Once the sound of nocturnal howling had ended and Katherine had settled. Lira had handed her off to Abbie and Arnold’s machinations.

  The Nightblades on the other hand were released to Lira’s maledictions. Lira herself couldn’t cast magic anymore apart from a singular ritual to commune with her patron. Given the fact of the zealous fervor that the two nightblades had stalked Katherine, presumably to do worse than what Katherine had done to them, she had cemented her decision to cut off the coven to possibly never practice magic again.

  Taking a knife from her belt. She plunged it into the male Nightbalde’s shoulder. He let out a howl as the tip struck the bone. “So, tell me, of what part would tell you she is a traditional deathwalker?” she asked, trying her best not to twist the blade—even though she really wanted to do so. “Was it the fact she got the drop on you? The fact her illusions though vivid and life like? Or was it the wailing that can cause both the creatures of above and below shed their tears?”

  “It is an omen,” he growled through. “Even a moongazed like you know that fact.”

  “I do,” Lira agreed, giving in and twisting the hilt of the blade. “I also know that she is alone in a world she does not fully understand, with abilities that she barely understands. The only thing that makes her at ease when she does not feel threatened is taking care of her familiars.” She pulls out blade stabbing it into the male nightblade’s thigh. “Two of which are now afraid of her.”

  “She is an abomination,” the nightblade spat, ending the sentiment by spitting on the ground by Lira’s feet.

  Arnold had stepped away from Katherine as the depth of his knowledge in magical healing was insufficient to help at the moment, giving Abbie control. Although he had noticed an oddity that he had seen in Katherine before and was still in her but was willing to wait to talk to her privately about it. Roland had gone to check on Shade and Luna as their states could shed some insight into Katherine condition and how she was able to pull off such elaborate skill.

  Shade was physically fine. Mentally, he was shaken. Roland knew the story on how Shade became Katherine’s familiar and had taught her some exercises to help keep feedback loops to a minimum. Now, Shade was shaking as if he was a cub scared of the world around him.

  Luna was in the worst shape of the two familiars. Laying on her side, unconscious, her form still. Roland placed a hand on her to get an understanding of what was wrong with her. She did not look hurt: no cuts, no bruising under her fur. Just mana exhaustion, luckily that is easily treatable— if costly. He wondered how Katherine was able to collect the rare and expensive familiars so easily when a simple fire elemental was easy to take care of.

  Lira had decided to hold off on more forced interrogation techniques. As she became increasingly frustrated with how zealous the responses were. She walked over to Roland

  “How are they?” she asked, looking between Shade and Luna.

  “Shade seems to only be frightened,” Roland acknowledged, nodding towards Shade for the moment before turning back to Luna. “She on the other hand has mana exhaustion. Nothing too serious, but enough to leave her drained some rest will do some good. How’s Katherine?”

  “Somehow resting,” Lira pointed out, turning for the briefest moment to look in her direction. Her tone was more subdued and investigative than normal. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I don’t see why not?” he admitted as he started pulling items from a pouch he had brought with him.

  “How large is your mana supply, as a tamer?” Lira asked.

  “If I was only a tamer not very, I do have other abilities that help me get a larger pool than most honestly it depends on the tamer, why?”

  “Could you do what she did? There is at least a good dozen of levels between you and her.” Lira pointed out. “But she just created a desert inside of a warehouse, under a violent storm.”

  “When I was at her level,” Roland commented with a small snort to conceal his momentary laughter. “I could sneeze and my abilities would fail. Didn’t matter what it was.”

  “Generally speaking, she shouldn’t have been able to do either without causing herself irreparable harm. The fact that she is only resting—I’m assuming from exhaustion— is inconceivable.”

  Lost in her thoughts Lira thought of ways for Katherine to feel an edge of control as it seems that her magic was in the realms of out of her control. The guild is probably best for her. It can also make it hard for people to find her. It will help her put all those weapons to good use.

  ...

  Katherine moved through the town in a daze, recognizing familiar landmarks from the place she had called home for months. Each street and corner called up memories, but everything felt distant, almost unreal.

  It wasn’t until she spotted Sparky near the stoop of the dorm building that something in her finally sparked to life. This was the first time he had willingly ventured out from his artificial lair on his own, and Katherine made a mental note to ask him about it later. Sparky was curled up as if waiting for her, his body tense and alert.

  As she approached, Sparky snapped at her, releasing a powerful bolt of lightning that echoed like a thunderclap, far louder than his small size suggested. Her heart raced as the sound reverberated through the air, but relief washed over her when she realized Sparky hadn’t meant to hurt her—her resistance to stunning attacks, thanks to their bond, shielded her from harm.

  It took Sparky a moment to comprehend what he’d done. Nestkeeper, you finally came; he crowed in her mind, his voice sounding like a child with a scraped knee, vulnerable and needy.

  Katherine gently reached for Sparky, unaware that he was protecting an injured wing. As she lifted him, her hand brushed against the delicate limb, and Sparky let out a sharp shriek of pain.

  “I’m sorry,” Katherine whispered soothingly, holding him close to her chest. “Tell me where it hurts.”

  My sky-flapper, Sparky whimpered, his one visible eye brimming with tears that threatened to fall.

  Katherine stared down at Sparky, realizing she knew next to nothing about lizards—let alone a dragon like him. Roland was just as lost; the estate’s closest creatures to Sparky were amphibians like salamanders and eels, not exactly useful references for what she faced now.

  Still, Katherine tried to apply the basics she remembered from school biology classes. She examined Sparky’s wing, carefully running her fingers along the delicate joint. The way it drooped unnaturally caught her attention. She gently probed around the area, searching for any signs of cuts or bruising. Nothing seemed broken, which was a relief, but the joint didn’t sit quite right. It looked swollen and out of place, and Katherine wondered if it might be a dislocation rather than a sprain or strain.

  “Alright, Sparky. This is going to hurt,” she murmured, her voice soft as she worked to calm him. Hoping to keep the situation under control, she glanced at Roland for help. “Can you hold him steady for me?”

  Though Sparky was only the size of her palm, Katherine knew his claws could do serious damage if he panicked. Roland responded with a gentle touch, pressing his hand against Sparky’s back, careful not to add any pressure that might distress him further.

  Katherine took a steadying breath and focused on Sparky’s injured wing. With slow, deliberate movements, she pulled on the wing to realign the joint. A sudden pop echoed, followed by Sparky’s pained squeal, but Katherine could see the wing now sat more naturally, even as inflammation lingered. Sparky instinctively tried to claw her hand, forcing Katherine to quickly and gently set him down on the porch, relieved that the worst seemed to be over.

  A treat works just as good for that. Sparky whined. Can I get a sticker?

  Apparently, Lira could hear the thought or was going off the body language, due to her light chuckle.

  “No, you can’t get a sticker,” Katherine said before realizing she said the inside part out loud. “They don’t have stickers here.”

  ...

  “So, that is why you always hunched over,” Katherine commented, sitting across Abbie with her wings still visible.

  “Yeah,” she said a bit sheepishly. “It keeps the young ones from pulling out my feathers. Springtime is bad enough I don’t need children helping my molting along.”

  Katherine thought about bird habits in terms of molting and decided better of it.

  “What?” Abbie asked

  “I would ask, but given the company,” Katherine started her gaze shifting from Abbie to the three men in the common room of the workers’ dorms. Roland—Abbie’s stepfather, Arnold who was only there because he was offered tea, and Archbishop Sorren who seemed to have his appointment with Katherine. Katherine believed it was for using her illusions in his place of worship. “I don’t think it would appropriate.”

  “I appreciate that,” Roland admitted, in the face only fathers can give when the topic of their child’s love life gets brought up.

  The archbishop cleared his throat. “Katherine, I do believe we need to have a frank discussion.”

  “I’m assuming it was using my abilities in your temple?” she asked not caring about the audience, but her tone was a bit regretful that she had done it.

  “You what?” they all asked.

  Katherine looked around at everyone. Having her feeling that using powers in a temple was generally a taboo confirmed.

  “So the information you told me was a lie?” Sorren asked, trying to keep the accusation out of his tone. “About Clark, was that a lie? Did you really watch him die?”

  The answer did not come from Katherine, but Lira in a soft and small voice. “No, that wasn’t a lie,” Lira said, replaying the horrific memory in her head. She still hadn’t gotten the smell of what Katherine called gunpowder out of her nose. “She did know Clark. She was there when he died.” Her voice was getting louder now. “Believe me Archbishop, if you saw what she... what we saw you would not doubt her. Heard the sounds she made You wouldn’t question her. Try it again and I will remove you myself.”

  Sorren knew it was a bluff, but the look in her eyes told him that she really would. He cleared his throat again. “I mean your abilities and the safety of this town. I have a feeling that the storm earlier was created by you or specifically your familiar.”

  “Sparky can barely create static shocks,” Katherine said, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Sparky’s back. He trilled in protest, clearly displeased by her words, but Katherine kept her expression guarded. She recalled his earlier burst of lightning, a reminder that he was more capable than she let on. Distrust lingered in her eyes as she glanced at Sorren, the memory of his persistent questioning making her wary of revealing too much.

  Sorren raised his palms in a placating gesture, his voice calm. “I am not accusing you of anything. As most of you know—except perhaps Miss Monroe—my church is also responsible for public safety.” He shifted his gaze to Katherine, studying her reaction. “Given your remarkable skill at calling storms, I suggest you consider becoming an adventurer. Leaving the city could offer you new opportunities, and the guild provides recognized employment across the world.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Katherine stiffened at the proposal, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and defensiveness. The idea of leaving the city unsettled her; she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the dangers beyond its walls, nor leave behind the fragile security she’d found here. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed protectively. “So you want me to run?” she asked, her words edged with suspicion, searching Sorren’s face for hidden motives.

  “No,” Sorren replied quickly, hands raised to emphasize his sincerity. “I’m not asking you to run. I’m suggesting you consider another shield for yourself. Lady Wynford’s influence can only protect you so far, but as an adventurer, the guild can offer you another layer of safety that she cannot.” His tone was gentle, but there was an urgency behind his words, a plea for compromise in the name of the town’s safety.

  A tense silence settled over the room. Abbie’s fingers tightened around her mug; concern flickered in her eyes as she glanced anxiously at Arnold. He met her gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Both had tended to Katherine’s wounds before, and neither liked the idea of her diving into even greater peril.

  Noticing Abbie’s discomfort, Roland leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he addressed Sorren. His voice was gentle but firm, seeking clarity. “We assume you have a specific proposition in mind. Are you suggesting she join a party?”

  Sorren nodded, a hint of hope in his eyes. “I have a few options. If you’re interested, Katherine, come by the church when you’re ready. We can discuss it further.” He offered a reassuring smile, trying to ease the tension in the room.

  ...

  “You think I have something inside me that’s usually deadly, but so far it hasn’t harmed me?” Katherine asked Arnold, her words edged with nervous curiosity. They stood in the quiet of Katherine’s room, a rare moment of privacy for the conversation she suspected Arnold had been dreading.

  Arnold’s brow furrowed with concern, and he took a careful breath before answering, his voice gentler than usual. “It’s not that simple, but yes,” he admitted reluctantly. “Crystalized mana networks tend to form when someone uses too much mana without knowing how to control it. That’s why you often see it in rookie spellcasters who overdo things. But from what I’ve observed, you don’t push your mana usage to that extreme—unless something about your origins is different.” He paused, searching her face for signs of understanding. “Think of it like a butcher draining blood to make the meat freeze faster—except here, it’s mana accumulating in a way that shouldn’t happen unless the environment is unusual.”

  Katherine hesitated, feeling a flicker of anxiety at Arnold’s words. She forced herself to keep her tone steady as she explained, “Each familiar I gain uses a little mana to create the bond, but after that, it’s the soul that maintains it, from what I can sense. As for actual spells, I only have a few that use mana. Most of my abilities are passive—like sensing threats or basic proficiencies. Nothing that should be straining my magic.”

  Arnold nodded, but there was a thoughtful crease in his brow. “Then it’s likely something about where you come from,” he said quietly, his concern evident. “Maybe the mana there is so concentrated that it crystalized as you grew older. The magic users there must be incredibly strong.”

  Katherine felt a pulse of discomfort at the reminder that Arnold didn’t know the full truth about her origins. She kept that secret close, afraid of what it would mean if she let it slip.

  Trying to redirect the conversation, she asked, “Will this affect my familiars?” Her voice betrayed a hint of worry, her gaze drifting to Sparky’s sleeping form.

  “In general, it shouldn’t impact them much,” Arnold replied, his tone reassuring. “Though it looks like Sparky might be drawing mana from you, whether he means to or not. I’d suggest you two talk about it—or see if Roland has advice on any side effects. I’m not an expert on magical creatures.”

  After Arnold left, she took his advice and spoke with Roland. He reassured her that Sparky might simply grow a bit faster, develop stronger magical abilities for his size and age, or experience both changes. Roland told her not to worry about these possibilities.

  He did, however, warn her to keep an eye on Sparky’s horde. As Sparky gets older, his collection will only increase in size—and he might even turn to mischievous schemes to make it grow.

  ...

  Late the following evening, Katherine sat in a chair on the porch of the dorms, sipping at what the other residents loudly called “boat cleaner” and “gut-rot.”

  Sparky lay curled up on her shoulder as they listened to the soft drizzle of rain tapping on the roof.

  “May I join you?” came an expected voice.

  Without opening her eyes, Katherine gestured to the empty chair beside her. “Go ahead,” she said, letting the sound of the rain fill the lull.

  A creak from the chair signaled that the owner of the voice had grabbed the liquor bottle beside her.

  Katherine heard the hint of a raised eyebrow as Lira read the label aloud. “Silver Tongue Distillery—not something I would recommend.”

  Katherine shrugged. “They have some good stuff. Fair warning, though: that is not one of the good ones. That bottle will put hair on your chest.” She cracked one eye open, curious to see Lira’s reaction. The look on Lira’s face was priceless.

  Lira stared at the bottle, almost horrified. “Why would you drink that?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

  Katherine let her head loll toward Lira, the effects of the alcohol making her words slow and slightly slurred. “It’s a figure of speech,” she explained, a lazy grin forming on her lips. “Means it’s strong. Go on—take a swig.” She nudged the bottle forward, her eyes half-lidded but mischievous.

  Lira hesitated, then lifted the bottle to her lips. The moment the liquid hit her tongue, she recoiled, coughing and nearly spraying the porch. “Katherine, that’s not alcohol—that’s paint thinner!” she sputtered, wiping her mouth and glaring good-naturedly at Katherine.

  Katherine laughed, the sound fading as her mood shifted. She glanced down at her glass, swirling the contents before speaking more quietly. “Abbie told me you stood up to your coven. Told them to shove it.”

  “I did,” Lira admitted, reaching out to steady Katherine’s arm as the conversation grew more serious. Her grip was firm, anchoring them both. “And I’d do it again, if I had to. I don’t believe what they say about you. Sure, you’re rough around the edges, and yeah, you can be cruel, calculating, ruthless even. But you always have a reason.” Her voice was resolute, her gaze steady on Katherine’s face.

  Katherine blinked, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. She looked up at Lira, her expression softening. “You really know how to talk to a woman,” she teased, the ‘paint thinner’ loosening her tongue. “I hope you find a way to be happy, Lira. You deserve that much.”

  Lira’s cheeks flushed at the compliment. She looked away, a small, shy smile appearing as she rose to her feet. “Alright, I think it’s time for you to get some sleep,” she said, collecting herself while gently taking Katherine’s arm.

  Katherine clung stubbornly to her glass, shaking her head. “Not a chance, Lira Wynford,” she protested, though her grip was slipping. She paused, her gaze distant as she listened to the rain. “Enjoy the little moments with people,” she said quietly, her words tinged with nostalgia. “They don’t last forever.”

  Katherine’s advice, for all its wisdom, was delivered with her usual blend of seriousness and sharp wit—a mix that made her unpredictable, yet oddly comforting.

  She tried to focus, her words growing harder to understand. “Trust someone who’s been there,” she slurred, struggling to form the words. “You’re a good woman, Lira. Find someone who’d burn the world for you, and spoil you with the little surprises.”

  Lira’s cheeks burned even brighter at the second compliment; she looked away, flustered but smiling as she slipped an arm around Katherine’s shoulders and gently helped her to her feet. “Alright, let’s get you to bed,” she said, her tone soft but determined.

  Katherine grumbled in protest, but the fight had left her; she let Lira steady her, leaning into her friend as the world spun lazily behind her eyelids.

  ...

  Lira, after all the time she’d spent with Katherine, still struggled to truly understand her. The rumors swirling about Katherine and Corin lingered in her thoughts, but that was all they were—rumors, nothing more. As they made their way down the hallway, Lira stumbled, but managed to steady herself before they both toppled over. Katherine was only a little taller, but her compact build made supporting her unexpectedly difficult.

  “Alright, Kat, just a little further,” Lira whispered, glancing around the common room to make sure everyone had already gone to bed.

  Katherine’s room opened to reveal a familiar landscape: one side lined with weapons, the other scattered with makeshift habitats for her familiars. Lira gently lowered her friend onto the bed, then carefully lifted Sparky from Katherine’s shoulder and set him at the entrance to his tiny cave, nestled beside the beginnings of his hoard.

  A hard thud and a soft groan behind her made Lira turn. Katherine had tumbled from the bed, landing in a crumpled heap. Her eyes slid closed as she began to snore quietly. For a moment, Lira paused, watching her friend’s face relax in sleep—so rarely unguarded. The sight stirred an unexpected tenderness in her; it was rare to see Katherine let down her defenses enough to be vulnerable. She carefully helped Katherine back onto the bed, smoothing the blankets and removing her boots before tucking her in. Lira lingered, feeling the weight of trust that came with being allowed to stay in these moments.

  As she headed for the door, Luna suddenly blocked her path. Can you stay? For her? Luna’s voice echoed telepathically in Lira’s mind, clear and distinct from the quiet of the room.

  Lira blinked, startled by the sensation. Why? she asked warily, unsure of Luna’s motives.

  She needs comfort now—more than claws. She’s still more claw and fang than fluff. She is more like me than Shade. Luna’s words came in rolling metaphors, her tone both gentle and fierce, urging Lira to see the need beneath the surface.

  Lira took a moment to process the meaning, realizing that Luna did not want Katherine to be alone tonight. She returned to the bed, settling beside her friend but remaining above the covers, careful not to intrude more than necessary. Katherine, even in sleep, reached out—rolling over and trapping Lira with an arm and leg, anchoring her in place.

  Great, she’s a sleeping beast, Lira groaned inwardly as Katherine snored softly in her ear. Despite the inconvenience, Lira felt an unexpected comfort in being needed, grateful for the rare glimpse of closeness between them.

  ...

  Katherine woke up with a pounding headache, her stomach churning, and the unmistakable smell of cooked, fatty meat wafting through the room. She groaned, blinking against the morning light, and opened one eye to take in her surroundings. The bedside table, usually within easy reach, had been pushed aside. On top of it sat a plate piled high with meat, but a faint shimmer—like ripples in glass—hinted that the plate was wrapped in some kind of magical barrier.

  Sparky was already at the plate, his little claws clicking against the table as he tried to reach the food. Each time he lunged, his snout bounced harmlessly off the invisible shield. With a frustrated trill that resonated in Katherine’s aching head, he protested, I can’t get the meat, Nestkeeper. His voice, usually high-pitched from his status as a hatchling, sounded especially sharp and piercing to Katherine’s sensitive ears—much to the dismay of the “demolition crew” pounding away inside her skull.

  “Sparky, can you please complain quieter?” Katherine mumbled, sitting up with bleary eyes. She reached for the plate, wincing as the magical barrier tingled against her fingertips. Determined, she managed to grab a piece of meat, tore it in half, and tossed one piece to Sparky, who snatched it eagerly as soon as it passed through the boundary. The shield seemed to lower only for her touch, a detail that made her wonder about the plate’s enchantment. The meat itself looked like thick strips of pork, but tasted subtly different—leaner than expected, as if it had been basted in lard to mask its true flavor.

  Shade appeared briefly, shadowy and silent, to accept a few pieces of meat from Katherine. Oddly, instead of eating, he took his share and slipped away, repeating the ritual when he returned for seconds. Katherine watched him with a puzzled frown—he’d never been so secretive about food before.

  Growing curious and a little concerned, she made her way to the familiars’ habitat in the corner of her room. The enclosure was shallow enough to observe but built for privacy. Luna, the Mirage Dire Panther, lay curled on her side, looking distinctly unwell. Katherine crouched beside her, the fur beneath her hand soft and hot as she gently rubbed Luna’s side. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

  Luna’s response was immediate—a low growl and a flash of white fangs. Katherine jerked her hand back, heart skipping a beat. Hey, easy, I only came to check on you, she projected, worry tightening her chest. Luna had never exactly been affectionate toward her, their bond more practical than emotional, but outright hostility was new. Luna knew Katherine wouldn’t harm her; at worst, she’d withhold treats, and Shade—ever the sneaky one—would inevitably supply them if Luna asked. Lately, Katherine had noticed Shade fetching snacks for Luna more often than usual.

  As Katherine watched Luna, confusion and unease mingled in her thoughts. Was Luna sick, or was this simply a sign of her being in heat? The sudden defensiveness just didn’t fit. After a moment’s hesitation, Katherine decided not to push her luck. She stood up, keeping her tone gentle. “If you need anything, just ask,” she said quietly, backing away to give Luna space, but unable to shake the lingering sense that something was truly wrong.

  With nothing better to do, she finished breakfast with Sparky and Shade, before heading to work.

  ...

  “Everything alright?” Roland asked, knee deep in the pond with the Velthornes and the Thryssals. He paused mid-cast, flicking water from his hands as he watched Katherine, concern etched into the lines of his brow.

  Katherine tossed a slimy, descaled fish into the water, her fingers lingering over the next catch. “Yeah, just a lot going on in my head,” she admitted, barely meeting Roland’s gaze.

  Roland nodded, shifting his weight as the water lapped at his shins. “Ah, the young mistress said you might be a little troubled,” he remarked, recalling how Lira had left the dorms as if she’d spent the night and cooked a mountain of fatty meat for Katherine before heading out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Katherine shook her head, fiddling absently with another fish. “Not really. I want to figure it out on my own.”

  Roland waited a beat, respecting her space. “If I may, what the archbishop recommended does sound like a good idea. It’ll let you see the world if you’re willing. Sure, it’s not the most glamorous job sometimes, but it’s honest work. You might even learn a thing or two about the creatures you seem to attract.”

  Katherine’s thoughts drifted to her familiars. Shade, her first companion, had a fearsome reputation, but Katherine and a select few—including Dean—knew he was nothing more than a giant ball of energy. Her bond with Luna was born out of necessity; if Katherine died, Shade might die too, and Luna wanted to prevent that from happening. Sparky was a surprise—when Katherine bought his egg, she expected a bird, maybe a phoenix at best. The reality was far more interesting than she’d imagined.

  Roland, seeing Katherine lost in thought, tried to lighten the mood. He grinned, raising an eyebrow. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  Katherine’s mind raced with old superstitions—she’d always believed tempting fate was a mistake. The words unsettled her, making her stomach churn. Suddenly, she shot out of the pond like a rocket, nearly losing the contents of her stomach to the water. “Why would you say that?” she demanded, voice sharp, startling Roland with her abruptness.

  “Welp, that’s new,” Roland said, blinking at Katherine’s unexpected reaction, his fishing forgotten for the moment as he watched her warily.