"You're not trying, Tori," the frightening mirror that he was forced to stand before on his very first day stared blankly at his heart. "You have to focus."

"I am, sir." The moon turned to Faustes with a glow that wavered not. "I am trying." But since when could effort be seen by the naked eye—no. The determination of a heart could not be measured by any physical form or numerical units like mass, it was unheard of. Unseen.

The professor angled his student in a way that he faced both the mirror and him. "Then maybe you're not trying hard enough." Io found in him a raw indignance that battled against the words he heard. Who was anyone to define the sufficiency of his attempt; the extent of his efforts? Was it not his own, and his only?

Io swallowed his mind and returned to the reflection of himself. For all he knew, he could see them.

On his back, a pair of luminous white wings spread wide—spanning, incredibly, beyond what the mirror itself could contain and radiating a glow so natural, so ethereal that it tickled his hair as though by some strange occurrence a breeze had passed despite closed doors; leaving star-like dust upon his shoulders, so small. How they bore the burden of wings so large was a mystery indeed but to Io, they were light. There was no weight at all.

From what he could see, or at least perceive of his reflection and his teacher's response—the disjunction was clear. Not everyone could see Luna, or his wings. Even if they were somehow able to, like Luka for instance, Io wondered if his friend saw Luna exactly as he did.

"Sir, but..."

Faustes waited, but Io knew not how to break this to him: that it wasn't as though his wings or his Avian were absent and he was unable to conjure them, but rather a bizarre case whereby they were invisible. Unseen to...to certain eyes. How this had come to be, the boy was just as clueless as anyone else was.

"Will you believe me if I said they were there?"

The deputy headmaster frowned. "What was?"

"My wings."

Faustes looked at his student as though he had said something incredulous, and turned his gaze back towards the mirror he had already been looking at, but could not see; could not see the light that was inside.

To Io, his wings were reflected in the mirror only. Yes, it was simply a reflection—but surely, just like everyone else had on the first day, they could see the reflection he saw as his own? He looked to Faustes and searched in his dark eyes for some form of confirmation, only to be disappointed when he found there was none. "Sir I think other people can't see it. They just can't."

"Yes Tori, but this isn't about whether or not others can or cannot see what you can see, but whether or not you can make them see it." Faustes angled the mirror once more to fit his student only. "And I can't see a damn thing, whether or not it's your Avian or those wings. Look, it's excusable even if you're unable to shift. First years can't on normal basis, and you've only spent five months here so it's not as if I'm expecting you to physically manifest them, but if you can't even form them in your reflection, the council is probably going to fu—mess," he stopped himself. "Mess you up."

Io bit his lip in thought and considered telling the hawk that he could, in fact, form them in his reflection. Just why was it, then, that others could not see?

"Is there really no other way?" He stepped back, away from the mirror that was already so large. It made him feel a little empty inside, being the only one within its span and Faustes standing so far away. Luna observed quietly.

Her form was decently accommodated by the towering, arched windows that stretched across the side of the hall that Io was closer to. Her light filtered in.

"Hardly," Faustes sighed, taking a step closer so that he was within the mirror's capacity. His reflection was immediate and slightly startling. There was no pause that prepared the student for this—the beige spotted wings tipped with a shade so dark Io was unable to tell its colour at first sight. His wingspan was incredible had no one compared it to the wings that were unseen, for Io's were far wider, greater than those that any would have had the courage to imagine.

"You see them?"

"Yes."

"See, it's supposed to be immediate," Faustes explained. "There's no waiting. More like it's always there and you're just manifesting them when you shift. Fledglings need to search for it when reflecting, likely because they haven't thought about it often enough but as you mature, the reflecting is long done and it becomes an instinct. It surfaces and doesn't sink back."

Io nodded for the sake of it, collecting what he supposed was an energy dispersed within him and then releasing it as though spreading his wings. All he released was a sigh.

Two days from now, the outcome would not have been so empty.

"Are you thinking of something?"

"What?" Io stared blankly at the man in the mirror before correcting himself. "I mean, I don't understand. Sir."

Faustes didn't bother acknowledging his mistake. "Basic motivation—we all need some drive in the beginning."

"Drive?" The boy peered up curiously. "What do I think of?"

"Anything you like," Faustes answered vaguely, "most people think of something happy."

Immediately, it came to him. "So what do you think of, sir?"

The deputy headmaster snorted.

"Not relevant," he dismissed his student's question before making an off-handed remark. "You're a little shit you know that?"

Io laughed. "No one's called me that before."

"I'm surprised," Faustes mused in a quipped manner, turning to leave the stage. "Not many people are fond of you, Tori."

"Like the people in my new class?" The boy put bluntly, eyes fixed.

Faustes found the boy rather sharp despite his surface appearance of naivety. In fact it was a mistake made by the professor himself; to assume that the flushed optimism Io possessed was one of blind faith and positivity. It soon came to light that there was—oblivious to many—a dark abyss behind his joy which no one, not any perceiver, could see the bottom of.

"Yes," the man said shortly. "They were highly restless."

"Must have been hard for you, sir." Io commented lightly, descending from the elevated platform and tailing his new homeroom teacher. "I'll try to make friends."

Faustes didn't discourage him in any direct manner but seemed to warn him of the complications that might come with his latter statement. "The vulture hates you."

The laughter that ensued was rather disarming.

"I know, sir." Faustes shook his head, unable to express the sort of regret that was stirring within—one that reminded him of the days when he was, like the boy, filled with hope and determination—and yet there was an inkling; a small, bead of awe that wished he could return to such a time.

"If you can spend time talking to that eagle of yours, I'd rather you put your time and effort on this," he tossed something tiny at the boy and it was almost a miracle that he caught it with his hands. It was a key. "Come here and practice every minute you can. Don't let your free periods go to waste."

Oh bother.

"I'll try sir."

The deputy headmaster dismissed him with a wave.

______________________________

Vaughn's first heat was not memorable in the least. He merely recalled throwing up at every single thing in sight and remaining under his covers for more than a week. Symptoms differed across a wide range of factors that were vague and confusing, certainly incomprehensible to fourteen-year-old Vaughn at the time. He couldn't make out the difference between his heat and a terrible fever, and had left himself unclothed and unattended in the most uncomfortable bed for the entire period.

At present, he was faring well.

More than three years have passed since then and Vaughn liked to think that he had everything (mostly) under control. With muted desires, he could walk the halls without a flinch and make it through daily tutorials as though nothing was wrong. This achievement however, was largely due to the fact that these halls and classes were (mostly) empty. They weren't naturally empty, of course, they just were. It didn't help at all that Vaughn smelled like...burnt cream—or crème brûlée, for the matter—during the season and absolutely no one liked that dessert at all. Or perhaps they did, but found the person himself much more distasteful than a dessert they liked, so much so that they would rather avoid the person entirely even if he smelled like their favourite dessert. Through sheer thickness or density, Vaughn considered neither of these prospects. He wasn't even aware of what he smelled like during heat.

Thankfully, the vulture was in no such predicament. He had passed a member of the staff on his way to his final lesson—a boring extracurricular class on philosophy that was assigned to him at the very last minute seeing that he had not bothered to actually pick one himself; and the school unfortunately, was one to take extracurricular classes rather seriously—overhearing a peculiar conversation regarding a certain prey.

"How is she?"

"Goldfinch said we should lock her in. I've done it—here's the key. Help me return it to the office."

"Very well. Are you in charge of her meals?"

"No. I thought you were."

"Surely not."

"Well, that girl needs them. I'm certain she'd be staying in there for at least a week until her heat calms down."

They made her sound like a wild animal on the loose. Vaughn laughed at the raw depiction and at the image that his mind conjured almost instantly; how an innocent prey—or any human at all—who put on a shy and meek demeanour would ultimately turn into a corrupted individual pursued by desires, driven by needs so primal that they would turn—all of them would!—into the ugliest thing possible.

Disgusting.

They all were, eventually; there was no exception. Kindness; patience; bravery; beauty—they all had their limits and testing them often ended in flames. The reward of failure, yes. How exciting, the wait was.

He was still waiting. Still waiting for that sparrow to fall from that dangerous height of his;

Fall and die.

Just like the vulture did himself.

*

Watch your step dear, Luna warned, tailing Io from above as he sprinted in the dark, with the near absence of light and yet, able to see—see everything despite so. The forest was bitter and dense, frightening the heart with a chill so slight, it shivered.

It was past eleven.

Was he too late, perhaps? Io searched for the warm light of a lantern. He couldn't find it. The answer however, laid in wait for the boy in a quiet house on top of a lonely tree; almost like a blossom in his cage awaiting its shower of hope.

Don't worry Luna. I can see pretty well in the dark now. You know, it's almost like it's dayti—

As though bent on challenging his very own claim (with sheer defiance or unfortunate fate), Io ran into something. Losing his balance and struggling to regain it, the boy stumbled backwards and fell on his bum, narrowly missing a large root that would have made all the difference in pain.

"Ah—"

Io are you alright? Lyra hurried over to perch on his shoulder. You should have listened to Luna!

Either way, the boy was not paying any attention to both his Avians at all as his eyes adjusted to make out a person before him. "Io?"

It was the eagle's voice.

"Luka!" He waited briefly, hoping that his friend would offer a hand to pull him up (since for some reason, Luka had experienced close to nothing from the impact) only to have himself picked off the ground instead. Luka didn't help. "I was just going to see you."

The eagle did not respond to this. "How was the class?"

Io paused, finding the abrupt steering of their conversation in a different direction mildly upsetting. Was it just him?

"Um...i-it was...okay." Luka's eyes were brighter than usual; the amber was almost gold. "I...Luka are you alright? If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I'll help!" He said this because he found his friend to be acting strangely the entire day. He couldn't pinpoint how, exactly, but it was a mere instinct—an intuition—that things were not alright.

"I just...I don't know," He looked up at his friend, who appeared to be waiting for him to find his words albeit in a rather strange manner as well; by fixing his gaze on Io's...neck. The owner followed the direction of his eyes. "Is there something on my neck? I can't see."

Luka didn't answer. He continued staring.

Io was beginning to worry. "Luka? Snap out of it," he waved a hand in front of the other's unblinking eyes that were of a very dangerous shade. "Do you need to see Mrs. Goldfinch? I can go with you. If it's medicine you're worried about, I have a way of getting rid of the...the bitter aftertaste," he added with a fitting expression that described medication splendidly.

The eagle shook his head. Victoria was awfully quiet for some reason; she perched above them on the branch of a tree so high, Io hardly knew where she was. He did, however. For some reason.

"Let's walk back," his friend managed shortly, but Io was satisfied with the response regardless.

"Alright. Will you be going to the infirmary?" They walked together, but the distance between them was unusually large. "Um...Luka?" The first thing that came to his mind was to smell himself. No, he didn't smell bad or anything. Just—well, just Io.

So the boy dismissed those silly thoughts of his and closed the gap without hesitation, making a light remark about what he assumed was the weather. "It's been raining a whole lot recently."

Luka raised his gaze to the clouds above. There were no clouds.

"It's not raining now."

"Oh but it might...? In a moment or so. I'm sure it will, I mean, there's the scent of it. Like you know, when it's raining somewhere close but you can smell it from afar...? What's that thing called—"

"It's not the rain."

Io was startled by Luka's denial. Twice in a row; he had never disagreed twice in a row.

"What is it, then?" He asked quietly.

"Me."

Oh, was all his mind could come up with at the time. Nothing else. A fever. He must be feeling really uncomfortable. His first instinct was to confirm his suspicions by reaching up to gauge the temperature of his friend's forehead—only to have his hand slapped away.

"Don't touch me."

Startled, Io stepped back with a frightened chill.

"Luka? What—"

"Heat," the eagle managed shortly. "I'm in heat," he said, turning away with a look of distress that was absolutely foreign to Io. He had never seen this side of Luka. "You shouldn't touch me."

But Io didn't understand at all.

What was it about contact that made someone in heat uncomfortable? Surely, that wasn't all there was to it—discomfort? He wanted so much to read the other's mind and but no extent of concentration could illicit a single sound from the quiet entity. The link was empty.

"Oh, um. Okay," was all the boy could say. He took a step further away. "Does it feel weird? Am I supposed to do anything—or, I mean. Do you need me to stay away?" His words would not form.

"I smell weird don't I," he added; nervous as they emerged from the edge of the forest and entered campus grounds. "Is that why you're keeping your distance?"

No, he didn't.

He didn't at all and the truth was far from that. After all it was Luka who knew this best and in fact, Io smelled to him very much like fresh laundry; although the scent was faint and slightly muted, the eagle's heightened senses picked it up in magnitudes far greater than before. To him, Io smelled so, so—

"If you don't want me around, you can, um...you can just say it," Io added quietly. "I'll back off."

"That's not it," the eagle replied almost immediately, filling his friend with relief. "I just...need some sleep."

Io made an expression of understanding, silently appreciating the comfort in which Luka's words had instilled within him. Thankfully, all was at ease.

He raised another question out of curiosity.

"Does everyone have a different scent when in heat?" Io said after considering the relevance of his queries. Luka nodded.

"They always do. It's amplified during season, that's all."

"Ah...so—you smell like rain?"

"Yes," Luka mused quietly with a laugh. "Do you like it?"

The sudden question threw him off. "E-eh? Well. I mean, isn't...doesn't everyone like it? The smell of rain, I mean." His tongue was in knots. Luka didn't know what to make of Io's statement that clearly implied the suggestion of everyone wanting to be his mate.

"You, included?"

"Uh, yes...?" Io looked away. "I said everyone, so."

The eagle laughed low. "Really."

"I guess."

Luka did not make an effort to continue their banter. He breathed in the air that was full of fresh laundry and felt something stir from within. All of a sudden, everything was so deliciously attractive as sin and shadows sometimes were; leaving him rather plagued by the uncertainties of heat that he had always detested since the very first time.

"Are you feeling any better?" Io peered up carefully, keeping his distance just in case. They had arrived at the front steps of the central building. Although Luka was well aware of the real answer, he had not the courage to say it, quite fearing any form of anxiety this would cause for his friend.

"I'll be alright with some sleep," he reassured, leading the pair away from the direction of the infirmary. "Where will you go?"

"Back to the practice hall I suppose..." he laughed as the clock tower struck twelve. "I'm wide awake." The eagle could tell. Io's Avian was larger, brighter than ever despite it being the time for a crescent and there was a light reflected in his eyes that had, in the first place, caught Luka's attention as he was making his way back to the campus from the secret base they shared. It was strange how this light always seemed to lead him to what he was searching for.

A direct glance at Luna required a heart that was able to handle the sublime. Had he, the eagle, the chance to see the moon up close—as though it was meters within his reach so much so that he could, literally, steal it—he was sure it would have felt something like this. The sheer vastness of Luna's being shook any human from within and was, indeed, not something to be taken lightly or seen by rest of the world after all.

Luka was relieved, really, that he was one of the few that could. He liked to think that this was for him; a secret shared between them, for him only. Him.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" They arrived at a point of separation. Io would be making his way towards the practice halls while the eagle would have to find some rest in his room. Luka nodded, but as soon as Io turned on his heel, he turned back.

"Oh wait, we haven't!"

It seemed urgent, and Luka failed to hide his concern. "What is it?"

"The list! We were supposed to add something every night at the treehouse..." the moon phoenix appeared rather disheartened. "I was looking forward to it."

Ah—the list. Ten things that he liked, was it not? "We can do it another time," his friend reassured, but Io was stubborn and would not give in.

"One every time we meet at the treehouse."

"We didn't meet at the treehouse."

Io pouted. "That's not the entire truth. We met halfway."

"It wasn't the treehouse," Luka insisted for the sake of it. He was thoroughly amused by their minor argument. Io however, took to sitting on the first step of the grand staircase they were standing before.

"I'm not moving till we help you think of number two."

Number two? Luka had already forgotten what was number one. Something about correcting it—number one wasn't the entire truth either. It was at the tip of his tongue but nothing came.

"Food? What's your favourite food?" He found everything edible and nothing more. "Right...then, oh! Just now," Io turned to him with a disarming smile of excitement. "Scent? Do you like the smell of rain?"

Not exactly.

"Fresh laundry."

What a strangely specific answer! Or so Lyra had thought.

__________________________

"Mother?" He closed the door behind him and looked towards the lighted desk. "It is getting late."

The bearded vulture that perched on his stand by the stairs screeched a shrill sound before turning away from the intruder, dark wings rattling like a shiver across empty bones and retreating into the darkness with an eye on Verity Ann. She, in return, remained still.

Vaughn waited in silence, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was slightly hoarse. "You must rest."

The headmistress pursed her lips in distaste.

"Oh I will, dear. Rest assured that I will," she said without acknowledging his presence, eyes affixed on the documents laid out across her desk. "And you as well! I expect a splendid performance on Wednesday, is that clear?"

The vulture understood quietly.

"Is that clear?" She had to repeat with a gaze that struck her child across the heart.

"Yes, mother."

"Good."

"Off to bed," the headmistress dismissed with a wry smile. "I must busy myself with the council. Selecting a perfect line-up isn't all that easy you know. Some of Falrir's order are far too...ideal, for my tastes."

What she had meant in simple terms, Vaughn understood completely. The selected members of the council had to suit her aims regarding the sparrow's inspection. A coloured lens was always required; one that was preferably...in her favour.

_________________________

A/N: ;A; I always didn't like how other writers portrayed heat. It's like someone injected them with a sex-induced thing and they don't even stop to consider the line between abstaining and lust. Humans themselves understand the consequences that provide reasons for them to abstain from a form of lust that is scandalous and immoral, and there must be a dilemma—a moment of pause before any such human experiencing the heat of an animal succumbs to primal instincts. I like to think that it is a climb: there is the slow realization that they are changing, that something within is fighting to be released from its cage and then, and then the breaking down of rationality which is the cage before it all comes crashing :D

So sorry this took a long time to update, I was taking a long time considering Luka's scent. I didn't know what fit him and I had been going towards a musky, alluring scent almost like that of a demon hidden within but then I realized that it didn't suit him at all. Luka was more of the quiet rain; the drumming against the windows and the cracking of the sky—and yes, everyone likes the smell of the rain. D-don't they /.\ *sniffs Luka daily*

MEANWHILE VAUGHN IS A CRÈME BRULEE HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

-Cuppiecake.