Part 1 Impossible Magics

This room has become,

for me, a very strange place.

Governed by a door and a window…

so long as both are closed,

the door may open to any exit my heart desires,

the window to any view.

~ from The Room,

Ruminations on Vampirism (1811),

Wilhelm d. Blanc

“There are a small number of scholars in the modern world who have turned their attention to the legends of the sister isles, Atlantis and Alti. They largely find their work treated as fiction and conjecture.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

Flames the color of onyx, their centers laced with a deep purple haze, leapt and crawled across the burning timbers of the scorched walls. They ran with the melting glass that slid from windows broken only moments before, and settled in draping veils across the cold metal of the entryway door. Silver stood with her back to the only wall not yet consumed by fire, eyes shining with terror and bright with the reflection of the dancing flames.

They blocked her every path of escape.

How many times had she been here now? How many times had she re-lived this moment? Silver had lost count long ago, and was too caught up in the hysteria of the moment to calm her own terrified heart long enough to care. Now as then, there was no one to help her. No one to wake her. No one to end the chaos.

Her fingers scratched at the cool plaster of the wall behind her as her eyes cast through the ebony flames and the dark pall they cast, seeking for the stairwell.

This house was her home. This place where she stood trapped, flames eating away at its walls, was her sanctuary, and there were other people there with her – the family she had lost and continued to lose, time after time after time.

But no more. Now, she had fought the Zara and lived. She had taken the Dawn Stone from him. She had the wolf, and she had her magic.

Fighting panic, Silver pushed off the wall into the burning flames. They were on her instantly, pulling at her clothing and burning the soft skin of her arms and face. They surrounded her, hissing and roaring with the voice of a storm at sea. Her lungs burned as she coughed, swallowing smoke and bile in place of air. The world pitched and whirled around her. Shadows clung to the walls and ceiling, and when she finally reached the stairs to the upper level of her home, the stairs and the shadows, both, seemed to stretch on into infinity.

Undaunted, Silver fought her way upwards, choking as every breath sent sharp pain through her lungs. Fire whipped past the peripherals of her vision. The stairs beneath her feet were lost in smoke and ash, but she knew when she reached the threshold of the final step. Her feet carried her over, up, and then…she stared around in amazement.

Ebony flames still licked at the backs of her heels, sending billows of heat up from below, but within the silent hallway, there was no fire. A hush had descended over everything. Each breath still tickled the back of her throat, but the smoke had cleared.

“I made it,” she said aloud to herself, afraid for a moment that her voice, too, would be swallowed up by the silence. It was not. The world did not instantly collapse around her. So, she turned to take a step towards the last door to her right. Her parents would be there. In this dream at least, she could tell them about the danger downstairs, warn them of the nightmares that plagued their future.

Each step carried her closer to her destination. Her footfalls fell heavily in the soft carpeting. In contrast to the heat below, the air that now circled her was chill and laced with the cold breath of an alien breeze. Gone was the familiar warmth of a home – now only the hollow whispers of a grave remained.

The first traces of tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes as she lifted her fingers to the freezing metal of the doorknob to her parents’ room. She turned it smoothly, heard the soft click of the lock as the door began to open. Then heat blew the door back against her and wiped the last illusion of cold from the air in the hallway. Her fragile hopes went with it.

Beyond the door there was nothing – nothing besides the crashing, burning flames that she had thought were well behind her. This fire, however, crackled with the orange and yellow light of a normal flame. Twisting around, she saw that the flames had breached the top of the stairs as well, and gone was the black pall that had lit them before; only the rich scarlets and golds of true fire lit the remains of the house now.

Turning back, she felt a cold chill run down her spine. She tightened her grip on the now searing metal of the doorknob, seemingly unaware that it was burning the skin of her palm. All she could see through the flames in the room was a single mirror. Its glass was unscathed, untouched by the fire, and the blinding silver and gold of its frame showed no signs of melting.

Her gaze hardened.

It had never been there before.

Silver blinked as the flames swelled, and suddenly the room was gone. She stood instead in the snow, staring in horror at a wildfire that roared through the trees of a great forest. What forest, she had no idea. How she had gotten there, she had no clue. But she stepped back and felt her foot slide wetly through mud. Icy water bit at her bare heels.

Silver twisted around once more, eyes finding the black waters of some lake or river, alight with the blinding blaze that pressed her inevitably back. A haunting call cut through her dreams then, drawing her back with a shudder from the nightmares that had consumed her. Slowly the sound grew louder, more insistent. It was a deep, rich keening that fluctuated as rhythmically as the ocean current, rising and falling, forcing her back to the waking world.

After what seemed an eternity, it faded. Silver stirred in her sleep. Her fingers curled reflexively into sheets stiff with woody fibers, but nonetheless warm. There was a part of her still reeling from her nightmares, another part now alarmed by the sense that yet again, she did not know where she was. These were not the sheets of her bed, not the sheets of the bed in Cara’s house deep in the woods, not the sheets of the MASO…she looked much younger than her nineteen years as she blinked open hazel green eyes and stared numbly at an unfamiliar ceiling. A jaunty shadow of freckles across her face softened her pale features, which were now shadowed by long strands of auburn-brown hair. The vulnerability in her expression warred with the suspicion that something had gone terribly wrong. But the place where Silver found herself did not feed into her suspicions.

Thin rays of morning light fell in dappled patches across the bed where she lay, catching in the fur of a gray figure draped across her toes; a wolf. The sight might have alarmed anyone who did not know Elorian and had not fought and traveled alongside the beasts for weeks now. To Silver, it was a welcome sight, and it brought her some small modicum of relief. More so when the beast lifted its head at the sun’s touch, revealing a beloved and expressive face with slightly rounded ears and a slowly tapering muzzle. Silvery gray fur ran in a shaggy ruff from its dark nose to the tip of its tail, and when the wolf fixed Silver with its eyes, they were a rich and unusual shade of emerald green. Its ears flared questioningly.

Silver’s only response was to blink thoughtfully, and then ask, “Where are we?”

Her voice came out raspy and thick, broken from long hours of disuse. When there came no immediate answer, her thoughts strayed to the fight with the Zara that had pushed her into an exhausted slumber. She remembered the heat of the magic that had flowed through her when she hurled it against the Zara’s shadow-shrouded figure, and the image of the young, crimson dragon standing at her side, a dagger clutched between its beak-like jaws. She recalled seeing her…well, not so much friend as forced, you’ll-probably-die-if-I’m-not-here partner in crime, Bek Trent, nearly killed by the shadow beast’s onslaught.

Even thinking of the injuries they had sustained or the desperate circumstances that had driven them both out into the northern forests made her shiver. It also made her aware of the alien heaviness in her limbs and the gross taste of ash in her mouth…and that she did not know where the hatchling dragon was.

Startling the wolf, Silver sat up suddenly to look around. The room was incredibly plain. There was a worn, deep blue rug on the hard wood floor, and the walls were finished wood mixed with some sort of clay. The only furniture was her bed, which felt like it was filled with bean castings, the single nightstand beside it, and a mirror with a small, angular table pressed up against the wall beneath it. A wooden bowl and pitcher sat on the table, its purpose clear enough; she had a sense she was somewhere without plumbing. At least the room had a window, and one that was not barred or even, apparently, fitted with glass. It had shutters instead, opened a crack to the daylight beyond.

Silver exhaled slowly. Stepping lightly from the bed, she tested her balance. Although every joint in her body felt stiff, she could stand without too much trouble. Someone had removed her old clothes and replaced them with a shapeless gown, no doubt because her old things were filthy and covered in blood. They could be fixed. She sighed; pretty much anything could be fixed as long as she was in one piece, as far as she was concerned. At least whoever had changed her clothes had been possessed of the decency to leave her underwear intact.

Still careful to make no sound on the hard floor, Silver slipped around to the other side of the bed, found her boots but did not put them on, and then crept to the two adjacent doors leading out of the room.

“Elorian,” she asked softly when she could find no discernible doorknob, “where are Seijelar and Bek?”

She ran a hand across the featureless wood, thinking. The dragons were still tiny things, not that much larger than the wolf. Seijelar would never have left her by choice. Bek she was less certain about, after she had saved the Zara’s life despite his warnings. If Silver were him, she would have left herself behind.

“The dragon feared for her brother,” the wolf growled softly, and the quick dart of its eyes told Silver behind which door the two dragons could be found. By the slight lift of the wolf’s lip, she guessed they were with Bek. As if summoned by the wolf’s rumble, a sharp rap sounded against that door, and before Silver had a chance to reach for it, it swung open.

She was a little surprised, despite what the wolf had said, to see Bek, but he did not spare time for a greeting. Instead, he turned his washed-out bronze eyes past her, peering around the small room, and finally narrowed them as they settled on the slightly open window. The room did not appear to be built for anyone much over six foot, so Bek stood with his sandy blonde hair nearly brushing the heavy frame of the door. Since the day she had met him, there had been a speculative light to his eyes, and it remained with him now. There was also something hard about his expression, something direct and purposeful, that had felt out of place in the humdrum of everyday life when they met – it did not feel out of place now. She knew, anyway, what he must be thinking. No one intent on keeping the two of them contained would have left them an open window. At least, that was what she knew she should be thinking. Instead, she was imagining what a mess she had to be, and wishing her gown was a bit longer.

Skourett, the crimson-striped black hatchling that favored Bek over her, was curled deftly around the boy’s knees; the beast had grown too large to drape around his shoulders. Seeing her, the beast mewed contentedly. Only then did she see Seijelar peering out from behind the two, deep crimson scales ruffled with irritation.

“Silver,” Bek turned his gaze back to her, but his words faded on his tongue.

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you’re alive, too,” she finished for him, “but where are we?” Bek ran a hand over his hair, which looked to be finger-combed.

“I don’t know. I only just woke up, but Skourett thinks it’s been several days. I’m not too surprised after what we went through, but,” he looked her up and down as she frowned and tried to look like she was not embarrassed at all, “trying to save the Zara was the dumbest thing I’ve seen you do yet. I thought you’d killed yourself when you lost consciousness…but in the end, you managed to get the Stone.”

The Dawn Stone.

Silver looked down at her clothing, and then at the rumpled sheets of the bed where the wolf watched her in silence. The Stone had been the reason they had chased down the Zara. It was a powerful magical artifact Zien, alpha of the tree wolves, planned to trade to the vampires to secure their help in the conflict between beasts and men. It had been in Silver’s hand when she lost consciousness.

“I don’t know where it is,” Silver said suddenly, whirling around and striding to the edge of the bed.

“I have it.”

She froze, the hatchling dragon’s voice echoing in both her mind and ears. Silver turned to see Seijelar holding the Dawn in one crimson paw, looking particularly smug. Approaching slowly, uncertain whether she was relieved or horrified that the Stone was still in their possession, Silver bent to retrieve it from the dragon’s claws. At the same time, she fingered the golden chain of Bek’s necklace, relieved to find it still around her neck. The necklace made it impossible for the Zara to touch her without losing their substance, and it had saved her life once already.

“Good work, Seijelar.” She stroked the dragon’s bony skull, fingers tightening around the Stone in her palm.

“What happened after the Zara left?” she asked then, straightening and turning her attention back to Bek, who had been watching the exchange carefully. She knew he did not want the Stone to be in their possession. He had not wanted her to go after the Zara in the first place. “How did we get here?”

“I don’t know any more than you. Skourett tried to explain, but nothing he said made any sense. Have you tried the window?” Bek asked, gesturing at the partially open shutters. Silver took the hint, moving towards the open window. She could see the warm glow of the summer sun beyond, but when she reached for the shutters, felt the bite of some foreign magic. It was sharp and hot, like static electricity. She pulled her hand back, certain that the little shock she had received was only a warning.

“Electricity?”

Silver nodded, and Bek frowned. She assumed that, as an electromancer, he knew far more about such magics than she could ever hope to.

“Wherever this place is, we have been well and thoroughly locked in,” he observed. When she turned to stare at him, he seemed to hesitate a moment before saying, “Can you sense it? The very air here reeks with magic. The Dawn normally has an incredibly powerful magical aura, one reason, I’m sure, that the beasts went to such lengths to hide it away. But here…honestly, I couldn’t sense it until Seijelar showed it to me. Does the wolf know anything?”

Elorian had turned away from the both, but she could see its thoughts in the line of its body when it leapt down from the bed to join her beside the window.

“Only that I know this place.”

“You do?” she asked.

Bek looked between them, able to understand only her half of the conversation, but the wolf gave no further answer. It looked perplexed, and she was pretty sure she understood why.

Turning once more to the chink of open window, Silver flicked her hair out of her eyes and angled herself so that she could look out across the uneven earth and the beginnings of a great forest that crowded in on it. Trees stretched far into the endless sky. Their trunks were twice and again her arm span around, their bark deep brown, pitted and wrinkled with age. Tilting her head back, she could make out pine mingled with oak, maple, birch, aspen…the trees grew so close they melded into one another, shading the unprotected earth from the morning sun. It appeared to be early summer, and the snow that had blanketed everything when she lost consciousness was nowhere to be seen.

Either Skourett was right and quite a few days had passed, or they had been moved somewhere far away. She was not entirely happy with either conclusion.

Silver felt Bek’s approach beside her, and glanced sideways in time to see his gaze also flicker to the heights of the trees. His face betrayed none of the familiarity that the wolf had suggested, and yet…she also felt it. Something in the air, something in the small room, something in the view beyond the window perhaps, but something, nonetheless.

Seijelar’s bony muzzle was nudging her fingers, and she caressed the hatchling’s arched eye ridges and delicate horns without looking down as she finally said, “I guess what’s more important at the moment is how we got here. The last thing I remember we were in the Castle of Divides, and someone was…singing.”

Bek looked at her oddly, his light bronze eyes disturbed, but she had no chance to ask why.

Someone had joined them. The remaining door of the room had slid open with barely a sound. Every one of them turned to stare at the stranger who stood framed in the doorway, and in turn, he remained with his dark eyes trained on the five of them. Precious seconds passed as they scrutinized each other.

The newcomer was a man of presence, muscular but lean, similar to Bek in height and build. His hair was a deep brown, his eyes an unassuming shade of muddy hazel. Although his expression was serious and even suspicious, there was a hint of warmth in his gaze. That warmth, Silver decided as her eyes moved to his black leather armor, might actually be polite regard. His simple cuirass was trimmed with silver and crimson, as were the cuffs of his cotton sleeves. There was a sword at his hip, the aura of magic ready at his fingertips. Those things also gave him a sense of menace.

“I believe this is our first meeting,” he said coldly. “I go by the name of Illian, and I am head of the MASO department for dealing with unregistered aliens on the soil of our Altiannia, under the grand King Altin. As of this moment, you are prisoners of our king. In coming to our nation, you have forfeited your right to your own lives and freedom.”

He paused, and Silver realized that he seemed to have an accent. A familiar one. Her heartbeat quickened, given flight by some subconscious fear.

“As prisoners, I assume you have two options. Cooperate and hope to be returned to your country of origin someday, or fail to do so and we’ll see what becomes of you. Now, I found the two of you unconscious at the edge of the Issurak, you,” he flicked a finger dismissively at Silver, “with severe magic exhaustion, and you,” he flicked the same finger at Bek, “with wounds the like of which I have not seen in years – dark magic poisoning, burn marks, and anemia. Additionally, you had no obvious identification, and were in the presence of the dragons, two offenses not lightly forgiven even for the people of this land. I saved your lives by bringing you here, and for only one reason; you two crawled out of that forest half dead, and I need to know what beast left you in that state, and why.”

Silver was surprised when Bek responded only by saying, “No one has any idea we’re here, do they?”

Illian stared at them quizzically, but made no answer.

“This isn’t the sort of place where you would interrogate prisoners unless you had no other options. It wasn’t meant to contain people. The circuits on the windows are shoddy, probably laid down while we were unconscious.”

Illian’s mouth twitched. “Would it relieve you to know no one is aware you’re here?” he asked. “Name the beast that did this.”

“Why?” Silver asked softly, surprised by the difficulty with which the word rolled off of her tongue. Bek glanced back at her sharply, but said nothing. Illian was staring at her, dark eyes never leaving her face.

“Because the beasts are a threat to our kingdom, and they must abide by the laws that protect us from their kind.”

“I meant why are you holding us in secret?” Silver pressed. Illian’s gaze hardened. The man took a swift step forward, reaching towards them so fast that Silver had no chance to react. She saw Bek pale as the man grabbed the loose fabric of his shirt and pulled forward, revealing bandages that crisscrossed his chest and arms, and dark patches where the wounds had bled through to the outside. “As I thought,” Illian said, regarding the dark patches and ignoring Bek’s steely gaze.

“I can heal him—” Silver began, but Illian barred her approach.

“No. You, young woman, are no better off than him. If your condition worsens, I will need to call for a healer, and then word of your existence will move beyond these walls. So to answer your question, if the king learns that you’re here, and with dragons no less, the two of you will face execution within two days’ time. I need you alive. It is my duty is to protect this city from the mythical beasts, and clearly, you have tales to tell. How have you stolen hatchlings from the dragons? How did you come to our land? But,” he glared down at her, “know that if you fail to cooperate, I will be doing you no more favors. After I deal with this, we’ll continue our conversation.”

Fixing her gaze on the man’s face, Silver said, “Fine. But it’s my fault he got those injuries. If what you said about dark magic poisoning is true, those wounds won’t heal on their own.” It was hard to feign confidence after she had watched more beasts than she liked to admit die due to the Zara’s evil magic, but she tried her best. It shocked her to feel a hand on her forehead before Illian could respond, and it shocked her more to realize it was Bek’s. His hand was icy against her skin.

“No, Silver.” There was a pause as he dropped his hand, and then his voice became sharper as he continued, “Listen to me. I told you about overusing your magic. Magic exhaustion can kill you, and you don’t know your limits. Not yet. Understand? Don’t push it. Not for me.”

“He’s right,” the wolf huffed from beside her, “save your strength for now. We do not know what dangers we face here.”

“Or who to trust,” Seijelar hissed.

No one but Silver seemed to know that the beasts had spoken, and she watched mutely as Illian led Bek back into the other room with Skourett tight at his heels. The door closed behind them, and Seijelar settled with a contented sigh next to the wolf, who had curled up once more on the bed. Silver wondered if she should be worried, really worried, beyond the little tightness in her stomach. The house grew very silent and still, and she waited with her back to the wall so that she could see the sun streaming in through the chink in the shuttered window.

Strangers in a land with a king. Altiannia. Magics she did not understand, and now Bek’s warning as well, that she had overextended herself. As he had said, it seemed ages ago now that he had explained to her what magic exhaustion was, and how dangerous it could be. She knew what exhaustion felt like, and using magic certainly wore her out, but at the moment she felt fine. More than fine. Stiff, sure, but otherwise rested and ready. There was a buzz in the air that must have been the magic Bek had mentioned, but it was nothing like the oppressive hum Silver had felt at the MASO; it was warm and comfortable. Her only real problem was that she was abominably hungry and had a mad craving for tuna fish and pickles, her all time, little disputed, favorite food. Of course, some peanut butter would be nice, too. Possibly even together, in the same meal.

She was somewhat surprised when her door was opened only moments later and Illian motioned her into Bek’s room, driving all thoughts – or mostly all – of food from her mind. Seijelar vanished into the room ahead of her, croaking something about blood.

When she entered, Bek was sitting up on a bed identical to her own, his eyes averted and hands resting tensely in his lap. He had not put his shirt back on, but there were no more blood stains on his bandages. Silver knew him well enough to recognize his anger, however, and also knew him well enough to avoid it. Silver took up a position leaning against the foot of the bed, as far from the injured young man as possible, and carefully faced Illian.

“Who is the king?” she asked resolutely. There is no king, she wanted to say, and there’s no way you’re part of the MASO. Neither statement seemed like a good idea.

If her question surprised him, Illian gave no sign of it. Only Bek glanced at her warily, and she wondered how much they could say, or should say, to Illian.

“There is no king at the head of the MASO anymore,” Bek broke her silence, the anger evident in his voice, “but there was once. The MASO was originally a military construct, and before the Divide, it supposedly served under a king instead of being an autonomous agency that was later annexed by the federal government…in North America, at least. That was before the war times, and before the supposed scandal in Atlantis.”

Illian’s expression became momentarily distant, and his air of formality seemed to falter, but then he simply responded, “King Altin, Renzan srinn, is the ruler of this land, and the agency known as the MASO functions under him, as you said. Now,” he looked at Silver pointedly, “I think you’ve tried my patience enough.”

Wondering if Bek would take the lead once more, she waited, but he said nothing. When the wolf settled itself at her feet and looked more expectant than worried, Silver relaxed a bit.

“You’re right, Illian, I have. My name is Silver, and my friend here is Elorian,” she gestured to the wolf, who now sat rather regally with its plumed tail curled daintily around its paws. “My dragon is Seijelar.” Bek responded in much the same way, and Illian stared at Elorian as they completed their introductions.

“Names given in the language you speak amongst yourselves…I should hardly be surprised. They will do for now,” he snapped his fingers, and a heavy cedar slab curled out from the wall behind him. Illian sat on it, opposite the two of them. “Now,” he repeated, “name the beast who did this to you.”

Silver glanced sideways at Bek, who appeared disinclined to say anything at all. Illian definitely had never heard of either of them, and did not seem to know anything about Project Biogenes, through which they had gotten the dragon eggs. She doubted he would have anything against their fighting against a Zara, though she decided it would be best not to mention the Dawn Stone or her relationship to the beasts. Both seemed to draw the kind of attention she wanted to avoid.

“He was one of the Zara,” she stated simply.

“Zara?” Illian repeated. He still did not seem overtly surprised, or would not have if Silver had not noticed the way he leaned forward slightly. “Only one?”

“This time, it was only one,” Silver answered.

“There are many more where that one came from,” Bek directed at her, and Silver felt a cold twist of fear or anger in her stomach. She did not meet his gaze.

“But we weren’t attacked in the Issurak, I don’t think,” she amended the man’s previous assertions.

“Really,” Illian asked slowly, “there are Zara in the deepwood, in the Issurak, but you say the attack was elsewhere? I had suspected that they might be moving against humans, but the dragons have always kept them at bay.”

“You keep mentioning the dragons,” Silver asked suddenly, aware that Seijelar had perked up beside her and was watching Illian sleepily through slitted eyes. “There are other dragons here, besides these two?”

This time, Illian did not hide his surprise. “The forest is their domain, and men do not tread there lightly.” He was watching them carefully, she noticed, apparently trying to determine what kind of impact his words would have.

“The Keliarn Agreement?” Bek interjected. Illian glanced at him.

“Yes, boy.”

“What is that?” Silver asked of Illian. She knew, of course, more or less what he would say. Zien had referenced the Agreements between men and beasts more than once, and Bek had described what he knew of it to her before. Little, as it turned out. The Agreement had not been recorded anywhere, and seemed to be some set of unwritten accords lost to time.

Illian ran a hand along his jaw, regarding her for a long moment before he answered.

“As it has been handed down, the Keliarn Agreement was made between the three great powers of the world – humans, dragons, and the keliarn. At that time, the humans and mythical beasts were in constant competition over land, resulting in a series of wars with a great deal of death and bloodshed. When the bloodshed became too great, an agreement was finally reached, demanding that the dragons rule the skies and preside over the mythical beasts, and the humans protect the forests and preside over their own. Saying that there was no room in the world for a third great power, the keliarn up and vanished into the heavens that they had so ruled, and were never heard from again.”

“I see,” Silver said by way of thanks. His explanation sounded an awful lot like what Bek had told her, and likewise, what she had heard from a wayward crow. It remained sparse on details.

“Humanity has never really respected the Agreement,” Bek asserted.

“Nonsense,” Illian disagreed, “the Agreement has held good until now. It would have held for another thousand years if the dragons had not killed the queen.” Bek was obviously surprised, if Silver dared judge by the way his eyebrows rose. Silver could not suppress her sharp intake of breath, nor did she miss the keenness of the stare Seijelar fixed upon Illian.

“Your reactions make it clear you have never heard any of this,” Illian said, looking from one to the other of them. “Although the dragons declared the queen’s death to be the work of one their kin who had escaped imprisonment, the king and his council could not ignore the possibility that it was no accident. Since that moment, dark and dangerous times have fallen over Altiannia. We have sent men into the forest to invite back the humans who inhabit it, but many have come back empty-handed or not at all, and it is claimed to be the work of the beasts. As we have fed our military might, the dragons have come to fear our intentions, and more so since some of the dragon kin came to fight for the king’s cause,” the man continued.

“The dragons are fighting each other?” Bek asked sharply. Illian glanced at him, and then at the two hatchlings lounging like great, brightly colored cats on the rough bedding.

“Not yet. But the king has ordered the construction of a mighty wall, and that wall will be completed in perhaps half a year. He believes he must protect our people, and the dragons believe it is a clear declaration of war.”

“What do you believe, Illian?” Silver asked. He met her green eyes with his.

“I believe there are more truths in this world than stars in the sky. I believe that two half-dead foreigners guarded by dragons at the edge of the Issurak are incredibly suspicious.” A long silence followed this statement, broken only by Skourett’s soft huff of disapproval and Seijelar’s answering chirp. “I also believe you haven’t really told me anything,” Illian continued then. “So, I’ll try again. Why did a single Zara attack you? Random chance?”

“That…probably because I was the lament of that particular beast,” Silver answered without hesitation.

“The…” Illian paused, “that’s a bit too incredible to believe.”

“Believe it or not,” Silver said, shrugging, “it’s the truth. Even I don’t know what I did, but the Zara was very determined to kill me.” Illian appeared unimpressed.

“Yet it failed. You say you weren’t attacked in the Issurak. Where, then?”

“You would have to tell us that,” Bek stated firmly, just as Silver opened her mouth to speak, “I can tell you where we were, but it was nowhere near this land, and nowhere within your kingdom. Was there any sign of how we came here?”

Curious, Silver glanced at the dragons, wondering what Skourett had told Bek about their arrival. Seijelar understood without words what she was wondering, and smoke curled sluggishly from the hatchling’s nose slits as it answered. “We were ferried by some beast…but even dragons must sleep in the between.”

Around them, no one else noticed their silent conversation, and Illian did not appear to believe what Bek had said.

“You two are making this difficult,” the man stated, staring hard between them. “I’ll repeat my question. Where were you when the Zara attacked you?”

“The woods. Washington,” Silver said, watching Illian. The man blinked, frowning.

“I’ve never heard of such a place,” he admitted.

“Most likely, you never will again,” Bek stated flatly. Illian frowned at him before turning back to Silver.

“And you have no idea how you came here?”

She shook her head, doing her best to look confused. That, at least, was not hard. Illian seemed convinced, at least.

“Some magic of the dragons,” he suggested, apparently as much to himself as to them, though she noticed that his eyes moved to the hatchlings thoughtfully. “What relationship do you have with them?”

“Where we come from,” Silver decided to share as much as possible, “these two are the only dragons left.”

Illian made a sound of disbelief, leaning back on his seat.

“You know it’s the truth,” Bek broke the momentary silence. “You moved us in here so you could tell if we were lying.”

“You have a very good eye for magic,” Illian observed, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Well-trained,” Bek stated, averting his gaze. “And like I said, your circuits are sloppy.”

Again, Illian’s mouth twitched, but Silver had the strange sense that it was with amusement rather than anger.

“I think we will need to have another conversation about this in the near future, but I have my duties to attend to. For now, I need to you to wear these,” Illian said, reaching into his pocket and holding up two thin chokers. One was twisted with pale orange gauze and the other with pale green. At the end of each chain dangled a rounded metal plate etched with strange symbols that looked as if they might spell out a single word…or name.

“Due to your circumstances, I’ll explain. It is traditional and honorable here to wear something on your person, commonly a selor like these, that identifies your family. Most people have something that is easily detached. In certain families, professions, or for marriage, identification may be given by a more permanent tattoo, either on the neck or face. A very limited pool of trades allow markings on the arms instead. Markings on the hands are reserved for criminals. Since I’m keeping you here in secret, I want you to wear these. If for some reason you’re discovered, you’ll arouse less suspicion this way, so long as the dragons are hidden. Take it as a gesture of good faith that I have not branded your hands already.”

When Silver’s hand went to her throat, Illian made a sound of displeasure. “Leave your necklace, Silver. If I were you, I would tell no one that you possess it.”

Silver merely frowned as Bek asked coolly, “What about your selor, Illian?”

“Mine is unique,” Illian responded equally as coolly, “it will appear only under certain conditions.”

“Like what?” Silver asked, genuinely curious.

Illian seemed to understand her curiosity, and when she took the choker from him agreeably, said, “Like the presence of a very certain type of magic that serves as a key. It is a secret known only by its bearer. Like this.”

He reached up, unbuttoned the top two rows of his collar, and pulled the flaps flat around his chest. Slowly, a number of black-inked lines began to appear around his neck, forming an elaborate and intimidating ring. Just above his clavicle, it split to form two curved wings encircling another set of foreign symbols.

A name.

The markings faded too quickly for Silver to try to read them, and Illian re-did the buttons on his collar.

“These kinds of selor can be used for more than simple identification, but the removable ones are quite safe. I doubt you’ll believe me, but…” he handed the remaining choker to Bek. “Come nightfall, I will return with food. Do what you like with your day, but I would suggest you do it quietly.”

With that said, Illian returned to the other room and left them, closing the door behind him with a resounding snap. His heavy footfalls echoed a moment beyond the closed door, and then silence descended.

“He’s gone,” Silver said incredulously. A tense silence descended over the five of them as they all stared at the closed door.

“Either he is a very trusting man, or he is very sure that we couldn’t leave this house or this city even if we wanted to,” Bek said softly. His bronze eyes flitted around the plain room and she watched as he withdrew a small, leather-bound book from a large pocket on his left hip, tossing the choker onto the bed sheets. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that you could read this book?” he asked equally softly.

“What?” she asked innocently.

The truth was, Silver knew what he was talking about. There had been times, just a few, when the foreign characters in the book he was holding had made sense to her. But she had never been able to explain it. If anything, it had made her think she was just a bit crazy.

“If I had known, I might have…” he trailed off, staring at the book, “Everything about your case was unusual, but I didn’t have any reason to think it was more than lack of exposure. The lab returned your test results, Silver, after you had already left the MASO. I never told you. Ryan ranked you too low. At the time, it didn’t make any sense, but now I wonder.”

Silver stared at him, more genuinely puzzled than before. “Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bek shook his head slowly, turning his gaze to her, searching, wondering. “Alti is supposed to have been destroyed several hundred years ago. That means that this place,” he gestured to the building around them and then the thick forest out the window, “isn’t supposed to exist.”

“Wait, are you saying we’re in another country?” she half-laughed, looking around the plain walls in disbelief. “You mentioned Alti right before we went to the castle. You said it was gone.”

“I thought it was,” he said, “but it’s the only thing that makes sense now.”

“Illian could have been lying. And he said something about Altiannia, not Alti—”

“The capital city of Alti, Silver. And no, he wasn’t lying. His spell circuit works both ways,” Bek said dismissively, gesturing to the floor, which looked perfectly ordinary to her. “He could tell if we were lying. If he had lied, I would have noticed. It also would’ve introduced noise, and that would have been a risk with little reward for him.”

“Great,” Silver said, leaning back against the bed again. “So, we somehow ended up in Alti. How do we get back?” Bek shook his head, turning to fix his sharp gaze on her. She wondered momentarily what kind of question he would ask.

“Silver, you told me you only speak English.”

“Yeah,” she answered slowly, trying to figure out what point he was trying to make before he made it, “and enough Spanish to get by if I needed to talk to someone, some Japanese. Apparently, I can speak to animals, though that’s not really a language, that’s just….” She paused, considering her next statement. Her lingual abilities had her a bit stymied. As required, she had taken three years of Spanish in high school. It had not been hard, but she certainly had not been able to use magic to make herself fluent. French and German baffled her completely, since she had never studied them. And yet, she had been able to understand the people of Icthuria, despite having no clue what language they were speaking. That had happened after she had discovered her power, so she had assumed her understanding was due to magic. Suddenly, she was not so sure.

“I have a feeling my magic shouldn’t help me understand any human languages. With the beasts, it’s different. With people, it’s just so much sound.”

“You’re right,” Bek agreed, “there would be no magic that would make you fluent in other languages. Which means you don’t even realize what just happened.”

He paused. “Sooooo,” she said, urging him to continue, “what just happened?”

“Silver, Illian didn’t understand English. I tried. He speaks an ancient, dead language. Altian, kin to the Atlantian language. And you understood it perfectly. No, not only understood it. You spoke it, used it, better than I can.”

She stared at him in astonishment, twisting her fingers into the wolf’s coat and wondering if the beast would know if Bek was lying. Then she wondered if he could lie, with the circuit he had mentioned in place. Before Illian had walked into the room, she and Bek must have been speaking English. She had been a bit dazed, but…how could she not have noticed?

Silver was aware of him still staring at her as she dropped the choker on his bed and went in search of clothes in the other room. The nightstand had a single drawer just large enough to fit two outfits. She heard him come to the doorway, and his eyes bored heavily into the back of her head while she unfolded a loose, forest green shirt with three-quarter length sleeves and thin brown pants that fell only halfway down her shins. There was an over shirt as well, a lighter tan than the pants – it cinched at the waist and fell partway down her thighs, but was cut deeply on either side. It had to be Altian fashion.

There was no sign of her own clothes.

“I don’t know what it all means,” she said finally, turning to glare at him. It irked her that her voice shook slightly, and she took a deep breath to steady it before continuing. “Strange things happen around me. It’s always been that way. Always.”

“It will always be that way, too,” Bek told her. She stiffened. “Until we find out exactly what’s going on. Everything involving you seems less and less like coincidence every day. Zien knows something, or suspects it. So did the Zara.”

Through all of this, his voice remained level, calm, and only his eyes betrayed the turbulent play of his thoughts.

“Well, good thing I saved his life, then,” she said a bit bitterly. Bek raised an eyebrow, and Silver decided she was thoroughly done with the current topic of conversation.

“What were you so angry about earlier?” she asked then.

“The truth?” he asked. She believed her silence was, like his, answer enough. “I expected you to get injured when we fought the Zara, but I have no excuse. I put us both in danger. I made mistakes that nearly cost us both our lives. The first one was trusting Zien.” Silence followed this statement, a silence filled by the wolf’s rumble of displeasure. Elorian was a part of Zien’s pack. Technically, so was Silver.

“That’s silly, Bek. You told me Zara kill people. The fact that we’re both alive is something to be proud of. And I’m sorry, wolf,” she said. “I trust Zien, even if Bek doesn’t.”

Seijelar chirped sleepily from Bek’s room then, and the wolf responded softly and meaningfully, ears pricked as its gaze met the closed and locked door through which Illian had come earlier.

“I doubt there’s any way out of this place, but we’ll try our best,” Silver agreed with the beasts. “Other than that, we have to decide just how much we can tell Illian.”

“Nothing at all,” Bek said stiffly. “And being alive is a pretty darn low bar, thanks.”

Silver shrugged. The wolf’s silvery ears had dropped to a more thoughtful cant, and the cool leather of its nose was quivering furiously. Typical to its nature, however, the beast revealed nothing more of its thoughts, and the tiny hatchling dragon hissed when Silver called its name to ask what it thought of their captor.

“We can’t trust what Illian tells us,” she reminded herself, as if she needed to be reminded. “We can’t trust him, and yet for now, it seems we have no choice.”