I make my way down the curved staircase, nodding to the few waters I pass. Some nod back with respect. Others avert their eyes, still unsure how to interact with the girl who commands an ancient water dragon.

I don't have that problem with my core group. They know exactly who I am, what I am. And against all odds, they've chosen to stand with me anyway.

I find Mireen's door slightly ajar, muffled curses, and the sound of flapping wings spilling into the hallway. I push it open to find absolute chaos.

At least a dozen small birds dart about the ceiling of her room, chirping frantically as Ollie, her water otter elemental, leaps from furniture attempting to catch them. Mireen stands in the center of the mayhem, copper-red hair falling from its braid as she waves her arms, trying to direct the birds back toward the open window.

"Just a little more to the left—no, you idiots, the other left!"

"What," I say, leaning against the doorframe, "the actual hells?"

Mireen whirls to face me, her blue eyes lighting up. "Nessa! Perfect timing. Help me get these little bastards back out the window."

"You know, most people would be satisfied with just one pet," I observe, stepping fully into the room and closing the door to prevent any escapes into the hallway. "Why do you need an entire flock?"

Last year, she started with one pet rat and ended up flooding her room with the things. Eventually, she decided the smart thing to do was slip them under doors of random legacies. The resulting panic and anger was legendary, and nobody ever traced the source back to Mireen. A few weeks ago, she mentioned she was thinking about trying to lure a bird into her room.

Now this…

"They're messengers," she explains, making a whistling sound that causes half the birds to swoop toward her extended arm. They land in a fluttering line, their tiny heads tilting as they eye her expectantly. "I've started training them. Watch.”

She whispers something to the smallest bird, a brown sparrow with white speckles on its wings, then tosses it toward the window. It shoots outside like an arrow, wings beating furiously as it vanishes into the distance.

"Messenger birds? You do realize we’re not supposed to communicate with the outside world. Under punishment of death, right?”

Mireen grins, the old crescent-shaped scar at the corner of her eye crinkling. "Sure, but it’s not like I’m going to actually send messages. They just like having jobs. Makes them feel special. Besides, it’s not against the rules for me to use them to send messages to a certain well-endowed earth affinity to arrange clandestine meetings.”