Not even a moment later, Ezra enters their little secluded area. She bites her lip as she glances between Mara and Aeserast as if afraid she is interrupting them. “How is it going?”

“Mom, did Dad really build Cerlail Academy?” Mara demands, turning to her mother.

Aeserast chuckles. “Perfect timing; Mara shattered the Source globe again. Do you mind checking our injuries?”

Eyes widening, Ezra hurries over. A soft butterscotch-colored mist cascades from her fingers and envelops their injuries, taking away both the pain and the cuts. “You need to be more careful,” she murmurs half-heartedly, knowing Mara will most likely do it again.

Mara smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Mom. I’m trying.”

Ezra sighs, glancing at Aeserast. “How is she doing with the exercises?”

Aeserast’s lips tilt up. “She is improving. It’s slow work since she is only learning of it now, but hopefully by her sixteenth birthday, she will have some basic control over it.”

“I apologize for asking you to tutor her for so long.” Ezra pats Mara’s hands, her smile wavering. “I just worry about her.”

Aeserast pats Ezra’s shoulder reassuringly. “You know it is not a problem; even Timian would help out if he could. You’re our friend, Ezra, which makes Mara just as important to us as she is to you.”

Mara glances between the lavender-haired fey-elf and her mother, a bit confused on why she is important to more than just Aeserast and Ezra. “So how do you know each other?”

“We met when your father and I traveled to the capital for the first time,” Ezra says, smirking. “We asked Aeserast and Timian to be your guardians if anything ever happened to us.”

Mara frowns, finally sitting up. “Wait, Aeserast is my guardian? Like… a godfather or something?”

Ezra chuckles. “Yes. He has been a good friend of your father and I for… decades, really.”

Mara stares at Aeserast. Well, that explains why he was around so much when I was younger. “How come you haven’t aged?”

Aeserast smiles almost mischievously. “I am a Highlord, Mara.”

Mara glances at her mother, confused.

“They are…” Ezra chews on her lip, struggling to explain. “To an extent, they are the police of all the realms. Anything involving multiple realms or the travel between realms has to be passed through the Highlord Council.”

“I am the Creation’Lord, but most call me the Dream’Lord since I am located in Carni, the corridor realm between all other realms,” Aeserast explains. “My duties comprise of watching the Tower of Discord and monitoring Carni as a whole, as well as assisting anyone who needs my abilities as an instructor or sorcerer.”

“Oh, that’s neat.” Mara doesn’t fully understand, but by what she had managed to gather from that explanation, his job sounds pretty interesting. She glances around. “Shaniel isn’t a Highlord, right? What is he, anyway?”

“He is a Highlord,” Aeserast chuckles. “As for his species, he is a laig’hius, a highly impressionable creature. His ancestors had taken the forms of a feline and a bipedal. However, his Alkinian and Blazhreian blood dilutes him enough to where he can only take on a bipedal form.”

She takes a deep breath, processing the information slowly. That explains the cat ears and eyes, as well as the way he moves, Mara thinks, staring at the shattered globe. “I keep messing up…”

Aeserast shrugs, fixing the globe yet again. “Are you learning from it?” Mara nods. “Then that is all that matters.”

Mara gazes at the Source globe, wondering if she can go to Cerlail Academy after she turns sixteen. It would be neat if the academy from her father’s and Aeserast’s stories is Cerlail Academy. She smiles to herself. I wonder what else Daddy has done.

“I actually need you to come with me, Mara,” Ezra requests, standing up again. “Surana needs you to try on the dress.”

Mara sighs. The day to torture her has arrived.

They wander through the mansion. Curious, Mara glances around as they pass by several casually-dressed servants preparing the mansion for the festivities later that month. The celebrations are not going to be too lavish or over-the-top, which makes her feel a little better about the event.

They step into a large, homely room filled with fabric rolls, thread, and other crafting essentials. Surana rests in a light blue loveseat by the window, adding a few final touches on a blue, green, and brown dress.

Kimala stands off to the side, fiddling with an ornate rectangular box a little bigger and thicker than a book. She is in a pleated crème skirt and a silky blue blouse that matches her eyes. Mara glances disinterestedly at the pretty girl who has tried several times these past few weeks to humiliate Mara during her studies – and failing.

Surana glances up and beams at Mara and Ezra. “Ah, you made it just in time.”

“Hello, Surana.” Ezra leans over and gives her sister-in-law a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Surana shakes out the beautiful earthen-toned dress. “Mara, can you try this on?”

Mara flicks her gaze to the dress and then to the door. Ezra subtly shifts to block her exit route, giving her daughter a knowing look.

Mara glances at her hands in time to see a silver bolt skitter across her knuckles. “I… I won’t hurt you with this, will I?” Mara raises her hand, showing them the silvery sparks.

Surana’s lips stretch into a reassuring smile. “Do not worry about me, Mara. I have already grown accustomed to your Source.” She beckons Mara to follow her. “Come; we need to make sure the size is correct.”

Mara nods, although she doesn’t quite understand what the woman meant about her Source. She hesitates outside the screened changing area.

Ezra takes the dress from Surana and pushes Mara behind it. “You can’t avoid this one, Mara.”

Mara sighs. She knows her mother is secretly ecstatic that she will be wearing a dress; ever since she had been little, Ezra has found any opportunity she can to put her daughter into something frilly. One time, she had even threatened to replace all her clothes with dresses and skirts if Mara cut her hair too short. Thinking her mother had been joking, she had chopped off her hair by herself one day only to scream the next morning to find all of her clothes had been replaced in her closet. She now kept her hair at shoulder-length as a compromise between them.

It should be all right just this once, she thinks as her mother laces the back of the dress. I’ll just pretend it’s Mom’s birthday, instead.

Mara steps out in the exquisitely embroidered sweetheart A-line dress. Bright blue stones are sewn like flowers into the softly pleated green and brown skirt and short poufy blue sleeves. Silky brown gloves cover her skin all the way to her elbows. Catching a glimpse of it in the mirror, Mara sees the forest hues and loves the dress, but she still hates the way it tickles the top of her feet and ankles as she reluctantly spins at her mother’s twirling finger.

“Can I at least wear flats?” she asks, hopeful. Ezra holds up a pair of brown heels with green accents. “Guess not, then…”

Surana adjusts the hem of Mara’s skirt. “It looks like the right length. You don’t have to keep it on anymore, although the party lasts for about half a day.”

Kimala shoves the ornate box into Mara’s hands. She avoids eye contact. “If you don’t like it, tough. This was hard to get.”

Mara stares at Kimala as she opens the box. Inside, a beautiful mask made out of flattened black wire lies on a bed of satin. Silver ribbons trail behind it.

“She specifically wanted a masquerade party,” Surana whispers to Ezra excitedly. “She has this gorgeous silver-accented blue mask she has been dying to wear.”

“It’s beautiful,” Mara breathes, gently lifting the mask out of the box; it is definitely prettier than some silver-lined blue one.

“You really think so?” Kimala asks, surprised.

Mara nods and turns to the mirror, fumbling with the mask. Kimala grabs the silver ribbons and ties the mask into place. Mara brushes her fingers over the surface, feeling the overlapping wires. The metal accents her cheekbones, making her look much older than sixteen.

Ezra smiles at Mara. “You look beautiful, sweetie.”

Mara smiles back. “Thanks. I look forward to wearing it.”

Ezra winks at Surana. I told you so, she mouths.