A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 45 Nevelyn Tin’vori

45 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

Nevelyn had not known how breathlessly complex magic could be.

The core of her own spellwork had always been so simple. She could either fade from existence or consume someone’s attention entirely. Push and pull. Her reliance on those two powerful spells meant that she’d never really devoted time to learning more. Aside from a deep dive into the world of weaving magic, she’d never had any additional education.

The truth was she’d been denied the opportunity. When they fled from Kathor, they went to places that were best for hiding—not training young spellcasters. Even Ravinia, a proper city, had nothing like Balmerick. And if they had, what school would have accepted a trio of orphans who had no money to pay them with? She’d spent two days at Balmerick and it took about that amount of time to realize just how much she’d missed out on. First, she’d listened in as Avid—a girl who was not a day older than fifteen—taught foundational spellwork to children. The structure of her lesson had been stunning. How certain spells could be built upon. How one sort of knowledge led to another and another. And Nevelyn knew that Avid’s lessons were merely a test of that world. Designed specifically so that children could process the information.

Now she watched Avid’s grandmother flex those basic concepts to their natural breaking points. It was devastatingly complex. The old prune could hardly walk across campus, but the moment they set her before the great wax sculpture in the portal room, she began dismantling decades-old spells with little more than a flick of her bony wrist. Bright sparks splashed into the air every few seconds. Nevelyn couldn’t understand what each color and shape meant. Ren Monroe, on the other hand, seemed to be reading what was happening like someone perusing an enjoyable book. Written in a language she was intimately familiar with. Every now and again, Nevelyn saw the other girl nod in approval at a certain spell Ingrid was using. On the far end of the room, Avid Shiverian was seated—and hiding yawns.

Gods, she’s bored with magic I can’t even understand.

After dispelling the magic built into the surrounding walls, Ingrid began to focus on the wax sculpture itself. Here, she finally began to struggle. Avid noticed. The younger girl snuffed one final yawn, crossed the room, and set a hand on her grandmother’s back to keep her steady and upright. Nevelyn saw movement bubbling along the surface of the wax. Almost as if they’d lit a fire beneath the entire sculpture. Slowly, it was becoming more malleable. Flattening into a shapeless mass.

On her first two attempts, the map shivered back to its original form. That flawless layout of Kathor with all its buildings and canals and districts. Ingrid unleashed some of the more inventive swear words that Nevelyn had ever heard. When she finished cursing the universe, she’d resume the task as if she were beginning for the very first time. Her third effort crossed a threshold the others hadn’t. The sprawl of buildings melted fully down into the overall surface of the sculpture. Bubbling until the land was just one, featureless sphere. The way it might have looked before any of the great houses arrived in Kathor. A land ruled by dragons and the wild.

It was then that Nevelyn noticed the sphere was turning . Almost too quick to notice at all. The entire object, rotating beneath Ingrid’s pruned fingertips. She waited until just the right moment and then stabbed her wand down straight into the wax. The vessel nearly cracked. Nevelyn heard it. That first creak of wood on the verge of giving way, but then magic forked outward. Tonguing like lightning through the sphere itself. Avid was forced to plant her feet as the reverberations from that magic nearly buckled her grandmother’s knees.

But it was working .

Nevelyn saw little hills spawning across the surface. Mountains rising like the teeth of some slumbering beast. Hundreds of saplings grew into hundreds of trees that formed dozens of forests. A single candle appeared—wick and all—at the heart of the display. That was when Ingrid lost her grip on the magic. The spell slipped away from her with a whispering snicker. Like someone had punched the room in the stomach and all the wind had gone rushing out. Ingrid staggered into the nearest chair with Avid’s help. Ren frowned at the final display.

“It’s incomplete.”

She was right. That much was obvious. The central area of the display was flawless. All the forests surrounded a sloping hill that led right up to the outer wall of a city: Meredream. The candle had risen just outside those looming gates. But the farther the eye moved from that location, the less defined everything looked. Ingrid’s chest was still heaving. Those ice-blue eyes were wide and unfocused. It took a moment for her to recover. When she did, she scowled at her own creation like an artist who’d just used the wrong color.

“Well. Best I can manage,” she replied. “It should work just fine.”

Nevelyn couldn’t help echoing that word. “Should?”

“If you can improve it, be my guest,” the old woman replied. “Now, I’d like some tea. Fetch me a cup. None of that flavored garbage, either. I want something dark and strong. Bring me a proper mug for it too.”

Nevelyn felt like the old woman might deserve a cup of tea thrown in her face—but thankfully, Ren Monroe replied before she could suggest that. “I’ll get the tea.”

“I’ll help,” Nevelyn said, eager to escape.

As they retreated, she heard Ingrid muttering to her granddaughter.

“Takes two of them to make tea? I’m starting to doubt that magic will survive, dear.”

Ren apparently heard too. The two of them smirked at each other. Once they were out of earshot, Nevelyn nudged the other girl’s shoulder. “Hey. Do you really think that sculpture will work? I’m not eager to let Josey get lost in the waxways because that old crone can’t finish a spell.”

“The underlying magic is sound. I was following every casting, just in case. She hasn’t lost her touch. I’m pretty sure Avid was doing the same. It will work. It might just require a longer burn than—”

Monroe was cut off by a distant rumble. A second one. A third. The ground beneath them shook with the impact of some distant explosion. Both of them held out their arms for balance, and then their eyes met. “That’s up here,” Nevelyn said. “How else would we feel it?”

Two buildings—the library and the dining hall—were cutting off their view of the rest of the Heights. Ren led them, jogging to the right in an effort to maintain their current elevation. Slowly, the answer came into view. Fires were raging through the neighborhood she’d heard others refer to as the Pearl Quarter. Once, that portion of the city had been heralded as the single-greatest architectural accomplishment of the magical era. But as she watched, the white-walled exteriors blackened. Flames roared higher and higher—until the wards between houses shattered . The magic had been designed for exactly this moment. If one house went up in flames, the others would be spared. The problem was that there were little fires everywhere. Pressing in on the wards from too many directions. Draining the magical defenses slowly but surely.

All they could do was watch as the fire leapt from one house to another to another. Great clouds of smoke began to churn in the sky above. It was like watching the end of the world.