“Balance! Keep your legs firmly on the ground!”

“But how am I supposed to defend without moving?”

“The point of this form is to never give your opponent ground. You can move in your place, shift and dodge, but never take a step back. Like an ancient tree you must be planted in that place.”

“That’s impossible,” Grey scowled, no longer so certain it had been a good idea to come and learn from the shaper.

He tried to keep those doubts to himself but Iago wasn’t fooled. His charge was getting impatient, wanting to learn the complicated form in a day. “Let’s take a break now.”

“Break? But we just started!”

“Come, indulge me for a moment. I want to show you something.”

The young adult, nothing more than a mere boy, grumbled at such a request but sheathed his sword and looked at him, arms crossed. Iago motioned northwards and set out in an unhurried pace. It had been so long since the last time he’d been in there.

Would he still remember the path? How could he forget?

A decade spent walking there everyday. Sun or rain, he was right on time every session.

Iago sifted through his memories but couldn’t find a single occasion he’d skipped the lessons. At the time he had been foolish enough to believe they were worth something. Maybe they were, just not what he had accredited to them.

“Where are we going?” Grey asked, intrigued against himself. They were passing crumbled remains of middle class’ homes, swiftly aiming for the richer neighbourhoods.

“You’ll see.”

There was still plenty of time left till they would reach their destination. The capital had been huge in its glory days and even though the place was on this side of the city, a two hour march was necessary. Time that could be spent training the youth, but Iago hoped this would serve as a better encouragement than his words ever could.

After an hour familiar places scoured Iago’s sight. He’d seen destruction, hadn’t expected anything else but the toppled mansions, scorched gardens and torn gates brought a strange sorrow to his heart. This had been his prison, the horror of his childhood and yet the lashed streets made him wince.

He brushed his fingers against a large boulder fallen off of the watchtower up ahead. Dust smeared his finger tips and he remembered being brought up a thousand stairs to the top to meet the guards. Terror had closed upon him, turning his walk into a crawl but to his utter disbelief they had dismissed his captor’s case as stupid, letting him go but not before giving him two chocolate cookies. It hadn’t been the first time he’d eaten them but never before or since had they tasted so sweet.

At least those guards wouldn’t have been in the tower, having retired long ago.

Their sons and daughters would have been guarding instead.

The thought brought a halt to his steps, and he turned to look back at the tower he just passed. Or the ruins of it. Only the ground floor was left, and that was open roofed with two side walls missing. Nothing could have survived inside.

“Is this it?” Grey asked with hesitation. He stared at the remnants of buildings, not certain which one of them was supposed to be special.

“No, not yet,” Iago answered with a shake of his head. He turned away from the tower, pushing the anger away. “We’re almost there, just a bit longer.”

“What is it, anyway?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see.”

By the time they reached their destination, sun was preparing to set. It’s reddish glow painted the ruins in crimson.

Scrambling over the boulders littering the street, Iago led them through broken gates and into a wide field. To the right, hard ground was lashed, black mouths gaping hungrily. To the left, a large building stood. Most of it had been torn to pieces but the west part remained mostly in-tact. The lower levels, at least.

Iago stepped inside, a shadow of a smile on his face. He had been right, that place wouldn’t fall even if the whole world got destroyed. A childish fancy yet here it was, correct.

“What is this place?” Grey asked, coming up close behind Iago.

“Right here,” Iago said without answering and pointed them through a narrow passage, made so by the fallen ceiling.

Upon reaching the room, Iago took a step to the side and let the boy in first. His charge stared, wonder written clear on his starry-eyed face. “Is this what I think this is?”

Iago nodded, shifting his eyes to take in the whole room. It had changed through the years but not much. Same old training dummies - now fallen everywhere - took up the majority of the room. Couple were torn apart, pieces lying like an accusation to their killers.

In the far corner, wooden blades had been stacked in crates. These had burst open, littering the room with wooden sticks. To their left, much more dangerous ones lay scattered. Iron swords, simple in design, blunted for training but no less deadly. There had always been plenty of injuries in the school, and even deaths from time to time. They were playing with weapons, it was expected.

With trembling fingers Grey picked up one of the metal swords, running his hands over the centre of the blade. “Nobles learnt with these, hadn’t they?”

“Nobles and those who had enough money. Foreigners often enrolled to learn from the best as they put it.”

He shifted his gaze to the empty walls; many gifts had been showered on this school, but the owner, a sour old man, had sold them all and bought more training gear. His two sons that inherited had kept to his teachings and used on duelling, paying no attention to blatant offers of power or wealth for giving a good review.

“Was it?”

“What?”

“Was it the best?”

Iago shrugged. “That’s what everyone said. Empire’s duellists were renowned over the whole world, and those that received education here rose quickly in the world outside. Few finished this school, but those who did were something else. None were their equal in skill.”

The boy hefted the sword higher, pointing it at the sky. He then widened his stance and fell into a form Iago had shown him with the sword’s length before him, edge to the opponent. From there he slowly moved into the next form, attacking, then defending, blocking, slashing.

They were all wrong, a soft touch would imbalance him or the impact of clashing swords would push him to lose his balance but Iago smiled. He walked closer, taking the boy’s arm and raising it higher, kicking the leg softly to move it closer to the other. “Try now.”

Days passed until Grey managed to receive a growled ‘Close’ but his determination never wavered. After having seen the legendary duellist school, he was ready for anything. Who would have thought that Iago had been present at that school! Even if only seeing, he was probably much better than Commander.

Everyone knew that school was on a level of its own.

But Grey didn’t tell that to his friends, Alec especially. He wanted to prove them all wrong with his skills, not just words. So, when asked, he said he was practising and that’s all. They weren’t satisfied so he often left their company and sneaked into Iago’s tower and trained on the first floor.

It had become so common that he soon scavenged a sleeping bag and left it in one corner of the room. Soon it was joined by a spare change of clothes, extra armour, polishing materials.

Up above, Scorpius was having a hard time understanding what was happening. “Why is that boy swinging his sword again? Isn’t he getting sick of it?”

Iago raised his head from the box he was repairing. “Grey? He’s making up for the lack of talent with hard work. Quite admirable from one so young.”

“But he’s just swinging a stick back and forth! What mastery do you need for that?”

Iago burst out laughing at that, putting the wooden box away to cover his mouth with a hand as he chortled without end. Scorpius scowled at him but the shaper didn’t pay any mind. He laughed and laughed, brushing tears from his eyes. “Waving a stick around…” he murmured, chuckling still.

“And now you’re going to tell me it’s more than that?” Scorpius asked, shifting in his seat by the window to glower at the shaper.

“No, not at all,” Iago laughed. “You just might have the truth of it.” He then paused, tilting his head. “Though, you’d have been hanged for such an opinion in the capital.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent for some time then, both returning to their work. Iago to his repairs, and Scorpius to reading the books and making notes. He had searched earlier through the city and brought back two scrolls, and four books concerning his kind and other races.

The current one he was reading was a curious case. It was signed as memoirs of a person that had survived a month among nosferatu, pretending to be one of them. At first Scorpius had thought it would show that the two races could co-exist but it managed to portray his kind worse than most tales. Fascinating in a way, when you considered how terrible nosferatu were known to be already.

Scorpius read the book as one reads fantasy, knowing for sure it to be so. His kind never travelled on foot. That fact alone signalled the author knowing nothing about nosferatu. Why would those able to fly, traverse the land unencumbered by shifting of ground, uneven footing would trudge through hills and thick forests?

And then use a sword to threaten this tale’s hero.

That was enough. He snapped the book shut and threw it in the corner. There had to be a limit to people’s stupidity. With his speed, why would he ever need to resort to something so primitive as metal sticks?

“Something caught your fancy?”

“That was the stupidest book I’ve ever seen. How could anyone read it?” he asked, turning to see Iago still busy with the wooden box.

Upon his question, the shaper shrugged, not even raising his head from his work. “Why should they not believe it? If I saw right and that was Sir Makerey’s Journal, one of them anyway, it was quite popular in its time. Fearing shapers, neither your kind, nor other races visit cities and so the population devours any tales about them with unparalleled hunger.”

He then nodded sagely to himself and clicked the box shut. Winding the box up, Iago looked up. “It’s about time you went to visit your young friend, wouldn’t you say so?”

“Wha-?” Scorpius started but his question was drowned out by the sound originating from the box. Disbelieving he stood up and approached with wonder. A wooden box was playing music on its own, how was that even possible?

Uncertain, he reached to touch the box and the shaper handed it to him with a grin. Carefully as not to drop it, Scorpius held the box up, then to the sides to see where the sound was coming from. Something inside where Iago had been tinkering but how could whatever was there play “The Swan’s Fall”? Wasn’t it just some metal pins?

The music rose and fell, like waves against the shore. He remembered the tragic tale of a swan that fell in love with a human. It’s sorrow of them being unable to understand each other, the joy of locating a shaper and having his body changed, moments of bliss and then the horror of seeing her choose another. He was a noble, after all.

The swan then went to the old shaper, begging him to do something, return him his old body as it was what caught the girl’s attention the first time. Shaper warned him it was a fell choice but in the end acquiesced.

White as snow, elegant as only a free bird can - he returned to her, visited her in the gardens, by the pond. She pointed him to her new husband and moments later the swan’s beauty coloured crimson. It was washed soon, and the lady had a new dress of beautiful white feathers that became the envy of the ton.

Scorpius shuddered as the last low notes rung cold and lifeless in the air. He’d heard the ballad once sung by a travelling minstrel, disbelieving at the cruelty of its ending.

Iago shifted in his position, stretching his legs and yawning. “Did you know this song was made originally to teach young kids the vileness of women? That chasing of them could only lead to your downfall?”

“Who - Why would anyone need to teach such a lesson?” Scorpius asked aghast. He’d had women friends among his clan and none of them were better or worse than their male counterparts. Both of them were capable of identical levels of evil.

“Too many shaper women had appeared and the nation was close to becoming a matriarchal society. One old man couldn’t take it and cooked up this tale to make sure the next generation of boys didn’t fall for the trap and get ensnared by the opposite gender.”

Iago chuckled, massaging his eyes before standing up. “Never did he expect it’d become a national hit, bringing out the horror in most young women. It became an ultimate goal for them to become as quiet, solemn and passive as possible, like all of them were atoning for the swan’s untimely death, his tragic love.” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “I never understood how that came to be. But the tune is a powerful one. The man had missed his calling by becoming whatever he had become.”

“And this box?”

“What about it?”

“How does it play? I don’t understand…”

“Clockwork,” Iago answered, moving to the stairs. “You can have it if you want. I’m going downstairs to tell Grey to rest. That boy won’t stop until his hands fall off,” he muttered with a shake of his head and disappeared behind a bend.

Scorpius returned his gaze to the mystical box, wounding it up again to hear the melody return. It was identical to the one played before. Unbelievable. With his better hearing he could easily tell the notes apart and not one was different. How could it be so?

When the music stopped, he opened the box, hoping to find its secret there. Instead he was faced with a small piece of paper on which a note was scribbled, ‘Find the boy. His innuendos are less than obvious, and I wouldn’t put it past him to demand of me to conjure you in front of everyone. Take care of your problem.’

Take care of the problem, huh… He put the box on the table, having lost all interest in it and shifted. The paper fluttered to the ground, and he noticed a writing on the other side. ‘You can bring this as a gift if you wish.’

Shifting back, Scorpius picked up the mystical wooden box. Would the boy like it? He knew nothing of the kid. He’d saved his life but that was all. Why did the boy even want to meet him in the first place? Shouldn’t he be scared or something?

Apparently, normal logic didn’t apply to kids. He jumped on the table, careful not to scatter his writings, and finding a suitable wall ahead leapt through the window. Muscles bunched, he sailed through the night sky as if flying. It was unbelievable, this new found strength of his.

Swiftly moving from one building to another, he listened for any unnatural sounds. There was a couple occupying a second floor to his right, Alec beating the dummies in a fury up ahead. Neither interested him so he kept on moving.

There, soft footsteps. That boy was walking alone at night! Didn’t he know the dangers of such actions? He could get hurt at any moment. Humans couldn’t see in the dark! They were blind and defenceless, not that a child should be allowed to wander the ruins alone at daylight either.

Landing two paces behind the boy, he followed him for a moment. What was he planning to do?

Nothing, as it showed up. He just walked through the streets, peering into corners and entering more intact buildings. Once the moon passed its midpoint, he finally gave up and with an angry huff turned around.

Jumping back in alarm, the boy opened his mouth to scream. His voice would wake half the city so Scorpius dashed forward to silence him. Holding the boys mouth shut, he waited. “Will you keep quiet if I let you free?”

An eager nod. He relaxed his arm and took a step back. Before he could say anything more, the boy rushed forward, hugging his leg with all his strength. “You came back, you came back,” he said over and over again, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I knew it! You came back…”

Scorpius froze. What was this? What was he supposed to do now?

Pet him? Say something? Let the kid cry out whatever it was that needed crying out? He’d never encountered human children before! How was he expected to know how to act?

Screaming in his mind, Scorpius put the box down behind him and lowered himself on his haunches to be on the same level as the kid. “You waited for me, so I came.”

“Yes, yes! I waited!” the boy shouted out, wrapping himself around Scorpius’ neck. The nosferatu stayed rigid for a second, then returned the embrace, lifting the boy up.

He held him until the tears dried out, and then a bit more.

“You won’t leave me, right?” the boy suddenly asked. “Not ever?”

“I- What?” Scorpius didn’t know how to answer such a genuine request. There was no way he could promise something he couldn’t keep but those big glistening eyes weren’t giving him a choice. They required an answer, positive one, and now.

But lying wasn’t an answer. In the end it hurt more than it helped. “I’ll meet you again if you want.”

“You will?” The boy broke out in a smile, eyes shining like diamonds. “Promise! It’s a promise!”

“All right,” Scorpius agreed easily. This he could do. “But you have to promise to me to stop wandering the streets alone, okay?”

The kid gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m not afraid! Night has no terrors for me!”

“Don’t say that,” Scorpius snapped. The little human in his arms recoiled, almost pushing himself off his arms. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” he whispered, worrying he might have hurt the boy. Had he been loud enough to burst his eardrums? Was that possible? He couldn’t have been that loud, could he?

His victim started laughing, struggling to get free. Scorpius lowered him to the ground, absolutely lost now.

“You’re funny,” the boy said once he stopped laughing. “And you can go now, you must be sleepy, like all adults!”

Scorpius was in his element at night, rest was the last thing on his mind but he nodded just to have an excuse to escape this predicament. He would rather stalk in the Mistress’ manor than spend another minute with this unfathomable creature. Human kids were unnatural.

He had no idea what was running through their heads.

“Go then! And tell your friend to tell me when we can meet! Here! Understood?”

Scorpius nodded, and was off. Finally away. He was done with this. What did the kid want from him anyway? The boy must be crazy, there was no other explanation. Better go ask Iago whether he knows any remedies.

As he flew through the night, a smell of blood assaulted him. He circled, hesitating and then veered in the direction of the smell. It wouldn’t hurt to find out what happened.

Some human lay prostrate in the street. The man wasn’t dead but blood was already pooling near his head. He wouldn’t last long. It would be a waste of a life, all that precious crimson liquid. Scorpius hesitated, circling over the scene. What if he..?