Chapter 23 Ìlú-Opọ, Third Ring, Kingdom of Oru #4
Alawani shook his head. ‘The closer you are to a sovereign, the less likely you are to get the burn.’ He paused, then said, ‘As agbára flows from parent to child, it generally weakens through time except for the royal lines. Which is why everyone of royal blood is encouraged to marry a commoner. I mean, you’ve seen my sister train, and she’s much older, yet her agbára is remarkable.
She’s married to a common man from the fourth ring, and their children are just a bit less powerful than she is, and that access to power that they got from my father will last many generations.
Since every new sovereign is from a different family line, there are more opportunities for power to spread out more evenly in the kingdom.
However, if there are any families in Oru that have not had anyone of royal blood mix with their line since the days of the First Sun, then their children will only be able to do basic things.
People limited by their heritage in that way will surely burn out their cores the first time they try to do something that requires intense powers. ’
‘Command must be of royal blood. I’ve never seen anyone else do the things she does,’ L’?r? said.
‘Exactly. She is,’ Alawani nodded. ‘But even without great powers, people can still do really cool things like manipulate heat and light. They can make flames hotter or snuff them out, some people can control how the flames move, and even the smoke. Or transfer heat from their bodies to an object. And some people, although very few, can heat up another person, burning them – in rare cases, without even touching them. But that doesn’t come easy.
That kind of agbára lies with the crown.
Even I can’t do that. The first thing my mother taught me was how to control my own body temperature in the heat of the desert, so as not to burn up in the sun. ’
‘I’ve never seen anyone sick with the burn before,’ L’?r? said.
‘It’s the worst thing you can imagine. Their skin turns black as though charred over a flame and breaks off, leaving raw flesh exposed. The agony is … it’s brutal.’
Alawani paused, seeing her overwhelmed expression. ‘We can talk about this later, let’s start with something easy. Light.’ He moved closer to her and said, ‘Close your eyes.’
L’?r? did as he asked, embracing the darkness and listening for his voice.
‘Breathe in, deep and slow,’ he whispered. She could feel his gaze on her and his breath as it fell upon her skin. She followed his every command.
‘Clear your mind. Listen only to the sound of my voice. Imagine what you want to do. Follow the feeling that nudges at you, like walking towards a light at the end of a tunnel. Walk through that light and open your eyes.’
When L’?r? opened her eyes, the room seemed brighter. The buzzing in her blood was still there, but the pain was dulled. No. It was gone. She felt tense and ready to burst, but somehow in more control than she’d ever felt before.
‘Don’t force it down. Let your body be a vessel, not a prison. Allow the energy to flow back and forth through you until you’re ready to use it,’ Alawani said.
L’?r? looked at him, and his eyes widened. ‘Your eyes are glowing,’ he said. ‘They’re blue.’
‘What?’ L’?r? asked and immediately noticed the soft glow of white light that radiated from her palms. It looked like she’d pulled the rays from the moon’s light and hidden them in her body.
Different from the warm glow of yellow light that reflected agbára oru.
Her hands felt lighter than usual. She felt cold, but not like she would do in the night’s breeze.
This cold almost felt like a warm hug, which made no sense, but nothing happening in this moment did.
‘It feels different,’ she said, smiling. ‘This doesn’t feel like fear or death. It feels – I don’t know how to describe it.’
‘It should feel like a part of you. Like the air in your lungs or the blood in your veins,’ Alawani said.
She smiled, amazed and excited, and tried not to panic as she examined her palms repeatedly.
Slowly, the black marks on her forearms faded, and she let out a deep sigh of relief.
Could someone be happy and terrified at the same time?
Elated and scared? She was everything. She felt everything.
As she mulled over what Baba-ìtàn had told her about agbára òtútù, she clung to the tiniest hope that these powers wouldn’t be the death of her.
Alawani brought out his hands, and they shone with agbára oru.
‘Let’s try it again,’ he said, moving his palms closer to hers.
They met in the middle, and this time L’?r? did not flinch.
She felt nothing. No pain, no burn. Nothing.
Not nothing exactly. A jolt of energy flowed through her, and she could feel her body come alive.
It was as though her agbára protected her from his touch.
A mist rose from where their fingers connected.
Hers cold and his hot. They let their fingers linger, and the mist grew and filled the room.
L’?r? couldn’t hold back the smile that filled her face as Alawani grinned, entranced by her light.
‘You are incredible!’ he said, eyes wide in awe.
That perfect moment faded quickly as Alawani’s light dulled. L’?r? yanked her hands away, breaking their connection.
‘Am I hurting you?’ she asked, worried.
Alawani shook his head. ‘It’s the stripping ceremony, not you. My agbára will only keep fading. I shouldn’t have used it in the bar.’
L’?r? frowned and sighed. He seemed to not only know so much about the agbára of the gods but to love it. Love having it.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Alawani said, one side of his lips curving into a half-smile. ‘I’ll be fine.’
But he wasn’t fine. Every time he used his agbára it was draining away even faster. And if his powers drained away entirely, there was a good chance he would die. L’?r? fought back the tears that stung her eyes, her joy completely disintegrating.