Never in her wildest dreams did she expect Daphne Greenglade to be her patron. She was under no illusions of her own importance, and even the hystors had not wanted to keep her on for another year. Her only hope had been to find service and sponsorship with one of the many aristocrats that attended the Middle School, a knight or a mage-at-arms perhaps.

“Gonna have to give them more next time. Body builds up a, uh, defense against the pill with use,” Broken Nose said. He had the look of a bandit, and Daphne’s maid whispered as much about him.

Give them more? she wondered. After Lady Daphne had given her so much? Did she dare even accept? Her mistress had even styled her with a new name, for she was Tracey now and no one else. Lady Daphne was never one to do anything without reason, and so Tracey suspected, though could not be sure, that it was a calculated move to make Tracey more palatable to the Everbloom aristocracy. After all, many in the school judged her for being closer to a Dunelander than a Bloomling.

“You agree then?” Daphne asked.

“Up to you, innit?” Broken Nose answered. “Doesn’t matter if I agree.”

Though Tracey’s eyes remained shut, she thought she could make out the upturned curve of her lips. “Make a note,” Daphne said, to Maid presumably, “a whole pill the next time, if needed.”

An inexplicable warmth seized her. Lady Daphne had plucked her out of the crowd, from the many, many men and women who would have killed to serve her and her kin. If that were it, Tracey would be grateful, but now she was being taught a signature spell alongside Lord Blaise, and there was talk of making her oathsworn. Her! What had she done to deserve such an outpouring of trust?

Nothing, but Tracey vowed before the Pantheon and the Divine Syngian that she would be worthy one day.

“Is it wise to make a habit out of this, my lady?” Maid asked.

“Never let it be said that I did not meet my junior’s needs,” Daphne said.

“Gonna be honest, this ain’t really a need,” Broken Nose said.

“Let me worry about what is and isn’t a need,” Daphne said. “You—”

You have eyes, but still cannot see. It was her mistress’ common refrain, and Tracey felt she was close to understanding it. There was a … flow, an energy to everything. It rang in her ears like the thrumming of a red string, and she was fairly sure it wasn’t just Lady Daphne’s portrait of Syla Stormsong playing her harp. That melody was closer to purple than red. No, the humming she heard came from elsewhere, nowhere, everywhere. When she listened to it, it felt like … like…

Down was up, and up was right. There was no way else to describe her floating, weightless sensation.

“I don’t like this,” Blaise murmured besides her. She could taste him squirming, the air thickening with salt from his sweat.

“You need to relax,” Daphne said. “Release your distractions. Focus on your breathing.”

Tracey breathed in, feeling the flow drawn in, but as she tried to hold her breathing, the flow escaped her anyways.

Never try to hold it, she remembered. If you try to hold it, you will lose it. It was easier said than done, and went against Tracey’s every instinct, but she had gotten this far by trusting Lady Daphne. Had her advice ever failed her? Sure her mistress phrased things weirdly at times, but she never did or said anything carelessly. Like any divination, it required proper interpretation.

Gonna have to think about it to get it, as her mother used to say.

“Run far and run fast!” would have been the advice of many people Tracey knew if they heard half the things Daphne had said, especially about aphrodisiacs. But many people spoke without thinking, and considering only the surface of things. She still remembered the events of last year.

Around that time, some unspoken tragedy had befallen Lady Daphne. The hystors had clamped down on any talk about it, but that had not stopped the rumors from making their rounds around the school. If even Tracey had heard about it, then everyone had heard about it, and they did not paint a pleasant picture. With how Daphne spoke, it only proved the truth of those tales. She was attacked, assaulted in some way.

And that Lady Daphne had chosen not to hide for the rest of her days in the Green Glade, but returned proud as ever … well, how could Tracey not respect her for that? She’d been kidnapped too just before the school term began. In that light, it only made sense why her mistress had changed so much in so little time. Why she now sought out the iron fist where before she’d been content to play the games of the velvet glove.

Desert and dunes materialized before her eyes. It was a land she’d only heard about, a land many here thought she hailed from. The sands of the Dunelands and the black soil of the Great Kyroh River, which fed into the Great Oasis. It was from this that most of the Everbloom’s vast river network sourced its waters from, and allowed the region its bountiful harvests.

“You.”

Tracey blinked, looked at herself that was not her, dripping with sand.

“Never did I think you would set out on this path,” Not Her said. “Not that you’re awake yet, but it’s the first step in a long journey.”

“Gonna be tough,” Another Her made of marble said, the sands flying off of her as time flowed in reverse.

“Make you wanna kill yourself,” Not Her said.

“You sure you wanna to do this?” Another Her asked. At Tracey’s nod, the two of them spoke as one.

“Cry me a river, but there’s no going back now. Final chance to turn back.”

“Never,” Tracey said with a conviction she’d never felt before. The sun dimmed, the stars fell. The humming came back, faint, yet furious.

“Gonna need more of those pills,” Not Her said, as the wind howled and took large bites out of her sand form.

“Say, if you ever get the chance, protect her will you?” Another Her said as she melted into a black pool.

Goodbye. The word was stuck in her throat, and they were gone before she could say it. Still, they were her, so were they ever really gone?

Tracey blinked, finding her eyes wide open and her throat dry. She blinked a few more times as the hum became fainter and fainter.

“Have some water,” Daphne said as Maid stepped forward to hand her a glass. With an exertion of will from Maid, little ice cubes formed in the water. “How was it?”

“Odd,” Tracey murmured.

“That means it worked right,” Daphne said.

“I don’t feel any different right now,” Tracey admitted.

Daphne laughed, and what a pleasant sound that was. “Of course not. Did you think it would really be so easy?” she asked, evidently amused. “Everything in the universe is simple, but even the simplest things are hard. This trip was to get you used to the sensations, but I never expected you to awaken from one half-dose.”

“You mean we’re going to have to do that again?” Blaise’s dry voice cracked up besides her.

“Many times most likely, unless you’re a genius among geniuses,” Daphne said. “My knowledge of cultivation was already very deep when I attempted this, but your foundations aren’t quite so solid yet.”

“Is there a trick to it?” Blaise asked.

Daphne pondered on his question for a long while. “If I had to put it into words … you have to let go of distractions without concentrating. You must grasp the flow without grasping.”

Blaise frowned at her.

Not for the first time, Tracey found herself wondering how Lady Daphne had stumbled onto this knowledge, or if she’s simply invented it all. If she had, she’d be a genius on the level of the Divine Syngian. Athenaeum graduates spent their whole lives trying to come up with new spells, and many of them failed. Somehow, her mistress had succeeded after applying herself for a few short months.

As she opened her mouth, Tracey frowned, staring at what she assumed was a cat sitting outside the window’s ledge. Only it was green and covered with short, hair-like barbs that made it about as huggable as an uncut pineapple. Maybe the drugs hadn’t quite left her system entirely?

“Is that cat green?” Daphne asked, following Tracey’s eyes and peering at the creature outside.

So it wasn’t just her. The cat really was green.

“Never seen a catcus before?” Blaise asked. “It’s a cat, and like all other cats, a bit of a prick.”

“Gonna be honest,” Broken Nose said, “that thing is kinda freaky.”

“Tell that to Lord Eminent Morgan,” Blaise said with a snort. “He’s quite fond of the creatures.”

“A thing like that? Really?” Broken Nose said.

“Lie down,” Daphne ordered, as if expecting the creature to understand her through the glass. Strangely enough, it did as she said. “This spirit animal stumbling upon us is fortuitous.”

“...and that means what?” Blaise asked as she opened the window. “You’re going to keep it? Daphne, look at the thing. It’ll hurt you with a touch.” The catcus meowed, and retracted its spines into its body.

“Hurt me?” Daphne asked. “This cute thing? You must be joking. You said our lord keeps them as pets, so surely they can be tamed.”

“You really are going to keep it,” Blaise said, more to himself than anyone else. The groan that followed was audible and politely ignored as Daphne scooped the catcus into her arms.