#dalmar

The question of how Douxie would know when Merlin had come back was answered very easily. His magical presence swept into town like a hurricane of arcane energy, old and powerful. Douxie dropped the books he was shelving. “He’s here. Archie—”

“I felt it, too,” Archie murmured, “Douxie—”

Douxie didn’t wait to hear whatever it was. He bolted, following the source of magic until he came to… Jim’s house. Of course. The trollhunter. Merlin’s champion. Why wouldn’t he be there?

Still, Douxie felt enraged on the real Hisirdoux’s behalf. Shouldn’t Merlin have come to his apprentice first?!

There was nothing for it. He couldn’t approach Merlin with Jim around. He trudged back to the bookstore, silently seething. The hell. He’d been waiting, waiting for CENTURIES, and Merlin couldn’t even bother to check in on his apprentice?! What kind of master was he?!

Douxie slammed the bookstore door shut. “He’s staying with the trollhunter,” he snarled, “What was the point of opening up this store if he wasn’t even going to—”

“I think you ought to call in for work at the café tonight,” Archie said mildly.

“What?!”

Archie nodded to a cuckoo clock on the wall. It was going nuts and bananas. “I think Merlin’s trying to get us a message.”

Night fell all too quickly, and suddenly, Douxie wasn’t too sure about this whole mission. He’d never studied how Hisirdoux had interacted with his master—he couldn’t have. What if he messed it up?

The bell to the shop tinkled.

An old man in armor strode through.

Douxie took a step forward to greet Merlin.

And a pulse of magic immediately sent him flying backwards and into a bookshelf.

Douxie lay there, stunned, wondering what had just hit him. Archie hissed and flapped down to stand next to him, his back arched. “Who are you?!” the familiar demanded, “Why do you look like Merlin?!”

The old man pushed through the room and towards Douxie. “Move aside, Archibald, this is not your familiar!”

Douxie struggled to push himself up, mind racing. He didn’t know—he couldn’t! This was a test, right?! “Master—”

Another blast of magic caught him, throwing him across the room again, this time so hard the books fell off of the shelf, burying him. “You are not my apprentice!”

Archie dive-bombed Merlin, clawing at his metal-plated head. “What is the matter with you?!”

Merlin pushed him aside. “Nothing is wrong with me, now move aside and let me handle this!”

Douxie blasted his way out of the books, burning with rage. Fine! Merlin wanted a fight?! He’d get a fight! He threw spell after spell at Merlin, but the wizard just kept approaching. Douxie threw up a hasty shield as Merlin sent another magic blast, but Merlin’s magic overcame his own, and he was pushed back again. He struggled back to his feet.

“If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get,” he yelled, pulling on the fire in the grate and hurling it towards Merlin with a scream.

Merlin caught the flames and dismissed them in a puff of smoke, his eyes blazing as chains shot from his hands and wrapped around Douxie. “Where is my apprentice?!” he shouted.

Archie pushed in-between them. “Both of you, stop it!” he yowled, “Merlin, it’s Douxie! Can’t you recognize your own apprentice?!”

“I think the better question is why you can’t recognize an imposter,” Merlin growled. He held up an iron horseshoe. “Let’s see who you really are, hm?”

“This is ridiculous!” Archie snarled, “Nine centuries napping addled your mind, Merlin!”

“Then it won’t hurt anything.”

Douxie struggled to get out of the magical chains. “Don’t you get near me! Leave me alone!”

Wrong move. Archie paused, looking back at him. “Douxie?”

“Arch—don’t let him get me, you know it’s me!”

Archie shook his head, “It… it can’t hurt, right?”

The door was pushed open, and Zoe gaped. “… Douxie?!” She ran towards them, but Archie flew up.

“Wait,” he said in a resigned voice, “Something’s… not right.”

Merlin brandished the horseshoe as Douxie thrashed desperately against his bonds. “Last chance,” he thundered, “Tell the truth now, creature!”

Douxie flinched away from the iron held inches from his skin. “Fine!” he howled, “Fine, I—I’m—I’m not—” He couldn’t finish.

Merlin set down the horseshoe. “Where. Is my. Apprentice.”

Archie fell to the ground, like his wings couldn’t support him anymore. “Douxie—no, you’re not—”

“I’m sorry, Archie,” Douxie pleaded, “I never meant—I know I…”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Merlin growled, “Where. Is. The real. Hisirdoux.”

“I don’t know.”

Merlin grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Yes you do! You’re lying! Where have you stashed him?!”

“He’s not lying,” Zoe interjected, “He doesn’t know. He tips his head and widens his eyes when he lies.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “How long?”

Douxie stared at the ground. He couldn’t look any of them in the eye either. Every dream of rescuing his parents and then continuing with Zoe and Archie was crashing down around his ears, seeming to mock him for thinking he could EVER have gotten away with it. “Eight centuries.”

Archie’s claws went in and out. “Eight centuries. I didn’t notice you were an imposter for eight centuries.”

“It was a clever enchantment,” Merlin said softly, “It bonded him to Hisirdoux as a familiar, giving you and he the same attachment—there was no way for you to tell through your familiar’s bond. The same holds true for my apprenticeship bond. I only knew because I am familiar with Morgana’s magic on a much deeper level, and he reeks of her enchantment.”

“I still should have noticed.”

Merlin tilted Douxie’s face up. “What dark purpose were you sent for, creature?”

“I was supposed to spy on you,” Douxie muttered, tearing his face away, “I was supposed to report your plans to Gunmar.”

Archie shook his head. “How could you?!” he hissed, his ears flattened, “Why—”

All of the rage and confusion that had been building up over the last few months—at Merlin, at the Order, at Morgana, at himself, finally broke loose. “It’s not like I ASKED to be a changeling,” he shouted, “It’s not like I ASKED for every single thing about me to be ripped to shreds and pieced back together! I didn’t ASK to be born in the Darklands, and I didn’t ASK to be a wizard troll, and I didn’t ASK to get torn away from my family and be told I couldn’t see them or even think about them ever again, and I didn’t ASK to be a replacement for some wizard who’s somehow oh-so-better than me in every way!” Tears dripped down his face, and he HATED it, and he hated them all looking at him. “I didn’t ask for any of this! But when the Pale Lady says she’s picked you, and you’re living in the darklands where everything is a living nightmare and Gunmar has control over everything you don’t exactly get to say ‘no thank you! I’d rather not be a changeling if it’s all the same to you!’ No one ever ASKED me if I wanted to do it, but you all act like I had any CHOICE in ANY OF THIS!”

The chains disappeared, and he thumped to the floor, wiping at his eyes, “I don’t know where Hisirdoux is,” he said in a small, broken voice, “I don’t know what Morgana is planning.”

“Do you know anything?” Archie begged, “Even the slightest hint of how he is? Is he safe?”

Douxie felt like his heart was being ripped into shreds. He sounded so worried, and Douxie knew he wouldn’t ever sound like that for him again. It didn’t matter how much time they’d spent together, how many centuries he’d been away from the real Hisirdoux. He still preferred the company of someone he’d lost long ago.

Zoe had asked why he wanted to go back to Merlin so bad when the time he’d had with her and Archie was more real.

Now he could ask her the same question.

He sniffed, looking up at Merlin. “You know how changelings’ bonds with their familiars work?” he croaked. At a nod from the old wizard, he peeled his jacket off, revealing the blue lines of stone in his flesh. He took off his shirt, too, and stared bleakly at his skin, which almost seemed more blue than pink. Archie hissed in, and Douxie shivered. “I can’t help you find him. I’m sorry.”

“Get out,” Merlin growled, “Get out of my shop.”

Douxie wriggled back into his shirt, clutching his jacket like a lifeline. “Where am I going to go?”

“I don’t care. Hopefully you’ll wander into a patch of sunlight as a troll and get turned to stone. I’m getting my apprentice back one way or another.” He leaned in, yanking Douxie up by the shirt front and pushing him out the door. “And you tell Morgana that it doesn’t matter what she is planning. After what she did to my apprentice, I will kill her myself.”

He released Douxie, pushing him away, and slamming the door in his face. Douxie felt the sun start to burn on the exposed stone lines and he slipped back into his jacket, tears running down his face. Archie hated him. Zoe didn’t even want to look at him. His mission was in shambles. He’d somehow managed to lose everyone.

Well. He could still get his parents—maybe he couldn’t live happily ever after with Zoe and Archie anymore. But he still could at least have his family. He just had to get into trollmarket. And he knew just the person.

Douxie jogged to the Nunez house, throwing rocks at the window he knew was Claire’s. Morgana wasn’t there anymore—that was good. He didn’t need her slithering around in his mind right now.

Claire opened the window, her mouth open wide. “Douxie?!” she hissed.

“I know everything,” he said in a rush, “Claire, I know you’re a shadow magician. I know about Gunmar and Morgana and Merlin and Jim. And I need you to get me into trollmarket. Please.”

Claire slid out the window. “How long…?”

“The whole time,” he confessed, “I’m a wizard, Claire. And…” she didn’t need to know about the changeling thing. “I just need one favor. One portal in. I’ll find my own way out.”

“It’s going to be crazy dangerous in there, Douxie!”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, “Claire, please. And. Uh. Don’t tell Jim.”

She drew back. “Why?”

Douxie shifted from one foot to another. “Mmmmm Merlin wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out. Just… keep this one secret. Please?”

She hesitated, then summoned her staff to her. “Okay. Be careful, alright? I’m counting on crushing you in Battle of the Bands.”

“Heh. Okay.” Not something he’d be doing anymore, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Claire opened the portal. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, fair Claire.”

Douxie slipped through the portal and into troll market, snatching up a key that he saw. There. Way out, taken care of. He was pretty sure Dictatious would let him go if he told him the mission was going well, but just in case…

He made his way to the Hero’s Forge, where Gunmar was making Gum-Gums. In a cage in the corner was… the real Hisirdoux. Douxie’s familiar was limp on the floor of his cage, still bleeding from several recent wounds. Douxie traced the blue lines on his skin he knew matched up with the injuries. This wasn’t right. They should have known better than to harm a familiar, and besides, how could they… was this the fate in store for Zoe? “Where’s Dictatious?” he blurted.

Gunmar whirled around. “Dictatious is a traitor and a worm,” he snarled, “Tell me who you are before I rip your head off!”

Douxie held his hands up. “I’m a changeling! I was the Pale Lady’s special assignment?”

Gunmar regarded him for a moment, then growled. “I remember. Speak.”

“Dictatious promised that—that my parents would be taken care of,” Douxie stammered, “I—I wanted to see—”

“They’re dead,” Gunmar said dismissively, “Died a few years after you were sent out. Couldn’t survive in the Darklands. They were weak.”

A surge of rage swept over Douxie, and his magic responded, sending out a pulse that sent Gunmar flying backwards, and blasted open the cage in the corner. Douxie ran across the room, ripping the door of the cage off of its hinges. He picked up his unconscious familiar and slung him over one shoulder. Archie might hate him now. But he could still do this for him.

“TRAITOR!” Gunmar howled.

“You go back on your word, I go back on mine!” Douxie hissed, and he ran. Hisirdoux was heavy, but not unbearably so, and he made it to the gyre station, using the key he’d picked up earlier to escape into the sewers. Heavy stone feet pounded after him, but he had one advantage they didn’t, and the first chance he got, he surged into sunlight. Enraged howls echoed behind him, but he ignored them, charging through the streets of Arcadia.

He hesitated outside of the bookshop. They’d made it quite clear that they’d never wanted to see him again. Even if he brought back their lost friend, would they even start to forgive him?

He was about to just set Hisirdoux down, ring the doorbell, and run away, when the door was pulled open, and Zoe’s shocking blue eyes met his. “Douxie?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

“Hey,” he responded. He tried for his usual bravado, but his voice cracked, and he looked away. “I, uh. I found him. Gunmar brought him back from the Darklands, and… can we come in?”

She wordlessly stepped aside, and he walked in, gently putting his familiar down on a desk. Merlin was glaring at him, but moved towards his unconscious apprentice.

“DOUXIE!” Archie yowled, diving down and nudging his face.

Douxie stepped back as they crowded around the real Hisirdoux, shrinking into a corner. Why did doing the right thing feel so awful?!

When Zoe saw the injuries Hisirdoux had sustained, her hands clenched into fists, and thunder boomed outside. Rain came not long after.

“About your mission…” she started.

Hisirdoux woke up, quailing away from the hands trying to bandage his wounds. Zoe turned back to him. He flinched at the light, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Douxie?” Archie asked quietly, his voice cracking.

Hisirdoux reached a trembling hand out and clumsily pat the cat, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut. Merlin got the hint and dimmed the lights.

Slowly, carefully, Hisirdoux opened his eyes. They fell on Douxie.

And he started to scream.

“What is it?” Archie asked frantically, “What’s wrong?”

To everyone’s surprise, especially Merlin’s, Hisirdoux launched himself at the wizard, burying his face in Merlin’s armor, babbling about “his face but not his face and he got me.” Merlin patted his back, picked him up, and took him into a back room, presumably where he wouldn’t have to look at his changeling self anymore.

The sick, horrible feeling in Douxie’s stomach got worse as Archie gave him a tortured look and fled to the back room after Hisirdoux. Merlin emerged a few moments later, glaring. “I’m removing the bond between you and my apprentice,” he said stiffly, “After which you will leave and never come back. I… appreciate your rescuing of him, but you cannot stay around. It would cause him far too much distress, and recovery from his ordeal will be difficult enough as is without a visual reminder of the one who put him there in the first place.”

“I—”

Merlin waved a hand, and something seemed to go snap inside of Douxie, like a line being broken.

And fire broke out inside his veins.

When he’d been turned into a changeling, it had felt like he was being ripped apart and thrown back together. This transformation, it was different. Everything was stretching and elongating. His shoes fell off as his feet shrank, and the rest of his clothes got tight and uncomfortable as he got taller. The skin on his head split and dripped blood down his face as his horns erupted back. Douxie curled in a ball on the ground, blind with pain as his bones shifted and popped and moved in ways that human bones weren’t supposed to move. His canines popped out of his mouth of their own accord, heavy, sharp teeth meant for biting and tearing forcing their way out. He gagged on the blood, spitting it out with a whine. His feet felt like they were compressing and shrinking, like they were being shoved in too-tight shoes if those shoes were ten sizes too small and hardening all the time.

He hadn’t thought he’d miss crying, but the pain made him want to, and he just couldn’t, because his body didn’t work that way anymore and it hurt!

And then it was over, just leaving him sore and achy and clumsy and too heavy and with his body all rearranged and strange. The rain was pouring down even harder now, like Zoe had completely lost control of all her magic. She looked horrified, and he had to stop looking at her, because it hurt too much in a way that the transformation hadn’t.

Merlin waved a hand, and the door opened. “Leave. The rain will keep you from being burned by the sun.”

Douxie struggled to his feet—no, hooves, and they slipped and slid under him. He fell, and he knew if his troll body was capable of it, tears would have pricked his eyes as he tried and failed again to walk.

“GO!” Merlin yelled, and Douxie scrambled away, pulling his hood up to hide his face. He slipped and slid in the rain, half crawling and stumbling along the ground.

Where was he supposed to go?

Xxx

Merlin reentered the back room, dusting off his hands. “I’ve taken care of the changeling. How’s Hisirdoux?”

Archie shuddered. Douxie—the real Douxie—had fallen asleep, thank goodness. “Taken care of? Did you…”

“He’s alive. I’ve permanently returned him to his troll form, and he’s gone. He’ll survive.”

Archie told himself that he shouldn’t feel bad for the changeling. He’d kidnapped Douxie. He’d impersonated him for years. He’d tricked them all.

But he still felt… something. It was complicated. And hearing him scream and whimper from the other room…

No. He had his Hisirdoux back, the real one. That was what mattered.

Archie kneaded the ground with his claws anxiously. “Merlin… I’ve changed, over the last eight-hundred years since he was replaced. I’m sure he’s changed, too. What if… what if we’ve changed in different directions? And I didn’t even realize it wasn’t him with us. What if…”

“I expect getting back to some semblance of normal will take work,” Merlin responded gruffly, “You will both have to adapt to get used to this new reality. I expect I haven’t changed much at all, being asleep.”

“I think that will help. To have some kind of constant. I’m just worried…”

“Archibald. You are his familiar, and he is yours. You are linked in a way that is unexplainable, and your bond with him goes deeper than a superficial friendship. It may take some doing, but I think the two of you will be just fine. Can’t say the same for that other wizard. She’s long gone—took off after the changeling.”

Archie’s ears pricked up. “Zoe?”

“Is that her name? Yes, she left not long after, calling for him.”

Some part of Archie felt… relieved. His place was here, with the real Douxie. But the changeling… Archie had grown to love him, too, even if it had been a lie.

At least he won’t be alone.

Xxx

Douxie pulled his hoodie drawstrings tighter. He was hiding under a street, in a ditch tunnel. It was wet, and cold, and miserable.

Perfect for how he already felt.

He couldn’t even walk properly—how was he supposed to live the rest of his life in this form?

A shadow approached in the rain, and Zoe ducked under the concrete tunnel entrance, soaking wet. “Hey. You picked a hell of a place to camp out.”

Douxie hugged his knees to his chest. “I can’t go back.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Zoe shifted from one foot to the other. “Hey, uh. What I was trying to ask earlier, about your mission… was I a part of it? Was that first date on the belltower part of some plan? Was our relationship…”

“No,” Douxie replied immediately, “It wasn’t part of the plan, it was… it was the one thing I DID ask for. The one part of this stupid situation that I chose.”

“Okay. Good. I was hoping you’d say that. So… I’m thinking small-town Arcadia kind of blows. Where’s our next adventure?”

Douxie lifted his head. “What?”

“Where do you want to go next? I’ve heard Yellowstone is nice. Or the redwoods—those are even pretty close!”

Douxie’s brain short-circuited. “Wait. You… you don’t want to stay with the real Hisirdoux?”

She snorted. “I only knew him for like. Two weeks before you swapped with him. I don’t know the real Hisirdoux. I know you. I spent eight centuries with you. I fell in love with you. I’m not in love with the real Hisirdoux—I’m in love with you.”

“But I thought—all the rain—you’re not mad at me?”

“What? No! I—I was scared. I came in, and Merlin was attacking you, and Archie was taking his side, and—I was mad. I was mad because Merlin hurt you, and I was scared because you were hurting so bad and there wasn’t anything I could DO, and… I wasn’t mad at you. You can be… frustrating, sometimes, but this time… I was just scared for you.”

“So…”

She sat down next to him, lacing her hand in his much larger one. “So… what’s your real name?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I… I don’t remember. I’ve been Douxie for so long, I don’t know who I started out as.”

“K. I’ll just keep calling you Douxie, then. Where to next?”

“Isn’t it… I mean, I can’t travel in daylight now. We’d have to travel at night, or in the rain, or—”

Zoe shut him up by pulling him down by his collar and kissing him. “Good thing I like the rain.”

Douxie blinked, relatively certain that if he’d had his human form, he would be bright scarlet. “Uh. Heh.”

Zoe grinned. “So. Where to next?”

The year did not pass in a flash, even after he got a job at a little cafe. The year passed agonizingly slowly, with one dull moment after another, while in the meantime, Zoe came back with story after story of exciting goings-on at Hextech.

Well. Not every moment was dull. Sometimes the moments were painfully embarrassing as he would be called up to the board to attempt something he didn’t know how to do, or would be handed back yet another assignment with a ridiculous amount of red ink scrawled on it.

The teachers seemed to be catching on that he knew absolutely nothing, and had one of two reactions; one of them was to simply leave him alone and not embarrass him further, and the other was to attempt to help him learn by calling on him more often.

At least once the students accepted that he was dumb as dirt when it came to school, they liked him fine. A lot of them were incredibly confused about how he could possibly be so bad at school and then be socially competent. He tried to steer clear of them.

Douxie Casperan, please report to the counselor’s office.

Uh-oh. That did not sound good.

Aaaaand yep, the whispers started up, following him down to the counselor’s little room. Really, it wasn’t THAT hard to figure out why he was being called out. He sat down in a chair, his report card facing him with a line of F’s and D’s. Oh, and one A+ in history. He could do that, at least, having lived through most of it.

“Douxie,” the guidance counselor started.

“Yep, I know, I’m a horrendous student with horrendous grades, I need to take school seriously and apply myself. I know all that.”

“You’re a smart kid, Douxie. Your history grades prove that you can do well. And the teachers all say that you’re trying. It just seems like… you’re missing a lot of other information.”

Uh-oh. She was a little too smart. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t seem to struggle in Calculus because you don’t understand calculus—it’s like you struggle because you never learned algebra, so the background isn’t there. It seems like no one ever taught you basic essay-writing skills, so you can’t write an essay, despite seeming to understand analyzing literature fairly well.”

Douxie nodded along as she spoke, but his attention was caught on something outside the window. Something very shiny, and glowing blue.

Trollhunter. The amulet. That bar girl had been right. And the trollhunter was… wandering around in broad daylight. A human?!

“Douxie?”

Douxie put his hands down on the desk. “You’re right, I never took algebra, also I’m nineteen so I don’t technically have to be here, bye!”

He ran out the door, grabbed his bag, and left school forever. He didn’t find the trollhunter, but that didn’t matter. No more calculus. No more counselors and school. The human trollhunter had arrived.

According to the instructions Merlin had left behind for his apprentice, that meant Merlin couldn’t be far behind.

Xxx

Douxie read Merlin’s instructions. Then he read them again. And one more time just to be sure. The old wizard hadn’t left behind anything specific. Only that there would be a human trollhunter, and he would be the one to wake Merlin. And that Douxie was to stay out of it. No handy dates, or a “meet up here!” note, besides a vague bunch of instructions about opening up a bookshop.

“Don’t stress too much over it,” Archie advised him, “He’s Merlin. He’ll contact us when he’s ready, I expect.”

“I don’t want—” Douxie bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t exactly tell Archie about his mission. “I don’t want to wait that long. What if he’s forgotten about us?”

“Merlin never forgets a detail. It’s his thing.”

“I know, I just…”

“Douxie. It’s okay. He’ll be here. Just… be patient.”

Douxie swept the pages of instructions off of the Hextech help counter. “I’ve been patient!” he shouted, “I’ve waited for nine-hundred years, and he can’t even bother to give me a place to check?!”

The door swung open, and Zoe took in the scene. “Oh, boy. Don’t tell me Mr. Arthurian legend is going to be here soon.”

“Well, the problem is,” Douxie growled, “I don’t know!”

Zoe delicately picked up the written instructions, scanning through them. “Right. Well, if you’re really so determined to wait around for this guy—”

“I am!”

“Then I suggest you open that bookstore he’s got set up. If he’s going to meet you anywhere, it’ll probably be there.” Zoe took his hand. “Douxie, can I talk to you? Alone?”

Douxie let her lead him outside, where she dropped his hand. “Why do you need Merlin?” she asked simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Why do you need him? Why are you so determined to meet back up with this guy that abandoned you for nine-hundred years?”

“I—there’s still so much I don’t know about magic. And I’m not a master wizard yet, I—”

“Why do you need to be a master wizard? Why do you need Merlin? You’ve been doing just fine without him, or some master wizard title for so long! With just you, me, and Archie! What do you need some crusty old guy to tell you?!”

Well, being a master wizard had been the other Hisirdoux’s plan. But… why was he still holding onto some mission? One that he hadn’t needed to do for nine-hundred years? No. That kind of thinking was out of line. He needed to do this. For his parents, if he couldn’t do it for the pale lady. “I… I just need it.”

“But why?!” Zoe half-screamed, “What’s so important about it?!” She grabbed his hand again. “We don’t have to open the bookshop! We don’t know when or if Merlin will wake up! We can go anywhere, do anything—just like we did before you saw the human trollhunter! You can work here, at Hextech, the wizards here are so varied, you can learn whatever magic you want from them—some of them probably even know things that Merlin doesn’t! Just forget about Merlin and his instructions! How can you feel so attached to him still—you’ve spent nine-hundred years with Archie and I, isn’t that more real than any old apprenticeship that you haven’t been a part of for centuries?”

“I’m opening the bookshop,” Douxie growled, “I’m waiting for Merlin.”

Zoe threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! Fine, you open your bookshop, and wait for your stupid master! I’m staying here at Hextech!” She ran a hand through her bangs. “Gah, Douxie! I love you, but you need to learn to let go of some things, okay? Just… think about it. Give it a few days before you open up that bookshelf. Figure out what you really want, not what you wanted nine-hundred years ago and have been holding onto ever since.” She went back inside, the door slamming behind her.

What he really wanted.

He had a mission. A purpose. Right?

Well, what did he care what the Pale Lady wanted? She hadn’t been seen for centuries, just like Merlin. She’d just left behind cryptic instructions, just like Merlin.

But his parents—he couldn’t just abandon them. And if he was on the winning side of this war, if he kept on Gunmar’s side and delivered the information about Merlin’s plans—if he ever woke up—maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that Zoe and Archie wouldn’t get hurt. That there would be a place next to him for them.

Who was he kidding? They’d never agree to that. He couldn’t have a Gum-Gum victory and his new friends. There had to be something else—a way to get his parents back and protect Zoe and Archie and not lose their friendship.

He had to figure out a way.

In the meantime, he opened up the bookshop.

He kept monster hunting with Zoe and Archie.

He kept working at the café.

All the while, more and more of his skin was turning to stone, blue stone lines meeting pink flesh where Something Had Happened to Hisirdoux, but WHY?! So he kept covering up more and more skin, wearing long sleeves and pants even in the heat, much to Zoe and Archie’s amusement.

And he kept running through plans. But they always came down to choosing between his parents or Zoe and Archie. Volunteer enough information to get his parents out of the Darklands, Zoe and Archie hated him. But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

Then there was the problem of… well, explaining what he was. Could he ever tell Zoe and Archie the truth? If he rescued his parents, it would come out eventually, wouldn’t it? But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

He was set in autopilot, going through the motions of his day while his brain continuously raced to figure out the paradox of How to Not Lose Anyone.

And then he wandered right into a web of dark magic at work. He almost stopped dead in his tracks before forcing himself to continue walking and acting like nothing was wrong. The human trollhunter. Jim. He’d tried to get in closer a few weeks ago, shown up at the school, handed out flyers for the Battle of the Bands. Talked to Jim’s friends. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but the trollhunter was glaring at him.

That magic, though. It wasn’t coming from the trollhunter. It was coming from… Claire. No surprise, she was the shadow magician, but… this felt… different.

And then a voice spoke in his head, slithering and cold.

Stay out of it.

Douxie blinked. Had he just-?

I am your queen, your creator, Morgana, Baba Yaga, the Pale Lady, and I am ordering you to not interfere. The girl is mine.

Douxie gulped. Right. This was happening. Okay. Fine.

Act as though nothing has happened. Your cover is necessary—Merlin may soon return.

Douxie steeled himself and took their orders—he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her, but Morgana wasn’t exactly… doing the best job fitting in. And the whole time, his mind spun and reeled. Had Morgana read his mind all along? Did she know everything he’d struggled with?

Well, don’t think about it now, he told himself, shaking his head.

Should Merlin return, Gunmar awaits in trollmarket. I will guide you to him, my special wizard. Soon, you will no longer have to pretend. You will be free to be yourself.

Morgana’s presence faded from his mind as Claire and Jim left, and Douxie shivered, rubbing his arms.

He’d been chosen.

A mission from the pale lady herself.

It was an honor.

It didn’t feel like an honor. It felt like being singled out, and not in a “oh, you did a good job” kind of way, but more like “a troll born in the darklands? You’ll die in a month” sort of way.

And when they’d told his parents, they’d smiled, and said “wonderful.” They’d said “oh, yes, what an honor.” They’d said that they were “so proud” of “their little son.”

Right. Proud. Honor. Chosen. All of it was pretty words, little lies to cover up a hard truth; that being a changeling wasn’t an honor. That it meant he couldn’t ever be completely part of any world, and that he, Dalmar, would be rejected by both sides. Changelings were called “impure” for a reason.

His parents had said goodbye to Dalmar.

And then he wasn’t Dalmar anymore.

He was Hisirdoux Casperan. “Douxie” for short. He was taken by Dictatious, kept in some part of the darklands he’d never been allowed before (because he wasn’t important, they didn’t care about him, they never WOULD have cared about him if they hadn’t gotten some message from some dead sorceress, he knew that, he knew all of the special treatment now was an ACT and they didn’t care if he lived or died), having his head crammed with random facts about some wizard kid that he didn’t know and didn’t WANT to know, some kid he’d never met with a cushy little life up on the surface world that now he had to pretend to be—no, not pretend, pretending wouldn’t be good enough, he had to be this kid, no pressure or anything. No one called him Dalmar anymore. They kept calling him “Douxie” until he’d gotten used to it—until it became his name.

It would be hard, they told him. Harder than any other changeling’s job, because before, changelings had replaced babies. They didn’t have to impersonate someone with memories, and a personality. They could be themselves, just turn into a blank-slate-baby. But Dalmar—no, Douxie, he was Douxie now—had to be someone he wasn’t.

And that was why he was on the surface now, lurking in the shadows and watching the real Hisirdoux Casperan. Noting how he interacted with others, especially with the wizard girl he’d recently taken up with and, of course, his familiar. Familiar. Da—Douxie held back a laugh. Little did Hisirdoux Casperan know, he was a familiar to TWO creatures.

Well. Not yet. Douxie wasn’t a changeling yet. But he would be. Whenever the elusive and vague “process” was complete.

So he watched Hisirdoux Casperan. Studied him. Learned everything about his behaviors, everything that made him Hisirdoux Casperan, apprentice to Merlin, one of the last remnants of a time long gone.

God, was this guy an idiot.

He bumbled around, making mistakes that didn’t lead to deadly consequences. He stumbled over his spells, doing things quickly and then yelping for his familiar when things went wrong and brooms went flying into his face.

Dalm—Douxie silently seethed. He’d been born in the darklands, with no recollection of the world that Gunmar was so eager to conquer. But now that he was here, here in air that didn’t seem to suffocate you when you breathed, here in a place awash with life instead of decay, a place of glittering lights and exciting noises and smells… he could see why the Gum-Gums were ready to break free of the darklands.

And Hisirdoux Casperan had been BORN here.

He didn’t know how lucky he was.

He took all of this for granted. All of the humans did. They didn’t know what it was like to live in a dying land, where if you weren’t SO careful, you could get eaten, and only the strongest survived.

He’d seen enough. It was time to get this show on the road.

He’d shrunk himself to fit through the fetch, a difficult spell, one that the real Hisirdoux Casperan could probably only dream of. He shrank himself again with a small, satisfied smile. That was something, at least, he held over Hisirdoux Casperan. He’d had no formal training from a great master wizard. But the harshness of magic in the darklands had been a better teacher than some crusty old relic could have ever been.

Dictatious was waiting for him. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” Douxie agreed, “But—Dictatious. You said this mission was important?”

“Deadly so.”

Douxie crossed his arms. “Then I’m not doing it for free. I want a promise. I want you to make sure my parents are taken care of down here.”

“You don’t have parents. They died in a tragic fire where you met your familiar, Archie, leaving you orphaned.”

Douxie bit down a sour reply. “Dictatious. Promise me they’ll be alright.”

The troll rolled all of his eyes. “Very well. We shall look after your parents, as long as you forget they were ever your parents.”

“Deal.” Douxie let out a deep breath. “So. The, uh… process?”

Dictatious gave him a grin that looked just a bit too gleeful. “Hold on to your horns. This is going to hurt.”

Xxx

Hurt was an understatement.

Being ripped to shreds was probably closer to the truth.

Magic, but not his magic, pulsed through him, shattering his skin, splintering his horns, crushing his bones and it hurt like nothing he’d ever felt. No falling off of a ledge or getting hit by a Gum-Gum’s blade could compare to this. Everything squeezed, and pushed and pulled and tore, and it was like every part of him was being ripped up and stuck back together, but all wrong, and it hurt!

Dalmar screamed for his parents, but of course they wouldn’t come, and a cool voice reminded him that he didn’t have any parents.

Everything burned and froze and broke and mended and GOD, what was that oozing out, red and sticky and then it was gone, and he was crumbling into pieces, torn apart by wind and swirling back together into something new, then breaking again, and tearing like a hundred blades doused in poison.

An unearthly, echoing howling was everywhere, and it was him, but not him, and he didn’t even have ears to hear it, but he felt it in his bones, his bones that were being crushed to pulp and remolding and breaking and remolding and breaking and—

Something was oozing out of him again, but it wasn’t red. It was clear and salty. Douxie was on his hands and knees and it was over, thank the pale lady, it was over, and ugly, heaving sobs were tearing out of his new, human chest, and salty water was dripping from his eyes.

“The binding was a success,” Dictatious crowed triumphantly, “Congratulations, Douxie, you are officially a changeling.”

It was horrible. There was so much texture. Everything was so sensitive. The stone beneath his hands was rough and unyielding. The fabric of clothing rubbed against his new (light pink instead of blue—strange) skin, and Douxie winced at the sensation. Ow.

He staggered up to his feet, stumbling around on weird, straight legs, and long feet instead of delicate hooves. Douxie wobbled as he walked, nearly falling over. Dictatious just watched.

“Do you think you’re up to this?”

“I’ve got it,” Douxie snapped, rolling his weird new ankle joints experimentally and kicking his feet. Right. He could do this. He teetered a few more steps. “I’ve got it,” he repeated, walking across the room, “I can do it.”

“Congratulations,” Dictatious said dryly, “Now, there’s only one step—pardon the pun—left.”

Douxie turned towards the fetch, preparing the spell that would shrink him enough to get through. “Kidnap my familiar.”

Xxx

Douxie watched his familiar, waiting for him to be alone long enough to make his move. But Hisirdoux Casperan was rarely alone. He was always with Archie, or that new wizard girl. Was that going to be Douxie’s life, now? Never alone, not for a second?

And then, finally, the moment he was waiting for. Hisirdoux wandered off to go to the bathroom, and Douxie pounced, hitting him with a sleep spell before he knew the changeling was there. He couldn’t do the shrinking spell on anyone but himself—as a few disastrous attempts to shrink a Gum-Gum small enough to get through the fetch had proved. So he was just going to have to entrust his familiar to the Janus order, who claimed that they could yes definitely get the wizard through the fetch.

And sure enough, there were a few changelings and a pack of goblins waiting for him. Hisirdoux Casperan started to wake up as Douxie handed him off to the Order, and he blinked blearily at Douxie.

“Wha…?” Realization seemed to dawn in his eyes, and terror sparked. “No!” he shouted, just as the Order dragged him away.

Douxie shrugged off any uncertainty, turning to get back to Hisirdoux’s friends before they realized anything was off.

Sorry, Hisirdoux Casperan.

Douxie couldn’t stop staring at Zoe. That was her name, the wizard who’d fallen in with Hisirdoux and Archie. She’d only been with them a month, so she hadn’t known the real Hisirdoux—no, he was the real Hisirdoux—for very long.

Douxie told himself that the warm, squishy feelings he got when he looked at her and when she looked at him were just… some kind of connection between himself and his familiar. And, Zoe was fascinating. She’d taught herself magic, just like he had. She’d never had any formal training. But she was very good with lightning, and could conjure her own in a shade of vibrant pink. Very impressive. He could learn a lot about magic from her. Yes. That was it.

“Don’t start drooling,” Archie remarked, hopping up onto the table next to him. Douxie flinched. He was still worried about Archie—Archie had been with Hisirdoux for a long time. If anyone was going to notice any strange behavior, it was him.

“That obvious?”

Archie sat down, giving him an amused look. “She’s a lovely young wizard. Headstrong. Creative. Resourceful. You could certainly do worse.”

Douxie wrinkled his nose. Oh, no, no, no, no. He had a mission. A purpose. He couldn’t get distracted by some silly human courting stuff. “Are you trying to set me up with her?”

“You said it, not me.” Archie rubbed against him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Douxie. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Douxie jumped, a thrill of panic shooting through him. He knew. “What?! What do you mean?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You’ve been melancholy. Gloomy. Downright moody. Look, I know it’s a hard time for you right now.”

Wait. What? “A hard time.”

“Don’t pretend, Douxie. This is right around the anniversary of Kilahead. When you lost Merlin.”

Oh. Oh! Right. He should probably be upset about the loss of his ‘mentor.’ Right. “Yeah,” he said softly, “He… he said he’d come back. He’s supposed to come back. He left his instructions—he’ll come back when there’s a human trollhunter.”

Archie made a complicated sympathetic face. “And… I’m sure there will be one. And he will. But neither of us can say when that will happen. And in the meantime… you need to get your mind off of things. Enjoy life. Take Zoe out on a date.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa! None of Douxie’s training had ever involved any kind of courting scenario! “What?! What would we even—I mean, what would I do?! Where would we go?!”

Archie rolled his eyes. “I imagine somewhere nice. I imagine you’d talk. Probably a little soon for kissing.”

“How would I even ask?!” No, wait! Why was he asking?! He didn’t need to go on a date with Zoe! He didn’t want to go on a date with Zoe!

Right?

“Uh, earth to Hisirdoux Casperan?” Zoe’s voice interrupted them. She waved a hand in front of his face. “You in there, Douxie?”

Douxie shook himself. “Uh—” He made the mistake of looking into Zoe’s blue eyes, and his face heated up. “Zoe! Hey!”

“Hey,” she responded in a slightly-amused tone, “Everything okay?”

“Um. Yes. Fantastic. Wonderful. Everything’s great. You’re great.”

“What?”

“UM,” Douxie cleared his throat. “I was wondering. If maybe. Um. You wanna go somewhere nice?”

Archie snorted, and distanced himself from Douxie. To give them privacy, or to not be in close proximity to what an embarrassment he was, Douxie didn’t know. He nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. “Um. So.”

“You wanna go out together?”

Douxie nodded. “Like, without Archie,” he clarified.

“Wow, I didn’t know he could bear to be parted from you.” Zoe grinned and nudged him. “Where did you have in mind?”

Xxx

“C’mon!”

Zoe swiped at a cobweb as Douxie led her up a rickety staircase in an abandoned church. “This is your idea of nice?”

Douxie led her up to the old belfry (the bell long gone) where he’d spent nights while Hisirdoux Casperan was asleep, watching the city. He sat on the edge, feet dangling over the city below. After a second, Zoe joined him. “What are we doing here?”

He bumped her shoulder with his own. “The lights. You can see all of the city lights, glittering like tiny stars down there.” For once, his words didn’t slip over themselves when he talked to her. “Human ingenuity—they found a way to light up the night, even without magic. Isn’t that amazing?”

“I guess?”

Douxie stared at the lights, remembering the first time he’d ever seen them. It had been blinding. “You ever think about what the world would be like without that? All that light, I mean. I think we just sort of take it for granted, but if the light were to disappear, where would that leave us? Light is so important for everything we do—we’d be lost without it.”

Zoe’s gaze softened as she scooted closer, looking down at the lights. “I guess I never thought about it that way.”

Most people didn’t. But Douxie had lived in the Darklands—he couldn’t ever take the lights for granted, not after he’d lived so long without them. So many had lived their lives without them, down there. Like his parents. Douxie felt a tear trickle down his face, and he scrubbed at it. He missed them. His parents. He didn’t miss the Darklands—he much preferred to be up here, with the lights and the clear air and—and alright, Zoe. But he did miss his family, even if they had given him up. Maybe they’d given him up and let him become a changeling so that he could experience this world, too. Maybe they hadn’t wanted him to live his life out in the Darklands, even if it meant letting him go. Maybe they hadn’t just given in to the pressure of the Gum-Gums. Maybe they’d given him up to help him.

His shoulders started to shake, and Zoe put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Just… a bit homesick, I guess,” Douxie sniffed.

“You miss Camelot,” she guessed, “And Merlin? I get it. I miss my home, too.”

“’s not the place so much, it’s just…”

“The feeling,” Zoe finished, “The people. The memories you made there.”

“Yeah.” She knew exactly how he felt.

Zoe leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. “The lights are nice,” she said, her fingers entwining with his, “This is nice. We should do it again. Just us.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Like, without Archie.”

Douxie’s heart gave a little stutter in his chest. “Nice,” he echoed. Next time he’d bring food, or at least something to drink—those stairs could be a hike.

No. Wait. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do that! He was getting distracted, torn away from his mission. He couldn’t waste time thinking about dates!

Well. Who knew when Merlin would wake up? Like Archie had said, it could be years, centuries even.

He had time.

Xxx

Years passed in a series of stolen moments, in new places, all of them home with the people and the memories. Gentle forehead kisses, practice sparring that usually ended up with him twitching on the ground from pink lightning, only for a laughing Zoe to pull him back up. Devouring all of Merlin’s old books while Archie commented that he was glad Douxie had found a love of reading, practicing every spell he could while his familiar’s familiar watched in approval.

Guilt in the stolen moments that this was someone else’s life that he’d stolen, that Archie and Zoe were being so kind to him when he wasn’t the person they thought he was. Then guilt being driven away by another happy moment, until after a while he stopped feeling guilt at all.

Sleepy moments in front of a fire with a warm bundle of purring fur on his lap and a warm hand in his and a warm head on his shoulder.

Awestruck moments in some remote place, looking at lights dancing in the sky or lightning, regular lightning, lighting up the inside of a cloud.

Dying a shock of his bangs bright blue as Zoe did her whole head pink—it was his form, his body, and it was time he claimed it.

Frightened moments running from monsters that he and Zoe had sworn they could handle, Archie, really, they weren’t babies.

Victorious moments standing over those same monsters while proclaiming that they’d never had a doubt, and this had been the plan all along.

So many moments as Douxie.

Hadn’t he been someone else, once?

Someone who hadn’t been this happy, someone who’d struggled to just survive, let alone thrive?

That was so long ago. He couldn’t remember who that person was.

There’d been some… mission?

What had been his name?

And then Zoe or Archie would call “Douxie!” and he’d respond immediately because that was him, that was his name, that was who he was. And doubts and shadows of doubts and some past life edging in would disappear as he ran into the sun because Douxie was who he was. Who he’d always been. Who he’d never stop being.

It was a small patch on his knee, like a scrape, but it wasn’t a scrape. It was stone. Blue stone.

And suddenly, worries and anxieties he hadn’t felt for CENTURIES came flooding back in a rush.

What if they saw?

What if they found out?

What if they realized that he wasn’t the real Hisirdoux?!

And now, now there were new anxieties, things he hadn’t worried about centuries ago.

What if they hated him?

What if they turned him away?

What if they never wanted to see him again?

What if Zoe’s face curled up in disgust as she realized she’d been kissing a troll mouth. Worse, a changeling mouth?

What was going on?! Why, why now, after centuries of no problems, was he turning to stone? He hadn’t once transformed back to his troll form—what if he was supposed to do that every so often, or it would start to leak through?

There had to be someone he could contact to find out. The Janus order—they’d know. Right?

So he snuck out.

When Archie’s snoring started, and Zoe’s breathing slowed down to the little puffs he knew meant she was deep in dreamland.

Douxie felt a weird ache in his chest at the thought of not hearing those little sounds again. He needed to fix this problem. Now. Before it spread.

So he crept through the streets, almost certain that he’d seen a bar with a sign that had two faces on it. Two faces. The Janus order. It was worth a shot, right?

So he went inside. There was only one solitary bar girl, and she gave him an odd glance. “Sorry. We’re closed tonight, kiddo. Reserved.”

“Gunmar,” he blurted. He didn’t know any changeling code, because that wasn’t one of the things Dictatious—Dictatious, he hadn’t thought about the many-eyed troll for so long—had told him. So he just blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

The bar girl’s eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry. What’s the problem?”

“I’m turning to stone,” Douxie babbled, “I’m turning into stone, but I’m not trying to transform, it just happened, and I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Ooookay, you’re obviously new to this. Slow down. Show me.”

Douxie rolled up his pant leg to show her the blue stone spot on his knee. “Why’s it doing that?!”

She peered closely at it. “If I had to guess? I’d say your familiar scraped a knee. Weird. Normally the goblins take such good care of them.”

Douxie grabbed her sleeve as she turned to go. “How do I find out?”

She blinked at him. “Wow. You really don’t know anything about being a changeling, huh? Okay. Look. You can check in on your familiar any time you like. You just gotta.” She screwed her face up, made a retching noise, and spat at a mirror. Douxie jumped back.

“That’s disgusting!”

“Nah, look!”

Douxie steeled himself to look at the glob of spit on the mirror, and saw that it had transformed into an image of a little baby girl, asleep in a crib. “That’s…”

“My familiar. Cute little thing, isn’t she?” The image faded away. “You try.”

Douxie’s spitting wasn’t nearly as impressive as hers, but the image appeared. Hisirdoux was in a stasis trap, a bloody scrape on his knee. “That’s him!”

“An adult? Wow. You are a weird little changeling, aren’t you?”

“I wonder what happened…”

“Well, usually the familiars are babies. They don’t go anywhere. Yours probably just got loose, and fell before they got control of him again. If it’s really bothering you…” The changeling looked around. “Go to America. Arcadia Oaks. The leader of the Order lives there, Waltholomew Stricklander. He might be able to figure out what’s going on. Watch out, though, there’s a troll colony living there, and it is the homeplace of the trollhunter. Good luck.”

Douxie nodded and slipped away, creeping back inside the house he shared with Archie and Zoe before they woke up. It was just one scraped knee—like the changeling bar girl had said, it was probably just a problem with doing the sleeping spell on someone a little older. Nothing to worry about.

Until he woke up with thick lines of stone lashed across his chest.

No. No, no, no, no!

Douxie touched the stone lines delicately. They were just the right distance apart for a set of Gum-Gum claws. He yanked a shirt over his head, fast before Zoe or Archie saw. This was getting out of hand. He needed to get in contact with Stricklander.

Xxx

“America?” Archie asked, sounding slightly-disgusted, “Why America?”

Zoe grabbed his hand. “New York?! I’ve heard things about New York—we could be vigilantes! Do you know the crime rates there, Douxie? And we have to go to at least one rock concert, promise me!”

“We’re already vigilantes,” Douxie laughed, “Just the magical kind. What, you want to add muggers to our resume? No, not New York. I’ve got somewhere else in mind. Arcadia Oaks. Supposedly, it has a troll colony. And where there’s a colony of trolls, there’s bound to be… pest problems.” He gave Zoe’s hand a squeeze, some of her excitement leeching into him. And it was exciting! Leaving Europe for a totally new continent? Once he got this whole familiar thing sorted out, there wasn’t any reason not to have fun. “But I promise that we will go to New York and see a rock concert first.”

“Yessssss!”

Xxx

“Okay. Our first order of business ought to be looking for stable employment and—”

Douxie and Zoe both ignored Archie, hopping off of the bus and tearing around the city. “It’s so sunny here,” Zoe complained, “It’s like Italy all over again!”

“Oh, you liked Italy,” Douxie replied, “It is a bit bright, but—”

“Hey! What are you two kids doing out of school?!”

Douxie jumped as a police officer approached them. “Oh—we’re… new in town?”

The officer snorted. “I can tell.”

“I’m an adult. Actually.” Zoe offered, “I don’t have to be in school.” She pulled out an ID—when had she gotten a driver’s license?!

The officer squinted at it, then shrugged. “Alright, Miss Zoe, you’re off the hook. What about Skippy here?” He jabbed a thumb at Douxie.

“Wha—Skippy?!”

“Him?” Zoe said with a grin. “Oh, no. He’s a minor. Tiny little baby. Ship him off to school.”

The officer nodded, turning to Douxie. “And which school are you enrolled in?”

“Uhhhhh Aaarcaaadia Oaaaksss…. Academy?” Douxie tried, shooting Zoe a dirty look.

“Haven’t gotten your uniform yet? Alright, come on, in the squad car, I’ll take you to school. And you, Miss Zoe, try to be a better influence on him, will you?”

The officer dragged Douxie into the car, and Douxie mouthed “I’ll kill you” at a snickering Zoe. Actually, though, this was a good opportunity, while he was separated. “Hey, do you know anyone named Waltholomew Stricklander?” he asked the cop as he drove through the streets.

“No. Odd name. Closest we’ve got is a Walter Strickler. Teaches at the other school. Why?”

“Uhm. Just… looking for an old family friend. Thanks anyway.” Just his luck that there really was an Arcadia Oaks Academy, he thought gloomily as the car pulled into a school. He got marched to the principal’s office.

“Are you missing a new student? Possibly an exchange student?”

Right. The principal would say no, he’d make a getaway, and then he’d hunt Zoe down and throw her into the nearest body of water.

“As a matter of fact, we are! We didn’t have time to get his uniform, but…” A schedule, a map, and a stack of books was thrust into Douxie’s hands. “You should be in Calculus right now, young man.”

No way! Seriously? Douxie gave him his best apologetic grin. “Yes sir!”

Great. Now he just had to figure out what calculus was.

Douxie would have bolted, but the cop was watching him all the way to the classroom, so he edged inside. The door creaked far more than he thought was necessary, and the teacher turned to face him.

“May I help you?”

Douxie brushed his bangs back behind his ears nervously. “Um. Hello? I’m… new here?”

“Ahhhh, the transfer student! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Heh. Well, try telling the cops that.”

“Hm, yes. Set your things down, and then why don’t you come up to the board and fill in the radian coordinates on this unit circle!”

Douxie could speak elvish, orcish, trollish, a number of human languages, and decipher wizard code, but he didn’t have any idea what she’d just said. He scooted ever-so-slowly to the back of the classroom and set his books down, then shuffled to the front of the classroom, taking the marker from the teacher like it was a poisonous snake. The giant circle covered in indecipherable markings loomed up at him. He hesitantly wrote a 2 on one of the blank spaces, earning a snort from someone in the front row. He ignored them and kept writing random numbers in the blanks. More snickers made his ears burn, and finally he capped the marker and set it down.

“Alright, class, hands up if you think he’s right.”

No hands went up.

“Sit back down, please.”

Douxie trudged back to his seat in what was possibly the most shameful walk of his entire life while the teacher spouted more calculus nonsense that went over his head. He tried to pay attention for a bit—he really did—but it became pretty obvious pretty fast that he was missing about 4 years worth of previous math that he should know in order to understand this, so he put his head down on the desk, praying for it all to end.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that punk’s dead?” someone else in the back hissed to him with a snicker, “Where’s your uniform?”

“Hank, shut up!” someone else responded, “I’m pretty sure he’s one of the public school kids sneaking in! His accent is so obviously faked!”

“My accent is not—” Douxie shook his head. What did it matter? He was a centuries old magician who knew arcane secrets of the universe that the Calculus teacher could never hope to understand. The opinion of a few regular human teenagers shouldn’t have mattered.

It shouldn’t have.

At lunch, he hopped the fence and ran for it, beelining for the public school. The academy kids whooped and cheered as he ran away. Excited that something interesting was happening? Or glad that he in particular was leaving? Not that it mattered to him.

He had to check in on this Walter Strickler, just in case. And sure enough, when he peered in the office windows, he could spot magical items lying about with regular things. Douxie cracked open the window and slipped inside. Wow. This guy really did have quite the collection of magic books. It wouldn’t hurt to read a few while he was waiting, would it?

He was halfway through his third book and the last school bell had rung for the day when he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. He hastily shoved the books back in their spots and waited, suddenly realizing that if Walter Strickler wasn’t a changeling, he was going to have to talk his way out of a nasty breaking and entering situation.

But when the door did open, Douxie could recognize the changeling in him—it was something about the way he carried himself, like he had centuries of experience.

“Hey there,” Douxie said casually, “Got a little changeling question for you.”

Strickler didn’t seem too concerned by his presence, fiddling with a pen. “You are drawing far too much attention to yourself. Getting dragged off by the police? Skipping school? And that accent-! What kind of a sad excuse for a changeling are you?”

“No one exactly gave me a crash course in being a changeling!” Douxie protested, “And besides, I’m a changeling masquerading as a wizard masquerading as a human. I think I’m doing pretty well, all things considered!”

“The special assignment. Hisirdoux. I thought you were a myth. What with having no way of contacting you and all.”

“Uh—well—yeah. Not the point. I’ve got a bit of a situation. My familiar seems to keep injuring himself somehow? I want to contact Dictatious. Make sure everything is alright.”

Strickler snapped the pen shut. “Contact the darklands?!”

“Uh… yeah?”

“No one can do that! Do you think I’d be searching tirelessly for the eyestone if I could simply ring for Gunmar on the telephone?!”

“How come? Changelings seem to get in and out pretty easily.”

“It’s not the same. I’m afraid I cannot help you—it may be frustrating, but you will simply have to operate on less than ideal information. And, ah, Hisirdoux? Do try not to draw any more attention to yourself.”

Xxx

“You are not funny,” Douxie grumbled as he pushed open the door to some kind of tech shop.

Zoe grinned, hopping off of her place on a bench and going on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Awww, did someone not have a good day at school?

“No kisses. According to you, I’m a minor and you’re an adult.”

“Don’t be irritated at Zoe,” Archie piped up, “I’m the one who enrolled you in school.”

“You did what?!”

“There are things I cannot teach you, Douxie!”

“Like calculus?! Get real, Arch, I’m never going to need calculus! Besides, when am I going to have the time?! I’ll need a job, and—wait a second, why are you talking in here?”

“Oh, this place?” Zoe said affectionately, “This is run by hedge wizards. Aaaaand there’s no customers at the moment, so we’re good. I have a job here now, actually. They’ll be able to use more money for their magical projects now that they won’t be paying an electric bill anymore.”

“Okay. Fantastic. School, Archie?!”

“Just stick it out for a year, alright? You’re listed as a senior, so you’ll graduate, and you can do whatever you want after that.”

“Assuming I can graduate! I don’t know any of this stuff, Arch! I’m going to fail everything!”