Page 11

A bowl of sand.

A single clod of dirt.

And a bowl of water.

“Water,” the Priestess had demanded, pointing to the bowl.

Fey raised her hand, focusing her power.

Years ago, when she had been to the temple on her tenth birthday, she had needed to wait only a moment before the elements reacted. The water, her primary elemental power, roiled and moved under her command. The Priestess had only nodded and demanded she switch to Air. And a moment later, the sand from the bowl twisted and rose in a spiral of wind.

Water primary, Air secondary, the Priestess had declared, draping a blue sash around her neck—marking her as a member of the Water Coven. And Fey had been shepherded out of the temple before the words could even sink in.

But… again, the dream changed, and what had happened was not what did happen.

Fey focused her power, as she had back then, but the water remained motionless. She focused harder, sweat beading on her skin.

She reached for her power, willing it to rise to her command, as she had a million times since. But where that power dwelt, where that pulse of water usually pooled under the surface, there was nothing.

Gone.

It was all gone.

She was crying in the dream now, and the old Priestess was shaking her head in disgust.

Nothing. No power, no strength, she was useless. Broken.

Fey screamed as hands grabbed her, pulling her away from the altar. She screamed and pleaded.

This was wrong, she knew it was wrong. Something burned in her, power burned in her, and she knew it. She had to show them, had to do something. She couldn’t go back home like this, couldn’t go back to being a helpless child. She couldn’t.

But it was too late, and she screamed and thrashed to no avail, as the hands pulled her out the door.

And shoved her down the temple stairs.

Fey awoke with a shuddering gasp, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and stifle a scream. She was coated in sweat, drenched in it, despite the cold chill of her room. Her sheets pooled around her, as wet with sweat as her skin.

Heart hammering in her chest, Fey sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, taking deep shuddering breaths.

A dream. It was just a dream.

Shaking with something that could have been fear, Fey reached inside for her power.

Her skin hummed in answer, and she felt it. The pulse of power as Water filled her, energy flowing just under her skin, filling her entire body.

The sound Fey made in relief could have been a laugh, a sob, or some combination of the two. She called Air next, and a different sort of power filled her veins. A softer power, a whisper beneath her skin. The air in the room swirled in response, dancing around her, cooling the sweat on her skin.

Just a dream.

A soft knock on her door announced her sister’s arrival a fraction of a second before she entered.

“Fey?” Joy called, poking her head inside the room. “Are you okay?”

Fey tried to nod, tried to say something, anything, in response, but all that came out of her mouth was a strangled sound. She was crying.

Joy crept into the room, closing the door silently behind her. She crawled onto the bed behind Fey, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Shhhh,” Joy murmured against her neck. Her hands rubbed soft, comforting circles over Fey’s shoulders and down her back. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe. Deep breaths, Fey. Breathe with me, little sister.”