One paw resting across his chest still, the Doriani twitched at the sensation of that same wetness arcing across and already soaking into his fur, a few more spurts lobbed up and across his lower body while he still shuddered with the residual back-and-forth. With effort he managed to open his eyes in time to see Lucius going through the same predicament, trying to straighten up only for the intense pleasure to force him to double over again and again; Lua imagined he could hear the wet smacks of his seed as they impacted the stone floor beneath the chair, Azura now having turned her head to watch her husband, sweet enjoyment adorning her muzzle.

Each of the two had their individual skills, Lua had found. He swallowed, breathless, and rolled his head forward again, now sharing a slightly embarrassed look with each of them. Lucius was good with his appointed assets, as so many visits to the bathhouse repeatedly proved - Lua still twitched, knot swollen within his sheath while thinking about it - while Azura was quite good with her paws.

One of those prior mentioned practices involved Lua trying to hold his focus and maintain a casting while she pawed her husband off so close that Lua could smell him with each inhalation...

Azura sat back, satisfied. She lifted a paw to her muzzle and began idly lapping at the mess. Already Lua had forgotten if that was the one she had used on him, or on Lucius. "Better?"

"_I_certainly am," interjected the Alenari. He finally straightened up, took in a breath, and then let it shakily back out, then moved to stand up. Lua couldn't look away from the other wolf's pulsing, still dripping shaft, heavy red flesh hanging out away from his body. "Lua?"

Idly Lua wondered if Scheherazade had been able to sense any of this, knowing the natural, organic bond that she held with her adviser. Even just sitting here the Doriani could sense a small amount of satisfaction and pleasure wafting over from the vixen where she still knelt, though quite a bit more shimmered through on her muzzle; when the two locked eyes Lady Azura winked, wet her lips, and slipped another finger into her mouth, yet again pulling a twitch and pulse from Lua where he sat. Lucius and Azura maintained their own link as well, so then it was possible she indulged the two so often because she drew palpable pleasure from it as well.

The young wolf squirmed, gently lowered his paws into his lap, ran the pads of his fingers and thumbs along the rim of his sheath - and then with a gasp and a soft, wet pop, let it flip back past his swollen knot. Another spurt emptied out across his belly, and he was rendered speechless beneath the waves of hot pleasure for another few seconds.

"If anything," he panted, "you're making me want to leave even less."

"It's just routine, dear," Azura rumbled. She stood up, offering a paw down to each of them in turn. Lua took it, grimaced at the sticky wetness, then wobbled when he finally managed to stand. "You'll head out with the others, get this done, come back in - what, six weeks? And then everything will continue as normal."

Beside her, a little dazed, Lucius nodded. "She's right, Lua." He reached up to wipe at a spot on his muzzle, then grimaced at the smear that doing so left behind. "Before my appointment as royal adviser I had done the same. Besides... you've faced Scheherazade and come out none the worse for wear. And you've faced-"

Azura crossed her arms over her bare chest. "Me."

Lucius flashed his pale gaze towards her, affection curling his lips. "Yes."

"My lady, you still terrify me-"

Slightly damp fingers curled around his throat, pressing on him in all the right places to faintly dim his vision, make his heart thump, and also send another shiver and throb coursing through him. Azura lifted him towards herself a bit.

"Good," she purred, then held him there for another kiss. When she released her grip the Doriani nearly fell back into the chair. "I ask Lucius every now and then, but he never plays nice."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Ah. I cannot lie, but _she_can."

"I imagine that helps in certain discussions..."

"What helps," Azura explained, "is to know where and when to lie, and how much. I'll bring you along to some of my meetings sometime, as my official assistant."

"Once I return from this mission?"

This time it was Lucius who inclined his head. He folded his paws behind his back in that formal stance he always took on when attending the Queen, but still, Lua could not ignore his heavy shaft still hanging out away from his body, only now starting to retract back into his sheath - and then Azura completely bare-chested, streaks of dripped saliva and other such fluids darkening her fur.

"Yes," the Alenari confirmed. "Once you return."

~ ~ ~

Lucius Kalla ef Leyo Alenar, Royal Adviser to Her Majesty Queen Scheherazade vai Solm va Maldeth, clasped paws with the sleek, white-furred Doriani wolf who stood before him. Pale blue eyes in a muzzle the color of afternoon clouds, struck through with fog and sprays of storm, this easy complexion bringing out the rich color of his finery, that shimmering violet easily catching the light of the sun overhead. From where he stood he could see his House's crest as well there along Lua's shoulder, the golden crescent sun over per bend sinister citrine. It warmed him to look upon it, and he knew that Lua knew it. Even though the younger wolf chafed at the formality of his regalia, still he went out of his way to wear it whenever he saw his mentor.

Slim and sleek, his heritage accentuating the differences in his body type compared to Lucius's, from the first time the Alenari had rested eyes upon him had he been unable to look away. His natural beauty pushed through in everything he did, shining wholly beyond the implications of his unknowable potential within the realm of magic: quite quickly had Lua learned everything Lucius had to teach him, to the point where now their sessions consisted mostly of novice exercises and other fundamentals, strengthening the foundations that were already there so that he could more effectively continue his education at the academy. Already he had begun private study sessions with Archmage Runa, and though Lucius regretted his loss in shared time with the younger wolf, he knew that it was precisely what Lua needed.

Just as this mission would do him better than anything else he could find here. The Alenari knew that beyond any doubt, and made sure to let that confidence spread through his ritual bond with the other wolf; before him Lua blinked, half-tilted his head, and then straightened up, his ears perking. Their sessions together had been a mutual learning experience, as Lua's natural dexterity and talent meant that he, too, had something to teach Lucius in plying his magic. Confidence and delicacy was everything in utilizing Spirit magic.

So then Lucius tapped into some of that delicacy to let his wife's thoughts and feelings through as well, Azura standing in her lovely low-cut dress with her paws clasped in front of her. Lua's ear twitched again and he looked to the vixen, icy blue eyes sparkling; his lips parted to let out a small, shuddering sigh, and then he steadied himself and swallowed again. A surge of warmth, affection, appreciation, and delight flooded back through the bond, ruffling Lucius's shoulders and making his tail sway over against his wife's in recognition; Azura inclined her head, silent yet still acknowledging the intent.

Far off in the distance rose the jagged line of the mountaintops, separating western Maldeth from the coastal lands of Mora to the south and then Alenar to the north. Even Lucius could feel it now, this odd sense of pressure and imminence vibrating over from that peak; the closer Lua approached, the more he would be able to feel it, too, with Tura and the other mages at his side. Never had Lucius seen so much power concentrated into one spot, yet now this sleek Doriani was the only one left to join the group, the great riding-lizards used to transport travelers from one side of the desert to the other standing at attention. Their journey would take them along the lizards across the sea of sand north to Meris first, and then a carriage west from there over the grasslands to the peaks.

And there they would face this wild mage Rima, who bent the Weft to her own will, and separate her from her ability. And then Lua...

Lua would-

Lucius's mouth twitched. Something shocked through the bond. In front of him Lua frowned, startled, and looked over his shoulder at the great mountain. A deep, surging dread crested from one wolf to the other and then back, inexplicable, unfathomable. Azura felt it too: Lucius's ear twitched as she gasped, and then the sensation of two hearts beating with nervousness flooded back into him. The vixen reached out for his paw, missed, missed again, and then finally found it, squeezing tight.

And then, as quickly and suddenly as that sensation spread did it dissipate, leaving the adviser dazed and dizzy. He cleared his throat, shook himself, swallowed, opened his mouth to try to speak, failed. Lua did the same. It was Azura who finally managed.

"You will return from this," she said, smooth and confident. Lucius felt the rumbling nervousness hidden deep beneath. "How else will I hope to finish my nightly workload? And my husband needs you too-"

"I do," Lucius confirmed. His other paw drifted away from Lua's, and for a moment the two wolves just stood there watching each other. It would be improper to show more than just their formal, professional partnership here, with the Archmage himself standing by the reptiles still discussing specifics with Tura astride, but...

But there was no way he couldn't. In the quiet whisper of desert wind Lucius shifted his paw forward, this time entwining it with Lua's at his side in a much gentler, sweeter touch. The Doriani wet his lips, shifted, tried to smile; then Lucius tilted his head up with finger splayed across his jaw, smiled, and leaned in for one last slow, sweet kiss.

For a moment time stopped. The wind ceased; the pressure from the mountain retreated; all of the constant sounds and sensations and worries trickled away, leaving their shared pool of thought crystal smooth, unbroken. After a moment their kiss broke apart, and there hidden behind worry and hesitation and concern, a flash of a question sparked along Lua's end of the bond.

Lucius let his smile return. Were either of them to ask, the other could not lie; and yet, neither did. The sensation spoke for them.

Lua turned to Azura, and Lucius took a half-step back to soak in the sweet compersion. Azura was not so reserved as himself, taking Lua's muzzle in both paws and lifting him up to meet his mouth with her own, muzzle tilted just slightly so that her breaths tickled out across his whiskers.

"You will succeed," she murmured, still holding his muzzle. She traced a thumb back along his soft snowy fur. "I carry no doubt of that."

Lucius nodded, his smile beginning to return on its own. "You've come so far already, Lua, and there is still so much further to go. We shall eagerly await your return."

"It'll be easy," the younger wolf chuckled. He began moving out towards the gathering. "There and back. I'll see if I can bring a souvenir from Meris. Farewell, Lucius. Lady Azura."

They each raised a paw and held it there until he slung himself up onto one of the beasts. Runa nodded towards Lucius, leaned in towards the window, knocked, and said something under his breath to the new passenger.

Azura's other paw squeezed at his own. "You will keep an eye on him?"

"I don't have a choice. The bond is permanent; I will know where he is, what he is feeling, what he is doing."

"Even across such a distance?"

"Yes."

"So, then-?"

He squeezed back, and turned to face his wife. "We shall see."

"So we shall." The vixen tilted her head, looking up towards the sky. Lucius followed her gaze and saw nothing but a faint swirl of cloud far above. The riding-lizards barked and chirped; Lord Runa took a few steps back and waved the lead driver forward. "I wonder..."

"Yes?"

Orange eyes glittered over at him. "Whatever shall you do with all of the time you just freed?"

Lucius inclined his head. "I suppose I'll have to do my job."

"I suppose I will too, then. Gods. Six weeks." She shook her head. "Are you sure you don't have any other lovely assistants I could borrow?"

"Six weeks, my love." They watched the group as their silhouettes faded beneath the twisting heat distortion, little more than a faint suggestion cresting the next rise. "I know you could use the extra paws."

"As could you..." Azura sighed, then squeezed his paw again. "He will return, dear."

Lucius tightened his jaw. Something just wouldn't permit him to agree. And that frightened him more than anything. He knew that Lua was more than capable, and knew that the young would could overcome nearly any obstacle that blocked his path.

Then, yet again, a slow yet distinct burst of warmth spread through the bond, shocking him back to himself. Lucius swallowed, sighed, and reached up to dab at an eye.

"He shall succeed."