Mildred’s bright green eyes meet mine, sear through me, rip apart all my secrets. At least, it seems like she can do all those things.
I keep my back straight, refusing to cower under the weight of her stare.
“You interest us, Sol,” she says, her voice soft.
Us?
“What do you mean?” I ask in an even tone.
“You cast both Kyanite and Bloodstone magic.” Mildred runs her fingers against the long scratches on her table. “In my seventy-five summers, I have never met anyone like you.”
Frustration gnaws at my chest.
Why, why, why?
Why did the gods do this to me?
“I didn’t ask for it.”
She stands and moves to her shelves full of jars. “Do you know what I am?”
“I don’t,” I answer honestly.
She selects a skinny jar and turns with it clutched in her bony hands. “I am a Bloodstone Muchrah. I teach the Bloodstone people how to use magic.”
A Muchrah?
She’s a Muchrah?
I should have known that is why Hector brought her along.
A giant lump forms in my throat as I open my mouth to speak, but I find no words. She’s here to help her people once they reach the cave of reflection and receive their magic.
She raises the glass jar so I can get a better look at it. “This is a relic full of ancient Bloodstone magic. People like me placed spells in jars like these, protecting them from the gods and their wrath. I have been safeguarding them. Preserving them.” She pauses, then adds, “I was beginning to think their power would die when I do. But now, I know that isn’t true.”
Words claw at my tongue, words I long to say to Hector for bringing me here. He knows how I feel about Bloodstone magic.
“Annaleigh and I want to thank you.” The wrinkles near Mildred’s mouth deepen as she smiles. “You will give our people a second chance.”
Annaleigh?
“I want to start by helping you understand your magic.”
“No,” I say, my reply immediate. There’s nothing in me willing to explore their dark magic.
I reach for my Kyanite necklace through the fabric of my surcoat, clinging to the metal, to the part of myself I want to explore deeper. Not this. Not Bloodstone magic.
Mildred is not fazed by my response. She keeps talking. “If you don’t understand Bloodstone magic and how to use it properly, it will destroy you.” Even though her tone is even, her words slice through me.
Frustration guides me as I yank my necklace from my bodice and show it to her. “I am a healer. I have light magic. Not dark. You can take your Bloodstone magic and all these relics and shatter them.” Anger emanates from me, infecting my tone, my hands. They shake before I link them together, stopping their trembling.
A half smile touches her mouth as she turns and places her jar back on the shelf. “Don’t think of shattering these. The spells inside are powerful. Capable of shifting the world as we know it. And they won’t shatter for just anyone.”
Of course not. Why would the gods allow me to destroy something so vile?
They wouldn’t. They merely toy with me. I am the orchestra they conduct in their cruel schemes.
Hector doesn’t speak as he leads me away from Mildred. The longer he’s silent, the more my frustration with him grows.
