The incident in Peroth's office was the last I saw of Darius for several days. He came and went as I believed a phantom would; in the nascent, bleary-eyed hours of the night when the world was asleep. I'd find traces of him in the morning, stray books left on the table, the armchair shifted from my spot by the window to his preferred position by the hearth, and a fire banked in the fireplace's belly.

I would sit in the chair and sigh with my hands extended to the fire's warmth, wondering if he was any closer to discovering what he sought, wondering how many days I could still call my own.

The cat became my closest companion. I would wake to find it sitting on the foot of the bed, meowing for its breakfast. I had no clue how it kept getting inside the room. I purposefully shut it out every night, and I couldn't imagine Darius was the one letting it in. 

I would give the cat a discerning glare before rising, dressing, and taking it with me to breakfast.

I only grew more suspicious of the feline when the two Vytians bowed their heads to it.

I visited the dungeons where my new instructor was a permanent resident. Cage was pleasantly surprised to see me, and I got the impression that he had been looking forward to my return. He had gathered several beginner's texts and, as I sunk cross-legged on the floor outside his cell, he passed me the first volume. 

"I'm sorry I can't give you a chair," the mage said as he swiftly twisted his fingers in a set pattern and magicked his brocaded stool into existence. "The bars have been enchanted. No magic can flow through in either direction." 

"That's okay." I settled with the book cradled in my lap, ignoring the stink of mold and wet things lingering in the fetid hallway. I cracked the book open to the middle.

The mage tutted. "From the beginning, girl," he said with a deft flick of his hand. Another copy of my book appeared in his grip, and he popped it open to the first page. "If you are to be taught, you are to be taught from the beginning." 

Grimacing, I did as he told me to. I started at the beginning. 

As the hour passed, I learned that—like the majority of subjects in education—the study of magic was mostly theoretical, and began with a firm basis of understanding. Cage explained that those who didn't have an innate skill like a dragon's ability to change forms or a Sin's ability to speak in the Tongue of the Realm had to be taught magic. It had to be learned from an instructor, so apprenticeships among mages, witches, and Valians were quite common.

I didn't know whether I should be honored or worried when Cage confessed that I was his first apprentice. 

"Now, magic is mostly about intent," the mage said, gesturing for me to turn the page as he did the same. "It's imperative to learn and memorize your lines and runes to perfect them, but a construct or a spell will often react to the intent of its wielder, becoming more powerful or potent. Willpower is the bread and butter of a magic user. Those who are weak of spirit have little hope of being successful." 

"Hmm...." I replied, thumbing the thick wedge of pages under my fingers. As a literature major, I had read my fair share of dry texts before, but there had to be almost five hundred more pages of magical theory I needed to get through. I sighed. I hadn't thought learning magic would be simple, per se, but I hadn't imagined it being this intensive.

Cage noted my wandering mind and had us skip ahead through some of the drier technical jargon. He stopped on a page with a large, detailed diagram upon it, a small grunt of satisfaction escaping his throat.

"Here. For an abbreviated lesson in magical theory, this will suffice." The mage held the book up to show the diagram to me, though I had one in my own book. The image was of three nesting circles. The inner two were not centered, but rather resting against the bottom of the largest circle as if they had fallen and settled there. The three circles could be drawn without ever lifting the pen from the page.

"This basic construct is where most constructs begin. It's the starting template, you could say." He traced his finger clockwise along the lines, spiraling inward until he ended where he had started. "If you can learn to properly set one of these, you'll understand the basics in no time at all."

I followed the mage's path in my own book, frowning as my finger brushed the inked lines of the circles. Was it really that easy? 

The cat abruptly hopped out of the shadows with a loud meow, startling Cage and me. It landed on my raised knee, its tail winging back and forth as it nosed the corner of the text. 

Cage's shocked expression instantly riled my nerves and had my mind on high alert. 

"What is this cat?" I asked him, waving at the feline in question. "Everyone looks at it strangely. It keeps following my around and popping up in the most inconvenient places. I haven't been able to find its owner anywhere."

"That would be because it doesn't have an owner, my apprentice. It's not a cat, it's a Druid."

"A what?" I eyed the creature warily, shooing it away. It hopped from my knee to floor and inspected the barrier separating Cage from me.

"A Druid. Not to be confused with Terrestrian druidism, mind you. They're creatures of spirit—of energy—that can manifest in whatever living form they wish." Cage very slowly extended his branded hand through the bars. The Druid sniffed his fingers, then turned its nose up, bored. "Immortal and immensely powerful, Druids are rare even in the Vale where they originate."

Immensely powerful? I pursed my lips with disbelief. "Really? Immensely powerful and it chases dust bunnies under the bed?"

Cage scoffed with reproach as the cat purred and rubbed against my leg. "They adopt the mannerisms of whatever creature they take the form of. Despite their power and immortality, the majority of the Druids lead passive, simple lives. They don't involve themselves in the complicated worlds of sentient beings, such as mankind. They exist in forms that allow them to pursue the most primal of their urges; eating, sleeping, and mating. I've heard that there are several Druids in their Order who exist solely as trees."

The Druid pawed at the floor as I turned to Cage, bewildered. "Are you telling me it chooses to be a cat because—what? I feed it and give it belly rubs?"

Cage grinned as he toyed with the ribbon at his throat. "Essentially, yes. Isn't that the life you'd like? Having no problems of your own, lazing about, being fed and petted and cooed over whenever you so desired?"

"Wouldn't it get boring?"

"Certainly. That's why they gravitate toward interesting people and interesting places. It placates their boredom." Cage smirked, a gleam coming to his dark eyes. "It speaks much of you that this one would attach itself to you."

I thought it more likely that the creature enjoyed being scratched behind the ears and fed on a whim than it thought me interesting.

"Do you know what its name is, by chance? I've just been calling it cat."

"Him, apprentice. Him."

"Do you know what his name is?"

"No." Cage shrugged, readjusting his grip upon his book. "You'll never know unless he deigns to take a form with vocal cords, or—."

The Druid meowed again, its white paw landing upon my arm. I glanced at him—then caught sight of the floor.

The name "LIONEL" was scratched onto the grimy stone.

"Lionel?" I queried as I dog-eared the page in my text and set it aside. The Druid purred, leaping into my lap, where it settled with his head propped upon my knee. "His name is...Lionel?"

Cage laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest as the corners of his eyes creased with amusement. "Lionel it is, then." He paused, passing the palm of his hand across the stubble on his chin. "You know...I think I've heard of him before...."

I hooked my thumbs beneath the Druid's arms and lifted him until his strange, bronze eyes were on the level with mine. "Why are you following me?" I asked him, narrowing my gaze with suspicion. What about me did the Druid find "interesting?" For what reason could he possibly be watching me?

The Druid leaned closer, bumping its nose against my own.

I lowered the cat to the floor once more. That was only answer I received.

It was later that evening that I sat beneath the wan light of the gloaming hour issuing through one of the study windows. Cage's primer was left on the floor at my side. I had my arms about my legs and my chin propped on my knee as I rested my eyes after hours of studying by candlelight.

I could infer that the text had been written by a mage for mages, as it assumed the reader was knowledgeable in certain aspects of the material that I wasn't. I had written my questions out for Cage and I knew he'd be more than willing to explain—but there were a lot of questions, and they kept multiplying. I had never had this problem before. I felt stupid, ignorant, and small.

The more I tried to understand this strange, shadowy world, the further I was pushed from it. I detested always having everything spelled out for me like I was a small, wide-eyed child. I hated always striving for more information in my quest to save Darius while I found nothing of relevance. I hated being lost.

The incident with the Druid in the dungeon was yet another factor in my self-pitying humiliation. Everyone else had known the cat wasn't a cat aside from me. Why hadn't I known? What essential spark did I lack? What facet of information was I missing? Why was I so damn blind?

In so many ways, hunting the Exordium had been exceedingly easier than my current dilemma. I hadn't had to do anything then. Darius, for all his mistakes and missteps, had been the one to find the last of those monsters while all I had done was wait and rely upon him.

I couldn't rely upon him now. I had only myself, and I found myself lacking. I had never found myself so lacking before.

Confused and irritable, I rose from the floor and brushed off the seat of my jeans after tossing the primer onto the nearby desk. My wound ached, the pain shooting through my ribs into my chest and spine. Grunting, I leaned against the window with one hand to my side and the other on the sill.

The ache relented in begrudged increments. I swore quietly, blinking through the moisture accumulating on my lashes.

Sometimes I just wished to be done with it. To be done with all of it.

Outside on the moors, torch-like streamers of light wavered and disappeared into the mist. I watched them as I dried my eyes and attempted to corral my wayward thoughts. The lights were bright in the din, moving and flickering as if they were being carried out beyond the scraggly willows and grave markers that burdened the land. The lights vanished somewhere to the east.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Startled, I whipped from the window to face the room. Anzel Vyus stood only a few feet away, his front touched by the colorless glow of the marshland. His flowing hair was gathered into a loose braid that trailed well past his broad shoulders, the tips of his ears poking out from the black strands. He was dressed well but casually, his black waistcoat unbuttoned over his emerald shirt, while his khaki slacks had creases about the knees.

He picked up Cage's book and observed the cover.

"I didn't hear you come in," I told him. The urge to yell at him for startling me rose, then died. I didn't have the wherewithal for an argument tonight.

"I'm light of foot." He set the book down before joining me at the window. "Is this what you've been doing all afternoon? Studying up here? Alone?"

"Yeah," I replied, not wishing to clarify. I sniffled and discreetly dabbed my wet face with the sleeve of my blouse.

Anzel stiffened but didn't question the dampness clinging to my skin or the red flush in my cheeks. To his credit, he didn't even question why I was studying from a mage textbook. The Vytian just watched me with frank curiosity, his thoughts unreadable behind the mirror of his eyes.

The breeze riled the moth-eaten curtains. Wolves howled in the mire. The ravens cawed.

Deliberately, he extended his hand and took my own. "Let's go." He started for the door with me in tow.

"W-what—where?" I said, dragging my feet on the uneven slats of the floor to slow the Vytian. "Where are you going?"

"We're going out there." Anzel lifted his chin to the open window and the distant sparks flaring in the all-consuming night. "Just for a while, at least."

Sighing, I allowed the Vytian to pull upon my arm and lead us from the study. The manor resounded with an eerie silence as we descended the spiral stairs and made our way to the foyer. I extracted my hand from Anzel's when we stepped from the front door and the first breath of the brackish air filled me.

I hadn't been outside in weeks. I tipped my head back to view the starless sky, observing my breath as it rose in paltry plumes and the crisp temperature bit at my fevered skin. Anzel paused at my side, the manor's door shutting with a surprisingly loud bang. The moon hung like a silver medallion on a velvet horizon, cloaked by the haze of fog and shadows. I grimaced, thinking of the sun and how I missed the unfettered touch of its rays.

I missed my home.

"This way," Anzel said, abandoning the road to strike his way through the gathered graves. I followed with my hands stuffed into my pockets, undeterred by the markers, the crumbling gray statues, or the beady-eyed birds perched within the withered trees. Unnerving as the scenery was, there were far more unnerving things within the manor then without.

As the Vytian and I strolled through the brush and bracken, those lights I had spied from the window gained definition. Above the snap and splash of our soft-soled shoes hunting for footholds came the first strains of song. Voices dithered in jubilant music, joined by the continuous rhythm of a drumbeat reverberating through the ground. It sounded like the heartbeat of the earth. The lights grew bright. Fire writhed and carelessly tossed its orange illumination.

"Anzel," I whispered, my fingers finding the fabric of his waistcoat's hem. "What is this?"

A bonfire burned and permeated the marsh with its smoky scent. Torches lined a clearing. The silhouettes of thin-limbed creatures roved around the crackling flames in dance. The beat of the drum thundered in my veins and stole my breath as the ephemeral sound of their voices cast in song trailed its fingertips over my very soul.

The Aos Sí laughed and danced in defiance of the gloom and the sinister shriek of black-feathered birds.

The Vytian was leading me closer.

"Anzel—," I hesitated, shaking my head to break the music's hold over me. "Should I be here? Isn't this some kind of party or...? I mean, I'm human so—."

With a sharp tug, he pulled me into the fire's ring of light and I stumbled into him. The earthy smell of the Vytian's magic was imbued in his muted clothing, a clear indicator of his time spent tinkering and casting in his cluttered lab. Anzel bent and pressed his smooth cheek to my own, his mouth coming near enough to be heard.

"Tomorrow you can go back to being human," he assured. "Tonight you will be what you are."

He laid his hand against the small of my back and abruptly moved aside. With a light shove, the Vytian prince pushed me into the circle of dancing faeries.

"Anzel!"

The warm light gleamed against his brilliant smile for just a moment—then the Vytian was whisked from view as I was pulled into the ongoing dance. Arms linked with mine and I stumbled, moving along with the flow despite my initial reflex to retreat.

I should have been irritated by Anzel's actions—but the elevated mood of the creatures surrounding me was infectious. The music seemed to breathe and move with us, and their singing was so exceedingly lovely it nearly brought me to tears.

The heat of the bonfire bathed my front and stole the night's ponderous shadows. Though I was clumsy and stiff, the strength in the arms looped through my own kept me upright and whirling with the others.

Unbidden, the thought of my sister came to me. She had loved to dance. In my place, Tara would have tossed back her golden curls and laughed with the rest of them, her joy a vivid and palpable thing.

God, I miss her.

Tears spilled from my lashes, but no one noticed. I didn't try to run away, but continued to dance with the faeries while the werewolves bayed in the bog and the ravens looked on.

In the face of such tenacious delight, the darkness of my life seemed to dim as if it, too, could be placated by the light of the bonfire. My losses and the cruelties I had endured didn't feel quite so heavy. My guilt over Tara's fate wasn't quite so crippling. When we spun so quickly the sensation of weightlessness took me, I laughed.

I hadn't laughed in weeks.

Their magic wove a mantle about our shoulders and in flowed through the clearing like a river of transparent silk. It sifted through my body, and I felt its glimmering strands twist and twine within me, tightening into a taut ribbon of power around my heart—and I knew then, without a doubt, that I had magic in my soul. Its energy pooled in my fingertips, burned in my smile, and traced my steps. They sang in a language I had never heard before, and yet I knew all the words.

I didn't know what I was. Indeed, I didn't know much about anything anymore, but I did know I had a spark of something in my soul and had a veil of shadow behinds my thoughts and both entities were mine. Mine.

For the first time in weeks, I wasn't hopeless. I was optimistic. I told myself I could save him. I could save that infuriating, red-eyed creature I owed my life to, that man I sought in my dreams and twisted myself into knots of worry over. He was a fool, a murderer, and a demon and I didn't care, because I was a fool, a murderer, and a creature with a silver-lined soul determined to save his life.

I wouldn't live long, but for tonight I was alive and was grateful for that.

They say faeries entrap mortals in dance and those mortals dance until they forget their lives entirely. They dance until they die.

I didn't think it was such a bad way to go. In fact, I was rather envious.