Magic changed you. Over the countless eons since people had began consciously casting spells, humanity had splintered into hundreds of slightly varying species. The mischief-witches of old had become goblins; the Forgivers had turned into fey; and the light-wielders of the Silent Peaks had grown into elves. In typical city-boy fashion, the Silent Parliament declared that the goblins and the fey and everyone who wasn't from the Silent Peaks were grotesque monsters, while the elves of the Silent Peaks were unchangeable perfection that the entire world should strive to emulate. Goblins felt nothing but impulses for mischief; fey would let even the vilest of criminals run free; but alone amongst the varied subspecies of humanity, only the elves felt constant, pure, transcendent joy.

As the only student at the Silent Academy who had actually seen a goblin for myself, I didn't agree—but I'd gotten kicked out of class for running my mouth about it, so I didn't see any point in causing trouble.

Trouble always found me instead.

"Hey there, goblin-fucker," a voice called from behind me. I was trying to study—if I lost my place at the Academy, I lost my source of food and shelter—but the unused classroom I was using was a public space, and there was nothing stopping my classmates from heckling me as they passed by. I turned around; an unfortunately-familiar elf was lounging in the doorway, this week's girlfriend tucked under his arm. The signature halo of an elf blazed around his head, feeding off his barely-restrained glee at seeing me cornered and alone.

"Iola," I said, carefully tucking my notebook into my pocket, then turned towards the girl Iola was holding onto. "I don't think we've met," I said.

The girl blinked, surprised, then shyly smiled. "I'm Lucet—"

"Oi!" Iola let go of Lucet, swaggering towards me. I ignored him, waggling my eyebrows at Lucet instead. "I was talking to you, goblin-fucker."

"I don't see anyone by that name around here," I mildly said. I paused, then deliberately turned towards Iola and wrinkled my nose. "I do smell him, though."

Lucet giggled as Iola's elven halo flickered, irritation momentarily tainting his schadenfreude. "Stay away from my girlfriend, you Redlands freak."

"I would, but you've been dumped by so many of them. I can hardly cross the main lawn without tripping over—" I don't know what self-destructive instinct led me to keep talking when the flash of anger in Iola's eyes ignited, but I knew I'd struck a nerve by the way Lucet flinched. Iola surged forwards, a savage joy stoking his elven glow to life as he surged forwards and slammed me against the wall, forearm pressed against my throat like a steel bar.

"You know," Iola said, a drawling grin on his face, "it's not too hard to make a goblin. Just gotta pump you up with the right emotions for long enough. Would you like that? Huh? Want me to make you into one of those green-skinned freaks?"

Iola's eyes bulged with sadistic happiness, and a bolt of insight struck me like a hailstone in summer.

Elves felt gleeful all the time, even when they really, really shouldn't.

"Do... what you want with me," I choked out. "It can't... be worse... than what they've done... to you."

Iola's nostrils flared, pushing his forearm further into my throat, and I reached for the thorns around my soul to make my escape—

—but before I could, all at once, he let go.

He stared at me for a heartbeat, then laughed, heartily, wholesomely, and it was almost as if we were best drinking buddies and he hadn't just tried to choke me to death.

"You really are a riot, Cienne," Iola said, squeezing my shoulder. "You make me laugh."

Then he lifted his hand and turned away, whistling a happy tune as he walked down the hall.

I rubbed at my neck, fear finally overtaking the self-destructive energy that had been flowing through me. Even if I reported him to the Academy, they wouldn't try to "fix" him.

He was an elf, after all. There was no need to fix perfection.

Lucet tentatively walked up to me, then sat by my side. "Are you... are you okay? I know when he..." She shivered, then said, "I know ice helps. For after." She held out a hand, sorrow condensing into a droplet of cold, a question in her eyes.

I shook my head. "I'm used to it," I said. "I'll live."

She nodded, retracting her spell.

"I like to watch the moon," she blurted out. "At midnight. On the clock tower. It's supposed to be locked, but if you know the right spells, you can climb up anyway."

I blinked, then smiled. "That sounds lovely." I held out a hand. "Cienne."

"Lucet," she said, and shook my hand.

Then the two of us parted ways, our minds already drifting to other things. What we would eat, when we would sleep, how we would make it through the year.

We were only human, after all.