“Their daughter, Yasmine, who attends here.” I smirk with a raised brow.
“Get–the–fuck out. For real?”
“Yep. She’s a second-year student, same as me.” I shrug. *Sip*
The space between us becomes quiet and neutral. Kyra stares into the distance, nibbling on her bottom lip and ignoring the beverage placed beside her.What is she thinking about?This silence is tortuous and…then I gasp.
My cup shatters into pieces as it strikes the floor. “Kyra,” I yell, standing in haste, knocking over the chair.
“See, I told you!” Her volume pings around the room as she bounces with excitement. There was no sign of magic being used. No words spoken or hand movements, yet she holds a photo that materialized out of thin air. I retrieve it from her jittering hands and scowl at the moisture coating it.
“How did you summon this?” I ask, glancing over the item that shouldn’t exist. “Why is it sweaty?” Gripping the corners and side-eyeing her, I see she is as dumbfounded as me. I should be more excited instead of focusing on the ‘how,’ but in my hands lies a miracle. A poor representation of Yasmine.
“My palms get sweaty sometimes when I’m feeling antsy.” Sheshrugs. “But I don’t know. Your version of Aladdin had me invested, so when it ended, I wanted to know what Yasmine looked like. So I pictured a baby from Princess Jasmine and Aladdin.” She shrugs once more, then returns to her excited bounce.
“I mean, it’s not perfect. Yasmin’s jawline isn’t this sharp, and her eyebrows aren’t nearly this thick, but…close enough.” I release a chuckle.
“Whatever. It’s not like I’ve seen her before.” She snatches the photo, letting her smile lift her cheeks as she stares in disbelief of finally proving the toilet parchment issue. “I’m going to try again.”
“Okay.” Stepping back, I allow her space. “If it helps, Yasmine has thin brows and soft features like most women.”
“Yeah, I get it. No need to beat a dead horse.” She squints and scrunches her nose.
“Why the hell would I go beating a dead horse? It’s cruel.” Frowning at her implication, I question, “Is that a mortal thing?”
Kyra exhales and pinches her lips. “It’s a figure of speech. I’m not telling you to actually beat a dead horse. And no, that’s not a mortal thing.” Sass wraps her response as her head shakes. “May I continue, please?” I nod, relieved my bestie isn’t psychotic.
She places the photo down and shakes both hands, glancing my way with a confident smirk before closing her eyes. We need this to work–I need this to work. Seeing how defeated she becomes with each night yielding no results, I can’t afford for this not to.
Seconds pass without results. Not missing the emptiness of her hands, she attempts once more.Come on, Kyra, focus.Agitation blossoms over her cheeks, turning them a desaturated red as her breath quickens. More time lapses and still…nothing. Hope has me locking onto her empty palms for a sign of anything. Afraid we’ve missed our opportunity for her to remain at Rebirth, dread knots in my stomach, an ache of such hope beginning to smolder out.
“Kyra, it’s not working. We–”
“It has to,” she snaps. “You saw it; I made the picture appearout of nowhere. I can do it.” She frowns, and I become quiet, not sure what response is helpful.
With her vision remaining closed, palms facing upwards, and determination crinkling her brows, a faint red glow shines from the center of her hands. A photo materializes and blankets over both palms as the hum of her redden glow fades from existence.
I inhale deeply, being able to witness her magic, and the once smoldering hope explodes into a roaring flame of confidence. My blood pressure rises, ascending towards the sky like a shifted phoenix.
“Kyra,” I whisper, refraining from pouncing on her out of sheer exuberance. She peeks between her tightly closed lids, and they burst open, revealing an equally shocked expression. Her jaw slackens wide as reality crashes down, and a sense of ease relaxes her shoulders. Kyra has magic, and without a doubt, both of us now know it.
“See,” she yells, sending Valirene’s winter bumps trailing along my arms while holding the image towards me and doing something mortals call a happy dance.
“I do, without a doubt this time.” Our smiles match, both wide and stretching. Grabbing the photo and noticing it’s a better version of Yasmine, but still poorly represented, an excited shriek leaves me. “You have magic!” To hell with being composed, I join in on her little happy dance.
“I knew it. Almost being eaten by a dragon must have awakened something. You can’t tell me I wouldn’t have been devoured had it not sensed it.” She chuckles about it now. “It snarled and bared its teeth. All signs pointed to me about to be devoured. But then the beautiful beast sniffed me and that’s when it smelled my magic. It wasn’t a dream and I know I’m right, Angie!”
The other day Kyra returned in a panic, explaining an enormous, silver scaled dragon tried eating her right after dealing with Alex and Ethan. I reassured her that if it wasn’t a dream, and indeed tried devouring her, there is nothing she could have done otherwise. I also informed her that dragons have a high sense of smell and perhaps she was a bit ripe. That didn’t go well, but she still insistsher perspective is what happened. Hence the many text messages after.
We continue yelling at the top of our lungs, passing the image back and forth until reality hits me. We need to inform the others.
“Ethan.” Returning my composure, I continue, “He has to see this.”
“Hell no. The last thing I need is him ruining this moment.”
“Well, Alex isn’t here, and all things considered, this might help get him off your chest.” I reach for my phone.
“You mean, off my back? And he wants to kill me, remember. Or have you forgotten the many threats on my life?”
