Boris ran his eyes over me. "Why do you want to be a Dragon, little girl?"

So I clasped my hands before me and dropped my face towards the ground. "Because I want to be strong and sure and brave. I want to stay here and prove I can help." I licked my lips, feeling like all of my reasons were stupid. "Because I don't want to be a Mole anymore, sir."

"Ah, and there it is," he praised. "So what sign do you want?"

"You'll do it?" Kanik asked. "Jerlis hasn't exactly approved this."

The old man scoffed. "I make the signs. My family has been naming Dragons since before Jerlis's ancestors came to Lorsa. My family, boy. We decide who are Dragons and who aren't." Then he lifted the silver thing in his hand. "This is the only way to become a Dragon. Not with some papers in City Hall. Not with votes or friends or buying people off. This!"

"See," Jeera said smugly. "Told you this was a good idea."

Then Boris lowered the hourglass-shaped hunk of metal and set it on the table. His eyes turned to me. "Being a Dragon isn't about rules and regulations. It isn't about tails or not!" He gestured to his own tailless rump. "Being a Dragon is about embracing yourself and all that you are. So what are you, Ayla-who-used-to-be-a-Mole?"

Confused, I looked back at Jeera. "What's yours?" I asked.

"The Basilisk," she said. "My entire family has myth-based signs. Dad was an Eastern Dragon. Mom is the Griffin. Zasen, of course, is the Wyvern."

"Dragonfly," Kanik offered up. "I like their pretty colors, and since I didn't get much of my own, I thought picking that would make up for it."

"And Rymar's the Rose," I said, proving I knew that. "Because he's so brightly colored?"

"Exactly!" Jeera agreed. "A sign can be anything you can depict. Plant, animal, myth, or whatever else you feel fits you best."

"It just cannot be what another person has already claimed," Boris told me. "Every person is unique. Every sign is a chance to show that."

"Maybe I should be gold?" I asked. "Since that's what they keep saying. Zasen thinks what I know is worth gold. My hair is gold."

"Do you think you are valuable?" Boris asked.

I clenched my hands a little tighter. "No."

"Then not gold," he told me. "So who are you?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Why do you not know?" he pressed.

I glanced at Kanik to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. He nodded encouragingly. Jeera just reached over to rub my shoulder. It felt like permission, so I lifted my eyes to meet the old man's. They were brown. Light brown, and soft, but somehow it felt like they could see right through me.

"I've never been allowed to know who I am," I explained. "In the compound, women were only taught our place, not allowed to have opinions, and raised to serve men."

"And now?" he asked.

"It was all lies," I told him. "Everything they said to us was a lie. They did it to make us helpless, to keep us weak so they could use us! They lied to me about everything! And up here, it's nothing like they said. You're not a wild man. My friends aren't demons who serve the Devil!"

"But all of that is about someone else," he pointed out. "Who are you, Ayla? Why do you think you're no longer a Mole?"

"Because I know it's a lie," I breathed. "I know it's wrong, and maybe I don't know what's right, but I'm going to learn it. And until then, I will do everything I can to stop the men. I will make sure they can't hurt children! I may not know anything else, but I know it's wrong to hurt people. I know Dragons are good, and strong, and amazing. I know this place is the best place I've ever been!"

"She's been working hard too," Kanik added. "We've thrown so much at her, completely changing her view of everything, and she just discards what she knew and embraces our way."

"Does she now?" Boris asked, sounding pleased. "What do you think, Jeera?"

"I think she's brave, and while she's not like other people I know, Ayla's amazing in her own way. She's completely remaking herself, and who knows how she'll end up, but she deserves this."

"Remaking, hm?" He grinned, showing he had all of his teeth. "Well, isn't that an interesting choice of words."

Then he snatched a pad of paper and a pen. His hands began moving furiously. Jeera and Kanik shifted closer, both of them trying to see without leaning in too obviously. I didn't know what was going on, but it felt like this was very important.

After a couple of minutes, Boris dropped the paper on his table and nudged it to the edge so we could all see. A sly smile had claimed his lips.

"Phoenix," he said.

"No one has claimed the phoenix?" Jeera asked.

"Not many rise from the ashes of the old to burn brightly as the new," he said. "This young woman, I think, has. I think she will do it over and over again as much as she needs to."

"So you'll make it?" Kanik asked.

"Boy, are you blind?" And Boris thrust an arm out towards me. "Look at her. Look hard. That woman is not a Mole! She's not a mere refugee. Hidden under her downcast eyes and pretty little posture? There's a Dragon in there. A fierce one. It just needs to hatch."

"We're trying to help her," Kanik assured him.

Boris chuckled. "And you are, but she's the one rising from her own ashes. It isn't an easy thing to do. It isn't something a weak person can do, Ayla, so I will make your sign. What do you think? Do you want to be a phoenix, or does that not call to you?"

I knew the story of the bird that burned itself apart and rose again. It had been in those books I wasn't supposed to have read. They were always drawn in reds, golds, and other fire colors. It was said they could heal with their tears.

So I nodded. "I want to be a phoenix, sir."

"No," he corrected. "Not a phoenix, Ayla. The Phoenix. To take this as your sign will let it define you. Are you willing to rise again and again if you have to? To never give up. To burn when it is necessary and fly when that is better?"

My shoulders relaxed at his words, because that was exactly what I wanted to do. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, and my head along with it. My hands let go of each other and fell to my sides. The Phoenix. Not a phoenix. Not one of many. He was saying this could be me!

"That's exactly what I want to be, sir."

Boris simply leaned back for a very ancient-looking book. Dropping it on the table before him, he eased open the cover and then flipped through the pages. All I could see were lines of writing. Not like paragraphs, but more like a list.

Then he reached the last page, where the words stopped a quarter of the way down. "On this day," he said as he took a pen and began writing, "I, Boris the Scribe, name you, Ayla, as the Phoenix. The mark will be that of a flaming bird rising." Then he turned the book and offered me his pen. "All you have to do is sign here. You can sign your name, right?"

"Yes, sir. It's the same in English or Vestrian."

"Just your first name," Kanik said quickly.

"She has another?" Boris asked.

"A last name. It was her father's, like they used to do in the old days."

Boris made a disgusted noise at that. "To make her the possession of her parents."