Mouth dry, Amina peered up at Zephyrine. Rising sunlight poured through the window's sandbrick-lined gap and doused her in glittering gold. The shadow she cast was faint, blurred at the edges by her dress's fibrous material, half glancing off the polished floorboards and half shading Amina's face. Curled into the chair, she couldn't help but feel small.

She made an effort to clear her throat. "Um, would you rather sit down instead?" The seat groaned as she leaned forward, toes touching the ground, prepared to launch her upright.

Zephyrine didn't take her eyes off the view outside. "I asked you to sit."

"Yes, but..." Amina's tongue traversed her mouth. "You tower over me. It feels awkward."

The tease of Zephyrine's laugh was strange. It danced, swaying from note to note above Amina's head in a chiming rhythm, but it didn't feel mocking. Deeper thought speckled its undertone. Not unpleasant, but eerie, somewhat. The back of her neck prickled.

"Awkward is an imaginary concept." Rubies gleaming amid her braids, Zephyrine turned to offer a smile. "We conjure it in great clouds within our minds and let it control us often, but it's never real."

A simple 'no' would have sufficed, but Amina nodded along, shoulders stiff. She wasn't used to being spoken to in riddles. Isra could dance around a point on occasion in an attempt to teach a lesson, but she would've despised this curvaceous, winding stroll of words. They often tended to make the speaker sound too smart and lose the listener partway through.

Graceful as flowing, blood-coloured water, Zephyrine moved around her, skirts rippling as she came to a stop behind Amina's seat. When Amina craned her neck to look up at her, gentle, bejewelled fingers captured her chin and repositioned it to angle her gaze towards the window. "Look out there. What do you see?"

With little other choice, Amina looked. Against a backdrop of azure sky that bled golden light, a maze of sandbrick stared back at her, heaped into the form of the neighbouring house and the terrace that stretched beyond. Loose sand skittered around the ankles of a passing worker, his cart wearing round-edged grooves into the path. The temple's triangular point poked the horizon somewhere off to the left. In the early morning, Tehazihbith shed its monochrome skin and twisted the sun and shadows into a fresh array of colours, the yellows and ambers so numerous she hardly cared that other colours existed.

A pretty view, but not one unfamiliar or particularly special. She fought a frown. "The... street?"

A soft chuckle drifted from above, and she gritted her teeth. She didn't like this guessing game.

"And what does that street belong to?" Zephyrine asked.

Amina shrugged. "Our city?"

"That's right." Much to her relief, the grip on her chin fell away as Zephyrine leaned against the chair's backrest, the long, loose end of her sleeve tickling Amina's arm. Her gaze reflected the golden view, painted anew by sparks of wonder. "Our city, so full of prosperity, basking in the sun's perfect glow." Her words fell soft and adventurous, echoes sprawling in their wake. Their dance had a romantic edge. "Do you believe Tehazihbith is perfect, Amina?"

If there was some kind of romance between Zephyrine and her own voice, Amina was playing third wheel. Frustration bubbled up her throat, and she could no longer resist a sigh. "Not to be rude, but is there going to be a point to all these questions?"

Amusement formed the shine of Zephyrine's glance. Unsure, Amina met her gaze, hoping her pursed lips didn't look like a pout. She expected to earn a scolding for speaking out of turn, but Zephyrine didn't look particularly annoyed.

A beat of silence lingered, punctuated only by that glinting stare, before her eyes turned back to the window. "I only invite you to think, Amina. Humour me, for the moment. Is it perfect?"

Reluctantly, Amina made herself mull over the question, eyes raking again over the twirling light and sand. A gust of wind swept the scenery in pale, curling arcs. "Of course it's perfect," she said. "That's the whole idea, isn't it? The Nameless One says so."

"But do you believe it?"

"Yes." That response was instinct, surprisingly easy. "If I didn't believe in our god's word, there'd be no point to anything." That word defined all a mage was, woven in every song she heard in the dust when she practised her talents. It was her life, her future, everything. She'd trained under that belief for as long as she could remember.

"This is a test, right?" she added. "That's obviously what you want me to say."

Zephyrine hummed. "It would do you good not to assume you're always right. I mean no test. This is only a conversation. Would you like to hear my view on the subject?"

Amina shifted in her seat, back to fiddling with her gown, fingernails tapping the metal choker that pinned her cloak. It didn't feel like just a conversation. Her answer lagged. "Sure."

"I believe that perfection breeds stagnation. Do you understand what I mean by that?"

She was far too tired for this. Her frown scrunched her nose. "I assume you're talking about people getting arrogant." Her arms crossed over her chest. "But you did tell me not to assume I'm right, so maybe you should explain."

Another of those dangling-bell laughs. "You learn fast. But you are right this time, at least partially. Arrogance is the core of Tehazihbith's problem. If we believe we've already achieved perfection, we make no effort to change, and change has the possibility to improve us even further. I long to seek out improvement."

Twisting to look at Zephyrine properly, Amina cocked her head, a string of curiosity finally threading in. "What kind of improvement?"

"That is to be determined if we choose change, I suppose. Which brings me to the point you were so eager for me to reach." A hand landed on Amina's shoulder. "You."

Amina jumped. "Me?" Her voice squeaked, and she winced, but her mind continued its frantic race. Against her skin, Zephyrine's hand was cold. The contact tingled. She could practically feel power ooze from the head mage's being, rattling her bones and stirring up her core.

"Yes." Zephyrine peered around at her, waves of scarlet rippling through folds in her skirts as she crouched low enough to bring their gazes level. "Safiya described to me the feat you performed yesterday. I've not heard of such potent magic in a long time. From someone so young, it's extraordinary."

Breathing was suddenly a chore, its rote, easy pattern forgotten. The fluttering whirlwind of colours that made up Zephyrine's eyes swirled a storm in Amina's chest. "Thank you," she stuttered out, "b-but I... I really don't know how I did it."

A smile, the softest yet, curled Zephyrine's red lips. "I see something in you, Amina. In your clear talent, I see the path to change. I came here today to ask if you are willing to walk it with me."

Her thumb slid over Amina's cheek, captured a stray curl of hair, and eased it carefully past her headpiece's gold thread to tuck it behind her ear. Her gaze flicked sideways to track its progress. She hadn't yet had a chance to comb her hair. Taming one single curl would hardly alter its overall wild state, but that wasn't where her confusion settled. "Could you speak plainly, please?" The words likely came out sharper than manners deemed acceptable, but her throat was too tight for an apology to squeeze through.

Zephyrine didn't seem to mind anyway. Her hand withdrew, but she remained where she was, her stare unceasing. "I would like to take over your training, if you'll let me."

Amina's eyes shot wide. Yes. The word burned her tongue, but she couldn't remember how to shape it. Or any words. She searched desperately, open mouth waiting.

All she could manage was a croak of a question. "What?"

"Provided you feel ready, I'd also be inclined to enter you for your trial."

Was she still dreaming? This had to be a dream. She'd pinch herself if her hands would obey her command to move; instead they stayed flat either side of her, frozen in place. Wrapped in numb disbelief, her head shook. "Isra keeps saying I'm too young for that."

A sly shadow narrowed Zephyrine's gaze. "Have I not made it abundantly clear that I don't care what Isra says?"

Amina beamed. She couldn't help it. She felt like apologising for the joyful sunshine for her earlier bitterness towards it. She understood it now, realised how appropriate it was, felt as if she were floating atop a bed of light herself.

"So." Zephyrine returned to her full height, hand on her hip. "Do you agree?"

"Yes." It came out all on its own this time, a rushing, breathless gasp.

"Good." Genuine, delighted relief decorated her voice in sugar. "I have one last question for you, then. Are you willing to answer?"

Legs swinging into the dip of her seat, Amina tucked her chin against the armrest, flashing her new mentor a crooked grin. "Is that the question?"

Sharpness overtook Zephyrine's gaze in a dark wave. "Don't get cocky with me yet, apprentice."

"Right. Sorry." Amina did her best to temper her confidence, correcting her posture, but her smile wouldn't stop poking at her lips. Excitement tingled at her fingertips as if the dust was already hers to control, the desert's breeze leaking in to taste her skin as it sang its soft, tempting song. She could be a full mage in no time at all.

But all that could be taken away in a heartbeat by the amazing woman standing before her. She put on her most attentive expression, awaiting the question, for once determined to listen.

Pride softened the look Zephyrine gave her and soared into her words. "What I want to know is this: if you had the power, how would you improve this city?"

Fingers threading absentmindedly through her tangled hair—she should probably attempt to look somewhat more presentable now she was apprenticed to the most powerful mage in the city—Amina delved into thought. Yesterday's events unfolded from within her memories: the battle, the steaming corpses, the fear and awful dread of facing down her potential death. An answer leapt forth, and it made surprisingly perfect sense. "The beasts," she realised. "We already hold the upper hand against them, but we still let ourselves be attacked day in and day out." She sat up straighter, her smile buoyed. "We're strong enough to defeat them entirely. I'd eradicate them, once and for all. Them and the Feralites."

As she finished, she searched Zephyrine's face. It was set in soft lines; though Amina couldn't quite read the depth of the pattern within them, she detected a glint of approval, solidified by the slightest dip of a nod. "You're full of ambition," Zephyrine said. "That will serve you well." She moved backwards, attention swinging to the open doorway. "I'll speak with Isra and then return to collect you. We have much to do."

Amina nodded readily, though the final word she'd spoken sat heavy on her tongue. Her gaze flicked to the mess of books and paper laid on the desk, the drawing of the strange, armoured Feralite lunging out at her, and hastily pushed herself free of her chair before her courage could shatter. "Head Mage Zephyrine?"

Zephyrine turned back with her smile patiently intact. "Simply Zephyrine will do."

"Zephyrine," Amina corrected, fighting to stay stable as a giddy wave washed up from her toes. The clash of excitement and nerves and a sliver of tainted seriousness flipped her stomach. She rocked on her heels. "One last thing about yesterday. After I killed that beast, I... saw something." She gulped, regret suddenly sour in her throat, but pressed on. "A Feralite. It vanished before I could get a good look, but..." She trailed off, wringing her hands.

Zephyrine raised an eyebrow. "Near the border?"

"Very near."

Lips pressed together, Zephyrine nodded slowly. "I wouldn't dwell on such a thing, Amina. But I thank you for informing me."

Dismissive as her words seemed, her eyes told a different story. They were piercing, digging a hole in Amina's forehead, bright with meaning she couldn't make sense of. Even as the head mage turned, footsteps fading into the hall, the look's burn lingered.

Suddenly and starkly alone, she rubbed at her arm. Sweat clung to her skin in all the worst places. Before she started her prestigious new training regime, she was going to need a bath. And a moment to think.

She gnawed at her lip. What did Zephyrine expect of her? That she wouldn't let it go? Though dropping the topic and giving her brain a break sounded inviting, the flicker of memory reeled her back in like a shifting tide, whispering that there was something more to be found there. That it mattered. Zephyrine's eyes had said the same thing.

Rolling her shoulders, Amina looked again at the gold-gilded view of the street outside, and elation fizzed anew in her chest. She lifted her chin.

She was special, talented, chosen to light the fires of change, and she would do anything to make her enigmatic new mentor proud. If anyone could piece together this mystery, it was her.

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