Chapter 5 #2
Her mother crossed her legs beside her, and Sera could feel her trying to claw into her mind. She ignored the rattling in her chest and worked to reinforce that wall. This was a test, and she wouldn’t fail this time.
A tall witch with rosy cheeks and strawberry gold hair walked forward and took her place before the Council members. An almost perfect replica of the witch stood beside her, showcasing an ideal example of echo projection. Impressive, truly. Even her mother clapped at that.
“Daedeth, arcana,” Chair Thorne proclaimed.
Anyone would be lucky to go into arcana. It was the most versatile occupation. Studying the way of magic, teaching novices, and creating new spells. They even oversaw the healers and practiced alchemy. Nora belonged there.
Another warlock, red haired and pale skinned, with an outrageous number of freckles across his attractive nose and cheeks, approached the center of the Menage. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands hung limp at his sides.
An ache formed in Sera’s throat. She knew with every fiber of her being what it felt like to be out there, with the scrutiny of your classes, loved ones, and the Council bearing down on you, knowing that no matter what form you displayed, you’d never make it out of Jedan.
Sera had wanted to be placed in the mastria occupation since she was a witchling. She had prayed to Shadow and dressed in only black for years. As if that alone would have guaranteed her place.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at her idiocy. Her mother had known it would never happen. Still, Sera had wished that it could have been the bridge between them.
The novice looked like she felt. Defeated.
He took a broad stance, his hands reaching forward with palms facing the ground.
The novice closed his eyes, whispered his spell, and shot green bolts into the dirt.
Several large pine trees erupted from the ground, climbing rapidly skyward.
The rich pine scent wove its way through the crowd, and Sera inhaled, reveling in the smell of the winter solstice.
Esoti in Jedan. That’s where he’d be placed. Anyone with the power to grow plants landed there.
“Legion,” Blackwell yelled.
A hush fell over the crowd.
“What do you mean?” The novice asked, taking a step toward Blackwell. “A Legion warrior? I should be in esoti.” His hands were clenched, and clumps of grass sprouted from under his feet, crawling along the Menage’s dirt floor.
Sera bounced her knee and rubbed her palms together. Every beat of her heart echoed in her ears, and the cage rattled hard against her ribs.
“Warlock Stoll, you will not question our decision. You will still be with the rest of the esoti, but you are needed with the Legion.” Blackwell motioned to the exit. “Now, please step aside for the next novice.”
Stoll didn’t move. The green sod grew wider. If he stood there much longer, the entire arena floor would be a meadow.
“Novice Stoll”—Thorne’s voice was soft—“your magic is needed to help feed our warriors. Your power is imperative to the war effort and the livelihood of our kind. It is a great honor to care for those who protect us. Do you agree?”
The grass at Stoll’s feet retreated. He nodded and then knelt before the Council members. “Yes, Chairs, please forgive me for my outburst.”
The next novice was placed in Dobro, but the following two went to Legion. Sera whispered to her mother, “More novices are being ordered to the Legion this year than I expected. Are our ranks so depleted that we need so many? We aren’t even in conflict.”
“Who cares about the appearance of the Citadel grounds if our world is extinct?” Her mother’s amber eyes bore into her. “Survival is imperative.”
Sera tightened the barrier around her mind and sat straighter as Nora took her place in the center of the arena. She looked like one of the statues of the founding witches: standing tall, shoulders back. She bowed to the chairs.
Her sister would do well, but still, there was a nagging ache in Sera’s gut. A burning heat. A rattling lock. Sera clasped her hands together to stop the shaking while Nora prepared her portal.
Nora had practiced for months, and Sera knew firsthand the amount of power she held.
She still had the scar from when they were children.
Sera had given her sister a little zap in jest, nothing more than a harmless spark.
Nora, unfortunately, didn’t have control yet and left a raised burn on Sera’s thumb.
The healers had offered to remove the scar for her, but Sera decided to keep it.
Despite her heart pounding in her ears, Sera smirked. No, Nora wasn’t going to fail, and Sera was going to clear that notice board tomorrow. Fill every order for the Jedan members in need. It’d be like winter solstice in spring.
A circle of blue light flickered in the middle of the arena and expanded evenly in all directions. The light bent and shifted with perfect control.
Oohs and aahs swept through the crowd, and Lavinia smiled. Nora’s portal warped and ceased its horizontal movement, then raised itself to create a perfectly arched doorframe.
Even the frame Nora had created around the portal was stunning. It looked to have roses and birds carved from magic. That alone would have gotten her into Daedeth.
Sera swallowed.
As each figure formed around the portal’s frame, Sera’s core grew hot.
She tore at her wrist to make it stop. Her darkness thrashed and beat against her skin, over and over.
Sera closed her eyes and swallowed the nausea.
If she lost control now, it would be the worst possible moment.
So many spectators, and two chairs to witness her abominable secret.
She took a deep breath through her nose and out through her mouth. When her mother wrapped her hand around Sera’s limp palm, cracking her knuckles from the pressure, Sera’s eyes snapped open. A cold terror lined every one of Lavinia’s features.
Sera glanced down and swallowed her gasp. A thick, bubbling fog, black as night, circled around their hands. It moved and thrashed. A steady stream trickled down the stone stairs, slithering toward the Menage center. Toward Nora.
No. No. NO.
The magic seeped from the cage she’d built around that never-ending well.
Sera watched frozen as her darkness slunk to the Menage floor.
Something was calling to it, pulling like a magnetic force straight for her sister’s portal.
She tried to pull it back, gritting her teeth, and yanked with all her might.
Held on to that burning through her skin so she could lock the door and throw away the key.
Closing her eyes, Sera tried to focus, but her mother let out a cry.
“Mama, let go.”
Lavinia shook her head. Sera watched in horror as her darkness stripped the ebony of her mother’s skin. The tops of Lavinia’s long, elegant fingers were now blistered white, and the darkness, her darkness, was ripping away the pigment.
Sera shoved against the foreign well of magic. “Please,” she whispered, “Shadow, make it stop.”
Screams broke out through the crowd. She was done for. They’d lock her in the tower, or worse, kill her.
When Sera glanced up, she expected to see Chair Blackwell before her, ready with a set of manacles or a sword pointed at her throat. Instead, every witch and warlock in the crowd was staring at Nora and the portal beside her.
Sera’s dark magic had curled its way around the frame, morphing the roses and beautiful birds, which had seemed carved of light, into monstrous creatures. Skulls, beasts with horns and sharpened fangs. The blue of Nora’s archway was now wholly black.
There was no office.
No Uncle Artemis, no study with a life-size portrait.
A tall figure materialized and sauntered onto the arena floor.
Shadow. It was so much worse.