“Guinevere, do you remember what I told you about my job?” my father asked as I walked out of the study, somewhat proud of myself for setting a new record in how long I lasted.

“You’re supposed to keep people like Illthic and Merthic from sneaking magic to humans and to keep them from figuring it out themselves?” I answered, not sure of the answer. Though that was how I remembered him describing it to me, the fact he was asking cast doubt on the fact.

“And do you know what that entails?” he continued.

I raised an eyebrow, not knowing how else to answer. It was something I never thought much about. The furthest I ever took it was less on how it was done and more on what was done.

Because of my lack of answer, I was expecting some level of disappointment from him for failing to even attempt an answer. Because of this, his smile surprised me.

“I was expecting as such,” he chuckled. “Will you need a change of clothes?”

Once again not sure of the answer, I looked down to check. Considering how common magic misfires were, rips and burns had the habit of covering my clothes. I used magic to mend them where I could, but there was only so much I could do.

Seeing there were little more than wrinkles, I shook my head.

“Everything looks good; are we going somewhere?” I inquired.

While my father answered with a smile, I did not have the same joy he did. If we were going to be going somewhere, it meant we were going by carriage, and while the idea of playing a game of magic toss with him on the way to our destination brought a smile to my face, I could not help but connect the ride with the incident at the village.

My father saw this connection as well and shook his head.

“We won’t be going by carriage. A carriage won’t take us where we need to go,” he explained as he turned around.

Curious as to what he meant, I followed suit, wondering where he would take me, not sure what to expect.

If there was no need for a carriage, it led me to believe he wanted to take me somewhere in the house. Through meaningless meandering, I had wandered into every room of the mansion, and there was not one that came to mind that he would want to take me to. If he wanted to talk to me about something, any room would have done the job. Yet the way he phrased it made me think we were going somewhere special.

A level of excitement I was not expecting washed over me as I began contemplating what it could be. Secret passages, magic teleporters—anything was on the table, and each step made me more and more excited for whatever it could have been.

It surprised me when he stopped at the end of a hallway with a desk at the end. Taking the desk in either hand, he pushed it down, sinking it into the ground and allowing full access to the wall. Gesturing for me to follow, my father walked through the wall like it wasn’t there.

I was hesitant to follow. Aside from the obvious aversion my instincts had toward walking into walls, there was also the fact the one he walked through had nothing behind it besides the outside. Deep down, I knew there would be a room behind it, one manipulated to be invisible just like the study was with its height, but with us on the third story, that knowledge did little to comfort me.

Closing my eyes to blot out the fears, I darted headfirst forward, resulting in me bumping into something I did not see. Afraid I had run into the wall instead of going through, I opened my eyes to see it had been my father, and I was in a new room.

The room was lit by a swirling sphere of magic blue energy that painted everything in a blue hue located in the middle of the room. The size of the ball was enough to fit me three times. Aside from it and the small golden spires below it that fueled the ball, the room was empty. Nothing of note embellished the black marble wall. Whatever the substance really was, it absorbed the light of the orb and added shadows to the corners.

“What is that?” I muttered to myself as I became mesmerized by its swirling nature.

Not only was I referring to the orb itself, but to the low hum that filled the room and reverberated off the walls, yet was dead silent. It was as if my ears were trying to convince my mind there was a noise when there wasn’t.

“This is where I do most of my work,” my father answered.

To demonstrate what he meant, my father extended his arms at the orb, causing it to freeze and go from transparent to opaque for a few seconds before the hum disappeared and an image took form in the ball.

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The image was a top view of one of the villages in our territory. The buildings in it lacked much of the decay of the one the Winter Witches were in and housed up to a hundred peasants. A few of the buildings looked as if they were due for a few repairs, but by and large, they were all in good condition.

What surprised me was how easy it was to pick out the people. Without exception, the people were painted in glowing outlines of varying colors that made those inside visible through the walls and roofs. Red, blue, yellow, and every other color under the sun coated the serfs.

“Do you know what that is?” my father asked, pointing at the people.

I shook my head.

“Those are the Auras of the people,” he explained.

“Why does it show their Aura?” I asked.

“A human’s Aura has limits to how much it will expand throughout their life. This can be charted throughout the years to determine where it should be at each stage of their life with reasonable accuracy. Using magic causes an Aura to deviate from this path by making it larger than it should be. Because of that, it makes it easy to pick out those who are using magic,” he answered.

Lifting his arms once more, my father swiped his hand to the side a few more times, changing the image to other villages within our territory. Once his search came to a favorable conclusion, he clapped his hands to make the sphere return to its original form.

“This method, as easy and effective as it is in catching those in the midst of learning magic, cannot get everything. There are several methods more skilled practitioners are capable of that allow them to make their Auras look smaller. To catch them requires a more direct, personal approach, which unfortunately, as you saw with the Winter Witches, requires them to make a move in order for us to do anything,” he continued.

“So this is what you do all day? You go village by village, checking to make sure no one is using magic?” I inquired, feeling a pang of disappointment. Though it was more information on how my father did his job, it was less than what I was expecting.

“Not quite. It’s the first thing I do when I start and the last thing I do when I finish, but there is more I do. This is why I wanted you to come with me—to show you what it is I do. You’re getting older, Guinevere; you are getting to the point where you must be ready to step up for the family as the eldest,” he answered.

His explanation set off a number of emotions in me. The first thing that came to mind was a sense of shock at the idea I would be inheriting my parents' roles. It was something I knew would come eventually, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon. After the initial shock died down, my focus shifted to the latter part of his sentence.

“What do you mean, eldest? I’m your only child,” I said.

A look of embarrassment spread across my father’s face as it turned red. Had he not held back his voice, he would have ended up a bumbling mess as he reigned in his thoughts.

“For now,” he clarified, clearing his throat to put an end to the conversation.

Though I dwelt on his words a few moments longer than he wanted, I dropped them when I considered what he was implying. Having recently received “the talk,” the idea of it disgusted me, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

To clear my mind of the implications, I focused on my parents' expectation that I would take over for them.

“So what is it you do for the rest of the day?” I asked.

“Sit, let me show you,” he replied.

Following his instructions, I watched as my father’s hands glowed the same color as the sphere, once again revealing the transparent magic.

Instead of an image of a village or some other place, the imagery of a long reptilian face greeted me. I knew what I was looking at was a dragon. When my father proved my suspicion true when he kneeled before them.

When I realized what was in front of me, I was quick to follow his lead. This differed from being in the presence of Andreaki. While my parents hammered into me to treat her with respect, her humanoid form made it difficult to raise her to the level my parents wanted me to.

But no such confusion could occur with the beast, whose eyes focused on us. There was not a hint of anything human about him.

“Is it that time again?” a deep, booming voice asked as it echoed through the room, sounding amused by the fact.

“Yes, my lord,” my father confirmed without looking up. “The task bestowed upon us has been completed.”

“Good. And who might the little one to the side be?” the dragon inquired.

As he asked his question, I made the mistake of meeting his gaze, and I realized why my father was not doing the same. Doing so filled my body with an aching sensation spanning from the surface of my skin to the depths of my bones. I would have let out a groan had my lungs been able to take in the necessary air. Only by looking away did the sensation disappear.

“This is my daughter, Guinevere. Please, pay her no mind. She is just reaching the age where we must begin teaching her to take up my mantle, and I wanted her to experience what it is she will do firsthand,” my father explained.

Reptilian eyes focused on me, and I felt his gaze bearing down on me, making it more difficult to breathe as invisible forces squeezed my body. When the dragon’s eyes glowed yellow, I could feel my blood flow slow to a crawl.

All the pressure he was putting me under lessened to a tolerable degree once his eyes returned to normal. Some of it remained, staying in place as if to remind me of the dragon’s strength.

“No. I don’t think she will,” he said after his magic finished. “I believe we will have other uses for her.”