Chapter 42 Declan
Kelsa and I met for breakfast in the early hours of the morning.
As she dropped bacon into the hot iron pan, I stepped back and smiled.
I would turn twenty years old in a week, and this was the first time in my life that I felt at peace— really at peace.
There was something about a mother’s love, the way she looked at me, her smile, her gentle touch on my cheek; I couldn’t quite understand its power, but I knew it to be a magic all its own.
She turned and caught me staring.
“Care to share?” She flipped the sizzling bacon.
When I didn’t immediately answer, she turned and faced me. “What is it?”
I smiled and stared at my boots as I spoke.
“It’s still hard to believe you’re real sometimes. I mean, I always thought you were dead, that I’d never get a chance to know you, but here we are, and it feels so . . . I don’t know . . . normal. Okay, that’s not right. You’re teaching me magic to defend the world from destruction,
while I’m hounded by a talking owl. There’s nothing normal about that, but you’re my mother . . . and that feels . . . right. And we’re here, making breakfast, and that seems just so mundanely normal compared to all the rest.”
She reached up and brushed a curl from my forehead, then cupped my cheek. “I love you so much, Declan. I never thought we’d have this time together either, but I thank the Spirits every day that you were brought into my life.”
“I wish Keelan could be here, could know you, too. He needs this. We both do.”
“We all need this.” She turned away quickly as a tear escaped. “But, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn not to say the words never or impossible. Maybe one day we can all be together.”
A loud pop made us both jump.
“For now, the bacon needs me more than you do. Go get the table ready.” She swatted me playfully with her spatula.
A short while later, when the table was cleared and dishes washed, I sat sipping wine by the stone circles. Kelsa joined me with órla perched on her shoulder.
“I’ve enlisted a little help for your lessons this morning.” My mother gave órla an affectionate scratch as she walked to the middle of the stones. The owl hopped off and began splashing about the bowl on the center pillar.
“You planning to teach me how to turn órla into something big and scary?” I grinned as I stood and set my glass on the table.
“Careful, Dec. Those boots look very inviting this morning,” órla chirped before ducking her head under the water.
I chuckled and turned back to Kelsa. “It’s never boring here. I’ll give you that.”
“This morning, we will learn if you can cast illusions. If you can, we will spend the next month, perhaps longer, working on that skill.”
“Why so long? I mean, I know you said it was hard, but is it that important?”
She raised a brow. “Of course, it is. Just think about your time in the mountains before you came here. You said there were scouts searching through the forest, right? What if you could’ve made them believe there were tens—or hundreds—of Rangers in those woods?”
I nodded. “We might’ve scared them off, made them report misinformation. I see where you’re going.”
“Let’s figure out if you can even cast an illusion, then we can worry about applications.” She took my hand. “All right, close your eyes and touch your Light.”
“Got it.”
“Now, think of something very familiar to you. Hmm . . . picture órla in your mind. See every feather, every tiny detail. Do not let go of your Light while you are doing this,” she instructed.
“All right. I see her.”
“This is the hardest part. Hold both her image and your Light, then reach forward and find the Light in my mind. If it helps, imagine yourself walking toward me and then search my mind.”
My brow furrowed, and sweat trickled down my forehead. “I . . . think I see a glow. I’m reaching out to it.”
“Good. Don’t touch it. Take the image of órla and ‘push’ it onto the glow, onto my Light.”
I let out a breath and opened my eyes. “That’s so hard. It feels like juggling balls that have a mind of their own. You have to focus on so many things all at once. Did I do it?”
Kelsa opened her eyes. “I saw something, but it wasn’t clear, and it disappeared quickly. Go take a few sips of your wine, and we’ll try again. This time, órla, whisper something Declan should make me see, but don’t tell me what it is.
That should be a better way to know if you are projecting the image into my mind, or if I am creating the image on my own.”
I was more than happy to comply, stumbling to the table and downing another glass of wine in a few gulps.
“Show her me again,” órla whispered in my mind.
I grinned at my clever little friend. “Ready when you are.”
The second time, Kelsa could make out the silhouette of an owl, but the image shimmered and failed before she could identify it as órla.
I slumped back against one of the stones, my shirt drenched in sweat and my chest heaving with each breath. “Spirits, I thought I had it that time.”
“Illusion is extremely difficult. I am surprised you were able to conjure much of anything. What we did prove is that you have the Illusion Gift. We just have to help you master it.”
I thought I saw a hint of pride in Kelsa’s smile.
“Try again. This time I’m going to raise my mental wards so you know how a shield looks and feels.”
“All right, but I need a break. It’s crazy how drained I feel from just a few minutes.” I hobbled back to the table and filled yet another glass.
“Tomorrow we will test for Healing aptitude, but the rest of our time will be spent building up your magical endurance. Get used to that tired feeling.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the glint in her eye. “You might be enjoying this a little too much, dear mother.”
órla shook the water off her wings and glided to the table. “Not as much as I’m enjoying it. You’re kinda cute when you’re tired.”
“Thanks for the support, little one.”
“Of course. Always happy to help.”
After a few minutes of rest, we made our way back into the center circle. My mother and I held hands and closed our eyes. This time, when I tried to reach out to her Light, my mental presence bogged down before reaching it.
“Ack! That feels like I’m trying to shove my way through syrup.”
“That’s my shield.” Kelsa squeezed my hands. “Try pushing through.”
I drew in a breath and added a magical shove, only to be swallowed by the gooey barrier.
Frustrated, I pulled my presence back and tried a different tactic.
I waited a few seconds, then magically sprinted as fast as I could, trying to catch Kelsa off guard.
The shield gripped me even tighter than before.
“Don’t get frustrated. Keep trying.” Kelsa gave my hands another squeeze.
So, going fast just got me tangled up faster. Hmm . . .
For my next attempt, I moved as slowly as possible, trudging my way into the spongy wall. I barely broke the surface of the shield this time, as my forward momentum halted the moment I made contact.
I tried spinning into the wall. This time, the sticky web wrapped itself around me with every turn until I was completely enveloped and immobilized.
Kelsa released me, and I stumbled backward.
“I take it you need help?” órla chirped in my head. “Be a hummingbird, not a horse.”
“That’s supposed to be helpful?”
“I can’t just give you the answer, silly. At some point, you have to use your brain and figure things out. Besides, my clue is obvious.”
I glanced at the bowl where órla bathed, wondering at her definition of “obvious.”
Hummingbirds versus horses? What’s the difference?
Hummingbirds are tiny. Horses are big. Hummingbirds fly. Their wings go fast, but flapping my arms doesn’t sound like a good idea. They suck nectar. They . . . buzz? That didn’t sound right either, but maybe sound was the answer. What do hummingbirds even sound like?
Be the hummingbird.
Be . . . the hummingbird.
Hummingbird.
Spirits, this is stupid!
I was about to break contact and head for the wine again when an idea struck.
Hummingbirds are tiny and fast and have a sharp beak! At least, I think they do.
I imagined my magical presence as a hair-thin arrow, honing its tip into a sharp point, then I stepped back as far from Kelsa’s barrier as I could without losing contact and sprinted forward.
The arrow flew true and struck the barrier, piercing it with its tip.
Its momentum slowed but didn’t stop as the arrow poked through the other side and tumbled into Kelsa’s Light.
“Got you!” I hooted, squeezing Kelsa’s hands before raising my own in victory. In the excitement, my concentration failed, and everything winked out.
Kelsa laughed at my happy dance, then shook her head. “You were supposed to use Illusion once you got inside my shield. Remember?”
“Oh, come on! I just made it through the Mighty, Mushy Wall of Doom. Give me a little credit.” I beamed as I bounded to the table to pour more wine.
“You sure he’s not hopeless? I think he’s hopeless,” órla said.
“órla, be nice.” Kelsa snorted and joined me at the table. “You did well. Next time, though, I want to see something.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grinned boyishly between gulps.
“Declan Rea, the Badass Hummingbird. The Hummingbird Heartthrob. The Hummingbird Hero. Oh, yeah. That’s it. Hummingbird Hero! Although, heartthrob isn’t bad either, if ya know what I mean.” I flicked my hair dramatically. “Ayden sure agrees with that one.”
Kelsa tilted her head in confusion as órla landed on her shoulder. “Sorry. I think I started something. You don’t want to know!”
Weeks stretched into months, then years.
Crafting illusions became the bane of my existence.
We worked on Illusion so long I thought my mind might grow permanently numb.
My mother then decided each day would rotate between other skills as she pushed me to grow in strength and endurance.
Aside from giving my mind a break from the grueling demands of Illusion, she wanted to stretch my creativity by applying my other Gifts to different situations.
Then, one morning, she walked onto the ledge carrying a massive leather-bound tome whose flowing script had long since faded. I yelped when she dropped the book on the table with a loud thud.