Kaelith placed Nikolai’s hand gently on the man’s pale hand, and Nikolai willed the spell to activate, forcing his fading mind to focus on that one task alone. There were a few moments of resistance, agonizing seconds where nothing seemed to happen, and then—blessedly—it clicked, and the essence began streaming into him.

  As always, direct touch was far more effective when using Essence Drain. That being said, the illusionist was already dying, so Nikolai would have to be as efficient as possible.

  As the essence streamed into him, the spell doing its work, his mind began to wander despite himself. He felt dirty for doing what he was doing. It was necessary for his own survival, sure—but he had to wonder how much his own soul had already been corrupted if he no longer even hesitated.

  Kaelith hovered over him worriedly, while Lurk guarded them both, his massive hammer clasped in both hands.

  Nikolai couldn’t see her face, but through their connection he sensed how distressed she was.

  He guided the essence inside of himself carefully. Often, he simply absorbed it and let it do as it pleased, but that wouldn’t suffice this time. He needed to fix himself, and while the essence would not do that on its own, it would hopefully keep him alive long enough to heal himself properly.

  As his mind began to clear, the extent of the damage inside him became disastrously obvious—torn organs, punctured lung… It was pretty fucking bad. With time, he was sure he could fix himself, but he wasn’t sure he would be given enough of it.

  He placed his violently shaking free hand on his chest, then cast Healing Grace and kept the spell going. He continued channeling mana into it, focusing the healing into pure damage control. He stopped the critical bleeding first, then patched up his lungs well enough to allow him to breathe again—albeit with considerable effort and pain.

  Kaelith stirred but didn’t disturb him. More people were arriving at the scene of the battle, and time was not exactly on their side, which was when Sevrin appeared from nowhere.

  His expression darkened immediately when he saw the state of Nikolai, even going so far as to bare his teeth like a predator. His eyes snapped to the now grey-skinned illusionist, then back to Nikolai.

  “Young master, with your permission, I will take you to your mentor.”

  Nikolai locked eyes through the mask with the fae butler, but instead of wasting energy on speech, he simply gave the smallest nod.

  Kaelith began to protest—that he wasn’t ready to be moved—but Sevrin cut her off curtly.

  “Miss Kaelith, this is too public. We need to move him. Now.”

  Kaelith hissed in frustration but nodded sharply. “I will create some noise then. Grab their attention.”

  Sevrin nodded in approval but wasted no time otherwise. With surprising gentleness, he picked up Nikolai as easily as one would a young child. Then, with barely any jolting at all, he set off at breakneck speed down a side alley.

  Nikolai didn’t get to see Kaelith’s distraction, but given the anger and frustration he sensed from her, it likely wasn’t going to be subtle.

  Sevrin leapt with shocking grace, landing on a nearby rooftop with barely a sound before launching forward again. Again and again, Sevrin’s prodigious strength and balance carried them from rooftop to rooftop, nearly flying across the city. Yet it was such a smooth ride for Nikolai that he was able to focus on his healing without interruption.

  The bleeding was mostly under control at that point, but he had to keep a constant stream of Healing Grace flowing, or it would reopen. He simply didn’t have enough mastery to fix everything at once, and no matter where his senses traveled inside himself, there was more damage to be mended.

  Sevrin glanced down at him as he ran.

  “If you survive this, we will have words later, young master…” he said, his tone tight with barely restrained anger.

  Nikolai managed a weak chuckle, his voice nearly lost in the wind rushing past them. “I was foolish… Sorry, Sevrin…”

  The butler scoffed. “Foolish does not quite cover it, I’m afraid. Also, do not apologize to your servants, young master. I appreciate the sentiment, but fae nobles do not apologize to their lessers.”

  Nikolai scowled, he had plenty to say about that—but decided it would be a conversation for later.

  The hospitarium was in sight.

  Sevrin crossed the large square like a shadow, unseen and unheard in the dark. He dropped into one of the gardens and placed Nikolai gently on the ground.

  “Do not move, young master. I will return immediately.”

  He was already gone before the final word finished echoing.

  Lying there, Nikolai stared up at the starry sky above him. Inside the hospitarium grounds, shielded by thick stone walls from the chaos outside, it was quiet.

  A gentle breeze touched his bare skin where his clothing had been torn to ribbons. The cool air soothed the myriad cuts and bruises covering him.

  He found a strange measure of peace then—a quiet solemnity regarding his situation.

  How had it come to this?

  No—that wasn’t the right question. He knew how. He had taken those steps himself.

  But now, in the quiet, he wondered whether he had been entirely in his right mind.

  Even now, he didn’t regret anything—not even the objectively heinous shit he had done over the last day or so. That realization unsettled him.

  Was it normal for someone to change this much, this quickly?

  He had heard soldiers grew numb to death after a while. Some did, at least. Others broke beneath it.

  Why was he so calm?

  He wasn’t even running Soothe right now, and yet his mind was clear. Almost disturbingly clear. No guilt. No hesitation.

  He needed to know more. Needed to ask someone.

  Was his magic changing him? Or had he always possessed the potential to be this ruthless?

  He wasn’t sure—and the thought was more than a little frightening.

  If the magic was changing him, he didn’t like that. But if it wasn’t… then what did that say about him?

  Perhaps it was his fae side.

  He couldn’t tell.

  If the changes were happening so subtly that he couldn’t perceive them himself, would his family even recognize him if he ever managed to return to Earth?

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Would he recognize himself?

  The thoughts circled endlessly as minutes passed.

  They were interrupted by the sound of running footsteps—several of them.

  The first face to appear above him was Lazgrim’s, his stern dwarf mentor looking genuinely worried. Then Moulin’s voice snapped sharply:

  “Make space! Let me see him!”

  Furry hands landed on his exposed chest, and an animalistic hiss escaped her throat.

  “You’ve done it now, dear… Lazgrim, we will need to work together! Daughter, you will make absolutely certain no one enters this garden. No eyes, no ears, no nothing. Is that understood!?”

  Nikolai heard Simi agree firmly, then felt magic rush into him from two separate sources.

  Lazgrim worked with a grim expression. “Good job staying alive, lad…” he muttered under his breath.

  Sevrin appeared again, his face once more perfectly composed. He crouched carefully beside Nikolai, ensuring he did not interfere with the healers, and gently lifted the mask from his face.

  When Lazgrim’s eyes locked with Nikolai’s, they widened slightly.

  “What is happening to you, lad…” he whispered.

  “Never mind that! Focus on your task, child!” Moulin snapped.

  Lazgrim’s immediate look of chastened obedience might have made Nikolai laugh—if he weren’t fading fast.

  Now that he could let go…

  Now that he felt reasonably certain he was safe…

  His consciousness began to slip.

  He smiled faintly.

  Were his teeth just slightly more pointed?

  “Thank you…”

  The words carried the last of his willpower.

  Darkness claimed him.

  Had he remained conscious, he would have heard a rare string of harsh curses from Moulin—an occurrence so uncommon it would have shocked most who knew her.

  Nikolai’s eyes flickered open slowly.

  His mind was foggy, and a dull ache suffused his entire body.

  He groaned softly and squinted against the light in the room.

  He tried to move.

  Every muscle and bone screamed in protest.

  Perhaps… in a few minutes.

  He felt someone holding his hand.

  Small. Slightly cool. Soft.

  Comforting.

  He felt the bond between them—officially master and servant, but so much more to him than that. It was intimate in a way nothing else had ever been. Not romantic necessarily—deeper. A connection that was absolute. Unbreakable.

  He turned his head slowly.

  Kaelith stirred from sleep.

  She was seated beside him, her head resting on the edge of the bed.

  He smiled faintly and squeezed her hand.

  Then she sat bolt upright.

  There was a bit of drool on her chin, but her eyes found his immediately, and tears began welling up within them.

  “Nikolai…” she whispered.

  “I’m fine… I think,” he rasped.

  She had water in her hand almost instantly. She gently lifted his head and helped him drink. It hurt—but the cold liquid sliding down his throat was bliss.

  “Thanks…” he murmured more clearly this time.

  She smiled shakily. “How do you feel?”

  He gave her a wry look. “Like shit, honestly.”

  She laughed weakly. “Honestly, you deserve it for what you put us through. We weren’t sure you would wake up at all…”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It was that close?”

  “Nikolai… you barely had anything functioning inside you when you arrived. It’s a miracle you survived at all.”

  He found her hand again, and she clutched it tightly.

  “I might have overestimated myself slightly.”

  “You think!?” she snapped, looking annoyed, relieved, and emotional all at once. “I only managed to take that bastard down because he was distracted with you, and I am a lot stronger than you! Sevrin doesn’t show it, but I am pretty sure he is furious with you. And your mentors? They are absolutely going to throttle you once it won’t kill you.”

  Nikolai chuckled weakly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. How long was I out?”

  She counted silently for a moment. “Two weeks. Give or take a day. I’ve barely left this room.”

  He groaned. “Two weeks!? Fucking hell… I suppose the hospitarium is still standing, so the whole city didn’t burn down at least.”

  Kaelith grinned. “Might as well have. From what I’ve heard, it’s absolute chaos among the nobles and the city government. The guild took a lot of abuse at first, but once the evidence was made public, riots began breaking out.”

  Nikolai winced. “We kicked the hornet’s nest pretty hard, didn’t we?”

  “That is putting it lightly,” she replied. “Nocturne’s involvement wasn’t made public, but everyone knows. The people we saved didn’t hold back, and rumors are running wild. Don’t worry, though—for now, at least, no one has connected the dots. Or perhaps those who have are choosing not to say anything. Sevrin reported that many people—especially among those we saved—are avid supporters.”

  Nikolai slowly sat up with her help. It still hurt, but he was beginning to tolerate it slightly better.

  “Things are getting a bit out of hand… We should probably get out of here sooner rather than later.”

  She nodded. “We should. But not leaving immediately also disperses suspicion.”

  “I almost died,” he said flatly.

  “As far as anyone knows,” she replied calmly, “Moulin took you to train. It’s accepted. Though… Archmage Vitzer will want to speak with you.”

  He closed his eyes as a headache formed behind them. “I really don’t want to deal with that right now…”

  Sevrin appeared in the room.

  Kaelith jumped slightly.

  “Neither shall you have to, young master. You need to recover. Your body has gone through more than it should in such a short time.”

  Nikolai narrowed his eyes. “Hold on. What do you mean by that? Also… thank you. Both of you. That should have been the first thing I said.”

  Sevrin bowed more deeply. Kaelith smiled softly. “Anytime, Nikolai. I’m still far behind on that account.”

  Sevrin continued, “The severe trauma, the heavy use of essence infusion, and your accelerated growth have sped up your transformation. Your fae blood is strengthening—and it is creating internal upheaval.”

  Nikolai blinked. “You’re joking… So what, I became less human again!?”

  Sevrin smiled faintly. “As you should.”

  Nikolai gave him a dirty look before sighing. “No putting that cat back in the bag, I suppose… What changed specifically?”

  A mirror appeared in Sevrin’s hand.

  Nikolai hesitated. “That bad?”

  Kaelith grinned. “Oh, it isn’t bad. You might disagree—but I’m honestly struggling not to stare.”

  He looked.

  It was still him.

  Mostly.

  But sharper.

  More refined.

  His ears were more pointed.

  His eyes—

  His pupils were more vertical.

  The shape slightly narrower. More feline.

  And the color—

  Grey.

  A vibrant, luminous grey.

  The blue was barely visible beneath it now.

  “I barely look human anymore…” he whispered. “How the hell am I supposed to walk around in public like this?”

  Kaelith squeezed his hand. “It isn’t as bad as you think. This region is mostly human, yes, but once we leave, you’ll see people come in many shapes and sizes. Power changes appearances. Sometimes subtly. Sometimes not. You’ll stand out here, you’re kind of pretty after all, but not overly so.”

  Sevrin smiled approvingly. “You are a candidate for becoming a prince, young master. You are simply beginning to look the part.”

  Nikolai lowered the mirror and exhaled slowly.

  “Okay… I’ll need time to...” he trailed off.

  Kaelith smiled. “First you eat. Then you recover. Then we tie up loose ends, say our goodbyes to Lazgrim, and leave this fucking city.”

  “Might as well use the time to plan,” Nikolai muttered.

  Kaelith grinned wickedly. “We could always find Keanton and rip his guts out. He will try to come after us—or rather after Nocturne.”

  Nikolai shrugged faintly. “Wouldn’t mind seeing him in a slave collar. Although…”

  He paused.

  “I wouldn’t mind going adventuring for a bit. Fighting monsters. Saving lives. Getting stronger. Going after Keanton immediately might not be wise. He’s likely far away and well protected by now.”

  Kaelith pouted. It was distractingly cute.

  “I suppose you have a point…”

  Sevrin shrugged. “Keanton is inconsequential. What matters is your growth.”

  “Ten years…” Nikolai murmured. “Ten years until the trial. I need to become strong enough to survive it. That has to be the main objective.”

  Sevrin nodded solemnly.

  Kaelith shrugged with a wide grin.

  “No reason we can’t have fun in the meantime though.”