The door opened and closed. The sofa shifted beneath Iris as a weight settled beside her. A hand settled on her head, stroking her hair, and Iris' heart froze in her chest. That touch was not Char's.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, keeping her face in her hands. "I'm just not good at lying. Please don't hurt the fairies. I really tried."

A deep chuckle followed her rushed torrent of words. "Sweet little Iris." The mage brushed her hair back away from her ear and leaned in, his breath hot on her skin. "Char seems to be under the impression that I'm pushing you too hard with our magic lessons."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Was that good enough? Did that mean the fairies were safe? She slowly pulled her hands away from her face and looked up at him. He wasn't disguised as Jonah anymore. His frigid blue eyes were hard and inscrutable; his smirk could mean anything. He was still stroking her hair. She swallowed hard, afraid to speak, afraid that saying the wrong thing would end in harm for the fairies.

"Smile and wave, Iris."

Right. Char would look for her through the window again when he took off. She wasn't done. She took a deep breath and turned to face the window, searching for him down below. The snow was melting, revealing patches of dead, brown grass. Leaves were falling from the trees, shocked from their branches by the unseasonably cold weather, forming piles of death along the forest floor. It was all wrong. Outside was wrong. The smile she plastered on her face when she saw Char was wrong. The mage sitting beside her, positioned just out of Char's sight, was wrong. She watched Char fly away, taking her heart and any sense of hope with him, and she buried her face in the back of the sofa. The mage was stroking her hair again.

"You didn't wave, Iris."

"I didn't last time," she replied, trembling under his touch.

"Where is the book he gave you?"

She forced herself to turn around and look past him to the spot where Char had left the book. "It was right there."

The mage clicked his tongue. "Naughty little fairies."

"N-not necessarily," Iris said quickly, looking up at him in a panic. "They're always putting things away and tidying up. I-I'm sure they weren't trying to hide it from you."

His hand cupped her cheek, and she flinched.

"And even if they were, you'd rather I punish you instead, wouldn't you?"

She nodded hesitantly.

He held out his other hand and snapped, and a fairy immediately appeared, opening a bureau drawer and rushing the hidden book to his waiting hand.

"Open it," he commanded Iris, dropping it in her lap.

She did so with trembling fingers, shivering as his hand left her cheek to resume combing through her hair.

"I-it's a record of all the orphans Father John raised," she said, showing him the first page. "He's been doing this for fifty years. Or...or, he had been doing it for fifty years..."

The book fell in her lap as she covered her face to hide her tears. Its weight left her lap, there was a quick whoosh of flames, and she knew he'd destroyed it. Because he wanted her isolated and alone. The book was a connection to her past, and it had to go. Char would have to go, too, eventually. She knew that, and she knew she couldn't let the mage kill Char, but she was powerless to stop him. At least Char was still useful, as long as the mage could hold him over her head to make her behave.

"It's time, Iris."

The mage's fingers slid down her arm to her hand, and he stood, pulling her to her feet. She wiped her eyes and nose and kept her face downcast to the floor, not daring to look around for the fairies, not daring to look up at him, following obediently at his side as he led her out the door and up the spiral staircase. Every step took her closer to the torment she knew was coming. The amulet was unbearably heavy around her neck. She wished she could wrench it off and hand it over to the mage so he would just kill her and be done with this.

The centerpiece of the study was the stone table. She had to jump to get on it. Every instinct was screaming at her to run, to forget the fairies and save herself, but she sat still, her legs dangling off the edge of the table. The mage walked in silence to a row of shelves lined with various liquids in jars, bottles, and vials. He selected a small vial filled with a clear fluid and brought it to a wooden desk piled high with books and papers. A pitcher and a glass sat atop a tray in the center of the mess. He poured from the pitcher first, a substance that appeared to be water, and maybe it was. Then he uncapped the vial and tipped a single drop into the glass. A cloud of red smoke rose from the surface of the combined liquids, and when it dissipated, the glass held a rich burgundy liquid. He carried it over to her, and she took it with trembling fingers.

"What...does this do?" she asked hesitantly.

"It keeps you alive throughout the process," he replied coolly. "Without it, you would die instantly. It took many attempts to perfect this potion."

She knew what that meant. Many attempts; many lives. She forced herself to drink the entire glass. At least the potion wasn't bitter or foul-tasting. It was cool and refreshing, like biting into watermelon on a hot summer day. She handed it back to him and felt all sense of control over her body vanish. He maneuvered her into place as he had before, strapping her down to the table.

"Permission and trust," he mused. "So vitally important. I learned that with my first human subject." He chuckled. "Little Alana. She showed great potential as a mage, and she never suspected her devoted older brother would want to bring her harm. But I didn't take her far enough out into the wilderness. Our parents heard her screaming. Not that it mattered much. I was done with them, too." His hand caressed her cheek. "I can see why you reminded Jonah of Alana. You have the same sweetness and innocence about you."

Iris' wide eyes stared up at the mage's dead, cold gaze. His pupils were fully dilated, ready to devour her like he devoured his sister. His parents.

"I never did properly introduce myself to you, did I?" he asked, dragging his fingers across her prone body to the amulet. "My name is Micah."

Heat radiated from the amulet, and Iris squeezed her eyes shut as her heart burst into flames again, as the darkness reached out for her.

"Jonah's older brother."

The flames were burning her alive, from the inside out, snaking through her veins to the tips of her fingers and toes, rending her asunder. She writhed and screamed on the outside, but she knew what to do this time. Inside, in her mind, she fought and struggled to find the whispers, and once she found them, she clawed her way through the abyss to reach them. They took her by the hand, pulling her free from the pain and agony, up out of her body, up into the sky above the tower.

Iris, it is time for the crystal to go home.

Where? she asked. Where do I need to take it?

Come.

She followed through the sky, east, over the dark, snow-covered forest until the treeline broke and they reached the plains. There was no snow here, but the grass was dead and brown, trampled underfoot by cattle stamping and pawing at the ground to find a bit of greenery for sustenance. She stopped to look at them, her heart breaking. Their ribs were showing, and they were lowing pitifully. This wasn't right.

It's over, Iris. Time to go back.

The scenery flew by so quickly it was a blur, and then she was back in her own body, feeling the searing pain that left her limp and helpless, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Micah dropped the amulet and patted her cheek again.

"Another hour. I didn't expect you to tolerate another long session so soon after the first." He started unstrapping her, still talking. "But you are so motivated to please me, aren't you? To keep your precious little fairies safe."

He scooped her into his arms and carried her away. The sweat was drying on her body, making her shiver, each involuntary movement sending another wave of fire through her.

"Compassion. Such a useless emotion, and so easily taken advantage of. It made Jonah easy to find out here in his tower surrounded by enchanted forests full of magical creatures. He was trying to save them from me, and he made himself a target. But I needed to finish the job, didn't I? I let him go once, when he fled our home to seek safety with Father John." He laughed. "You should have seen the look on Jonah's face when he came to the magic school and was assigned as a junior apprentice to my master. The shock, hatred, and revulsion. And the hopelessness, because I was already so powerful that nobody dared to even question me, let alone try to stop me."

He lay her on her bed, sitting beside her again, brushing her hair back from her face. "Compassion is your weakness, Iris. It makes you soft and pliable. Cast it aside, and there may be a chance for you to escape from me." He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Of course, if you fail in the attempt, you know what will happen, don't you?"

He stood up and patted her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning, Iris. Be a dear and try to be conscious for me."