Keeping my focus was becoming a Herculean task.

Mister Kendon was in his element, passionately unraveling the complexities of an illusion magic spell. He had a knack for taking the most convoluted concepts and attempting to explain them by comparing them to mundane things, often complicating the issue further by adding irrelevant details. His methods didn't always hit the mark, but that never deterred him.

In a desperate bid to entertain myself, I balanced my quill perfectly on my finger. No way was I putting it on my nose again—not after the last fiasco where a rogue breeze gave me an ink mustache.

That day was the worst.

The blackboard might as well have been a blank slate for all I cared. My attention was miles away because, unlike my classmates with their mana veins, I had none. I was magically impotent, a fate sealed from birth. I'd come to terms with it now.

My gaze wandered to the trio of giggling girls two desks ahead. Elise and her friends, likely snickering about another prank. Elise had a petite frame, big blue eyes, and long, wavy chestnut hair. Her attire was rather modest—no skin showing, but she didn't need to; most of the lads were already smitten.

Perhaps she caught me staring, because Elise looked back, smiled, and gave me a little wave. I quickly averted my gaze. She seemed so pure and harmless to everyone. If only they knew. If only they had seen what lay beneath that mask.

My heart raced as the lunch hour approached. Mister Kendon was wrapping up, and I needed to escape before Elise noticed. The moment he announced the end of class, the noise level surged, and everyone rushed for the exit. I was first out the door, practically sprinting without looking back. There was no way I could eat my lunch in peace if I went to the usual spot.

I recognised that look on Elise's face—she was definitely up to something. I wanted no part of it. My plan was to head straight to the hidden area where I'd been having lunch for the past fortnight.

The stables stood right beside the school, serving a dual purpose. They were used to teach students how to rear Manaroes, Quilidars, and Rustanges. Manaroes were massive, ox-like magical beasts, capable of hauling impossibly heavy loads. Quilidars, on the other hand, resembled two-headed Deinonychus with feathers. They were lightning-fast, though not built for carrying weight, mostly used by those needing to travel quickly outside the village.

Rustanges looked like a bulkier breed of Quilidars. I had no idea what a Deinonychus was, but I was sure it came from my strange dreams. Since childhood, I'd dreamt of them, like they belonged to another world. Over time, the dreams faded, slipping through the cracks of my memory.

But every so often, out of nowhere, unfamiliar words would flash through my mind. Now, I knew exactly what a Deinonychus looked like: a single-headed Quilidar, with far fewer feathers. I had to bite back a laugh at how bare it seemed without its plumage. It must’ve been a magical beast too.

The stables were my haven. They were a large, sturdy structure made of weathered wood, standing tall and long with a roof thatched with straw. The scent of hay and the soft nickering of beasts created a serene atmosphere. Each stable was spacious enough to comfortably house the creatures, with wide aisles running between the stalls.

I sat by the wall, pulling out a sandwich and nibbling around the edges, saving the delectable core for last. Suddenly, there was a slight rustle. I frowned—no one was supposed to come here.

I peeked outside and saw Elise with her friends, giggling as they approached the stables. My heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, I ducked behind a stack of hay bales, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible. Some of the hay might get stuck in my hair, but I couldn't care less.

I could still hear their giggling through the thin stable walls, being so close to the entrance. But they didn't come inside.

"Did you see her face in class? She was completely zoned out," one of her friends said, laughing.

Elise responded with a giggle, "Yeah, she's always so lost. Well, I would be too if I were her. Have you seen her horns? They're fully grown again."

"Yeah, blasted abomination. Do you think her father did it with a Ram-kin?"

All three burst into laughter.

They were talking about me. Feeling self-conscious, I touched my horns. They were cold and almost metallic to the touch. That's part of why I was their target: I wasn't like them. Not like any human or beast-kin either. I was half. And I didn't belong with either of them. My father was a human, working under the current head of town Alcor, under whose jurisdiction our village of Randall fell. Perhaps the only reason I hadn't been killed off yet, but it didn't stop people from plotting against me.

The giggles finally fizzled out, and so did the footsteps. I exhaled a sigh of relief that could've blown a feather away. Just to double-check, I cast a contemplative gaze outside—nada, zilch, zip. Looked like they were just out for a stroll. I practically melted into the floor, whipping out my half-eaten sandwich.

Nibbling at the sides, I let out a blissful sigh after devouring the scrumptious core. Delightful didn't even begin to cover it.

This part of the stable housed the babies, so it wasn’t particularly risky to linger here. I wandered over to a baby Quilidar, and wow, it really did resemble one of those Deinonychi from my dream world. I gave one of its heads a scratch, which immediately seemed to offend the other. I quickly pulled my hand back before they both licked their fangs and gave me a thoughtful sniff.

Hehe, they couldn't resist the magic of a good head scratch—something they wouldn’t forget anytime soon. I showered them with affection, from both their heads and necks all the way down to their scaly little tummies. Both heads hissed in delight the entire time, and by the end, their single tail was wagging like mad. But then, the sharp ring of the bell signaled the end of lunch hour, forcing me to say goodbye and step out of the stable.

I really should have paused to think. The moment I did, I felt something pressing against my sides—gooey, vile, and now dripping over my head. The smell, the stench, the filth seeped down my face, cascading through my hair. It didn't stop until my neck, clothes, skirt, and even shoes were stained. Some of it squelched into my shoes.

Magic beast faeces. And it burned as it dribbled across my skin. I fell down, screaming, writhing, scratching myself, rolling on the ground to get it off me. But the burning sensation didn't stop. Then I saw them, Elise and her friends, their illusions fading like ripples through calm water. They laughed, giggled, clutching the wall in fits of mirth, as if what they did was oh-so-hilarious.

Their hands moved, and the water ripples stilled again, making them disappear—Magic of the Winter Salamander path. The faeces still burned on my skin, but what burned deeper was my hatred for them.

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I dashed out of the school, tears streaming down my face, rushing past the dozing guard. A few students loitering around glanced my way; some with sympathy, others with outright amusement. I despised this place. I ran through the streets, the only sanctuary in this wretched town being my home. Just a bit further now.

The squelching sound beneath my shoes was unbearable; some of the filth had seeped in, spreading its stench and a burning sensation. This wasn't the worst prank Elise and her gang had pulled. Time and again, they proved capable of much worse.

I burst into my house, slamming the door behind me. The floorboards groaned as I ran, leaving a trail of muck in my wake. I carefully avoided the broken step and headed to my room on the first floor. Father wasn't home; he was off in Alcor for work and wouldn't be back until nightfall. I burst into my room and touched the Hydro Rune on the wall.

I didn't have any mana to activate these magical tools myself, so Father had installed one with a pre-charged magic battery. It cost him twice the usual amount, but he did it for me. Water poured out, washing away the slimy filth as I cried on the bathroom floor.

I kept telling myself I could endure it. I was sixteen, just one more year, and I could graduate. With some help from Father, I could apprentice under an enchanter and secure a respectable job. But each day was worse than the last. I loathed the school, that sea of strangers.

I wept as I scrubbed the slimy patches of faeces from my hair. Slowly, I peeled off my soiled clothes and stared into the mirror.

The girl in the mirror stared back at me. She was sixteen, with an unfamiliar term echoing in my mind—half Asian, perhaps a remnant of my forgotten world. She had horns that ran like twisted crowns, curling around her head, solid and almost scaly. If one looked closely, they'd notice the colour mismatches, evidence they'd been cut off more than once. Her waterfall of raven-black hair clung to her once-pristine skin, now marred with patches of burns.

I couldn't hold back the tears. Probably the only thing I had going for me was my beauty. My eyes were narrow, my gaze intense. I was taller than the average girl my age, and my muscles were rather toned, making me physically capable even without magic. If only I had been born without these horns! I would have been normal. Someone who wouldn't be called an abomination. Someone whose father wasn't belittled behind his back for bedding a beast kin.

If only. I sobbed. If only that were possible.

"I can do this." The burns would heal, those faces would be gone, just one more year. A single one.

"I can do this," I clenched my fists, repeating the mantra through gritted teeth.

"I can…" A quiet sob interrupted my mantra. A wave of negativity washed over me, and I almost intoned 'can't' before a blaze in my eyes intensified. "I will do this! I will get through it!"

I wasn't sure what drove me. Was it the searing anger, blazing like an inferno inside me, stoking my resolve? Was it the recollection of my father's steadfast support, the sacrifices he made for my sake? Or perhaps it was sheer obstinacy, the refusal to let them break me, to prove to them and to myself that I was far stronger than they had ever anticipated.

Perhaps it was a blend of all these things. This anger, it was my strength. The love gave me purpose, and the stubbornness bestowed resilience. Whatever it was, it had been the source of unwavering determination deep within me from the very start.

I would endure. I would rise above. I would survive.

It was only for a year, after all.

***

Shopkeeper Mekhael, with his wild and scruffy beard, peered at me suspiciously. I had my head and mouth wrapped in a scarf, bundled up in winter gear from head to toe, leaving no skin exposed. I cleared my throat and mumbled, "I need, er, two pieces of Sunbarm root, three ounces of holy water, and, um, a pinch of salamander's breath, a vial of moorshadow extract, and a sprig of witch's thyme."

Mekhael, the grizzled old merchant, was well-connected with the roving band of traders known as 'Merit.' His shop was a treasure trove for adventurers, stocked with all sorts of versatile gear. Many would bypass nearby towns just to visit his store. Sure, I could've bought a ready-made healing potion, but I was a top-notch alchemy student at my school. I knew how much of a rip-off it was to buy potions off the shelf when you could whip them up yourself with the right ingredients.

Besides, I had a concoction in mind that was far superior.

Mekhael gave me a once-over, grunted, and shuffled towards the leftmost aisle, muttering under his breath. He grabbed two gnarly pieces of Sunbarm root and plonked them onto the counter. Next, he fetched an ornate flask and filled a vial with two ounces of a yellow, piss-like liquid. I knew the recipe for holy water, but it was a time-consuming process I couldn't afford right now.

Mekhael then turned to a dusty, old wooden box filled with countless tiny vials and extracted one containing a pinch of white salamander's breath. It looked like plain white powder at first glance, but if one peered closely, they'd see a spectral illusion dancing around with too many eyes, teeth, and leaves fluttering in an eerie wind. I quickly tore my gaze away, not wanting to stare for too long.

Next up was a vial containing a slimy, purple liquid clinging to its walls—the moonshadow extract. Its appearance made me uneasy, reminding me of something unpleasant I'd recently had to comb out of my hair. Finally, he reached into a jar and pulled out a sprig of witch's thyme. The herb had dark, almost black leaves and emitted a sharp, spicy scent.

"That'll be one silver," Mekhael grumbled.

I frowned. "Excuse me, how is it one silver?"

Mekhael raised an eyebrow. "Ingredients aren't cheap, kid."

Oh great, now he was messing with me too. Maybe he didn't recognise me.

I leaned in, scowling, my eyes narrowing. "Oh, I know very well how much these ingredients cost. Two pieces of Sunbarm root? That's worth half a silver at best. And holy water? We both know it's just purified spring water with a dash of goldleaf. You can't fool me; I've made it before."

He grunted but didn't interrupt.

"The white salamander's breath isn't even rare in our valley; there are plenty of salamander molts around the river, but a pinch of it doesn't cost more than a few coppers. Moonshadow extract is just a paste of Moonshadow grass, tricky to handle but not worth a silver on its own. And witch's thyme? It's not even in season. You're overcharging by at least a quarter silver."

Mekhael's scowl deepened. "Alright, smart aleck, how much are you willing to pay?"

I tapped my fingers on the counter, pretending to calculate. "How about three-quarters of a silver? That's more than fair, considering the actual value of these ingredients."

He sighed, clearly not thrilled. "Fine. Three-quarters of a silver it is. But don't go spreading it around that old Mekhael got swindled by a kid in a scarf."

I grinned, handing over the coins. "Deal!"

Oh, more of his secrets were safe with me. If he realized he had just tried to swindle Reiner's daughter, he would probably hand over the ingredients for free. But I didn't want to deal with him knowing I had bought these ingredients, which would inevitably mean my father knowing too. Just as I was about to turn away, I hesitated and frowned.

No, I shook my head. I really shouldn't take her ramblings for facts.

But, what if…

I immediately turned back to old Mekhael. "Umm, I would like to buy something else too."