Ena's wand trembles slightly in her grip as she faces you down, her eyes narrowed with a mix of fear and determination. You're still crouched low to the ground, your recently-shed cat form leaving phantom whiskers tingling on your face. The cobblestones beneath your hands are cold and rough.

You've both been taught the same stories since you were young – whispered warnings about the others, tales of betrayal and bloodshed passed down through generations. Sorcerers learn to fear familiar's deceptive nature; familiars grow up hearing about the sorcerers' cruel dominion. Neither side questions these teachings, not until moments like this, when the enemy has a face.

"Don't move," Ena says, but there's a catch in her voice that betrays her uncertainty. The purple light dancing at the tip of her wand casts shifting shadows across her face. You can see her pulse racing in her throat, watch her fingers flex around the smooth wood of her weapon. She's probably never had to face someone like you before – not really, not up close. "I mean it. Stay right where you are."