FOREWORD

    “Ochisilla, you cannot do this! You will-”
    The man who had been screaming had his head neatly cleaved in two. Ochisilla smiles darkly, flinging the blood on her hands to splatter on the dirt under her feet. She proceeds to the massive pair of doors and just barely pushes them open. The large wooden doors groan in protest, having not been opened in centuries. On the other side of the doorway is a large room, empty save the cage in the very center of the floor. Ochisilla, grinning, approaches the cage confidently.
    “Oh, if it isn’t the little dove, come to take me away,” a voice murmurs in a tone that could pierce the very heart of a human. But Ochisilla isn’t human; she is not scared in the slightest
    “Kalcifer, you are hardly in a position to be attempting to sway me with your words,” the woman says to a boy inside of the cage.
    Kalcifer stands to his full six-foot height. His red eyes are the only thing plainly visible, shining a bright crimson even when there is no light. Ochisilla can see every inch of him even in darkness, having perfect night-vision. She stares hungrily at his body, craving his power, lusting his strength. The air in the room is heavy with it. Even not at full power, Kalcifer’s strength cannot be matched, even by Ochisilla herself.
    She smiles in a way that could convince even the most powerful of fiends to kill themselves if commanded. Her teeth elongate and her jaw dislocates itself, her mouth open widely, ruining her beautiful features. “You are mine, Kalcifer.”
    A small chuckle is heard but ignored, and the woman leaps on top of the cage. On impact, a bright light shines, and Ochisilla jumps back, skin bubbling where she had touched the bars.
    “My beautiful skin! What have you done to me?” She clutches her injured self and glares demonically at the boy inside the cage.
    It starts as a chuckle, but quickly progresses to manic laughter. Kalcifer raises his hands in the air. “This is my prison, Ochisilla! There are hundreds upon thousands of hexes and spells and charms set upon this cage! No dæmon, no fiend, no monster can get in or out! I am stuck here!” His ex
pression is wild; his eyes are wide, his smile from ear to ear, all razor-sharp teeth showing. “Go ahead, try again! Maybe you’ll get in this time; Hell knows I’ve tried!”
    Ochisilla hisses briskly. “You are mad, Kalcifer. But you are still mine! I will have you.” Her jaw fixes itself and her skin heals. She is beautiful again.
    Kalcifer’s tail lashes madly. “You’ll have to find the key, little dove!” He points to a rather small lock on the corner of the cage. “It’s sure to be around here somewhere!”
    The woman hisses again. “Hell damns you, Kalcifer. Where is the key?”
    “Since when does a prisoner know where the key to his freedom lies? I am not to know, little dove. Perhaps you should ask the woman that you nearly killed just outside. She is my keeper, as her mother was, and her mother before that. I expected you to know that much, damned bird as you are. Is it not the little birdy that tells people secrets?”
    Another hiss. “You will be mine soon, Kalcifer. Do not forget that. You are mine.”
    Another wild cackle. “You’ll have to get me out of here first, Ochisilla! Find your feathered-ass a way to get me out of here, and we will see what happens.”
    Ochisilla is furious. She was not informed of the lock on the cage. With a scowl, she leaves and finds an old woman she had injured earlier. The hurt woman whimpers, her long ears trembling.
    “Where is the key!” Ochisilla roars, stamping a small foot on the woman’s chest. The small foot is suddenly a massive bird’s foot with talons that could cut through iron like parchment.
    The woman coughs. “You will never know. Never. Kalcifer has been guarded by my family for generations and monsters much more powerful than you have tried and failed to release him.”
    Ochisilla growls deeply and leans closer. She sees a small glint in the woman’s eye and grins. “A clever place to hide it indeed, woman.”
    The woman is about to scream but is cut off abruptly. Ochisilla thrusts both of her hands into the woman’s eyes and rips them from their very sockets. Agonized screams erupt from the poor woman as she is suddenly blinded. Ochisilla’s face stretches in a smile that effaces her beauty.
    “You thought hiding the key in your eyes would keep it safe, did you? Thought that a dæmon would never see it, did you? But you didn’t anticipate that I am much more powerful than I appear, woman. I have more power than you can even imagine. I have millions of dæmon at my disposal. Many dæmons that will die for me if I command them to do so.”
    The woman, who had stopped screaming and began whimpering, ground out, “You’re nothing of the sort, Ochisilla. You’re just a bird that knows how to use magic.”
    “Silence, human!” Ochisilla neatly slices an arm off the woman. While she begins crying and wailing again, Ochisilla investigates the eyes in her hands. Grinning, she pushes the two eyeballs together forcefully, combining them. When she opens her hands, a key is not there, but a small, clear sphere.
    “What is this?” Ochisilla says, angry. She peers into the sphere, confused. “This cannot be the key, can it?”
    Inside the sphere is a sleeping girl with long brown hair.
    “Is this a - who is this girl? Is this a portal sphere of some sort?”




One

    My alarm clock blares, and I hit it hard, silencing it. It is not allowed to tell me to wake up this early with such enthusiasm. I groan and sit up, sleep tempting me. But I have school, and I cannot miss anymore days. If I do, I cannot go on the field trip to Washington D.C. I’ve never been there, and would like to go.
    So I get to my feet and turn the light abruptly on, momentarily blinding myself. I wince, but shrug it off and begin getting dressed. I choose a pair of jeans littered with holes - for summer has begun - and a white shirt with a pretty, red floral design on the bottom.
    I brush my hair thoroughly, slip on some worn sandals, and rush into the bathroom before my younger sister gets in there and brush my teeth. My hair is neatly parted in the middle, flat straight, and currently boring. I decide to pull it up in a ponytail with some hair in the front left down to create the illusion of bangs. I’ve tried parting my hair to the side, but I never thought it suited me well. With a sigh, I put on my glasses. My eyesight isn’t perfect, but not bad enough that I need glasses. I wear them to distract people from actually looking at my eyes, because I think they’re strange and don’t want to be ridiculed for them. They’re a pretty green color, but with noticeable flecks of yellow around the edges, and sometimes I think they’ve gotten bigger since I was younger, but I chalk it up to my imagination.
    Ready for school, I run down the stairs, grab the keys on the counter, and am almost out the door until David stops me.
    “And where do you think you’re going with my keys?” He says sternly.
    I barely turn. “Going to school.”
    He shakes his head and holds out his hand. I throw them at him, hoping they’ll land in his coffee, but luck is not on my side, because they fall in his hand.
    “Emily, at least eat some breakfast,” my mother says, standing over the sink. “I made cinnamon toast.”
    My eyes light up. One of my favorites. I sit at the table without question and Mom sets out a plate in front of me with breakfast on it. I smile and bite into it, enjoying the warm, sweet taste.
    “Thanks, Mom,” I say.
    “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” my sister says as she enters, dressed in a skimpy tank top and short shorts. Her face is covered with makeup.
    “Don’t dress like you’re my age,” I counter.
    She rolls her eyes. “Jessica Caraway dresses like this every day.”
    I swallow. “Anna, you look like a hooker.”
    “Hey,” David warns. I glare at him.
    “Whatever, Emily. At least I’m not a freak.” Anna goes upstairs.
    Anna is twelve. I’m seventeen. Since when does she have the audacity to talk to me like that? I shrug it off, finish my breakfast, and stand.
    “Anna, don’t talk to her like that! Here, Emily. You can take my car.” My mom sympathetically puts her car keys in my hand. I smile warmly at her, mostly because her car has great bass that she’s not even aware of.
    My mother is great to me, even though I’m adopted. I, like most orphans, have no idea who my parents were. They must have been pretty heartless to just throw their kid away like that, so I don’t think about them much. I have a parent. My mom. David is my adopted dad, but I don’t see him as much of a father.
    I hoist my backpack on my shoulder and leave for school.

    I have ten minutes before the first bell rings, and when I enter the school, my three friends find me. Rachel, Clare, and Hailey.
    “Hey, Em!” Clare greets me enthusiastically.
    I wince. “Morning, Clare.”
    Rachel peers into my face. “Headache? You forgot to file again.”
    I bl
ink and touch my canine teeth with my tongue. They’re as sharp as they were yesterday, even though I filed them last night.
    I groan. “Ugh. Either of you have a file?”
    Hailey pulls one out. “Nails too.”
    I look at my nails. They’re sharp too, despite my biting them off last night too.
    I groan a second time. “Will you guys come with me to take care of this?
    A minute later, we’re in the bathroom. I’m filing my teeth down in the mirror while Hailey is going on about how her parents won’t let her go to a party this weekend.
    “They’re totally mean! Mr. Howard gave me a seventy on the last quiz, and my parents don’t understand that he’s out to get me. So they took away my phone and won’t let me go to the party. Sometimes I wish I was just given to a different family.”
    Rachel goes to stop her, but it’s too late. I’m glaring intently into her eyes. She looks like a frightened kitten.
    “Sorry, Emily.”
    I return to my filing.
    Looking in the mirror, I see the key necklace that I’ve had my entire life. Mom and David say that when I arrived at the adoption center, I had the key around my neck. I keep it now, convinced that it’s something my parents gave me. It’s all I have of them. I hate them now, but they’re still my birthparents. The key looks like a very archaic skeleton key, a rusty brown color with a worn end. People ask what it opens, but I don’t have the slightest idea.
    The bell rings, and my friends leave. I put the file in my pocket and pick up my backpack, only to suddenly double over, clutching my head so that my brains don’t splatter the bathroom walls. And, like always, the pain spontaneously stops, leaving me with a high-pitched whining in my ears and a backache.
    For as long as I can remember, I’ve been getting sudden migraines that feel like an elephant is trying to squeeze into my head while my brain is still in there. Then they stop abruptly, and I’m only left with ringing ears and spinal pain. I don’t know what any of it means, but lately it’s been happening more often, and sometimes it feels like there’s five elephants on my back too. I’ve gone to a doctor about it, of course, but they’re baffled. They don’t see anything that could be causing it.
    I’m such a freak.

    My first class is English III, where I usually just sit in the back and don’t pay attention, because English comes naturally to me. I can never listen to a word the teacher says and pass the tests with flying colors. I mean, every year we go over the same rules, so of course I get. I don’t see how others don’t.
    My mind wanders to the summer beauty outside as I bite my nails. It’s so comfortably warm and pleasant and clear. I have always loved summer above all seasons. I feel free.
    I don’t even realize that a random stranger walks into our classroom due to the longing I feel for outside.
    “Class,” my teacher says, gesturing to the newcomer. “This is a self-help teacher here to teach us some techniques.”
    I turn. This is English. What’s with the self-help guy?
    My thoughts are amplified when someone asks about the man.
    “I understand that school is stressful, kids, so I thought that maybe if I helped relieve some stress, you guys would understand more of the material we’re going over,” Mrs. Jen answers evenly. “He’s going to be your teacher until the bell rings.”
    “Hello, kids,” the man says in a strange accent. He’s obviously not from North Carolina like the rest of us.
    Not that I want to be from here.
    “My name is Tom Gerald. But please, call me Tom. I hate formalities. First of all, I need you to all get out a piece of paper.”
    Paper ruffles as we all retrieve a sheet from our binders.
    “Good. Now write down everything you hate about yourselves.” He raises his hands when people murmur in disagreement. “No one will see this. Just write down as many things as you want, fold the paper, and then pass them forward.”
    I look down at my paper, my eyes narrowing. There’s far too many things about myself that I hate to fit on one piece of paper.
    Dispelling my thoughts, I put my pencil to the paper.

    Emily Ava

My eyes.
My teeth.
My nails.
My boring hair.
My bad temper.
My random migraines and back pains.
The fact that I’m seventeen and have still not started my menstrual cycle.
The fact that I cannot get a boyfriend.
The fact that my parents threw me into an adoption center without a second thought.
The fact that I never feel like I’m where I need to be.
The fact that I feel so lonely all the time.
My inability to understand Geometry.

    Annoyed, I fold the paper tightly and give it to the person sitting in front of me. He takes it and passes it up to the front.
    Tom guy takes all the papers and sets them in a small metal bucket that I hadn’t noticed. “Bertha, is it okay if I take them outside?” He looks at Mrs. Jen. She nods and returns to whatever she’s doing at her desk.
    “Okay, kids. Follow me outside.” He picks up the bucket and goes outside, where we all follow. I feel better knowing that we’ll be in the summer air.
    Outside, Tom guy sets the bucket down in front of his feet and kneels down. He gestures us all to do the same, and we do. Then he lights a match and tosses it in the bucket.
    I watch with interest.
    “See what I’m doing?” Tom asks us. “The things you hate about yourselves are as fragile as paper. The hatred can easily be burned or torn or ripped to pieces. Burn your hatred, kids. It will help you, trust me.”
    We can hear the bell ring, and I head for the track, thinking about what Tom guy said. It isn’t that easy to just get over the things one doesn’t like. That was a big waste of my time, paper, and a match. No one will have listened to that.
    I reach the track and sit down, continuing to bite my nails. My second class is Physical Education. Fine by me; I love running. The class comes outside, and the coach commands us to change and then run a mile, which is four laps around the track. I go into the locker rooms and change quickly.
    “Ho, nice panties, Emily!” Clare shouts. I flush and pull on my shorts awkwardly. I’m wearing white panties with black stripes and red lace. Clare laughs. “Oh, come on, Em. I’m only messing with you.”
    I shrug. “Forgive me for not being comfortable with showing my ass to everyone.”
    “You and your big words,” she says. “Hurry up.”
    I fix my hair quickly and leave my glasses with my clothes. I wouldn’t want them falling off and being stepped on.
    We go outside and I begin jogging at a pleasant pace alongside Clare. We discuss what we usually do: boys.
    “You’re adorable with that little freshman boyfriend of yours,” I say, grinning.
    She giggles. “What can I say? I like younger guys. Nah, he has the hairstyle that I love. I’m a sucker for blonde cowlicks.”
    I roll my eyes jokingly. “I much prefer dark hair on a guy.”
    “Emily, you haven’t had a boyfriend since seventh grade. How would you know?”
    I almost trip her. “Shut up. It’s not my fault guys don’t find me attractive.”
    “Emily, you’re a bombshell. You have the perfect body. You just need to do something with that hair. Part it to the side or something.”
    I look at her gorgeous blonde hair, parted on the left. “It doesn’t fit me. I’ve told you this. And besides; I’m far from a bombshell. You’re the one with the model body.”
    We argue about our appearances to each other for a while before I decide to straight up sprint the last lap. I take off running at full speed, passing even the jock guys. I’ve always been a fast runner.
    Suddenly, my brain feels like it’s being crushed under a car and trip, rolling to a stop a few feet away, holding my ears because I’m sure there are pencils being shoved into them. People stop and crowd me, curious.
    This time is different than my usual migraines. Every inch of my body hurts. My head, my eyes, my mouth, my hands, my spine, my feet. Then I feel wetness. Everything feels like I’ve been drenched in water. I cannot see anything. I cannot hear anything. I cannot feel anything. There’s fire around me, then there’s water around me. I feel like I can hear something, see something in the distance, but nothing is there. Nothing is there. Nothing is here. Nothing is everywhere.
    And as fast as it started, it’s over again, and I feel fine, despite a ringing in my ears and a stiff back.
    I sit up slowly, and see that my classmates have surrounded me. They all look very scared, and I wonder why, until I look at my hands and see the blood.

    I’m taken to the nurse’s office, where the blood is wiped off of myself and I’m told to sit down on a bed and rest for a bit while they call Mom and David. I’m lying there, kind of scared, fumbling with my key necklace.
    What happened? Why was I covered with blood? I was bleeding from my ears, my gums, under my nails - even my toenails, and a small cut on the base of my spine. Even my eyes were bloodshot. Where did all of it come from? I’ve never bled before from my migraines. I’ve never had one so painful either.
    I’m so on edge that I jump when the door opens and the school nurse comes in.
    “I’ve called your parents,” she says, closing the door. “They said that you do get sudden migraines sometimes, but they’ve never heard of it being so severe. They’ve made an appointment for you at the hospital tomorrow. How are you feeling?”
    I sit up and exhale. “I honestly feel fine now. Like it never happened.”
    The nurse is perplexed, like all other doctors have been when they’re presented with my strange case.
    After about half an hour, I’m allowed to go back to class. But I don’t go; I decide to sneak out and drive around town to clear my head. I stop in a parking lot and turn the car off, leaning my head on the steering wheel. My head is full of questions that I’m having difficulty controlling. Feeling suffocated, I get out of the car and throw my glasses inside, frustrated. What is going on with me today? Why do I feel so . . . flustered? I lean against the car and take deep breaths. I need to calm down. Maybe some food will help? I look to my right and see that there’s a fast food place through an alley. I get up and begin walking towards the restaurant, but when I’m in the alley, I see a scrawny man hunched down next to a Dumpster, frantically twitching. I bl
ink and pause. There’s a sick smell wafting off of him, and I take a step back, covering my nose.
    The man hears me and stands, a knife in his hand. I freeze.
    “You . . . give me your money. I need . . . I need it.”
    I bl
ink again. Ah, I see. This man is a drug addict, and he’s just ran out.
    “Dude, I don’t have the money to get you what you need. I have five bucks at the most,” is my poor response.
    The man advances a couple of steps, the knife wielded. But, for some reason, I don’t feel that scared. I actually feel kind of confident that I’ll be okay.
    The addict suddenly lunges at me, and I do the unthinkable.
    I punch him directly in the face.
    He actually flies back a bit and touches his face, and I see four individual horizontal cuts on his cheek. Confused, I look at my hands. I gasp quietly to myself. My nails are as sharp as they were this morning and dripping with the addict’s blood.
    The man struggles to his feet. “You - you freak . . .” Then he takes off and I’m left in the alley by myself.
    What the hell is going on! My nails are back, but I chewed them down to the skin just hours ago!
    Wait.
    I lick my teeth, and yes, they’re back to where they were this morning as well.
    I’m frantic now, confused and scared. Something is wrong with me.
    In fact, I feel a thick tingling feeling in my chest beginning to grow and spread throughout my body. It makes me warm, itchy, and uncomfortable. It feels like - like my body is on fire. I am on fire. I cry out, and pat my clothes, convinced of the flames licking at my skin. But there is nothing there. Then the migraine hits me like a truck to the face. I double over, holding my head together, the attack as worse as it was during P.E.
    But this time, I black out.




TWO   

    I sit up in my bed, stretch, yawn, and rub my eyes. I stand and walk over to my window and yank the curtains open, but fall backwards with a shout. Outside my window is not the front yard with a tree in the center and a road on the edge of the lawn, but a field of trees as far as the eye can see.
    I whirl around when I hear footsteps just outside my door, but the owner of the steps doesn’t enter until at least forty seconds after I hear them.
    I’m so confused about this that I don’t notice the person enter the room.
    “Miss? You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”
    I bl
ink and look up. There’s a young girl standing there, probably fourteen years old.
    I stand up. “Who are you? Where am I?”
    She flushes awkwardly and looks away. I’m confused until I realize that I don’t have any clothes on. I shout again and grab the blanket I’d been under and wrap it around myself - then see that the blanket is made from some animal skin, and want to take it off, but don’t want to be naked. “Where are my clothes!”
    An older woman enters, with bandages wrapped across her eyes. She looks to be in her mid-fifties. “I apologize, but when we found you, your clothes were torn and covered with blood.”
    “Blood?” I bl
ink. “Where am I?”
    “You are home, girl.” The woman is smiling. That’s when I see the long, pointy ears protruding from the sides of her head.
    I stifle a shriek. “Your - your ears . . .”
    The younger girl - who has elf ears as well - frowns. The older woman laughs. “Ah, I almost forgot. You’re used to only seeing humans and animals. We are called Neket.”
    I whimper. “What do you mean, ‘I’m home?’ This isn’t my home.” Indeed, this room is not my room. It is a small room with wooden walls and wooden floors and a wooden roof. The window isn’t even made of glass - it’s just a rectangle cut out of the wall.. What I thought was my bed was just a pile of animal hides.
    The woman outstretches a hand towards me. I then notice that she only has one arm. “Come, child, and I will show you.”
    I tighten the hide blanket around myself and fold it like a towel, then swallow tightly.
    “There’s no need to be scared. I promise, I will not hurt you. None of us will hurt you.”
    I’m shaking when I take a couple steps forward and follow the two outside.
    The sun is bright and illuminates the clear sky beautifully. I’m standing in a field of lush, green grass that is surrounded by a wall of tall trees that I have to lean back to see the tops of. Wherever I am, this place is gorgeous.
    “This place is called Castlen, where eight months of the year is summer. The trees tower over everything, and the grass is as soft as a fox’s tail. This, girl, is where you were born.”
    My heart skips a beat. I - I was born here? In this . . . Castlen?
    “Wait, I don’t understand,” I say weakly, inching back. “Is this . . . am I even in North Carolina?”
    “North Carolina? Is that where you were? Ah, I will have to give you a full explanation. Follow me.” The younger girl grabs the old woman’s hand and guides her towards the wall of trees. I hesitantly follow.
    I see a path through the trees and when we cross through, I am met with several small wooden buildings that look like they came out of a medieval movie. There are dozens of elves - err, Neket walking around the area.
    “This is our village. It is called Nekun. Most Neket of Castlen live here. Come, I will explain everything to you on the way to the Cage.”
    The two return to their walking, and I follow less hesitantly this time, thinking less and acting more.
    “Child, what is your name?” The old woman does not turn when asking me this.
    “My name is - wait, my name - my . . .” I freeze, eyes wide. I . . . I can’t remember my name!
    The woman turns and smiles. “Calm down, child. I should have expected this. Your memories of the other world are not allowed here. They will fade until they are gone.”
    My memories? I try to remember things that I should recall, like what I ate for breakfast or what my little sister looks like, but I cannot. Everything is foggy, and faces are blurry.
    “My . . . I don’t have a name.”
    The younger girl turns. “We could call you Pup until we think of something better.”
    I tilt my head. “Wait, why would you call me ‘Pup’?”
    The girl looks at something above my head, and I’m curious, until the older woman interjects.
    “Keep moving, you two. We have much to discuss. My name is Clarabeth. You can call me Clara if you wish. Let’s see . . . how to start this story? Ah, I suppose I could start by naming the villain.”
    We continue walking once more, and as we walk, I can see the surrounding Neket glancing at me with interest. They’re all wearing clothes made of animal hides, I notice, as are Clara and the younger girl. What sort of clothes are in this - Castlen?
    “Some time ago, a powerful witch died by her own companion’s hand, or rather, talons. Her companion, a large, dove-like bird, ate her heart and absorbed her powers. The bird, Ochisilla, took on a human-like form and began finding more ways to become beautiful and powerful. She killed hundreds of dæmon and humans alike to gain power. She much enjoyed finding strong dæmons and forced them to breed with humans and other things to create an army of hybrids that she could control with a spell called ‘Bloodbond’.”
    I nod. “I understand, but what does that have to do with me?” We’re approaching a large hill with a large wooden building at the top.
    “I am getting there, child. Ochisilla heard word of a dæmon canine who was so powerful that his voice could topple mountains, and she so desired to have a hybrid she could command with that level of power. She found the canid, Nosk, and used a spell to make him mate with nearly a hundred women.”
    I gasp slightly. “Her army must have grown substantially . . .”
    Clarabeth waves her hand. “Do not interrupt. It is rude.”
    I make an odd noise that sounds like whining.
    “As I was saying, Nosk mated with many human women. But, all the women he had attempted to mate with died in the process. Ochisilla gave up on him and relieved him of the spell he was under and went to find another dæmon she could force to bear soldiers for her.”
    I was beginning to lose interest. What could any of this have anything to do with me?
    “However, once Ochisilla had left Nosk spellbroken, he mated with one more woman. The woman lived and bore two children. Twins. One boy and one girl.”
    My eyes widen. I feel a prickling at the back of my neck.
    “Ochisilla got wind of the children being born and returned. In a panic, the mother, Hanala, hid her two children with two of her closest friends, who parted ways and found villages that they felt were safe. Ochisilla killed both Nosk and Hanala, and found the male child. She set out for the girl, but only found Hanala’s friend. The friend had hidden the girl in the safest place she thought possible.”
    Clara turns in my general direction, and I feel like my heartbeat can be heard around the world.
    “She hid the child in another world.”
    Snap. I drop to my knees limply.
    Everything I have known was a lie.
    I force myself to remember. My birthparents had thrown me away. I had been adopted by the Avas. I lived a life with them because my real parents didn’t want me. That is what I believed.
    But none of it was true. My parents - my mother, at least, had loved me so much that she gave her life to make sure that I survived. I hadn’t been thrown away; I had been protected.
    My heart skips a beat, and the pleasant feeling I’d had vanishes.
    “I . . . I am a hybrid . . .” My voice is even lower than a whisper. A breeze blows, and I feel the wind hit in strange areas, and I cannot breathe. I bolt back to me feet weakly and take off, ignoring the shouts of Clarabeth, the young girl, and the Neket of the village. I run so fast, faster than I have ever been able to run even at full sprint, but I currently find no joy in this. I am too distraught.
    Then I find what I had been seeking: a pond full of clear water. I stop short of it, but manage steps barely centimeters apart until I reach the edge. I kneel down and peer into the water.
    I am no longer human.





THREE   

    Csarah pulls Clarabeth along hurriedly, following the Neket that had taken off after Pup. She shivers at the thought that Pup will see what she looks like. Clarabeth had told Csarah that a spell had been put on by her grandmother that should have kept Pup’s dæmon soul in check to make her seem utterly human. Having been brought back to her birthplace, the spell had been broken, and the part of Pup’s soul that held her dæmon energy was awoken.
    Through the trees, Csarah can see Pup leaning over Firefly Pond, her face in her hands and her tail limply behind her. She is crying. Everyone stops upon seeing her, but Csarah carefully approaches, a hand outstretched. She can feel her ears trembling despite her best efforts, but still presses towards the poor girl.
    Remembering what Clarabeth had once told her, Pup had previously had perfectly human features: green eyes, human ears, human teeth, human nails, and a normal human spine.
    Her human ears had moved to the top of her head and became tall, pointy dog ears, her eyes had become a bright amber, her teeth had become sharp and her nails the same, and a fluffy, brown tail tipped with black had sprouted at the base of her spine.
    Csarah reaches Pup and goes to tentatively touch her shoulder, but pulls back when the tail begins moving. The appendage slowly begins to move back and forth, quickly progressing to a rapid wagging. Pup is not crying, she is laughing. She lifts her head and looks at Csarah, and Csarah can see a single tear shed, but she is laughing.


    I can hardly believe my eyes. I am not human. I never was. All my life, I’ve been only half human. The other half is some dog creature. I am sad, yes, but I am also happy. I’ve answered so many questions about myself. I love summer because my birthplace is mostly summer. I felt lonely because I was not home. I had sharp nails and sharp teeth and yellow flecks in my eyes because that is what I was born to look like. I had migraines and back pains because my ears weren’t what they were supposed to be and my spine was supposed to be much longer than it was. I wipe away the single tear I’d shed and stand, smiling at the younger girl. She looks so confused.
    I turn and see that half the village has come looking for me, and flush slightly. “I’m okay now, Clara. Everyone. I’m okay.” I return to Clara’s side and the younger girl does the same.
    “You are not panicking?” Clara looks in my general direction. She really is blind. “I would have thought you would have been panicking. It must have come to a shock to you.”
    I smile. “I’m fine. This makes much more sense. I’d always known that I was different. Now I know why.” I can feel my tail actually wagging behind me, and I feel kind of embarrassed. I adjust the hide blanket around myself awkwardly, feeling the eyes of half the village on me. “As you were saying, Clara?”

    We continue along the road and Clara goes on with her story. The younger girl has finally told me her name: Csarah. I frequently ask questions while Clara talks.
    “With the girl safely hidden away, Ochisilla forgot about her. She set out for new dæmon to command. It took her decades to catch wind of one of the most powerful dæmon in the world. His power is so great, that my ancestors sealed him away centuries ago. He even surpasses your father.”
    I shiver at the thought. My father sounded so strong, but there are even stronger out there?
    “You see, child, Hanala’s friend, the one who sealed you away, was my grandmother. And my grandfather was a descent of one who sealed this powerful one. Since I was old enough to walk, I was to guard two things: the cage that binds the dæmon and your safety. My grandmother, Lora, used her eyes as a portal to send you to the other world. When she died, her daughter, my mother, inherited the gift. Then it was passed down to me.”
    “But you are blind, are you not?” I ask, my ears twitching as I get used to the feel of them.
    “Aye.” She nods. “Ochisilla took my eyes and used them to get you here. Because you also somehow hold the key to this dæmon’s power.”
    We reach a massive building, and Csarah pushes the large doors open. Inside is an empty room with another larger set of doors. I sniff the air, and almost jump when I can smell the scent of blood strongly. In the corner is a large blood splatter and white feathers strewn across it.
    “Ochisilla summoned you here, and you attacked her.” Clara takes a step in.
    My mouth is agape, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. “But - I couldn’t have . . . I just woke up in that room . . .”
    “You attacked Ochisilla because the half of your soul that is your father’s was awoken suddenly, and because most dæmon are hostile, you felt the need to attack. You could sense that Ochisilla was your enemy, and blindly attacked her. She managed to escape, however. Csarah found both you and I unconscious and took us to the Safehouse in the woods that you woke up in.”
    I look at Csarah. She saved me? Why would she save me if she didn’t even know in the slightest who I was?
    “Wait, you said that I hold the key that unlocks that dæmon’s power?” I touch the key around my neck absently. “This key?”
    Clara sits down against a wall. “It is a confusing mix. I will start with your mother. She was also a descendant of those who sealed the dæmon. She held the key. However, when she gave her children to her friends, she bestowed the key upon you. Lora sent both you and the key to the other world. Hanala’s brother was my grandfather, and Lora my grandmother.”
    “But, that would mean that it happened years ago, seeing as you’re in your fifties. Why am I only seventeen?” I am very confused at this point.
    Clara frowns. “Time is different in our two worlds, it seems. If you were to have lived here, you would be very old indeed. Either way, it matters not; you wouldn’t look very old. Take the dæmon that my ancestors sealed for example; he is nearly five centuries old, but looks to be in his twenties.”
    I look at the doors. “Is he in there?”
    I see Csarah shiver. Clara put a hand on her shoulder. “He is. But you can never go in there. Mark my words; Kalcifer has ways of persuading one to do his bidding.”
    I think. My curiosity beckons me to look inside, but I cannot. Now, at least. “What does he look like?”
    Clara faces the ceiling. “No one alive today recalls. When he was sealed, he was forced into his Masked state. Each dæmon has the power to make their appearance resemble a human’s if they so choose. This is called the Masked state. The seal put on him also kept him from taking on his natural form.”
    My right ear twitches and I hear a yawn through the doors. That must be Kalcifer. “So no one knows what sort of dæmon he is?” I begin to imagine a dragon. Do dragons exist here?
    “No.” Clara stands, Csarah frantically trying to help her up. “Come; you cannot wear that blanket forever. We must get you some clothing.”

    “Our clothes are made out of dæmon fur and bones, because they wear much slower and provide more protection than regular animal hide and steel,” Csarah tells me, looking around a room full of hides. “You’ll need torso armor . . . and perhaps a . . .”
    I stop listening because I’m distracted by my own thoughts. My mind is whirling with everything I’ve learned today. Everything I’ve learned and forgotten. I can’t even remember what I looked like in the other world. Did I have a family? Friends? A home?
    What most bothers me is my name. What is it? I can hardly be called “Pup” for the rest of my life. It’s cliche.
    “Here, try these on.” I look up at Csarah, who is holding some random items that are mostly a tan color.
    I take the clothes and go into another room, where I lay out the clothes on a bench and study them. There’s what looks like two pieces of a breastplate, what looks like a dress, some bandages, a bit of rope, and what looks like leggings. I stare at them, wondering. Tentatively, I take off the blanket and pick up the front part of the breastplate. Then I bl
ink; what is worn as a bra and panties? Certainly these Neket can’t just go bare between the legs. I think for a moment, wondering what I can do about this. Finally, I don the blanket again and poke my head out the door. “Csarah?”
    She looks up. “Yes?”
    “Err, could I maybe have some bandages and a long strip of linen?”
    “Why, are you hurt?” She looks alarmed.
    I flush slightly. “No, no, I just need them.” This is a female, so why can’t I merely tell her? “I need to make - undergarments.”
    She tilts her head. “Undergarments?”
    My ears turn forward and I’m quietly surprised at this. “Will you just get them, please?”
    She brings them, and I go back into the other room, where I wrap the bandages tightly around my breasts and wrap the linen strip in an intricate design around my pelvis. Then I pick the two breastplate pieces and wonder how I’m going to get them on.
    Eventually I manage to get dressed. The fur clothing feels very comfortable. I look in the reflection of a bowl of water at my appearance, and I see that I look very . . . at home. But, something is off. Something doesn’t fit. I look at my ears, brown and furry, and then at my hairline. It looks wrong. I pick up a comb made of fish bones and comb out my hair until the part is not in the middle, but is on the right side of my head so that my bangs fall over my left eye. Now I look more . . . put together.
    I hear a knock at the door. “Pup? Dinner is ready.”
    I exhale deeply. This is my world. I am a half human, half canine dæmon hybrid. This is who I am. I am meant to be here.
    With confidence, I follow Csarah to Clara’s hut where a stew of vegetables and venison is waiting. I eat three bowls of it and yawn. It has been a long day indeed.
    Then I remember something. Something that makes me sit up abruptly with my tail lifted. “Clara, did you say that I have a brother?”
    Clarabeth lifts her head. “I did. A twin.”
    “But he is . . .”
    “He is Ochisilla’s right hand.”
    I gasp. “Please tell me you’re joking.” I’m surprised enough that I have a brother, but to have him as my enemy . . .
    “Do you want to save him?” Clara faces my direction.
    I ponder the thought. “Of course I do.”
    “Then you will have to kill Ochisilla.”
    I feel my tail fall on the ground. Kill? I can’t just kill someone. Besides, I don’t even know how to fight.
    And yet, my tail lifts, despite my reluctancy. I feel my skin warming, like I’m itching to fight. I shiver violently, trying to swallow the feeling. I don’t like it.
    “How am I supposed to kill her if she can control me with that ‘Bloodbond’ spell of hers?” I ask, remembering Clara’s mentioning of it.
    Clara tucks a strand of her gray hair behind an ear. “Well, Pup . . . you attacked Ochisilla before, do you recall? But she could not control you. Either she was too occupied with your attack or you are immune to the spell.”
    I feel my ears prick up. “I hope it’s the latter . . .”
    Csarah walks over and grabs my hand. “Follow me; we’ve prepared a room for you to sleep in.”
    I realize that I actually am very tired. I follow Csarah to a room in the back of Clara’s hut where a pallet made of animal blankets has been laid out. I nod to Csarah. “Thank you.” She leaves and I lay down to go to sleep.





FOUR

    I sit up as quietly as possible and peer out the door. Clarabeth and Csarah are asleep and the village is silent. I manage to slip out of the hut without waking anyone and head towards the Cage that houses the powerful dæmon.
    I enter the building, my heart beating quick and loud. I approach the large set of doors that the monster is behind, my curiosity getting the better of me. I clutch the key around my neck. I have a right to know what I’m protecting, don’t I?
    My heartbeat escalating, I put my hands on the doors. I’m sure the village can hear it when I push the doors open with effort.
    On the other side of the doors is a large cage, and inside the cage is a sleeping man.
    “Oh, what an interesting aroma,” I hear someone say.
    I jump and peer closer into the cage. The man is lying down, appearing to be asleep, but his eyes are wide open, and are glowing a bright red. He smiles when I straighten and take a step back.
    “You smell like that green-eyed woman . . . Hanala I think her name was? ‘Tis so hard to remember with all the wardens I’ve had over the years.” He sits up, and I see his face. He is kind of tan, with incredibly long, scruffy black hair. On each cheek are three, black, horizontal lines and a vertical one on his forehead to match. His ears are pointed as well as the Neket, but aren’t as long and are closer to the head.
    “Ah, but you smell like a dog as well.” I can see his nose wrinkle. “I detest dogs.”
    I whimper slightly. The air is thick and I feel like breathing takes effort. There is something wrong with this man. There is something . . . heinous about him.
    He suddenly stands, causing me to take three steps backwards.
    “Come closer, girl. Let me have a look at you.” His voice has changed. It feels like warm honey being dripped down my spine, and I feel my ears and cheeks heating. I feel myself stepping closer to the man, my tail curled slightly at the end. Once I’m close enough, the man reaches through the bars of the cage and grabs my chin; he has very sharp nails that dig into my flesh. He stares intensely into my eyes, and I blush deeper.
    “You are a mutt. How amusing.” His red eyes are the brightest thing in the room, and I can’t help but gaze into them. He then roughly pushes my face away, but then something catches his eye. The key around my neck. “That key . . .”
    He shoves his arm out and violently grabs the key, but a sudden light shines and he leaps back, clutching his burning hand. “Damn it all . . . Woman. Unlock this cage. Now.”
    I’m trembling now, holding the key as if it were my life line. It was a bad decision to come here. I should have listened to Clara.
    The dæmon leans closer, eyes half closed. “Come now, girl. Won’t you open it for me? Please?” He looks sincere when he asks me. I take another step towards a lock I notice on the cage, my hands shaking. I should’t be doing this. I should turn around right now and leave.
    “That’s it, girl. Just put the key in the lock and turn it. Set me free.” His voice is intoxicating. I whimper slightly and hold the key just outside the lock. “Put it in,” the dæmon whispers right next to my ear. His breath tingles on my skin, and I have to swallow to stable myself. Something is telling me to open the cage. Some voice compelling me to set this dæmon free.
    I shove the key into the lock. A bright light shoots out from it, and I shield my eyes. But the light suddenly stops, and the key is turned. The sound is loud and hollow, and it brings a long moment of silence afterwards.
    Until the cage explodes, the stray bars flying all about the room, some of them hitting me. I topple backwards, my arm cut and bleeding, and I stare at the scene before me. The dæmon is standing to his full height, his long hair flowing about him. His eyes are nothing but red, the iris not separated from the rest of the eye, his pupil not visible. His mouth is parted wide in a massive smile, each razor sharp tooth showing, and even his top canines are enlarged. He’s laughing manically.
    Suddenly, the pressure in the room is suffocating. It crushes me to the floor with such force that the wind is knocked out of me. The air around us swirls around the dæmon as he flexes his hands and roars.
    I shuffle to a wall and cower against it. This was the biggest mistake I could have ever made. I’ve set loose one of the most powerful monsters in the world. And now he’s going to take on his natural form.
    The pressure is getting to the point that I’m in pain; I feel like my bones are going to be crushed to dust in seconds. The dæmon laughs wildly, his power coursing through him. A bright light emanates from his form and blinds me, and just as I’m sure he’s released the Masked form seal . . .
    Everything stops. Nothing happens.
    “W . . . what? What! What have you done, you wench!” The dæmon lunges at me and pucks me up by my hair. I cry out and writhe around, trying to get free. “What have you done! Why am I stuck in this pathetic form, you cur! TELL ME!”
    I whine loudly, so loudly that he lets go and covers his ears. He winces and kicks me in the face, scratching me with his toenails. I cry out again, and again he covers his ears.
    For a moment, I pause. I feel no pain where I was kicked. Not even where a metal bar hit my arm and cut me. No pain at all.  Could this be die to the dæmon part of me?
    I look up at the dæmon cringing against my voice and wonder. If my father could topple mountains with his voice, does that mean I can?
    I take a deep breath and shout briskly directly towards the monster. He yelps and falls to one knee, and I think I see blood coming from his ear.
    I think that I may have an advantage here, but suddenly the dæmon launches a blow to my face and I hit the wooden wall behind me; the air is knocked from my lungs again, and I stagger to my feet, breathing heavily.
    “You damned mongrel, what have you done? Why has the key not freed me!” The dæmon stands erect, about to attack again, and I take the chance to note his appearance: the red eyes, the black hair and black markings, and the ears. He has similar black markings on more part of his body: two on each bicep, one on each hand, one no each foot, and two across each thigh. I spot a long, slender, gray tail behind him with a tuft of black fur at the end. Even though he has been imprisoned for centuries, he looks as fit as a bull.
    Did I mention that he’s naked?
    He slams his fist into my stomach, and I fall back to the ground, coughing vigorously. That hurt. I feel something coil in my stomach, and I swallow roughly, and get to my feet once more.
    “SET ME FREE, YOU DAMNED MUTT!”
    He rears back his fist again, and when he begins to hurl it at me, I grab his fist. His eyes widen in surprise.
    “If you call me a mutt one more time,” I growl lowly, sounding more dangerous than I feel. “I will personally rip out your spinal column and beat you with it.”
    He looks taken aback for a moment, but snarls. “I am not afraid of a pup like you. You have no idea of the power I hold.”
    I grip his fist tighter, a hold that would certainly break the bones of a human. “You know what? I don’t think you actually have as much power as you say.”
    What am I doing? What has come over me? Why am I acting this way? I can feel something bringing itself from my stomach up through me esophagus, nearing my mouth. It feels very thick and strong, and makes my entire body feel energized. I feel my tail curl and I grin darkly, then look up at the dæmon through my lashes.
    He blinks at my eyes, then I see him swallow.
    Perfect.
    The feeling in my throat is pulsing, and I can feel it. My simper widens, and I grab the dæmon’s other arm as well, then let out a very loud, booming bark.

    I push the rubble off my back and sit up, then freeze when the entire village is standing near me, mouths agape. They’re staring at the shattered remains of the building that held the Cage.
    I stand slowly, realizing what had happened. I’d released the dæmon that had been sealed away for centuries. But his full power wasn’t restored, so he attacked me. So I . . . barked at him, and this is the result?
    “Pup . . . what have you done?” I hear Csarah’s voice, and she leads Clarabeth towards me.
    “This isn’t good,” Clara murmurs. “You didn’t heed my warning. I told you that he could convince you to open the Cage.”
    I swallow. “Clara, I . . .” My ear twitches and I look behind me, the dæmon unconscious among the rubble. I cautiously step over, my hand tight around the key hanging from my neck. When I’m close enough to see the dæmon, I jump back, my breath caught in my throat. There’s a gaping hole in the man’s chest.
    Csarah gasps next to me.
    “What is it, Csarah?” Clara asks her.
    “I’ve . . . I’ve killed him.” I drop to my knees.
    Csarah tells Clara what is in front of us, and she puts her hand to her mouth. “Kalcifer, defeated?”
    The crowd inches closer, observing the debris. I put my face in my hands.
    “I killed him. I took a life.” I whimper, my ears down in despair. “Formidable monster or not, I killed someone. I’m a murderer.” I’m close to tears.
    Clarabeth touches my shoulder. “I suppose if there were anyone who could have killed him, it would have been you. You are your father’s daughter, after all. It was your bark that brought us out here. It rose to a grand crescendo through the trees.”
    I can feel a single tear threatening when my left ear twitches.
    “You think I can die that easily?” A voice says, and suddenly there’s a tight grip on my shoulder and I jump. I turn my head to see the dæmon, Kalcifer I believe, panting, one hand on my shoulder, the other over the hole in his chest.
    I bolt to my feet and jump a few steps back, my tail up and wary.
    The other villagers run and hide in their homes, while Csarah tugs Clarabeth behind a tree.
    “But - I killed you! You have a hole in your chest! How could you possible be standing?” I’m waving my arms to prove my point. Inside, I’m thinking that in this crazy Castlen, perhaps anything is possible.
    Kalcifer stands strongly, as if no wound was there. “You stupid cur. I will never die from such a weak power as yours.”
    I flush, my ears burning. I ripped a whole through his body with my voice! That hardly seems weak to me!
    But, he winces, and falls to one knee, holding the wound. He looks to be truly in pain.
    “Damned be you, mongrel,” he grounds out through his teeth. Then he lifts his head and looks around. “‘Tis a beautiful night . . . what year is this? How long have I been in that prison?”
    I swallow. “Long enough, I’d say. You talk like you’re a millennium old.”
    He struggles to his feet again. “What is your name, mutt? Who are your parents?”
    I feel a soft whimper. I have no name. I open my mouth to say who my parents are, but am cut off.
    “Her name is Kanala,” says Clarabeth behind me. She and Csarah approach us, not appearing very afraid.
    I turn to Clara, my head tilted. “Kanala?”
    “It is the Neket word for ‘crescendo’. With a voice like that, what name could be more fitting?” Csarah smiles.
    I test the word in my head, liking the sound of it. I then recall that my mother’s name is similar: Hanala. What does that mean?
    “And her parents are Nosk

“And her parents are Nosk and Hanala, Kalcifer,” Clara says. “I’m sure you remember Hanala. The woman with the green eyes? She was your guardian for a while.”
    “Ah, yes,” Kalcifer responds. “Whatever happened to her?”
    Clara faces the ground. “Ochisilla killed her.”
    Kalcifer blinks. “The little dove? I thought that her power had gone to her head. I could smell her lust for it on her very skin. Why would she kill her? Did she have a motive?”
    Clara points in my general direction. “That was her motive. She wanted to make Kanala a soldier in her army of hybrids. But Hanala wouldn’t allow it.”
    Kalcifer looks to be thinking something over, but then he widens his eyes and snaps at Clara. “You, woman. Why have my powers not been freed? The mongrel unlocked my cage.”
    I look down.
    “Because the key unlocks much more than simply the cage, Kalcifer. It unlocks your very strength.” Clara sighs. “And force won’t set you free. The key can only be used by Kanala and her alone. There is a powerful charm put on it that will not allow anyone but that of Nosk and Hanala’s blood to touch it.”
    Kalcifer begins scowling at me once he hears this. “Damned be you all. I will not grovel, cur. I warn you that if you do not unlock my powers, I will see to it that you do not see morning.”
    Clara chuckles. “You’re just as dense as they say. Didn’t you hear me? Only Kanala can unfasten the seal on your powers. If she dies, you can’t be freed.”
    He frowns. “That is simply unfair! Why should the power of a being such as I be netted! And by a cur! I am the most powerful being alive!”
    I sigh. “I’m telling you, if you don’t quit calling me names, you’ll never be freed.”
    He pauses, teeth clenched, then sighs gruffly. “Hell damns you.”
    I nod. “It must, for it to have laid someone like you in my lap.” I turn to Clarabeth. “Clara, tell me that I won’t have to deal with him. He’s rude.”
    She shrugs. “He’s out of the cage, Kanala. I don’t know what to do. He can very well do as he pleases now, to a certain point, of course.”
    I turn back to Kalcifer, and blush when I again see that he’s nude. I look away and cough awkwardly. “Do you realize that you’re naked?”
    He looks at himself. “Oh, do not tell me you are embarrassed.” He puts a hand on his forehead. “I’ve been released from my prison by a child.”
    I growl. “I am not a child! I just don’t like seeing men naked, okay!”
    “Oh, wonderful! A child who is a sapphic!”
    I flush. “I am not a lesbian!”

    The next day I wake up to the sun shining brightly directly in my eyes. I sit up with a groan, feeling as tired as ever. I yawn and get to my feet, stretching my muscles. I open the door to my room and am met with a flustered Csarah, her ears down and her hair a mess. She’s holding a bowl of something that smells delectable.
    I cock my head, hearing loud, annoyed voices. “What’s going on?”
    She sighs. “Kalcifer. He’s bathing and such, and demanding to have clothes made and demanding food and demanding and demanding and demanding. The entire village is so scared that they’re doing everything he asks. It’s so tiring.” She holds out the bowl to me. “I made you some breakfast. It’s a thing we call Suina.”
    I tilt my head the other way, my right ear flopping slightly. “‘Suina’?”
    “It’s Neket for ‘morning’. It’s a food to make one awake and alert.”
    I feel like I’m remembering something from my . . . past . . . some similar item in it. I feel like it starts with a k, but can’t quite put my finger on it. I brush the feeling aside and take the bowl. “What’s in it?”
    She smiles, looking even younger. “Trust me; you don’t want to know.” With that, she leaves, probably to tend to Clara or something.
    I peer into the bowl. It looks like a creamy stew with black bits of something in it. I sniff it, and it smells good, so I tip the bowl back.
    After about twenty minutes of hysteric coughing, I follow the voices and find a hut with several people surrounding it. Most likely where Kalcifer is, the wretch.
    I pause. Did I just think the word ‘wretch’? I suddenly feel very set into this world.
    “Let me through, keeper of the key here,” I mumble, pushing through the crowd. I manage to get through and am surprised by what I see.
    It’s Kalcifer, I’m sure, judging by the black markings on his body. But he looks totally different.
    His skin is clean, the dirt gone. I realize that he’s not as dark as I thought that he was; that must have been a la
yer of grime - though he is still tan. He’s dressed in a shirt that looks slightly similar to mine, though made of something like brown leather, and pants the same. But what strikes me is his hair: it’s cut shortish. It’s still very messy, and is shiny now from the bath.
    If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was attractive.
    I smirk and enter the room, standing next to him. “You clean up well, dæmon.”
    “Whatever. Shut up, mutt.”
    I bl
ink. I was expecting ‘silence’ or something. Where’d his thousand-year-old vernacular go?
    “Uh . . .” I say, confused. “Why are you talking like you’re my age?”
    He brings his eyebrows together. “What’re you talking abou-” He pauses. “Oh. That. It’s easy to pick up on the common way of talking if you listen long enough. I was in that cage for almost four hundred years. A lot has changed since I was out of it. For example,” he points to a random Neket man. “the Neket didn’t wear any clothes.”
    I think. I’m glad they wear clothes now.
    “How old are you?” He asks.
    I look up, confused. “I’m seventeen. Why?”
    He leans back. “You’re even younger than a whelp! I thought you were at least two hundred.”
    I furrow my brow. “Two hundred? I’ll die before then!”
    “Not necessarily, mutt. You have dæmon blood. You’ll live a long, long life. Believe me; I have.”
    “Why? How old are you?” I tilt my head.
    “Actually, in about five days I’ll be six hundred and fifty-eight.”
    I cough. “Six hundred! That’s ridiculous!”
    He frowns. “Why is that?”
    “Nothing can live that long.”
    “Dæmons do.”
    I sigh. I still don’t know much about this place. How long does the average human live? How long will I live?
    My ear twitches and I turn to see Clarabeth and Csarah standing in the doorway. Clara waves her hand at the Neket in the room and they promptly leave, closing the door behind him. I give a questioning look.
    “Kanala, Kalcifer,” Clara says. “we must have a very serious discussion about your plans.”
   
    “What?” I ask, my eyes wide. I’d completely forgotten.
    Csarah frowns. “Do you mean you won’t help us?”
    I shake my head. “Think about what you’re asking me to do.”
    “Yeah,” Kalcifer adds. “You can’t think that I’ll travel with this dog.”
    I roll my eyes briefly.
    “Kanala, please understand. You have an immunity to Bloodbond. You’re the only one who can kill Ochisilla. And Kalcifer is very powerful. He can help you.”
    “And what makes you think I’ll help? I don’t owe anything to you people. If anything, you owe me for imprisoning me for four centuries!” Kalcifer’s tail is lashing wildly, and I begin to feel uncomfortable with the extra pressure in the air.
    “Kalcifer, you were killing innocent beings left and right. We had no choice. By the way, I’m curious why you haven’t attacked us or anything of the sort?”
    He crosses his arms. “I have more sense than you think. It wasn’t this generation directly that sealed me. It was your ancestors, and you were just following tradition. I’m not that impulsive.” He looks like something deeper is bothering him as he stares at the floor, and I feel kind of sad for some reason.
    “Nonetheless, Kanala, what else did you intend to do? Don’t you want to save your brother?” Clara’s ex
pression is intent.
    It registers that I’ve also forgotten about my brother, and I feel awful. I forgot about my own flesh and blood who is in the clutches of a deranged bird sorceress. “I - I do . . .”
    “This is the only way to do it.” Clara says evenly. I wince. Putting aside the death factor, Ochisilla is crazy powerful from what I’ve heard!
    “Clara, if my father couldn’t even kill her, what makes you think I can?” I recall the wound I inflicted on Kalcifer, but am sure that if it didn’t even really wound him all that badly, how would it take down Ochisilla?
    “Kanala, Ochisilla was performing Bloodbond on Nosk when she killed him. She had the upper hand. And the injury you delivered to Kalcifer. He is much, much more powerful than Ochisilla. Your voice only created a small hole from which he recovered overnight.”
    I interrupt her. “Your wound healed?” I turn to Kalcifer, my ears forward.
    He frowns. “I’m a dæmon. Of course it did.” He lifts his shirt up enough for me to see that there is no hole, no wound, not even a patch of discolored skin to mark a scar. As if I’d never even hurt him in the first place. I stare in wonder.
    Kalcifer abruptly shoves his shirt back into place, giving me an annoyed look.
    “Kanala, focus.” Clarabeth sounds irritated. “If your voice could do that to Kalcifer, it could do much more to Ochisilla. She is technically only a bird, after all. She isn’t a real dæmon.”
    I feel a tingling in my core, a desire to bring Ochisilla down. I want to swallow it down, but I can’t. It’s the dæmon in me. “O . . . okay. I’ll do it.”
    Clara smiles. “Good! Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
    Kalcifer growls behind me, but I wave my hand. “Shut up. Okay, so, what do I do? Where does Ochisilla live?”
    “You’re getting ahead of yourself. You may be powerful, Kanala, but you don’t even have the slightest idea how to fight.”
    I frown. “But I managed to fend off Ochisilla when I arrived here.”
    “Yes, well, you only managed to scathe her. You scared her off. You need to truly learn how to defend yourself.”
    “Okay, fine.” I nod. “Who’ll teach me?”
    Clara opens her mouth to say something, but closes it and hesitates to speak. “No one in Nekun can teach you. We only know how to hunt. You need combat training.” I see her brow furrow as she thinks.
    “Um, I may have an idea.” Csarah raises her hand.
    I tilt my head. “Oh?”
    “Yeah, I’ve heard about some person named Dastin who has some amazing teaching methods.”
    “Dastin?” Clara turns towards Csarah. “I’ve never heard of such a person. What are his teaching methods?”
    Csarah shrugs. “I’m not sure. He lives in a small town past Caste.”
    “Caste?” I question.
    “Caste is the capital of Castlen,” Clara clarifies. “It’s the largest city in the country. You must be careful if you are to pass through there.”
    I tilt my head. “Why?”
    Csarah frowns. “Hybrids are frowned upon.”
    I look down, my tail falling limp. “Oh.”
    There’s a moment of silence until Kalcifer yawns. “Okay, whatever. We going, mutt?”
    I turn sharply. “You’re agreeing?”
    “Oh, don’t think for a second that I’m doing it for you or anyone here. I’m doing it because I have to follow you around until you decide to let me go. Plus, Ochisilla creeps me out. It’d be nice to get rid of her. And I’m sure she has some of my friends’ kids in that army of hers. Might as well help them out.”
    “Would it kill you to say that you want to help?” I say. But I’m smiling. I can tell that he does want to help.
    He scoffs. “I have no reason to help a bunch of long-eared cowards and a mutt who can’t find her own tail.”
    I grimace. “At least I’m not covered in tattoos.”
    His eyes widen and he flashes his sharp teeth. “These - these are markings, you cur!”





FIVE

    It’s late at night and I’m sitting high in a tree, staring at the sky. Kalcifer and I agreed to leave around midday tomorrow to wherever this Dastin person lives.
    I gaze intensely at the moon, a feeling of deep longing and sorrow tiring me. Why do I feel lonely?
    I snicker quietly to myself. Well, I am part dog. Maybe I want a master.
    “What’s so funny?” a voice says. I look over at Kalcifer, who has perched on a limb right of me.
    “Nothing,” I say briskly. “What do you want?”
    His tail flicks. “Nothing.”
    I glare at him for a moment, but sigh. “Kalcifer, can I ask you something?”
    “What?”
    “Did you know my mother?”
    He looks at me, then looks down, thinking. “Hanala, right? She was the only guard I’d had that wasn’t hostile towards me. She was actually kind. Even fed me.”
    I sit up. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t have a thing for my mother.”
    He snarls. “Hell, no! Even if she was nice, she was still a human. And my warden. I could never even have the tiniest appreciation for her.” He glances at me. “You look a lot like her, to be honest. Except that she had jade eyes. And, you know, she wasn’t a mongrel.”
    I ponder this. What was my mother truly like? Do I really look like her?
    “Did you know my father?”
    “What was his name?”
    “Nosk.”
    “No, sorry.”
    “Oh.” I get more comfortable. “Do you speak Neket?”
    He leans back on the base of the tree, arms crossed. “I know a little, why?”
    “What does Hanala mean?”
    He looks directly forward. “Well, Hana means ‘soft’ and La means ‘sound’, so I think it means ‘song’.”
    “And my name? La means ‘sound’, but what does Kana mean?”
    “Err, I think ‘rise’.”
    That makes sense. A crescendo is a rising sound. “Why was my mother’s name Hanala?”
    He looks away and I can’t see his face. “She had a pretty voice.”
   
    “Clara, Csarah, we’re leaving!”
    It’s been three hours since I said that. My feet are sore and I’m tired.
    “Kalcifer, can’t we take a break?”
    He turns slightly, tail swishing. I again wonder what sort of dæmon he is. “Oh, come on, cur! We’re not even to the next village yet!”
    I groan loudly. He groans too.
    “Okay, fine! We’ll rest over there.”
    I spot a clearing through the trees and follow him, smiling.
    “Hand me an apple?” I ask, reaching out.
    Kalcifer pulls an apple out of his bag and looks at me, then takes a bite of it. “Get your own.”
    I scowl at him and snatch his bag, fishing an apple out of it. The apples in Castlen are a bright orange color with red speckles. I bite into it, savoring the sweet flavor. The sun is high in the sky and illuminates the world. It’s a very lovely day; maybe one or two small clouds against the vast blue sky.
    “I wonder who this Dastin guy is. Have you ever heard of him?” I turn to Kalcifer.
    He doesn’t turn to me and takes another bite. “I’ve been in a cage for four hundred years, mutt. What in Hell do you think?”
    My ears go back. I’d almost forgotten. “Right, sorry.”
    He slides a single glance my way, then returns to his apple. I take a moment to look at his face. The years of dirt and no baths had muddled my first view of Kalcifer. It made him look menacing and scary. But now he looks like just a guy with red eyes, black markings, elf ears, and a tail.
    Which reminds me, I think. I could really use a bath.
    “Hey, Kal?” I say, turning back.
    He snaps at me. “Don’t ever call me that.”
    My ears go back again. “Sorry. Anyway, how do people bathe here?”
    He looks confused, but then looks like he understands. “Oh, yeah. The old woman told me that you’re not exactly from here. Not every place is like Nekun. There are actual cities with actual baths. And their clothes aren’t made from dæmon parts.” He looks at his clothes briefly. “It feels strange to wear a bull dæmon’s skin.
    I briefly wonder what my clothes are made of. “When we get to the next village, can we maybe stay the night?”
    He rolls his eyes. “Mutt, really? Can’t we just keep going?”
    I throw my apple at his head. It hits him dead on and I take a second to admire my aim. “Hey, you had a bath yesterday. I didn’t. And I’d like one.”
    He rubs his head. “*censored*! Do that again and see what happens!”
    I hold out the key around my neck. “Nothing really bad can happen considering I have this.” I smile coyly.
    He growls. “Fine! We’ll stay the night! Hell.”
    I smile. I’ve won.

    An hour after the sun sets we find a village.
    I look around curiously, wondering what sort of people will live here. Will they be more Neket? Or something stranger?
    My right ear swivels and I hear a clatter.