Chapter 42 #2
My heart lifted when Magdalena’s face brightened with excitement—the corners of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly and that careful composure cracked just enough to let warmth through. Though she’d smiled before, I could tell excitement was an emotion she rarely showed.
“That is where I come in. I can definitely help.” She focused on me. “And I don’t believe it will take long to get to grips with your powers. You’ve already begun the process. It also won’t matter that you’re learning these core principles now. At the academy time magic manifests with age.”
My interest piqued. “Really?”
“Indeed. That’s why we teach mages who want to specialize in it during their final years. To learn time magic, all mages must be at least eighteen years of age.”
“So, can any mage learn how to wield it?”
“Yes and no.” She rested her hands on the table and leaned forward, a pensive look in her eyes. “We all refer to our magic as elemental. We use the term so frequently we call everything elemental. Even time. But time is not elemental. It is primordial.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Arielle mused, looking slightly thrown. “Gods, I feel so silly. I’m supposed to be so advanced and I didn’t pick up on that.”
“Oh my dear girl, you did nothing wrong.” Magdalena’s face became animated as she spoke.
“We all refer to time as an element for ease of discussion. Especially here at the academy because we don’t often teach any other primordial magic.
Clarity only becomes an issue when you’re actually dealing with a time mage. Like we are now.”
Arielle sighed with relief. “That makes me feel better.”
I gave her a reassuring smile.
“Now back to your question.” Magdalena's gaze settled back on me. “There are those, like you, who are born with the power to wield time. And there are those, like me, who are selected. In any case, the power is only given to those who respects its rules. And that does not matter if you are good or evil. Good seeks balance through the Fray. That’s why the ability is only available to a select few.”
“How is the selection made?” Something tugged on my insides. Like I already knew the answer.
“Bloodlines. Mages with certain bloodlines, particularly ancient bloodlines tend to either be born with the ability or have another elemental ability that attracts it. We notice the latter in mages who have the base element of fire. Like myself.”
And Mother. Mother’s natural element was fire. At least that was before she gave up her powers.
It made sense. I’d seen details about bloodlines in my journal.
It was the reason I could speak to the dragons and hear their song.
Bloodlines was the reason I could do all the other things no one could explain.
So, it fits that bloodlines would explain my magic too.
And apparently the ring knew all of this.
"Your base element is air." Magdalena gestured toward me with one elegant hand.
"It's what flows through you most naturally, what answers your call without thought.
Eventually all elements will answer to you.
But time magic—that's something else entirely.
You have the ability to wield it as naturally as air. There is no limit for you."
I was just beginning to realize the extent of what she was saying. “So I can I could do… anything?”
“You could do anything, but remember time is endless. It goes on and one for eternities and when you look back there’s never one single point. There’s always something that came before it. So, that’s why we call it limitless.”
I drew in a deep breath and looked at Arielle. She had the same dazed expression as me.
“I need to understand how it works. All of it.” My gaze swept back to Magdalena who was already nodding.
“And I shall show you how. Right now, you can control the temporal flow of time. The rate—fast and slow. What you need to understand is how you are doing it. That begins with weaving. Weaving is the ability to perceive the strands of time and shift your place within them.” She pauses.
“When you think you are speeding time, you are moving forward along a strand. When you slow it, you resist its forward pull and hold the moment in place. When you look backward, you trace that strand in reverse.”
She studies me carefully. “But time is not a single strand. At certain moments, it divides. There are paths that were taken, and paths that were not. A skilled weaver can sense those divisions and choose which strand to anchor.”
“So there can be other paths?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Exactly, and every path has a thread. Past. Present. Future. And the unchosen threads that branch away when a choice is made.”
I was deeply intrigued. “I had no idea there was so much involved.”
“And so much more. Ready to learn how to weave?” Magdalena grinned.
“Absolutely.”
She lifted her hand, palm open. Instead of casting a spell, she simply rotated her wrist, as though feeling for something unseen. The air shimmered faintly.
At first I thought it was a trick of the dim light. Then I saw them.
Filaments of gold.
Fine as spider silk and faintly luminous, stretching in delicate lines through the air. They crossed and overlapped, some taut, some slack, some splitting and drifting away from one another.
“They are always here,” she said quietly. One of the strands trembled beneath her fingertip. “They connect to everything in this room. Everything that has ever been here.”
“Gods,” I muttered.
“This,” she continued, brushing the filament gently, “is a single sequence. Watch.”
She pressed lightly and the flame of a nearby candle surged higher, then guttered low, as though time around it had hiccupped.
“I did not speed the flame,” she explained. “I shifted along its strand.”
Then she moved her hand slightly to the side. Two faint threads diverged from a single point.
“And here,” she said, guiding my attention, “is where a choice divided the weave.” The threads pulsed softly like stars. “To weave, you must first see the threads, call them to you the same way you would with your air magic, then you can decide which path to take.”
“You make it sound so simple.” I bit the inside of my lip.
“It is. When you call for the threads, you’ll feel them the same way you feel air gathering before you shape it. You’ll recognize a pull in the air. A pressure. As though something is waiting for you to notice it. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Magdalena lowered her hand and the gold dimmed at once, the filaments thinning until they were nothing more than faint glimmers in the air.
“They do not vanish,” she said quietly. “You are simply no longer looking at them. Now you.”
I swallowed and drew in a slow breath.
I’d been practicing the grounding exercises recorded in my journal that helped me connect with my air magic.
With air, I felt for the current first, the subtle shift before wind answered. So I searched for that same tension now.
At first there was only stillness.
Then—
A faint resistance brushed against my awareness. It was a feather-light touch. Not like before when I’d cast the spells to slow time, or even like in Morg?ven. This was something… quieter.
And it… waited.
My breath hitched.
There. Gods that was it.
I opened my eyes and reached toward it the way I would air. Not grabbing, not commanding, inviting.
The pressure tightened. Then, a single filament of gold flickered into view before me.
Thin. Trembling. Real.
“Blessed Mother, you’re doing it,” Arielle muttered, trying to restrain her excitement.
Magdalena did not speak.
I let my attention settle along the strand and then I thought of the candle. As soon as it entered my mind the candle flame ahead of us quivered. Then it bent forward a fraction, as though the moment itself had taken one small step.
Warmth spread through my chest.
I was doing it. Making the connection. Like a shared understanding.
“Well done, my dear girl.” Magdalena nodded with pride.
“I feel… connected.”
“Because you are now aligned.”
Aligned. Yes. That’s how I felt. Like there was no distinction between where I ended and the magic began.
“Ready to do some more work?”
I smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of what time could do to me. I understood what I could do within it.
This connection could lead me to the ring.
If this was the answer, I’d keep my memories.
And I’d have him.
Wolfe.