Chapter 48 Caspia
Forty-Eight
Caspia
A faint prickle stole my attention from the journal on my desk.
The hairs on my arms stood on end, and the thoughts I’d been recording were forgotten as I stared at the carrel’s closed door. I held my breath, the beats of my heart measuring every passing moment until the knock came.
“Come in.” My voice was thick, my throat clogged with nerves.
The knob turned, and the door opened slowly to reveal a swish of pale blue robes.
The Voster who’d brought me the gray book eased into the room, closing the door behind him.
It should have been excruciating, having him this close. My carrel was by no means spacious.
But as he took the chair opposite my desk, all I felt was a steady push of his magic, like my clothes were too heavy, the fabric coarse and itchy. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I didn’t hurt.
“Hello,” I said.
He folded his hands on his lap. “Hello, Starling.”
I’d prayed to the Divine that he’d return. That I could ask him a string of questions. Yet now that he was here, I couldn’t think of anything to say but hello.
We stared at each other, the silence in the tiny room growing and pushing at the walls.
Faxon must have told the Voster where I was working. That, or whatever message Andreas had sent through the king’s emissary had included where to find me.
“Your magic is different today,” I said. “I can’t feel it like before.”
“I am channeling it inward.” He gave a slight grimace. It was the same pained expression from the first time we met.
“You’re holding it inside so it won’t hurt me.”
“Better me than you.” He didn’t smile. I wasn’t sure if the Voster could smile. But the shape of his mouth changed, just slightly, as if he was trying. “It has taken me some time to learn. To build up an endurance so that we may talk.”
“There is a place in the library where we could talk and be separated far enough that you wouldn’t—”
“No. We will meet here and only here.”
I sat a little straighter at the warning in his tone. Was it not safe to discuss these things outside this room? “Did you receive my message?”
“Yes. Do not send another.”
Another warning. I wasn’t going to ask why, not when it seemed more important to listen than speak.
“Did you read the book?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And?”
“It’s a story.”
“History is a story.”
“So this really happened. There were six evil magicians in Calandra. Are those the Six who you now worship as gods?”
“Who do you worship, child?” he asked.
“The Divine.”
He hummed, a note so soft and smooth it could lull me to sleep. “As do I. The Eight are a myth made real by time and magic.”
I blinked. “The Voster believe in the Divine?”
“I believe in the Divine. Many of my brothers do not. Much about us has changed in the time since we inherited our…gifts.”
He focused on the glass of water on my desk. He lifted a hand and, with a flick of his wrist, spun the water into the air, twirling it into a spiral that stretched thinner and thinner, higher and higher, until it nearly reached the ceiling.
The force of his magic was instant, stinging and sharp like a hundred quills stabbing into my skin. My fingernails dug into the arms of my chair as I gritted my teeth, doing everything to hide the agony. If he could bear it, then I would, too.
But his display of magic didn’t last long. He re-coiled the spiral of water, returning it safely to the glass. Then the pain was gone and I could breathe again.
“Would you not question your beliefs if you arrived in a land where you could manipulate wind and water and blood? Would you not embrace the magic of this land and the gods who reign over its people?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “So the Voster became devout to the Eight after coming to Calandra.”
“Once, long ago, my people worshiped a god whose name we no longer speak. When he abandoned us in the war, when he left us to die in our darkest days, he was forsaken.” He pursed his lips.
“Most of my brothers now sign the Eight. But there are some, like me, who have learned the grace of the Divine. Some, like me, who questioned the histories we were told.”
The gray book he’d given me rested on the edge of my desk.
I placed my palm on its cover, fingertips stroking the worn leather.
“I have read countless books in this library, and hardly any mention the Voster. And the written history of Calandra seems to only go back three hundred summers to the first migration. It’s… suspicious.”
I understood why there was no mention of Kenn or Nelfinex or Beesa. If the Starling who first came to Calandra had caused death and destruction, if she had been the catalyst for the crux migrations, then I wouldn’t bring attention to a land across the world, either.
But the Voster were special. They had magic. If I was a historian or author, I would write countless books about that alone.
“You will find nothing here,” he said. “But that does not mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Where?”
“Far away from the eyes of humanity.”
“It’s hidden. Why?”
He reached forward and tapped his grooved, green-tinged fingernails against my water glass. “Did you know that our magic allows us to seal blood oaths?”
“Yes.”
The Voster held my gaze but didn’t speak.
Or maybe he couldn’t speak. “You can’t tell me. You’ve taken an oath.”
He leaned back in his chair and pointed to the gray book.
A book that was his way of breaking an oath. “Who wrote this book?”
“That is of no consequence.”
My mind was whirling as I attempted to make sense of what he was trying to tell me. “If this is a history, then the magicians were real. People began worshiping them as the Six, but they were not real gods. They were granted powers by demons, correct? I can only assume that means the Infernal.”
The great enemy of the Divine.
“Good will always battle evil,” he said. “Light will always fight the dark. In those moments, you’ll learn who you truly are. Continue.”
I took a deep breath, letting the far-fetched theories I’d been pondering loose.
“The Voster in Kenn do not have magic. But you do in Calandra. And here, the Starling get sick. If we shift, we can’t shift back.
And when the swift migrate here, they become monsters.
They become crux and are nothing like the creatures from home. ”
He steepled his hands in front of his mouth as he listened.
“This land is cursed. The magicians did something to Calandra. In humans, it’s the reason they have starbursts in their eyes.
In the Voster, it gives you magic. In the Starling, we lose control over our bloodline’s gifts.
I don’t understand why certain animals become monsters here while others don’t.
Maybe they were never meant to be a part of this continent, like the swift.
But regardless, there is something wrong with Calandra. ”
He said nothing as my words hung in the air.
Maybe I’d spent too much time in this library. Maybe my imagination had run rampant. Now that I’d spoken the idea of a cursed continent out loud, I couldn’t deny just how fantastical it seemed.
“Those of us who left Kenn have been here for many, many years,” he said.
“You were one of the Voster who came here with my Starling ancestors?”
“Long ago.”
“Are you immortal? Is that part of the magic?”
“Not immortal. Long-lived. But yes, I once lived in Kenn. I had a wife and three daughters. My family was killed by Beesans in the war. It has been a long time since I’ve sat beside their graves.
We fought as best we could, for a hundred years.
But in the end, we lost. Those of us with nothing left to lose took our chance to flee.
But I would return someday, if possible.
I would rest beside my beloveds again. If I can break the ties binding me to this land. ”
“The magic traps you here? Or is it your oaths?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why are you telling me these things?”
“Because too much has been lost,” he whispered. “Too many have been forgotten. Too many were left behind. What was ours was stolen. It should be reclaimed.”
He spoke in a way that seemed to condemn his brothers. For their devotion to the Eight. For their magic. For turning a blind eye to his people across the Marixmore.
“Has a Voster ever been born in Calandra?” I asked.
“No.”
“So those of you here…” I trailed off.
The Voster in Calandra had been here for hundreds of summers. They’d witnessed the crux migrations.
“Is there a way to heal Calandra and stop the migrations?”
Silence.
“The first Voster I met was named Brother Nold. Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
“He wore burgundy robes. Yours are blue. Is the distinction important?”
Another question he did not answer. Instead, he stood from the chair, bending slightly at the waist. “That is enough for today.”
“You’re leaving?” I stood, too, panicked that I’d barely scratched the surface of my questions. And he hadn’t told me if I was correct. “But—”
His magic bit into my skin, cutting off my protest. It was slipping past his control, no longer wanting to stay locked away. “Fear not, Starling. We will speak again.”
“When?”
His gaze traveled up and down my body. “Before it is your time.”
My heart stopped. “H-how did you know?”
“Hide your truths as best you can. And tell no one we have met.”
Truths that only Andreas knew. Truths I would not be able to hide forever.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He walked to the door, and I was certain it was another question he would avoid. But then he looked back over his bony shoulder. “You may call me Hain.”
“Thank you, Brother Hain.”
“No Brother. Just Hain.”
I nodded, and he slipped from the carrel. A chill snaked down my spine.
A heartbeat after the door clicked shut, Hain lost the hold he’d kept on his magic’s leash. It slammed into me like knives. I squeezed my eyes shut, a soft cry escaping my lips. But the pain didn’t last long.
Hide your truths as best you can.
I walked to the door and flipped the lock.