The fungi laughed when Otoku poked them.
*"Stop that,"* Veyra said, not glancing up from her scrolls. *"They're poisonous."*
*"But they're funny,"* Otoku protested. At five years old, his voice still held the chirp of innocence, though his left hand was a lattice of blackened cracks. He poked the fungus again. It shrieked like a stepped-on cat.
Veyra sighed. *"You're a demon."*
*"No,"* Otoku corrected cheerfully. *"I'm a *prodigy*."* He'd heard the elders whisper it.
The Sanctum of Echoes was no place for a child. Its walls pulsed with the whispers of dead mages; its corridors twisted when unobserved. Otoku had learned to crawl before he walked—the floors were less likely to vanish beneath his knees.
*"Lesson time,"* Veyra said, snapping her fingers. A sphere of water materialized above her palm. *"Copy this."*
Otoku squinted. He *willed* the air to shimmer—
—and the sphere turned into a tiny, spitting dragon.
Veyra stared as it bit her thumb. *"That's not water."*
*"Better, though,"* Otoku said.
The door burst open. A panting apprentice gaped at them. *"High Elder—the elven delegation—they're *here*—"*
Veyra's face went still. Otoku felt it then—the *pressure* of foreign magic, like fingers around his throat.
*"Hide him,"* the apprentice whispered. *"They've come for the Star-Eater."*
Otoku blinked. *"Who's that?"*
Veyra's smile was a razor. *"You are, little demon. Now *run*."*