Chapter 34 The First Lessons #2
Luz flourished under pressure, settling into the work with ease. The instant Hecate nodded for her to begin, Luz closed her eyes and breathed in, palms resting against the floorboards, listening. The air became damp, as though rain had passed through hours ago and left its memory behind.
“Don’t ask the earth to move,” Hecate instructed. “Ask it what it’s holding.”
Luz murmured in Spanish, the words slipping through her like water finding familiar channels. The floorboards creaked as moisture gathered in the grain.
Hairline cracks darkened, and roots emerged. They followed seams, sliding through existing fractures, curling around chair legs and table feet. They climbed the walls, tracing moisture paths.
“Good,” Hecate said. “Now listen.”
The roots quivered, and Luz’s breath caught.
“They’re thirsty,” she whispered.
“Everything is,” Hecate replied. “Now release them by letting the water go.”
Luz’s hands lifted, fingers trembling as she exhaled and withdrew the moisture.
The roots paled, softened, and slowly retreated, sliding back through the cracks they had never broken.
The wood dried, and the seams closed, leaving no damage behind.
Luz opened her eyes, breath unsteady. Her grin was quieter than before, touched with awe.
Leo had to portal objects Hecate hurled across the room.
She tossed a wooden spoon first, and he fumbled it entirely.
It sailed past him and dented the plaster.
The second time, he opened a portal but made it too small.
The paperweight Hecate tossed at him ricocheted off the edge and shattered Kian’s window.
Kian made a sound like a dying whale. “That window was original to the building, from 1892.”
“I’ll pay for it!” Leo called, wincing.
Hecate tossed a cup of water next. Leo’s portal opened fine, but he misjudged the exit. The water came flying back above his head, drenching him.
Luz cackled. May bit her lip. Kian’s mouth twitched.
“Stop showing off,” Hecate snapped. “Feel more. Think less.”
Leo wrung out his shirt, still grinning. “Feel the space, be the space, don’t think about the space—”
“You’re thinking about it right now,” Hecate sighed.
“Damn it.”
Then it was my turn.
I brought forth blooms—daisies, violets, roses—only to let them wither, again and again. Each cycle drained me further.
“Faster,” Hecate commanded. “Birth and death in three seconds.”
I tried. The flower bloomed, but the decay was instant.
“You’re favoring decay,” she observed. “Why?”
“It’s easier,” I admitted.
“Because you fear creation,” she said. “Afraid of the responsibility of giving life. You cannot rule spring while fearing it. Again.”
Each time the flower twisted or died too fast, she snapped, “You are not asking politely. Command it. You are a goddess, not a supplicant.”
Hours passed. The afternoon sun slanted through windows at different angles.
Heat curled under my skin. My vision swam every time I stood up too fast, and there was a persistent ringing in my ears.
Even the sound of chatter and laughter became muffled.
I tried to keep anyone from seeing—especially Kian.
He’d stop everything if he thought I was going too far.
But he was observant as ever. Kian leaned over my shoulder as I tried to catch my breath, pressing a bottle of water into my trembling hands.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, Tealeaf,” he whispered, worry etched into his features. “You’re paler than usual.”
I forced a smile, taking a sip of water that tasted like metal. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s a lot.”
He didn’t appear convinced.
As we wrapped up for the day, Hecate made a small gesture with her hand.
The broken pitcher reassembled itself on the table, the shattered window reformed pane by pane, wet papers dried and straightened, and overturned chairs righted themselves.
She said nothing, but Kian’s shoulders relaxed as his flat returned to order.
The others were still buzzing with excitement. May and Leo kept arguing over whose powers were objectively cooler, and Luz was peppering Hecate with rapid-fire questions about earth rites and water magic.
“Out,” Hecate said, waving them all toward the door. “You’ve had enough to think on for one day. Go home before you burn down the building.”
May elbowed me on her way past.
“Rest,” she said, eyes flooded with concern. “That’s not a suggestion.”
Leo gave me a pointed look. “Seriously. Sleep.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. Stop fussing.”
Luz gave me a small smile that said she could see through my bullshit, hugging me tightly. And then they were gone.
I bent to start gathering up the mess of melted candles. “You know, you handle chaos pretty well for a solitary shadow king.”
Kian’s eyebrow ticked up. “Chaos seems to follow you everywhere, Tealeaf. Before you, my life was quiet and organized.”
“Boring,” I corrected, grinning as I straightened with an armful of scorched candle stubs. “Admit it, you love the chaos.”
He grinned sheepishly. “The chaos is just part of the package of having you in my life again. It’s worth it.”
The words made my heart flutter in my chest. But before I could respond, I turned too fast toward the trash bin. The room swam, tilting sideways, and my stomach lurched. The candles fell from my arms, clattering to the floor.
I reached for a candle stub, and my knees gave out. I had a single second of confused panic—
The last thing I heard was Kian shouting my name before everything went black.
When I came back to myself, the first thing I felt was cold. A compress was pressed to my forehead and my head on a pillow. Someone had placed me on the couch. The second thing I registered was voices, low and angry in that controlled way that meant people were fighting but trying not to yell.
The third thing was the pounding in my head. I forced my eyes open anyway, squinting against the lamplight. My mouth tasted like copper, and my whole body ached. Memory returned in fragments. Training, flowers dying, exhaustion building, the world tilting.
Oh. I fainted.
Kian stood with his back half-turned to me, shoulders rigid and hands clenched at his sides. Hecate lounged against the opposite wall, arms folded, expression carved from stone.
“You’re pushing her too hard,” Kian said, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it. “I have been watching her deteriorate for hours, but you kept demanding more.”
“She is not a child who needs coddling,” Hecate snapped. “She is a goddess, even if her mortal body hasn’t caught up yet. This process is painful. This is growth.”
“She is mortal! Her body breaks!” He growled. “You’re treating her like she’s already immortal when she can still die.”
“And you’re treating her like she’s made of glass,” Hecate shot back.
“Yes, the strain is real. Her body and spirit are at war. But it will not last forever, Shadow King. The mortal frame must bend to accommodate the divine inside it. The strain will pass once her body accepts what her soul already knows.”
“At what cost?” Kian’s voice rose an octave. “How many times does she have to collapse before you consider that maybe you’re pushing too hard, too fast?”
Hecate sighed. “If she can’t defend herself, then all of this will be meaningless because she’ll be dead.”
The word hung in the air.
“Kian?” My voice cracked.
Both of them turned. Hecate’s gaze softened a fraction, but Kian’s whole expression changed. The hard, furious mask melted away, and in its place was something wide-eyed and achingly tender.
“Melanie.” He was at my side in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees beside the couch. “You’re awake. Thank all the gods.”
His hands fluttered over me like he couldn’t decide where to touch first, finally settling on brushing damp strands of hair off my forehead. He pressed the back of his hand to my cheek, then my forehead, checking my temperature.
“How long was I out?” I managed.
“About a minute,” he said. “I barely caught you before you hit the floor.”
“Sorry,” I whispered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He wilted a little. “Don’t apologize for your body having limits.”
I reached for his hand, my fingers weak but determined. “Okay. No apologies. But I’m okay now. I promise.”
“You’re not,” he retorted, his thumb stroking my knuckles. “You’re still feverish.”
Behind him, Hecate exhaled. She stepped closer, and warmth spilled through my limbs as she extended her hand over me, chasing away the worst of the pain.