Chapter 40
Ellowyn
“Focus! Feel how your soul is connected to your magic! Pull from that spot within, feel it run through your veins. Become one with your power,” Mage d’Talionis’ voice rang through the training yard as he instructed our small groups of cadets on using our magic.
None of the cadets had Vessels yet, so they all used crystals.
Except for me.
Not only was I the odd one with a nearly endless well of power resting inside me like a writhing, chaotic mass of energy waiting to be unleashed, but I was also the only Destruction Mage in the group, the only Creation Mage as well.
As such, I was given my own area in the training yard to practice. We were cordoned off based on our affinity; it was safer for cadets that way and allowed those of the same affinity to learn from each other.
Nearly half of the class was either an Air or Fire Mage, with four other cadets classified as Water or Earth Mages.
There was a lone Pleasure Mage and, whenever she released her magic, I could nearly taste it in the air, my power reserves pulsating in delight in time with her power.
Because there was no one else like me, Lex was unsure if this was normal or something that only happened to me.
Ever since my question, he and his Vessels had watched me closer, constantly inspecting my every move.
It was unnerving, to say the least.
I closed my eyes and held my hands loosely at my sides as I relished in the ability to feel my magic again.
The runes Fay inscribed on my skin were fading rapidly, and I was growing concerned that I hadn’t yet found a way to control my magic.
I was nervous that, once the rune faded completely, my magic would start jumping from my hands on its own without my direction.
That’s why it was imperative that I learned to control it.
Focus, Ellowyn. Focus.
I sought that writhing ball of power within my chest—it glowed faintly, a myriad of colors mixing together, eliciting a complex array of emotions the longer I tried to tap into it. The harder I concentrated, my brow beading with sweat at the effort, the more my magic evaded my grasp.
I opened my eyes with a frustrated, close-lipped scream, and Destruction Magic suddenly burst from my palm, fizzling against the barriers created to keep our magic inside our own training areas.
Stomping my foot in petulant anger, I gripped the end of my long braid and tugged hard. I kept it away from my face and donned the same clothing as the rest of the cadets in both an effort to fit in and simply because they were much more practical for wielding magic.
Damn Alois and his ability to select appropriate garments.
It was a wayward thought that simply made me more agitated, which caused Destruction Magic to shoot across the space a second time.
“You’re trying too hard,” a soft voice like ocean waves called from just beyond the barrier at my back. I whipped around, my braid trailing behind me, and turned my frustrated gaze on the giant of a Pleasure Vessel.
Ilyas was in his mid-thirties and built even more like a brick house than Peytor was before his time in the mines. His dark-blond hair was cropped close to his head, exposing a square-shaped jaw and ears.
Everything about the man was intimidating, except for his eyes.
They held tenderness and adoration, care and devotion, especially whenever he looked at Lex.
The love between the two of them was so clear and apparent that any outward displays of affection between the Mage and his Vessel had feelings of pure joy and want stirring deep within my chest.
“What do you mean?” I snapped unintentionally and watched as Ilyas raised his eyebrows a fraction. I closed my eyes, blew out a breath, and tried again.
“Sorry. What do you mean I’m trying too hard?” I softened my voice and tried to open myself up for criticism and advice.
Ilyas nodded once before crossing his arms, the movement causing his biceps to bulge and shift.
“You’re practically shaking with the effort of trying to draw your power. It’s more of a natural connection, a feeling that’s deep inside you. Don’t you feel your soul calling to your magic?”
I frowned, thinking.
“Yes? In a way. I feel it right here”—I rubbed my sternum—“but it’s chaos. There’s no rhyme or reason to it and I cannot pick out the individual strands of power. It’s all just . . . lumped together.”
Ilyas nodded, one hand coming up to rub his jaw.
“Lex had a similar issue after he Bonded Sasori,” Ilyas admitted, and I cocked my head.
“Really?”
Ilyas nodded. “I think it has something to do with having access to more than one power.”
That seemed . . . oddly intuitive and simple.
“So how did he overcome it?”
A slow grin spread across Ilyas’ face. “Fucked us over and over until he knew our souls so intimately that it was impossible to get us confused.”
My ears reddened, and I rolled my eyes in deflection while I shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, considering I don’t have multiple Vessels, I think that theory is null and void.”
Ilyas chuckled at my snark before growing thoughtful again.
“The concept is the same, though, right? He found a way to separate the different pieces of his power within his soul. Identification and separation. Instead of focusing on trying to draw from your power source, maybe sit and try and parcel out each of your powers. Find one string of it and follow it to the very end. Put it in a box, then do the same for your other power,” he said, and I stood gaping at him open-mouthed. “Just a thought.”
“How do you know that? That’s . . . that’s brilliant, Ilyas,” I breathed and was pleased to see his cheeks pink at my praise.
“It’s nothing, Lady d’Refan, just advice based on experience,” he said with a shrug as I wrinkled my nose at the name.
“Just Ellowyn, please.”
Ilyas chuckled at my expression again before waving a hand in my direction.
“Go ahead. Sit down and figure that out. I think that’ll go a long way in helping you learn control, too.”
With his invaluable wisdom imparted, Ilyas walked away from my little cubicle, moving to work with the group of Air Mages. Lex was having an in-depth conversation with the Pleasure Mage while Sasori stood off to the side of the training yard, a dark cloud of a sentinel.
There was something . . . off about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I shrugged, pushing all other extraneous thoughts to the side as I sat and tried to parcel out each piece of my magic.
I practically skipped up the stairs of the manor, my boots barely touching the steps as I climbed.
Joy filled my soul. Ilyas’ advice had proven invaluable, and I’d spent the remainder of the lesson today parceling out each of my powers.
Once I connected with one strand and pulled it apart, it felt easier to connect to the rest. I expected to only have two strands—one for my Creation Magic and the other for Destruction—but I oddly found four.
I figured that, maybe, I just had two extra strands because of my uniqueness as both a Vessel and a Mage.
Though that conclusion didn’t feel quite right, as neither of the other two strands of power felt quite like my Creation or Destruction Magic.
The oddity of my discovery sent me skipping from the training yard—after giving Ilyas a hug, which caused him to blush in surprise—straight to Fay’s room. If anyone knew what was happening inside my body, it was her.
I knocked lightly on her door before a strained “come in” sounded from within.
I pushed the door open with a slight squeak and chuckled lightly when it refused to open all the way. I slipped through the crack, careful not to step on any loose papers or knock any stacks of books in my haste.
“Knock, knock!” I called, not seeing Faylinn in her sitting room.
Maybe she’s buried under her books?
Death by knowledge—the thought was amusing. If anyone could die from a book, it would be Fay.
“Ellowyn!” Fay’s excited call came from somewhere near her bedroom door, and I heard a soft “meow” as a secondary response. I looked down just as the fluffy grey cat, Cotton, rubbed himself along and between my legs, purring the entire time.
I squatted down to pet him, inordinately pleased as his back arched from the attention, his soft purr growing louder.
“Oh, you attention whore,” Fay said playfully, much to Cotton’s chagrin. He slipped from between my legs, tail in the air, as he leaped onto a wobbling pile of books and promptly sat down.
I giggled as I brushed his long, grey hairs from my pants and hands.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Fay asked, her eyes crinkling with a smile. I could practically feel the happiness in the air.
“I have a question for you,” I said lightly as I tiptoed around the books and journals.
“I really need to clean,” Fay muttered under her breath, blowing a wayward curl from her face as I found an open space on the floor to sit.
I laughed. “We both know you’re going to say that, and nothing is going to happen to this room other than you piling more books into this already cramped space.”
“Bitch,” Fay said with an eye roll as she made her way to sit next to me, but there was no heat in her voice.
“Hoarder,” I shot right back. She sat next to me with a huff, her comforting scent wafting over me.
I hugged her quickly in greeting before getting right down to my problem.
Fay appreciated directness, and I figured that I had her undivided attention for maybe ten minutes before her mind inevitably trailed elsewhere.
She was simply incredibly intelligent with a lot to think about.
“So, I was working on controlling my magic today,” I started, and Fay bobbed her head.
“And?”
“Well, the control part is still a disaster, but I think I made some headway today.” I proceeded to tell her about Ilyas’ trick for separating my magics and consequently finding four power strands.
Predictably, Fay’s brow furrowed in thought as she chewed her lip. Immediately, her little journal appeared in her hands from her belt and she scribbled something in the margin of a paper.
“You identified four separate magics, not just your Destruction and Creation Magic?” she repeated, scratching at her hair with the base of her pencil.
I nodded.
“Yeah, though I’m wondering if the other two strands were just extensions of my Destruction and Creation Magic, you know? Especially because I’m the only one like me.”
“So special,” Fay teased, but I could already tell that her mind was elsewhere. I watched as her tattooed toes clenched and unclenched, her whole body thinking.
“What do you think?” I asked after a few moments of silence.
Fay startled suddenly before snapping her journal closed and pocketing it back in her belt.
“I’m not sure. I have a few . . . theories, but I have to do more research first.” She looked absently around her crowded space.
“See”—I patted her knee—“like I said, you’ll just add more books to your collection.”
She snorted in mirth but shook her head.
“No, I think it’s finally time I visited the Academy’s library.”