I think of Ten, who doesn’t seem to be afflicted with any weaknesses. But then, isn’t that the problem? There are trends and commonalities, but every single Guard’s ability is different, subtly so, but still different. More so than Elemental, Natural, or Warrior.
At least there are pages and pages of text to tell me that.
“Ever?” Aurelia calls after dismissing the class for lunch. I mask my features and pretend not to still be pissed off at her for shutting me down earlier.
“I’ll have you remember what I am, Ever.” I look blankly at her. “I belong to the Guard Order. I may have passed my powers as an Advocate, but that does not stop me from reading every emotion you experience.” My eyes flick down to my hands, which are now clenched at my sides. “I believe the best person to answer your questions is the Maker.”
“You said that it’s unusual to know more than one or two Fifths in your lifetime. Have you known Fifths before?” If her long silver hair didn’t age her, the worn lines on her brow and framing her eyes did. She has wisdom, knowledge, and answers. That’s what I see when I look at her.
“I have known others, yes. But they are both dead now. To our knowledge, you are the only living Fifth.” She confirms what Micah already told me.
Questions hurtle into my mind, and the need to grasp and cling to that sliver of information is like a physical pain in my chest. My feet inch forward, but Aurelia mirrors my movement and pulls back. It halts me, and something in my blood chills.Is she afraid of me?
“Go and see the Maker.” She turns and walks back towards her desk.
At lunch, my stomach churns with both frustration and anticipation, both from what Aurelia said and that this afternoon will mean more practice.
Touch.
And there are others, not just Aten in the class.
My eyes dart up and look across at the table he’s sitting at, flanked by Calix. But it’s Calix who catches my gaze and nods my way. And then Crimson looks up and stares right at me.
Right. Because I’ll have to practice with her, too. And by the looks of her, she’s still not happy about our previous showdown.
“You ready?” Micah stands next to me as I finish the last few bites of the bread roll.
“For this afternoon? Yeah. Sure. Are you going to get a good view at the front for the show?” I mock.
“You’ll be fine. Relax.” He smiles at me. “Come on.”
He leads me over to the classroom, but unlike yesterday, the whole room has been cleared. No desks or chairs. Just an empty space.
“At least there won’t be any more surprises.” Micah looks around.
“Yeah. Because the furniture’s been moved, there won’t be any surprises.” I tilt my head at him.
“I’m choosing to be positive.” He steeples his fingers and drums them together as he looks past me to the door, and I turn around to see Rowan striding towards us.
“Ah, Ever. Ready?”
“Sure.” I force a smile and try to centre myself as the rest of the class files in behind him.
“Same plan as yesterday. Make a circle. We’ll pick up again with Ever and Ravi.”
I stay where I am as everyone walks past. My eyes seek out Ten’s, and this time, I catch his gaze. He smiles, and my heart picks up. Get through this, and with a little luck, he’ll be next. Ten stands at the edge of the class, in my line of vision, just past Ravi’s shoulder.
Ravi shifts his weight from one leg to another as the room quietens, expectancy charging the air until he steps towards me and raises his hand.
A last look towards Ten, and I raise my hand to meet Ravi’s, pulling my eyes to his, so much darker than Ten’s. He smiles, but there’s a twitch of anxiety, perhaps.
My palm meets his, and I mentally think of the well in my chest, closing my eyes to concentrate on that feeling—the same one I found with Kyra. It steadies me. But instead of staying calm, a chill shivers over my palm, and a moment later, rain starts to break the water’s surface.
I open my eyes. It’s not just in my mind. The rain is in the classroom.
Rain falls from the ceiling as if we were outside in the open. The drops grow, and wind conjures from nowhere, blowing in and catching the rain with it, gusting the water into our faces. It’s like we’re the centre of a miniature storm.
The water starts to track down my face, rivulets following the contours of my features and drenching my hair.
