I grew up in the forest, with only an old man and the creatures for company. He taught me everything -- speaking, writing, dancing, fighting, magic, politics, math, any subject he felt I would need upon leaving the forest. I learned every language used on Aldaein, every fighting style to ever exist, and every magic spell he could find, but I also learned things he referred to as ‘common’: how to judge weather patterns, how to communicate with plants and animals, where the best places to find food are, etc. In short, he taught me how to survive. However, because it was just us, he never gave me a name and he never told me his. When I asked, he said I could give him a title, so I simply called him Grandfather.

Three months ago, on my eighth birthday, he died. I realized quickly that I shouldn’t stay in the forest. Being alone, even with the local fauna as company, would be enough to drive everyone crazy. He had once told me of a magic school to the east, where all the races learned magic and the arts and dragons found their riders. He never did tell me exactly what my race was, but he did once mention a racial affinity to nature ‘unique to my race.’ I had never pressed him on it, though, because it didn’t seem all that important.

I began to prepare. In the process, I found a letter tucked into one of his drawers. “In the event of my death,” the envelope read, “please deliver to Master Damarian Lee of the Golden Arcs School for Magic.” I tucked it into my bag. At least I had somewhere to go. I gathered no food or water (I could find those myself) and I didn’t dare touch his spell components (he had permanent magical locks on those); instead, I packed only my clothes. Then I started walking east.

A week ago, I stood at the edge of the forest that forms part of the school’s land. My companions, both feline and canine in nature, stood beside me. I skulked up behind a man who appeared to be the Headmaster and waited. When he sensed my presence, he stood straight with a start and turned to find me holding out the letter. He took it from me without a word and led me back to a building labeled “Administration.” I haven’t seen him since.

Now I stand at his office doors. For the past week, I have been dodging the questions of every teacher on campus. I would fully admit that I don’t trust them, except that it’s been three months since I’ve spoken to anyone and I refuse to open my mouth now just because some random people decided I should. Because of my training, I’m the observant type naturally and nothing I’ve seen proves to me they’re trustworthy. Today, I’ve been asked to come and speak - no, “communicate somehow” - with the Headmaster.

I slip through his office doors with barely a creak and stand in the corner farthest away from him. He beckons me, but I don’t move, and he sighs. “Girl, he left something for you. But first, do you have a name?”

I refrain from giving him even the slightest indication one way or the other, simply watching him with a cautious, nay, suspicious eye. The old man may have trusted this Master Damarian Lee, but I simply don’t.

Thirty minutes later, he groans and looks at the clock. I haven’t moved, but it seems he has another appointment coming. “You should go,” he says. “The next visitor is a man whose son is a particularly rare type of dragon. He is very protective.” I still don’t move. “Okay, well if you want to watch, follow me to the next room over. It’s larger so you and he both won’t feel as crowded.”

And I do. His comments have piqued my curiosity. Why would a full-grown dragon be afraid of small spaces? They stop randomly shifting when they finish puberty, after all. I follow him out and down the hall to the next door. The room we step into is extremely large and appears to be set up for a school dance with blue and gold decorations, several tables set up for small groups, long tables for refreshments, and some long, low couches for resting all spread out around the room. There is a lamp on each table glowing a faint golden color and the overhead lights are off to create a somewhat romantic atmosphere and the entire administration is present though seated. He walks over to one of the small tables and gestures for me to take a seat. I shake my head and make my way to the right-hand end of a long couch where I can see the whole room.

We don’t have to wait long before his visitor enters. I lift an eyebrow slightly - the man before me doesn’t look the type to be claustrophobic. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with black hair and dark eyes, much like the Headmaster, but where Master Damarian appears exhausted, this man looks kind and friendly (if a bit scared at the moment).

Behind him are three boys, two girls and a woman who could only be his wife. She has beautiful honey-coloured hair and sparkling blue eyes. One of the daughters, the youngest by appearance, appears to be identical to her, one of the boys mimics his father, another has his mother’s hair and his father’s eyes, and the other girl has hair the color of maple syrup and pretty blue eyes, but it’s the last child, standing kind of separate, who catches my attention. He has black hair and sparkling blue eyes in a perfect blending of his parents, with his mouth turned up slightly as his brothers shove each other around. His eyes are scanning the room when the latch onto me. His face lights up, but then he glances around and realizes he’s yet to greet the Headmaster. The entire family is almost seated when the two boys start fighting. The mother groans and takes them outside, leaving only the blue-eyed boy sitting with his father.

I sat pretty far away from them, but the room is suddenly so silent that I hear every word perfectly. “I can’t control his magic anymore,” the father says. “What he really needs is a friend with magic strong enough to counter his, but most people are scared of him. I’m worried that when he enters school in six years, he’ll be alone and still be too volatile for proper training.” Immediately every teacher in the rooms starts talking.

The boy groans, climbs out of his chair, and begins circling the room, though one of the teachers continues to watch him closely. He stops by the long table and grabs a couple of water bottles. His eyes set on me again and he grins, jogging over. As he comes over, I pull back, and he pauses with a confused expression before redirecting himself to the other end of the long couch.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I’m watching him carefully now. Most of the other people avoided me after they discovered that I don’t like being touched and I don’t trust them. The rest went to the other extreme and tried to act like I was perfectly normal, touching me too much even for regular people. He’s different, though, and he seems like he’s trying to find that perfect balance that only my Grandfather has ever found.

As he sits down, he’s watching me just as closely. “Hey,” he calls softly. “You seem like you need a drink. Do you want my extra water bottle?” He holds up the unopened bottle he took from the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the teacher watching us nudge her neighbor. I give the boy a slight nod, wondering what he’ll do next. He tries to hold it out to me, but I flinch, and he pulls his hand back, frowning a little. Then his face lights up. He sets the water bottle down on its side and rolls it to me down the couch. My eye widens a bit and I almost smile. Opening it is a challenge. Which direction is it supposed to turn? I hear a quiet chuckle and look toward him to find him demonstrating on his own bottle. I imitate his motions and the lid comes off easily.

I offer him a slight smile and he grins in return. “My name’s Alekai,” he says. “What’s yours?” I open my mouth as if to speak before closing it again. He seems to nod. “Oh, wait,” he says, scrambling through his bag. “Here! You can write it out.” He hands me a notepad and pencil.

My eye widens again as I take them from him. What he isn’t realizing is that I don’t have a name and that’s exactly what I write. “Whoa! That’s kinda strange, but also really cool. What would you choose to be called? I mean, if you don’t have a name, couldn’t you just pick your own?” I stare at him. Why didn’t that occur to me?

I consider carefully and remember the name of my Grandfather’s wife. I never met her, but she was the only person from outside the forest that he ever told me the name of. I hand him the notepad with two words written on it. “Evangeliqua Greenstone”. I hope Grandfather wouldn’t mind. Alekai smiles. “That’s a really pretty name! But it’s really long. Can I call you Eva?” I turn a light pink color and nod. Then I write, “Only if I can call you Lex.” He laughs.

We sit quietly until he says brightly, “My favorite color is green. What about you?” I look around and point to a woman in a purple dress. He looks confused until I tug at my shirt. “Oh, purple,” he realizes. “I’m sure that looks great with your red hair. Hmmm…” He trails off.

And this is how we spend the next hour. He’ll tell me something about himself, ask me the corresponding question, and I’ll come up with some way to respond. It gets easier when he tells me he knows sign language, but I think I’m amusing him with all the different methods of communication I’m coming up with - sign language, charades, writing, pointing, gesturing wildly, and others - since he seems to constantly be on the verge of laughing. Throughout the interaction, I notice the teachers watching us; they seem confused over something.

Eventually, though, the Alekai’s father and the Headmaster finish their conversation. I watch out of the corner of my eye as they stand, shake hands, and turn as if to walk toward us, but the first teacher who was watching us steps in their way. They start to frown, but their expressions turn to shock when they see us sitting calmly. I hear the Headmaster murmur, “She never lets anyone get that close,” and a moment later, “and she’s never responded to anything we’ve said. I wonder what’s different?”

“I don’t know,” I hear Alekai’s father respond, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him that excited, either. Those two are good for each other.”

Alekai stops talking suddenly. I look over at him to find him staring at me. “Sorry, I guess I talk too much,” he says. “I seem to have lost you. Where’d you go?” I lift the notepad. “Sorry. Lost in my own head, I guess. What were you saying? I got distracted.” He smiles. “Oh, it’s okay. I space out sometimes too, especially when the room gets really quiet like this.” He pauses. “Do you really not answer anyone?”

I see all of the adults flinch when it registers that we heard every word they said. Apparently they had thought they were being discreet. We share a conspiratorial glance and I write, “How pale do you think they can get?” He takes the notepad and the cover of reading my note to whisper, “That depends on how much you heard them say. They’ll freak out if they think we heard everything.” I smirk slightly and write, “What if we did hear everything, pretended we didn’t, and just said enough to send them into a panic wondering how much we knew?” His eyes widen, and he whispers, “I like the way you think, Eva.”

Then he says louder, “I’m surprised you’re willing to listen to me, then. I’ve been told that I’m extremely boring.” He laughs. “But then, most people are too scared of me to let me come near them in the first place.”

I lift an eyebrow. “I honestly can’t picture you as scary. You’re too kind for that.” He looks startled. “I-I’m not sure I’ve ever been called that before. I have too much magic and I can’t control it, so people are scared.” His father is about as white as a ghost and the Headmaster isn’t looking much better off. “Read this out loud. ‘I’m too silent and I don’t much like being touched, so people avoid me. They think I’m strange because I didn’t grow up in a civilization like the rest of them.’” He lifts an eyebrow but reads it anyway. We see the entire room turn as pale as a sheet and he hides a grin behind my notepad. “Wow. Is that why you didn’t have a name?” I nod.

Finally his father intervenes. “Sorry to interrupt, Alekai, but your mother’s waiting for us. You can come back another day if you want, but we have to go for now.”

Alekai turns to me. “Sorry, Eva. Can we talk like this again soon? Oh, I should give you a way to contact me…” He trails off. Borrowing my notepad, he quickly scribbles his phone number, email, and home address. “I’ll explain how to use the phone and email next time. Bye, Eva!” I hold up a paper. “Bye, Lex!” He laughs and follows his dad out of the room.