I am floating.
No, wait. We are floating. Or at least the ground underneath our feet is moving. Tiny pieces of rock and dirt carefully push us to the wall of the cavern. I can feel Atlys smirk against my lips. He must be doing this. My thoughts quickly flit away as my back is pressed into the cold stone wall. Damp vines fall around us, glowing and pulsing to the quickening beat of my blood.
My hands press into the ridged planes of Atlys’s stomach, so hard, like he is made of the stone itself. I tease my finger along the waistline of his pants, eliciting a deep, primal noise. My whole body warms at the sound, sending a shock of different emotions through me at the same time. Pleasure and joy and power and… a deep sense of possessiveness all at once.
What little patience remains disappears as Atlys grabs my hands and places them above my head, pinning my wrists in one hand while the other trails between my breasts, down my stomach, and halts at the top of my pants.
He pauses and looks at me. Waiting.
“Atlys.” My voice is breathless, practically begging.
Any restraint he was holding releases as he kisses me with ravished hunger. I mold to his movements, responding to every touch with a bend of my own. A conversation sparked between two bodies. Despite our differences, we erupt with the energy of two forces drawn together by nothing other than fate. Lightning and responding thunder. The crashing of waves on a rocky shore. The impossible place where dark and light clash together.
Atlys steps away suddenly, shoulders rounded forward as he cups my face. “I have to stop now, or I never will.”
My cheeks begin to bruise under his tight hold before he lets go and pushes me back once more. I stumble a few steps and slip on a rock, tumbling to the rocky ground. I scrape my palm trying to catch myself so I don’t land on my tailbone again.
That evil, ruthless fucking underling!I coil in disgust at the thought of what just happened between us.
Atlys just grins, reveling in my shock and horror. “One day, my Sunrise, we will come together in all the ways I have imagined.” He combs a hand through his white hair. “And I’ll let you know that I have averycreative imagination.” Then he turns and disappears into the stone wall, leaving me alone for the rest of the night.
The pile of furs and small fire do nothing to keep away the cold chilling me to my bones as I toss and turn in my makeshift bed. Tomorrow, I’ll return to my room. I don’t know what I was thinking staying here.
I hate him so very much.
29
One is Deadly, Three Will Sting
“Bending light rays to create an optical illusion is no small feat. Sun’chers, I want you all on this half of the room working on yourmyrage,” Professor Gregorio instructs. Every time I enter Elementation, something changes about the professor’s appearance. This morning, he chose to braid his long beard that—to my everlasting delight—bounces as he speaks.
I glance to my side at Ramona, and with one look, we both spend the next few minutes suppressing giggles. I missed sharing a room with Ramona. We always talk late into the night until one of us inevitably falls asleep, share a pot of bean brew, or just take turns sharing stories. Our friendship is like the branches of a willow tree; it bends in heavy winds but never breaks.
“Yes! I’ve been wanting to attempt channeling amyrage!” Leo yells from the front of the classroom, snapping me back to focus.Only a few pink burns on his forehead remain from the fire monkey he faced in the first task.
“Let’s start with something small,” Professor Gregorio continues. “Each of you will have a single flower. I want you to make it look like a bouquet. Moon’chers, you’ll be with Castor working on casting amoonglowcharm on your eyes so you can see in pitch black spaces. This is especially helpful when traveling with your battalions, night raids, and a myriad of other tactical reasons.
“Castor, take the students to the empty classroom conjoining mine. You will have twenty minutes to practice. I expect a ten page paper on the magical potential ofmyrageandmoonglowas it relates to scouting enemy encampments along with a demonstration of your capabilities by next class.”
The class groans at the assignment, but then promptly splits in half to their respective sides to start practicing. I stare at the flower before me and spin the practice ring on my pointer finger. I close my eyes and focus. See the unseen. Hear the notes of magic in the air. I let myself lean outward into the current surrounding me and attempt to grab hold of the golden threads of energy. Carefully, I pluck one of the strings and pull it inward, harnessing the Source as my own. The soft buzzing of magic flows against my consciousness, waiting to be directed.
Now I just have to channel the energy correctly.
Last week, we graduated from having to say the incantations aloud. Now we must internalize the spell, taking in the magic around us through our channeling stones and manipulate that power into our intended purpose.
Myrageis one of the most complicated ways to wield Sun’cher magic. When done correctly, you can completely change your appearance, hide an army in plain sight, or even render yourself invisible. Bending the light effectively can change almost everything we see, but it cannot erase the other senses.
The light purple petals of the lavender taper smaller at the top, the stem cool and soft to the touch. I bring the sprig of lavender to my nose and smell the calming, earthy scent. I close my eyes and picture a handful of lavender in my hands, how the weight would increase, the coloring vary, how the scent would intensify, the shadows and light multiply. I exhale and think “myrage” while simultaneously picturing the full bouquet. I let the magic from my channeling stone uncoil around the flower, shifting and swirling around the stem until the lightest of buzzing stops only a second later.
I open my eyes and look down.
“I did it!” I squeak, genuinely surprised by the large bouquet of lavender in my hands.
“Very good, Akemi!” Gregorio accolades, peering over my shoulder.
Other students giggle at my outburst, but I don’t care because I’m finallydoing something right. I haven’t been the first to master any of the channeling spells before now. Maybe I am good at channeling amyragebecause it’s essentially “pretending”? As a Prentice Teller, pretending and storytelling is a necessary skill, lest I receive another lecture from Marrow for not being historically accurate enough or use the wrong timbre. Or maybe it is because I have an easier time practicing a more mind-based approach? Focusing on the intention of the spells inward rather than the physical incantation.
Leo’s twin sister, Lacerta, cranes her neck to get a better look at my bouquet, distracting my concentration. Themyragebreaks as quickly as it was built, facade crumbling until I’m holding a single flower once more. Almost immediately, I feel my energy dissipate, like it’s swirling down a drain.
