I lingered by the lecture podium until the last student left. Their voices faded down the hallway. “Professor Irleophiss, I have a request,” I said, my voice echoing in the vaulted classroom.

  "Have you? Do tell." The marionette’s ivory claws clicked with excitement against his desk.

  I swallowed hard, knowing full well how important this was to me. “I would like to learn magic that can protect souls from being destroyed by a malicious force. I’m afraid of what could happen to me and the people I care about if I’m not ready for such an eventuality.”

  The room's temperature seemed to drop. The luminous amber of his eyes dimmed, narrowing into glowing slits against the artificial inlaid scales of his current puppet form.

  "Your intention is clear, but you can’t learn defensive soul magic without learning its offensive side. It’s very dangerous, forbidden magic." He bent closer. "Can you promise to never use it offensively?"

  I thought for a moment, tracing nervous patterns on my old leather satchel. The wooden floor creaked as I shifted my weight and finally answered.

  “Souls are not mine to destroy,” I finally said. My voice stayed just above a whisper but was firm with conviction. “They are precious gifts bestowed upon us by the divine. The thought of ending such brilliance twists my stomach and aches my heart. I only want to learn how to preserve souls and shield their light from being extinguished.”

  The marionette’s carved face remained impassive, but his amber eyes flickered with a glimmer of brightness for just a mere second. “Hmm. You believe you speak the truth, but human motivations are a feeble thing,” his voice reverberated, each word sending dust specks fluttering in the slanted afternoon light.

  “Today, you think that, tomorrow you think something else. You are too young to really understand what you’re asking.”

  Desperation punched through me, sharp and sudden. My pulse hammered hot and fast, my palms clammy. My mouth went dry as my thoughts scrambled for an answer. “What if…” I glanced anxiously at the empty classroom, the lonely desks, and growing shadows closing in. “What if I told you I am older than I look?”

  Professor Irleophiss's amber eyes flared with golden fire. His scaled puppet form creaked as he leaned in even closer. “Ohoho, are you about to reveal a secret? You don’t have to…” His voice fell to a whisper that somehow filled the classroom. “[Otherworlder].” The word hung in the air like icy mist. “I've already looked into your soul. However small it may be, it shines bright with a unique signature. One I’ve seen before, a few thousand years ago. Even with your past-life experiences, you are still quite young.”

  My throat closed up, a wave of humiliation and vulnerable shock crashing inside. “You… you knew?” The world tipped beneath me as shame and panic dueled inside. I’d thought my secret confession to Luciana was a triumph. But if this keeps up, soon everyone will know.

  “How do you think dragons can always spot a liar? We look directly into your soul.” His ivory claw touched my chest for emphasis. “There are those capable of deception that cannot be traced by observing either body or mind. Be it discipline… or illness of the mind, there are ways to achieve that. Soul, however, cannot be tampered with, at least not in such a way that it leave no evidence behind. It shows all.

  I slumped, disappointment settling heavily. “So, your final answer is a no?”

  “It’s a maybe.” The puppet’s shiny scales caught the afternoon light as he moved. “You are good-spirited, I admit, but you’re also desperate. People who get desperate are easy to corrupt, like dry wood catching fire.” His amber eyes watched me closely. “I’ll test you. If you pass, I’ll teach you soul magic.”

  He pressed something that resembled a button on his hip with his claw. The scales parted with a mechanical click, revealing a hidden compartment I hadn’t noticed before. From this unexpected pocket, he withdrew a mana crystal. He flicked it toward me with casual precision.

  “What is this for?” I asked, catching it. The crystal felt both cool and warm against my palm. I could sense mana emanating from within without even concentrating.

  “This opens the entrance to my chambers through the garden’s secret passage. You know the one,” he smiled. “Come midnight, I will test you then.”

  Going down the giant stone steps was much easier than climbing up. Just thinking about the return trip made my calves ache. I sighed and entered the caverns under the Academy’s gardens. The familiar smell of moss and old stone surrounded me as I passed through the hidden archway.

  My gaze drifted on its own to the spot where I’d performed the resuscitation that saved Luciana’s life all those months ago. It was just as we left it, maybe a little drier.

  A sudden gust of hot, sulfurous breath hit the back of my neck, ruffling my hair and sending a primal tremor down my spine. I spun around to find the dragon looming behind me, his massive scaled head merely an arm’s length away, amber eyes gleaming in the dim light.

  “Guuh!” I tripped backward, terror clamping my chest. My heart hammered so hard my ribs ached. “With all due respect, Professor, please don’t do that. It’s terrifying for us… tiny, fragile, easily-digested beings.”

  The dragon’s scales rippled as he leaned even closer, his breath hot and sharp. “Don’t you know, obsidian dragons are natural tricksters? Old books say we’re just angry beasts that spit acid. What nonsense.” His grin revealed rows of jagged teeth that gleamed like polished ivory daggers. Not really helping his argument. “When a lost child finds their way home by following a mesmerizing wisp, or a bandit is lured to his doom by haunting siren music, that’s us. There are no sirens in the swamps. No such thing as a wisp.”

  “Always wondered how you ended up in these sewers,” I said. My fingers traced the slick, moss-covered stalagmite. “Do they remind you of a swamp?”

  “In some ways, yes.” His massive tail curled around ancient stone pillars, the tip flicking pensively. “Less teeming with life, but surprisingly cleaner.” His amber eyes glinted with ancient cunning. “The Academy and I reached an arrangement centuries ago. They contribute exquisite trinkets to my hoard, and I indulge my whims by teaching children whenever I feel like it. In return, I remain here, a looming, menacing deterrent. My presence alone has kept them independent from the Kingdom of Sonem since before your ancestors drew breath.”

  “Huh,” I murmured, watching how the dim light caught the rainbow sheen of his scales. “I figured it was something like that.”

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed, glinting like molten amber in the dim phosphorescent light. “Well, enough chit chat. Are you prepared for your trials?” His voice rumbled through the cavern, vibrating the very stones beneath my feet.

  “As much as I can be,” I replied, swallowing hard. “What is involved?”

  “You will find out,” he said, unfurling one massive obsidian-scaled claw. The pad of his foreclaw, surprisingly warm and dry, pressed against my forehead with unexpected gentleness. “[Deep slumber.]”

  My consciousness fled like water down a drain, the world spiraling inward, colors bleeding to gray and then to nothing. The last sensation was of falling, endlessly, through velvet darkness.

  Buzz za za. Buzz za za. Buzz za za. The alarm’s harsh vibration shook the nightstand, making my sleepy head ache.

  Why haven’t I changed that awful alarm yet? There has to be a better way to wake up. Oh well, it is not like I work 9 to 5 anymore. The red numbers on the clock come into focus: 6:45 AM. My room is filled with that peculiar gray light that comes just before dawn. I untangle myself from the sheets wrapped around my legs.

  I got out of bed slowly, my joints aching. Did I just dream about dragons? It was so vivid, but like all my dreams, I’ll forget it before I even brush my teeth. That reminds me, I can’t eat or drink this morning. They told me to come in on an empty stomach for blood tests. My mouth already felt dry just thinking about it.

  After a hot shower, I got dressed in the clothes I’d set out last night. My cat Zelda was curled up on my pillow. I scratched behind her ear, where her fur was softest. She opened one green eye, then closed it again, ignoring me. Even the sound of her food in the bowl didn’t get her up. Well, it is her prerogative.

  The elevator descended with that peculiar stomach-dropping sensation, mirrors on all sides reflecting my anxious expression into infinity. Outside, morning sunlight glinted off skyscraper windows as I slid into the taxi I'd ordered in advance. My destination: Chimera Biologics, an unmarked building of smoked glass nestled between corporate high-rises, accessible by invitation only.

  Inside, technicians in pearl-white coats drew vials of ruby-dark blood from my veins. The lead physician, Dr. Mercer, with her steel-gray bob and steady hands, explained how they were successfully cultivating organs, perfect replicas grown from my own cellular blueprint. Evidently, this wasn’t science fiction anymore, though the government’s regulatory bodies couldn't quite catch up to these advancements. So the service operated only through invitation networks, but Dr. Mercer assured me that, within decades, once enough influential clients had benefited, legislation would inevitably follow.

  They promised no organ rejection, since they are literal copies of my own. Only younger and healthier. Dr. Mercer showed me microscopic images of my cells dividing with perfect precision in their nutrient baths, each one a testament to scientific triumph. I signed the contract with its microscopic print and hefty price tag, authorizing them to cultivate my second set of organs, my insurance policy against any accident.

  Once I hit fifty, which looms closer with each passing year, they’ll replace my weathered parts with these pristine duplicates. Pink lungs that have never known pollution, a new heart that hasn’t been overexerted yet, kidneys with membranes as delicate as butterfly wings. These laboratory-grown treasures promised to extend my life expectancy to at least a century, by which time, surely, they'd have invented something even more impressive.

  Mid-conversation, three sharp knocks echoed against the polished mahogany door. Dr. Mercer’s pearl earrings swung as she tilted her head toward the sound. A muffled voice called her away for some urgent matter. She excused herself with practiced professional courtesy, her lab coat billowing slightly as she slipped out, leaving me alone with the glossy brochures depicting smiling centenarians.

  Thud. Something heavy hit the floor outside the door.

  I winced at the sound, setting aside the glossy brochure with its sanitized images of rejuvenation. My curiosity propelled me forward. I eased the door open just as a blonde teenage girl, all gangly limbs and terror-widened eyes, burst through. Dried blood crusted around a fresh incision on her forearm as she gasped for breath between desperate screams.

  “Please, help me! I was kidnapped!”

  I let out a long sigh, my shoulders slumping. Of course, this is just my luck. It wasn’t a gleaming futuristic lab after all, just your run-of-the-mill illegal organ harvesting facility with its antiseptic smell masking their rotten core. Nothing ever works out my way, does it? I slid my phone from my pocket, the cool glass screen illuminating as I tried to call the police. Before I could finish dialing, the frosted glass door burst open. A security guard rushed in, his polyester uniform damp with sweat around the collar. He glanced at me with bloodshot eyes, then yanked a matte black pistol from his holster and aimed it at my chest, the barrel wavering slightly.

  “Please put it down,” he commanded, his voice cracking.

  He looked young, barely out of his teens, with a thin frame and acne-scarred cheeks. Nepotism was on my side. He wasn’t a former soldier or anything, not properly trained by the looks of him. Most likely picked for his ability to keep quiet rather than his competence. I raised my arms in a show of compliance, phone still clutched in my right hand, and took a slow step forward to shorten the distance between us, feeling the cool air conditioning raise goosebumps on my exposed skin.

  “Okay, just calm down. We are on the same side, right… oops.”

  I deliberately dropped the phone, the sleek device clattering against the polished floor tiles. His bloodshot eyes flickered downward. In one fluid motion, I pivoted my torso away from the line of fire of his wavering gun barrel while my right hand shot forward like a striking cobra. My fingers closed around the cold metal, forcing it sideways even further away from me as my left fist connected with his nose. A wet crunch followed by a spray of crimson droplets. His eyes watered instantly as I drove my knee upward into soft tissue, feeling the sickening give of vulnerable flesh. Still gripping the weapon, I twisted sharply, hearing the distinct snap of cartilage, his trigger finger bending unnaturally against metal.

  Textbook execution, my Krav Maga instructor would’ve been proud. The gun remained mercifully silent throughout. I pried the weapon from his now-slack fingers as he doubled over, face contorted in a silent scream. With practiced precision, I brought the pistol’s grip down hard against the vulnerable spot where his skull met his neck. He crumpled like a marionette with cut strings. My phone lay in pieces, its screen a spiderweb of fractures. Damn that fruit company and their obsession with form over function.

  I turned back to the girl and crouched down to her eye level, the gun still warm in my palm. “Okay, kid. Let’s try to get outside and call for help.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

  She nodded, blonde hair matted with sweat against her forehead. Her eyes, dark with specks of red in her irises, brimmed with fear, but there was a touch of something else now, too. Hope, fragile as spun glass.

  “Take your hand and grab my belt, right here.” I guided her trembling fingers to the leather loop at my hip. “You move when I move, freeze when I freeze. Always stay behind me, like a shadow. Got it?”

  She nodded again, tucking her hair behind one ear with her free hand. Her jaw set, with a very serious, focused look in those dark eyes. Smart kid. Her knuckles went pale around my belt as we turned toward the door.

  The main entrance was a death trap. Fire escape. The parking garage must had multiple exits, this wasn’t Fort Knox after all. We could slip out to a public street and call for help there. We hugged the wall, my breath like sandpaper in my throat, the girl’s fingers digging into my belt so hard I could feel her nails through my shirt. Each footstep echoed like a thunderclap in my ears. The stairwell door moaned as I eased it open, revealing concrete and fluorescent lights. Freedom.

  The parking garage door creaked like a dying animal, the sound reverberating through the concrete chamber. I froze, muscles coiled tight as piano wire, counting five rapid heartbeats that pounded in my ears. Nothing. I pointed toward the exit ramp, where afternoon sunlight spilled across oil-stained concrete like liquid gold. “Once we’re out, we run like hell to that ramp over there,” I whispered, my voice scarcely audible over the building’s mechanical buzzing. She nodded, her eyes wide and glassy with fear, fingers still digging into my belt. We stepped out onto the exposed parking level and ran.

  The crack of gunfire split the air. My leg exploded in white-hot agony, bone shattering as I crashed face-first onto the concrete. Blood poured from my femoral artery in rhythmic spurts, each heartbeat pumping more life onto the cold floor. I twisted, firing wildly behind us, the pistol bucking in my grip.

  "RUN, DAMMIT! GET HELP!"

  My vision tunneled to pinpricks of light. Blood soaked my clothes, spreading in a crimson pool beneath me. Too much blood. Too fast. My fingers went numb, the empty gun slipping from my grasp. I turned to see the girl vanish around a corner. Good, I thought as darkness rushed in like a tidal wave, drowning everything.

  I jolted upright with a strangled scream. My fur was all needles. I had a fur again, right? My consciousness felt like wet clay, malleable and formless. I was myself again, but a minute ago, I’d been someone else entirely, bleeding out on cold concrete with absolute certainty it was real.

  “Welcome back.” The dragon’s voice rumbled through the chamber, each syllable sending ripples across the surface of nearby water pools. His scales gleamed like wet obsidian in the dim light.

  “What the hell was that?” I pressed my padded palms against my temples, trying to anchor myself. “That illusion… It didn’t even feel like my past life, but I totally thought it was.”

  The dragon’s massive head lowered until one enormous amber eye was level with mine. “The spell weaves a narrative using fragments of your knowledge, memories, and fears. It creates a tapestry so convincing that your mind cannot distinguish it from reality.” His nostrils puffed some smoke as he continued explaining. “Consider it a miniature lifetime, compressed into moments. Your soul is tiny, but it clearly experienced quite a few lives already, so it can withstand the strain without shattering.” He paused, pupils contracting to slits. “Also…”

  “What?” My stomach knotted with dread.

  “It’s a series of tests, I’m afraid.” Something almost like sympathy flickered across his reptilian features.

  “Oh come on!” I groaned, falling back against the cold stone floor.

  “[Deep slumber.]” The dragon’s words slithered into my mind like smoke, and darkness swallowed me whole once again.

  A loud crash shook our cabin and woke me up. My fur stood on end as screams filled the night, then moved into our living room. My heart pounded as I crept out of my bedroom, my claws clicking on the wooden floor.

  The metallic stench hit me first, copper-rich and primal. Uncle Flo lay sprawled on the rug, his fur matted with crimson that pooled beneath him like spilled wine. His chest, normally rising prominently with steady breaths, remained horrifyingly still.

  Before I could process this, the cottage door splintered inward and Aunt Estrah’s body hurtled through the air, colliding with our stone hearth with a sound like wet laundry slapping against rock.

  “Huuumpf!” The impact forced a ragged exhale from her lungs, her eyes bulging with shock. Yet somehow, impossibly, those emerald irises remained alert, focused on something lurking beyond the shattered doorframe, something that cast a misshapen shadow across our threshold. I lunged for the broken door, splinters piercing my paw pads as I slammed it shut.

  Aunt Estrah’s eyes focused on mine with terrifying intensity. “Zar, listen to me.” Blood bubbled at the corner of her mouth. “This isn’t just a regular monster. It devours souls. Erases them from existence.”

  My chest tightened so much I couldn’t breathe. The room spun. Soul eaten? Not just dying, but being erased forever? No more reincarnations, no more Jerome, just nothing? The thing I feared most had found me here.

  “I need you to kill me.” Her voice cracked. “Now.”

  “What?” The word tore from my throat.

  Her body convulsed once, violently. “My spine is shattered. And that thing…” A wet, rattling sound came from outside. “It’s coming.”

  I tried to take her healing ring off her hand. “Magic, we can heal you with…”

  “No!” Blood sprayed from her mouth as she shouted. “My spine is pulverized. Listen.” Aunt Estrah’s eyes blazed with ancient terror. “A thousand years I’ve lived, Zar. A thousand. And I’d rather have my throat slit by someone I adore so much than have my very existence devoured by that abomination.” Her voice dropped to a rasp. “I am so sorry to ask you this, but you must do it.“

  “I…” My vision blurred with tears that scorched tracks down my muzzle. “I love you, Aunt Estrah.”

  Her smile was crimson-stained. “I love you too, Zar.”

  The blade caught the firelight as I raised it.

  Her eyes locked on mine. “Good boy,” she whispered, then closed them one last time.

  I slashed her throat. Not in a straight line, U-shaped cut, like Uncle Flo taught me for a clean kill. Hot blood gushed over my trembling paws, soaking into my fur. Her body convulsed once, twice, then stilled.

  With no time to mourn, I bolted to my room, snatched my javelin, and hurled myself through the window. Glass shredded my shoulder as I crashed onto the ground outside. I sprinted eastward, lungs burning, each footfall jarring my bones. Behind me came a sound that turned my blood to ice, a thunderous roar that split the night, vibrating through the earth beneath my paws. The soul-eater was gaining.

  Jerome's promise of options available to me echoed in my mind like a cruel joke as I veered sharply uphill toward the cliff’s edge. What options do I have? I have none left. My lungs burned like they’d been filled with molten metal. The soul-eater’s hot breath scorched my back, close enough that I could smell the putrid stench of previous victims.

  The loose stones skittered beneath my paws as I reached the narrowing path. One misstep meant death. Perfect. I hurled myself into a desperate roll just as the path vanished into nothingness, my body skimming the cliff’s edge. The monster’s momentum carried it forward, its massive form silhouetted against the night sky for one suspended moment before gravity claimed it.

  A searing pain tore through my leg as one of its barbed claws hooked deep into my flesh. Time slowed. We were falling together into oblivion, its maw opening to try to bite me, maybe even consume my soul. With a primal scream that shredded my throat, I drove my javelin into its pulsing eye socket, feeling the satisfying crunch as it penetrated brain matter.

  Everything went dark before I hit the ground.

  This time, consciousness returned without a scream tearing from my throat. Instead, my stomach heaved violently, and I emptied its contents onto the stone floor.

  “It will pass,” rumbled the dragon, his tone unexpectedly soft.

  I wiped my muzzle with the back of my paw, glaring up at him. “This is not a test, this is torture.”

  “You are not asking for an orichalcum blade, are you?” His voice wasn’t a question but a growl that shook through the stone beneath my paws. “You are asking for something much more dangerous. These tests reflect it.”

  “Aaargh, yeah. I get it…” I winced, ears flattening against my skull as I tried to steady myself on trembling knees. My throat felt raw, scraped clean of dignity. “By the way, can you make an orichalcum weapon? Just a spear tip would be lovely.”

  The dragon’s mouth curled into what might have been amusement. The single word that followed seemed to bend the air itself: “[Deep slumber.]”

  That night stretched like an eternity of nightmares, each illusion bleeding seamlessly into the next. Irleophiss dragged me through nine distinct hells, each more visceral than the last. Illusions that felt so real, each with its own particular flavor of torment. Some lasted an hour, others felt like years. Every single one felt so real, and I didn’t question them. After a dozen of those experiences, I started to feel like something fundamental was changing in me. I didn’t feel the same. It felt like my core was hollowed. Not necessarily in a bad way, more like… it was changed to create space to be filled with something else. Was that the point of it all?

  By dawn, I felt it for certain. I was still myself… but different. Untraceable, something was changed inside of me, maybe like that ‘unique signature’ my soul supposedly had. Felt like something was added to it. The change wasn’t physical, nor have I gone through a psychological catharsis. It was deeper, as if the dragon had reached into the blueprint of my being and rewritten certain lines. As a result, something deep inside of me snapped and regrew. Like a bone that grew stronger after being broken a bunch of times. Which I know is a myth, but we are dealing with dragons and souls here. Myth is the new real.