The phoenix swooped down to rain fire on the approaching lizardmen – and there had to be half a dozen of them camouflaged in the field, screeching now as Rae's summons attacked. Oren scrambled back, gasping as his foot slipped and his ass hit the mud. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, his breathing quick and panicked. Rae had commanded the phoenix to protect him, but what if Rae was in danger? It wouldn't choose him over its summoner – he'd be left defenseless.

His magic sang beneath his skin, and he blew out a harsh breath. Not defenseless, but not really defended, either.

He turned to call out to Rae, but he was distracted as suddenly a shadow darted from the undergrowth lining the river's edge. The moment it moved, claws extended and mouth agape, Oren rolled to the side, his magic engulfing him in white light on instinct alone. He dug an elbow into the earth, skidding to a stop, and as he raised his head, Oren grasped for the shield that would no doubt be waiting on Hawthorne's arm—

But there was no shield. The arm before him was too pale, covered in bright turquoise cloth that Hawthorne would never wear.

Oh, gods, no. When had he copied Ilias?

His magic was finicky at times, so much a part of himself that it was an unconscious instinct to let it out. He – he must have brushed against Ilias on the ride here, or grabbed his arm to steady him, or, or something, and copied out of habit.

Oren clawed a hand at his chest, curling into the neckline of Ilias' shirt. The one thing his magic couldn't copy, though, was depressingly absent from the attire. Ilias' talismans were irreplaceable, and immune to his copying skills. Which made him a sitting duck.

The lizardman seemed to sense his anxiety, as it turned away from the river, piercing him with another predatory sneer.

Oren didn't move from his position, sprawled out on the ground, hand to his heart, eyes wide with fear.

The phoenix was above him, but not close enough, having drifted away to combat the horde hiding in the grass. The lizardman would have its teeth in Oren's throat before it could intervene.

Oren squeezed his eyes shut as the shadow fell across him again. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know when the fangs would scrape into his flesh. He didn't--

A resounding screech cut through the air, and then suddenly Valda – Ilias' golden eagle – was there, her talons slicing into the black-splotched hide of the lizardman that had been lunging for Oren.

"Oren, again? You're much too clumsy with your magic, boy."

"Sor-Sorry?" he coughed, his nails digging into his chest, deep enough to draw blood.

Valda's eyes glittered with the promise of a lecture to come. "You know you took me away from my Ilias, yes?"

"Ah..."

"Never mind. I sensed strong magic from that djinn he was with. He'll be fine without me. You, on the other hand..."

Her gaze drifted to the lizardman, which watched their exchange intently. "Direct me, Oren, just this once. While you wear Ilias' form, I may as well obey you."

He sucked in a sharp breath, nodding emphatically. He wasn't going to die after all. What a pleasant change of course.

"Uh... please kill this thing for me, Valda"

"With pleasure," she grinned, spreading her wings and taking to the air in one, fluid motion. The phoenix retreated through the air at the eagle's arrival, a surprised, irritating hiss escaping it before it swept out, setting fire to lizards once more.

"Summoning magic?"

Oren glared at Rae, who stared at him inquisitively from the river. Her eyes flicked between him and Valda, and while the curiosity there was obvious, he couldn't read whatever else she might've been thinking about Valda's appearance and his own transformation. Scowling, he slapped a hand to his chest—Ilias' chest. "Not mine, obviously."

The phoenix released another ear-splitting shriek, and Oren winced as the intensity of its flames seemed to increase. Valda flew with ease around the phoenix, her wind magic slashing down at the lizardmen that managed to avoid the fire.

Rae, though, wouldn't stop staring at him. "You're a shapeshifter," she said, with no apparent urgency or concern for the battle raging on around them. "Of course."

"Changeling," Oren bit out, because it wasn't a secret, and he'd rather Rae make her judgements based on facts rather than assumptions. Less room for them to pull their foot out of their mouths when he called them on it. "And I'm not really the most important thing here, am I?"

Valda swooped down at that moment to eviscerate another lizardman that had strayed too close to Oren. He offered a shaky smile of gratitude and she hummed at him, her magic washing over him in a gentle breeze. He realized, then, that she'd been cleansing as she went, the winds ghosting over the infected lizardmen, the black ichor drifting away like smoke.

Rae shrugged, finally turning her attention to the lizardmen. "Oh. Sorry. Let's just..." Another screech from the phoenix as Rae gave her a wave, before it swept over and around the riverbanks, setting flame to everything that it could reach – which was pretty much everything, shit.

"You should probably join me, pretty boy!" Rae called. "Unless you're fireproof in that form."

Oren cursed under his breath, then flinched as Valda's talons hooked into the neck of his — Ilias' — shirt, all but dragging him backwards into the river. His foot slipped against the bank, and he nearly pitched headfirst into the water, but he managed to twist at the last moment, breaking the surface with his shoulder first. The shock of cold froze him for a heartbeat, and he struggled to get his bearings, to find which way was up. The sparkle of sunlight was just enough to guide him, and he struggled to the surface, gasping for air and already scowling at where Valda circled above him.

"A warning would've been nice!"

"I'll remember that the next time you steal me away from my dear Ilias."

"...thank you," Oren grumbled, swiping water from his eyes.

Rae instructed her phoenix to burn the rest of the lizardmen, a pleased smile taking her expression as the corruption dissipated with each sweep of phoenix's flames.

"Now that that's handled," she mused, fixing Oren's decidedly pathetic form with a curious look. "Are you more willing to answer questions?"

Disbelief colored Oren's features as he grasped onto the edge of the bank. His waterlogged clothes weren't doing him any favors, and the frigid shock of the water had left him shaky and tense. He didn't trust his limbs to keep himself afloat in this current without getting washed downstream.

"Seriously?" he asked, incredulous. "You're fixated on this?" He paused, assessing, eyes flickering as he considered the conversation thus far. "Wait. What are you so hung up on? My magic? Or Ilias'? Because if it's Ilias, you can damn well ask him yourself."

"Why not both?" Rae countered, continuing to linger in the river. As Oren climbed onto the bank, however, she glanced at phoenix who, after an annoyed ruffle of their feathers, began calming the flames licking over the land. "It is a unique magic."

Oren looked out over the still-burning grassland; the heat had been intense enough that he'd felt the echo of it against his damp cheeks just moments ago. And now the flames were sputtering out into embers, and then vanishing altogether. Magic flames or not, though, they'd done a number on the field, and now the ash—grass and lizardmen alike—swirled into the air as Valda made one last sweep of the valley, her wings beating winds down against the earth.

His internal timer told him he had a while yet before he was forced to give up Ilias' form—he hadn't done anything all that strenuous, and his transformation magic was, in and of itself, easy as breathing for him. Still, he didn't like Rae's interest, in himself or Ilias, and so he cut the transformation short, Ilias' features sliding off him like the water dripping down his skin.

"Not really a fan of people who like to pry," Oren said. Feeling Rae's eyes on him, he pointedly looked away, watching Valda until she winked out of existence, back to whatever dimension she spent her time in when Ilias didn't have need of her. "And neither is Ilias," he added, finally turning to look at Rae, his face a mask of stony indifference.

Rae gave a dismissive wave, before dropping her hands into the water and propelling herself to shore. There, she wrung out her hair, before studying her clothing with a small frown. She tipped her head back to address her summons. "Could you—"

"Absolutely not," the bird hissed, before vanishing in distaste.