Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Seraphina
It was the perfect late spring day. The sky was a clear blue, the clouds were white and fluffy, and Sera had created a lie so terrible, she was sure her soul would be damned for eternity never to enter the Shadow realm.
The lie she’d told Al was… runny shits.
“We’re going to work with… what did you call it? Death fog?”
Sera rolled her eyes. “Sorry the vernacular wasn’t correct.”
Vasso smiled at the sky before landing his gaze on hers. “Well, what have you accomplished so far with this death fog?”
Their steps crunched as they crossed the meadow to the center of the training circle.
Sera had thought all night about what she was going to ask him.
She wondered how her magic worked within her to begin with, but the worst of it was the voice’s assurance that she’d hurt Al.
She’d never been so close to doing so as when he’d called her a Jedan witch.
There was nothing wrong with Jedan’s members. It seemed the prejudices of the Citadel had followed her even here.
“It kind of just falls out of me. It only takes shape to surround me in a form of protection. It’s… almost sentient.”
The corner of his lip twitched.
She hoped he wouldn’t ask what she was being protected from. She didn’t want to have to admit that she’d been curled in a ball, having a nervous breakdown. He didn’t need those details.
Vasso released some of his mist, and Sera instantly heated. Her darkness thrashed inside her, ready to play.
“You can manipulate it as you would your arm.” His magic took shape, snaking forward, forming a claw, and delicately picking up a strand of her hair. “Think of it as an extension of yourself. It’s connected to you, but if it’s broken, you will lose your ability to manipulate it.”
“How would it break?”
“Run your hand through it,” Vasso quipped.
There was a lightness about him today. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly.
Maybe it was the smooth way he held himself, or the slight sparkle in his eye.
Regardless, she’d rather have this Vasso around than the one she’d dealt with yesterday.
She swiped at the claw, and it dissipated. “That doesn’t seem very useful, if anyone can break the connection.”
“No?” he asked with a smirk.
Something flicked her ear. Sera swatted the shadowy mist away, but just as one tendril disappeared, another flicked her other ear.
“Hey!” A prodding at her cheek had her swiping again, only to be jabbed in the ribs. Sera waved her arms around her body when her feet were swept out from under her and she was hauled upward. Her face was even with his, and she couldn’t look away from his amusement.
And that laugh—it was like sunlight, like air.
“Are you going to let me down?” Her voice was nasally from hanging.
“Let yourself down.” His eyes danced all over her. She must look ridiculous hanging there, at least six feet off the ground.
Sera reached for her magic, which happily obliged, unfortunately not in a helpful way. Surrounded by a curtain of black fog, she could barely hear Vasso’s snickering above the hum of it. The fog just kept falling, and deep in her mind, her darkness laughed too.
Sera’s cheeks were heavy with a rush of blood, so she bent up and swatted her ankle. Her finger had barely brushed Vasso’s magic when she realized her error and fell.
“Whoa,” Vasso blurted out before she landed directly in his arms. She could feel his heart pounding. The smell of fresh air and his scent filled her lungs with each inhale. Sera couldn’t stop the heat blooming across her cheeks. Nor could she look away.
Vasso raised a brow and grinned wider at her. “My my. If I’d known it was this easy to get you to fall into my arms, I would have strung you up outside Crowpass.”
Sera slapped his chest, and Vasso only seemed more pleased with himself. “Let me down, you fool.” He lowered her feet to the ground, and she made quick work of putting some distance between them.
“Okay, teach me.”
He squinted at her, but his smile was playful. Vasso crossed his arms. “It’s not easy. Could take you years to develop.”
“Believe it or not, Lord Vasso, but I’m a very quick learner, and as much as I’m sure you’d love to teach me for decades, I don’t have time.”
Vasso’s smile dropped. “Well, let’s not keep you waiting, then. Let it flow.”
Sera released her power. It crept from her feet, surrounding the entire training circle with mist and shadow. Her stomach lurched at the sight. It looked exactly the same as when it manifested before, only instead of a field, it had been homes, then flames.
“Well, you’ve got good reach. Start with something small. Visualize a tendril. It can be as thin as a lock of hair.”
Envisioning the natural curl of her hair, she imagined a wisp of mist reaching out in a coil. Tiny tendrils began to rise from below, only to be reabsorbed into the brume below it.
She concentrated again, and again. Vasso stood still in the knee-high fog, his arms crossed but silent. Sera held out her hand.
Vasso hadn’t needed his hands to manipulate the magic, nor words…
But Vasso isn’t a witch, her magic called back.
“Vatera,” Sera whispered. With the turn of her hand, the darkness took shape, reaching up to her palm. She had no idea why that word slipped naturally from her tongue.
“Good. Now try and move it.”
Curving her fingers into claws, she visualized the mass as it moved. Microsensations racked her body; blades of grass scratched under her palms. She felt the wind, even the leather of her and Vasso’s boots.
“You can feel what it touches?”
Vasso nodded. “I’m going to assume that you were probably petrified and didn’t notice. It’s an extension of you.” A wisp rose out of the mass, caressing her cheek. Her darkness climbed his in a dizzying spiral that set her stomach fluttering.
Sera curled her finger and pointed at him. He didn’t flinch when the dark tendril slammed into his cheek. A whisper of warmth glided along the pads of her fingertips. She could feel the smooth skin up the line of his jaw, over his cheek and temple. Lastly, she raked her magic through his hair.
Mesmerized by the sensations, Sera took a moment to notice the rakish grin plastered across Vasso’s face. An electrical current aimed straight for her core had her sucking in breath when he waved her magic away.
“I want to try something,” he said.
Sera took a step back. “We aren’t going to kill something again, are we?”
“You don’t trust me, Subdina?”
“No.”
Vasso gave her an exaggerated sigh. “Hold it in front of you.”
Sera huffed. “Vatera,” she said and pulled her darkness into a pillar of blackened smoke.
“Keep it there,” he said, and released his own.
It changed from something opaque and foggy to a pillar of solid night.
It turned and twirled until it was something she could identify—a trunk, then branches, and lastly buds of leaves.
Each individual leaf had such perfect likeness that she could recognize each ridge and vein.
Pulling deep from her well, she fed his creation, urging him on. “Keep going,” she whispered. The smoky tree soared, mimicking the ironoak trees surrounding them. With each passing second, the canopy grew thicker, blocking out the sun except for speckled rays of light twinkling around her.
Another surge, and she took a deep breath against the buzzing of her skin, relishing the warmth radiating through her. This was what euphoria felt like. This was… living.
Vasso circled their creation, his grin lighting up every inch of his face as the branches and leaves formed—hundreds of years of growth in the matter of minutes.
Sera dared to glance at him again, watching him squint in concentration, and below that straight, regal nose, his lips pulled to the side as he focused.
“Look,” he said and pointed up.
Black buds covered the branches. One by one, they unfurled into blossoms grouped into clusters of dark inflorescence. A mighty tree made of mist, fog—shadow.
Sera didn’t realize she’d stopped feeding Vasso her magic, and one by one, the blossoms rained around them. Her heart pounded in her ears—they were smoky gray, the color of his eyes. Ash. Darkness.
Her head was fuzzy. Too much magic, she thought. Or was it the natural pull she had to him?
Vasso regarded her as well; amusement danced across his features, melting into curiosity. As the blossoms and petals showered around them, each touch was a tap in her palm.
“I’ve never done that before,” he said quietly.
“Made a tree?”
He shook his head. “Mixed magic, or at least made something with it.” His voice dropped. “I didn’t know it was possible.”
Sera smiled. For so long, she’d wished to be accepted. Not to be the poor sister whose mother had to get her out of Jedan. The one who needed to use her brain instead of her power to navigate the world.
But this had been beautiful. Not destruction. Not death disguised as a mercy. It was life.
The layers of darkness were gone. He took a step toward her, so close she could touch him. Something snapped tight within her, right in the center of her chest. She gasped, holding her finger there, and on his face was a silent question. What was it about him?
She was a fool. A fool who, for a moment, didn’t feel alone or defective. Who’d watched a man make something beautiful out of a power she’d only ever feared. It was a contradiction.
He was a contradiction.
Sera took a step back, but Vasso reached for her.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled a piece of dried grass from her hair.
“Oh.” She let out a breath.
“Relax, Subdina.”
“What does Subdina mean?” The word was awkward on her tongue. In her years of studies, she’d only read portions of the old language. Asking Al would be the next logical thing, but something told her she wanted to hear it from Vasso’s lips.
Vasso placed his hands in his pockets, his dark brows pinched together as if he was deciding whether he should tell her. Instead, he smirked and said, “I’ll tell you one day.” Then he turned toward the manor.
Sera followed him.
His shoulders swayed with each step. An effortless swagger that he probably didn’t even realize he had, but with each run of a hand through his hair… What wasn’t he telling her? Vasso walked into the dark cave tunnel.
More. She needed to train more, but knew better to demand it this time.
Her darkness’s laugh echoed through her head.
Back in the tunnel, waiting for her eyes to adjust, she could sense him mere inches away.
His magic flowed off him and over her like an exhale, and she couldn’t deny that she craved the feel of it mixing with hers, along with the lingering smell of him that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
A clench in her chest made her heart beat faster.
She wanted to touch him, get that sensation back.
The blooming in her chest, the unfurling of leaves…
Slowly, his face became clear. She wondered if the cut of his jaw would feel the same under her fingertips as it had felt under her magic. Sera raised her hand.
“Don’t.” His breath shuddered. His dark brows were pinched tight in confusion… or was it horror?
“But…”
“Please,” he begged and left her in the dark.