excelled—all the while dealing with the judgmental looks and blatant accusations of nepotism from my classmates. I’d spent many night crying tears of frustration into my mother’s shoulder, but I was tenacious, never quitting despite the struggles. Eventually I’d graduated with a commission as a Combat Warlock.
And was promptly ushered out the door by the Delwinn Council with the request that I never bother them again.
Not that I minded, of course. The Council was like any red-tape, bureaucratic entity. The members fought for power, undermining each other whenever they could. They seemed more concerned about getting re-elected every eleven years and less concerned about actually running our society efficiently.
As such, I had been more than happy to let them wallow in their political filth while I went about my business, working freelancer jobs outside of their care or concern.
That is, until I’d helped create the rifts that we were trying to repair and got assigned to the Council by my father. Ever since, it’d been a tenuous relationship of begrudging dislike between me and the Powers That Be.
I felt the stares as I walked down the halls and heard the whispers that I wasn’t really one of the Skilled.
I could see the disdain for sullying the Shifter family name in the eyes of my peers.
And I tried my hardest to convince myself it didn’t bother me.
“Your service to the Delwinn Council has been exemplary, albeit unorthodox,” Devon said, returning me to the present. “I won’t deny that your presence has ruffled many feathers among the Council, and the Elders themselves, but you and your team have an excellent track record with the rift closures. As a whole, your team has ensured the safety of both the Skilled and the Normals. Your suspension was not an easy decision and it’s doubly vexing because of this .”
He punched a button on a remote. A large screen on the wall that I hadn’t noticed sprang to life with the image of an overly pretty news anchor staring intently into the camera. In a box to her upper left were the words, “Breaking News.”
“Although information is minimal, we have received reports that Carla Jones, Ambassador to the Skilled, and several of her staff were attacked by unknown assailants at the headquarters for the Delwinn Council hours ago. Initial reports indicate that at least three people, including Ambassador Jones’s deputy, Meghan Descar, were killed in the assault. Although the details are still unclear, we understand that several Skilled personnel and a Normal security guard were instrumental in stopping the attack. We’ll provide more details as they become available, so stay tuned for up to the minute reports on this dramatic story.”
Devon paused the program and set down the remote.
“That was the Normals’ Ambassador?” I asked in surprise.
The Elder nodded grimly. “Yes.”
I whistled. Normals weren’t uncommon at HQ, especially since the Council preferred to meet in their own chambers, but were usually around only during daylight. After-hours were reserved solely for internal meetings, the kind that shaped the Skilled community and didn’t include our non-magical counterparts.
HQ might be a place for partnership and cohabitation during the day, but at night, it was where we hashed out our in-house differences privately and quietly.
“So, what was she doing here?”
Devon’s jaw tightened. “That’s not important. I’m not here to debate Council business with you.” He rubbed his chin, obviously struggling with whatever he was trying to say. “I just...want your take on all this.”
I gave the old man a long stare, but decided not to screw too much with him. Partially because I was tired and partially because I wanted to piece together everything while the details were still fresh. Something about how the Mimics operated bothered me. They were organized and focused which was atypical for the species.
What concerned me more was how
And was promptly ushered out the door by the Delwinn Council with the request that I never bother them again.
Not that I minded, of course. The Council was like any red-tape, bureaucratic entity. The members fought for power, undermining each other whenever they could. They seemed more concerned about getting re-elected every eleven years and less concerned about actually running our society efficiently.
As such, I had been more than happy to let them wallow in their political filth while I went about my business, working freelancer jobs outside of their care or concern.
That is, until I’d helped create the rifts that we were trying to repair and got assigned to the Council by my father. Ever since, it’d been a tenuous relationship of begrudging dislike between me and the Powers That Be.
I felt the stares as I walked down the halls and heard the whispers that I wasn’t really one of the Skilled.
I could see the disdain for sullying the Shifter family name in the eyes of my peers.
And I tried my hardest to convince myself it didn’t bother me.
“Your service to the Delwinn Council has been exemplary, albeit unorthodox,” Devon said, returning me to the present. “I won’t deny that your presence has ruffled many feathers among the Council, and the Elders themselves, but you and your team have an excellent track record with the rift closures. As a whole, your team has ensured the safety of both the Skilled and the Normals. Your suspension was not an easy decision and it’s doubly vexing because of this .”
He punched a button on a remote. A large screen on the wall that I hadn’t noticed sprang to life with the image of an overly pretty news anchor staring intently into the camera. In a box to her upper left were the words, “Breaking News.”
“Although information is minimal, we have received reports that Carla Jones, Ambassador to the Skilled, and several of her staff were attacked by unknown assailants at the headquarters for the Delwinn Council hours ago. Initial reports indicate that at least three people, including Ambassador Jones’s deputy, Meghan Descar, were killed in the assault. Although the details are still unclear, we understand that several Skilled personnel and a Normal security guard were instrumental in stopping the attack. We’ll provide more details as they become available, so stay tuned for up to the minute reports on this dramatic story.”
Devon paused the program and set down the remote.
“That was the Normals’ Ambassador?” I asked in surprise.
The Elder nodded grimly. “Yes.”
I whistled. Normals weren’t uncommon at HQ, especially since the Council preferred to meet in their own chambers, but were usually around only during daylight. After-hours were reserved solely for internal meetings, the kind that shaped the Skilled community and didn’t include our non-magical counterparts.
HQ might be a place for partnership and cohabitation during the day, but at night, it was where we hashed out our in-house differences privately and quietly.
“So, what was she doing here?”
Devon’s jaw tightened. “That’s not important. I’m not here to debate Council business with you.” He rubbed his chin, obviously struggling with whatever he was trying to say. “I just...want your take on all this.”
I gave the old man a long stare, but decided not to screw too much with him. Partially because I was tired and partially because I wanted to piece together everything while the details were still fresh. Something about how the Mimics operated bothered me. They were organized and focused which was atypical for the species.
What concerned me more was how
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