Chapter 22 #2
The whitewashed stone of the Obscurum Atrium gleamed in the afternoon light, ivy draped over balustrades where white blooms peeked through the greenery.
Everyone settled into their seats. The walls of the Enchantment and Warding classroom were a soft cream, accented with intricate carvings of flowers and vines mirroring the ivy outside.
At the front, an expansive stage was anchored by a wide chalkboard spanning the wall.
The black door slammed open as Professor Leslie strode across the platform. “Unfortunately, Professor Hale is ill.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, revealing rows of hoops pierced along her helix—black on one side, gold on the other. The two colors of the Consortium.
“I’ll be filling in. Today, we’ll practice shielding, a pivotal skill essential for your upcoming trials.”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the room.
“Mental shielding techniques protect your mind from intrusion, control the feedback loop between you and your celestial, and help clamp down on rising emotions during battle.”
Everyone sat a little straighter. “Before the Voidshade Sovereign’s fall, intelligence suggested he and his high-ranking generals could mind walk—sifting through memories and compelling victims. It explains how they’ve amassed their numbers so quickly by convincing victims they want to be turned.”
Narrowing her eyes, Alaire pinched her lips together. No one had bothered teaching humans how to avoid becoming weapons against themselves. As always, they were expendable. The Consortium hadn’t cared to share this information. She would, though.
“Unchecked emotions can be a weapon used against you,” Leslie continued, pacing the aisles. “Mind walkers exploit fears, doubts, desires—whatever they can to manipulate your thoughts. Let’s get started.”
“This promises to be intriguing.” Alaire exchanged a glance with Archer. His lips quirked.
“Meaning?” She arched a brow. She wasn’t exactly known for keeping her emotions in check.
“I’ve never met someone who feels things so viscerally. To simply switch them off?—”
“Everyone, close your eyes and clear your thoughts.”
Alaire obeyed, taking a deep breath. Warmth spread through her, grounding her.
“Anchor yourself in your mind. What you see will be different for everyone. It’s the center of who you are. Feel yourself there.”
Walls of flame immediately rose around her—red at the edges, but purple at the core, the same hue as Solflara’s tail. They didn’t scorch; they protected.
“Whatever appeared to you, that is your shield. Enforce it, make it impenetrable. Strengthen it with your will.”
The magic came naturally here, in this space in her mind, as she fortified her mental defenses.
Silence settled over the room as everyone concentrated. She didn’t dare break focus to check on Archer.
“Now,” Professor Leslie said, “imagine someone trying to break into your space. How will you protect your most vulnerable self?”
Something slithered along the outside of Alaire’s shields, probing for weaknesses before pushing harder. The pressure built.
Alaire refused to give in, her resolve hardening.
“Impressive,” she murmured. “Let’s see how you handle something stronger—worthy of someone of your pedigree.” She said the last word with a sneer; she was a mind wielder.
The attack intensified, striking from multiple angles. Her flames roared in defense, combating the intrusion. Alaire gritted her teeth, concentrating harder. Beads of sweat broke across her forehead as the pressure mounted, but at the last moment, her control faltered.
Heat crawled up her neck at yet another failure to master her magic. She opened her eyes.
“It would seem, Alaire,” Leslie said coolly, “that titles, no matter how fancy, do not guarantee ability.”
“It would seem that persisting despite the odds is not something you know anything about,” she drawled back, offering a defiant smile.
Archer’s shoulders shook, though he tried to keep a straight face.
Professor Leslie turned back to the rest of the class. Alaire sagged into her seat. Maintaining a mental shield took more out of her than she’d expected.
“The telepathic bond between you and your celestial is a two-way drawbridge. Emotions, thoughts, and commands flow both ways. But there will be times you’ll want—or need—to raise the bridge and cut off the pathway.”
Alaire looked inward, searching for the point where her and Solflara’s connection formed.
“Try to close that bridge between you and your celestial, by whatever means feels most natural.”
Within her, a violet-and-red braid of flame was woven tight. Instinct told her this was the manifestation of their bond.
She imagined severing it with a blade, but felt no change.
“ Hello .”
The braid of flame jumped. “ Still here .”
She blinked, refocusing. Beside her, Archer had his eyes squeezed shut.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again—this time unbraiding the threads. The hollow emptiness was immediate.
“ Hello ,” she shouted down the bond.
No answer.
The silence was strange, her thoughts echoing in her own mind.
“Controlling the flow of your own emotions is by far the most difficult,” Professor Leslie said. “Think of them as a rushing river. You must feel them first—denying them only adds power to the explosion waiting inside you.”
Alaire’s fists tightened involuntarily.
“Mental fortitude is as important as magic, aerial techniques, or combat skills. It may be the most important tool in your arsenal. You never know who—or what—might try to reach into your mind to discover your secrets. Always be vigilant, always be ready.”
Her gaze lingered on Alaire as she spoke.
A shiver trailed down Alaire’s spine. Why did that sound like both a promise and a threat?