No matter how many times I walked down the halls of our mansion, it never ceased to amaze me. Everything, from the furniture to the decor, from the carpets to the chandeliers, bustled with magic. Even before I knew what magic was, I could feel it bubbling off every surface.

The reason I was so aware of the magic imbued within the walls was because of my upbringing inside the house. With it imbued into everything from the ceiling to the floor, I developed the ability to sense it. Such a thing was not unique; both my parents developed the same thing at a similar age, but my childish mind didn’t care. What mattered was I could see it and others could not.

Being privy to such a world made me oblivious to the design of our home, as I spent my time taking in and absorbing the beauty of the magic rather than the details. Where others saw paintings, I saw colorful particles dancing around them, mingling and intertwining with one another. The magic that stuck out most of all was the lighting. Its particles moved with a vigor unlike anything I ever saw, and I felt pity that so few could enjoy it like I did. Instead, they focused on doilies, sculptures, portraits of long dead Tsars, or nonexistent landscaping.

What I could remember were the light blue colors of the walls, a shade bordering on white. To top it off, a thin gold trim popped against the pure paint.

The gold had magic imbued within, making it move ever so slightly throughout the day. It would take days to notice any change, but over the years, I noticed how the trimming would take on a new pattern by the end of the week.

The chandeliers responsible for illuminating the halls never hung from any chains and kept the lighting constant. Just like the lighting, the temperature remained the same because of further magic in the walls.

What I do recall in greater detail are the statues lining every hall and their presence in every room. When I was learning to walk, the figures would scare me because of a story my grandfather told me of spirits hiding within them. Most of the time, they were benevolent, but if little girls misbehaved, they would grab and drag me into the armor.

As I got older, my fear of them shriveled up, and an intense interest replaced it. It still felt as though they were watching me, as if eyes were peering at my soul, though not with the same ill intent as before. There was a sense of joy in their eyes, like they were happy to see me. Sometimes I would start conversations with them.

The idea of starting one tempted me, but I restrained myself when I realized how much trouble Dragoslava would put me in if she discovered I did. Powered by my desire to leave the house, I pushed past the boyars and continued towards the study.

Such a room, which doubled as a library, was bland compared to the rest of the house because of its lack of magic. Only two spells were in place. The first preserved the books, and the second form allowed the shelves of books to climb higher than the outside would suggest. A skylight was visible, though one had to crane their head to see the top.

Each story had a thin walkway with railings and no means of climbing up. In order to retrieve a book, it was required to either fly up to the desired level or cast a spell to rearrange the books into a favorable position.

The only form of lighting allowed inside the room was a skylight and a single window on the opposite side of the door. Because of the magic ban my parents enforced within the library, non-magical candles were available when the sun set. The reason for the restriction did not concern me, seeing as I could not use magic, and it was only later that I learned the reason.

For all the splendor my home possessed, my family’s study was the biggest showpiece in the mansion. It showed off the apparent knowledge from so many books in so many languages on so many topics.

Whenever we had guests, for whatever reason, my father showed them the library and would spend as much time there as possible. Aside from the impressive display of books, however, there was a lavish wooden desk with papers I did not understand spread out across every inch of the surface. Looking over the papers, I saw an individual I did not recognize.

What I recognized were the telltale signs of a foreigner, the most outstanding of which was the lack of winter clothing. She wore a two-piece outfit, with the inner part being white and the outer piece being a dark shade of blue leaning towards black. Below her neck was another piece of cloth with a purpose I did not understand. A dress hung from her waist to her knees and clung to her legs, but it stretched enough to allow for movement.

Later, I would learn her outfit was called a suit, but the most jarring factor of her appearance was her appearance itself.

It was clear she was not human. No human I had ever met had horns growing from their head like a goat. No human I had ever met had a tail as thick as my shoulders, swaying back and forth. Under her skin were small, reddish-diamond-shaped scales that gave her skin a red hue.

The woman had clawed toes closer in appearance to a chicken’s than a human’s but thicker. From that thickness, I knew each claw had more strength behind it than I had in my entire body. Her hands were closer to mine, but her scales were easier to make out, and her nails looked as sharp as knives.

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Out of every feature she had, what caught my attention the most were her eyes and wings. Yellow irises with pupil slits darted toward me as I entered the room, focusing their predatory attention on me. Her stare pierced my skin, judging whether I was worth being prey. It did not help my confidence when she opened her mouth to reveal teeth meant for ripping into meat.

Attached to her back were two massive wings resembling those of a bat. To look smaller, they clung to the woman’s body, but the attempt was in vain. When one could have substituted my bed, nothing could have made them small enough. A single flap would be enough to knock me over.

“You must be Guinevere,” she mused, a thick German accent coming across, forcing me to take a minute to decipher her words.

“Yes, that is me. I wasn’t aware we would have a German over,” I replied, now conscious of my accent.

“I’m not German, hun. Where I’m from isn’t part of these lowly nations. And even if I were, I’d be Austrian,” she corrected in a tone that made me question whether or not I insulted her.

“Oh, and who would you be, then?” I asked, hoping to mask my nervousness through curiosity.

“The name Andreaki will do, and in case you have not yet figured it out, I am a dragonoid.”

Upon hearing what she was and the pieces clicking in my head, I bowed my head and fell to a knee as if on instinct. For as long as I could remember, my parents and grandparents revered dragons and draconic creatures with a reverence bordering on worship. In their eyes, dragons could do no wrong and were our ultimate benefactors, allowing us to live the life we did. Being as young as I was, I did not understand the full significance my family placed on dragons, but what I understood was that they were important.

“Calm yourself; I’m a dragonoid, not a dragon, and your parents hired me to teach you how to use magic,” she explained, her tone not changing the way mine had.

“There’s a difference?” I inquired, finding the distinction irrelevant.

Andreaki snorted, “I suppose to a child there isn’t. But to us, I assure you, there is. If you impress me enough to stay around, I’ll explain it to you.”

“Why wouldn’t you stay around? Aren’t you being paid to be here?”

“Your parents are offering me a large sum of gold to teach you, but do not think they were the only ones to offer. If I find you not worth the effort, I can easily go off and get my gold elsewhere,” she replied.

“Why do you nee-”

“Hush, we’ll get there when we get there. Now, no more wasting time. Like I said, I have better places to be,” Andreaki interrupted. “Your parents have told me why they contacted me, but I want to hear it from you. Why do you need magic lessons?”

Dissatisfied with her answer but knowing better than to push her further, I turned my attention to her new question.

“I had… an accident,” I answered.

“An accident? Hun, when it comes to magic, an accident can mean thousands of things. What kind of accident?” she pushed.

“I created a bunch of ice and passed out in the middle of a party,” I elaborated.

“That’s not so bad.”

“There were Pangean nobles there.”

Andreaki paused as she processed the information, and a smile grew on her face.

“Of course humans would let something like that happen,” she mumbled with amusement. “I suppose it’s to be expected, though. Allowing outsiders in as often as your family does meant it was only a matter of time before something slipped between the cracks.”

“My mother, my father, and my grandfather were told to interact with the nobility,” I retorted.

“Yes, yes, hun. I’m just poking fun at them. I see why they were so desperate to find a tutor for you. It would be difficult for them to do their job with someone like you running around. How long ago was this?” she mused, holding back a laugh.

“I’m not sure. I was young enough to walk and talk, but not much older,” I answered.

Andreaki’s amusement dried up in an instant as she looked me over.

“That long ago, huh? Why didn’t your parents take up teaching you themselves? Why wait so long to get a tutor?” she inquired, her tone losing much of the emotion it once had.

“I tried asking, but whenever they did, they said they were waiting on a response from The Nest,” I replied.

“Hah! Of course they did. Should've thought of that myself!”

“Why would The Nest not want me to learn magic? Why wait so long?” I inquired, recalling how being denied for such a reason made me feel.

“It’s something every human child under The Nest goes through. They’re very hesitant about who they allow to use magic and want to make sure you don’t become a problem in the future. Throw in the fact such decisions require multiple people in The Nest to agree—individuals who aren’t on friendly terms with one another—it takes time for them to come to any conclusion,” Andreaki elaborated.

Something that simple? I wondered.

“Are you going to stay?” I asked, deciding to conclude about how I felt later.

“I suppose I can stick around for the time being.”