Chapter Fourteen #2
Even Edmund’s mouth twitched, though he hid it quickly behind a cough.
By the time they’d cleaned the worst of it away—sponging down tables, sluicing hands at the old basin in the corner, and hanging their aprons by the kiln—Isla felt tired and ready for bed.
She wrung out her cloth, glancing sideways at George as he rolled his sleeves higher—the last of them to wash his hands. Her eye caught sight of his Sigil mark on the inside of his wrist. He saw her looking and she looked away embarrassed; she was sure it wasn’t polite to stare.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
George glanced down, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Ah. That. Yes, I’m Fated.”
Isla looked around, feeling awkward. She feared she had breached social etiquette by calling attention to it. “Sorry, George, I didn’t mean to pry.”
He shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have lots of questions. I know I did.”
Juliette stepped up. “It’s okay, Isla.”
Andrew nodded in agreement. “Yes, ask away.”
She noticed Edmund shove his hands deep into his pockets; it seemed he wasn’t comfortable with the direction this conversation had taken. Her curiosity burned. She might regret asking since Juliette had indicated it had to do with love, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“What makes Fated Aetherians different? I mean, I understand the theory of Wielders and Summoners, but this ...”
George answered her unfinished sentence. “When two Aetheric souls achieve perfect resonance—a harmony of spirit, mind, and emotion—their Aetheric fields entwine. The universe remembers such bonds, for love of that magnitude cannot dissolve; it imprints upon the Aether itself.”
Andrew laughed. “That’s a perfect textbook answer.”
Wait, a textbook answer? Could Isla have simply read about this in the green book Harold had given her?
Thinking about it, Juliette had previously told her George’s answer word for word.
She nodded at George, forcing out a smile, her mind scrambling for a way to end the conversation so she could research on her own.
She was on Edmund’s wavelength—it was a terrible idea to talk about this.
George laughed. “Come on, my teacher had a very chalk-and-talk approach; repetition was the key. Don’t tell me when you were in school you weren’t forced to recite quotes from An Elementary Guide to the Aetheric Arts and Their Practical Applications.”
“Oh, I was!” burst out Juliette. “My teacher drilled it into me again and again. Her name was Mrs. Harper. She was awful.”
George smiled. “Did she ask you to repeat and memorize, ‘Why are Fated Aetherians more powerful?’”
“Absolutely! I had to answer word for word, echoing her chant to the class.”
Juliette carried on switching to a monotone voice, so unlike her usual animated self: “Fated Aetherians are pairs whose souls share a merged resonance signature within the Aetheric Field. When this resonance locks into perfect harmony, it creates a surge of Aetheric energy far greater than any individual could produce alone.” She changed back to a chipper tone.
“The universe goes, ‘Oh, I see you two,’ and stamps it into the Aether so it sticks.”
Andrew chuckled, “Better than the textbook already. This phenomenon,” Andrew continued, taking over in his best academic voice, “occurs only when both individuals reach specific emotional and energetic frequencies—states of complete alignment in spirit, mind, and intention. Their harmony stabilizes and amplifies the flow of Aether between them, resulting in what scholars call a resonance lock.”
George added, “When that resonance locks in, it creates a massive surge of power—way more than either person could ever produce alone. It’s not magic; it’s ... amplification. Stability.”
Juliette jumped in, “Once it happens, the pair can channel Aether like a single unit. Stronger. Sharper. Deeper control. Superpowers, basically.” Juliette grinned and snapped her fingers for emphasis. “That’s the exciting part they forget to write in the books.”
Andrew laughed. “See? Much more interesting than George’s chalk-dust version.” His eyes flicked to Isla’s. Despite his humor, Isla could see he was trying to gauge how she was taking all this.
She tried for nonchalance. “Oh ... okay.”
“Isla,” Juliette said, her voice animated and excited, “being Fated not only makes you a more powerful Aetherian, but it’s true love in its purest form.
When I told you it’s love that transcends time, it literally does.
It means that when we find true love, we may have been with them in past lives, this life, and future lives. ”
Isla couldn’t respond; her words sounded too far-fetched. It seemed Edmund agreed as he said, “You don’t believe love is the cause of an Aetherian rebirth, do you?”
“You don’t?” Juliette quipped.
Edmund worked his jaw but didn’t reply.
“Wait, what?” Isla asked, not even attempting to sound poised. “You believe in rebirth?”
“I absolutely do,” Juliette said, looking at Edmund stubbornly. “A Fated couple’s love transcends time, their love allowing them rebirth over and over.”
Isla looked around the group, her thoughts racing. Edmund sounded skeptical; he clearly had more thoughts he wasn’t sharing, and the other two men didn’t look shocked by this phenomenon. She knew Juliette—and now George—had the same mark as her. Did Andrew and Edmund?
“It seems like a lot of people have this mark.”
“Yes and no. Not all Aetherians are Fated,” Juliette said, her eyes flicking between Edmund and Isla.
“But true love isn’t exclusive, meant for only a tiny minority; it’s a selfless choice, and it isn’t just Aetherians who find love.
Regular folk do too, but Fated couples have the precious gift of rebirth due to the power of the Aether.
Pure love and the gift we’re offered is a beautiful thing,” she finished passionately.
“It sure is,” George said softly.
His declaration seemed to snap Juliette out of a staring contest with Edmund. “Are you in love with someone?” Juliette asked—clearly, her friend had no boundaries.
George had a soft, sad smile on his face. “I’ve loved my childhood sweetheart for a long time, but love cannot always find a way, even when one is Fated.”
Juliette’s face looked crestfallen at the idea that love wouldn’t always win out.
“So, just because you have the Sigil mark of the Fated, it doesn’t guarantee a happily ever after?” Isla asked, despite her better judgment.
“No, not always,” George said, his eyes a little haunted.
Isla felt uneasy. She avoided love—why was she panicking?
She didn’t want a relationship, did she?
But what if, despite her mark, she was still destined to be alone?
What if no one wanted her? Had her mark given her a tiny bit of hope?
What if someday she did want love and never found the one she was Fated to be with?
A sudden surge of force from Isla’s fears rushed through her—finished clay pots exploded from the shelves, shards spinning like shrapnel. A sharp cry echoed as one fragment nicked George’s arm, drawing a line of blood across his skin.
A loud crash filled the room as all the pots hit the floor, and then all was quiet.
Isla felt faint as she stared at George’s bloodied arm and then down at her glowing green hands.
It had all happened so quickly. Her eyes took in the destruction she had created around the studio; she saw Edmund had shielded Juliette.
Her eyes shifted back to George’s arm, blood dripping down onto the hard floor.
Then her world went black as she also collapsed to the floor, Andrew calling her name as she fell.