Chapter V. Domenic
V
DOMENIC
SUMMER
Thirty minutes after Domenic staggered home from Mercester Square, he soaked his blistered, frostbitten hands in the bathroom sink. He couldn’t stop shivering.
I told you a cataclysm’s coming, Hanna had said that night in the Vault. And even with Valmordion to save us, we all need to be ready if we’re gonna survive it.
What Domenic’s favorite movies about heroes never got right about surviving a disaster was that the whole of you didn’t.
Pieces of yourself would always remain there, buried amid the other bodies and the wreckage.
Because when you desperately, agonizingly clawed your way out, you couldn’t carry everything with you.
But he hadn’t simply lost pieces—he’d lost almost everything. And he feared if he did survive whatever horror the cataclysm held, nothing of himself would be left at all.
He startled as the front door burst open. Heels clacked from the foyer.
“Dom?” a voice called frantically—Iseul. “Dom, are you home?”
“I’m here.” He emerged into the parlor, where Iseul rushed to inspect the ghastly white of his fingertips, the terror still etched on his face.
“It was you. I knew it. As soon as we heard, I raced home, and … Oh, Dom.” She threw her arms around him, and though Domenic still shivered, finally, he was warm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he answered automatically.
“But you’re shaking. And your hands. Come.
Sit.” She steered him to the sofa, and they both sank into the velvet cushions.
Iseul withdrew Calynia from her purse. It was a beautiful wand, its walnut wood laced with perforations as delicate as a butterfly net.
Iseul claimed it was her lifeline. It maintained the details of her schedule, attentively handled the combined storm of three untidy magicians under a single roof.
Already, its housekeeping enchantments got to work at her arrival.
In the kitchen, pots and pans clattered as they set about preparing supper.
The candle on the coffee table ignited, smelling soothingly of gardenia.
As Iseul examined his hands, Domenic asked, “What did you hear?”
“The NDC called us as soon as they reached the square. A winterghast in Summer! And in Gallamere! It’s unprecedented.
The only reason it broke through the city’s defenses was because we weren’t prepared, not off-season.
The office—it’s already in havoc. Tenney’s rushing down from the border of the fallen territory, and Sharpe and the rest of the team are scrambling to draft a statement. ”
“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” As the Director of Public Relations for the Council, Iseul Seong acted as the primary spokesperson of the Magicians Order.
Amid the fog of foreboding since Valmordion’s awakening, it’d been Iseul reassuring the public each night on the radio or each morning in the papers.
And though Iseul never complained, the increased stress of her already stressful job was taking its toll.
Purple pooled beneath her dark eyes that not even powder could conceal.
Her short gray hair, normally neatly curled, hung limp and flat.
And a pallor seeped across her already fair skin.
“I had to make sure you were all right,” Iseul answered. “Hanna wanted to come, too, but Glynn needed her to consult Syarthis’s Archives about any past unseasonal winterghasts. But maybe I should call her. You haven’t developed frostmaul, but corporeal magic isn’t Calynia’s specialty.…”
“No, I don’t want to bother her. And I’m not going to the hospital.” He couldn’t handle more people—not tonight.
Iseul heaved out a breath. “Fine, fine. I’ll do my best. But you need to hold still.”
But Domenic couldn’t stop quivering, and Iseul’s brow creased in concentration as she cast Calynia. Gradually, his blisters receded, and pink bloomed across his fingers.
“Thanks.” He drew away and wrapped the blankets tighter around himself. “But I don’t get it. How did you know I was there?” He’d fled Mercester Square shortly after Caldwell.
“Because of the eyewitness descriptions. Male, slender, fair, very freckled, about six and a half feet tall. How many academy students does that sound like to you?” Her soft laugh wilted into a sigh.
“Ellery Caldwell was recognized at the scene, which is no surprise, given how famous she is. But it’s only a matter of time before reporters identify you as well, if they haven’t already. ”
Domenic stiffened. He remembered all too well how flocks of reporters used to accost him outside the Citadel, the months he entered and exited this house through the back door.
“But you c-can’t…” Domenic stammered. “I mean, you can’t stop them—?”
“I can’t keep your name out of it. I’m sorry. But it won’t be like last time. A pair of teenage magicians slaying a winterghast with training wands? Dom, that’s incredible. That’s—”
“I never would’ve been able to without Caldwell.
She was the one who kept a level head, who told me what to do and helped me do it.
She was…” He couldn’t even think of a word for Caldwell in those moments: her voice clear over the whirling wind, her determination unfaltering even as the world caved in around them.
“Yeah, I cast some strong magic. We saved all those people. But I never thought of them—not once. All I was thinking about was getting out of there alive. Because for a few minutes, I really believed I wouldn’t. Just like…”
He clenched the blankets in his fists. His windpipe felt narrowed to the size of a drinking straw.
“Hey. Hey.” Iseul rested her hand atop his. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. You’re home.”
Domenic nodded, sucking in shallow breaths. He was safe. He was home.
Six years ago, gossip had flared across the Order after Councilor Seong had volunteered to take in two fledgling magicians.
And not just any two, but a thirteen-year-old girl who’d bonded with a notorious wand under the most traumatic of circumstances, and the automotive tycoon’s son who’d been the sole other survivor.
While most had chalked up her decision to her recent divorce, Domenic and Hanna knew better—Iseul understood how it felt to survive a disaster.
When she was a student herself, a classmate had tried to murder her after already killing two of her friends, all to decrease the competition for Calynia, one of Alderland’s most powerful enchantment wands.
“I don’t get how it could’ve been me again,” Domenic rasped.
“What do you mean?” Iseul asked gently.
“Ever since Valmordion started thawing, all I’ve been able to think about is what’s coming.
It doesn’t matter if I’m here, at the Gardens …
I can’t stop, like I can feel doom breathing down my neck.
And just when I try to do something fun and take my mind off it, what happens?
I’m face-to-face with the first fucking winterghast to breach Gallamere in centuries.
” He laughed darkly and smeared the tears out of his eyes.
“All these years, I’ve been trying to get better—really, I have.
I’ve told myself over and over that what happened was bad luck, and this cataclysm that’s about to show up, it won’t touch me.
But then this happens, and it’s getting a hell of a lot harder to ignore that voice in my head, you know?
The one that keeps reminding me that bad luck finds me.
It always finds me. And so if this cataclysm could really destroy Alderland, well, even if Alderland survives, there’s no way I’m making it out. ”
“Oh, Dom…” Iseul wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and he crumpled against her, so tall he could only rest his chin atop the crown of her head. He felt ridiculous. He felt pathetic.
For nearly a whole minute, neither of them spoke. Domenic stared at the artwork and decorative porcelain on the wall.
“Can I confess something to you, Dom?”
“Sure.”
“I’m scared, too. I’m terrified. All these meetings I take about how bad this Winter is expected to be …
I just want this family to be safe. And Hanna—we both know how proud that girl is, how hard she pushes herself.
But it’s you I worry about most. What you did tonight was incredible, but without a Living Wand, you’re vulnerable. You know that, don’t you?”
Shame curdled in Domenic’s gut. Iseul had enough burdens without him adding to them.
“You and Hanna win, all right? I’ll do it. I’ll bond with a Living Wand as soon as possible.”
She lurched back from him and frowned. “This has never been about winning. And just because you need a wand doesn’t mean we should be hasty about a decision that will define your entire life.”
She said “entire life” like it was so substantial. Like Domenic ought to care about a future he could barely fathom beyond tomorrow.
“Sometime soon, I’d like us to talk about wands, just you and me,” Iseul continued. “And—”
“We can talk now, if you like.”
“You’ve suffered an ordeal tonight—”
“One of my advisors suggested Hestiel to me.” He furiously wiped his face on his sleeve. “Its vigil is in a few weeks.”
“That gloomy enchantment wand? No, your advisor doesn’t know you.”
“There’s Octorion.”
“Octorion isn’t even in the Vault yet. What about Ravfiri? Its vigil is next month, and Nellow’s is the week after. Though if Ravfiri isn’t a match, I hesitate to suggest you wait until Guinvallah—”
“Ravfiri is too powerful,” Domenic couldn’t help but blurt. “And so is Guinvallah.”
Iseul’s gaze could be surprisingly sharp for someone who so often fussed over the trivial details of his well-being. But it wasn’t her tender instincts that had earned the daughter of immigrants and the once-wife of a current director a fellow seat on the Order’s Council; it was her cunning.
“Listen to me, Dom. You are an exceptionally talented magician. Even before what you did tonight, I’ve always known that, no matter your performance in school.
And Hanna and I, we love you, and we know what you’ve lived through.
But it kills us to see you torturing yourself.
So please, help me understand. Why do you still deny your potential? ”
“I’m just afraid, all right?” he snapped. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But even if I did want a powerful wand—”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
“I … Of course I do.” The confession hurt, like prying a thorn out of his heart. “I’ve always known I was special, even when I was a kid. And I used to be really proud of it. I used to think that, one day, I was going to be someone extraordinary.”
Truthfully, Domenic hadn’t just thought it; he’d known it, even before he’d developed magic. He’d known it with a deep-down certainty that had never truly disappeared after what had happened, only festered.
“You still could be extraordinary,” Iseul murmured.
“No, I can’t,” he hissed, his voice scraped raw. “Because whenever I look at a powerful wand, all I see is … is…”
“Syarthis.”
Domenic suppressed a shudder. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He owed Hanna so much; even a nod would’ve felt like a betrayal.
Instead, he shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew the withered dandelions he’d picked that morning from the Gallamere Gardens, their spores fallen and smooshed—countless wishes wasted. He fiddled with their stems anyway, not looking at Iseul.
“What if I’m not ready for a Living Wand?” he whispered.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more time. But the truth is, you might never feel ready. And Winter’s cataclysm will come whether we’re ready for it or not.”
She was right. And Domenic had always known his fixation on Octorion was illogical—of course he had. But he hadn’t been prepared for how abruptly his future would shift, how suddenly such weighty decisions would be thrust upon him.
Iseul patted his back. “It’s late. You should try to rest.” She stood and walked toward the foyer. Obediently, Calynia’s enchantments readied for her departure: her heels drifted off the rack, her keys soared into her pocket, and one of the umbrellas prodded her side—there was a chance of rain.
“What? You’re leaving already?”
“I only came to check on you, and unfortunately, I have to get back to the Citadel. Will you be all right if I go? Calynia and I will leave the enchantments running.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Again, Iseul scrutinized him, her hand perched on the doorknob. “I know what happened tonight is the last thing you wanted, but I’m proud of you. I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”
“I am,” Domenic said, for her sake. And as Iseul smiled sadly and left, he tried hard to summon it, pride. But like every other piece of himself he couldn’t carry that day, it was lost, and no amount of wishing would bring it back.