Diyrl grins wolfishly. “And another thing…What would you do with magic abilities if you had them, Adahlia?”

Adahlia only needs a brief moment to think. Returning Diyrl’s wolfish grin, Adahlia steeples her hands in front of her. “I promise I would use them only for good.”

Diyrl lifts her head to the sky and releases a bellowing laugh.

_

_

“You expect me to believe that?” Diyrl replies sarcastically. “But no matter. Magick which is used unwisely always has a way of coming back around for a bite of revenge. In this way, evil is easily dealt with. Take that as a warning to only do what is right. It is the only one you will get. Magick has only one truly unbreakable rule: respect the source. Do not abuse the powers you are given—No matter how you may have obtained them. They can just as easily be taken away. If one intends for you to do evil; do only what you must until you are able to overrule or overthrow the force in question. Never directly harm another without just cause. Do you understand what I am telling you, Adahlia?”

Adahlia nods, not fulling understanding the meaning behind Diyrl’s lecture. “Yes, Diyrl. I understand. But why are you telling me all of this? I don’t have any magic?”

Diyrl’s wolfish grin returns. “Not yet, anyway!”

Diyrl encloses Adahlia with a wing and draws her in close. Adahlia’s pulse increases as she stares into the enormous wyvern’s reptilian eyes.

“Diyrl?” Adahlia utters with a small hint of terror. “What are you doing?”

Diyrl does not respond. Instead, she allows the thin membranes which act as a second eyelid to slide shut. Once again, the true color of Diyrl’s eyes is obscured and they take on a hazy hue. Diyrl purses her lips and places them against Adahlia’s forehead. Adahlia grows rigid—afraid to move even an inch in the large dragon’s grasp. Diyrl slowly draws away from Adahlia. In the gap between her lips and Adahlia’s flesh; a pale blue light pulsates. Next, the same glow emanates from the interior of Diyrl’s nostrils and forms an upside down triangle. The pulsating becomes a steady glow and the triangle appears to burn itself into Adahlia’s forehead. Adahlia still does not move. Only now, she is in a trance-like state—her eyes a pale version of their former color.

The ritual goes on for several minutes. Diyrl mutters a string of magic words every so often and the intensity of the glowing light ebbs. More than once, the color of the light grows deeper or changes altogether.

Finally, Diyrl releases Adahlia from within the fold of her wing. Adahlia remains standing straight as a sentry; her eyes focused on absolutely nothing. Diyrl leans close and stares into Adahlia’s unseeing eyes. She exhales deeply and a faint puff of blue smoke wisps out of her nostrils and slowly enters Adahlia’s nose. Adahlia’s eye color gradually returns to normal and she breathes a soft sigh. She adjusts her gaze to Diyrl’s immense face.

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“How do you feel?” Diyrl asks in a quiet voice. There is an undercurrent of concern in her question.

Adahlia smiles from ear to ear and tilts her head slightly. “Never better, Diyrl! Never better!”

Diyrl leans closer to Adahlia and whispers conspiratorially. “Let’s keep this between us for now. Okay?”

_

_

It is close to three hours later when Adahlia and Diyrl arrive back at the campsite. Diyrl plops in her favorite spot under the shade trees and curls her tail around her body—covering her face with the exception of her mischievous eyes. She watches Lerfaf for any indication that he is aware of the change in Adahlia. Lerfaf offers Adahlia a cordial greeting and strolls toward his own favored spot amongst the trees. Lerfaf’s neutral reaction gives Diyrl no clue as to his knowledge of Adahlia’s newly attained abilities. Diyrl shrugs mentally and focuses on relaxing. The magick transfer process is a draining one and now she must rest. She is asleep almost before her secondary eyelids shut.

Adahlia drops down on the ground near the camp’s stone firepit. She vigorously rubs both hands together with an inward grin. She is still immersed in happy thoughts when Sotet approaches her with a wrapped bundle.

“Adahlia,” Sotet trills softly.

Adahlia raises her eyes to Sotet’s face and her smile grows larger. “Hi, Sotet. I didn’t hear you approach,” Adahlia replies.

Sotet extends Adahlia the bundle he is holding.

“As I promised,” Sotet trills proudly.

Adahlia squeals and jumps to her feet. She wraps Sotet in a fierce hug. She draws away after a brief moment. Tears stream down Adahlia’s face as she takes the wrapped bundle Sotet is offering to her.

“Already? You’ve finished them already?” Adahlia nearly screams with excitement. Sotet only nods.

Without another moment of ceremony, Adahlia quickly unfolds the bundle in her hands. A bandolier— every bit as beautiful as Zorobo’s—, a belt, and a half-sword sheaved in thick, shiny emerald-green material; are nestled at the center of the bundle. Adahlia squeals with excitement and drops to her knees. She carefully places the bundle on the ground, and extracts the bandolier—holding it up to the fading light of the dual suns.

“It’s beautiful,” Adahlia coos softly. She replaces the bandolier and reaches for the belt and half-sword. She examines each one intensely. “They’re just so beautiful! I love them. Thank you so much, Sotet!”

Sotet points at the bundle of cloth on the ground.

“That’s not everything,” Sotet informs Adahlia. “Unfold it.”

Adahlia does as instructed. She gasps as she realizes that it is a new dress fashioned of purple, red, and emerald-green material. Adahlia releases another loud squeal and hugs the dress to her chest. She inhales deeply—taking in the scent of the material.

“It’s all so beautiful,” she repeats. “I love you, Sotet. This is the best birthday present you could have ever given me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sotet says with a grin. He struggles in vain to suppress tears of his own.

Once again climbing to her feet, Adahlia rushes to the stone cottage to try on her new accessories. Sotet hangs his head in both sorrow and deep gratitude. Some of the material used to make Adahlia’s new dress had once belonged to a shawl Kotoro must have asked Horotic to sneak into their supplies. Kotoro, his once and forever mate. Kotoro, his only love. Kotoro; now only a living memory. Every time he looks at Adahlia’s dress; he will think of Kotoro. Her love, her compassion, and her bravery. She will live on through them all. He will see to that.