She came too slowly, expecting to hear her mother’s gentle voice, smell the leather of the shoes her father made, and see her little sister in the bed across the room from her.

Horrifically, this was far from the reality. Instead what greeted her was the sound of an enthusiastic, yet unwelcome voice. The smell of singed hair and flesh invaded her nostrils, and the face of the gods forsaken Faedemon whose house she was sleeping in appeared in her vision.

“Rise and shine, Miss Cora! You have lots of work to do!” He grinned.

She sat up. The bed she’d slept in was far better than that of her cottage, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong this was, “Of course.” She muttered, the feeling of her dream already beginning to fade. “What should I get started on, sir?”

“Sir?” He laughed. “There’s no need for such formalities. Come, Come. Let us adjourn to the greenhouse. You can have your pick of the produce for breakfast, then I would like you to tend to the garden today. I’m afraid the plants have gotten a bit unruly.”

She stood up, the last wisp of the feeling of being home having faded, as she followed the Faedemon to the greenhouse.

“Oh, Miss Cora!” He chirped, stopping suddenly as they reached the door, “I buried the lede! I have fantastic news! I do believe I have had a grand breakthrough in my experiments. Of course there’s still a ways to go but that lovely little goat from your grove survived 13 whole seconds after the Spell I cast on her! 13 seconds! Can you believe that? That’s 8 seconds longer than my best attempt before. She certainly was my lucky charm. Isn’t that amazing?” He spun in place merrily before staring her in the eyes, expecting a similar reaction.

Her brain processed her words slowly, horrified, “You….The goat from my grove… You killed Neve?” She was stunned for a moment before her eyes filled with tears.

“I knew you’d be thrilled, but I didn’t expect tears of joy! Marvelous! I--” He frowned as he looked at her dress, which had begun to rain. “Strange. I don’t recall rain being associated with joy. Admittedly you are the first human I’ve been around in a very long time, is that a newer human development? Because I could have sworn rain meant…” He trailed off as a sob escaped Corabelle and she buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Her only friend for these long decades and he’d used, and killed, her for his experiments.

“Oh.” He realized, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted to milk her first. That was terribly wasteful of me, I apologize. Worry not, I still have the body. We can still make use of her and have a good breakfast.” He patted her shoulder quickly and awkwardly. “I don’t believe the spell should have altered the meat in any way that would make it inedible. Besides, the spell roasted her for us. We can eat right now while she’s still hot.”

She covered her mouth with both hands as her stomach roiled with the sudden realization that the burnt smell that had invaded her room and clinging to the Faedemons clothes and hair was Neve’s burnt remains. She locked eyes with him, hoping he might realize.

“Oh my! I understand!” He exclaimed, seeming very proud that he appeared to have figured it out. “It wasn’t about the silly goat at all. You’re ill! That’s why you’re upset! Why didn’t you say that earlier? No wonder you seemed so withdrawn. Human illness is a simple fix.” He set a hand on top of her head for a mere second. The world swam for a moment, and she felt fine… physically. She was still sobbing at the loss of her friend. He stared confusedly at her, “That should have worked. Strange. Perhaps it’s something a bit more severe than I thought. I can get a potion that should take care of this.”

He started toward the main atrium.

“I’m not sick.” She muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He turned back, cocking his head like a curious puppy, “Then what’s wrong?” He paced back to her. “You can’t possibly be this upset over the milk.” He scowled. “Honestly, I can get you more milk. There’s no need for tears.”

“It’s not the milk!” She snapped, losing all of her willpower to fight after that one sentence. “You killed my only friend. Her name was Neve.”

“You’re upset because I killed a goat?” He questioned. “I’ve killed many goats. I thought humans killed goats as well. Was this goat a cursed human? That might explain why she survived so long. Humans are naturally more resistant and the magical properties of a curse might act as a shield…” He trailed off muttering something about power levels.

“No. She was just a goat. But she was my goat!” She cried, the anger quickly fizzling down to resignation. “She was my friend for so long.”

He stopped muttering, “Hmm.” He contemplated. “A bit of an overreaction don’t you think? You said it yourself, it was just a goat.” He threw an arm over her shoulders, lounging against her nonchalantly.

“She was my friend! How would you feel if I killed your best friend?” She snapped, shoving him away with all the force she could muster in a pathetically futile attempt, pushing herself away from him instead of the intended effect.

He shrugged, glancing at her once again volcanic dress, “I haven’t got any friends, but you’re welcome to kill any of the animals in my home if it makes this little temper tantrum end.” He stood straight, “Meet me in the atrium when you’ve calmed down. That is, if you still want to learn magic. I’d nearly forgotten, I did promise I would teach you. Wear something more practical.” He waved his hand and an outfit of simple loose pants and tunic appeared draped over her shoulders for her to change into.

He could have easily transformed the dress, she was sure. He just wanted to inconvenience her.

He left her fuming in the hallway, halfway between tears and smashing everything in this gods forsaken house to pieces. After a long while of boring holes into the floor with her eyes, fuming, she decided to go back to her room to get changed. Despite hating him with every fiber of her being, she still desperately wanted to learn magic.

She flung off the gown and pulled on the new clothes. As soon as they touched her skin, they morphed from once simple beige into the same pattern the gown had been. She took a few deep breaths, guessing that he wouldn’t teach her while the outfit was still volcanic. She decided it was as good as it was gonna get when it became a nasty windstorm instead, blowing around flat leaves woven into the pattern of the fabric.

She marched with her head high to the main atrium, where he was waiting, staring out over the maze.

He turned back to face her, without her having to say a word. He looked at the dress with a blank expression as though he were trying to figure out the meaning.

She plastered on a fake, calm, smile, hoping it would fool him into believing the wind was a good thing.

He returned the smile, “What sort of magic would you like to learn first?” he questioned, with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “With my breakthrough this morning, I think I’ve earned a couple of hours off to really teach you some fun stuff, as well as the more practical spells of course.”

He spread his arms as though he were about to offer her a hug, but instead he shrugged off his coat and kicked it to the side of the room, exposing that his arms, shoulders and parts of his chest were covered in dozens and dozens of tiny runic circles. It almost made his arms look like octopus tentacles.

“I’m partial to Runebinds myself, they make casting simple spells much faster, you don’t have to muck around with wands, words, or ingredients. Though they are rather permanent, so perhaps you’d rather start with basic wand magic?” He held out his hand to her and a shimmering glass wand appeared in it.

She crossed over, “I’d rather not commit to any particular Runebinds just yet.” She took the wand and the shimmering faded quite significantly, but not entirely. She knew plenty about Runebinds and only the most dedicated spell casters committed to them, and even then they only had a few, extremely useful and commonly used spells. Never did anyone have anywhere near as many as Zaramir had.

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“Completely understandable. I’m sure you’d like to find your specialty before anything so permanent. Would you like to start with practical magic or something a bit more fun?” His lips twisted into an impish smile.

“Maybe I should start with the protection spell you talked about yesterday.”

The disappointment on his face made her feel a slight bit less angry and almost a bit gleefully smug that she managed to cause some reaction other than casual indifference in him, even though it was fleeting.

A pleasant smile quickly returned to his face, “Yes, I do suppose that would be a good idea, since you also have work you’ll have to do.” He circled her, examining her. “Stand up straighter and angle your body sideways. Be parallel with the wand to minimize the surface area of your body if the spell were to backfire.” He slid his hands down her arms gently turning her body. “This is a general rule, but not terribly detrimental for this spell.”

He stood behind her and guided her hand by the wrist to be close to her chest, the wand pointing up, but keeping it away from her face, as though she were holding an imaginary parasol.

“You won’t have to worry about that as much, since the spell, should it backfire, will shoot down and scorch the floor,” He nudged her feet into a wider stance with his own making her wobble slightly before catching her balance, “Watch your toes and make sure the hilt of the wand isn’t aiming at them. That’s a good way to lose some appendages.”

He grabbed her other hand and placed it over the hand holding the wand, “Most protection spells have some level of kickback and I wouldn’t want you to drop it mid-spell. That could be disastrous. So for now, two hands.”

The Faedemon circled around to the front of her again, “Now the spell itself is very, very easy. It doesn't even need words, just a thought of safety. Just picture the safest place you know and move the wand like this.”

He held his hands in fists extended in front of his own chest, as though he were holding a wand of his own, and mimicked her stance. He drew a pattern in front of himself with his fists before moving the imaginary wand swiftly upward. “Now mirror me and try it for yourself. Just be sure to focus on the safe place. The stronger the thought, the stronger the spell. This is probably the simplest form of spell there is.” He held his hands in front of himself again. “Ready?”

Corabelle nodded nervously, bringing to the front of her mind her cottage, under her blanket of leaves, one of the only safe places she could remember.

He began the pattern again and she copied him, imagining bundling herself up against the storms. Her thought faltered with a sudden spark of fear as it occurred to her that she was standing across from the cause of those storms. Suddenly pain shot through her arms like her bones were trying to escape her skin. The wand slipped from her hands.

Zaramir’s eyes widened as he swiftly snatched the wand from the air with one hand in a desperate attempt to divert the oncoming blast and was launched backward into the wall as a flash of red light erupted from it straight into his chest.

Corabelle shrieked, frozen in place for a moment before he sat up from his slumped position against the far wall, “And that--” He wheezed with a shuttering cough, catching his breath as he slowly righted himself. “Is why you don’t let go of a wand.”

“What happened?” She squeaked.

“That depends,” He stood up, rubbing his chest which was already bruising slightly but, miraculously, nothing else was wrong, “Why did you drop the wand? The kickback shouldn’t have come until the spell was completed.”

“I--” She stuttered, shaking from the sudden explosion. “I got scared.”

He huffed, offering her the wand again with a scowl, “Well that explains it! You can never allow yourself to be scared while casting this kind of protection spell! It will attack you and then when you drop the wand it’ll do this!” He gestured to his chest indignantly. “Try again and for the love of Fae don’t you dare get scared again!” He shoved the wand forcefully into her palm. He re-assumed the stance for her to mirror and they started again.

This time Corabelle focused on something else, an old memory. She was very young and outside there was a battle between a mad mage and his former House. Her mother had made her a blanket and her grandmother had told her it was made of a Moonsheep’s wool and no magic could enter, no matter what. Though she had been old enough to know there was no such thing as Moonsheep, she never doubted that the blanket was magical and would protect her. No matter what, her grandmother would never let anything hurt her. That was the memory she focused on and it didn’t waver. No fear broke through. In her mind that blanket could protect her from even the Faedemon before her.

They reached the end of the spell and she aimed the wand high, there was a loud, low sound like thunder and suddenly she was in what looked like a bubble. A bubble that surrounded her, before slowly drawing in. She should have been afraid of the crushing buble and suffocating air but instead it felt just like that blanket had, secure and comforting. It clung to her body before disappearing into her.

Zaramir beamed, “Now that’s how you cast a protection spell! Wonderful work, Miss Cora! Shall we test it?” A small dagger appeared in his hand.

She shied away, “Um, I don’t think--” Before she had a chance to finish her though it was already driving toward her stomach. She cowered, squeezing her eyes shut, expecting pain, but she felt nothing. She just heard a loud metallic shatter.

She dared to pry open one eye, then the other, to find Zaramir plucking pieces of shattered metal from his arms, “You did a fantastic job!” He praised as he casually pulled out the metal pieces, the wounds quickly healing, no blood remaining on the shards and only small trickles of dark blood laced his arms, “Granted, I probably should have started with a non-enchanted blade, but there’s no better test than to see if it fairs against magic! That will be more than sufficient to deal with the animals I have... expect maybe one. How would you feel about me testing it against Dragonflame?”

“No thank you!” She said quickly this time, eyes darting around, expecting a dragon to appear in the room suddenly.

He shrugged, “That spell is rarely strong enough anyway. Just stay away from the back of the beast room and you’ll be fine.” He pulled the last shard of metal from his arm, and as he dropped it, the dagger reformed then vanished. “What next? A cleaning spell or perhaps a Minor Life spell for gardening?”

“Aren’t life spells Necromancy?” She questioned uncomfortably.

“You've studied spell theory!” He beamed. “Technically, yes, they are in the school of Necromancy but a Minor Life spell won’t revive anything with more of a spirit than an insect. But it works marvelously well on plants. So it’s fantastic for gardening. I understand the stigma behind necromancy, it can be nasty business if you get to the more advanced spells. I even tend to avoid the more advanced stuff myself, but a Minor Life spell, even going as high as a Lesser life spell for small creatures, won’t cause much harm. Besides, the cost of plant life is minuscule. Just a drop of blood, any blood, will do.” He explained, wiping a drop of blood from his arm, from where there had once been a shard of dagger, as if to illustrate. He glanced at his arms and with a swipe of his hand, the remaining blood vanished from them.

“I’d like to avoid Necromancy.” she told him, as she watched him smear the blood left on his hand onto the side of his pants.

“Understandable. For new users, Necromancy is a weary endeavor. Perhaps another day. So that cleaning spell then? Then maybe a simple levitation spell to avoid heavy lifting?”

She agreed and they spent the next few hours going over a handful of practical spells: cleaning, levitation, illumination, duplication, and a handful of cooking spells. The cooking spells Corabella was less than good at, every small cake she tried to form from the ingredients placed before her became a burnt, blackened, and bubbling mess.

In the middle of trying to teach her a small portal spell which she could use to retrieve ingredients from the garden and other nearby places, Zaramir stopped suddenly and looked toward the hallway with his lab with startlingly glassy eyes, “I’m afraid these lessons will have to wait. I must get back to my work.” He muttered dazedly. “Keep practicing if you’d like or you can get started on your own work…” He trailed off and headed down the hall as if in a trance.

Very little was known about Faedemons as a whole, but Corabelle knew everything there was to be known about them. She had to, to even be considered to join a House of Magic. They had little more free will than a stone golem when their master called. That’s what she suspected had just happened. Few had ever seen it in person, she almost felt bad for him. Stone golems had no brain or true spirit, they would be nothing without orders. Zaramir’s mind and body could be torn away from his control at any moment. It was sort of tragic if she really thought about it.

She scowled at her own thoughts. She didn't want to feel sorry for him. Faedemons were wicked. Even without orders, she knew they would raze entire villages for the fun of it. This one killed her closest friend. Faedemons didn't deserve her pity.

She looked down at the wand in her hand. She’d done what she thought was impossible today because of him. He was the only one to offer her a real chance to learn magic. Maybe he was doing it because it was practical, maybe because her ineptitude was entertaining, or, there was a small chance, he was just offering her a kindness. At least he hadn't killed and eaten her in her own home. That was honestly more than she would have ever expected from a Faedemon before she met him.

Fae demons were evil, but this one wasn’t the worst.

She sighed, annoyed at herself for remaining to feel sorry for him. She considered practicing her magic more but with Zaramir gone, she had no way of knowing what went wrong if her spell should fail. So, instead of attempting the portal spell or cooking spells again, she elected to get started on the work she promised to do.