Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
Tia tilts her head, her gaze lowering to my cup. Instinctively, I take another drink.
“The fae and sirens claim that sorcerers and sorceresses were not born with magic, that it was stolen from the gods.” Tia taps her fingers upon the arms of her chair.
“But those claims were false, borne of jealousy, because a single sorceress’s magic can be expanded and affect more than a single fae or a single siren.
It’s why they can develop seer skills, if learned enough. ”
“But that seems… dangerous.” I’m a bit surprised that I let that slip out. If this were a stranger, I wouldn’t be so restrained, but I was trying to be respectful because Tia is Nadya’s family.
“Yes, it can be,” Tia answers. “I won’t deny that there are sorcerers and sorceresses who abuse the gift.”
Nadya blinks at her great-aunt over the rim of her cup as she sips more tea and then suddenly she blurts out, “Are you a witch, Aunt Tia?” Nadya’s eyes widen as soon as she says it, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—”
The corner of Tia’s mouth turns upward. “It’s quite all right, my child. Your curiosity is obviously unsettling you.” She studies us a minute before continuing. “But your instincts are right. I have it in my blood.”
“I’m sorry I said ‘witch,’” Nadya says.
“By all means, I welcome the name.” Tia lifts a brow and shakes her head.
“You see, those same people who were afraid of our powers used the word to try to scare people into hating us. At first, they called us ‘heretics,’ but then the name ‘witch’ caught on. I suppose they deemed it crueler. They thought the word was slanderous, that it would make us outcasts. And in a way, they were right. But we, who have this ability to call magic to us, embrace the word because we know it simply means our craft is strong.”
Nadya has awe in her eyes. “If it’s in your blood… does that mean… that it’s in mine?”
I’m pretty sure the expression on Nadya’s face is hope, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Tia rubs her chin. “There’s a high chance, though bloodlines can be diluted over time. There is a way or two to check, though. Here, take my hand.”
Nadya swallows hard before setting her cup down. Her gaze darts to me, and then she scoots forward in her chair, reaching out for her aunt’s hand.
At first, nothing happens. But after a moment, the room warms, and the candles flicker. In the next moment, the flames blaze brighter. Nadya’s eyes widen, reflecting the glow.
Tia smiles. “There. You feel that?”
Nadya nods, breathless. “What is that?”
“Our magic feeding each other. Happens when two connected bloodlines meet.” Tia squeezes Nadya’s hands. “Yours is quiet, but it’s there.”
Nadya looks as if she’s going to jump out of her skin. “‘Quiet’? How do I… Can you teach me to make it louder?”
Tia grunts. “My dear, I don’t think I have it in me anymore to be your mentor. Not at my age. But I can help you out with the basics.” She stands, and Nadya stares as she moves to an old, cluttered bookshelf. “Where in the gods’ rotting teeth did I put it…”
Nadya quickly looks to me, clasping her hands in her lap. I can tell she’s nervous, not just because of the way one of her feet keeps tapping, but because I can feel it pulsing out of her.
Tia whistles, then slides a tome off the shelf. For a quick moment, I’m reminded of the book that jumped off the shelf near Nadya in Podrosa. Tia comes back to stand in front of her great-niece.
Nadya reaches for the book slowly, reverently. The leather is cracked and worn, the edges of the pages curled with age. Strange symbols curl over the cover like vines.
“Is this the grimoire?” Nadya’s voice comes out in a whisper.
Tia chuckles. “No, child. That was lost in the Age of Blood—torn from our hands and burned by cowards who feared what they couldn’t control.
This here’s a pale cousin. Notes written down by some of the first witches.
It’s got a few basic spells. Simple things like starting a flame, pushing life into a dying plant, some illusion spells.
Special brews and potions to fit certain situations.
There are some advanced spells near the end, like a temporary cloaking spell.
Nothing grand, but it’ll teach you focus. Precision.”
Nadya gapes, her eyes focused on the book. “That all sounds incredible.”
Her excitement scares me for some reason, and my thoughts bubble straight to the surface, unfiltered.
“I don’t know if Nadya could handle the consequences that come with using magic,” I blurt out.
“She’s clever, curious, compassionate. But she hasn’t seen the things I’ve seen or had to make the choices I’ve made.
Not only am I fae, but I’m a soldier. Trained to fight.
When situations get out of hand, I know what to do. ”
I bite my tongue too late, the words already out. Nadya furrows her brows at me. I’ve clearly struck a nerve.
Tia snorts softly. “Good,” she mutters. “Soldiers break things. Witches mend them.”
“I meant she’s not ready,” I say again, blinking at my unfiltered outbursts. “Magic can be dangerous. Unstable.” I grip my mug, eyeing the tea suspiciously. Special brews and potions to fit certain situations. “What… What was in this?”
Tia raises a brow. “Just a little something to make sure my guests aren’t trying to manipulate me.”
Nadya and I stare at her.
Tia sighs but doesn’t look sorry. “It’s a brew that lowers your defenses, eases the truth out of you.”
“Gods,” I mutter, setting the mug down. “That feels like a violation.”
“Lying would be a violation,” Tia retorts. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I whip my head toward Nadya. “I didn’t mean anything bad by what I said, and you know I’m telling the truth because—” I lift my mug to drive my point.
It takes a moment before Nadya gives me a nod, and I feel as if I’ve caused a small rift between us.
“I tell you what,” Tia begins, gesturing toward the book. “Practice a little. Start small. And if you think it’s too overwhelming or gives you a bad feeling, then simply stop.”
Nadya gapes at her. “Are you letting me borrow this?”
Tia leans back in her chair, looking proud. “It’s yours.”
Nadya’s eyes shine. “What?”
Tia shrugs. “I’ve had it so long, the damn thing talks back to me. Might as well go to someone who can learn something from it. Plus, you’re family.”
I look between them, that old ache building in my chest. I want to be happy for Nadya. I am. But there’s a part of me that still curls inward at the possibility it could go terribly wrong.
“You sure about this?” I ask softly.
Nadya looks at me. “I don’t know. But I want to try.”
Tia snorts again, heading for the kettle to pour herself a second cup. “Good. About damn time someone in this family stopped making excuses.”
I set my cup down. “In a book Nadya was reading, there were sorceresses traveling the land before the dragons died out from the poisoned plants. Do you know anything about that?”
One of Tia’s eyes narrow. “Are you asking if witches started the poison?”
“Yes,” I say, unable to not speak the truth.
Tia shakes her head. “This happened a century before my time. There are many mixed opinions from the modern witch community, people taking sides, especially descendants of those witches. But the dispute continues. Many say they did, but others say they were lifting magic that had already been spelled.”
“So there’s no way to know?” I ask.
“Not unless someone can magically revive the torched grimoire from the ashes.”
Nadya’s face twists in confusion, and I’m sure I mirror her expression.
“What do you mean?” I don’t understand what the grimoire has to do with it.
“The grimoire contains a powerful spell that can reveal truths.” Tia waves a dismissive hand.
“It’s the kind of magic that trickled down into reading palms and cards, even staring into crystals, trying to find answers.
But the grimoire had the original spell, one that could not be replicated in any other book or retained in anyone’s memory because the magic wouldn’t allow it. ”
“Like the ultimate divination spell,” Nadya says.
“Exactly.” Tia gives a half-shrug. “Probably for the best. Can you imagine being able to see into the past and future and know the fate of the world?”
That could lead to dire circumstances. In the hands of someone with ill intent, it could mean utter destruction.
Tia looks between us both, eyes darker now. Heavier.
“Now it’s my turn to be truthful,” she says, slowly sinking into her chair. “You’re right, dear.” She looks to me. “In the wrong hands, this magic can be dangerous.” She turns her gaze back to Nadya. “So use it wisely, child.”