As I gaze up at the sky, a thought hits me. Maybe there’s another way. A way I have yet to consider. If I suppress my Bloodstone magic, I may strengthen my Kyanite magic. It might even return.
Please let it be true.
Please.
There’s only one woman who can help me.
Mildred.
I rejected her help once. I cannot reject her again.
Without another thought, I hurry from the palace. As the bustling sounds of the marketplace fade away, the city’s towering stone walls loom above me. The sun casts a golden glow on everything it touches, making the walls shimmer as if they are made of pure gold. It’s not just the buildings that are beautiful. The people of Karra are a diverse and vibrant bunch. Even the beggars are clad in tattered, but colorful rags.
As I continue walking, the city’s architecture changes, from the grandiose buildings of the nobles, to the cozy cottages of the middle-class, and finally to the modest brick huts of the poor. Each type of abode has a unique charm.
When I reach Mildred’s cottage with its thatched roof, I shake my head, wondering why she chose to live here instead of at the palace.
Two massive crows land on the roof and caw loudly as I knock on the front door.
“Shoo.” I wave my hands at them.
They caw again and fly away.
I shake my head and knock again. She opens it after my fourth knock and ushers me inside. The hem of her white surcoat brushes the wooden floor as she guides me to a table and motions for me to sit.
“Annaleigh said you would come,” Mildred says with a wide grin. “I didn’t believe it. But I should have known. She always speaks of you so fondly.”
Who’s Annaleigh? The old woman always mentions her, but I have yet to discover who Annaleigh actually is.
Shelves line the walls, each filled to the brim with glass bottles. Bunches of herbs hang down from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze. A wicker basket in the corner contains a collection of fabric.
As I settle at the table, Mildred pours me a goblet of rich, fragrant tea. It warms my chilled fingers.
Mildred’s piercing gaze meets mine as she lays her bony fingers on the worn table.
I say the words before I lose the nerve. “I want you to help me suppress my Bloodstone magic.”
Surprise sparks in Mildred’s eyes. “Why would you want such a thing?”
“I have no desire to cast Bloodstone magic.” It’s an honest answer. Hopefully, she will not condemn me for it.
The woman tsks beneath her breath and shakes her head. “Many come to me and beg for my help. They never ask me to suppress the gifts the gods have given them.”
I hold out my right arm, roll over my wrist, and display my hissing serpent mark. “I never asked for this. Never wanted it. I want you to help me curb it, so I don’t hurt anyone else.”
Mildred tsks again.
“Please.”
She pulls three red marbles from the bag tied to her waist and passes them from hand to hand, her expression pensive, as she seems to consider my words. “There is no suppressing it. Your Bloodstone magic is interwoven into the fabric of who you are, just like breathing.”
Should I rip out my lungs, then?
Is that what the gods want from me?
I stand and raise a shaky fist to my stomach. “So, you cannot help me?” Pain echoes in my question. So much pain. I cannot disguise it. Not when it drums with the beat of my heart.
“Annaleigh and I will help you strengthen your gifts. We cannot help you get rid of them.”
