The only way to describe the passing days was hectic. Everyone from my parents to the maids ran in and out of the house, performing tasks I did not comprehend.

Andreaki’s death devastated everyone in my family, and I was no different, though the level and type of devastation differed from person to person.

My father rushed around, making every accommodation he could for her body to be sent home in luxury, or at least as luxurious as a corpse could be. He provided her with a casket of gold and silver and encrusted it with nearly a hundred jewels, with the smallest being the size of my fist.

After cleansing her body to prevent her from coming back as an undead and healing her injuries, he filled the coffin with gold and silver as coins and topped it off with jewels.

I had never seen so much wealth in one place, and I found it hard to believe all of Russia had a fraction of the wealth present in her burial.

Despite how much effort my father put into sending her home, he felt uncertain if it was enough. I overheard him pacing around the mansion at nights, going room to room, muttering under his breath about his fears and worries about whether we would be forgiven for allowing such a tragedy to transpire.

My mother, who also shared many of the fears my father did, concentrated her efforts on discovering how such a thing could happen.

She poured over every nook and cranny of our home, looking for any crack in our defenses, patching any she found, and enforcing the areas where she found none. Walls once laden with magic art and beauty found themselves replaced with metal plating; the number of statues tripled, and no matter where I went, it felt as if eyes followed me everywhere.

Dragoslava somehow became more dour than she already was, and the rare smiles she flashed me when I practiced my magic disappeared. The time I saw her around the mansion plummeted, and she would not tell me where she went when I asked.

She was on edge at all times, and several times I sneaked up on her by not announcing my presence. Before the incident, I would have laughed at her response, but after, it pained me to see her reduced to such a state.

After my family sent my tutor’s body back to her family in her glamorous coffin, my father joined my mother in shoring up the security around our home, taking the work outside the mansion walls. Like my mother, he hid them from view, but I noticed defenses ranging from our backyard garden to the edges of the village forest. Not an inch went unchecked, and a mouse couldn’t sneeze without him knowing about it.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have had the time to do all the work he piled on top of himself. The only reason he had time to do so was because the work The Nest gave him either ground to a halt or could be done alongside his investigation.

I could tell such a thing was not to his liking, but since he could do nothing about it, he swallowed his pride and went about what he could do.

It’s funny to look back on. Andreaki had only been in our lives for a brief moment, and yet her death affected us in a way nothing had ever done before.

I felt Andreaki’s passing in that she was the first person I knew who died. I understood the concept of death and dying, but no one I knew ever did. My grandfather and grandmother both visited from time to time, and my great grandparents passed on before I was born.

There was also concern about what came next. My magic tutor was gone, and no one talked about finding a replacement. I practiced from time to time, but without instruction, I wandered around in circles, never sure what to do next.

—

It took half a year before I could continue my magic studies in proper, though by then I questioned whether there was anything more I could learn.

Through personal experiments, I broke past the limits Andreaki’s absence put on me and became proficient in using elemental magic. I even began experimenting with psychic magic, and through those, I figured a tutor could teach me nothing more. All I needed was practice. With a little luck, I would start using other forms of magic by the end of the year.

Despite believing myself capable of such things, I knew how much effort my parents went through to arrange for a new tutor and did not want to put their efforts to waste, so I went along with their request.

The moment I saw who they employed, my confidence plummeted. When I first laid eyes on the man, I thought he was a vagrant. His skin was pale and unhealthy, looking as if worms burrowed through his veins, as if he were no more than a rotten piece of fruit.

The man’s hair was oily to an unnatural degree, and embers from a match strike would set him alight. On the opposite side of the room, I smelled the oils running down, dripping to the ground, making a puddle at his feet.

A second inhalation of the air he sullied told me his hair’s stench was not what I needed to worry about. The odor emanating from his body forced me to forget all manners as I gagged. I made the mistake of walking further in and learned it got thicker the closer I got to him; each step akin to walking through a solid cloud of his stench.

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He confused black rags befitting peasants for clothes, and while he wore enough to cover everything important and then some, they were a thread pull away from changing that status.

I could not put a pin on what he could be. A human would have been my guess, but a closer inspection made me notice his unnatural thinness and limbs disproportionate to his body. Combined with the already observed features, I had no clue what he could be.

“You’re early,” he rasped.

He’s a corpse, I thought, rubbing my eyes to make sure what was in front of me wasn’t an illusion. To my chagrin, nothing changed.

Comparisons toward Andreaki started against my will, and each one I made created a deeper sense of dread that the responsibility for my magical education fell onto this man.

“I…wanted to get started early,” I replied, trying to hold back my desire to leave the cloud of odor.

I’m not seeing the smell, am I? I wondered.

Silence fell between us as his pale orange eyes looked me over, as mine had with him. While I waited for him to come to his conclusion, I questioned whether or not his degrading eyes could see me without glasses.

“And who would you be?” I asked.

“Grite.”

Fitting, I thought as we fell back into silence.

“Are we not going to get started?” I inquired.

“No, you are early,” Grite replied.

A spike of rage filled my heart. As often as Andreaki sent me off to figure things out on my own, she was there for me when I did, regardless of when she came. The change to such an arrangement did not sit well with me, and I had to restrain myself from speaking out against it. He was not Andreaki, but he was going to teach me. It was not in my best interest to anger him.

Not sure what a vagrant can teach me, my thoughts betrayed.

Seeing that Grite would not budge on his decision and seeing as I was already in the study, I took a seat and started focusing on my Aura.

When I used magic, I lost myself, becoming oblivious to my surroundings as I created whatever I did. This time I made a figurine of light, an element I struggled with.

“A little crude, don’t you think?” Griste asked.

Nothing warned me of his approach, causing me to jump and for my figurine to explode. Before I could comprehend how he got over my shoulder without me hearing so much as a footstep, I gagged as his smell caught up to his body.

“I’m still working on it,” I explained, powering through the odor.

Griste said nothing in return, content to look over my shoulder to observe my progress.

Apart from the distraction his stench provided, goosebumps covered my arms from him watching over me, judging my work in silence. Because of the distraction, my figure came out blurry, phasing in and out of sight, making its movement choppy.

“Do you want something?” I inquired as my magic dissipated from my inability to concentrate.

“I asked if you thought it was crude,” he answered.

“It’s difficult to focus on it when you're looking over my shoulder,” I shot back.

“So you are unable to use magic when distracted? I’ve met children younger than yourself capable of doing so under more pressure than a simple outsider's view. Do you believe that my eyes are the worst distraction out there?” Griste mused.

A sense of anger I had not felt for some time spiked in my chest, and if I had been casting magic, it would have imploded.

But despite my anger, I had no comeback to his slight and instead focused my attention back on my magic to prove him wrong. In response, his stench increased in potency, and I once again gagged.

After a few more attempts resulting in the same outcome, I stood up and walked to the other side of the room to continue. Unlike before, when Griste left me alone for the first few minutes, the man followed me where I went, gliding across the ground rather than walking.

“Can I help you?” I asked once I realized he followed.

My tutor shook his head, and I let out a sigh under my breath and once again tried to put distance between us to similar effect. By then, I realized Griste would not leave me alone, and I stomped my foot down.

“Are we going to start the lesson? Because if this is all you’re going to do, I think you should leave!” I shouted.

Griste raised an eyebrow as if oblivious to what I meant, raising my anger even higher than it was before. It became a conscious effort to keep my magic in check and hold back the torrent of magic that wanted to pour out.

Griste’s lips curled beyond human possibility, showing three rows of dull, rotting teeth and grayish-brown saliva in between.

“You are not in any position to be making demands, girl,” he said without losing the smile.

“Considering that my parents are hiring you, you will find that I do,” I replied.

Griste’s smile lacked warmth from the beginning, but my response provoked malice in his lips—malice that made me step away from his frame.

The hunch he possessed made him reach little more than my height, but upon gaining his smile, he straightened himself out, revealing the truth of his height. While still frail and skinny, he towered over me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his eyes as he leaned over me.

“The Medvedev family hired me because I was the only one who was willing to take the job. If I leave, you have no one,” he gloated.

“What?” I sputtered, “You lie!”

“Do I? A draconic being was killed in your estate,” he rebutted.

The glee on his face when I did not retaliate forced laughter from the pale man's lungs, and I had to shield myself from his spit.

“Not only are they failures in protecting such an esteemed guest, they are failures in teaching their one daughter what is important,” he scoffed, finding humor in something I still did not understand.

“Explain,” I hissed.

“I suppose if your parents won’t teach you, then I-”

“I know how important dragons are!” I interrupted, and a hint of chilled wind blew his clothes back, failing to achieve the fear-mongering I wanted it to.

“Then do you not see what a failure to protect such an important individual means? Do you not see how that reflects on your family? Your family vouched hard to get Andreaki to come to your estate, and she died because of your failings. I’m surprised you are still allowed in The Nest after such a disgra-”

My vision blurred with red, and before I could get a grasp on my rage, I felt light-headed.