Then, the flames shift, spilling across the floor and blossoming into a shimmering vision that engulfs me. The walls of the villa melt away, replaced by trees and fields full of wildflowers. I turn and find water glinting like diamonds in the dappled sunlight. Children laugh and splash each other.
I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth as the vision solidifies into a memory I’ve not seen in over a decade. Asha and I, young and carefree, playing in the stream near the Bakva fortress. My sister laughs as she darts ahead of me, her legs kicking up flecks of water that make me squeal.
“Wait for me, Ash,” I call after her.
I scramble over rocks and exposed roots, my lungs burning, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is catching up to Asha.
Finally, I tackle her, and we collapse in a tangle of scrawny limbs among the reeds. Asha grins and flicks water into my face.
Peals of laughter burst from my lips as I rush to my feet and chase after Asha once more. The sun warms my back as I leap from stone to stone.
Asha is always one step ahead, her laughter floating back to me on the breeze. My lungs burn as I push my little legs faster. I’m not about to let my sister beat me.
With a final burst of effort, I launch myself forward and tackle Asha from behind, sending us both tumbling into the tall grass. I pin her down, crowing triumphantly, only for her to flip me over and send us rolling down the bank in a blur of flailing limbs and delighted squeals.
We collapse against a mossy log, chests heaving, faces flushed and split into wide grins. Asha’s eyes dance with mischief as she flicks a piece of grass at me. I wrinkle my nose and return fire, igniting a grass war that ends in breathless laughter.
But the moment doesn’t last long enough before the world of my childhood retreats. My chest rises and falls with each breath as a bittersweet yearning tugs at my heart like the pull of an unseen moon.
Jasce steps closer, his presence anchoring me here, in this room, far from the stream.
I scrub my fingers across my surcoat and shake my head. “How did you do that?”
“Magic,” he says simply, as if I’m supposed to know he can do this too.
“How?”
“It’s called a memory candle.”
“I didn’t know that crimson magic could be so beautiful,” I say truthfully.
I have always been taught that it’s destructive, and it destroys, but the candle proves otherwise.
“It was so...” I trail off as I search for the right word. “…real.” My brow furrows as a thought strikes me. “But...how? How did you pull that memory from my mind?”
The candle’s soft light skims Jasce’s strong features as he shrugs. “I didn’t. The candle draws on happy memories and shares them. It must have known how important that one is to you.”
I swallow, knowing I had forgotten about that morning with Asha. It was overshadowed by what happened later. Returning and finding our father gone, and our mother weeping.
Everything changed after that. Grandfather changed and grew harder. Our mother withdrew into herself and forgot about us.
I push aside those memories and focus on Jasce. “So, you didn’t choose that memory?”
He shakes his head. “No. The candle has a will of its own. I simply use my magic to ignite it.”
“Will you show me more of your magic?” I ask after a moment.
“Yes, but we need to leave the villa and go to an open space.” He turns toward the door, and I grab my veil, place it over my face, and follow him into the corridor.
We walk in silence through the torchlight halls, past high arched windows, and frescoes splashed across the walls.
Jasce takes my hand the moment we reach the front door of the villa. A guard opens it for us, and we step outside. The rain eased to a fine mist, and the clouds hang low, shrouding the world in a gray veil.
“Where are you taking me?” I glance around the misty gardens. The rain has left everything glistening, as if the world has been reborn.
“To the stables.”
Jasce’s hand tightens around mine as he guides me toward a narrower path. It winds away from the sprawling villa, leading us deeper into the grounds. Ahead, I can make out a smaller building, its roof peaked, and its walls made of sturdy stone. The scent of hay and horses drifts on the breeze, growing stronger with each step we take.
