Having never been on a date before, Dion thought it went well. He had nothing to base this experience on, but it felt right. Liz ordered beef and pea pods over rice, Dion had sweet and sour chicken. Fried chicken doused in tangy and sweet sauce, it was the best non-dessert food he ever ate. The meal came with extremely bland cookies, but they had little messages inside. Liz’s said ‘Seize the morning light every day to find the day.’ It made Liz laugh, but Dion did not get it. His said ‘Lifelong happiness will be yours with someone close.’ That one made Liz blush a little bit when he read it. Then they talked until the restaurant closed. He only spilled one sauce packet and it did not get on either of them.

Liz felt the same, as they had another date next week. And the week after that. Before long, it was a regular thing. Dion spent more and more time with her. They sat next to each other in every class they shared, which were all but one. Even though she was a year older than him, she was a first year student too. She took a year off to work and earn money before starting school. Their majors were similar. His was chemistry, hers was dietetics. They both needed the same core science courses. Sitting in those massive lecture halls was not so scary when Liz was next to him.

By their second year, they were ‘going steady’ to borrow a term not used much in modern times. It fit them well, just the same. Liz’s Catholic upbringing made her old fashioned, as did Dion’s background coming from an insular family in a small town. Showed each other affection in little ways. Holding hands during movies, a goodbye hug and kiss. Nothing more than that, as they were not married.

Their personalities meshed so well that it allowed Dion to forget, even briefly, how different they were. Forget that he was to be hated and feared. His anxiety may as well not have existed with her at his side. She made him feel better somehow. It might have to do with her disarming personality. At the same time, she made him want to be better through self-improvement. And she always seemed happy around him. This was especially true when she talked about the crazy nature of the world. Dion could not always follow it, not paying much attention to the state of things. When he did, he rarely disagreed with her assessments. When he stopped to think about it, he considered maybe this was what being normal felt like.

There was so much else to focus on he never had an overabundance of time to wallow in introspective guilt. He was a smart guy, but not so smart to avoid the need to study. It was easier to study with Liz once they were officially dating. Less awkward attempts at small talk, more enjoying each other’s presence in a shared activity. Through their combined effort, both got straight A’s their first year. This pleased them both, as it was the first time it ever happened to them. Although it did not quite count since Dion was homeschooled.

They both stayed in town during the summer, working their separate jobs for extra money. Dion worked for the local public library and Liz as a dietary aid for a nearby nursing home. He enjoyed being around all the old books, which the library still had despite the proliferation of computers. A bonus was Liz visiting him nearly every day. The only days she did not visit him were the weekends, when she was in the next town visiting her family. He missed her terribly those days. She kept inviting him along to meet her parents and her five younger sisters, but he always declined. The loneliness was not enough to override his trepidation at meeting her family. He pictured her big, Catholic dad as a very scary man. Towering in stature with thick wrists and the ability to spot a man not good enough for his daughter. If anyone would spot his troubled bloodline, it would be him. He just knew it. For her part, Liz understood. She picked up that Dion was skittish around people.

The second year came and with it, college normalcy. They were happy to be back in their routine and studying together. No relationship was without its challenges. They had fewer classes together their second year. Dion never felt right sitting in a lecture hall without her. Too many people, so he sat in the back as close to the exit as possible. Further compounding this, Liz moved to an apartment off campus. She had enough of dorm life and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Apparently, her roommate liked to party every weekend. Several times through the week too. Coming home to her roommate getting frisky with a random guy on her bed once was bad enough. This seemed to happen once a month at minimum. Dion could sympathize. Even though he had no roommate, he often heard the raucous sounds of revelry echoing through the halls. No one in the dorm even knew his name and he wanted to keep it that way. Just a ghost that lived in the single room near the stairwell.

Not seeing her as often as he did during the summer was a lot harder on Dion than he ever anticipated. No idea why. He talked to her on the phone every day. They still saw each other during classes. Yet, her absence was keenly felt at the end of the day when he did not see her. Why? He never felt this way about anyone. He missed his parents, but rarely even thought of them. Did not really miss his brothers. Did not miss anyone else in his community. When he was around her, he felt like part of him that had been missing since birth was with him again. He was so used to not having it he did not notice until it was there. Somehow, it felt like Liz felt the same. He felt that way because she told him, point blank, “Dion, I feel like you complete me.” The feeling it gave him was not one he could put into words and he read a lot of books.

Which was also why being around her was so hard at times. Lurking in the back of his mind was the eternal specter of doubt. It was always there, even if he was not always aware of it. It came through on occasion, reminding him that the face he showed her was a lie. She did not know the reality of who he was. His complicated past. His bloodline. His guilt for all the atrocities his people committed over a thousand years ago and for centuries before that. She could not see the magic flowing through his veins or the potential for grave evil that lurked in the heart of everyone who shared his lineage.

At first, the voice was soft. Very quiet, easy to ignore. It was more like a little fly buzzing around in the periphery. Barely registered with him at all; it only showed itself when Liz talked about her family. As they continued spending time together, it got louder. Within the last week, it was a constant drumbeat marching around his head.

‘This is a lie. It’s all a lie. You’re evil. You can’t keep lying to her. She’s too good for a wicked skunk like you. Stop lying. You can’t fool her anymore. She’ll find out. She doesn’t love you. She loves the fake you.’

Over and over, these thoughts ran through his head. The previous time they had dinner together, the sentences flowed together in an endless drone. He could barely concentrate for the noise. When he went to bed, he spent the entire night boring holes in the ceiling with his eyes. Sleep never came.

Sleepless nights and discomfort whenever he was around her. Was this what he had to look forward to? It could not continue. Whether his body or mind would give out first was an irrelevant question. Something had to give. What could he do?

Run? He could do that. Vanish out of her life without a trace. This would spare her the pain of knowing she was deceived by one of history’s greatest monsters. Keep her from the revelation that she was this close to evil. She was so good and pure that she deserved better than to be corrupted by someone like him. Once he moved, he would never get close to anyone again.

It would be painful. Excruciatingly, in fact. Dion was not entirely sure what love was, but he knew that whatever it was, it was how he felt about Liz. Loving someone sometimes meant pain, he read in many places. A tragic story, but life was full of those. The thought of never seeing her again made him feel a little like he was about to tear out his heart and fill the cavity with dry ice. Surely, he could ignore that sensation if he started doing nothing but reading textbooks from morning to night. Let his studies simply devour him.

Moving would be a lot of work, of course. She knew where he lived. He could not just change dormitories. He had to change schools. Maybe even states. Transfer to a university several states over. He already moved once; how hard could it be to pack everything into his hatchback and drive away? People transferred schools all the time. The experts running the various college records offices probably made the process as painless as possible.

A lot of work, yes, but what alternative did he have? The only other one he could think of would be to tell her what he is. That process did not make him feel like he was about to be hollowed out. Instead, it was all fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of anger. Fear of her screaming at him or hating him. Even worse, fear of making her cry. Making her afraid of him. Could he even handle a reaction like that? Could she?

He never had to make a decision like this. The only people he felt attachment to were people in his family and they were the same as him. Paralyzed by indecision, but he had to make one. He spent several days shut up in his room. He had to think about this, think carefully. Phone off, blinds shut, he did not go to class or leave his room to do anything but get food and go to the bathroom. It had been about eight months since he went a day without hearing from Liz, but it had to be done. Someone knocked on his door off and on while he was shut in. Never checked to see who was there. He stayed wrapped up in his own thoughts until he could sort this out.

Dion came to his decision on a Friday. Seemed like the most logical day to reach a consensus and to talk to Liz. Not over the phone. Absolutely not. The gravity of this could only be discussed in person. He called Liz after they would have had their last class together for the week. She led with where he had been the last four days. He said he would tell her in person and refused to elaborate further. It did not occur to Dion that this was not the best way to approach her about a serious matter. ‘We need to talk about something’ usually precedes bad news and worse actions. She reluctantly agreed to let him come over. His heart drummed with nervous energy the entire drive.

He was not sure why he came to the conclusion he did. Thinking about it rationally, it defied rationality. It might have been he was tired of thinking about it. Both ideas tumbled over in his head with neither overcoming the other. A maelstrom of thoughts with no way to know which was the right course of action. Unable to sort through them, Dion might have stayed in his room until he was kicked out of school. As he was torturing himself Friday morning, one thought finally broke through. A still, soft voice, perhaps? It told him, quite simply, that she had a right to know. He owed it to her to tell her what she dated for the past year. It won out over all the noise. It might have been what Dion wanted to hear. Might have been the most ill-conceived idea ever considered. In that moment, it made more sense than the rest of the cacophony between Dion’s ears.

He pulled into the parking lot of Embassy Village, her apartment complex. He picked a random spot to park in, mind too occupied with speaking to her to worry about the prospect of getting his car towed. She lived on the fourth floor. He took the elevator. He might have passed some other people going there. Might not have. He was not paying attention. Too busy running through all the different ways this revelation could play out, most of them terrible. Easy to get distracted when your head is full of nightmare scenarios that involve screaming, violence, and tears.

He stood before door D5. Too scared to knock, but too determined to turn tail and run. Frozen in indecision, he might have stood there for an hour before moving. The door opened before that.

Liz must have been waiting for him to arrive and checking the door’s peephole frequently. She had Friday nights off, so she was still dressed in her usual clothes. Just a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. Tonight’s shirt was a navy blue one. It had a white silhouette of a running, vaguely cartoonish rabbit and the words “Mills Civic Fun Run for Juvenile Diabetes” written over it.

He expected her to be livid at him for ignoring so many messages. There were over fifty of them when he turned his phone back on. Yelling, accusing, maybe even crying. Rather than any of that, she pulled the surprised skunk into an unexpected hug.

“Dion… I was so worried about you.” She pulled him close. He felt her warmth, then tension in her muscles. Stress from going so long wondering what became of him. “I thought you were sick… or injured. I was this close to getting campus police.”

Dion froze up, eyes wide. His logical brain did not take this into account. Her missing him this much was…. surprising? No, welcome…… and guilty. He made her think he was dead. Now he was going to break her heart.

He put his arms around her and hugged her back. Enjoy it for now; it might be the last time. Take in the feeling of her warmth against him. She smelled faintly of fur shampoo scented like chamomile with a mix of other mild botanicals. Very natural and pleasant; it complimented her well.

He said nothing. What could he say? She said nothing either. How long were they hugging in the hallway? A minute? They did not keep track. Eventually, she let him go. Dion still had nothing to say. Now came the awkward looks at each other.

“So….” Liz finally broke the silence. “….you…. wanted to talk.”

Dion nodded.

“Probably not in the hallway, right?”

Dion shook his head.

“…. come in then. Just mind the mess. I haven’t had a chance to do my chores yet.” She stepped back and held the door for Dion.

He hesitated. Last chance to run. He may very well have sprinted off into the night. The inner voice returned, coaxing him to do this. She needed to hear it from him. Go to her. He steadied himself and entered her apartment.

It was not dirty at all. Not to Dion’s eyes. The living room the door opened into was furnished with a large couch holding multiple pillows and the plush skunk he got her for Christmas. An oak entertainment center in the corner held a television hooked up to a DVD/VCR that might have been over a decade old. Both tapes and disks were well represented on the shelves beneath. She had a bookshelf full of various tomes and a lot of empty space. Only being a few weeks over 20 years old, she had insufficient time to collect a comprehensive home library. The award for the most out-of-place furniture item went to the red, green, and black plaid recliner in the corner. It looked comfortable and older than the two of them combined. Either a thrift shop find or something her family gave her when she moved.

Dion removed his shoes and set them on the mat next to hers. She did not offer him anything. He was here to talk and they both knew it. She guided him to the couch and carefully took some of the throw pillows off it. Those went on the floor. The plush skunk she placed on top of some text books on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She sat next to him. Close, but not so close their legs were touching.

Her shoulders were tensed. Her mouth straight and lips thin. Not angry. Nothing about her was angry. Eyes were too soft and ears folded back. Not upset, but concerned. The only thing on her mind was what happened to her man and where he had been the last few days.

They sat looking at each other. Dion could not maintain eye contact. His eyes kept darting around the room. Nervously fidgeting his fingers in his lap, he did not know how to start. Rehearsing it in his head was a lot different than sitting here facing her. Simply could not form the words.

“Okay….” Liz finally broke the silence. “You’re here to talk. Tell me what happened? Are you in trouble?”

“No.” Dion replied, then thought better of it. “….. maybe. I… I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’m not upset.” Liz reached forward and put her paw over Dion’s. “But I am worried. I haven’t heard from you for five days. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

Dion made no move to pull his hand away. Her touch felt wonderful. Soft and caring. Savor it now because you might never feel it again. He looked into her eyes. Nothing but care. Remember that look too. Why did this have to be so hard? It would be easier if she was a more modern girl. Dion may not pay too much attention to media, but the stories of women breaking off with their man for the simplest of reasons were easy to hear. Maybe part of why he waited was the hope that she would be incensed with his behavior and call it off. No, she loved him too much and cared too deeply.

“Yeah….” Dion slowly pulled his hand away. A slight frown momentarily creased her muzzle, but she said nothing. “This… I don’t even know how to tell you this. I can’t keep hiding it, though. I love you too much to do that to you. You have a right to know. To know what I am.”

He was stalling. Trying to push it off just a few more minutes. Use extra words to see if, somehow, it would get easier. All it generated was impatience on the part of the rabbit.

“Whatever it is, tell me.” Her tone felt colder. Suspicious. “Is it…. something bad?”

“Worse than anything you could imagine.”

When Dion said that, Liz winced. It occurred to Dion she might suspect him of infidelity. He hoped not. How could anyone be unfaithful to someone as wonderful as her?

Tell her, Diomedes. You are hurting her more by trying to play coy.

“I’m……” Would she even know what an Izorian is? Start simple. “I’m a mage…. a wizard. Magic user, whatever you want to call it.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Now it was out there. Just had to wait for her reaction.

At first, Elizabeth just stared at him. A blank look, processing and unable to make sense of what he said. She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. Her lips moved to say something, then pursed and paused. Head turned away to look at another part of the room, then back to him. Left ear flicked a couple of times.

“Dion…..” She shook her head. “That’s not funny. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s true.”

“You’re not crazy and I’m not stupid. Tell me what’s really going on or go home. I didn’t wait five days for this.” Now she was angry.

Dion knew that tone, but never heard it from her. It was pretty hard to believe. Magic did not exist, after all. Something relegated to tall tales from history and imitated by anthros in black tuxedos pulling feral pigeons out of their sleeves. Now, if someone said they were a wizard, it was a sign their doctor needed to up their medication. He had to show her, no matter how badly he did not want to.

Dion slid to the other side of the couch to put some distance between the two of them. He raised his paws and got another confused look from Liz for his trouble.

“Don’t get too close, please….” He asked. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. No big spells. Just a flashy cantrip to get her attention and lend credibility.

How many years had it been since he cast a spell? Zero. He may not have been proud of his magic, but he did have to cast something from time to time. He felt sick if he did not. Izorians needed to let out some of that magical energy every so often or it built up. Normally, he locked himself in his room and waited until the dorm was as empty as possible to practice. Little spells, small bolts of energy. He was a decent shot with them. Sometimes, he transmuted a glass of water with sugar to a glass of Stan’s Cola. This happened maybe once per month

He already knew what spell to cast. Familiar sensations swirled in his core. Will the magic to flow into your arms, then your hands. Feel it course through your body and reshape it. It was something of a guilty pleasure. The rush from casting a spell never got old; an aspect of Dion’s nature he never wanted to like. Plus, it made his irises glow even through his contacts. He noticed it as he deliberately delayed in releasing the charge; Liz’s eyes went wide and she slid to the other side of the couch.

Nothing harmful, nothing dangerous. No fire and no lightning. Do not manipulate anything in Liz’s home. Incredibly rude, that. The simplest thing would be to create a snowball. Three of them, forming a snowman. The whimsy might help? He hoped so.

The air between Dion’s outstretched paws swirled and condensed. A small orb of frost formed, growing larger by the millisecond. Steam sublimated from the sudden manifestation of cold in a warm room. Physics-defying, but that was what magic was for. He let it grow to the size of a tennis ball, then took it in his right paw. With his left, he formed a slightly smaller one to stack on top of that, then one the size of a golf ball to form the head. Spell complete, the glow in his eyes faded. He held it out to Liz for inspection.

It was a good idea, to him. He was not sure what to expect from her. What she would do, how she would feel. It took considerable effort to keep his outstretched paw from shaking so much that he dropped the miniature snowman. Cold snow covering his paw did not help. Was she going to scream? Cry for help? Call the police? Slap him? He did not know. No way to prepare; just brace for it, wait for it, hope for the best. If he still prayed, he would have done that.

For her part, Liz did not scream. Not recoiling in horror or hiding behind the couch or anything of the sort. Her ears perked forward and she leaned in. Eyes were locked on the tiny snowman, as if she expected it to vanish when she blinked.

Finally, she looked up at Dion. “Is… is it real?”

Dion nodded. She reached a paw towards it, but stopped a few inches away and pulled it back as if it would burn her.

“Can I touch it?”

Dion nodded again. With slow, halting motion, she put her fingertips against the snowman. The frosty exterior melted slightly from the warmth of her touch. A small trickle of water traced down the middle and lower portions of the snowman before refreezing near Dion’s paw.

“Careful. I, um, don’t want to get water on your couch.” Dion cautioned.

“….thank you?” Liz flicked her left ear. “Isn’t it already melting in your paw?”

Dion shook his head. “No. I can keep the air above my paw cold enough to keep it from melting.” A little maintenance spell like that did not require too much energy. A bit like the glowing time display on a microwave.

She put a finger on it again, just to make sure. Dion could only imagine what was going on in her head.

“Wow….” She finally said. “That’s….cool. But, how did you do it?”

“I told you, I’m a mage.” Dion felt his fingers go numb. “…. May I throw this in your sink, please? It’s very cold.”

“Oh, of course, sure!” She quickly got up. “Sorry, I mean, it must be cold. Your bare paw and everything. Come on.” She ushered Dion towards the kitchen sink. Her concern overrode any of the strangeness brought on by a conjured snowman.

After he disposed of it, they went back to the couch. They took their positions at opposite ends. It went better than Dion expected. She did not throw him out and did not act like he was the essence of darkness come to invade her space. Now what? More awkward staring. Dion needed prompting to start a conversation at the best of times.

“You weren’t lying. Or crazy.” Liz had to break the silence. “Magic shouldn’t exist…. how’d you do that?” She held up a paw. “And don’t say ‘I’m a wizard’ again. I’m going to need more than that. Specifics…..” She turned her head. “Where’d you learn to do that? It’s not a ….. demon thing, is it?”

Vigorous head shaking from Dion. He may have been of a wretched bloodline, but not that wretched. Do not muddy the waters with that stuff. Dion did not even believe demons were real.

“No, no, of course not…. it’s as natural as venom in a cobra.” Dion was fond of that analogy. Seemed to fit, considering what he was. “Magic is in my blood. I could use it since I was a little kid. Everyone in my family can.”

“So, it’s genetic?” Liz scooted a little closer. “That’s….well, amazing. Real magic….what all can you do with it? Just make snowmen, or….”

This reaction was unexpected. He was anticipating ‘scared’ and ‘angry’, but not ‘curious’. Maybe she was angry, but hiding it? Say something. Ignoring her question was unlikely to make her less angry, if she was at all.

“Some stuff…. mostly throwing light around. I…try not to play with anything more dangerous. Once, I was playing with fire magic and melted most of my Playgood blocks.” Never again. “I can’t explain it very well…. are you mad at me?”

“No…. well, maybe a little that you didn’t tell me sooner.” Liz slid a little closer. “But, I get it. Isn’t something you can just run around telling people about. Or showing off. That’s supervillain sort of stuff.”

Dion winced at the supervillain allusion. He knew it was not intentional, but it still made the skin on his face feel tight.

“You’re not wrong…. we are supervillains. Every one of us. It’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Liz reached out to put a paw on Dion’s.

“It’s even worse….” He wanted to find comfort in her touch, but he pulled away. No, she will not want to touch him after this.

He reached a paw into his pocket to produce the case for his contact lenses. He knew he would have to remove his lenses at some point, although he anticipated having to do so earlier. Gentle pressure removed the brown lenses, exposing his eyes. The purple irises gently swirled with the energy in his body, depending on the lighting, even at rest. Barely perceptible unless one was looking.

Liz was looking; quite closely, in fact. She put a paw to her muzzle. Her inner ears darkened slightly with blush. Rabbits were not great at hiding it.

“Dion…. your eyes are beautiful….” She stated.

Another wince from the skunk. It made the next part even harder. “No, they’re shameful. Vanity from my people enchanted into all of us centuries ago.” Now came the startling revelation. The one that would make him appear a monster forever. “I’m an Izorian, Liz. And I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to see me again.” He leaned back and waited for the reality to sink in. For her to start screaming and cursing at him. To damn him to Hell or whatever Catholics did when faced with pure, unadulterated evil.

Silence for several seconds. The calm before the storm. The calm while considering just how to properly express her distaste for the skunk sitting before her. She took her paw from her muzzle and gave him a look similar to puzzlement.

“What’s an Izorian?” Still curious. Not angry, but clueless.

She had no idea? How was that possible? The tales of their misdeeds were so great, how could she not? Everyone in St. Ambrose knew their history. Any civilization that served as that much of a cautionary tale could not be forgotten. But then, St. Ambrose was not the rest of the world. Dion had not heard anyone talking about the Izorians since he left, and he eavesdropped often.

“Uh…. seriously? You don’t know? Did they give you any classes on ancient civilization in school?” That question sounded insensitive, possibly even mean. Dion did not intend for it to be. He was not processing properly in the moment.

“Izorians…..” Liz looked past Dion, scrounging through her memory to try and find any reference to that word. “Wait…. I think I remember that word from a book of fairy tales. Something about magical skunks stealing away all the children in some little village.”

Dion winced. “Uh…. well, that’s close, I guess.” A fairy tale? That was what Izorian history was reduced to? Maybe it was for the best.

Liz tilted her head, frowning. “Dion…. don’t tell me you think you’re a fairy tale monster? I mean, it can’t be that bad.”

“It is…..”

“I doubt it.” She reached a paw for Dion’s again. This time, he did not take it away. “But, I have to know. What are you really? I want to know what I’m dealing with, so tell me.”

Dion looked into her eyes. She met his gaze. He felt her staring into the swirling, violet pools, wishing he kept his contacts in. Too distracting, but too late now.

Where to even begin? Probably at the beginning. Nothing too much, just the stuff she needed to know. The comprehensive lessons on their crimes his mother went over during history could wait for another time, if she decided to stick around.

“Well…. we’re a group of magically attuned skunks that’ve been around for thousands of years.” Dion searched for the right words. He never had to define what he was to anyone before, so it was hard to know what details were important. “All of us are skunks, although not all skunks are of our bloodline. I’m positive I’m the first one you’ve ever met.”

Liz flicked an ear. “All skunks? What?”

Dion nodded, knowing that sounded weird. “Indeed. Both my brothers, both my parents, both their parents, all their siblings, on and on and on.”

“That’s…. not possible.” Liz was right to be confused. Her mother was a tiger and her father a capybara. If one of Liz’s parents was a rabbit, that would have been unusual. An entire family line of skunks was the equivalent of walking from one side of the country to the other during a monsoon and not have a single drop of water land on you.

“Enchantments put into our genes make it so we only produce skunks. Powerful ones going back hundreds and hundreds of years. We’re born with them.” Well, enchantments and the fact that Izorians could only have children with other Izorians. Dion kept that to himself for the moment. No need to get too deep into that and the inbreeding implications that went with it. The royal families were especially guilty, according to their history.

“Why would they do that?” Liz tilted her head, finding the prospect more than a little strange.

“It was….” Now came the more painful parts. Dion felt like running. Just stop here, hand wave, do whatever it took to get past this. No, too late now. Tell her. “…pride, mostly… being the superior race.” Dion held up his paws. “Which I do not believe. No one in my family believes, nor does anyone in the other families where I’m from.”

Liz was silent for several seconds. She shook her head. “I can see why you didn’t want to share that. Sounds pretty rough.”

“It is.” Dion sighed. “Knowing you come from a culture steeped in that nonsense. Even our language is enchanted so that no one but Izorians can understand it.”

“…enchanted language?” Liz raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah… you wouldn’t be able to make sense of the symbols if written or sounds if spoken.”

“Sounds kind of interesting, actually. Could you teach it to me?” Liz was showing interest, so that was good. The idea of a language based on magic was kind of neat, he would admit.

“Uh…. no. I didn’t even learn it myself. We’re just born knowing it.”

Liz rubbed her forehead. “That doesn’t sound possible either.” She chuckled. “Like that matters today. Can you say something in your language?”

“I… don’t really like speaking it. Not around normal people.” Dion’s eyes widened as he caught himself. “Um, that’s not what I meant.” Cut off that thought. She might misconstrue it as trying to sound superior. She did not look angry, at least. “I mean… it might sound a little weird.”

“Oh…. well, if it makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay. I was only curious. It’s not every day you meet a wizard.”

Was that a compliment? Possibly a good thing. “Uh, all right…. let’s see.” Try to think of something, Dion. Something normal. No incantations, just words. You spoke this at home all the time.

He shifted his voice, filling his vocal cords with magical energy to produce Izorian speech. An effortless process, unlike using magic to instantly learn and speak other languages. This was in his blood and was actually a little easier to speak than English. He moved his muzzle and spoke the words of his people. Something epic to commemorate the occasion of Liz being the first non Izorian to ever hear him speak in his native tongue.

“You are listening to me talk.” He would later kick himself for not coming up with something more profound.

Liz’s ears perked, then folded back. “…. were those words?” Dion nodded. “I can’t…..” She paused, as if trying to describe a dream four hours after she woke up. “…. well, it sounded like. Sounded like….” Despite being folded back, her left ear flicked. “It was nice, but I can’t really remember any of it.”

Dion nodded. “That’s…. probably normal.” He really had no idea how Izorian sounded to normal anthros.

“Why would anyone want to make their language so no one else can understand it?”

Another long sigh. She was not horrified so far, but Dion’s heart raced. The next realization may still scare her off for good.

“Izorian society was very rigid, but not in a traditional sense. Families were groups of artisans or artists or soldiers or merchants. Every family was nobility, in their way, though some had more power than others.”

Dion paused to make sure Liz was still with him. She wore no discernable expression. Listening mode; he saw the same look when she was paying attention in class. That meant he had to continue.

“….but there were no Izorian laborers. No farmers, no housekeepers or janitors. That physical labor was beneath them.”

Liz flicked an ear. “Then how’d they get anything done? A civilization of artists and….potion making wizard guys wouldn’t last long.”

“Slaves. Entirely slaves.” Dion could not sugar coat this.

“Oh.” Liz should have been enraged. Instead, it looked like it hit her with all the force of a marshmallow. “Yeah, a lot of ancient people used slavery to build stuff. It was a savage time. That makes the Izorians like everyone else.”

Dion shook his head. “This is different. The entire civilization was built on the backs of slaves. Our armies existed to do nothing but raid all the communities surrounding us. What army could hope to fend off a group of battle-hardened wizards? They conquered the entire continent.”

“So they….” Liz started.

“Having us for masters was terrible.” Dion cut her off. “If the laborers lasted more than a couple of years, it was unusual. People were just tools to us. Tools made out of meat that broke easily.”

“I… see.”

“Our cruelty is the stuff of legend. And that’s why our language is enchanted.” Dion hung his head. He felt the energy leave his body at the admission. At what he is. “The first emperor created it to protect Izorian secrets. Important when you’re at constant war with everyone around you. But, it morphed into another way to put ourselves above the ‘slave races’, as they called them.”

Dion buried his face in his paws. Now she knew what he was. He did not want to look at her; could not bear to do it.

“I’m a monster, I know it. There’s nothing good about me or what I am.” Dion did not look up. “I’ll just go. You’re too good for me and it’s horrible I liked to you for so long. I can’t hide it anymore. It was eating me up and I know you’ll never want to see me again after this.”

Dion waited for the screaming to start. Bracing himself, he knew that something could come flying at his head at any moment. Kept his eyes closed so as not to see any of it. Might have even welcomed death at the time. He felt the weight on the couch shift, then a paw on his shoulders.

“Dion…..” Liz’s voice. He still did not look up when he heard her. “Do you agree with that stuff?”

He looked up. Must have looked terrible with red rims around his violet eyes. Trying not to cry was hard.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Do you see everyone not….. Izorian as a ‘slave race’?”

Dion shook his head rapidly. “No, no! Of course not! If anything, I’m worse than all of them!”

“Easy…..” Liz brushed a paw against his cheek. “You’re not worse than anyone. Don’t talk like that. Have you ever owned slaves?”

He could not shake his head again due to Liz cradling his muzzle in her paw. “No. Never known anyone who has.”

“Then what do you have to feel guilty about?”

Dion understood her logic. Somewhat. “My history, of course. I come from the worst people in history.”

“So? God doesn’t hold us accountable for sins we don’t commit. You don’t own slaves. You’re not speciest. I don’t feel guilty about some of the garbage the founders of our country did, even though I wouldn’t be here without them. You shouldn’t either.”

“That’s different. All the stuff people say, real or imagined, isn’t anywhere near as bad as the Izorians.”

“You say that like it’s a competition.” Liz flicked an ear. “And, if the Izorians were so powerful, what happened to them? You’d think stuff like that’d make the history books.”

“That’s…. the good news, actually.” Dion straightened up. “About a thousand years ago, a plague wiped out about 99% of us. We didn’t really have any defense against it. Made us so weak the civilizations all around us invaded, destroying everything.”

“How’s that good news?”

Dion looked away. Celebrating death was normally a bad thing. In this case, it might have been more like justice. “No more invasions and no more slaves. We had it coming. Only thing left that hasn’t been built over are some ruins near Greece, I think. And, with no one able to read our writing and all of our treasures melted down or destroyed, there’s nothing left.”

“But your family, right?”

“Not just mine. The remnants moved out to a commune somewhere.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know, never been. Grandma Eumelia talked about it sometimes, what she heard from her parents, but she’d never been either.” Anticipating she would ask him to clarify further, he kept talking. No sense stopping now. Tell her everything. “My great grandparents left with a Lutheran missionary, along with a few other families. Helped him found a town.”

“St. Ambrose?”

Dion nodded. “We’ve been there ever since…..”

A thought occurred to Dion. Would Liz tell people about this place? A chill rippled through him. No, she would not do that. She may hate him, but she would not kill all of them, no matter how bad they were. Would she?

“Um…. keep it to yourself, please. Even if you hate me, please.”

“Dion, stop that.”

“Stop what?”

She sighed, sounding annoyed. Instead of answering with more words right away, she did the last thing he expected. Putting her arms around him, she pulled him into a hug.

He froze up; not sure what to say or do. She knew who he was, but this was how she reacted? It was not possible. No one was that forgiving!

“I don’t know who put it into your head you’re some kind of demon, but they’re wrong. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. You’re responsible for you. From everything I’ve seen, you’re a sweet, awkward man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know you better than that.”

Flummoxed, Dion could only stammer. “You’re….. not mad?”

“A little…. but because you vanished. Don’t do that again.”

Dion put his arms around her. “I won’t. But….. you realize what it means to date me, right? Sure you’re okay with dating a weird magical skunk?”

“I think I’ll manage. If anything, I want to know more.”

“Good…. but, my parents always said that there were people out there. People hunting us down. People who haven’t forgotten what we did.”

“No one knows who you are….. you’re just Diomedes Thade, another skunk in a world full of skunks. Let history stay one of those subjects people get a degree in so they can make coffee for a living.”

Dion chuckled. She always knew what to say. “I’ll be an open book from now on……even if some of the pages are in another language.” He hoped this was a promise he could keep. There was some doubt, but she already knew the worst thing about him he could think of. What else could happen to top that?

“All right. I’ll give you a list of questions tomorrow. Essay questions. And if you do something like throw a snowball at me or enchant my TV or bring my roast chicken back from the dead, I’ll be deeply unimpressed with you.”

Dion leaned back, blinked, and laughed. A little levity showed she was the one.