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Chris sat cross-legged on the floor of his room. Jack had suggested using this one because it was empty and had something called neutral energy, which he grasped meant there wouldn’t be any external inference from rogue magic that a house like Crofton Hall would have. He was working through several breathing exercises. He’d been enjoying having a body, the eating and even the excretion of food were fascinating, but he decided he liked practising deliberate breathing. Lungs were so spongy.

Jack had suggested he meditate a little to try to delve into his magic before he cast to see what he could find. He’d always had his echo, and his new magic felt like more of the same. A lot more, but nothing to worry about. It reminded him of a puppy, eager and wanting to be played with and tamed. He wasn’t sure what Jack would say, he might be surprised about how much he had because he was definitely masking earlier, as if he’d laid a thick cloak over a bundle of energy. The cloak reminded him of the one he’d been given when he’d come of age—dark red and soft.

Chris’s eyes flew open; he hadn’t had that memory before, and he was sure it was real, alongside one of a horse called Tril and a dark-haired man, the same one from his dream. Dillin. They’d kissed under an apple tree and gone on to do more than a kiss on top of that cloak. He would have died for him, and instead, when he was murdered, he’d killed in his name.

He jolted as a hand landed on his shoulder; he hadn’t noticed Jack arrive. “Chris, are you okay?”

“I don’t know… I’m getting memories, like my dreams.”

Jack sat next to him on the floor. “Are you remembering your dreams?”

He didn’t think it was that. “No, these are real. I think the dreams were real, too. Jack, what if I am him?”

Jack laced their fingers together. “You are Chris, that is who you are now.”

“You think I’m him?”

“I think it’s a possibility and one we should face rather than pretend otherwise. But it’s not the only explanation. As I said to Ben, even if you are him, that was a long time ago, you have served your time. You are not the same elf any longer.”

“I loved a man called Dillin; he was a fellow sorcerer, gentle and clever.” Chris could see his face and remember his voice. “I’d already become known for being powerful. Various elf leaders were demanding I join them, and one decided to try to convince me, but I would not be swayed. His pride had been hurt by my refusal, so he ordered Dillin to be killed. I found him, his blood still wet and my world spun on its axis. I’d already been skirting the boundaries of dark magic, and he was one of the true lights in my life that stopped me from falling, but that moment, with him gone, I let it consume me.”

Chris sobbed. His thoughts were patchy. His loss of Dillin felt as real as if it were yesterday. Dillin would have hated what Christopholous had become. The loss of one life could not justify what had come next. His memories weren’t clear, he could only see snippets, and while he could sense his anger and his hatred, there was also pain for what he had lost. For Christopholous, there had been no remorse, but as Chris, the elf he was now, he could never do such things.

Jack gathered him into his arms. “Whatever you are thinking, it is not you. Not anymore. You are Chris, and your future is not defined. We need to keep you safe because I don’t know what will happen if they prove he was who you were.”

“How do we do that?”

“From what Alex said, Christopholous must have had an extraordinary level of magic. If we can demonstrate you have nothing like that amount of power and what you do have isn’t considered dark, then I think that would show you are different.”

Chris stared down at their joined hands and lifted the velvet blanket cloaking his magic—it flew out of him into Jack, as it had been doing over the last few weeks to cure him. Chris hadn’t realised that was what was happening, but there was no mistaking that was the case.

Jack gasped. “Chris, you’re… oh my. How did I not notice this before?”

“Because I didn’t know I was hiding it, I’ve set it free to show you.” He didn’t know what to do. “I have no idea how to use any of it, all I can tell you is there is a big golden ball of energy at my centre.”

“Gold, not blue?” Jack asked.

Chris shook his head. Jack had explained how an individual’s magic manifested in a certain colour, Jack’s blue-green, Ashley’s red, and he could guess the change of colour might be another issue. “I think I even masked the colour.”

“This might be a problem.”

“But it’s not like how my magic used to be, it’s softer, light, and there’s no malice. I don’t want to use it to hurt people, that must count for something.”

Jack’s expression didn’t look hopeful. “We can make sound arguments around your intent. Or perhaps we can research ways to limit your magic. If you don’t use it, then you might not miss it, but we need to make sure there’s no risk to you by doing so.”

“How can we do that?”

“I’ll need time to look into it. I can ask Ashley to help.”

Something shifted inside of him, and he knew it wasn’t a good thing. “My magic won’t like being caged again.”

“I suppose being locked away for a couple of thousand years would mean it wouldn’t like to be put back in the box.” Jack kissed his forehead. “We’ll come up with something.”

“Thank you, Jack. For all you’ve done.”

“Chris, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I want you to know I love you, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe, and I hope that includes keeping us together.”

Losing the last person he’d loved had caused his descent into darkness, but he wasn’t Christopholous; he was Chris, and Jack was the first person Chris had ever loved. He kissed him. “I love you too, Jack.”

He would protect his warlock with every fibre of his existence. Jack would know what it would be like to be cherished and important. He’d spent his life hiding his siren ancestry, having people shun him when they found out, or not realise how wonderful a man he was, and Chris would not stand for it any longer.

“We need to plan. First, you need to practise keeping your magic under wraps. I’m not sure how feasible that is in the long run, and you will need proper training to show you’re committed to controlling it.”

“How will I get that?”

“Most learn as they grow, family or tutors, and I think elves are the same. If we can convince Alex you’re not a danger, I would ask him to help.”

Alex hadn’t given him any indication he thought Chris was anything other than a disaster waiting to happen. “We might struggle there.”

“We may be surprised. I’ll talk to him after Dorian’s been. Perhaps if you share your magic with him, he’ll see what I do and that you’re not a danger.”

Chris would do as Jack suggested, but he wasn’t sure Alex would be swayed. “He’ll still be an elf.”

“It’s not the elves who punished Christopholous but the fae. And Alex isn’t going to hand you over to the elves or fae. He’s at Crofton Hall for a reason, he’s not a fan of his own kind and they aren’t fond of him either.”

Alex’s woes weren’t his problem unless he could use them to his advantage. “I guess we just need to be patient and see if the dragon calls out my jar.”

“Let me handle that, you stay away, and we will claim no knowledge of you being Christopholous. If I were you, if you have to say anything, I wouldn’t admit you’ve begun to remember things.”

He reckoned he could do that, and letting Jack handle as much as possible would be a good plan. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”

For all he knew, the next few days could decide his fate. He wanted to be with Jack as much as possible, he had some memories of the sex he’d had in his past life but Jack was different, a more experienced version of Dillin, yet different in so many ways.

Jack kissed him and Chris wanted more. “How about we pass the time getting further acquainted with my body?”

“It might be sensible, to make sure I’m not overlooking something.”

Chris pounced and pinned Jack to the floor. “I insist on being thorough.”