Groan.

The blasting of the horn from the distance into the grey dusty dawn was like the moaning of a giant beast. Lotte gazed down at the black, hulking mass of the factory from her high perch on Sullivan tower, her goggles over her eyes and her scarf tied round her face to protect her mouth and nose from the rising fumes.

Below, like sleepy ants, the factory workers ambled towards work, moving in slow silent bunches, dragging their feet.

Her days living in the tower were numbered. Soon, very soon, she either had to find a way out of Raidox or...she didn't want to think about it.

"A war is coming, Lotte," Poe had told her the night he showed up again only to bid her farewell. His long auburn ponytail blew merrily in the hazy evening breeze.

She wanted to beg him to take her with him, she wanted to ask him to stay. She just wanted to forgive him, he was her only family, after all.

"Where will you go?" she had asked instead.

"It's better that you don't know."

The tensions that were brewing for centuries between humans and elves were fit to burst. The war that everyone whispered about was finally here. The broadcasts announced that the Alesi, the people of the high cities of Lasuran, or simply "elves" as they were known to the humans, had overstepped their bounds, growing their forests on human soil. It was not like in the past when the humans were inferior. Times had changed. The human Agathara republic had its iron machines—humans were no longer weak.
And so, the whole land stood on the brink of war.

But where did Lotte fall? She belonged to both sides and at the same time, she was neither.

"I'm sorry, Lotte," was all Poe said before he left her there, completely alone in the world.

Not that his presence had changed the state of Lotte's loneliness. Poe had saved her life, had raised her and seen to her needs, but in the end he too had abandoned her.

There was always some detachment. Even when he was there, she had always been alone.

And now he was gone for good, gone back to Lasuran to be with the other elves where he belonged. Again, she was left to fend for herself. But this time, it was in a land that would soon view half of her as the enemy.

The elves would never take her—a Lotte, a half-elf, the humans were likely going to kill her. There was only one place a mixed breed could go to in a time like this, but even that wasn't a safe place.

Serades.

Lotte gingerly edged along the platform outside her room, slouching forward to protect herself from a particularly powerful gust of wind. She had to make only the short distance from her door to her letter box but in that time she was forced to stop twice to brace herself against the railing at the edge of the platform. The morning gales of Raidox were known to pluck unsuspecting people off the platforms of the tower.
She had heard the mail-man do his rounds only a few minutes ago.

Everything, her future, her survival, depended on her acceptance letter from Serades arriving. Poe had helped her arrange the correspondence. He was disappointing, but not unkind.
Standing over the letter box, she paused, her heart hammering suddenly and her knees feeling rubbery. How soon would the Lord General announce the war? How much time did she have? She closed her eyes and placed her palm on the rusty metal lid of the box.

Please, please let today be the day it arrived. Please let the box not be empty again. She didn't know to whom or to what her heart raised the silent prayer, she just begged with every fibre of her being for it to be the way she needed it to be.

With her eyes still closed and one last, desperate 'please' ringing through her mind, she grabbed the coarse handle and yanked the lid up.

The hinges creaked shrilly, she peeled one eye open to peek inside, then opened the other and blinked several times, trying to wipe the smudges of clinging dust from her goggles.

A battered parcel sat before her, wrapped in brown paper, tied with string. It was stained by dirt and ash, but had the Serades dragon seal stamped on top.

She stared in disbelief. It was here. It was really here.

Lotte couldn't hold back the whoop of joy that escaped her as tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

This was it!

Her hands shaking, she lifted the parcel and hugged it to her chest.

She was going to live, she was going to survive. It was going to be alright.
In her little room among her brushes and paper, her whole body trembling, she carefully unwrapped the parcel. Inside there was a thick letter and a small, wooden box that fit into the palm of her hand. She put the box aside and opened the letter, breaking the crimson wax dragon seal.

The paper was blank—but this didn't mean she had received an empty letter. Lotte could practically smell the enchantment. She turned over the paper, and then tried to look at each of its corners, angling her head first to one side and then another. Finally, she found what she was looking for on the bottom right corner. When looked at from the left side of her right eye, she could just make out a small winged horse hastily sketched there.

It was a simple but good enchantment—Lotte knew this was a test. Whoever was going to be her employer wanted to see what she could do with enchantments. She hurried over to her work desk, pushing aside pieces of charcoal and stray brushes and flattening the letter down. She drew a deep breath and smoothed the corners, picking up a soft pencil, holding it lightly between her fingers as she thought.

What could counter the winged horse? For a moment she eyed her meagre library and shook her head—no books on enchantments could be found in her home. As far as the humans knew, she was just a humble artist. Many humans liked art and had no idea that Lotte's works were not merely paintings and sketches. That was how she survived among them, selling them works that made them feel happy, that gave them pleasure and luck. They were silly pieces, unworthy of her true skills, but let her get by.

She lightly traced a few lines on the paper with her pencil. She had some vague idea of what she wanted to do, but mostly she chose to follow instinct. After a while of feverish sketching, she threw aside the pencil. She was on to something, but there were still a few more touches she needed to add. Out of her head knot she pulled a course brush, dipping it in black ink and then tracing a few select lines of her drawing.

Another winged horse, this one female, her coat gleaming with robust health, peeked across the page.

Lotte let out a deep breath and waited for the ink to dry before she turned over the page.

Nothing at first, and then, as if rising out of a deep white mist, words began appearing: a letter addressed to her from Serades.

She read it several times over because she just couldn't believe it. They recognised her skills and hoped she would agree to become an Enchantress in the court of the Dragon King. The letter stated that she would find her official Serades visa in the envelope. Other than the letter itself, there had been only the wooden box. So the visa must be inside it. She eyed it where she left it across the room.

Lotte put her brush by the stained sink to be cleaned later and padded across the room, picking up the box.

It was heavy for its size but also plain and dented. There were holes punched in the lid and the wood itself was rough. Without giving it much thought, she undid the small metal clasp and flipped the lid open.

Something jumped right into her face—an insect? She let out a little squeal as she swatted the air before her eyes, taking a step back and getting her legs tangled in the stool. Falling hard on her bottom, she looked up at the creature that was buzzing about her room. She saw what it was, but it felt like a dream.
It flapped and fluttered, crashing first into the overhead lamp and then into the shelves over Lotte's bed knocking the books and bottles down to her blanket. Finally it settled on the tin frame of her small, oval looking-glass.

Its little wings continued to flutter excitedly, but otherwise it was still, watching her with large, curious sapphire eyes.

A dragon. A real, living, breathing dragon. It perched before her, translucent turquoise scales glittering along its magnificent coiling body. It was exactly four inches long.

Feeling every beat of her heart like a fist ramming into her ribs, Lotte found her feet and edged towards it.

She tilted her head to the side.

"Hello," she said.

That was the only thing that occurred to her to say. The dragon mimicked her and tilted its head to the side as well. It didn't say anything.

"You're a...dragon?" she asked.

The dragon nodded, causing Lotte to take a step back in surprise. So, she concluded, it could understand what she said. "Can I... offer you something to eat? Something to drink?" She hadn't had a guest in a long time, but this was the kind of thing people said to guests.

The tiny dragon made an odd motion with its neck, like a shrug, and began nibbling the mirror frame.

"I'm Lotte, do you have a name?"

One nod, and then the dragon pointed its beaky snout at the wooden box. Lotte ambled towards it without taking her eyes off the dragons and picked it up from where she dropped it on the floor. She turned it over and found a name carved on the bottom.

"Fintan." Lotte offered a smile.
The tiny creature perked up at the sound of its name, wearing an expression that was oddly...human-like.

"It's a pretty name."

Fintan continued eating the tin frame.

Several bangs clamped like thunder cutting through the busy silence of Raidox and then resonated back in echoes that made Lotte's knees weak. She knew that sound, it was gun fire and it was coming from somewhere below, within the tower.

Without thinking or asking for permission, she seized the tiny dragon and stuffed him into her pocket before running towards the door. Just as she was about to open it, someone hammered upon it from the outside, making the rusty metal clang.

Lotte stepped back, feeling her whole body go stiff.

"Lotte! Lotte it's me!" cried the voice of her next-door-neighbour, Emilia Tok. She was a lonely elderly woman and lonely people didn't mind if half-breed teenaged girls came for tea every afternoon.
Lotte pushed down the handle and pulled open the door to look into the spotted, wrinkled and worried face of her neighbour.

"Oh Lotte. Poor Lotte.. It's started. The war. They just announced it on the broadcast. It's a raid, Lotte. The Lord General said he will purge the elves from our midst. Close the door, Lotte, don't let anyone in. They're on their way up." Emilia's eyes shone with tears and she patted Lotte's cheek as she spoke.
Lotte stood frozen in the doorway, one hand in her pocket, clutching the writhing, wriggling form of the dragon and the other hand on the door handle. It wasn't a good idea to keep her door open for long, too much dust and smoke would enter.
She wanted to ask Emilia what to do, but what would her neighbour know? She felt...numb. The letter from Serades had finally arrived. She could finally leave Raidox and Agathara altogether. She had felt freer in the past hour than she felt for years and now...

It was over. The war was here. Her own death was climbing the tower even as she thought these thoughts.

"Make one of your magic drawings..." Emilia said, her voice shaking. "Find a way to get away."

Lotte's eyebrows shot up in surprise and her neighbour chuckled at her expression. "That drawing you made me to be hung over my bed lessened my cough, and the embroidery you sewed into my dress put some more spring into this old hip of mine. I've known all along, Lotte, and I've known that there isn't a speck of bad in you either..."

"Emi," Lotte croaked, but beyond that words failed her.

"You do something magic, Lotte, you must."

Lotte shook her head and Emilia opened her mouth to say something more, but then there was shouting—and screaming and gunfire from down below. Emilia retreated from the doorway and Lotte pulled the heavy metal door shut, locking and latching and bolting. Her lips trembled, she let Fintan escape her pocket, she felt tears sting her eyes.
She was sixty stories high and there was only one way down. Sullivan tower used to house the factory workers before the automation dwindled the numbers required to work the factory. Most of these towers became the slums of Raidox. Who but the impoverished and half breeds would agree to live so near the factories?

Every room would be searched, no corner would be left unchecked. They would find her and they would shoot her dead.

There was nothing to do but to listen as the tower was purged of half-breeds.

She flopped down onto the stool before her work desk. She looked at Fintan who was sifting through the washed brushes hanging by strings upside down above the sink. She had been so close to saving herself and getting away. If only she had listened to Mr. Henri when he warned her this would happen.

But a war between Agathara and Lasuran? It just didn't seem plausible at the time.

From the corner of her desk, she pulled a flat box which she opened to reveal a single sheet of precious uterine vellum. It had cost a small fortune, and she had treasured it, imagining what she could do with writing material of such quality.

Now she would never know.

Fintan landed on her arm, his small claws digging into her skin as he pointed his nose at the vellum and then at the window. Lotte raised her eyebrow at him, what was he trying to tell her? Footsteps drummed from within the tower, more gunshots rang, this time closer.

Lotte picked up a nearby pen and dipped it in ink. She didn't know what she was doing, but she couldn't just sit here and wait. She had to do something.

Fintan fluttered away, only to return with one of her brushes. Yes, that was the brush she needed. She offered him a smile before she reached across for a jar of red paint—the kind Poe had taught her how to mix.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Shrieks. Gunshots. Marching boots.

Lotte threw aside her brush and blew on the paint, willing it to dry.

They were coming, they were nearer now. Coming closer and closer.

They were almost here.

They were at her door.

She sprung to her feet, toppling her stool and stuffed the vellum into her shirt, plastering it to her chest as the deafening blows against her door rang in her ears.

She threw herself at the window, grasping the rungs of the round window latch and grunting with effort as she turned it. The window flew open almost into her face as a gust of foul wind slapped her cheeks. She lowered her goggles down and lifted up her scarf to cover her mouth, stuffing the letter from Serades into her pocket and hoisting the pack she always carried into the city onto her back.

She braced herself against the frame. She was skinny and could fit through, she knew. But the distance to the ground made her hesitate.

Poe had taught her so much about enchantments, but had forbidden her to actually do anything beyond the pettiest of magic. What if it failed? Enchantments often failed. Sometimes you got them wrong and just wouldn't know you did until it was too late.

Her stomach churned, toes curling in her boots. Up until that moment, she had never come to appreciate how eternally large the sky was, or what an unfathomable distance sixty stories up actually was.

The door tore from its hinges, falling with a dull thud to the floor. A uniform-clad man stood in the doorway. Lotte looked down the barrel of his gun. Even through his shaded goggles, she could see his eyes.

Cold. So cold. A killer that felt nothing.

She didn't know how she did it so fast, but she slithered through the window and out into the open air just as a gunshot rang.

She clung to the jagged frame of the window with all that space all around her. The soldier appeared at the window. He raised his rifle, aiming it right at her head.

The shot rang like a crack of thunder as the gales around Sullivan tower picked up speed and plucked her away.

She didn't fall immediately. The wind pummelled her in a half circle, the land below becoming a blur.

Then she began falling.

Down and down and down. The air roared in her ears. She couldn't even open her mouth to scream.
Fintan fluttered by her head. The ground drew closer and closer. She shut her eyes—

And stopped.

It was peculiar. It felt like her body had become insubstantial.

Lotte felt pressure in her ears as, instead of falling, she began soaring upward. She opened her eyes wide, as the vast, endless city of Raidox, with its countless jutting towers, spread beneath her. Fintan flapped in circles round her body, she stole a glance behind at the slowly shrinking tower before shooting forward towards the horizon.

Elves drew enchantments in ink underneath their skin giving them powers like these. But even tattoo enchantments ran out after a time and had to be replenished.

The vellum was heating against her skin. It wouldn't last long. Perhaps this enchantment would take her beyond the boundaries of the city, reducing her chances of discovery—but that was a lot to ask for from a little enchantment.

For now, though...for now, just in that moment, Lotte had hope.