by Ivy Asher
The loud boom of Aydin’s shout magnifies the pain in his words and tone. Maybe it’s the grief I’m struggling with, or the stress of this shitty day, but something in me fractures and whirl on him.
“You fucking should be! You pretended to be my friend. You knew what I had been through. You knew because I let you in, let you see who I am, but it wasn’t enough for you. You stepped aside over and over again and gave them your silent permission to bleed me dry. You’re a fucking coward and a liar. You should be more than sorry. You should be fucking ashamed.”
I wipe furiously at the angry tears dripping down my face. Enoch and his coven are positioned by the door, blocking Aydin from coming in. They silently witness the exchange, their eyes fixed on the ground as my pain and rage lash out to where Aydin is standing. I hate that I’m emotionally cut open and exposed in front of more people I’m not sure I can trust.
“I’ve left the coven. I asked to be reassigned. Evrin has too.”
Of all the things I anticipated Aydin could say, that was not one of them. Fucking hell. Aydin stares at me, broken and begging. I look away from the intensity of the questions I see in his eyes and run my fingers through my hair. I tug at the roots in an attempt to hold on to anything and ground myself, but I suddenly feel drained to the point of emptiness. I close my eyes and give a shuddering sigh. Slow tears, I couldn’t stop if I tried, drip down my cheeks to plummet to their end from my jaw.
“What do you want, Aydin?”
I open my eyes and stare at him, as the hollow question leaves my mouth. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and we take each other in, both of us trying to read the other, gauge what’s going to come from this.
“You were right; I let you get crushed under the weight of Lachlan’s pain. I let doubts and the past taint my own impressions of you, and I know I failed you because of that.”
Aydin’s voice breaks and his eyes well up, but he doesn’t allow the tears to fall. I wish I could figure that trick out. I’m starting to get really tired of spontaneously crying. I’ll have to add that to the list of things Aydin will never teach me. I’ll put it right next to creating fire with magic, and loyalty.
“I just want you to know that I’m still here. I can’t take back what I did, or the damage it caused, even though I would do anything to be able to. I can’t make it right, but I can show you that I have your back, the way that you deserve. The way I should have always been there for you.”
His words battle against my defenses, but ultimately, they don’t breach the pain and betrayal I feel. I shake my head and stare past him into the night.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to able to trust you. I’m just not built for forgiveness.”
We stare at each other for a moment before Aydin gives me a sad nod, and he blinks back tears. Mine continue to flow freely, as my admission shatters both of us.
“That’s okay,” he tells me, his voice choked with heartache and apology. “But I’m still going to be here regardless. I’ll earn it whether you can give it or not.”
Aydin and I stand there, neither one of us sure what to do now. Eventually, I give him the slightest acquiescing nod. I don’t know what else there is to say or do at this point. He watches me a moment longer before he turns around and leaves. I stare unseeing out the open door. I work to unravel the mess of feelings that are tangled inside of me as Enoch and the others carry boxes past me. I don’t know how long I stand there, statue-like, before I give up my search for meaning and answers in the empty doorway that frames the empty night.
6
Sunshine that’s too bright and cheerful for how I’m feeling this morning flashes through the windows. Cutlery scrapes against plates and bowls as we all eat, suffocating in awkward silence. Apparently, my emotional display with Aydin yesterday ramped up the awkwardness around here, and none of these guys know what the hell to do with me now. Or maybe the reality of this fucked up situation has sunk in, and there’s not much to say about it.
Milk drips off my spoon as I scoop another bite of cereal into my mouth, and I silently formulate a plan to convince the sisters to come live with me. I’ve already broken up Lachlan’s coven, why not go for the jugular and steal the sisters away too. I’m not sure how long I’m going to have to stay in this house, but when I do get out, I’m going to need the sisters, their loving and calming ways, and their amazing food to help me recover.
“So, we should probably go over the plan for today.”
Heads swivel in my direction, and I look up to find Enoch talking to me. His eyes look a little bluer and less gray today, and I wonder if the shade changes often and what the catalyst is.
“The elders are going to come by this morning and determine what you need to get caught up with where you should be,” Enoch explains, his eyes settle on my mouth for a second and then flick away.
I wipe at my lips and chin making sure I don’t have a trail of milk or something.
“I’ve got a hundred on her being paladin,” Kallan announces.
“I’ll take that bet,” Becket counters. “I know you guys said she’s good with weapons, but if her magic is as weak as it seemed to be yesterday, they won’t want her.”
“She’s a healer for sure. She healed injuries on me that she didn’t have direct contact with. That’s her strongest branch no question. She can fight, so I’ll bet paladin too,” Nash argues.
They look to Enoch and wait for him to weigh in. He looks at me appraisingly and then pulls out his wallet. “I’ll wager she’s paladin. What do you think, Pebble?”
Pebble rolls his eyes and glares at me. Apparently, his nickname has caught on, and it’s thoroughly entertaining to watch how irritated it makes him.
“She’s too hot to be a proper warrior. I think Aydin was going easy on her, trying to build up her fragile self-esteem. There’s no way she’s as good as he says. I’m with Becket.”
“Careful Pebble, your sexist pig is showing,” I say, and shove another spoonful of cereal in my mouth.
I don’t really care what any of them think, and I don’t have the energy to be offended or make more of this stupid bet than it is. The doorbell rings and my eyes narrow at Enoch as he moves from the table to answer it. I suspect that will be the elders, here to fuck with my life some more. I grumble internally and debate for half a second if I should get dressed. I look down at my sweat pants and tank top and decide I don’t give a shit. I finish up the last of my breakfast as a large group of casters shuffle in through the doorway.
The rest of the guys at the table all stand up and move over to the group of new arrivals. Boisterous greetings, involving back slapping and over-the-top-familiarity follow me to the sink where I wash and dry my breakfast dishes. A pang hits me; I miss the sisters. Not just their cooking, but their warmth and playfulness. I double down on my sister coaxing-slash-kidnapping plan.
I turn around to face the group responsible for my current cluster fuck of a situation.
“It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Vinna. How are you settling in?” Elder Cleary asks me, too chipper for my liking.
Just like yesterday, I stare at him but say nothing. He smiles at me and brushes off my hostility.
“I hope Enoch has filled you in on what the plan is for today. We’re here to observe and help in any way needed to get you brought up to speed as quickly as possible.”
Elder Cleary turns to the others in his group and starts introducing the mostly unfamiliar faces.
“Unfortunately we didn’t get to introductions yesterday, but this is Elder Kowka.”
The Polynesian elder I magicjacked yesterday gives me a nod that makes the salt and pepper curls of his medium length hair wobble and sway. He’s not incredibly tall but his thighs are the size of tree trunks, and his arms are only marginally smaller. Even though he’s not defined in a bodybuilder kind of way, he’s clearly solid muscle under his russet colored skin.
“And this is Elder Albrecht.”
Elder Cleary ges
tures to a man who is obviously related to Becket, the fourth member of Enoch’s coven. It’s like looking into the future and getting a glimpse of what middle-aged Becket will look like. Elder Albrecht has the same clean-cut ash brown hair and brown eyes. His face is more creased and decorated with time, but the same straight eyebrows and high cheekbones are prevalent. His arm is around Becket’s shoulders, and they seem to have an easier relationship that the other father-son duo of Enoch and Elder Cleary.
A well muscled and scarred man steps forward when Elder Cleary nods at him. His hair is thick and stylishly cut, but the white-as-snow color hints at his age. His skin is darkly tanned and leather-like, with pale scars that streak through his eyebrow, cheek, and lips on the left side of his face. It’s not just one solid scar but multiple fine lines that make up the appearance of one. I instantly want to sit and listen to his battle stories, knowing they’re probably epic.
“Hello, Vinna, I’m Gideon Ender. The leader of the Paladin.”
We shake hands, both of our grips firm, and I notice more small lines of scarring on both of his arms. He’s about four inches taller than my five-eight, and he’s fit and trim. Keeping with my temporary vow of silence, I say nothing to his greeting, and he gives me what looks like an approving nod before stepping back amongst the group.
The last man of the group to be introduced is a dead ringer for Marilyn Manson. White powdered face, black-lined hazel eyes, dark lips, and thin ebony hair stare back at me as if he’s ready to go on stage. I miss what his actual name is, I’m so caught up in the likeness, but he gives me a friendly nod in greeting, and it’s all I can do not to start whispering the beautiful people, the beautiful people to him. I do catch that he’s apparently a very well renowned teacher at the Academy, which is the local caster school, but this doesn’t surprise me, Marilyn Manson was always hella smart.
“Well it’s a lovely day out, so should we move this into the backyard and get started? The conscripts have a state of the art training facility out there,” Elder Cleary explains, already moving to the large sliding glass doors before anyone can answer.
Everyone files out and follows Elder Cleary past the deck, through the professionally cut grass and down into a small stone arena.
“What does it say about you and your coven that you have a gladiator pit in your backyard?” I ask Enoch, as we walk side by side behind the group of visitors.
“It says the guys in 300 have nothing on us,” he teases, and rubs his abs. “Gladiator pits are all the rage now, get with the times.”
I chuckle and give him a look that says yeah okay and watch as everyone makes themselves comfortable on the stacked stone seating on one side of the arena. The enclosed ground is some kind of sand mixture. I trudge to the middle, figuring that’s where they’ll want me, being that I’m today’s entertainment. Marilyn Manson casually walks up next to me and faces the elders, dutifully awaiting their instructions. Standing here facing off against this powerful group of casters feels a bit like standing in front of a firing squad. I have no idea what’s about to go down and no clue if it will be one of those days where my magic wants to cooperate or be a pain in the ass.
“Alright Vinna, we’re going to go over what we know about your magic based on the report that Reader Tearson submitted. That will give us a starting point. Then Caster Sawyer will take you through several exercises to test your understanding and ability to use of your magic,” Elder Nypan tells me, his dark eyes and toothy smile friendly.
I nod my understanding, but instantly feel nervous about the report Reader Tearson submitted. Could he have lied to me about keeping the knowledge of my being a Sentinel secret? He seemed so trustworthy and earnest, but what the hell do I know anymore?
“It states here that you carry multiple branches of magic. More specifically that you rank very strong in Offensive, Defensive, and Elemental magic, and strong in Healing magic. It was also noted that you presented some Spell magic, but it was ranked as weak. Is that correct?”
I nod my head and open my mouth to voice my confirmation.
“I thought she was lying when she told us that,” Kallan mutters, before I can answer Elder Nypan.
The others all trade shocked looks and grumbles before quieting down and staring at me wide-eyed.
“No Conscript Fyfe, it is true.”
“How is that possible? No one has more than two branches of magic, and if they do, it’s incredibly rare to rank very strong in both,” Pebble throws out.
“Paladin Rock, watch yourself. You are here in a professional capacity, not a personal one,” Paladin Ender barks out.
Pebble’s posture immediately stiffens and a detached mien shutters over his features.
“Caster Aylin’s abilities are unparalleled. She is a lucky find, if not a mysterious one,” Elder Albrecht announces, a suspicious bite to his tone, as he flattens nonexistent wrinkles out of the front of his button-down shirt.
I can’t help the huff of annoyance that escapes me at the accusation in his eyes. It looks like I’ve come full circle back to the threat bullshit. Marilyn Manson or Caster Sawyer, as he’s apparently going by these days, gives me a small knowing smile at my sound of irritation. I shrug my shoulders in a what can you do motion, and he chuckles.
“They may think I’m all big scary powerful, but they’re about to find out that I can’t do shit with my magic. It doesn’t listen to me. It’s a very angsty teenager and only does what it wants, when it wants,” I whisper to Marilyn.
His chuckle grows into a deeper laugh, and his eyes fill with a friendly understanding.
“That’s what I’m here for. We’ll get it all sorted out today, and you’ll be taking over the caster world in no time,” he says, with a conspiratorial wink from his darkly lined eye.
“Caster Sawyer, you may begin your assessment,” Elder Balfour announces.
The low rumbles of other conversations around the elders stop, and all eyes focus in on me and the caster now facing me.
“I know it feels weird to have an audience, but you’ll have to try and block them out,” Marilyn tells me, his black painted lips lifted in a smile. “Well Vinna, I’m going to walk you through some visualizations and activities that will help me test your control and command of the power you hold. Now, let’s start with how you reach for the different branches of magic you possess. Can you identify the different tones or impressions each branch has inside of you?”
“I’ve read about all of them before I had my reading, I was trying to figure out what branch I might have…”
“I bet that was confusing,” Marilyn says with a snort.
“Yeah, that’d be an understatement. Nothing I felt inside seemed to match what the books said. Now I realize that’s probably because I have more than one branch of magic.”
Marilyn nods his head in agreement and begins to circle me, looking me over with a critical eye.
“Close your eyes please, Vinna. Before we can do much as far as the assessment goes, you need to learn how to call each individual branch of magic. I imagine that you aren’t having much success at this point with managing your magic because you are feeding your intent with multiple branches of power, not all of which are capable of doing what you ask of them.
I consider his words, and surprisingly what he’s saying makes sense to me. I think back to the times I’ve tried to use my magic and failed. He’s right. When I attempt to do anything outside of using my runes, on purpose, I call on everything in my center and try to force it to do what I want. I close my eyes and before he can instruct me, to I tap into my source of magic.
“Very good, that’s exactly what you need to do,” Marilyn tells me, like he’s a passenger in my body and can see what I’m doing. “Now that you’ve given yourself access, let's identify the differences in the branches, starting with Offensive magic. I’m going to list off different ways that Offensive magic users have described their magic, and you tell me which resonates best with yours, okay?”
I nod
my head. “Okay.”
“Offensive or armament magic is usually the easiest to identify. It feels aggressive, eager, and demanding. Casters usually see it in tones of red or pink. It has a cool feel to it, not icy, but the touch of a cool fall day. It will come willingly when called, but can be the hardest to reign in and control.”
I visualize the magic in my center, and the image of a squirmy and tangled ball of yarn comes to mind. As I listen to Marilyn describe what I’m looking for, I search through the jumbled cords and find strands that match his descriptions. The Offensive magic in me is magenta, and the deep consuming pink threads have a restless feel to them. There is a soothing coolness that brushes comfortingly through me as I call the magic forward, and I can’t help the excitement that flashes through me when the twitchy magenta tendrils listen and come to the forefront.
A staticky buzz flashes haphazardly across my body, and I know that the magic is lighting up my skin in bolts and streaks.
“Very well done, Vinna. Now, I want you to seize that magic and use it to take away my eyesight.”
My eyes jerk open at his request, but I just manage to keep my hold on the magic.
“It’s fine. There’s no right or wrong way to do this. It’s your puzzle to solve and whatever you do will not be permanent,” Marilyn reassures me.
I question how smart this is for a second but decide he’s the one asking for it, so who cares. I focus in on his charcoal smoky-lined eyes and the rich brown color of his irises. I picture them clouded over with a white film that keeps all light from penetrating the pupil. I show the magic in my grasp what I want it to do, and when it gets restless, I release it and watch stunned as Marilyn’s eyes are brown one moment and white and unseeing the next.
“Holy shit, I did it,” I say completely surprised.
Instead of freaking out like I would expect, Marilyn smiles and claps his hands, praising me.
“Excellent! Now, feel for the traces of your magic that are now a part of me, because of what you just cast. When you find it, call it back to you, and your casting will lift.”