16 Lady Lucille #4
Vaelira’s mouth parted, but no answer came. Faces shot through her mind—Freya, Lysander, Kili, Hames, even Keenan, who she had fought first in the task. Elijah had said the amulet had sensed her power, yet the demon hadn’t come for her opponent.
“Jon was targeted.” Galfri continued. “But not because your powers drew the demon. I believe it was planned, to get to you.”
“So, it was my fault.”
He shook his head. “If a dog maims a boy to reach the kitten in his arms, is it the kitten’s fault? No. The blame lies with the beast, and more than that, with its master.”
It made sense, but her chest still ached and her throat burned.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be so quick to blame yourself, Vaelira. It can lead nowhere good.”
It was silent for a moment. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “Why would someone want me dead?”
“I do not know. Perhaps they see you as a threat to their plans. They could have sensed your power and feared you would interfere.”
Jon’s death may not have been her fault, not directly, but someone had used him to get to her. Someone had ripped the last of her roots from the earth and left her untethered.
After a moment, Galfri released her hand and straightened in his seat, wincing slightly at the movement. “Tell no one of what we have spoken tonight. This city’s heart is blacker than the wastes. I do not trust it.”
He rose, and she followed. Before reaching the door, he paused, one hand resting on the iron handle. “Do not let guilt consume you, Vaelira. It will fester in your mind and feed your fear.” His expression hardened. “Fear is the death of essensia.”
But fear no longer filled her. Beneath her ribs, something steadier had taken its place. Something deep and simmering with heat. She would find whoever orchestrated her brother’s death, and when she did, they would suffer. She’d make sure of it.
Galfri eyes narrowed before he turned, leading her down the stairs and through several hallways until they reached a small room on the ground floor. The room was mostly empty, save for a few crooked shelves and cobwebs. He closed the door behind them, resting his palm above the handle.
Vaelira felt the air shift as he moved his fingers in a slow circle. There was a faint click. He’d locked it with his essensia. Vaelira stared at the lock, as if she might be able to see his power lingering there if she tried hard enough, but there was no trace.
He walked to the centre of the room, knelt, and placed a palm against the floor. Stone shifted, grinding as a perfect seam split, revealing a narrow passage leading into darkness.
“As we have already established, demons are drawn to essensia,” he said, standing again. “The only place it seems to go undetected is beneath this mountain. This passage was for those on the guard who practised before the priests forced them from the city. Now only essensia can open them.”
“Will you show me how?”
“It is simple enough, but your mind must be clear.” He raised his eyebrows slightly.
Vaelira moved forward, a small thrill coursing through her at the thought of finally putting her power to use.
“Place your palm on the stone,” he instructed, stepping aside. “Now, find the flame. It should sit low, beneath your heart. Call it forward, but gently. Do not stoke it too hard.”
She knelt beside the passage and pressed her hand into the cold stone. She found the flame, right where she had felt that glimmer of warmth in Madame Noctra’s. She coaxed it forward. Light bloomed under her palm. She gasped and pulled her hand back. The glow vanished.
“Good,” Galfri said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Now again, but this time, let it simmer under the surface. The physical manifestation is not necessary. Draw the energy out, without the flame.”
She tried again, but each time her power surfaced, the flame appeared with it.
“Clear your mind,” Galfri said.
Closing her eyes, Vaelira took several slow breaths.
Her chest still ached, but the clawing grief had faded slightly.
She focused on clearing her mind, letting the dark shadows recede until a faint thrum pulsed under her palm.
It rose, but this time, the flame stayed hidden, the power fitting around her hand like a glove.
Galfri gave a soft grunt of satisfaction. “Now push it into the stone. Not the flame, just the raw energy. Tell the passage to shut.”
She closed her eyes and focused, willing the energy into the stone. Willing it to close.
It slammed shut. She fell backward, heart racing.
Galfri laughed. “With time, you will find subtlety,” he said. “But your instinct is good.”
Vaelira smiled despite herself. “What would you do if I hadn’t managed it?”
“I would be forced to walk through the passage to open the exit at the barracks. My knees thank you.”
She laughed, surprising herself with the sound. She turned her palm up, brushing her thumb across the faint lines that etched her skin. The essensia had left no mark, just a tingling sensation, as if it were saying, finally.
She pressed her hand to the floor again and the stone opened more smoothly this time, as if eager to obey.
“To defend yourself, and others, you must master your power,” Galfri said. His voice had turned firm. “You must control it. Or it will control you.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” she said, staring into the yawning tunnel.
“I will help you.”
She turned to him, studying him in full.
His thin frame was bent with age, his skin clinging to the bones as if it might slip free at any moment.
His white hair was thin wisps at his scalp, his skin ashen from long days beneath the mountain.
He looked like he might collapse under the weight of a strong wind.
“You can’t fight,” she said quietly.
Galfri gave a small, rueful smile. “I have lived over a century. I taught myself everything within these walls, but without a mentor, my progress was slow. Now, my body can no longer bear what my spirit could summon. But you can.”
She looked back to the dark passage at her feet. Galfri couldn’t fight if he meant to survive. If he meant to pass along his knowledge.
But she could.