Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Six hours later, I’m laying in the long grass, a sweating, panting mess. I’ve excelled at most things throughout my life, but clearly, this will not be one of them.
“Why don’t you try taking your boots off?” Stryx offers, sitting cross-legged on a tree stump a few feet away, blowing on her fifth mug of tea. Osiris sits in-between us, though his eyes have been unabashedly set on Stryx the entire time.
“Stryx, not everything can be solved with bare feet,” I scold, though my words lack any bite as I run my teeth along my lip, trying to stifle my laughter.
“Yes, well, I wore shoes to that brothel, and look how that went,” she points out, and my laughter bursts free.
“Causation and correlation aren’t the same thing, Stryx,” I cackle. “I doubt the Gods decided our fates would be determined by your feet.”
Osiris shrugs with an indecent smile. “I don’t know, they look pretty great to me.”
Stryx throws a stick at his head and I howl.
“For love of Scath, can we please stop talking about feet,” Amari begs, but her appalled face only makes us all laugh harder.
I roll over onto my front, my laughter subsiding as I watch Amari’s blue aura escape once more as she reaches for her magic.
She stands barefoot at the edge of the lake, the hem of her gown brushing the water’s shining surface.
The vines that hang from the canopy pulse with their faint blue light, echoing the rhythm of her breathing as the waterfall roars behind us.
“The magic of the Echofae does not only come from within,” Amari reminds me softly, her voice carrying over the water. “It flows through us. The earth, the air, the moonlight—they are the conduits. We are simply the vessel.”
I gingerly get to my feet again, my joints protesting profusely, my hands trembling slightly. “And if the vessel is cracked?” I ask, half joking, half afraid as I mentally catalog all the places where my body hurts.
Amari smiles, but there’s sadness behind it. “Then we mend it, slowly. Patiently.”
I click my tongue in annoyance. Patience is not a luxury I can afford right now, not with the clock ticking on these murders.
She studies me with a grimace. “You still feel so much pain? It hasn’t changed?”
My gaze snaps to hers. “You know of it?”
Please, please give me some answers. Please let there be a solution–
“You were born in pain, my sweet child. As a baby you cried often, for no clear reason. Then as you grew and learnt to speak, you often complained about your pain. We took you to our best healers, but all confirmed there was nothing to be done,” she explains sadly.
I feel like the world has been ripped from under my feet. “There’s truly nothing that can be done?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers with a shake of her head.
For a second, I truly thought that this repressed part of myself might be the key to my pain, that unlocking it could be the answer I’ve been looking for.
I feel a heavy weight press down on my shoulders.
I always thought I would feel better if I at least had an explanation, but now I just feel worse than ever.
Suddenly, I’ve lost all motivation to practice my magic.
“I need a break,” I mumble, turning to trudge back to the cabin, their concerned faces watching my retreat.
I slump down ungracefully into a chair on the porch, feeling sullen. I can’t come to terms with the fact that I can’t fix my pain, even with access to all three types of magic. It’s just inconceivable.
After a while, someone steps up behind me and takes a seat in the adjacent chair. I turn and fail to hide my surprise when I’m greeted with Osiris’s smile.
“They’re arguing over you again,” he says by way of explanation. “Figured I’d come rescue you.”
“Rescue yourself from their squabbling, you mean,” I laugh, though there’s no humour in it and my smile falls. “Is it really true that no one can fix me?”
His smile drops too and he watches me with careful eyes. “There’s nothing to fix.”
I turn to face him fully, biting on my lip as I try to hold back my tears. “Amari said you’re a healer, one of their best. Can you not try?”
He leans forward and takes my hands in his. “Octavia, that’s not how this works. I can only fix what’s broken.”
I scoff. “I’m as broken as you can get.”
“No,” he says fiercely. “You are not broken. You’re just different, and that’s okay. Strength isn’t just physical. You’ve managed to navigate a world not built for you, and come out stronger despite it. You should be proud of yourself. Gods know I am.”
I sniff, my traitorous tears starting to fall. “I’ve come here to find out who I am, but somehow I just feel so…lost.”
“I understand,” he says with a small smile. “Maybe it’s about time you got your power back. Your real power. Harnessing your magic may help you start to piece yourself back together.”
“I don’t seem to be doing a good job at it so far,” I grumble, not willing to admit how much it irks me that I’m actually not good at something for a change.
“Practice makes perfect. You just need to keep trying,” he encourages. “I know you can’t stay long, but if you stay just a few days, I promise we will make some progress. Then you can leave knowing you’ve accomplished something.”
My ears prick up at that, and he smiles knowingly at me.
“Okay,” I breathe, clenching his hand tight. “Let’s do this.”
Amari kneels and places her palm flat against the damp soil for what feels like the thousandth time. The light in the vines intensifies, threads of energy shimmering through the ground until they reach her hand. The air hums, charged and alive.
“Breathe,” Amari instructs. “Let the pulse of the world align with yours. Don’t force the connection. Invite it.”
My aunt has been a reassuring presence by my side these last few days, her patience never wavering.
In such a short time, I already feel a kinship with both her and Osiris, the pair of them answering every single one of my million questions without hesitation, comforting me when I don’t like the answers.
I copy her, lowering myself to my knees, the right one clicking painfully as I imitate Amari’s gesture, pressing my hands to the cool earth.
At first, nothing happens. But instead of letting my annoyance consume me like I’ve been doing through the last few days of near constant practice, I take a deep breath and relax, zoning in on the feeling of the grit of the earth between my fingers.
Then, a faint whisper, a slight tingle under my skin.
The tingle grows to a rumble, like distant thunder.
The air thickens, smelling of petrichor.
My heart lurches, but as soon as my pulse spikes, the connection falters and the whisper fades.
I exhale sharply in frustration. “It’s like trying to hold water in my hands. It just…slips away.”
Stryx takes a sip of her tea, then tilts her head.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she says with a smirk. “You’re trying to control it like mortal magic. That’s not how ours works.”
“Then how does it work?” I snap. My panic threatens to surface again.
After the elder warned me of the consequences of harnessing the Veyne, I’ve been a nervous wreck.
Trying to access this magic that should supposedly be innate within me, whilst simultaneously trying not to accidentally channel the Veyne, is proving a monumentally difficult task.
Stryx gives me a pointed look like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, and lays down her tea, getting up to walk behind me and placing her palms gently over my shoulders.
“Stop reaching inward,” she murmurs. “That’s how your threads are getting crossed.
You’ve spent your whole life trying to grasp something unnatural.
But the Echofae don’t grasp at their magic.
We listen. The earth already knows your name—it’s been whispering it since the day you were born. You just have to listen back.”
I close my eyes, forcing myself to still the storm inside my head as my fingers flex in the soft grass.
I breathe slowly and I start to feel a slight hum within the earth.
Slowly, my heartbeat syncs with the rhythm of the world beneath my fingers, and I feel the soil tremble, the pulse of the ancient magic thrumming up through my arms, my chest, my throat…
It answers.
A soft glow radiates from my fingertips, flowing up my hands in threads of pale blue light. The vines around us shimmer brighter, the lake’s surface rippling with energy that seems to breathe in time with me.
Amari’s eyes widen slightly, awe breaking through her usual composure. “You’ve done it,” she whispers. “You’ve made the connection.”
My voice trembles. “It’s beautiful.”
Stryx grins. “Told you. You just had to stop thinking like a mortal. You won’t have to touch the Veyne again.”
Amari’s gaze snaps to mine, her smile fading. “You still channel the Veyne?”
Osiris drops his teacup, his wide-eyed gaze darting between us.
My eyes narrow, my magic cutting off abruptly. “What do you mean still?”
Stryx gasps. “You? You taught her this evil?”
“You accuse me of things you do not understand, Princess,” Amari says slowly, walking past us back to the cabin, my lesson apparently over.
Stryx gives me an uneasy look which I return.
“This is going to sound controversial, but I think that went well,” Osiris says, and Stryx lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?”
He shrugs, checking an imaginary timepiece. “Nah. Not until seven.”
Stryx and I spend the afternoon continuing to practice until I have managed to channel enough from the ground that my magic feels like it’s practically overflowing.
Amari doesn’t come back.
But right now, I don’t care. I feel like I’m ready to take on the world.
This magic has no consequences, no burden, and whilst my pain may not be curable, I can at least lessen it by charging my black market trinkets myself.
I no longer have to rely on Stryx to do it for me.
Tears prick at my eyes at the thought. For the first time, I truly feel powerful, in control. It feels amazing.