CHAPTER 12 #2
“In times of stress, your body is capable of great feats,” Septimus said.
“I’m going to teach you how to draw on the power, the grain of magic gifted through the link, while your mind is in a quiet state.
Often, we find that being emotional can lead to…
volatile results. So, I’m going to ask you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. ”
I did as he asked, my eyes shutting out the magnificent view in front of me. I breathed in, then out. But my mind was restless and my thoughts wandered, breaking off into smaller segments.
“Pull it back,” Septimus guided. “You’re not focusing. Try to find something to ground yourself in. Like the sounds of the birds. Or the feel of your lungs expanding and contracting.”
I tried again, forcing my mind to quiet.
To become as still as the snow on the peaks.
It was difficult though, and each time I felt my mind inching toward calm, my thoughts intruded.
There was simply too much to worry about.
The second challenge was in a few days, I didn’t have time to be practicing my breathing.
“Stop tapping your foot.” Septimus sighed. “You’re not grounding yourself properly. You need a still mind for this to work.”
I loosened a breath, rolling my shoulders to expel the tension sitting in my muscles.
Calming thoughts. What were calming thoughts?
There was… one, I supposed. The memory flickered inside my head like a forgotten song.
It was thirteen birthdays ago, when Umma had taught me how to bake a cake.
She had handed me a leveler, the ingredients and a recipe card, and told me to follow the instructions.
She had left the kitchen then, promising to return in exactly half an hour to see how I was managing.
It was the calmest I had ever felt, slowly measuring out the flour and the sugar, carefully whipping the batter and spooning it into the baking tray.
Everything had a precise order, an exact measurement and place to go.
And when it was done baking, Umma had proclaimed that it was the tastiest cake she had ever eaten.
A gentle wind brushed the strands of hair which had come undone near the base of my neck, and I relished in its cool kiss on my cheek. My breaths came deep and even. And somewhere, flickering inside my chest, something stirred.
“Follow the thread.” Septimus’ voice was soft and distant.
I tugged on the link and with each pull, a spool unraveled.
Hello, vicious, a voice cooed at the back of my mind, like silk. I startled, not expecting it. It was different to Kilian’s voice, far darker, but not foreign. I was sure I had heard it before. Have you come to greet me?
My hand reached toward it, my fingers curling around nothingness.
“Let it come to you,” Septimus urged.
The magic whirled and undulated, just beyond my reach. How do you wish to wield me, wicked one?
I recoiled, pulling my hand back. It rumbled inside me.
Have I offended you? it called, its voice soft as a slithering snake. Being wicked is not so bad. Indeed, it is far better than being weak.
My eyes snapped open. Septimus stood in front of me, his gaze on my upturned palm. Floating a few inches above my fingertips swirled a ball of darkness, no larger than a pomegranate seed.
It was fascinating, and I couldn’t help staring at it in disbelief. The tiny orb felt warm above my hand, like an extension of my body. Its edges blurred, warping in different directions, whispering to me.
Use me.
Set me loose.
Let me destroy.
Maybe I was losing my mind, imagining a voice of pure midnight and bloodshed. I shook my hand out, the tether to the power breaking instantly. The shadow vanished.
“You were doing great. What happened?” If I didn’t know better, I would say the concern on Septimus’ face was genuine.
I shifted uneasily, feeling discomforted. Scared. Maybe my mortal mind was breaking under the weight of pressure and grief. If I told him I was hearing voices… granted, I didn’t know everything, but I knew that wasn’t normal. “I don’t think the magic wants to help me. It feels… volatile.”
Destructive and all-consuming, it felt like the type of world-ending, corrosive power I wanted nothing to do with. The kind that had no use in helping me survive the Trials.
“It does want to help. You just need to learn how to harness it. How to command it. It will obey you if you instruct and shape it to your will. You need practice.”
I gave him a dubious look. “I appreciate you taking the time to bring me up here and teach me how to summon this power, but I really don’t see how that – or lightning – is going to help me in a challenge of wit,” I said.
“Don’t think so short-term. You might find use for it another time, in another challenge. The power flowing through your veins is not merely darkness or lightning. You have a kernel of Kilian’s power.”
I raised a brow. “Is that not darkness and lightning?”
Septimus scoffed. “He’ll be so offended if he hears that.
Kilian’s power is wrath and destruction.
His power is rage and fury itself. It is death incarnate.
It is not some flimsy lightning shower or shadow control.
Those are merely manifestations of the power.
Kilian could start wildfires and torrential floods.
He could annihilate entire isles if he had his full power. ”
My gaze sharpened on him. “What do you mean?”
Septimus winced. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
The power that I had felt radiating from Kilian was so overwhelming, so electrifying and dizzying that I did not understand how it could not be his full power. “That’s my second question. Explain yourself.”
Septimus heaved a great sigh. He walked to the edge of the slope and lowered himself so that his legs dangled off its edge.
He jerked his head for me to join him. I begrudgingly complied.
When I was seated beside him, legs precariously swinging as I resisted the urge to claw back to safety, Septimus said, “There isn’t a simple answer to your question. ”
“And yet you promised to answer.”
He sighed again, a burdensome breath that seemed to take some of the light from his eyes with it. “Kilian, Syrina and I have been friends since inception.”
This hadn’t been the start I was expecting, but I waited, letting him gather his thoughts before he continued.
“Centuries ago, Kilian did something that pissed off some really high-powered beings. To punish him, there was a curse placed on him. On the three of us, really, when Syrina and I aided him. The curse… stripped us of our powers. Left only the barest traces behind. We searched across the entirety of Tarlor for a solution – for someone able to reverse the curse, but no one possessed the ability. We approached every single elven on Lortan and Greyhaven.” A faraway look had glazed over those golden eyes.
My thoughts whirled as he spoke, frantically trying to fit the puzzle pieces into place. “If no one can help you undo the curse, then you’ll be stuck forever, unable to access your full powers?”
Septimus nodded slowly. “Unless the person with the ability to undo it has not become elven yet.”
Oh.
A ragged breath escaped my parted lips. The Mortal Trials… they weren’t about turning mortals into elven. I had always suspected there was more to it than that. The entire purpose of the Trials was to find someone with the ability to undo a curse.
Holy fuck.