"It is with many regrets that I announce Marvin will be returned to his parents... in the human realm." Elder Sage Herman announces.

Gasps are heard all around, and some Sprouts, the ones I've seen chumming with Marvin before, are bursting into sobs.

It's a real risk with breathpainting. It's the most powerful offensive discipline, but the catch is that if your creathure dies, whatever fragment of soul you imbued into it disperses with it. Gone. Forever.

Marvin's creathure that was repeatedly stabbed to death was a small fuzzy white thing. For Sages that might mean being listless for a few days until they adjust to the feeling of being less whole. But for a Sprout like us? It's a death sentence. Marvin's probably never waking up.

"We're still investigating what happened and who was involved. If anyone knows anything, please come forward." The Elder Sage is looking right at me as he says this. As if he knows what I saw. But he can't know. He can only suspect. Esscent Mist Sages are empaths, not mind readers. The idea that my emotions are on display gives me the creeps but at least my thoughts, and my secrets, are still safe.

The only one with more than just a suspicion to go off of is Grand Elder Sage Julian, the Sage who saw me threaten the Mirage Forge Saplings in the forest. And for a reason I can't fathom, he's kept this information to himself.

I started keeping tabs on him immediately because I needed to know who he was and why he was watching me. Also if my cover was blown and they were coming for me, I wanted as much of a head start to escape.

But it's been over a week now and all he seems to do is meditate and guide those who seek an audience with him.

I should probably stop spying on him, but I'm addicted.

Just like how I can watch the sun rise from within the sea of clouds every morning, or watch the waves crash against the ridges of a cliff all day, watching the Grand Elder Sage is mesmerizing. It’s not like I’ve never seen someone attractive before. But it’s beyond just being attractive. It’s the way he moves with the elegance of a river. The way he smiles so gently at the Saplings and Sages who vie for his attention like sunflowers reaching for the sun. The soothing timber of his voice. I just want to soak up the warmth of his presence, like a little sunflower myself.

Elder Sage Herman is still droning on about how important it is to stick with a buddy. Yeah, like I could be friends with a naive, starry-eyed Sprout half my age. Okay not quite half, but it feels like it when they've been pampered and loved all their lives. They've never seen death like I have. Seen their loved ones brutally murdered. Or have been so hungry their ribs are threatening to break free from under their skin. Or have been looked at with horror by the same people who used to smile at them. Or be forced to steal because it's either that or die a slow and painful death. Or wear out the soles of their shoes but keep trudging through bleeding feet because all they have left to live for is revenge.

No.

They're horrified by even an implied suggestion we skip class. Their worst fear is an adult's frown directed at them. They look at me like I'm crazy for not thinking training to be a Sage who protects humans from the Demons isn't the most wonderful and glorious thing in the world.

So no, I could never be friends with the other Sprouts. At most, I tolerate their presence for as little as necessary for them to shield me from being discovered as the shell of a child I am, who lied to be where I am now.

As soon as Elder Sage Herman releases us, I head straight for one of my secluded hideouts. This one is on an elevated outcrop overlooking the entire community. My creathure helped me discover it and I like it because I can look down at everyone busying about while I'm hidden away, cradled by rock formations. The lack of shade isn't a big issue as I breathpaint a palm with extra large leaves to protect me.

The heat from the sunlight reflecting off the rocks warms me as I close my eyes and slip into the link I share with my creathure.

Like the rest of my creathures it doesn't have a name, but I fashioned this one to look and act identical to a regular squirrel.

It’s clinging to the branches of a maple tree. The one overlooking the courtyard where the Grand Elder Sage is meditating alone.

I love that through my creathure's eyes I can stare as blatantly as I want, tracing my eyes along his regal silhouette.

He's the only Grand Elder Sage of the Esscent Mist Sect, the highest in command here, second only to the Pillar. So he's probably hundreds of years old, but he doesn't look it. He doesn't quite look young, but he doesn't look old either. Just ageless. Timeless. Like a work of art.

I'm taking in his luscious brown hair swept back, smooth skin, strong brows, imagining myself drawing him. His lashes flutter open and eyes the color of a crisp winter sky are staring straight at me. My heart stutters for a moment before I recall he's looking at a squirrel, not me. I resist the urge to look away. I'm breathless as I allow myself to be mesmerized by the myriad hues of the sky reflected in his eyes.

They've curved into joyful crescents, and the sunlight is making little shards of ice dance in his eyes. I'm in awe.

He pulls out a peeled walnut from his pocket and holds it up towards me. Wait. This seems out of character. I think back on if I've ever seen him feed squirrels and the answer is no.

Run away! I'm trying to command my creathure, but it's too far from me, and far too captivated by the beautiful man and his beautiful smile.

I take deep breaths to calm my unease. It's okay, I made sure it's indistinguishable from a regular squirrel. Julian probably just likes small furry animals and definitely does not suspect anything.

It runs up to Julian and tepidly grabs the nut. It turns to leave but Julian pulls out another nut. And a dried fruit. My stupid creathure hesitates for less than a second before being lured back into Julian's hand.

Julian's finger gently pats the crown of its head and then wiggles its way down to its neck. And my freaking creathure is leaning into the touch. Pleasure tingles down my spine as a warm pressure rubs me behind my ears.

What? My muscles tense. Ever since my parents died I've found human touch to be creepy and unbearable.

I force myself to breathe and relax. Julian isn't touching me. He's petting a squirrel. I am a squirrel. It's okay. Everything's okay. I breathe out my panic and let myself slip back into the link and find that the sensation is… surprisingly soothing.

Julian’s hand is so warm and comforting, I find myself craving more as it rubs down my back and trails onto my stomach. My stomach? My eyes snap open in shock and register that my freaking creathure is on its back and getting a full on belly rub. I hear a rumble and the hand beneath me is trembling. I peek up and find Julian’s eyes are bright and he’s chuckling.

I am mortified, but I repeat to myself that I am a squirrel. Just a stupid little squirrel. Julian is merely petting a squirrel. And the moment this dumb-as-rocks squirrel has snapped out of it, it's going right back into the sketchbook where it will stay.

"Excuse me, Grand Elder Sage?" I hear a woman's voice call out to Julian. It's another Sage. 

Finally, it's my chance! I coax my traitorous creathure to get up and hurry back to me. It reluctantly sits up, blinks a couple times and lifts its butt off the hand. Just when I'm about to weep tears of joy, Julian's hand closes around the squirrel in a gentle but firm grip and then stuffs it in his inner pocket. 

What in the three realms?

I'm freaking out and so is my creathure as it struggles to claw its way out. 

"Yes? Can I help you?" Julian's voice is a deep rumble.

I feel a gentle pressure patting from outside the pocket. On the other side is the thumping of his heartbeat. It's steady and soothing, lulling me to sleep. Wait. Sleep?

Nooooooooo! Somehow my creathure has fallen asleep. Why? Of course I know that Julian has a calming effect on others. But doesn't my creathure have any self preservation skills?

I'm crying without tears and wondering how I'm going to get my creathure back. And how long is it planning to keep snoozing? It's sustained by my soul and isn't a real squirrel so it can't be sleeping naturally. Julian must have induced it to sleep somehow. The only explanation is that he knows it's not a real squirrel, but how? And he seemed so gentle and upright, I'm dumbfounded by his underhanded behavior. Well nevermind that I was the one spying on him, how could he lure it to himself so sweetly only to make it faint... and what’s he planning to do next? No, I've got to rescue my creathure..!

My mind races as I concoct a plan to liberate my creathure from his grasp. I don't even realize I'm biting my nails until I feel a light pressure on my head. A hand. Petting my head.

I freeze. I look up. Into the smiling winter sky eyes that are so much more brilliant in person. "Julian?"

He raises a brow, amusement sparkling in his eyes. I realize belatedly that that was really disrespectful of me. I drop my head in a bow. "I mean, Grand Elder Sage. What brings you here?" 

"I came to return this to you." His words are innocuous enough but my heart plummets. Oh no.

Julian gently pulls out my creathure from his front pocket who finally stirs, slowly blinking the sleep from its eyes. Julian scritches below its neck some more and the traitorous thing is hugging and nuzzling Julian's long slender finger. What's even more agonizing is that even as my face is on fire and I fidget uncomfortably, my heart is trembling with joy from the contact. While pleasure and shame battle within me, Julian watches me with dancing eyes.

I can't take it anymore. I yank my creathure from Julian's grasp, ignoring the strange mixture of relief and disappointment, and slap it back into my sketchbook.

I blew my chances at bluffing my way out, but I really couldn't stand the overstimulation for a moment longer. I feel completely naked. With nothing I can do or say to save the situation, I squeeze my sketchbook to my chest and flee. Running from his soft breathy chuckle that simultaneously fills me with shame and anticipation.