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theonlyren · 13 days ago

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Post-Transition Reintroductions

This would be my first time home since my transition.

My parents knew about it, of course. It was sort of impossible to hide from them. Every time I called them, they’d notice my voice changing ever so slightly more. One day, Mom asked for a video call instead of a regular one. That was when I broke the news to them. What I was doing was just so very hard to hide at that point. I’d changed too much.

My parents tried to accept me as I changed. Bless their hearts, they really did. But they just didn’t understand why I needed to do it, why I was compelled to seek the doctors who could help me through the procedure. Especially since I’d done so without telling them first.

When they focused in on that point, I asked them if they would have tried to talk me out of it. They denied it up and down, but the lie was pretty plain to see. Ultimately, my changes drove a schism through our relationship, one that never really closed again.

My sister, however, knew from the moment I showed her that this was something I didn’t just want to do; it was something I needed to do. When faced with the choice to take this leap and blossom into my best self, or languish in a body that was slowly killing me, she knew I had made the right choice. More than that, she recognized me. Even when I had changed so much that my parents didn’t know me anymore, my sister still ran up to greet me every time I visited her.

This would be my first time home, at my parents' house, in my hometown, since my transition.

It was a sort of… welcome-home party; I guess. My sister and I planned it together, so that we could reintroduce me to the family and my friends. Of course, she and her husband knew about me, even though they hadn’t told their kids yet. My niece and nephew were little, and wouldn’t understand who I was as I transitioned. I hadn’t had a chance to see them since my transition finished, but my sister promised that we’d do it soon.

Sis handled all the invites and insisted we hold it at Mom and Dad’s house. I wanted to do it somewhere a bit more open. The park, I mused, would have been a perfect place to do it. Plenty of space to mingle, but more importantly, I could run away if and when things went wrong. My sister insisted we do it in my parents' backyard.

It was a place of familiarity; she explained. It was a place where everyone already knew me, and hopefully, seeing me as I am now in this familiar place would help them connect who I was and who I am in their brains.

At least, that was the hope. There was no guarantee that the plan would work.

So that was where I was headed. My home town. For the first time since my transition. I kept dwelling on that fact as I traveled, the scenery passing in a blur. My town had changed so much in the two years since I left, in the two years since my transition started. It looked the same, but it also looked so much different. Uncomfortably different. Trees were bigger than I remembered them, casting streets in deeper shadows than I was used to. There were new cars on old driveways. There were unfamiliar faces in familiar windows, watching me nervously. And yet, through it all, I still recognized this place as home. Even though I hadn’t lived here in years, this was where I grew up; this is where I spent twenty-five years of my life.

My tablet buzzed, and I fished it out of my bag. My sister was sending me rapid-fire texts, asking about my ETA. Five minutes out, I told her. It was a generous estimate, even as I strolled down the street.

Message me when you’re around the corner. We’ll introduce you, my sister texted back.

Thanks.

I dallied a little bit longer in the cul-de-sac, just admiring the place I knew so well yet no longer knew at all. This street had taken such good care of me. There was the corner where my friends and I played street hockey, and where I inevitably broke my leg playing street hockey. There was the hill where Dad taught me how to ride a bike and, inevitably, broke my collarbone when I crashed into a parked car going way too fast.

Okay, maybe this street hadn’t taken such good care of me, but despite the pain, these were still happy memories. Memories of love and friendship, of being surrounded by people who knew me.

Knew me as I was back then.

This was my first time home since my transition.

I was standing outside the fence, hidden from view by the nine-foot-high wooden walls. My sister was there with me. We hugged, as siblings sometimes do, and she complimented me on how well I cleaned up. I hadn’t done anything special, but I still preened at her compliment. I couldn’t help it; I’d become a lot more vain since transitioning, something that the doctors had warned me might happen. I was aligning my body with how I always envisioned it was supposed to look; it was only natural to take pride in my new appearance and find joy in its beauty.

My sister stepped back through the gate and got everyone’s attention. She thanked them all for being here to welcome me home, and asked them not to be alarmed when they saw me. That despite the changes, I was still the same person they all knew and loved. I was even more that person, actually, because I was finally happy to be me.

At my sister’s flourish, I stepped through the gate, and presented myself to the crowd. There were gasps and murmurs. My mother leaned into my father’s embrace, shocked at my changes even though none of this was news to her.

My grandfather arched an eyebrow at me, took off his glasses to clean the lenses, then put them back on. “Are they hiding behind the dragon?” he asked. “No, I am the dragon,” I said, with the confidence and resolve I could have only dreamt of having back before my transition. I sat on my haunches and held my head high, spreading my wings to display myself with pride. Sitting like this, I could easily see over the fence. I took pleasure in that fact and felt a reptilian purr rumble from within my chest. “Hi everyone, it’s nice to meet you all again.”

And with that, the barriers broke down. My friends were the first ones to step forward and congratulate me. They hugged me and told me they always knew, deep down, that this was what I was always meant to be. They took to referring to me within the context of being a dragon almost immediately. They didn’t need reminding or even gentle nudges from my sister.

“That explains the raw steaks,” one of them laughed.

“Yeah, I like my meat bloody now,” I joked. I wanted to pat them on the back, but I was a lot stronger now than I was back when we hung out regularly. I didn’t want to send them flying.

After my friends, my cousins stepped forward to talk with me.

“So do you go by a different name now? Something more dragony?” they asked.

“I thought about it, but I don’t really feel the need to go that far,” I explained. “I don’t hate my name, and the process to get it legally changed is such a hassle.”

They seemed relieved at that.

To everyone’s surprise, my grandfather was next. At nearly a hundred years old, the family patriarch was venerated, loved, and respected by everyone. I fully expected him to hate what I’d become, but to my shock, as I bent down to hear his wheezing whispers, he patted me on the nose.

“There you are, kiddo,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you, but you've got the same eyes. Always sharp, they were.”

“Well, I’ve got slit pupils now.”

“Sharper now than they used to be,” he chuckled. He patted me twice more. “You look good. Shiny. Like a pile of coins.”

I purred at his praise. “Thanks! I just shed my old scales, so my new ones are really vibrant. We actually timed this party super well, because if I were still in shed, I probably wouldn’t have been able to make it.”

The look my grandfather gave me said that he didn’t understand a word I had just said, but he was trying very hard to be respectful about it. I appreciated that, and told him as much.

The last people to speak with me were my parents. They approached me almost nervously, and I lowered my head to be closer to their eye level.

“I think we owe you an apology,” my dad said.

My mother nodded. “We… we were jut worried about losing you. But watching you now, the way you move, the way you talk. You never used to be like that.”

“Like what?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Happy,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Thinking back, you were always hunched over, slinking around like you were just trying to get from point A to point B. But now? You’re holding yourself tall and proud. There’s something so joyous in your every movement, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.”

I grabbed my tail and showed it off to them. “It’s this thing. It’s pretty hard for me to hide my feelings with this big ole rudder swaying around excitedly.”

My dad snorted a laugh as I relinquished my tail and let it right itself again. He hugged me, wrapping his arms around my neck. My mother joined in too, and I squeezed them both with my wings.

And with introductions out of the way, the party got into full swing. Everyone wanted to know what it was like to be a dragon.

“It’s right,” I said. “I feel more like myself than I ever had before.”

They asked me to do tricks for them. My draconic pride stung a little at the idea of parading myself around like a pony, but it soared at the chance to show off. I demonstrated my fire breath by igniting wood in the fire pit. I did some flying maneuvers I’d been practicing, including corkscrews and loops.

Through it all, I felt good. I felt right and, more importantly, I felt like my friends and family were finally starting to understand. The human they knew me as, that was never really me. Now that they’ve seen me as a dragon, they understood that this was always what I was meant to be. That I’d been trapped in my body and now, finally, I was free to be my truest self.

“So do you live in a cave now? You’re a bit too big to fit in a conventional apartment,” my friend asked.

“As stereotypical as it is, yeah,” I laughed. “The Therio Foundation, the organization that helped set up my transition, has some land set aside so folks like me can live in something approaching our natural habitat. I have a cave to call my own, but the inside is really more like an apartment. It’s got all the amenities you’d expect: running water, electricity, even internet.”

“But it’s still a cave?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s a lot nicer than it sounds! You should come by for a visit. One of my neighbors is an ogre, and as weird as that sounds, he makes the best chili!”

“What do you do for work now? I’m guessing tech doesn’t really suit you anymore, does it?”

“Aha, no. I got fired from my last job once my transition took me out of commission for two weeks. My wings were growing in, and it was probably the most painful experience of my life,” I said, making the growling noise that was a dragon laugh. “The Therio Foundation helped me find a new job, though.”

“Let me guess: security?” my friend asked, incredulous. They all burst into laughter as my cheeks burned with a blush.

“Is it really that much of a stereotype?” I asked.

“Dragons sitting on gold? Yeah, absolutely.”

“I don’t sit on gold! I just… sit in front of the vault. And sniff people for guns,” I muttered. “It’s really easy to smell gunpowder through clothes.” I blinked slowly as the realization dawned on me. “Oh shit, I’m a dragon stereotype.”

That got more cackles from my friends. “It sounds like it suits you just fine, though.”

“Yeah. I mostly get to sleep through the entire shift, which is shockingly both okay and entirely necessary, since I tend to stay up late playing video games.”

“And the bank is okay with that?”

“Oh absolutely. Honestly, just having me in the building has probably stopped most attempted robberies alone. I have had to get involved once or twice, but nobody really needs to wake me up. I can hear and smell enough even when asleep, and a little bit of smoke out the nostrils is enough to scare off most would-be-criminals.” I gave them a little demonstration, letting twin columns of smoke waft up from my nose. “Honestly, the best part about the job is that, aside from paying rent and utilities, I don’t really spend much money. I don’t need to buy clothes anymore, and I usually hunt for all my meals. So I’m putting a lot of money into my savings!”

“You’re building a hoard!” one of my friends blurted.

“Oh my god, stop that,” I giggled, blushing. “But yeah. I’ve started working on getting a proper hoard going. Turns out there is actually a biological reason dragons hoarded treasure. I've gotta eat metals now and again to keep my scales healthy, and the different metals I eat have different effects. So to get them all shiny like this, I had to eat silver, which is frustratingly expensive,” I explained. “I don’t have to eat metal very often, only before I’m about to shed. That’s usually the first warning sign that a shed is coming, actually.”

“Sweet. Think we could get some of your shed scales?”

“Nah, sorry. I traded them with the ogre next door for his incredible chili.”

That got more laughter out of my friends, and I felt a warm feeling inside that had nothing to do with the fire in my belly. It felt good to have people I cared about not only accept me for what I was, but take an active interest in my life.

As the party wound down for the evening, people took to their cars to drive away. One of my friends expressed interest in a possible transition of their own, and I conveniently had the card for my Therio Foundation doctor in my neck satchel. When I asked about what they thought they wanted to be, they shrugged and said that they didn’t know, just that seeing me as a dragon made them recognize that they probably weren’t human.

“The Therio Foundation will at the very least help you explore that side of yourself,” I told them, smiling warmly. “Hit me up if you come by Theta Acres. If I’m not at work, I’ll be in my cave. I can help introduce you to some people.”

“Thanks,” they said, genuinely moved by my offer to help.

I said goodbye to my relatives and friends, as one by one they left. Finally, it was just me, my parents, my sister, and my grandfather. The old geezer was fast asleep in his lawn chair, so we decided it best not to wake him up. I whispered him goodbye, then embraced my parents. My sister gave me a particularly strong hug, praising me for being so brave and sharing myself with everyone.

“So when do we show your kids?” I asked her.

“I was thinking we could have you make a grand entrance at their birthday party in a couple of weeks. One of my son’s friends has been bragging about their grandfather being a vampire, so I figure we should one-up him by showing off the dragon in the family.” My sister grinned devilishly, and I couldn’t deny the idea had some appeal.

As I took a few steps out into the street, I glanced over my shoulder to admire the house I grew up in. It looked a lot smaller than I remembered, but that was to be expected. I was nearly twice as big as I was ‌before my transition. I couldn’t fit inside anymore, but that didn’t really matter. I had outgrown this home, both as a person and, quite literally, as a dragon. I smiled at the notion, spreading my wings and allowing my impressive wingspan to dominate the road. I flapped them twice, then leapt into the air.

This was my first time home since my transition. As the road fell away beneath me, and the sky reached out to embrace me, my heart felt alight with warmth and light. I would be back soon, I reckoned, because this place was full of people who loved me and memories I treasured.

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theonlyren · 26 days ago

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Introductory Lessons

The end of the semester is celebrated, and Selin gets some answers to her questions. 6.7k words. (This is a continuation of Upon Further Examination, which you should read before this!)

Carlton Abernanth is a man of middling stature, skillful oration, and absolutely horrendous taste in furniture, but since he is Penrose Academy’s current headmaster and therefore my direct superior, I am required to regularly subject myself to what may very well be the most garishly upholstered sitting room in the entire continent. Dandelion-yellow leather is a crime to both the eyes and whatever poor creature it came from, and there have been many times over the seven years he’s held this position that I have come within a hair’s breadth of bringing one of my own chairs to these meetings, decorum be damned. It’s almost enough to override the respect I have for the man and his runework, built up during the time that he was a fellow professor and now being the only thing saving six armchairs and two sofas from a sustained bout of concentrated dragonflame.

Goddess above. Yellow leather.

"So!" he says brightly, pouring and offering me a cup of tea from the ornate tea set that seems to live on the table here. "I take it you had an interesting round of final examinations?"

I take a sip, not bothering to test the temperature first. It’s one of the blends that Ember enjoys serving me, not prepared up to her standard but still leagues better than the stuff he used to stock. I’m sure the fact that he switched over shortly after I offhandedly complained about it to Ember is purely a coincidence. I’ve never asked her, and she would never say anything unless I did.

"'Interesting' hardly seems like the right term," I respond. "Some imaginative work, of course, like we get every semester, but the median grade was only in the low nineties. Inscription precision was the most common deduction, so I’ll look to adjusting the curriculum to spend more time on it in the future."

"It’s still nothing to scoff at," Carlton replies, and I almost want to scoff at that. "Neither is the fact that students are coming out of your class better-prepared than any other secondary program on the continent. Do you know how many attempts to poach you I’ve had to fend off?"

"Dozens of letters a day, I’m sure," I wave him off. "And you know it’s not a competition to me. I don’t care about the other schools; I care that I’m bringing my students to their fullest potential. Something that reflects poorly on me if they don’t reach that point."

"Fair enough," he concedes, before burning his tongue on his own tea and playing it off in hopes I won’t notice. "Clearly you had at least one student who did, though."

I hide a soft smile with a sigh. A full week has passed since Selin’s demonstration, and thinking about it still fills me with a swirl of varied emotions. Of course, I’m not at all surprised that he’d bring it up.

"Selin Lettea’s ritual work was the best I’ve seen in two decades of teaching, and that includes the other faculty as well as almost all of my own work," I state, without exaggeration. "Not only that, but she demonstrated levels of professionalism, tenacity, and adaptation I’ve been forced to learn are too much to ask from seasoned court magicians, let alone students. I fully believe the grade is justified."

"And I’m not saying I don’t believe you!" he reassures me. "But a full twenty percent on top of a perfect score, for an end-of-semester project? I think I can count on two hands the number of perfect evaluations I’ve seen you give out, let alone greater than perfect. I know better than to suggest it’s solely because she’s one of your mentees, but please, I’d love to be enlightened."

I slump in that horrendous yellow chair, just barely, but I’m sure Carlton picks up on it.

"There were… extenuating circumstances at play."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t speak. I sigh again, genuinely this time.

"In my eyes, Selin earned perfect marks from the very beginning, flawlessly executing her ritual as designed and correcting the induced errors almost as soon as I made them. I wouldn’t call the ritual itself groundbreaking by any means, but it shows a comprehensive understanding of the principles I taught as well as a knack for efficient and reproducible design, even without taking into account the constraints of the situation."

"Constraints?"

"Apparently," I start, then pause to take another sip of tea, "she has mana instability as well."

The second eyebrow joins the first, turning from questioning encouragement to surprise. As was the case with his predecessor, I’ve had to paint a slightly different picture of my identity with Headmaster Abernanth than I do with the rest of the faculty. Nothing explicit, of course, but over the centuries you pick up a thing or two about misdirection. In this case, the occasional offhand comment or reaction that implies I had a much more direct involvement with the Abrestan-Junal War some two decades ago now than the average noblewoman would have at the time. Pair that with the fact that Leora of Afton, frontline combatant for Abresta and one of the most notorious sorceresses in the continent, disappeared close to the end of the conflict after very publicly taking a curse to the chest, and you have a simple little deception that makes people think they’re so clever for figuring me out and neatly cuts off any further curiosity right there.

The fact that Leora was really just a way for me to express my criticisms of the Junal ruling class in a somewhat constructive manner makes the whole thing a bit easier to sell.

"And no, I don’t know the cause, though I sincerely doubt it’s the same reason as mine," I lie, preempting the natural follow-up question. "It could be entirely natural for her, for all I know. But because I didn’t know about it, I failed to account for it, and due to no fault of her own, the ritual failed. She remade it perfectly, then tried again. And again. It was only on the twenty-third attempt that I identified what was happening and fixed the issue. In my eyes, the level of dedication and perseverance she expressed in spite of what was happening is nothing short of astounding. If that grade isn’t deserved, then clearly I should be failing all my other students for their relative performance."

"No, no, I’m not pushing back," Carlton assures me, then drinks, finally satisfied with the temperature. "Based on what you’ve told me, she sounds like one of the most promising students of the year. Do you know if she’s planning to specialize? Those results would certainly suggest a promising future in ritual work."

"Not yet, but…" I hesitate. I know this is the right call, but that still doesn’t prevent voicing it from making me feel oddly… vulnerable, in a way? "I was thinking of offering her an actual apprenticeship. Holistic."

"Really?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Which I can’t blame him for; I haven’t ever shown an inclination to take someone on in that capacity. "Full-time?"

"Goddess no. At least, not during the school year. If she didn’t keep her studies well-rounded I’d fail her myself. But I see potential in her, and I plan on making sure it becomes fully actualized."

I’m almost mildly surprised to realize I’m telling the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but even discounting Selin’s nature, there’s a chance I might have decided to make this offer anyway. Isn’t that a thought.

The conversation winds down with a much briefer discussion of the results some of my other students managed to achieve, and finally I am freed from that awful room with its awful furniture. With classes over and final examinations winding down, the academy halls carry a much more relaxed atmosphere than the weeks prior. Students making preparations to head home, celebrating (or lamenting) grades, and generally enjoying the figurative weight off their shoulders. My own schedule for the immediate future is much more self-directed, but it's not yet time for me to fully relax. I’ve got centuries to do that, and a hatchling to teach right now.

Selin is, as requested, waiting for me when I get back to my rooms. I haven’t actually seen the girl since her final project a week ago, distance I imposed myself in an attempt to at least try to get her to focus on the rest of her finals rather than the newfound revelations of that day. A somewhat futile attempt, of course, even with threatening to wipe her memories of the entire examination if she were to not perform up to the standards I know she’s capable of. Still, from what I’ve heard from the rest of the staff, she’s performed admirably. All for the best, I suppose, since my experience in mental magic is barely more than theoretical and I would never actually think to take this away from her, no matter what her results were.

"I hope you two are ready to get out of here, because I am in desperate need of fresh air," I declare as soon as I walk in, breaking Selin and Ember from their conversation. "Ember, is everything packed?"

"Yes, my lady!" she chirps, holding up a picnic basket.

"Okay, that answers one question," Selin comments, "but also hi, hello, I’m still not entirely sure what it is we’re doing today?"

"Picnic lunch," I say. "To celebrate the end of a very eventful semester, or, well, the very eventful end of a semester. Because I think we all need some time to unwind, and I’d rather have the discussions we’re going to have away from others."

The promise of a discussion seems to placate her for now, her eyes sparkling like they did a week ago when I gave her that massive gemstone from my hoard. The felt bag that went with it now rests on her hip, tied to her belt, bulging with the rough-cut corundum inside. It’s probably a bit awkward to carry around like that, but I could never fault her for doing so. I have a feeling it’s going to be a while before she’s fully comfortable with letting her small hoard out of her sight. I know it took me a good amount of time, at least.

"Right, then," I continue. "Did you have breakfast?"

"Um, a bit, yeah?"

"Clear your lungs, take a deep breath, and hold it," I instruct, striding forward to place a hand on Ember’s shoulder and Selin’s sternum. "Ready? Three, two, one."

Despite her visible confusion, Selin does as I ask and inhales, just in time for me to pulse a bit of magic through her torso, paralyzing her diaphragm, intestinal, and abdominal muscles. Her eyes barely have time to widen before I force us all through space, bringing them both with me through a teleport not quite so long-distance as the trip to my cave. It’s over in an instant, and I move both my hands to catch Selin under the arms, taking the weight off her buckling legs while her body tries to process what the hell just happened. She entirely fails to vomit, because I know what I’m doing, thank you very much, and I restore control to her after only a few seconds. She immediately exhales and takes a big, shuddering gulp of air, then another, while I wait patiently for her to recover.

"W-what the hell?" she finally manages to say.

"Teleportation," I state. "We’re about two days’ trek east. I like to get out of the city for an afternoon sometimes, and this is a rather good spot to do it."

"Is it always this bad?" Selin asks, to which I shake my head.

"First time’s the worst," I tell her. "It only gets better from here, once your body gets more familiar with the sensation. It’ll also be vastly smoother when you’re the one doing it yourself. Are you alright?"

"I will be," she says, taking deliberate, measured breaths. "Maybe a little warning next time, please?"

"Once you’ve learned not to tense up."

Selin recovers remarkably quickly and I let go of her once she seems to be able to balance. Ember, having been fine after only a couple of seconds, gives her a once-over and a flask of water, which she downs rather quickly. Only then does Selin actually take a look around at our surroundings.

"Woah. You… were not kidding."

The meadow the three of us are standing in is rather idyllic, in my opinion. It’s absolutely blanketed in wildflowers, which gives the incredibly fresh air a pleasant floral note. The temperature is perfect too, helped by the fact that we’re far into the middle of a mountain range here and the early spring heat is cut down by a bit. And, as best as I’ve been able to identify during my trips here, there isn’t a trace of civilization around for miles. A wonderful location for a picnic.

Laying out a blanket and getting things unpacked is quick work with six hands helping, and once I’m sitting down I close my eyes and finally, finally let myself relax a bit. A lot, actually. Even with all my experience, both with teaching and beyond it, there’s no easy way to just magically block all the stress that naturally builds up over the course of a semester from getting to you. I’ve looked, but it doesn’t exist. Not unless you’re willing to get pretty far deep into mind-altering substances, and that’s a bit much for my tastes. No, even though I love teaching, there’s a reason I look forward to breaks. This particular summer might be a good bit different from the others, but I have a feeling it’ll be rejuvenating in its own way.

"Professor?"

I tilt my head up and open my eyes, looking at Selin. She’s looking back at me with a slightly hesitant expression, and uses one hand to gesture to her cheek.

"You’ve got a…"

I lift up a hand to touch my own face, and… oh. Ha. Well, there’s a reason I normally don’t let myself feel this loose around others. Glancing over at Ember, I see she’s barely managing to hold in a giggle, impertinent creature that she is.

"Nothing you haven’t seen before," I say, leaning back again and gazing up at the sky. Giving my body a bit more mental slack, consciously this time, the smattering of scales that had slipped onto my face bloom into patches, not fully covering me but enough to ease some of the barely noticeable tension that lives in the back of my head whenever I’m keeping to a human form. "A consequence of letting myself enjoy the environment, so to speak. Not usually a problem, but just something to keep in mind depending on the current company at the time."

"Ah," Selin responds succinctly. She doesn’t say more, but I can feel the unspoken questions anyway. Well, no point in delaying.

"Alright," I say, pushing myself all the way back up to a sitting position and facing her, a slight smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Be honest. How much time did you spend reading about us while you should have been studying?"

"That’s… a subjective measure," she answers, affronted. I say nothing. "But… maybe six hours?"

I raise a ridged eyebrow. Selin squirms.

"Okay, more like… twelve-ish. But it’s fine, I had to take breaks from studying anyway, and Professor Aldebaran literally had us make sleep-substitution potions as the last assignment before finals."

"Which I tell her is a horrible idea every year, and yet here we are," I say, pinching the bridge of nose to disguise itching it. Letting my scales come in leisurely like this is nice, but they have a tendency to tingle. "But I digress. I wish you hadn’t, but unfortunately I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, were I in your position. What have you gotten through so far? I’m very familiar with the contents of the academy’s library."

"Um, most of Draconis Magnificens, the relevant portions of Thorne’s Feather, Scale, and Aether, Children of the Sky-Fire was well-written but more about weird dragon-worshipping cult stuff than usable information, and one of the librarians recommended Blackwood’s Spark to Shadow for soul stuff. It felt like more of a think-piece than practical information, but apparently it’s hard to find anything on the topic that isn’t written from a primarily religious perspective."

"Spark to Shadow isn’t bad, but I doubt it’ll have what you’re looking for," I hum. "I’ve got some relevant works in my library at home that you might enjoy. I have… somewhat of a personal interest in the matter."

This earns me a small laugh from both girls, which is nice.

"The Scale of Feather, Scale, and Aether isn’t bad either," I press on. "Aris Thorne doesn’t make many assumptions, which is nice, but he still takes a rather human-centric approach to his presentation. Draconis Magnificens is so inaccurate it’s basically fiction, I’m sorry to say. Sky-Fire is a mostly accurate account of a period of my life I don’t love dwelling on, so let’s just skip that one, shall we?"

Selin’s eyes open a bit wider at that little revelation, but thankfully she doesn’t press.

"I found a bit more, research papers and whatnot, but there wasn’t really anything I could confirm as credible," she says, shrugging. "So I eventually figured it would be best to just… ask you."

I nod slowly, accepting my second cup of tea for the day from Ember almost without thinking. Selin gets one too, and knowing Ember, the temperature will be right on the upper edge of what she can currently handle. We’ll have to take some time to get that up.

"Never a bad conclusion to come to," I say. "Do you have specific questions, or would you like a more general overview of things?"

"I do have specific questions," Selin starts, "but I think I’d like to hear your overview. You probably have a better idea of what’s immediately relevant than I do."

"In that case, then, we’ll start with the soul," I state. "If you’ll recall, at our last meeting, I mentioned a… mismatch, so to speak. Being born with a soul not befitting of the body."

Selin nods, so I continue.

"It’s a technically accurate statement, and conveys the general idea well enough, but it’s not specific. Your soul is, fundamentally, what holds you. Your identity, your personality, your consciousness, everything that makes the girl sitting in front of me right now Selin Lettea and not some zombified husk of habits and automatic responses that merely playacts at being a person. Your soul, working in tandem with your brain, to give you life, shape your thoughts, and make you who you are. The soul serves other purposes as well, of course, the channeling and control of mana being one of the major ones, but that’s not really what we’re focusing on here. The quality of the soul more relevant to us is what happens when you—"

I point one blue-speckled finger at her.

"—start to push up against the bounds of this."

I lean forward and tap her on the forehead. She blinks, then refocuses on me as I sit back.

"I’m not sure I follow."

"I’ll try to illustrate. Imagine your soul as… as… Ember?"

"A plant, my lady."

"A plant, yes, thank you," I nod affirmatively. "A flower, ivy, whatever, it doesn’t matter for the metaphor. You, Selin, that spark of life and identity and consciousness, are a plant contained within a decorative pot. As you start from a metaphorical seed at birth, you grow, putting down roots and sending up sprouts and all those good things plants do. Things are fine for a time as you mature and thrive, but then…"

I hold up the same hand I used to poke her in a closed fist, slowly spreading my fingers before abruptly stopping in place.

"You find that you have run up against the edges of the pot. Your roots have permeated every bit of soil, your leaves are eking out every bit of sunlight they can get from the shelf the pot is placed on, and every drop of water you get is quickly sucked up, leaving you dry and wanting more. And yet, there is still so much more left for you to grow. Are you following me so far?"

"I think so, yeah," she answers.

"Right. For most people, this is a non-issue. They have been planted correctly, with a pot adequately sized and shaped for their needs, to let their roots grow comfortably and soak up all the nutrients they need for a lifetime. But for others, like us, they are quite literally a different kind of plant. Some need a different climate, some need more nutrients, but in this case… to put it simply, you’ve been planted in the wrong pot, and it’s choking you. You’ll live, yes, but you won’t thrive. Your leaves will wither, your roots will dry, and eventually you will find your soil and your pot have nothing left to give you, and your life comes to an end. Tragic, preventable, and most people who this happens to don’t even realize that it is the case."

Selin slowly nods, and I can tell from the look on her face that she seems to be understanding. It’s not a perfect metaphor, but I think it serves its purpose.

"There are ways to mitigate this, of course. We can refer to this as adding more soil to the pot, if you’d like, giving you a bit more room to expand. Frankly, just acknowledging the problem for what it is does wonders; that’s a rather large added scoop right there. But, unfortunately, this only works to an extent. Eventually you’ll run up against the rim of the pot and you can’t add any more soil. I should say, when I’m referring to a pot, I’m not talking solely about your physical body. It’s an extremely significant factor, yes, but things like your family and social environment, hobbies, personal fulfillment, the expectations placed upon you, and more all come together to form the bounds of expression and existence you fit within. There’s a bit of wiggle room there, but I hope it conveys the idea properly."

"It does, yes," Selin says, looking contemplative. "So, adding more soil only does so much. What do you do when you’ve added all you can, and it’s still not enough?"

"The answer to that, my dear, is up to you," I inform her. "Tell me. Do you feel fulfilled?"

"What, in life?"

"In life, socially, academically, whatever. I suppose, if we want to get more specific, do you feel as though the paths you are currently on will lead to personal fulfillment in those aspects? Take your time."

"I… uh… wow, okay, wasn’t really expecting this sort of question in this talk." She actually thinks for a minute, which I appreciate. "I… don’t think I have any good reason to believe that they won’t?"

"That’s not what I asked," I counter. Selin looks at me, eyes roaming over my face, taking another moment before she responds.

"Passion and certainty. Confidence and contentment," she says. "Is that what you’re asking about?"

"It is if you think it is. I acknowledge that that’s frustratingly vague, but personal determinism is sort of the name of the game here."

"Then… I think I don’t know. It feels like the kind of thing that’s impossible to know ahead of time, which might speak more to myself than any sort of objective truth of the sapient experience, if that’s what you’re getting at. I have friends, I love my family, I have a feeling I’m at the top of at least one of my classes, I have a lot of promising options for a career. Discounting what we’ve been talking about, shouldn’t all of that be a recipe for personal fulfillment?’ "Perhaps," I say. "But…?"

Selin glances away, taking in the meadow, the mountains, the cloudless sky. She looks down at her teacup, and the bag resting at her hip. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a depth to them, a touch of intention that wasn’t present before.

"Should. It’s what should be fulfilling."

A small smile starts sneaking its way onto my face again.

"What would fulfill you, Selin?"

She takes a breath.

"I said it before. I don’t know. But… if I break the pot, I might find out."

There she is.

"So," Selin says. "How do I do this?"

The intention in her eyes is resolve now, a fiery determination that I could lead her towards but never outright give her. If, for whatever reason, I were to walk away at this point, I think she has the fuel to figure out the whole thing on her own, like I did. It only serves to reaffirm my decision to help her, though.

"Onto the second topic, then," I smile. "You, Selin, are a dragon. I hope the events of last week proved it well enough for the idea to take root, and in any case that’s something we’ll be working on. That fact is going to be your lifeline and your guiding star. I used to be in the same situation you were, though without anyone to help me through it, and it took me the first eighty precious years of my life to get to the point that I expect you’ll be at in three months. At times, the only thing that kept me going was clinging to that fact like it was the foundation of reality itself."

As I talk, I push more and more of my body into inhumanity. Cerulean scales bloom over every inch of my skin, claws replace nails, and a few blinks see my pupils slitted and much sharper. Each change feels like unclasping a weight from my soul and dropping it, letting myself feel freer and indisputably me. It’s not hard to notice Selin watching me a bit more intently than she was before, though the expression on her face is less than scrutable. My wings neatly fill in the space where the ever-present phantom limb sensation tells me they should be, and I give them a quick stretch and let out a small sigh of relief before continuing.

"The real challenge lies not in knowing who you are academically, but knowing who you are internally. How you think of yourself, what you expect from yourself, what you know to be true and not true about what you are. You need to be able to see yourself in the mirror and know that there is more to you than that shape that you see, and rather than lament what you are not, be proud of what you know you are."

"Is that it?" Selin asks dubiously.

"Oh, of course not," I scoff. "If that was all there was to it, this whole thing wouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem. But it is the first step, and I think you’ll be surprised by just how much It helps. Just give it a try. Say it out loud."

She’s quiet for a moment, lips pursed.

"I don’t… it feels silly."

"Of course it does. You haven’t internalized it yet. But that’s not going to happen unless you say it. What are you?"

She sighs and pulls in on herself a bit.

"I’m… a dragon."

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" I smile.

"Still felt silly."

"Yeah, but soon it won’t. Here," I say, gesturing to the felt bag at her hip. "Pull out your stone. I think it might help."

She doesn’t push back on this, at least, uncinching the drawstring holding the bag closed and reaching a hand in to pull out the glittering purple corundum I gave her a week ago, grasping it with her other hand as she does. The shift is subtle, of course, but to me the way she sits up just a little straighter while she looks at the large gemstone is as telling as anything. When she meets my gaze again, she looks just a bit more sure, which is all we really need.

"What is that?" I ask her.

"Corundum, you said. The same thing that rubies and sapphires are made of."

"What is it to you?"

"I don’t think I… Oh! It’s my hoard," she says, needing a moment to realize what I’m asking. Looking at her face, it takes a full second and a half after saying that for her to remember that some part of her thinks she needs to feel embarrassed about saying it out loud.

"Why do you have a hoard, Selin?"

"Because you gave it to me?" she tries, with a joking smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I raise a brow, and she wilts a little. "Because… I’m a dragon."

"Selin, I’m afraid that the lady is incredibly old and therefore very hard of hearing," Ember assists me unhelpfully. "You might need to say it again for her to hear it properly."

Selin rolls her eyes, and I only barely manage to keep myself from doing the same. At the end of the roll, though, her eyes land on the gem in her hands, and her knuckles pale slightly as she takes a deep breath and grips it just a bit tighter.

"Because I’m a dragon."

She has so much further to go, but that’s the first step. Actually acknowledging it. It’ll take a long time for her to fully believe it, of course, but her voice has the hint of confidence I was looking for, the seed that will grow into something strong enough to shatter that pot into a million pieces. Some small part of her believes in who and what she is, and that makes all the difference.

The three of us settle a bit, actually lying down on the picnic blanket to enjoy the environment and take in nature for a change. It’s so radically different from city life, with the only sounds being the breeze gently ruffling the foliage around us, the chirping of birds off in the distance, and our own breathing. I don’t know what’s going through Selin’s head at the moment, but I don’t have to wonder for long.

"Can I ask what might be a silly question?" she says after some time, staring up at the sky.

"If you want to know the answer, then of course," I tell her.

She shifts a bit on the blanket, perhaps in contemplation, perhaps just finding a more comfortable position.

"What does life… look like? After you figure things out. How does it change, I mean?"

I don’t respond immediately, because this isn’t the type of question that should be answered immediately. Despite how she prefaced it, it’s not a silly question at all. It’s important, because I can tell she wants to know what to expect from life, to try and understand the situation she’s found herself in that will have such far-reaching effects. So, how do I answer? What did my life look like, during that century of exploration and obsession? I could describe it for her, sure, but… no.

"I hate to say this again, since I doubt it will be the assurance you’re most likely looking for, but once again I think the answer to that is up to you. It’s your life, Selin, and nobody can tell you how to live it, especially not now. I can say you’ll hopefully go through things with a bit more confidence, at the very least, sure in yourself, your capabilities, and your identity. But beyond that… I can’t divine the answer for you. Your life won’t look like mine, and I wouldn’t recommend it either way. You have so many options ahead of you. Stick to your studies, find something new, do some original research into the nature of the soul, if that’s what interests you. Travel a bit, find ruins, piece together what was lost to history. Start a cult, end a war, go into teaching. Hells, if you really wanted you could go the classic route, find yourself a cave, amass a hoard greater than the wealth of some nations, and terrorize some poor innocent townsfolk. It’s up to you, Selin."

I have to take a breath after that, preparing my thoughts before continuing.

"But… would you like to know what I would advise?" I ask, and Selin nods. "Take your time. Finish your degree. Make friends and spend time with them. Allow yourself to have normality. Don’t… throw yourself into things, and don’t think that everything has to change simply because you figured yourself out. Time is something you’ll have a lot of, in the long run, so don’t rush it now and miss the opportunities you have just because you’re chasing something greater. You’re young, and you shouldn’t let anything take that away from you. Least of all yourself."

"I can’t just… ignore all this," she says, but in a way that tells me it’s more of a prompt than a counter.

"And I doubt it’d be healthy to, so don’t," I tell her. "But that shouldn’t stop you from living the life that you might have, before all this. That you might still want to, just with a bit more clarity. You might be figuring out what you are, but that doesn’t change who you are."

"Poignant," she says, her voice carrying a soft smile.

"Well, I’ve had a bit of time to reflect on things," I laugh. "Think about what I wish had happened differently. I doubt I’d be a very good teacher if I didn’t feel some desire to share that insight with someone who might need it."

The rest of the afternoon is pleasant, a nice, idyllic picnic in the mountains, the perfect way to wind down at the end of the semester. Ember did a wonderful job with the preparations (overlooking the fact that the cheeky imp decided to bring dragonfruit for an accompaniment), and it seems as though Selin enjoyed herself too. She looks more… settled, perhaps, than she did. Her journey has only just begun, and she clearly knows it, but she also knows more of what it will entail, and maybe she feels a bit more confident in her own ability to complete it. It’s a good look on her.

"It would most likely be a good idea to head back to the academy sometime soon," I say after another long period of quiet enjoyment. "I wouldn’t want to abduct you for so long that the school starts sending out search parties."

"Not unless it turns out I’m somehow a long-lost princess, too," Selin laughs. "Hey. Earlier, you mentioned the point you expected me to be at in three months. Does that mean you have stuff you want me to do over the summer?"

"Ideally," I respond, "we’d be doing a lot over the summer. Truth be told, I haven’t actually done something like this before, as a pretense or not, but, conditional on your interest, I intend to offer you an apprenticeship. It would be significantly more holistic than just studies of a draconian nature, of course, but I think the pretense would also serve as a good opportunity to further your explorations in a setting where privacy is less of a concern. As far as I know, you don’t have any preexisting plans for the break, correct?"

"I, uh, wow, yeah. I mean no, I don’t," Selin stammers. "I… I was just going to stay at home, so I’ll have to talk to my family, but… holy shit yeah that sounds amazing, thank you!"

Well, that seems pretty definitive.

"You’re very welcome," I smile. "I think it will be a good experience for all of us."

"It’ll be nice to be home again for a while," Ember remarks as she begins to clean up.

"Oh goddess, please don’t remind me," I groan. "Having the three of you in one place again is going to be bad enough even if I wasn’t going to be devoting much of my time and attention to teaching Selin."

"We’ll be good, I promise!" Ember chirps with a smile much too puckish for her human face. "Best behavior."

"I don’t believe you for even a second."

"Past performance is not indicative of future results!" she declares. "And besides, would you really deny me this? The city can be so stifling, you know."

"I definitely get that," Selin mutters, pushing herself upright so she can give Ember a hand. "Wait, is that a dragon thing?"

"In all likelihood, yes," I say. "But to be honest, I think it’s a pretty widespread sentiment. In any case, I think you’ll enjoy the estate, even with three fountainheads of mischief running around."

I push myself up as well, climbing to my feet and giving my wings one last good flare and stretch before I fold them up and start the transition back into a more human-standard form. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a proper flight in, and they ache to be used, but now is not the time, unfortunately. Though, who knows? I might end up needing to teach Selin to fly before the summer’s over, if she makes enough progress. That would certainly be something.

Cleaning up is quick with many hands once again making light work of things, though I think we all are at least a little reluctant to leave. Selin expresses this by falling back onto the flattened patch of wildflowers where the blanket was, sighing with contentment after an initial small gasp from landing.

"Wow this was wonderful," she says. "Thanks again, for… everything."

"You are very welcome, my dear," I tell her. "But stay like that and you’ll stain your clothes."

"Oh please, I’m not an infant, I know how to use prestidigitation," Selin giggles, starting to move her arms and legs like she’s making a snow angel in spring. She seems to be enjoying herself, at least. "And it is so nice out here. I think I’d love to come back sometime, if it’s not too much trouble."

"I’m not the one who isn’t accustomed to teleportation," I smirk. "But yes, it’s one of my favorites for a reason."

She eventually stops with her limbs spread wide, getting in a bit more rest before she has to get up. I don’t have to take such a long time changing back into my human guise, but it’s nice to spend as much time as close to my real body as I can get. Plus, transformation is such an interesting sensation. And it’s only because I save my draconic eyes with their better-than-human perception for last that I spot it. Or, given that there looks to be a few, them.

"Selin," I start, "out of curiosity, how practiced are you with illusion spells?"

"Not very much at all," she answers, looking up at me quizzically. "I know theory, of course, but it always felt kinda weird to use, so I haven’t really used it since second year. Why?"

So, it’s not her doing it as a somewhat odd way of trying things out. Fuck. That’s… is she even trying to do anything? Or is it just happening, somehow? That would be… unimaginable. I kneel down to her left, heedless of dirtying my own clothes, and slip one hand under her elbow, lifting it slightly.

"You might want to brush up," I tell her, gazed locked on her arm. "Goddess above, I thought it was a mole at first. But… here."

I touch the space slightly above her inner elbow with my free hand, then guide her arm upwards for her to see. She brings her arm over her face herself, squinting slightly as she does her best to focus with her eyes currently accustomed to the strong light from the sky. Then, they go wide as she sees what I saw.

Seven tiny scales sit on her arm, arranged in a circle with one in the middle. The little cluster is maybe half the diameter of a ten-cent coin all together, the scales in soft areas like joints always being smaller to allow for greater flexibility, but they’re there, each one a brilliant, rich purple. Perfectly matching the gem I picked out for her, chosen for her favorite color.

"Holy fuck," Selin breathes. "I’m a dragon."

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