Role

Chapter 6

You think me bitter, you think me self-loathing. I know. But how much it
must amuse you, to see me search walls in vain for an unseen cell door,
to crawl nose to ground in a ditch hunting for the way down, when the way
is so well known known to all your other students - a trap door that can
only be known through secrets spilled from mouth to ear - never learned
by eye to surface, or paw to ground.

But I will uncover the secrets of magic veiled throughout this world,
whether some think I ought to or not.

Slowly, this world bares its fruits for me, as my mastery of form grows.

For the forms of the cats grace me, as naturally as they ought for a felar.
How dearly I wish for my primal claws to rip the flesh off the faces of
those who wish to put me back in my "rightful place," far from magic.

But I do not hunt flesh, as those who hunt me do. I hunt secrets, and
steadily, the more I uncover, the less lustily the outlanders and
battleragers will prey on me, as easy an enemy as they believe a felar
mage to be.

It is true. I am bitter. And I am most impatient to punish them all for
their brazen superiority. But how can I, when the power within me is
so easily weakened by others' mastery of the artifacts of this world?
So their souls I cannot yet stalk. I instead take measure of the magic
surrounding me.

The climb always seems insurmountable, but my claws are sharp enough to
take hold. And as they scratch their way up to the secrets denied me,
be assured that they will rip away the facades that veil the truth of magic
from my kind. One day, all those who doubted me... they will learn.