Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The morning air bites at my cheeks as I stand in a training ring, surrounded by the forest of the academy. Dew clings to blades of grass, catching the early light. Birds call to each other from the surrounding trees, oblivious to the magical training session about to unfold.
I can almost see the faint shimmer of magical wards encircling the training space, or maybe that’s just my imagination filling in what Wylder told me is there.
“Again.” Wylder’s voice is patient but firm. “Feel the boundary of your energy, then extend it outward.”
I close my eyes, trying to concentrate.
For the past two days, we’ve been working on me generating a personal shield. Apparently, it’s an essential defensive technique for any self-respecting witch.
One I could’ve used to protect myself the other night from the attack of shadows.
So far, I’ve produced exactly nothing useful.
“It’s like drawing a boundary around yourself,” Wylder explains for what must be the tenth time.
“Not a wall, more like a bubble. It holds an intention. It can be something like, ‘you can’t hurt me’ or ‘you can’t get to me’.
Whatever your intent, you need to focus on that thought and bring it into reality. ”
I get the concept. I really do. But the energy is slippery, like trying to hold water in cupped hands with too many gaps between my fingers. Every time I think I’ve got it, the power drains away before I can shape it.
I extend my hands, palms facing outward, and try again. A wobbly shimmer appears, about the size of my palm and just as unstable as the last five attempts.
“Believe it or not, you’re getting closer,” Wylder encourages. “Now try again, hold it steady, and let it grow.”
The shimmer wavers, then pops like a soap bubble. Frustration burns in my chest. I drop my hands to my sides. “I don’t understand why this is so hard. I accidentally summoned a warehouse full of vengeful spirits last week. Why can’t I do this basic thing on purpose?”
Wylder doesn’t flinch at my outburst. “Because intention without control, and fueled by fear, is like a flame to dry brush. You didn’t summon those ghosts as much as the magical chaos within you exploded in an effort to save yourself.”
He straightens and offers me a sad smile. “You must’ve been terribly afraid for that to have happened.”
Yeah, no shit. Waking up at the mercy of five whack-job witches experimenting on you can do that to a person.
“And while I don’t view what happened the same way you do, I’m sorry for my part in making you feel threatened.”
My mouth falls open, my cheeks flushing hot. An apology from Broody McScowlyface? Um, wow.
I look around, but I don’t see any pigs flying.
An awkward silence stretches between us, charged with something I can’t name. Wylder shifts his weight, looking almost uncomfortable—an expression I’ve never seen on his usually stoic and stupidly handsome face.
“I…”
“Well, well. Look who’s getting private lessons.” The feminine voice slices through the moment like a dagger. I turn to find Amber strolling toward us, her auburn-haired friend at her side. Both wear a smug expression as if they’re the keepers of a secret.
“Amber.” Wylder’s tone flattens. “This is a private training session.”
“Oh, we’re just passing through.” Amber’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks me up and down like I’m something she scraped off her shoe. “We wanted to see if the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?” The words come out sharper than I intend and before my better judgment kicks in. Dammit, I’ve dealt with bullies enough to know I don’t care what they’re about to say, but now I’ve opened the door.
The auburn-haired witch laughs. “That you’re such an embarrassment you can’t even manage basic shields.”
Yep, I walked right into that one.
Amber laughs next. “You realize there’s no way the Goddess Mother will bless you with skills after your mother got the Hallowind bloodline marked by a demon, don’t you?”
My hands curl into fists. Heat rises in my chest, spreading outward like wildfire. “You realize how pathetic it makes you to kick another woman when she’s down, don’t you?”
“That’s enough.” Wylder steps forward, but Amber ignores him.
“I mean, really, what do you expect? You’re tainted. Your mother made a deal with darkness itself, and now you’re here pretending you belong with us.” She tilts her head, false sympathy dripping from every word. “It’s almost sad.”
“You know nothing about my mother or what happened.” My voice shakes with barely contained rage.
“I know she was desperate enough to bargain with a demon. I know she died for it and killed three other members of our coven. And I know you’ll be nothing more than a liability no matter how long you stay here and ‘practice’ being a witch.”
Amber makes air quotes when she says ‘practice’ and then takes a step closer, dropping her voice to a mock whisper.
“Face it, Poppy. You’re nothing. When danger closes in, you can’t even defend yourself.
In the clutch, you drop to the ground and try to swat away danger, crying for someone to save you. ”
The words hit like a physical blow. Not because she’s right, but because she knows she’s right. The attack the other night left me bleeding and terrified.
But there’s only one way she could know how I reacted to the Shadow Hex…
“It was you.” The realization makes my voice deadly quiet. “You hexed me.”
Amber’s smile widens. “Prove it.”
Something inside me snaps.
The rage and frustration I’ve been holding back for days—weeks—years—explodes outward in a wave of raw power. The air around me ignites with blue-white flame, spectral fire that roars to life with the force of my fury.
Amber and her friend don’t have time to react. The explosion catches them both, engulfing their bodies and throwing them backward until they hit the trunks of trees with horrifying thunks.
Screams pierce the morning air as they roll on the ground, batting at the magical blue flames.
Something dark inside me stretches. “Who’s on the ground, swatting at danger now, bitch?”
“Poppy! Stop!” Wylder’s shout barely registers.
But I can’t stop. Power pours out of me, uncontrolled and wild, and it feels good. So good. It’s like the pressure valve of my magic has been released. It’s a relief.
And it’s so damned liberating.
“Poppy, you’re hurting them!” Wylder’s panic filters through the euphoria of letting loose. “You have to stop.”
I hear the plea in his words as he rushes over to help the girls. The fire has spread beyond the two of them, catching on nearby trees.
The moment Wylder sets Amber and her friend free from the blaze, they flee, screaming as they disappear into the smoke.
The inferno rages around us, crackling and snapping. My chest heaves as I stare at what I’ve done.
“Oh, my god. I set the forest on fire!” My cry comes out ten octaves higher than normal.
Wylder’s face is pale, his eyes wide with shock. He throws his hands toward the burning trees, and I feel the pull of his magical signature as he wraps the flames in a shimmering cocoon.
But instead of extinguishing, the fire burns right through his efforts, growing higher.
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Why isn’t it working? Why can’t you put it out?”
“It’s spirit fire,” Wylder calls over his shoulder, backing away from the increasingly intense heat. “Stay calm. You started it. You can stop it. Spirit fire listens to the one who casts it.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. My panic spikes, and with it, the flames surge higher, engulfing the lower branches.
“I don’t know how!” I yell, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know panicking will only make things worse. I drop to my knees, pressing my palms against the cool earth. I close my eyes, trying to find that quiet center I find when using the calming sigils Wylder taught me.
I focus on the sigils, tracing them quickly with my finger on the grass. As the magic takes hold, a golden line ignites, outlining every curve and line of my intention.
Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.
“I don’t know how to do this, Wylder,” I say much calmer this time.
He meets my gaze and holds up his hands.
“If this were me, I’d picture roots extending from my body down into the soil, anchoring me.
I’d imagine the fire as an extension of myself, not separate, not scary, just energy that needs direction.
And then, when I made that connection, I’d simply dial it down until the flames extinguished. ”
Okay, that helps.
I close my eyes and do as he suggested. I picture the flames as part of my spirit affinity that broke into the wild. It’s not out of control. It’s just untethered and needs direction. The biggest problem is that I’ve barely gotten to know my affinity.
But focusing on that isn’t helpful.
I draw another deep breath and reach toward the raging blue flames. Whether or not they were intentional, they are a part of me made manifest.
My signature energy. My magical affinity. My creation.
I take Wylder’s advice and look at the flames as an extension of myself and not something to be terrified of. That helps a lot. I feel my energy, and I rein it in.
Bit by bit, I call the spirit fire back to me, and when I open my eyes, the flames have dimmed to a soft blue glow. I exhale slowly, and the fire snuffs out completely, leaving behind an area of charred, smoking trunks.
“Yikes. Can you fix this? I’m totally going to get kicked out of here if I’ve destroyed a precious ancient grove.”
He takes in the damage and nods. “I’ve got it.”
I sink onto the ground and work on steadying my heart rate as he repairs the damage. When he’s finished, there is no trace of the assault I unleashed on the wilds.
“Okay, new rule,” I say, pulling myself together and climbing to my feet. “No hecklers allowed during training.”
Wylder’s smile is strained but genuine. He gestures to a wooden bench near the affected area. “Come on. Let’s take a moment to regroup.”