“Eight,” Fallon answers. “In the garden.”
“I’ll see you at eight.” She walks out the door. “Oh, and Astor, I like your shirt.”
Astor flashes a pained smile, then turns to us.
“Completely worth it,” I say, glancing at the others, who chuckle in agreement.
7
FALLON
Nature is at her best in the early morning. The light breaks from night to dawn, clear and bright, waking the world to a new day. The air is slightly chilled, but clean and crisp, untainted by the traffic of people and automobiles. In silence, she breathes, waiting for the rest of the world to join her.
I watch the sunrise while I sip my coffee in the garden, the solitude a welcome and rare respite from the pressures of my father and the duties of being a prince. Sometimes, I wish my father had another child for his unrelenting, often bitter, focus.
My thoughts drift from unpleasant to pleasant. Arden’s certainly made a noticeable impact on the cadre. Adrift for a while, we’d needed a reminder of our purpose—to lend support and power to those standing alone or facing unreasonable odds. It was the whole reason we’d formed the cadre in the first place, and she gave it to us, not only in the form of a quest, but as a way to help someone with integrity, a rare trait. We’d been mired in our own separate lives for too long. Even if Arden had been a man, the impact to us would have been at the same level, albeit different, in bonds and friendship of a different sort. As a woman, she brings something extra and unique to each of us, and I wait with bated breath in anticipation of what she will be to me.
The doors swish open, and I glance at my watch, surprised to see it’s eight o’clock. Standing, I stretch and meet her in the middle of the garden.
“Good morning, Arden,” I greet her. She’s dressed in her workout gear, but instead of her usual anticipation, she seems nervous.
Straightening her shoulders, she returns my greeting. “Good morning, Fallon. I assume we’re going to test for Elven powers?”
“Yes. While there are a lot of races, most of them have derived from one of the main supernatural races—Elven, Fae, demon, dragon, angel, or shifter. Even vampires are created from demon and witch or human pairings, although Daire received a little something from Lucifer in his mix, given his father is also a fallen angel,” I explain. “For you, we’ve ruled out demon, dragon, and Fae. Dragons are only born to dragon mothers, and while there might be the tiniest chance you’re Fae, we think Theron would have recognized you. So we’ll test for Elven power for a few days and move on to either angel, like a nephilim, or shifter if you’re not Elven. Okay?”
She shifts restlessly on her feet and takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Settling into a cross-legged position on the ground, I motion for her to join me. Once she does, I decide to start with the difference between witch magic and Elven magic. “If I tell you to create fire, what do you do?”
She snaps her fingers, and a flame appears. “I pull on the magic in my core and layer it with intent. Fire forms.”
“Elves create magic from the compounds and elements in the Earth itself. For fire, we pull nitrogen, carbon dioxide, water vapor, and oxygen from the air, the plants, and the ground. We create using matter or energy,” I explain. “We feel and use every bit of matter and energy around us, pulling and manipulating it for our purposes. Once done, we return it to the Earth.”
“I’m not sure I understand. My fire is a light, and it burns. I create it and extinguish it. The magic returns to me,” she says, puzzled.
“Fire’s tough, because you’re right—your fire takes on the properties of the elements, and therefore, is also real,” I concede, then an idea pops into my head. “What about clothes? If you create clothes, what happens when your magic is blocked?”
“The clothes disappear, which is why most witches don’t use magic to conjure clothing,” she replies.
I nod in agreement. “Elven magic creates clothes from nature. Silk from a silkworm, cotton from a cotton plant, and so forth. Our clothes are organic, they don’t rely on maintaining a magical link. Once created, they exist until we break them down and return the compounds to the Earth. We can pass them along to others, we can wear and wash them, because they are actual clothes.
“For the most part, Fae, elves, and witches all share similar magic. We can use the elements to create or cast spells, we have the ability to use telekinesis, we all have healers, we glamour or warp reality, and we can morph or change ourselves to some degree. Elves and Fae share a bit more because we’re both tied to nature, and constructing energy with those elements is a common power. The main difference between Fae and elves is the Elven ability to animate. We can use matter and energy to give life to inanimate objects, like your Killian blades. They’re both inanimate objects and sentient. While everyone of Elven descent can animate objects, they can’t maintain or create something permanent. The Killian blades are unique in this aspect. It took a tremendous amount of power to create them and give them life.”
“I heard the story of the Elven blacksmith who created the blades, but thought it was an embellished tale until I held one in my hand. It’s sentient, all right. I can hear it speaking to me,” she shares. “So how do we test my powers if they’re so similar to yours?”
“I’ve never taught Elven magic to anyone, so I’m guessing here,” I warn her. “We’ll go back to the basics to see if you can feel and recognize the basic elements of the Earth first. Then we’ll see if you can use them to create something without pulling on your witch magic.”
I form a large drop of water in the air above my hand. “Let’s see if you can sense specific energy or matter first. Close your eyes,” I instruct, waiting until her eyes are closed before I continue, “Concentrate on the air in front of you. Can you feel the water in the air? A disturbance to the flow or a pinprick of energy? Breathe evenly, in and out. That’s it. When you feel something, reach for it.”
I hold the water in front of her. Her hand doesn’t move, and a frown appears on her brow. She opens her eyes and shakes her head sadly. “I don’t feel anything.”
I close my fist and return the water to the Earth. Thinking back to my childhood, I try to remember someone teaching me the basics, but only the more advanced teachings come to mind. Rolling my shoulders, I admit defeat. “Don’t get discouraged. I’m not sure if I’m starting this off correctly. I’m going to make a few phone calls, and we’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies, her voice full of frustration. “I know Fae have dark and light, but I haven’t noticed much difference between the two. Are there any differences between dark elves and light elves? You’re both, right?”
I still. “I’m both, although I only recognize my light Elven half, and I’m not aware of any differences,” I say, trying to keep my answer brief. I reach toward the tree and pull a piece of wood from the branch above me, using energy to shape and mold it into a staff.
She gives me an inquisitive stare, and I tense. “I know you’re not exclusive to the light because of Daire, Astor, and Theron. What’s wrong with the dark elves?” she asks.
