Heir of Illusions and Others

The pale blue-green jewel winked in the sunlight that streamed through our large front windows.
"I think this will be a better fit for you, Endri," my father, Pazho, said.
He shook his long, white-blond hair out of his eyes. "Tourmaline is a stone of stabilization, of protection. And," he winked, "it matches your eyes."
"Ha, very funny, Father," I said, widening my dark brown eyes at him.
"You never know. Perhaps your other self will have blue eyes."
I smiled sadly as I reached for the teal-colored, slightly translucent pendant. It was a lovely jewel, and would probably make a good soulstone for me. But …
"We've tried two others, and neither of them worked," I sighed. "Perhaps we should just accept that I'll never be able to transform."
Pazho closed my fingers around the gem. The thin leather cord attached to it hung from trailed from my closed fist. "Oh, Endri. Don't say never. You'll get it soon, I'm sure."
I gazed out the window. Our next door neighbor was outside, beating her rugs on the stone path. Dust clouded up, and she stopped to sneeze.
I sighed again and met my father's concerned eyes. "I'll try, Father. But it's hard not to be discouraged."
"I understand." He patted my hand. "I'll go and get all the things we need for the soulstone creation."
Pazho stood up and disappeared into the kitchen. I opened my hand and studied the tourmaline, and the faint scar on my palm next to it. Yet another cut was coming. Great.
Here in the kingdom of Annlyn, the people were able to shift forms, learning at a young age which animal would be their second self. By adolescence, the shapeshifters had mastered their ability, usually with the help of a soulstone. The more you used your soulstone, the more your magic became tied to it. So, picking a gem to become your soulstone was quite important. Fully connecting yourself to your soulstone required a small ceremony that involved a bit of bloodletting.
I had merged with two other soulstones before this, and both times the gems had ultimately failed.
With the first soulstone, I had been unable to transform, even after years of trying. Pazho, after much observation, had decided that perhaps I hadn't merged with the soulstone like we had thought, and we got rid of the jewel.
The second soulstone cracked right after I joined with it.
The failed soulstone issue wouldn't have been so worrying, except for one other fact: I was past the age of my majority. Everyone else had mastered shifting by the age of thirteen or fourteen. When my birth parents had brought me to Pazho, a well-respected scholar, for help, I had already been fifteen, much older than other first-time shifters.
They never came back for me. I never saw them around the capital city, where Pazho lived. Perhaps they had left the kingdom of Annlyn altogether.
I suppose they knew, deep down, that I'd never master shifting, and they had decided it was a convenient way to be rid of me.
But Pazho and his mate, Denaan, never made me feel inferior, even though the cloud of my failure always hung over my head. Instead, they had taken me in, quietly adopting me—and proving to be truer parents than the ones who had left me behind ever were.
Pazho, his arms full, dropped several items on the table in front of me. I began organizing them, used to the routine by now. The candle went to my left. Bandages and towels, to my right. The small black pot I moved in front of me. I picked up the pitcher and poured water into the pot, while Pazho heated a knife in the fireplace.
Hmm. Something was missing. Oh, yes—I jumped up and walked into the kitchen, scooping up some jars of dried herbs on the open pantry shelf.
"Thank you, Endri," Pazho said. "There was too much for me to carry."
"You're welcome," I said, as I added a scoop from each jar to the pot.
Pazho finished heating the knife and placed it on the table to cool. I hung the pot on a hook over the fire.
While I waited for the water to boil, I said to Pazho, "Do you think this time it will work?"
Pazho nodded. "Of course it will. This time we have the perfect jewel for you. And, remember, you're not the only one who is a late shifter. Queen Jennica of Calia was a late shapeshifter, and now she's quite adept at transforming."
I smiled indulgently. Whenever I felt down about my lack of shapeshifting ability, Pazho often invoked Queen Jennica of Calia. I had never met her, but apparently a few years ago she had met my father, and he had given her the gem that would become her soulstone. She had been around my age—nineteen—when she first learned to shift into her dragon form. I refrained from commenting that the queen already had a background in magic, so she at least understood the theory even if she couldn't do it. And she hadn't even known she could become a dragon until she met my father, so she hadn't known what she was missing.
I acutely knew what I was unable to do.
Also, from the stories my father told me, Queen Jennica had shown signs of shapeshifting power when she was young. I had never manifested any powers—hence my abandonment on Pazho and Denaan's doorstep.
My silence must have spoken volumes to Pazho, for he stood up and embraced me. "We'll get it this time, Endri. We will."
Tears pricked my eyes. His encouragement gave me hope—as did the knowledge that he didn't view it as a "me" issue, but a "we" issue.
The water in the pot started bubbling. I grabbed a towel and took the pot from the flame, placing it carefully on the table.
"Shall we?" Pazho held up the now-cooled knife.
I nodded and held out my hand, palm up. Pazho made a quick cut near my old scar, and tipped my hand sideways so my blood dripped into the pot. I scrunched my nose, disgusted by the odd metallic herbal smell in the air.
When the water turned muddy, he put the necklace into the pot, pendant first. "Junctus. May the two become one. Fiat."
There was a flash, and I gagged as the sickly smell grew stronger. Then it disappeared. The pot was empty, except for my necklace.
I grabbed a strip of cloth and bandaged my hand, then reached into the pot and grabbed my new soulstone. It shimmered in my hand, bright with new magic and full of promise.
Just like the other ones had.
"How does it feel?" Pazho searched my face, wide-eyed and curious.
I touched the stone with my good hand. It felt warm, and hummed with a pleasant energy. "Not bad. Time will tell, I guess."
"I guess," Pazho echoed. He sounded disappointed, as if he expected a stronger reaction. I felt a bit guilty for not being more enthusiastic, but I also didn't want to get my hopes up again.
My father sighed. "Well, let's clean up. And then we can try—"
There was a knock at the front door.
Pazho frowned. We had been so busy with the soulstone, we hadn't noticed anyone approaching the house.
He stood up and opened the front door. A middle-aged woman fell into the room, frantic. "Oh, Pazho! I'm so glad you're home! I need your help, right away!"