~*~*~*~*~*~
Neil wasn’t sure how this had happened, exactly, but he was torn between relief and embarrassment. Dexter turned out to be very knowledgeable about dragels and dragel physiology. His magic was tied to the element of air, or so he explained, after stepping inside the small dorm room and making sure the door had been properly shut.
Any protest Neil had, vanished when Dexter had shuddered and leaned forward in time to allow a pair of gorgeous silver and scarlet wings to emerge from his back, tall enough to touch the ceiling and pointed on the bottom—almost touching the floor. They were the exact replica of his own, save for the differences in height and color.
The odd, crushing weight he’d borne since learning that dragels were extinct, vanished within a second. A bubble of crazy-hysterical relief welled up inside of him and Neil barely managed to keep it down. What followed Dexter’s demonstration of his wings, was a very confusing and hastily whispered conversation, which had ended with Neil standing in the center of the room where he could almost stretch out what he now knew were his indoor wings.
Dexter summoned something out of thin air, which turned out to be therapeutic massage oil in a travel-sized bottle, marked with a designer label. He’d folded his own wings back in almost instantly after displaying them, muttering about the size of the room and the possibility of Neil’s dorm being monitored. The oil was warmed with another spell, making it pleasant to touch, but not too hot to handle.
“How long have they been out?” Dexter asked, worriedly. “They’re not supposed to be out in closed quarters for extended periods of time. It’s a sign of extreme stress.”
Neil gritted his teeth against the tiny spikes of pain. One or two, he could handle, but several dozen all at once was pushing it. “They’ve been out since last night, I woke up this way.”
“Your wings are one of the most sensitive things you have to look out for when you first change,” Dexter said. He motioned for Neil to hold his hands out, then poured a generous amount from the bottle, before stepping back to allow some personal space. “You’ll have to do this yourself, but you can’t take too long.” Dexter reached out to grab one of the wingtips, keeping a firm hold, he held it at an angle so Neil could reach it. “They’re terrible. What exactly have you been doing to them?”
“Nothing at all,” Neil muttered. “How are you even alive? Aren’t you supposed to be extinct?”
“We’ll cover that later,” Dexter said, dryly. “I’d help, but that’s a bit too personal—as I’m sure you’ll discover in a moment. Your instincts won’t let me. Rub gently, using the palm of your hand, don’t scrub and don’t pull with your fingers. You’ll bruise the scales. Until you fully extend in fresh, open air, they’ll be sensitive and irritated. Ideally, it takes about five-hundred extensions before they’re where they should be in terms of comfort. I predict a great deal of nature in your future.”
“Wonderful.” Neil gentled his motions in slathering the lightly scented oil over the leathery wings. He wanted answers to questions he hadn’t asked yet and most of all, he wanted to know where the others were. From the familiarity of Dexter’s handling, Neil didn’t have to be a genius to guess that there were other dragels somewhere out there. It eased another bundle of worry from his mind.
“Rub it in a circular motion around the joints and tips,” Dexter instructed. “Use long, broad strokes on the wings themselves, don’t rub the spines too hard though. It should be working now.”
Neil scowled. He didn’t understand what Dexter meant, since everything hurt and nothing was making it better. He tried to focus on what else the blond man had been talking about. “Still hurts. What did you mean I should have a mentor?”
“Everyone has one,” Dexter said. “Here, use more—use it all, if you need.” He poured another generous handful into Neil’s outstretched hands. “A mentor is assigned to you from the day of your magical maturity. The first time you perform magic, whether deliberate or accidental, it’s recorded and based on your element and projected rank, you’re assigned to a mentor. They will find you directly before your inheritance comes in to prevent things like this,” he swatted Neil’s hands away from his wings. “What hurts? Don’t pull, you’ll only—can you even feel what you’re doing?”
“What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“You said it hurts? What part? The wings, your shoulders or something else?”
“All of it!” Neil snapped.
“This—Arielle,” Dexter muttered. “You’ll have to come with me. Calida can explain this much better than I could ever hope to.”
“Explain what? Go where?”
“Everything. She’s a submissive, which you are too—going by the wing color. She’s also better suited to this sort of thing. I swear on my magic, I mean you no harm.” Golden strips of light circled around his wrists and neck as he spoke, to emphasize the promise. “You’ll come to the teaching quarters, there’s private apartments on the same floor for families and assistant faculty. I’m not kidnapping you.”
Neil rolled his eyes. He didn’t need that proof, because if something would have gone wrong, it would have happened already. He was most concerned with his wings and how long it would take for someone to notice he’d been out of character for the past few days. “As if I can actually walk out of here with-”
“Look at me,” Dexter caught his hand. “Look at my eyes.”
Reluctantly, Neil did so.
The same whispery magic from before, swirled around him and he cried out as something twisted sharply inside of him. Stumbling backwards, the air was sucked from his lungs and the tiny flicker of magic flared briefly before Neil sat back on the bed—hard, trying to catch his balance. “What did you do to me?” He rasped, clutching at his throat and chest.
“You’re welcome,” Dexter said, briskly. “I don’t know how long that will hold, but if your magic really is gone, then I can’t ‘port you out from here, so we’ll have to walk. I’d rather not do that again, so if you would get dressed and hurry?”
Neil glared at him, but didn’t protest. The heavy weight of his wings had vanished and he didn’t need to look behind him to tell that they’d disappeared. The stifling threads of binding magic wrapped around his entire upper body, crisscrossing invisibly in a way that held his wings inside of him. He supposed there were worse ways for his day to progress as he picked up the towel from the floor and ducked into the refresher.