She appeared to him in a dream as he slept the next day.

Sopher’s form had the shape of a mouse in a long, white dress. The folds and ribbons of her gown were rolling sheets of paper, covered in the most elegant calligraphy. Her tail was a long, red ribbon; just like the book’s attached book-mark. Her face and paws were made of golden light, and her eyes were like splatters of blue ink.

Under Mousey’s paws the ground felt like parchment, and as he took in his surroundings he realized that the two of them stood upon the open pages of an enormous book.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” said Sopher, her voice as soft and warm as it had been when Mousey had first heard it.

“It’s no trouble at all,” said Mousey, scratching behind one of his ears.

“As I said, in turn I shall rescue you,” Sopher spoke. “Our time together has been brief, but I already know this much about you: you are far too kind of heart to want to be part of the Nocturnal Patrol. Or any of Queen Felicia’s army, for that matter.”

Mousey sighed and nodded his head. “That’s true. I want nothing to do with it, but I haven’t found an opportunity to escape yet.”

“I will provide you with your escape,” said Sopher. “But I must know where to start. Tell me, Mousey, what do you know about magic?”

“I know that it exists.” Mousey shrugged. “I’ve read many stories about famous wizards, sorceresses, and enchanters who’ve had great influence over history. Beyond that… I don’t really know anything.”

Sopher nodded her head. “So, you have much to learn. Let us start with the basics. Magic is based on two things: imagination and knowledge. You bend reality to your will using the force of your imagination, but in order to change the world you must also understand it. Furthermore, the more you know, the more you can imagine.”

Sopher raised her right paw, gesturing to the pages upon which they stood. “Here, in my world, magic comes far easier than it will in the real world. Mousefred, I want you to imagine something for me. Something from one of the other books you’ve read, or something from your past. Just make sure that whatever it is, it makes you feel safe.”

Mousey looked down at the paper floor and thought for a moment. Something that made him feel safe. He’d not thought about anything pleasant for a long time, aside from what he read in books. But now, as he thought back on it, he remembered his mother’s farmhouse. He recalled the dandelions growing all around that little hovel, and the sounds of laughter whenever his brothers and sisters were at play. He recalled the smell of baked bread, just fresh out of the oven, and the sound of distant sparrow songs.

He could almost hear the sparrows’ songs now, almost smell the baked bread. When he looked up he realized why. Just beyond Sopher, there sat his mother’s hovel, surrounded by dandelions. Smoke rose from the chimney, carrying the scent of bread.

Tears welled up in Mousey’s eyes as he stared at this haven of peace. Home. Oh, he had no idea until today just how delicious bread could smell, and how beautiful that little farmhouse could look.

He walked forward and stopped just outside the front door.

Sopher placed a paw on his shoulder. “You were able to create this place in such detail because you’re so familiar with it. You know this house more intimately than any place, or anything, in all the world.”

“Will it disappear if I touch it?” Mousey asked, his paw hovering over the door handle.

“At your current magical proficiency? Yes,” said Sopher. “If you want to be able to open the door and walk around inside you have to get better at magic. Practice more. I’ll guide you every step of the way, Mousefred.”

“Can you call me Mousey?” he asked. “I always feel like I’m in trouble when I hear my full name.”

“If it will please you, I will,” said Sopher. “Mousey, I want you to try imagining a few more things. Let’s try... something that makes you feel excited…”

And so Mousey’s magical education began. Every night, he endured Nocturnal Patrol training, but daylight hours he spent his time learning magic; whether through dreams or by expanding his knowledge in the library. Weeks went by, and Mousey started applying what he learned in small ways in his everyday life. Even in his training with the Nocturnal Patrol he found himself doing better every day.

He’d never forget the night that he was among the first three recruits to finish their laps around the tower, and he saw a look of pride in Nycht’s eyes. He never thought of himself as seeking the lieutenant’s approval, but the moment he got it just felt so wonderful.

“Remember,” Sopher said one day, “I’m not teaching you magic so that you can use it as a beast of the Nocturnal Patrol, I’m doing it so you can escape from them.”

“Yes, of course I remember,” said Mousey.

At the time, he thought it strange that Sopher felt the need to remind him of the true purpose for his magical training. Had he not shown every day that he wanted to leave this place? Had he not re-created his mother’s farmhouse nigh every time he dreamed? Why remind him of his own goal?

His answer came with the next sunset.

Mousey shuffled out of the barracks with the rest of the recruits, ready for another arduous night of training. He was already planning out what he’d do. He’d cause little gusts of wind to help him fly faster, or warp the climbing ropes so he could get a better grip.

But, as he came out the door, Lieutenant Nycht pressed a paw to his chest, preventing him from following the rest of the recruits. “Not this time, Mousefred,” he said.

Mousey looked up at the lieutenant in confusion.

“You don’t need any more training,” said Lieutenant Nycht. “You are finally ready to become a member of the Nocturnal Patrol. Follow me.”

Mousey felt an uneasy mix of disgust and pride as he followed Lieutenant Nycht up the nearest spiral staircase. They were headed to the roof, where many a young recruit before him had sworn their oaths of loyalty and become Nocturnal Patrolbeasts.

“The Queen herself has come here for this moment,” said Lieutenant Nycht.

Mousey’s mouth fell open, but he quickly snapped it shut again. His mind was abuzz with questions about the Queen, but he had learned better than to speak out of turn.

Nycth continued. “Make sure you bow when appropriate, and avoid looking her in the eye, like we taught you.”

“Yes, lieutenant,” said Mousey.

As they climbed ever upward, Mousey looked out each and every window they passed. There had to be some way out of this place. But the windows were all barred, and the gaps between the bars were too small even for him to climb through. Even if he could get through, it was a long way to the ground. And even if he could get to his wings -which were still in the armory- and fly away, there were the archers in the surrounding woods to deal with.

Sopher had taught him some truly amazing magic, but never anything so incredible that it would allow him to fight off so many archers at once.

Maybe he could escape the first time he was sent on patrol?

Mousey and Nycht finally arrived at the roof of the tower. On either side of the two of them dozens of bats stood at attention. Each were clad in black armor, with swords in hand, held out above Mousey and Nycht’s heads as a salute.

Up ahead, Mousey saw a prisoner wearing brown robes, with a burlap sack over his head. The prisoner had been forced onto his knees, and his wrists were tied behind his back.

Beyond the kneeling prisoner stood the Queen herself.

She was a cat with long, black fur, and was far larger than Mousey had imagined. She stood, towering over every other beast on top of that tower, wearing a red and gold dress. She grinned at him, bearing a set of perfectly white, and perfectly sharp, teeth. Mousey shuddered as he realized how easily his whole body could fit in her mouth, trapped between those fangs.

It was an Unpardonable, a deep wrong to eat a thinking beast, but mice could not survive betting all larger animals kept such morality in mind at all times.

“There is no reason to fear, my servant,” said Queen Felicia. Her voice was so sweet that it made Mousey’s stomach turn. Even one so naïve as he could tell when kindness was false. “This night, you will join my army, and help maintain order in this realm. No longer are you a lowly mouse; you are a bat of the Nocturnal Patrol.” She raised a paw and extended a single claw. “There is but one more test. Lieutenant Nycht, would you do the honors?”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Lieutenant Nycht. He turned to Mousey, drew his sword, and placed it in Mousey’s paws. “Every initiate has to execute a prisoner, to show that they are willing to do what is necessary.”

Mousey felt his gut drop. They expected him to spill blood? Truly there would be no turning back if he went through with this.

He looked down at his reflection in the blade. If he went through with this, he’d be a true monster, just like the rest of the Nocturnal Patrol. The blood would never truly wash off his paws.

Or his soul.

This isn’t what Sopher trained me for…

Nycht walked over to the prisoner who knelt before Queen Felicia. He yanked off the burlap sack, revealing his face to Mousey.

Mousey gasped.

His friend looked even worse than he had the day they first met. His cheeks were sunken in, and his skin was a paler shade of green, but it was definitely him.

Queen Felicia expected Mousey to execute Sir Ranae.