I stared at him for a moment.

"I am not a Medusa, Uncle Ron. I am just a normal human." Even as I said it, I winced at my words. I was no longer human...

Uncle Ron shook his head. "Then you must be one of the transformed."

I looked at him warily, my muscles tensed.

Uncle Ron seemed to notice and shook his head gently. "Look, son." He pulled back his decently long hair to reveal a pair of pointed ears. I swallowed hard. Uncle Ron then bared his teeth, and I saw that his canines were too elongated to be human teeth.

"We are Fae. But you are Medusa. "

I shook my head. "How can you tell the difference?"

Uncle Ron pointed at his own ears. "My ears are slim to the point where they are more triangular than circular. And if you have not noticed, I am generally shorter than the average human. Medusa do not exhibit those features. Ears, rounded with only a slight point. Multi-colored eyes, pupils slightly slitted. And of course, small patches of scales across the body, generally upon the back of the nape, knuckles, and one or two on the forehead. My young boy, if you continue to go around like that, you will be killed."

I shook my head. "Uncle, I have faith in my blade, and I have faith in the hand that wields it."

Uncle Ron sighed. "Son, tell me. As a swordsman, what is it," he said as he reached for a bottle of what seemed to be a strong spirit, "that makes you stronger than other Conquerors?"

He took a heavy swig, and set it down casually.

I answered promptly. "Magic. It is the Magic that fuels me and my blade."

Ron gave a small chuckle. He looked out the small window into the dark night. He waved a hand at his wife, and she quickly nodded, and took their daughter out of the room.

"No. Conquerors are fueled by Solaria. "

I cocked my head to the side. "Solaria?"

"Yes. Solaria, the star that they brought with them when they invaded. They are called Conquerors for a reason. They are like parasites, and they must feed on other worlds to sustain their own life," Uncle Ron spat.

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I wasn't sure what to say to Uncle Ron. I was one of those...Conquerors. I stood quietly. I bowed deeply to Uncle Ron.

"Uncle Ron, if I may still address you as such, I pray that you will allow me to fix my blade before I leave."

Uncle Ron shook his head. "I helped you boy, because you are not a Conqueror. Even if you are one of the transformed, you must have some trace of Ancient blood in your body."

"Uncle, what do you mean by transformed?"

He took another deep drink from his bottle. "Transformed...it is what it sounds to be. You were Conqueror." He drank again, and continued into a dead voice. "But you came to become Ancient, by some thinned blood within your body awakening through a life-or-death situation."

I shook my head. "Then I am not, as you say, Uncle Ron. I was already d-"

A splitting pain suddenly shot through my head like a bullet. My vision suddenly faded to black, and my whole body seemed to lose all connection with the outside world. A cold chill spread its way through my chest, and tightened around my lungs.

A pair of stunning jade green eyes stared at me through the pitch black of my pain. "Do not tell anyone how you came to be."

In the next instant, I was suddenly back in the warm dining room with Uncle Ron. I was sitting there like I just saw a ghost. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my head.

"You are not?"

I suddenly snapped back to reality. "Ah-I meant, I am not sure what you mean by such, Uncle Ron. I am still confused. What is transformed?" In my head, I quickly formed a theory around why Jade did not want me to tell anyone of how I came to be an Ancient.

Uncle Ron nodded. "I am not sure how it will happen either. But generally, since Conquerors and Ancients have coexisted for so long, it's common for interracial intercourse to happen between them. Naturally, the offspring born...are shunned by both races. But, as they continue down the generations, their blood will most likely be washed clean by Conqueror blood, for Ancients are very strict with the purity of bloodlines. As long as there is still a trace of Ancient blood though, in some situations, the descendants of diluted Ancient blood have a rare chance to reawaken the Ancient blood inside of them. You seem to be one of them."

I dipped my head. "It must be as you say then, Uncle."

Uncle Ron sighed heavily, and took another drink from the bottle. He had finished it in three heavy gulps. "Mist, listen to me. Stay a while longer at my smithery. Don't leave until I teach you what you need to know. I made that mistake a long time ago when I left the Fae to seek revenge. And now look at me. Aye, I run a tidy smithy, and make good bread, but my daughter will never see the green of the forests that are Fae. And my wife...thank the Great Spirit she stayed with me, lest I would have lost myself long, long ago. Though she misses the green, too..."

I dipped my head again in gratitude. "Uncle, it would be my honor to stay with you longer."

Uncle Ron gave another heavy sigh, and clapped a calloused hand on his forehead. I could clearly see the bright flush on his cheeks.

"Look at me. A Fae, teaching a Medusa the ways of the Ancient." Uncle Ron shook his head.

"We should be at the smithy by daybreak, son. It takes a while for the fires to warm up the forges."

Again, I could only nod. Did I have a choice? No. No I didn't. And in all honesty, I definitely wanted to know how to use this new body...to its fullest advantage.

...