Chapter 26
In what felt like mere seconds, we passed through the giant black-and-white doors into Fhírinne.
Celine sauntered to the nearest bench and sat with an expectant, albeit hopeful stare.
I found my spot at her side, but kept a safe distance between us as the fountain tickled my ears in the silence.
I waited, waited, and waited some more, until finally I turned to her, my toe tapping. “Are you going to say something or …?”
“I didn’t think this would happen so quickly,” she whispered under her breath.
“What would happen so quickly?”
“Your magical awakening.” Her lashes fluttered.
“Magical awakening?” I breathed deep. “Is that why you’ve been doing all these pointed lessons? Witchcraft? Blessings? For me?”
“Bold of you to assume you’re the only one who could benefit from such topics.”
I blinked, body tense. “You mean … I’m not the only one?”
“Hardly,” Celine scoffed. “There are a few others here. But they haven’t begun to awaken to their calling yet.”
“Do they know? Or am I the only one you’re playing games with?”
“This isn’t a game!” She pinched and prodded at my skin. “Saint Peter’s has a history of safe harbor for artistic witches, yes. Why do you think we ask to see portfolios before enrollment?”
I drew a heavy breath through my nose. “I don’t know, because this is an art institute?”
“Because we’ve been looking for you!” she snapped. “Every witch is artistically inclined, their art imbued with their unique magical signature.”
“Looking for me? So, you lured me here then!” My blood began to boil again.
“What? No! Fate brought you here; I was merely—”
“I don’t believe you!”
“The same way you didn’t believe in magic?” She flicked my hem. “Just because you don’t believe something doesn’t mean it isn’t true, Fey. And your magic is … different. Things have never worked like this before. I—I expected it would appear as it always has …”
My heart clapped in my ears, and I sat up straight, at attention. “And how exactly might that be?”
Her indecisiveness was plain as the freckles on her nose, unmissable. “I tried to tell you before that our situation is fragile. We have to be careful how we go about—”
“I’m not fragile!” I erupted, flames bursting to life below my fingertips.
“All right, all right … breathe. Let’s both just calm down. We don’t want to go burning the school down, now do we?”
I stared at the blaze, another rush of uncertainty washing over me.
The more I panicked, the more the fire grew.
There was no stopping it. It controlled me.
My heartbeat clapped in my ears, heat radiating through my chest, and my tears started their silent trickle down my face. Why couldn’t I control myself?
“Focus, Fey,” Celine said, but didn’t reach for me. “You control your affinities, not the other way around. Close your eyes and will your power into submission.”
I looked her over, chest rising and falling in jerky breaths.
What if this was some sort of trick? What if she was working with Cillian and this was all a means to get me to run back into his arms after his unsuccessful attempt at bonding us together?
Again, the flames grew, this time large enough to engulf me clear up to my elbows.
“Breathe,” she repeated.
Whatever powers she possessed, whoever’s side she was truly on, the imminent reality remained: She was my only option. And so, I listened. I pinched my eyes shut and pushed through the clatter in my mind. Still, the fire burned inside me. “It’s not working!”
“Speak to it. Tell it what you wish it to do and be confident about it. You are in control here!”
“Stop,” I said against my chest.
“Louder.”
I cleared my throat. “Stop.”
“With authority!”
“Stop!” I screamed. A cool breeze pricked my skin and I scanned my arms—the fires had extinguished.
A shallow, seemingly impressed chuckle slipped through her lips. “Well done.”
“How … how is this possible? How can I control fire?” The last two words knotted in my throat, but the stress lingering in my muscles didn’t overtake me.
Instead, light did. It danced along my chest, swirled in beautiful displays, and came to rest in my center like a pocket of amber firelight.
It tightened itself into a ball, gentle enough to be a comfort as if my magic were hugging me, consoling me.
“Brilliant,” Celine whispered and leaned forward. “Your Tinctured magic has emerged too. That’s—well, that’s never happened before.”
Fingers pinched to her chin, she ran to the hidden cabinet behind the willows and returned with a cloth-bound, tattered book. She ruffled about the pages, forward and backward.
“What’s that?”
“Your grimoire. Well, Aislyn’s grimoire anyway.”
Aislyn: my life in Ireland. My time spent with Leeran that first life flooded over me. The twins, the love, the flower-filled meadow. “How do you know about all this?”
“Oh, my dear, I’ve known you since the beginning.”
The words rattled me. Leeran … he’d said the exact same thing, and yet he’d made no mention of Celine. It didn’t add up. If they’d both known me from the start, then they had to know about each other. I made a mental note to question him about it as soon as I saw him next.
She stamped her finger against the page. “Ah, here we are! Convergence spell.”
Again, she fluttered through the willows, this time to retrieve what appeared to be a bundle of weeds off one of the corner desks.
“Sage,” she answered my silent inquiry. “It is quite uncommon for a witch to possess an affinity for more than one type of magic. You, my dear, are already showing the promise of two.”
“All right … so … what does that mean exactly?”
“It means your aura is divided. I’m no Tinctured witch, but I like to think I’m one hell of a teacher.” She winked. “Here, this way.”
She directed me to a pull-out desk adjacent the solarium windows—its corner propped up on a single leg—and rummaged through the drawers until she found her items of choice: a small abalone shell, a match box, and a thin piece of torn metal screen.
Her hand jutted toward me, palm up. “Hand me your talisman.”
My fingers latched around my moonstone. “Why?”
Her face softened. “Don’t worry, Fey, I’m not your enemy.
I’m here to help. A talisman is only as strong as its connection to its inherent affinity.
This will make sure that your powers stay in check, i.e.
, no more burning desks in the middle of class.
A convergence spell will strengthen the crystal’s metaphysical properties, therefore strengthening your bond to your magics. ”
“Which are Elemental and …?”
“Tinctured, also known as energetic magic. Elemental is to nature as Tinctured is to spirit.”
That’s why the light comforted me, why it made its home in my chest, and why it sought to soothe my spirit. A Tinctured light beam giggled inside me, and a laugh of my own rose to meet it.
“Fun, isn’t it?” Celine asked with a grin, “The way magic has a life of its own. You’ll grow alongside it as you start to understand your gifts more. But for now, let’s make sure your affinities don’t grow jealous of one another. Yes?”
She held her hand out once more. My light nudged my hand forward, encouraging me. This time, I didn’t hesitate and dropped the moonstone pendant into her palm.
“I remember the day you got this.” Her gaze slipped off into a distant memory, the edge of her lips twisting upward. “Cillian was so excited I thought he might burst into flames.”
My breath caught. “Cillian got that for me? Like … before this life?”
“Yes, he most certainly did. You’d had your eye on it for some time, visited the jeweler’s booth at market each chance you could, but he hadn’t the money to get it for you, and of course you’d never ask for such frivolous things as you called them.
You assured him you were content with your tourmaline pendant, though we both knew it wasn’t the best fit for your affinity.
So, he saved and saved until he could afford to get it for you.
He’s carried it with him ever since, waiting for your Tinctured magic to reemerge.
” She smiled. “He says the glimmer in it reminds him of your spark.”
I felt the color drain from my face. That story, it … it didn’t sound too far removed from the one Leeran had told me about Fagan and the bloodstone.
“Was that before or after he placed a bonding spell on me?” I bit out.
“Bonding spell?” Her brow creased. “What are you—”
“I know you know what he did. That he couldn’t have me so he cursed me to fall for him. How crazy does somebody have to be to force someone into loving them?”
Her shoulders pushed back, eyes and tone stern as she said, “Whoever wove that lie into your head does not have your best intentions in mind! Not only would Cillian never do anything against your wishes, but bonding spells are born of dark magic. Death magic. No Elemental or Tinctured witch would dare risk a spell as dark as that. Baneful magic belongs to a world very unlike our own. A realm where beasts and misguided witches thrive, where the Old Gods—”
“The Shroud. Yeah, I know.”
Her lips thinned. “Where are you learning these things, Fey?”
“Does it matter?”
“It most certainly does! These are dangerous lies we’re talking about here. Lies that could keep you from realizing your true potential.”
“If that’s the case, then why don’t you tell me the truth? Why hide it from me? I can handle it.”
“You have to know I want to, but Margaret, Yelena … what they went through, the mental breaks you succumbed to in those lives … that is the price you pay in rushing your self-discovery. You must learn the answers slowly if you are to awaken to your true strength with your mind and soul intact. Neither Cillian nor I would ever risk your safety. Regardless of how much we want you to remember us.” She brushed a hand against my cheek. “Foighne, Fey.”
I swallowed hard, the words reflecting in a distant, blurry memory. I looked her over. Foighne, Gaelic for—“… Patience …”
“Precisely,” she said with a warm smile and waved her hand around the room. “And fhírinne?”
Truth … “It means truth.”
She nodded, a gleam in her eye. “That it does. And you, my dear, are well on your way to discovering just that. But be wary. We are not the only ones set on this same path, and some would do anything to keep you from discovering your true self. Some would rather see the world reduced to ash.”