The next day, Cypur spent much of his time visiting Wescherlie mostly to assure himself that what he saw the night before was really a dream. Daero would be out most of the day and said he would return by noon, so Cypur chatted nonsense with Wescherlie or caught up with sleep.

After lunch, to let Wescherlie rest, he went out to the lake to enjoy the good weather. He couldn't remember the last time he sat and enjoyed the sun, the autumn season, and peaceful thoughts. Alone but not lonely. He stretched his legs out on the bank, letting his cape fan out behind him. The water glimmered, reflecting the afternoon light.

You forget where you are here.

Birds twittered, the sun warmed his skin, and it was like the perfect day. But a dark cloud hovered in his mind, shading his light. It wasn't a negative spiral. Reality was that he was still a wanted criminal, so even if they did end up getting to Zarkentauf and finding out about both their parents, he would still have to deal with clearing his name.

Ugh, life sucks. He lay back on the bank and closed his eyes to the bright sun, not ready to face that part of the world yet. If he could, he would stay here forever. An escape from reality.

A tap on his arm startled him awake. He opened his eyes with a yawn, wondering when he slipped off to sleep. Daero was peering over him, but soon disappeared from view. Clouds tinted with pinks and oranges sat in the still azure sky. After a few moments, a stone skipped four times across the lake.

"Done with your errands?" Cypur sat up and stretched. Sleep still hung behind his eyelids, threatening to pull him under again.

"For the most part," came Daero's reply after a short pause. Cypur turned to find him coming over to sit with him. "But ready to teach. What do you know about Archs?"

Archs were the highest rank a Sorcerer could get. Many were the founders of a lot of the values and aesthetic ethics Sorcerers followed today. At the grand auditorium at Academy, every Arch that existed, current or former, had their photograph or painting up in the back rafters. You could see them staring at you if you stood at the podium down on the stage.

"Many are considered great teachers. I do know they had a hand or paw in creating the portals." Cypur searched his brain for other information. "Two retired. One is considered the first Sorcerer to ever exist on Elgana. Out of the eight, only three married. For some stupid reason, they're all males."

Daero chuckled. "Human patriarchy invades." He picked up a rock and floated it in the air. "Did you know they asked me to join?"

"I bet they did." Cypur didn't know how strong Daero was, but he could tell the Kathula Sorcerer could easily rank Professor.

"But I refused. I don't like cliques or falsehoods."

"What are you getting at?" Cypur frowned. "Don't tell me they had a hand or paw in Fauds."

"They do. They hide the truth of what a Faud is for, what it means to be a Sorcerer, because they don't want to admit their mistakes. During times of turmoil, even Sorcerers made a mistake."

The history Cypur knew was clean. Sorcerers might have been involved in some wars, but they stayed out of it. They were bystanders most of the time and the other races were the ones causing problems. Sorcerers spent more time reforming their society, coming up with values and aesthetic ethics which they would loyally follow. They didn't go about killing citizens in war. War for no good reason was seen as going against aesthetic ethics and most wars were for no good reason.

"And barbaric," Cypur added, "we're taught Sorcerer history doesn't have barbaric things."

Daero let the stone fall to the ground. "Would you believe Sorcerer society fell once? Nearly destroyed. It was when none of the illegal magick was illegal. It was when possessive insanity ran wild. Sorcerers killing each other for want of power because their power was controlling them. Fauds were a way to separate that power into chunks for better control. Or you could say, put some magick aside, turn it into a creature, and help Sorcerers balance energy."

To Cypur, it sounded like Sorcerers didn't always have Fauds. He stared hard at the ground, trying to comprehend. "Well, damned starlights, they gave me such trouble at school about it and it's not even natural?"

"Well, they should have allowed you to develop. The Archs," Daero said and Cypur felt his world turn upside down. It sounded like the Archs were controlling his life. But that was absurd!

Daero continued. "When you are toddlers, they inject potion in your bodies by needle or food to help you create a Faud. Me?" He chuckled. "I had to create it myself."

Cypur couldn't smile at that. These Archs were experimenting on him! Delayed injection. Deliberately making his life miserable to see what his magick would do. And when he was ripe enough, they were going pick his magick away for themselves.

"They didn't inject me? At all? The Archs?"

Daero shrugged. "That I don't know. They could have later on. And it could have been in your food, your drink, as long as you ingest it." He gave a long sigh. "I hate to say this, but you might have been—"

"And the one in charge?" Cypur said. "You know who it was."

Daero's tailtip twitched and he hid the tip in his paw. Cypur already knew that was either annoyance or frustration. "A former Arch along with two Professor ranks created the project of making Fauds. He thought it was for the best. A good Sorcerer, really. Wanting to help, not control. As time went on, Sorcerers like Brevelord-Precense hor Brevelord, exceptional ones developed a Faud on their own because their parents had the injection still working in the genetics. Sorcerers with learning disabilities would need extra injection, but most, by the time you were born, needed only one or none."

"And they did that to help balance the magick. To help control it. That's why mine was out of control. I was exceptional, but not developing like Precense. I was different, so they just watched to see when it would explode." Cypur realized his unusual case of golden magick made him good experiment material.

Daero sighed and nodded, ears drooping. "I'm sorry to say you were the guinea pig here. The Arch was merely trying to help, but the two Professors coerced him into doing experiments he didn't want to. Doubt your parents knew."

He went on to talk about Danisilus rí Charmteller, the lead Arch in the Faud project who also had a famous story of being the only Arch who was exiled. According to Daero, for killing an entire Sorcerer village for the purpose of racial cleansing.

"Allegedly," he emphasized. "There's only record he participated. You'll probably find those in the High Collection Sorcerer faction archives if you're curious. They keep all records of who and how many a Sorcerer killed if they ever did."

"But what's that got to do with me today?" Cypur asked.

Daero smiled. "Oh, no real reason other than to shed some light on your predicament. I thought you'd like to know. Allegedly he was coerced into doing your experiment. Allegedly, exiled to Earth, Human's home planet for his killings. No idea why police didn't sentence him to death. Maybe because he was the one who created the Faud system? They might need his knowledge one day?"

Mixed feelings. Cypur thought. Charmteller might not have wanted to experiment. But if he still went through with it, that wouldn't put him in the 'good guy' category, would it?

Daero held out his paw. "Come on, it's Faud time."

Soon, Cypur was ushered back into the barn with the vaulted ceiling, tall stables in the back. His Faud lay on top of Ryerden but when Cypur approached, it snapped open its eyes and squeaked. Ryerden rumbled.

"Come, let's leave them to it," Daero called.

Cypur turned in alarm. "Leave us to what? What are we supposed to do?"

But Daero and Ryerden had vanished leaving only a faint trace of yellow and azure sparkles behind. Cypur turned back to his Faud. Dark blue scales with big googly eyes looking up at him, tongue lolling out, and legs placed strangely out to the side. It squeaked and squealed, but no words were coming out. Not that he expected it to talk. Ryerden didn't talk either.

Spotting a stool, he gestured it over. The Faud let out a squeak and scampered backwards, bumping into the wall, and tumbling over onto its back. It looked at Cypur upside down. Its tongue lolled out and touched the ground. The Faud flailed its arms and stumpy legs until it was able to roll over and stand up. It then proceeded to stare at Cypur as if expecting him to do something.

So, now this Faud and I, we're the aftermath of an experiment.

Injection or no injection, he had a Faud today and needed to figure out how to fix damage done. He knew Daero had given him hints with how he interacted with Ryerden. They were communicating, maybe even talking. Could it be telepathy? Sorcerers couldn't do telepathy although many tried, but what if they could with their Fauds because they were connected somehow?

Cypur held out his hand, focused on his Faud, imagined he was sending the words to his Faud's head. With a deep breath, he thought, Come here.

Nothing happened. Of course, not. It was absurd to think and besides, he hadn't completely forgiven his Faud for running rampage and painting him as a mass murderer. What good would that do for either of them?

Maybe I don't need you. He rested his chin in his hands and glanced down at his laced black boots. His feet were inverted like how little kids or females often sit. Scowling at himself, he faced them out to opposite directions and then felt like an old man, so then he maneuvered them inverted. Back and forth, back and forth. The Faud was just watching him, cocking its head left, right, back and forth.

It was the moves of steppenchellia. Toes pointed inwards and then outwards. A traditional Sorcerer's dance always to the beat of drums and clapping of hands to the rhythm. It was the dance he helped Arius with before Carnival. The only reason he could do it was to teach Arius.

And then I had a knack for it. He smirked and clapped his hands.

One-two, and three. Four-five, and six. Taking the side of his cape in one hand, he walked slowly crisscrossing his feet back and forth twice. Then he stopped. Left foot stomp, and then right.

Left right left. Right left right, stop, and keep feet together. He noticed the Faud was stomping its own feet in the rhythm. Cypur raised a brow. Maybe this was it. It was as if he was making a friend, connecting over a similar like.

The Faud stomped its two front legs the same as Cypur, following his moves. Never did he expect to be dancing steppenchellia in a barn with a Faud.

"Yah, tata ta!" he said and clapped his hands in the special rhythm. The Faud thumped its tail the same. Cypur stomped part way and the Faud finished the beat. When Cypur skipped down the stable hall through the hay and dust, still keeping to the rhythm, the Faud stomped with all four of his chunky legs steadily after him.

A grin spread across his face, and he tried to erase it, reminding himself he was angry with his Faud, but it was simply fun to dance around like this. Cypur twirled in place, letting his cape fan out behind. The Faud twirled and fell over but soon got up.

"One-two, and three! Last-one, to go!" Cypur tapped his feet on the hard dirt ground as fast as he could go. The Faud was right beside him kicking up a dust storm.

"Yah!" he said, and a voice squeaked the same.

One final stomp of feet with a pose of heads lifted as if in a Narsy moment was overshadowed with the realization that the Faud just spoke. Cypur slowly turned his head to the equally shocked, wide-eyed Faud. A high-pitched 'yah' lingered in his ears.

"You talk?"

"I guess I do."

They both skidded away from each other when the Faud talked again. It was like the voice of a little boy. It took a moment for them to come out of their shock. Was this normal? Did all Fauds learn to talk in perfect Universal without any practice?

At once, the Faud's dark blue scales shimmered with a golden light and a tingle of magick traveled up and down Cypur's arms. Instinctively he knew they were connected. Golden magick glowed underneath his shirt, warming his chest. The Faud turned into a swirl of golden sparkles and disappeared inside.

So, we're connected now.

Not really.

It was so strange to hear a voice in your head that wasn't your own. Cypur scratched his head. It made him feel itchy somehow.

We're not really connected, the Faud continued. There's some more growing your magick has to do. I have little idea how though.

Not even a guess?

But Cypur's voice rang empty in his head. The Faud had left the room.

Why did you murder citizens? He tried, but there was no answer. Not that it would have made much of a difference. They were killers now.

"Looks like you made contact and connection," Daero said when Cypur emerged from the barn. The day was dipping into night, and he could smell some buttery dinner, making his stomach growl. Ryerden was flying over the main hall and vanished. Tiny sparkles of yellow and green rode the breeze and slipped into Daero's chest.

"You had fun?" he said and clapped his paws in that rhythm. Had he been spying? Eavesdropping? No one except Wescherlie and Arius were allowed to see or hear him do steppenchellia. There was no good reason as to why he felt this way. Maybe invaded would be a good word.

Warmth touched Cypur's cheeks, and he stomped up the hill. Couldn't Daero just keep to himself? Didn't he know something about closed doors and privacy?

Daero caught up with him. "Hey, don't be mad. I didn't mean to spy on you. I had to make sure you were doing okay and if anything happened—"

"You were spying. No ifs or buts." Cypur crossed his arms.

"Sorry," Daero shrugged, but he didn't sound sorry, "you're good."

Suddenly, Wescherlie's voice came into his mind. She'd said, 'and not a thank you from their mouths' or something along those lines. Sorcerers craved praise, but hated it when citizens secretly watched them do things they were proud of. Instead of being sneaky, why not be open?

Cypur sighed knowing that it was weird to be thinking this way. Why couldn't he just say 'thank you'? He chewed his lip and turned to Daero. It wasn't too late, was it?

"Thank you," he said in a quiet voice. With a soft chuckle, Daero put his arm around Cypur's shoulders as they walked back.

At long last, Cypur was like every Sorcerer. A small part of him didn't like how relieved it made him feel to be like other Sorcerers. He learned to be himself and didn't need a Faud to define his Sorcerer-ness.

"Feels good to have control, doesn't it?" Daero clapped him on the back with a trill.

Cypur called out a wind spell with more ease now than ever, sending leaves tumbling up the hill. He took in the chill of the air, the dark gray or indigo smudges of clouds like an oil painting on a vast blackening canvas, and the twinkling stars. His magick sat contented within him and he knew, for the most part, he and Faud would be okay.