35. Chapter 35 #3
There was a yank on her shoulder, but before she could shrug it off, a harder gravitational pull wrenched her away from her core, and she startled into awareness. Augrys sat in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders, sweat perspiring on his forehead as his lips curled down in disapproval.
“You went too far—”
“I did it,” she announced, unable to help the grin that bloomed on her face.
Surprise flickered across his face, smoothing his furrowed eyebrows as understanding dawned on him. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, his eyes lighting up. Yareli’s recklessness was all but forgotten in the midst of the news.
Yareli raised her hand to her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart and marveling at the undercurrents of power that now flowed through her.
Her smile widened. Unsurprisingly, she was chilled to the bone after pushing her limits, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her blankets.
But she wanted visual confirmation of her success.
She glanced at Augrys, apologizing to him before she dove back to her core.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she certainly hadn’t expected to see the steel wall still standing.
“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet.
“What do you see?”
Jagged edges of a yawning fissure marred the otherwise smooth wall.
A biting wind whooshed past her, raising goose bumps along her arms. Magic ran along her skin, settling in her bones.
A crisp scent lingered, reminding her of the moment right after snow fell when it was pure and untouched, its quiet solitude, the world muted in its white blanket.
And just like on those days, when speaking felt blasphemous against nature’s silent reprieve, she whispered her next words.
“Are partial breaks common?”
Augrys placed another blanket on Yareli’s shoulders before he sat at the foot of her bed.
After the discovery of her cracked—not broken—core, she had collapsed onto the floor, her body finally demanding payment for her earlier strenuous demands.
He had helped her to bed, casting a warming spell that stopped her shivering.
“It’s,” he said, looking as if he was testing the words in his mouth before he spoke them aloud, “not unheard of.”
“So, it’s unusual,” Yareli stated, surprised at how tired she sounded.
Her mind was still reeling, and now that she had a few minutes to recuperate in bed, she felt almost normal.
Almost. Because she could still feel the wisps of magic in her blood, pulsing in beat with her heart.
It twisted and curled, begging to be released, and she wondered if magic was sentient.
When she asked Augrys, he shook his head.
“Magic isn’t sentient. It manifests based on its user’s subconscious, molding itself to fit what the user desires. In your case…”
Yareli wanted it, craved its power so desperately that it mirrored that desire.
In a small part of her consciousness, she recognized that the reason it acted sentient was that she wanted it to.
Alongside her desire for power, she wanted to be special—to have been chosen to wield it.
She didn’t know why she needed that sort of validation, but it made her stomach roil.
There was still the conundrum at hand—she had only cracked her core, enough to let some magic escape it, but not all.
“How unusual is it? Will it be a problem?”
Augrys sat with his back straight, his hands resting in his lap. He held himself with the composure of the First General of the Water Court, and it occurred to Yareli that perhaps there was more than one wall that she had failed to tear down.
“It’s not ideal.” He rubbed his chin. “You run the risk of taxing your body attempting to cast spells requiring power you do not have yet.” He rushed to continue his explanation when her shoulders slumped.
“It’s not all bad. You can now cast a simple shield on your life force that won't drain your magic. It would only be a problem if you were forced to engage in a prolonged defense against a powerful Fae.”
Yareli didn’t voice out loud that Tuom was exactly that—powerful. She also didn’t mention that it was likely futile because he had already chained her to him.
“That sounds like I can start learning the basics,” she ventured, her earlier joy all but subdued in light of everything, but she didn’t want to waste the limited opportunity. Augrys had been increasingly busy these days—juggling the Keepers, the Water Court military, and her.
He nodded, and excitement flickered in her.
“I have some matters to attend to, but I’ll have Leo and Erick stop by later to help you with the basics in case you need it tomorrow.”
Her eyelids had become heavy at some point during their conversation, and she yawned. “Partial or not, I still opened it within weeks, huh?”
Augrys walked to the door. “I always knew you would.”
She settled onto her side, yawning again and murmuring, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For believing in me.”
When her insecurity, powerlessness, naivety, and otherness constantly undermined her confidence, it meant a lot to have someone who always believed in her. A nice change to her inner monologue with its incessant attacks. If only she could bring herself to trust him completely again.