The owl's lesson drags on and on; even when he talks about interesting topics, I cannot shake the burning gaze of the dog from my neck. This brings back memories of the happy days of youth, where I was picked on almost every day. Not like it bothered me; who would even internalise something like that?

I shake the rising dread from my chest. Why am I so nervous about one guy who hasn't even spoken to me yet? This is a University, not some measly school. There are no bullies here; people have their shit figured out by now or have enough on their plates to not be a twat in general. Besides, I am a trained and powerful mage! Mess with me, and I'll… I'll do something, for sure!

Not blood magic; that's a quick way to get my license revoked. Not illusion either. While you can do harm with it, I don't think I have the guts to completely shatter someone's sense of reality. Don't even know the spells for that. Uhm… Still! I have the power of a ferret and anime on my side!

The scream of a hundred chairs breaks me out of my panic-attack-flavoured power fantasy. It looks like the owl is done; he is dismounting his crystal from its holster. A panda is looking at me with impatience in her eyes. I am the one standing (sitting) between her and freedom. So I too get up (my chair closes with a deafening bang as soon as it loses my weight) and file out with the swarm.

As soon as I pass the threshold of the auditorium, a clawed paw slaps onto my shoulder. It belongs to a curious greyhound. 

— Nice pictures back there! Mi a neved, görény? — the fact that he addresses me in my own language catches me off guard. His grin slowly fades as I lag with my answer, and he switches back to Inter  — oh, sorry, thought you were from the Northern Principalities!

— Ignác. And I am. Just didn't expect anyone here to speak that! —  I answer him in the northern tongue.

The dog's grin returns, and he initiates the meeting ritual before I can do anything more.

— Benedek! I use Ben when speaking Inter. So nice to meet a fellow Northerner!

— Likewise. I use Noodle. — his paw feels much similar to Levi's. Way softer than what you would expect from a canine. — Do I look so out of place?

— Yeah, nah, I read your name on the attendance list. I know a Chompzoky back home, and if I had to choose a Chompzoky from a ferret, two pandas, and a komodo dragon, I'd wager my tail on the ferret.

Thinking back, those were the species that sat in my row. Yeah, you would not find any of them with a name like that. We let go of each other's paws and look around. Luckily, most students have left in a hurry, and only Buborovich remains in the class.

I grab Ben's arm and pull him aside, behind a cracked column. It has a faded pamphlet attached, advertising some event from seven months ago.

— Barátom, when were you home last?

His face twitches in concern.

— Over a year ago. It's hard to reach the Iron Province from here, especially with all the… events.

Oh no, Hämish, be merciful; he is from the Iron Province.

— I have returned recently. I can bring you … news. Is there a place where I can perform freely?

— There's a study room on my floor where the Arbiter doesn't care about “barbaric rituals". I knew one other northerner on campus, but she graduated two years ago and went back home. We could honour our traditions there.

We agree that Ben will book the study room for next week, so I can prepare for my dance. We Chompzokys aren't from Novara. My parents visited the country when the events started so that my siblings and I could finish our studies (or, in my case, continue) in peace. Since then, my family has moved back home to help in their own ways, and only I have remained.

Before the semester started, I visited them to see how things were going. The nature of the events is strange for outsiders because we cannot talk about them or express opinions about them with words. However, the old rituals of our home give us a medium to circumvent this issue. Dance.

And thus, I return to my new home away from home: K3/813. Levi waits for me, reading a dusty tome and surrounded by candles. He is trying to fix the fridge. I have never been too savvy with bindings, so I leave him to it, offering him one of my blood gems to fuel the ritual. He politely refuses with a gag.

I need to think about how to dance the truth. How to tell about the léñ¥ , the árñ¥, the †ükör, and the flowers. How to twirl and step, how the (£lå¯`·.¸¸.·m꧴¯`·wï.¸¸  ll ß.->µrñ. Time passes as I think and remember.

I lay exhausted on a clean patch of grass, one that was not yet tainted. The iron taste fills my mouth,my life essence is drizzling down at the sides of my muzzle. Don't even notice Levi's wide eyes staring at the moving, dead landscape I turned the room into. The ash-laced breeze caresses my consciousness to sleep, and with it, the illusion fades as well.