Chapter 24 #3
“Lights ahead,” Saryn whispered to Theory and I, keeping his lantern low.
We were probably too high up for anyone down in the canyon to see the glow of a single lantern, but we couldn’t be too careful.
The three of us brought our horses to a quiet halt and studied the scene below.
Hundreds of tiny lights were scattered about the canyon floor, with the occasional large fire pit sprinkled throughout.
No doubt this was an encampment of sorts, and we had discovered what we sought.
With so much darkness, we could not make out many of the details of their operations. How far into the rock had they breached? Were they already successful in finding and extracting any of the moonstones?
“Are we doing this in the dark?” I questioned.
“No,” Saryn answered. “We’ll make camp a safe distance from here to ensure they don’t see our fire or hear our restless horses.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, thinking it would be far easier to attack when they were unaware and mostly asleep.
Secretly and selfishly, the idea of ending so many lives made me feel less guilty if they just went to sleep and never woke up again.
There was something guiltless—maybe even merciful—about ending their lives in such a way.
I didn’t want to see their faces. I didn’t want to count the number of my enemies.
I would have rather brought down a rocky landslide over their heads in this moment than be forced to brandish my destruction in vivid daylight.
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t argue with me. I need to evaluate the situation when I can see more…” he paused briefly, then continued, “which allows me to report more accurate findings to Idris.”
Theory turned to me and reiterated patiently, “We must know if they’ve already acquired what they seek.”
I nodded in understanding and began to lead my horse away from the ledge, not wanting to think any longer about my victims gathered around their campfires, blissfully unaware it would most likely be their last.
We made camp and, to my surprise, it was far colder high up on the plateau of Ledor Canyon than even the chilly nights in the Artumian desert had been.
I wrapped a blanket tightly around my body and shivered beneath it, sitting as close to the fire as possible without setting myself aflame.
Theory took a seat on the ground next to me and rested her body against her pack.
She was still in her sleeveless attire, yet I didn’t see a single goosebump along her skin.
“How are you not freezing?” I inquired with jealousy.
Theory let out a small snort of amusement. “You are so young. So new to all of this. All of you are, really.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that your magic is still so foreign to you that you haven’t found a way to make it serve you, and not just the Imperi.”
I stared at her, silent, trying to understand her cryptic remark. She looked at me with disappointment, knowing her point had evaded me.
“Saryn told me about your little showcase in the desert. Don’t you think if you can wield a sandstorm that you could simply levitate sand off your skin or shield yourself from it?
” She pointed at the fire in front of us.
“That fire is radiating far more heat for me than it is you.” She smiled knowingly.
Saryn, who had been eavesdropping on our conversation, chimed in. “You see magic as something external, a specialized tool to employ on complex obstacles. But your view limits the possibilities.”
Saryn turned his gaze from the fire to face me. “Your magic is within you, Cress, as mine is within me. Its endless applications to everyday life could alter your reality to such a degree that ordinary life becomes unrecognizable.”
Theory interjected, placing her hand briefly on my forearm as to impress upon me her meaning, “So we can feel something.”
“Not being able to wield every element or every ability within the spectrum of magic is the only thing that keeps us humble and grounded,” he added. “Idris once told me it’s the only thing that stops us from thinking we, ourselves, are Gods.”
That night, I lay in my tent wrestling with everything they had imparted to me. Had the others in my class already learned this lesson? I felt silly and na?ve, thinking of every possibility I’d ignored or not even considered.
A canteen with little remaining…
Water now filled to the brim.
Cold, frigid air rattling my bones…
A shield from the harsh winter winds.
A tiny flame, too small to emit enough heat…
A fire powerful enough to warm an entire room.
A bleeding cut, deep and painful…
A wound healed with no trace of a scar.
A task of traveling with 3 horses…
An assistant pliant to every command.
An enemy rushing toward you with blade in hand…
The feeling of suffocation, sending them to their knees.
An ancient stone canyon, strong and still…
Crumbling and tumbling like a tower of blocks touched by the hands of an errant child.
Magic itself was neither incidental nor grand. It was made that way by the intensity of how we conjured it. How we viewed the world and our tasks; how creatively and quickly we could think to solve them.
Saryn and Theory had spent so long letting their magic mask how they lived. Had they forgotten the irritating sensation of sand on their skin? Or the feeling of a dry mouth parched for water? Had they forgotten what it was like to live like mere Fae?
Lying there, I ran my hands across the rough dirt clinging to my skin, experiencing their textures and sensations on my fingertips, committing to memory what life felt like without the ability to alter it at a whim.
But not all things would bend to our will—if they could, he would be here with me, holding me close to his chest the night before I took on something unthinkable.