"W-wait, hey—you calm down, kid!"
"I said you calm down."
I planted my hands on the desk, looming over the boy despite the absurdity of my new height. My body—what had happened to it?
The room felt smaller. No—I was bigger. The ceiling loomed closer, the bookshelves shrunken. Human-sized again, yet...
"Your wings," Styras observed dryly. "Still there."
I flapped them experimentally. A gust ruffled his silver hair.
Thunk.
"Ow!" My skull smacked the ceiling.
Styras pinched the bridge of his nose. "In the game, how do fairies attain human size?"
"Centuries of accumulated magic. Or..."
"Or?"
"Nothing."
Contracts. The unspoken word hung heavy. A bond where master siphoned servant's magic at will. The game's Eleanor had been shackled that way—a fate I'd die before confessing to this budding tyrant.
Styras' fingers drummed the desk. "Your sudden growth spurt coincides with tasting my blood. Coincidence?"
"S-surely!"
He smirked. Let the brat speculate. What mattered was the power—thick and honeyed, his magic sang in my veins. Human mages risked rejection from foreign energies, but fairy physiology drank it greedily.
"Enough theorizing." He seized my wrist. "You're meeting Lumina."
————————————
The Girl in the Honeycomb Room
The door creaked open on a nursery steeped in medicine and melancholy.
"Brother?" A frail voice.
"Brought our guest." Styras nudged me forward.
The girl propped on pillows could've been carved from sunlight—honey-blonde braids, golden eyes mirroring her brother's. A six-year-old wraith drowning in linen.
"You're... Eleanor?" Lumina's whisper held awe. "The fairy who called for help?"
Styras shot me a look. Explain.
"I... may have mentally shouted 'Styras' during your coughing fit," I admitted.
Lumina giggled, a sound like windchimes. "Your voice was sad. I told Brother to be nicer."
My throat tightened. This child had *heard* my silent panic?
"Lumina's gift," Styras said softly. "Empathy through walls. Annoyingly persistent."
"Not annoying!" She stuck out her tongue. "Eleanor-san, will you play with me? Brother's always busy..."
"Absolutely n—"
"Yes." The word escaped before I could stop it. Damn those puppy-dog eyes.
Styras' smirk returned. "Seems you've been adopted."