Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Winter
I glanced down at the glowing blue symbols that now reached my elbow. They pulsed with a gentle rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
"So?" I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant while shoving another saltine in my mouth. "They're just fancy tattoos."
"They are not 'just fancy tattoos,'" Fenric's eye twitched, which had started to become more frequent to my amusement. "They are physical manifestations of prophetic energy. According to my analysis, your elevated cortisol levels are destabilizing the prophecy matrix."
"My what is doing what now?" I brushed cracker crumbs from my shirt.
"Your stress," Rook translated from his position by the window, "is making your magic go haywire."
As if to prove his point, the saltine in my hand suddenly transformed into a butterfly that fluttered away, leaving me staring at my empty palm.
"That was my last cracker," I mourned and watched the butterfly.
"Precisely my concern," Fenric tapped something into his tablet. "Protocol dictates mandatory magical decompression for prophetic vessels exhibiting signs of instability."
"Magical decompression?" I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds suspiciously like another test."
"Not a test," Zane chimed in from where he lounged against the kitchen counter. "More like a spa day."
"A spa day?" I perked up slightly. After the hedge maze from hell and two more days of being cooped up in this apartment, even Fenric's bureaucratic idea of relaxation sounded appealing.
"The Bureau maintains several facilities designed to help magical beings regulate their energy," Fenric explained. "Given your unique situation, I've secured appointments at The Ethereal Springs Wellness Center."
"It's pretty nice," Milo added enthusiastically. "They have these enchanted massages that find your tension spots before you even know you have them!"
"And mood-based aromatherapy," Zane added. "Scents that adjust to what you're feeling. Plus, the saltwater soaks are fate-neutral, so they won't interfere with your prophecy."
"Fate-neutral saltwater?" I raised an eyebrow. "Is regular saltwater fate-positive or something?"
"You'd be surprised," Fenric sniffed. "Many commercial spa products contain trace elements that can interfere with prophetic energies."
"Of course they do," I sighed. "Fine. When do we leave for this magical stress relief adventure?"
"Immediately," Fenric checked his watch. "I've already arranged transportation."
The Ethereal Springs Wellness Center looked like a cross between a luxury resort and something out of a fantasy novel.
Nestled in a secluded forest clearing, the building was constructed of pale stone that seemed to shimmer with an inner light.
Water features surrounded the entrance, with fountains that defied gravity and pools where the water glowed with soft pastel colors.
"This doesn't look like a government facility," I couldn't stop looking around as we approached the entrance.
"The Bureau understands the importance of aesthetics in magical relaxation," Fenric replied primly. "Studies show that proper environmental design improves magical regulation by 32%."
The interior was even more impressive. The ceiling soared overhead, creating the illusion of being underwater while remaining perfectly dry. Staff members dressed in flowing blue robes glided silently across the polished stone floors.
"Welcome to Ethereal Springs," a serene-looking woman with silver-streaked hair greeted us at the reception desk. "I see we have the Bureau party."
"Correct," Fenric handed over what looked like five identical Bureau ID cards. "We have reservations for the full wellness package."
The woman scanned the cards with a crystal wand that hummed softly. "Everything is in order. Your attendants will be with you shortly."
Rook, who had been scowling since we arrived, shifted uncomfortably beside me. "This is unnecessary," he growled under his breath. "We should be focusing on the next trial, not wasting time on pampering."
"Bureau protocol is quite clear," Fenric replied. "Prophetic stability takes precedence."
"It's just a fancy way of saying they don't want me turning more people into ferrets," I whispered to Rook, nudging him with my elbow. "And I've done it , too."
His lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
Five attendants approached, each carrying what looked like small glowing orbs. Mine, a woman with elaborate braids and eyes that shifted color like opals, smiled warmly.
"Ms. Winter? I'm Serena, your wellness guide for today." She held out the orb, which pulsed with a soft blue light. "This is your harmony sphere. It will help us customize your treatments."
I took the orb hesitantly. The moment my fingers touched it, it changed color, shifting from blue to a swirling mix of red and purple.
"Interesting," Serena observed. "High anxiety with underlying creative potential. We'll start you with a tension-release massage, followed by emotional balancing aromatherapy."
The others received similar assessments. Fenric's orb turned a precise, geometric pattern of blue and silver, which apparently indicated "structured thinking with regulatory tendencies." Milo's became a chaotic rainbow swirl that made his attendant's eyes widen in surprise.
Rook's turned a deep, smoldering amber that matched his eyes, causing his attendant, a willowy man with antlers sprouting from his temples, to take a step back.
"Perhaps we should begin with our most intensive deep tissue treatment," the antlered man suggested cautiously.
Rook growled.
"Excellent suggestion," Fenric agreed before Rook could refuse. "And I believe the facility has a specialized treatment room for shifters?"
"The Moonstone Suite, yes," the attendant nodded. "Reinforced walls and soundproofing."
"I don't need special treatment," Rook protested.
"Bureau records indicate you haven't taken a personal day in three years, seven months, and fourteen days," Fenric consulted his tablet. "Your accumulated stress levels are almost certainly affecting your ability to properly protect Ms. Winter."
"Is that true?" I turned to Rook, surprised. "No days off in over three years?"
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the attention. "The job doesn't stop."
"Well, it stops today," I declared. "Even scary werewolves need a break sometimes."
Before he could argue further, his attendant gently but firmly guided him toward a hallway marked with a crescent moon symbol. The look Rook shot me over his shoulder was one of pure betrayal.
"Don't worry," Serena smiled at me. "Deerhorn is our shifter specialist. Your friend will be in good hands."
"He's not exactly the 'good hands' type," I allowed myself to be led down a different corridor.
My treatment room was a peaceful space with walls that seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting almost imperceptibly. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something else I couldn't identify, both soothing and invigorating at the same time.
"Please change into this," Serena handed me a soft robe that felt like liquid silk against my skin. "I'll return in a few moments to begin your massage."
The massage was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Serena's hands seemed to find knots in my muscles I didn't even know existed, and as she worked, the blue markings on my arm pulsed and then gradually dimmed, as if the tension they held was being released.
"Your prophetic energy is responding well," Serena observed. "The patterns are stabilizing."
"Is that good?" My voice was muffled into the massage table and I was too relaxed to lift my head.
"Very good. Prophecies are like rivers, they need to flow smoothly. Too much turbulence, and they can overflow their banks."
"Causing reality breaches," I concluded. "Like random butterflies and ferrets."
"Exactly. Now breathe deeply. The aromatherapy is beginning."
The scent in the room shifted, becoming something warm and spicy, with undertones of cinnamon and cedar. It changed again as I breathed, softening to something that reminded me of old books and rain.
"The scent adapts to what you need," Serena explained. "Right now, it's helping ground your energy."
By the time the massage ended, I felt more relaxed than I had since this whole prophecy business began. The blue markings on my arm had settled into a steady, gentle glow rather than their usual erratic pulsing.
"The final part of your treatment is a saltwater soak," Serena informed me as she helped me sit up. "It's a communal pool, but private alcoves are available if you prefer solitude."
"Communal is fine," I yawned, stretching. "I should probably check on my chaos squad anyway."
Serena led me to a large central chamber where a pool of glowing turquoise water steamed invitingly. The ceiling above was a dome of what looked like actual night sky, stars twinkling in impossible constellations.
"Your treatment attire is suitable for the pools," Serena assured me, gesturing to the thin, silky garment I wore. "The waters are enchanted for modesty."
I approached the edge of the pool cautiously, dipping my toe in first. The water felt perfect, not too hot, not too cold, and seemed to welcome me in. As I slipped into the pool, the water around me took on a faint blue glow that matched my prophetic markings.
I had just settled onto a submerged bench when I heard a commotion from one of the adjoining corridors.
"I am perfectly capable of navigating to the pool myself," Fenric's voice carried clearly across the chamber. "Bureau regulation 472-B clearly states that attendants should maintain appropriate professional distance unless assistance is specifically requested."
He emerged looking somewhat ruffled, his usually immaculate hair slightly disheveled. His attendant followed, looking apologetic.
"The gentleman insisted on proceeding alone," she explained to no one in particular.