58. Raea
Raea
“More! You’re holding back,” Moira snaps.
She is a constant shadow at my side, coaxing a power out of me that feels less like a gift and more like a caged predator. Sweat beads on my forehead, my muscles locking against the strain. My magic is a dam, and I’m terrified that if it cracks, the flood will swallow everyone I love.
I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes, “I can’t!”
I’ve already burned through everything they’ve thrown at me. Walls of ice, illusions, I even managed to blow a whole tree apart.
Finn raises a hand in my peripheral as he moves to my side. “Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way. We need to focus on aiming and control.”
The orb in my hand feels like it's still humming with residual power. I glare at it like it's the problem, not me. Then again, I feel lost, like I don’t even know what I’m doing.
“Have you tried shaping your magic?” he asks.
“Shaping?” I deadpan. I can’t control my magic, and they want me to shape something. I almost burst out laughing.
Finn studies me for a moment. “I want you to find your magic within yourself first.”
I close my eyes, finding that place where my magic originates in my chest. “Okay. Got it.”
“Good, now I want you to imagine drawing it into a single dagger. Picture the dagger in your hand and let your magic pour into it.”
Gods, why did I ever think this would be easy? Growing up, I watched plenty of people learn to wield their magic. They had all made it seem so easy. I can remember asking my father how he warded things.
He had studied me for a moment before taking my hand in his, kneeling before me. We stood in front of a village that had broken out with a mysterious illness. The wards had kept them secluded until everyone had been declared healed. I had gone with him to watch him remove them, not put them up.
He had placed my small hand over his forehead, pressing it there like he had a fever.
He told me that magic originates in different areas of the body.
For him, his magic was in his head. He had to think it, and it would be so.
He could bend the wards to his will, moving and shaping them with a single thought.
When I had asked my mother about where her magic originated, she had told me her stomach. She said she would connect to the deep part of herself, feeling her magic bloom like a flower. She pictured strands of magic pouring into her hands and into the soil.
After that, I stopped asking. Both of them made it seem like common sense. And maybe the Lumos Bond magic is. After all, the Lumos magic was really meant to power the Veil.
My heart aches thinking about my parents, my home. I miss Kyrr. For all the wonders here on Auralis, I miss the familiarity of home—even if it comes without magic. Thinking about the fact that it may be destroyed when I return makes me sick to my stomach.
Pushing away those thoughts, I refocus on my magic. I picture one of the throwing knives I’d become accustomed to at school. Lightweight, easy to hold in my small hands. I picture the hilt, solid and sturdy. The blade itself, sharp and lethal.
I feel my hand open like I’ll somehow actually be able to do this, but I’ll never know if I don’t try, and I need to try, even if it seems silly or impossible, because there’s a war coming and I can’t fail my people.
We’ve been at it for a while, but I feel like I’m getting closer. My arm burns, a searing heat trickling down to my palm as if I am pouring molten lead into a mold of my making. When I open my eyes, the air hums. I can’t fight the grin that overtakes my face.
The dagger isn't metal, but it is ethereal starlight trapped in indigo glass, the hilt ending in a moonstone crescent that glows with a soft, lunar pulse. It feels surprisingly heavy, a physical piece of my soul given a sharp edge.
I glance up to find Finn with a satisfied smile on his face and Moira with her jaw hanging open. I look down at my palm again, gripping the hilt and testing its weight. It feels like a normal dagger except for the resonant hum of magic.
I toss it around and then aim, throwing it toward the tree trunk. I feel weightless when it embeds itself into the trunk before disappearing, leaving a hole in its place.
“Let’s see what else you can make,” Finn says with a contagious grin.
Turns out nothing.
Any weapon larger than the dagger, I can’t get right. Still, I can’t be upset when I made a dagger of starlight.
A gateway opens near the edge of the field, halting our training for the day.
At the first glance of Ciara, I take off running, tears already burning in my eyes. It’s strange. I’ve barely seen her lately, but now, everything is different, and gods, I miss her so much.
I crash into her, my hands squeezing her back and feeling…
I pull away to find her smiling at me.
I blink once. Twice, clearing my vision. My breath hitches in my throat.
Ciara is transformed. She is taller, her rich brown skin radiating a warmth that feels like a summer afternoon.
But it’s the wings that stop my heart—massive, arched spans of brown and white feathers that shimmer with every movement.
My best friend is no longer a girl from the forests of Kyrr. She is a creature of the sky.
She grins. “I have wings!”
“You have wings,” I repeat breathlessly, running my hands over the layers of brown and white feathers. This all feels so unreal. I mean, I’ve seen other Elven and Fae with wings, but my best friend…
Words get caught in my throat.
Ciara giggles, wrapping an arm around me, spinning me until I’m facing the rest of our crew.
My eyes move, one by one, taking them all in.
They land on Kamden first. He’s huge. He’s always been big, but now he smirks, waving as he explains he’s Fae.
Not that I couldn’t tell, but I must look confused.
Really, it’s my mind struggling to keep up.
Tate has his arms crossed, the new bulk really doing something for him. “I know,” he teases. “I’m hot. I bet you’re really wishing you would’ve chosen me, huh?” His newfound Fae lineage looks good on him.
I can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of me as I grin, my eyes watering.
Trysten is already talking to Ryker. I expected him to be Fae too so it’s not surprising.
I didn’t account for his new status to be so…
hot. I mean, I’ve always noticed Trysten, but damn.
Too bad he doesn’t hold a candle to my mate.
I’m sure some Fae female will enjoy the sight of his ass, those big thighs, and those arms that look like he could lift a mountain. The tapered ears really suit him.
I find Aolyn beyond talking with Carys. I take a step toward her, but the air around her feels brittle, as if it might shatter at a touch. She looks luminous, her pale skin glowing, but her eyes are dark pits of grief.
“Half-witch,” Ciara whispers, and the word hits me like a physical blow.
In a world of Fae and Elven, a witch is a wild card—a remnant of a darker, more ancient power that most fear to even name.
The witches were a way to even the playing field for humans, but they were never meant to carry those gifts.
Instead, it became dark and dangerous, and though they are rare, there are some powerful witches throughout the galaxy.
Or at least that’s what I’ve learned since coming here.
My head moves so fast, I make myself dizzy. Behind me, my skin prickles, and I realize one person is missing. When I look at Ciara, she’s already grinning over my shoulder.
I turn, finding Kellan’s chest as my forehead bounces off it.
His strong arms grip my shoulders, keeping me upright.
My heart is thundering so loud I can barely hear the conversations breaking out around me.
It was one thing to go through this with Ryker.
He’s my other half, and whatever we do, we do together. My best friend, however…
I don't look up. I can't. The man I knew is gone, replaced by a male whose presence is an overwhelming force of cinnamon, salt, and raw, immortal power. I expect to find a stranger, but when his fingers tilt my chin up, I find the same hazel eyes that have anchored me since we were children. He is different—stronger, harder, more lethal—but the “RaeRae” he whispers is the same tether to my humanity I’ve always leaned on.
The memories I have of him feel disjointed. I can envision Kellan as a little boy all the way to how he looked a few days ago. I watched him grow into a man. A man that I loved. A man I still love, only differently now.
Except now he isn’t a man. He’s this strong, powerful Elven male.
My knees give out as I wrap my hands around him, stealing a moment.
His chuckle reverberates through me as he holds me together. “I didn’t die.”
“I know,” I say, my voice muffled, “but this is hard.”
His soothing hand runs down my back. “Now you know how I feel.”
I pull back, punching his arm and groaning when pain shoots up my wrist.
Kellan laughs, rubbing the spot as if I were actually capable of hurting him. Maybe before, but now I might as well be punching a damn wall.
I feel Ryker’s jealousy, sharp but restrained. I want to roll my eyes, but I’m not going to torture him. Instead, I take a step back, grabbing Kellan’s hand in my right, Ciara’s in my left, squeezing. They both tower over me more than ever.
“I love you guys,” I say softly.
“What about me?” Tate asks.
I giggle, letting them go before launching at Tate, forcing him to catch me. His grip tightens around me as he spins, hollering about spending thousands of years being a pain in my ass.
There’s something about looking at all of them now and understanding that our friendships go beyond what they ever were.
Not only did they follow us here, choosing to leave all that they knew, their families, their sense of duty.
They all came here to help Ryker and I fight a war way bigger than any of us truly comprehend, and now, they’ve given their lives to the cause.
However long we live—thousands of years or only a hundred—I’ll be grateful for every moment and never be able to truly express my gratitude.
Ryker’s growl when Tate trips, nearly dropping me, has us both laughing.
“I’m unbreakable, you know,” I tease.
He scoffs in my head.
“Well, I’m hungry,” Kamden says, brushing a hand over the tight braid atop his head. “I was promised food.”
Just like before, back at school, Tate bends down, allowing me to leap onto his back as we all head for the gateway. Aolyn stays back, still in deep conversation with Carys, but I notice the rest of the field has been cleared for the day.
“She’ll be okay,” Kellan says, walking by our side. “She’s just trying to learn.”
I want to ask more, but it’s a conversation I need to have with her when she’s ready. So I nod instead, wrapping my arms around Tate just a bit tighter.