Stranger pets.

The giants were strange—fascinatingly, delightfully strange.

For one, they had no wings. Not even a single pair, let alone four like mine—translucent and delicate, shimmering with every movement. Their skin wasn't smooth and gleaming like my green scales, which layered together so seamlessly they looked like a single polished surface. My underbelly was purple, soft and warm, while pink fur adorned the ridge of my spine and the crown of my head like a proud crest. The giants, by contrast, had barely any fur except for thick tufts on top of their heads. Just enough to be amusing.

Their eyes were odd too—vibrant and colorful like cut gems, though not as marvelous as mine, which mirrored the many-faceted gaze of a dragonfly. And size-wise? They were massive. I wasn't even as tall as half of one of their fingers! To them, I must have seemed like a sparkle of dust that moved too much.

They were omnivores, a word I had learned after years of watching them eat both plants and meat. Curious creatures. I only ever craved meat—rich, fragrant, nourishing. And they didn't glow. Not like me, not ever. My light was soft and pink, a gentle radiance from within. They didn't have antennae either—how did they feel the hum of the wind or the rhythm of the realms?

Their homes were just as strange. Instead of sleeping on petals or nestled in leaf hollows as I once did, they carved towering dens from soft stone and metal. When I first arrived, I rested in the crooks of houseplants or drifted off atop pillow piles. Eventually, they made me a nest—crafted of delicate glass and shimmering metal, like a lantern with a silver perch. I rather liked it.

Even stranger, they had no spirits bound to them . Not a single one! None, no water spirit that took on the form of a guppy to give them water or a frost spirit to make snow for them . Could they even see them? I doubted it. I had dozens—mischievous, loyal, sometimes cranky—but always there. Yet the giants walked alone.

They gathered in great numbers, always chattering, living together in tangled cities full of lights and smells and rushing sounds. I lived alone. Their lives burned fast, like wildfires—ten thousand days if they were lucky, then gone.

Yes, they were odd. But that's why they became my second-favorite animal, just after salamanders. At least the giants could talk. They had names, called themselves "humans," and decided mine was "Pixie"—which was rude, but I didn't correct them. I picked a name for myself instead: Salamander. A proper name. A strong name.

I stayed with them for a few hundred of their years—long enough to learn their ways, watch them change, watch them vanish. They were endlessly entertaining, always rushing about doing something, always worrying about "work," even when my spirits offered to help. Why, I asked? Why must they toil so frantically?

The answer, whispered from their mouths with dread, was always the same: the Tithe.

A shadow that loomed over them all, it took the strong and the young—their best ones, the brightest ones. It left behind tears and empty houses. Even when I begged for answers, they barely noticed. Their ears were hopelessly dull. So I asked differently. I summoned a tremor spirit to etch my questions into the old human stones.

Eventually, they understood.

They told me the Tithe demanded shiny things—precious metals, polished gems. If they could not pay, it would take them all. Every last one. To some place they called "eternal rest," which sounded boring and too quiet.

So I asked what I could do to help.

They said I could go with the Tithe. To another place. To make shiny things. To save them.

Of course I agreed. I didn't even hesitate. Anything for my strange, funny, oversized pets.

And now, here I was—curled in my new nest, the lantern they gave me for the journey, a pointy bit of metal, they called it a star, silly thing that they were, I called it mine.

"Hm," I mused aloud, watching the world ripple past through the glass, "I wonder what silly things humans do when they migrate."

No one answered. But that was alright.

I had time to find out.