Eighteen #2
I willed the two magics to twine together, to form a bond so strong that it couldn’t be split.
They spun faster and faster in my mind, picking up speed with every breath, until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
Until they’d finally, beautifully, blended into one gilded ribbon of pure magic that pulsed with the ethereal glow of the moon.
I gripped it tight.
My eyes flew open in time to see that my fingertips were ensconced in their signature glow, but there was an unmistakable shimmer to the air around my hands.
Thousands of golden flecks hung like stars in the misty expanse.
The moment I tried to focus on that, though, the power fled, and I slumped forward as exhaustion slammed into my bones.
I groaned as an immediate ache threaded through my muscles.
“You keep trying to run before you can walk.” He sat in front of me with his knees against mine.
I nudged him. “That’s your fault. You’re the one who drilled running into my brain. It’s muscle memory at this point.”
He chuckled. “Still, I’m glad the magic is getting easier to access.”
Because we’d touched more in recent days than ever before. Because Lydia had been right about the effects of physicality and our bond. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. Not while Rorik was looking at me without an ounce of trepidation for once.
“That said, it’s probably best if we keep our heartbond a secret at the fete. You’re supposed to be sick and powerless, remember?” He dipped his head toward me and grinned.
“Yes, yes, I’m so very weak and pitiful. Especially in the presence of someone as strong as you.” I layered my words with sarcasm as I rolled my eyes, but there was something almost animalistic about the way his grin stretched further.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Orin’s death,” he hummed.
“Pleasant image, to be sure, but why?”
“Was that the first time you were able to use your threads like that?”
Images of that moment flooded my mind. It’d been so surreal.
The influx of Rorik’s magic had clashed with my own until they’d simply become one.
And then my life threads had unfurled from my body and split into hundreds of ribbons as glittering flecks had clouded in my moonlit aura.
I’d been able to harness that energy into my threads, and they’d answered my call without hesitation.
I’d thrust them into the earth and drained the lands of blight while, at the same time, sent the rest of my threads barreling into Orin so I could shove the siphoned blight into his veins.
“Yes. I’ve never heard of another threadmender being able to do something like that, either.”
“You drew power from my magic to bolster your own, which is an incredible feat.” Rorik turned his palm toward the sky and effortlessly summoned a swirling orb of green mist between his fingers.
“I don’t know if you’ll be able to accomplish it again, but I was thinking you could try to do that on a smaller scale.
Maybe just one thread. And then siphon life from the earth to help strengthen your own thread. ”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What is the earth but an abundance of life? It teems with it.” He let the orb of magic disperse and then gestured around him to the swaying trees. “Don’t drain it dry. Just take some so your threads don’t snap off while you’re healing.”
A dull ringing started in my ears as I weighed the possibility of his words.
My breath hit faster, and a lightness invaded my chest. If his theory was correct, if I could find a way to harness both magics like he suggested, then the cost of threadmending wouldn’t be my severed life threads.
I would simply drain the earth of a small portion of its innate life-giving power in exchange for curing whatever ailment I faced.
Even blight.
I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. “Let’s try it,” I said.
He held out his hand. “I don’t think there’s much I can do except keep my magic at the forefront. The rest is on you.”
Threading my fingers through his, I gave him a squeeze. “That’s all I need.”
Closing my eyes, I summoned both magics to the surface as before.
With Rorik beside me, touching me, his magic practically roared with amplified vigor and surged forward just begging to be harnessed.
A giddiness filled me to the brim, and my cheeks ached from the strain of my grin.
I could do this. I coaxed his magic and mine together again, stretching and twining them like a master spinner until they became one painfully beautiful creation. A golden thread dipped in moonlight.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Immediately, my gaze went to our joined hands. They were bathed in a delicate glow that was sparked with iridescent, gilded flecks of magic.
“Keep breathing,” Rorik murmured.
And I did. He’d taught me just how powerful a single breath could be. I leaned on that knowledge now more than ever, and the glow remained steady.