#ifritazar

And it somehow did, too. When the dragon-knight was around and told her how to concentrate, it worked. They had also taken to my approach.

Concentrating on themselves. The portal-theory was… strange.

So it was better to forget it right away. No problem.

Wielding my own power certainly had a much different feeling to it.

And when I concentrated a little harder, I could even feel the fire.

It was just a matter of never concentrating on it before. It was too… natural.

A little bit like tying my shoelaces, I assume. If I try to do that with more concentration, it didn’t work, but IF I did I understood how it held together… and I could make better knots in general.

So… magic is like tying ropes.

…

… my own book about understanding magic probably still had some ways to go.

 But so had the princess.

She was still a sceptic at heart.

From not believing in magic to not believing in her own magic the full array was present. And It changed from day to day. Sir Israfil put a hand on my shoulder and told me I should have patience, her whole world was built with the knowledge that magic didn’t exist. A fundamental taken away is not pleasant.

I knew that.

It was simply frustrating.

She was a true sceptic.

After WEEKS of turning pages and once again conjuring up water with the blue dragons help – she was there most of the time now, apparently it beat sitting around outside – she once again flipped everything up. And declared it nonsense.

I mean… suspicion was all fine and good, denial is something everyone indulges in from time to time… but… she doubted my fire.

It…

I couldn’t even explain it. I was offended, really.

On a deeper level that I can’t even describe. Calling my fire ‘fake’ just… rubbed me entirely the wrong way. And I retreated to my room that day.

When I cm back the next day, her room was under water. And she said she maybe actually had some magic in her.

The knight took care of the waterlogged mess while we breakfasted.

 So that’s how our days went… getting up, having breakfast – the knight or dragon sometimes disappeared to gather more supplies -, meditating on magic, consulting the books and gathering more skill.

And not getting any significant lesson, since the princess MIGHT be able o do SOME things by then, but it… didn’t come all that natural.

I could only hope there would be any progress sooner or later.

The headache was gone as well.

It felt… colder than last time, though.

Sir Israfil was still sitting perfectly straight, but this time, he was writing.

And wearing… glasses.

I blinked at the foreign object on his face, I frowned a little.

So, he was apparently far-sighted. Who would have thought.

He put the book to the side when he had finished whatever thought he had been occupied with and piled the glasses on the discarded book.

“Good morning”, he said, smiling at me, “You’ve been awake for five minutes now, how are you feeling?”

“Uh… fine, actually”, much better than the drugged-out state I was in before I slept, that was for certain.

“Really? Not too hot? Too cold?”, he continued scratching my ears, which was… less distracting than last time, I thought.

It was colder. No doubt about it. But if I checked my body: “… it’s fine, actually. A little cooler than usual. But… generally fine”

He hummed. And moved his hand a little. And I twitched: “Hey!”, what did he do?! It felt like something stole my breath. Not… dangerous, but… it was weird to describe, “Stop that!”

He returned to scratching and nodded: “Your flame is… just fed enough. You get just enough energy. Not much to spare. With the portal that is open right now. In your fireplace”, he pointed there.

It was… blubbering less.

Still didn’t look very inviting.

“So… I… will feel… normal… like that?”, that was the goal, right?

He frowned, then shook his head and nodded.

…what.

“Yes. Yes, you will feel ‘normal’ like that, I don’t think you will be overwhelmed like this. But… it’s not a permanent state. You are… less than ideally supplied with energy. A simple touch to your flame should not do anything to you. But you are not in danger to become as sluggish as before. So… now is the time to let you open a portal of your own. And see if we can teach you to regulate how much it is opened. So, you have a portable supply in this form. It’s… probably for the best until we have an idea to let you get your glamour to properly function again”, he nodded.

“So… I can experiment with… states of energy, yes?”, did I get that right?

“Mmmh… yeah, yeah, that’s the plan”, he twirled a strand of hair around a finger.

“Okay, then… how do I open a portal?”, which was probably the first step.

Best if we did start immediately. I… would like a normal life back.

“You take your catalyst… and open it. And since you are your own catalyst, that’s an easy one”, he smiled.

He said I partially belonged there because of my dad – still a weird thought – so fair enough: “… alright. So… how?”

He looked at me, frowned a little… and then said: “You… concentrate on the catalyst and… open it”

“… well, you said that already. How?”

He frowned a little deeper… then said: “Concentrate”, pointed two fingers at me, “… and open”, and moved them to the side.

There was a small rip in the world. Flames everywhere. Extreme heat came from it.

“… then either bind or drop it”, then he pointed to the ceiling. “This was dropping it… the fireplace is the other example. Easy”

I still had after-images of white-hot-glowing stones in my mind.

It… was a bit mindblowing.

“Ah… o…kay. How?”

“You just… do”, he wrinkled his nose.

‘Dazed’ was the proper description for me at every moment.

The glamour might be necessary, as hard to admit as that was. I could not properly function like this.

I started again when I noticed fingers on my forehead.

The knight looked down at me with a little concern in his eyes: “You are very distracted”, he stated.

Which… I frowned and raised an eyebrow: “Really?!”

I felt like a child immediately after. The last time someone had felt my temperature with cool hands… probably fell in that time, too. Ugh.

“… I need to go to the library. Figure something out about this. This glamour and the situation. Books help”, books help with everything.

When I tried to return to cleaning up the table I noticed my wrist was still captured, a thumb on my pulse, moving slightly.

I stared at that, until the knight attached to the thumb started to hum.

There was a complentative expression on his face, looking where I had been looking before. Still handsome, that expression.

Then he tilted his head and looked me in the eye: “You really did not work much with magic before, mh?”

It was strange, being looked at directly. The knight felt even less human than usual, like that.

Without thinking about it, I tapped his nose.

He went slightly cross-eyed and looked surprised, like any proper human should, so that helped, and I laughed, my wrist finally released.

When he touched his nose, I snickered a little more.

“This… was not an answer”, which was a fact he stated.

“Nope, it was not”, which was another one.

“Mh. I will… conclude you did not have excessive contact with it. Because you are acting… not like you usually would”, which is another truth.

“… but I have less magic now. You said. Glamour dispelled and everything”, which was another fact. I did not know if there was a point to that fact. Because I didn’t know why he even said what he had said, but we were stating facts. So, it fit in the line.

It earned me a small smile. Which was a good.

“True, you are right”, he nodded and looked me in the eye. As if I was slow.

Or inebriated. I was not. I still remembered ‘inebriated’ was a word.

So, I frowned at him.

“That absence now allows for other magic to come to you now. It takes its place. You are a very magical being, after all”, I was pretty sure it did not work that way. But okay. Okay.

… maybe I was a little inebriated.

… ‘inebriated’ was a strange word, if you thought about it for a longer time.

“-like a sixth sense. Something you are born with, but didn’t use – much - until now, it’s a bit overwhelming, I suppose”, he looked somewhat concerned again, all tilty-faced.

I had no idea how that sentence had started. I hoped I hadn’t missed too much.

It seemed like he wanted an answer, though, so I said: “Overwhelmed… got it”, I paused for a second, looking through the room, and then nodded: “Seems right”.

He nodded, too: “So you do need the connection to your world, but you also get overwhelmed by it. Yes?”

I studied his eyelashes. They were pretty long.

Then I looked at the pupils and said: “… yeh”

He looked concerned again. Somewhat.

Then put a hand on my head: “You know what, we’ll let you sleep this off. And in the morning… we’ll see how it goes with a… lesser dose of energy. How does that sound?”

“…”, I had heard the words. Comprehension was a little more difficult. I made an unhappy face.

He ruffled my hair. Probably through my flame and everything.

“Mnh”

He sighed and swept me off my feet.

That had happened before, hadn’t it?

… I clung less for dear life than before.

Every movement looked like it was an effort not to… destroy the whole building.

And that building was a castle, so it was saying something.

She was made of searing heat.

I suddenly very clearly understood how the portal feeds me and how Lady Michelle would be a replacement for such a portal.

I almost melted under her influence.

It was ridiculously intense and I didn’t really know what to do.

“…was supposed to turn you back! No one can be trusted to do anything around here”

I blinked and stared at the princess. Just for a second. Because she didn’t seem too important right now. Even if she still was a real, proper princess. I… couldn’t bring myself to care.

The slight irritation at least brought me back to reality. I stirred the stew.

And tried. It was… spicy. Just the right amount of spicy, but…

“Lady Michelle, would you like to try?”, I held up the spoon and she tapped over to me, claws clicking on the floor just like mine do, tail swivelling from side to side: “It would be my pleasure”, she says, and I had not noticed her voice up to now. It was almost like she spoke directly into my head.

I shuddered. It… was a little much, but it felt… good. Somehow.

I believe I blushed.

She licked the spoon.

Then looked at the pot with a judging expression… and shrugged: “Sufficient. Good stew”, and sat down at the table.

I let go of my breath then.

If she agreed, it will be perfectly fine.

And I brought the pot to the table, filling a bowl for everyone.

The princess said… a lot of things. And my knight answered, too. I… mostly ignored it.

Lady Michelle ate. And thanked me afterwards.

…

It was unreasonable how happy this made me.

Truly unreasonable.

And I might have to do something about that.

The whole day was very twitchy.

And filled with more emotions than I could handle in one day.

So… even if Sir Israfil thought I should do it myself… maybe a little bit of help would be… good. Otherwise I might not be able to concentrate enough to learn anything, especially when she patted my head.

Puddle-alike feelings were not bad per se, but a dragon was the wrong reason to feel them.

Especially since I was not interested.

Just… when they both had left the room, I placed my forehead on the table and groaned.

No one was there.

As fragrant as the stew was, it apparently had not attracted anyone from the castle and here I stood. And quivered a little bit.

I'd blame it on the onions. It's all the onions fault.

Which made the arm around me even more surprising. I was pulled around and against the knight. Who has thankfully removed the knife from his hand. And patted me on my back now.

“Shush. You'll worry everyone. The smoke is all over the floor already,” he said and held me a little tighter.

I let a breath go.

And noticed... actual smoke on the floor. It was no weird idiom like “Press the sheep,” where I was... not supposed to do it, but likely would anyway...

“… uh,” I looked up. The smoke HAD come from my flame. It had become... sooty, apparently. Got better by the second, tough.

So... my flame was a mood indicator.

“... this is bad,” I mumbled into his – very soft – hair.

“It's not, but it will take some getting used to. Fire beings are usually... not very good at deception,” he continued to pat my back, making some soothing motions.

“Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrm,” it sounded like a purr again.

We stayed like this until the stew needed to be stirred.

Then Sir Israfil went to get the dragon and the princess of the castle.

I tried to regain my composure during that time.

But when the door opened and the three of them came in, most thoughts were kind of gone.

And I stared at the dragon.

She smiled at me for a second, too!

Which of course entailed tiny hands in other people's tiny mouths and eyes.

And lots of crying.

… I won. And got a spoonful of stew. At least this time. And had demanded more of exactly this spicy piece of goodness.

I opened my eyes again.

“Thank you...,” I turned to him, properly and...

… noticed he was cutting apart the ox with swift, sure swipes of his blade. Cutting off the skin as well.

He was fairly... good at that.

I suppose that was actually what a knight was supposed to be able to do.

… I apparently repeated myself in my own mind when someone was effortlessly tearing apart flesh from skin.

I decided not to think of the reasons for that.

But instead: “... what? You said...?”

“Which pieces do you want?,” he smiled at me. And still cut.

“Ah... I want to make... stew. So... take the good parts and store them, just... some chuck, please. A little more than usual, I can marinate the rest,” I nodded at him and started to get the other ingredients from the storage compartment.

And a quick check showed none of the potatoes had sprouted. So either the knight truly hadn't been gone for that long... or our storage system was more impressive than I thought.

Ah well. I took my time to cut everything, with the paws it was a little harder. The knife was easier than a pen, though.

Every two minutes I watched how the ox slowly disappeared into heaps of bone, meat and skin.

It looked like he would use the skin as well.

Inspected it, too.

The question 'how do you know all that stuff?!' wanted to get out more and more, but... simply working like this – with the smells and noises surrounding me – was enough. It kind of filled my senses.

Everything was a bit sharper and... better able to occupy my mind.

For now... I wriggled my tail.

And cooked.

It might take a while.

The other inhabitants of the castle might be lured here by the aroma in the meantime.

But in the very same moment I looked to aim, my body clamped up and very firmly shut that down. In all honesty, my hair raised a little.

Something told me it would be a terrible idea.

When he looked back to see where I was, I might have shrunk back a little, since he interrupted his “You comi-,” with an “oh”.

He looked a little sad-confused before he came back to offer me a hand to get up.

The feeling was gone. And my ears moved back up.

I... hadn't realised I'd flattened them. Hadn't even really noticed that I could flatten them, but... there we were. I felt them with my fingers.

They are actually pretty big. And twitchy.

That... really was a change I had not yet registered properly. I had been a little out of it, it seemed.

But now I stood, the knight watching me intently.

He hadn't watched me like that before, I think.

Then I frowned.

I was taller.

Like... not as tall as the other man, but... when I stretched I was almost as tall. And stretch I did.

He smiled a bit indulgently and then moved indicated the kitchen as a destination, with a tilt of his head: “Food?”

“Ah... I suppose,” and I walked.

A lot more aware. With those... more massive arms I did walk a little hunched. Maybe because I had a tiny tail now as well. A tiny one. Bushy and tiny. It was odd.

But at least my legs worked the normal way.

Except for the clicking of claws on the floor. Tiny clicking noises every time I made a step.

I even felt it right up my spine.

Not unpleasantly so, but I had... expectations on the ground.

Maybe Ifrit's were one of those races with an inherited memory.

When I asked, Sir Israfil said “Maybe,” with a little shrug.

Which once again made me question how his knowledge came to be. He knows how Ifrits like their roast in every city of their country, but not if they have inherited memory.

He ignored my slight frown and handed me a pitcher of water, then: “Drink up”

I stared at it: “... that's... like... three liters”

“Yes, and now drink up. You won't feel better, but I guarantee you you won't feel worse either”

And so, I shrugged as well. If he insisted...

I just... started to gulp it down.

It felt pretty much like nothing.

Weird.

Really weird.

But then it was empty.

Some things might be a little strange to get used to.

“And that is why you need to make sure to drink, alright?”

“... alright,” and... well... why not. It's not... making me feel worse either.

Hrm.

“So... what's for dinner, then?,” I asked, because I cooked what he or Lady Michelle brought me, “I think the princess might want to eat something... I... somehow neglected my duties”

“She is fine, do not worry. I got ox. And... ah... the market had a few traders from outside. You.... think you can work with it?

He handed me a box. I opened it. And a very familiar smell came over me.

And now that he said it... I... couldn't exactly remember when I last drank something.

No thirst either.

He tapped my nose – it was a much flatter nose now – and said: “Don't forget, it helps to ground you to this world as well. You are not an Ifrit. Not completely. So take care of yourself, mh?”

My nose wrinkled. And I sneezed, hair all over the place.

Sir Israfil laughed and, with a 'C'mere', pulled my head onto a pillow completely on his lap and started taking apart my hair.

And then he just... talked. About how an Ifrit – a kind of djinn – was associated with fire and big cats – mostly tigers and lions – and display some behaviours of theirs. Mostly moodiness and the ability to sneak. They are usually proud beings. Their ritual weapon – if they chose one – was the scimitar, but are highly skilled in general with bladed, curved weapons. It usually complimented their fighting style well.

A pure Ifrit was capable of living without a body. Which was horrifying, thinking about it. The advantages of the body he listed afterwards were... uh... somewhat reassuring me. None of my ancestors was going to force me to this.

He also told me that I might be hungry for coal and wood. I should only eat it if I was REALLY hungry for it, please. Just 'trying it out' might end badly. But if I really wanted, I should go for it.

I looked over at the fireplace... and wood was still stacked next to it and... ah... it didn't look particularly appetizing, so I might just... not.

He went on about the different parts of the land of Ifrits that I... could not enter right now.

Customs, cities, humour, architecture, culture, weather and general shape of communities. So there were loners and people that sought out groups and people that liked to live in smaller families, so... that was a lot like humans.

“The only thing they pretty much all have in common is their affinity for touches... so... if you feel somewhat touchstarved or really irritated after a while, you need to get your skin ruffled. Or hair. Or anything. Just contact will be important for you then, alright?,” he hadn't inched away either, from my rolled-around-him position.

So my race was naturally affectionate. Well, I could somewhat attest to that with people I liked. Somewhat.

I.... took it as a good reason to curl tighter around him: “... so that's why you let me lay all over you? Because of my health?”

“Oh, well,” he frowned slightly, “... well... it IS good for you. But... I wouldn't mind either way, you simply assumed this position after you slept in with me around”

This information... I'd keep. But, since he said that...

“Ah... do I... actually... burn you?,” I pulled the flame on my head slightly away... and he put it down again, rubbing my horn in retaliation. Which... was a strange feeling.

“No. As long as you don't want to burn people, it won't. Really. With the exception of fear or panic. Strong emotions,” he nodded.

And I... blushed a little... and looked away.

He tilted his head: “... what is it?”

“.... strong... emotions?,” I raised a brow.

“Yes?,” that tiny confused frown was back.

“What about... you know...”

He looked at me for a few seconds, and then a few more, and when I took a breath to explain, he said: “OH, copulating. Ah. Usually... not, no. It'd be a case for study, but I'm fairly certain it's fine. Lesser exertive actions don't do anything”

I shoved the thought of volunteering for certain studies down. Deep down. And nodded. I... somewhow wanted to move a little.

“... a bite to eat for now? you look restless...”

Well. If he insisted.

I did get a little hungry.