Page 51

Chapter 50

Selestina

I glance into the small mirror propped on my desk, my reflection staring back with a coldness I barely recognize. My hazel eyes, the flecks of gold catching in the dim lamplight, seem to hold questions even I don't have the answers to.

My skin looks paler than usual, the bruising from weeks of combat training still fading around my neck and shoulders. But beneath it, something stirs, something that isn't me, ever since my death, even more so after the shadows, and now it’s undeniable after the resurrection of the bird, and the stress of everything else.

I press my palm against my chest, over the steady rhythm of my heart, willing it to slow. Something is wrong, something is fundamentally off and I don't need Nasarea's sharp looks or the cryptic stanzas of an ancient prophecy to tell me that anymore. It's in the way my body moves, the way my senses sharpen in ways no human's should, the way magic clings to me.

What am I? The thought cuts through me .

It comes flooding into my mind, the bird jerking oddly under my fingers, unnatural light behind its eyes. I squeeze them closed, willing the image gone. It's seared in now, though, a permanent reminder that whatever I did wasn't normal magic.

I let out a frustrated sigh and swing my legs over the side of the bed, standing. The cool stone floor bites at my bare feet, as I cross the room to the desk. The scent of ink and parchment lingers from the books I borrowed from the library, their ancient bindings stacked in precarious towers around my room. But none of them have given me answers, only more questions.

Alexander's name hides in the back of my mind, never spoken but acknowledged nonetheless. I dig into the edge of the desk with my knuckles whitening. Could he have known? Did he do this to me?

The memories surface, unbidden and insistent. Alexander's cold blue eyes, the way he would watch me, not as a mentor or guardian but as an artist with his design. He had always been there, guiding me, training me, molding me into something sharp, something deadly. Yet, often in quiet, flashing seconds, his gaze would rest upon me for too long, and his words too carefully chosen, as if the truth he kept was something I wasn't ready to hear.

And his orders from last night—I didn't follow them. Which means my death is probably imminent, anyway.

I press my fingers to my temples, the thoughts of last night and all the dirty things Nazriel did to me. I shake my head and focus again.

The scars on my body, souvenirs of the times I failed Alexander.

But what if he wasn't trying just to train me? What if he was hiding me ?

The realization hits me hard.

I pace the room…again.

How many times had I felt it? That wall inside me, that invisible barrier which kept me from fully tapping into my magic.

A block, perhaps? That has to be what it is. My thoughts are again spiraling.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door opening. Nasarea steps inside, her arms crossed and her expression wary. Her blue eyes flick to my face, and her brow furrows. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” I mutter, pushing off the desk and meeting her gaze. I hesitate for a moment, then gesture for her to sit on the bed. “I need to talk to you.”

She doesn't argue, sinking onto the edge of the bed, her posture stiff. “What's going on, Selestina?”

I pace the room, trying to organize my scattered thoughts. “I think… I think there's a block on me.”

Nasarea cocks her head to one side; she's clearly perplexed. “A block?”

I halt and face her. “Something's locked inside me, magic, memories, something. I can feel it, but I can't access it. It's like a door I don't have the key for.”

Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “And you think Alexander put it there?”

“I don't know,” I admit, my voice breaking. “But it's possible. He's always been… there. He never did anything without a reason.”

Nasarea regards me for a long moment, her face inscrutable. Then she exhales, easing backward. “Okay, what should we do?”

The words leave my lips before I can question them. “What if you tried to heal me? ”

Her eyes widen, and she stares at me as if I have lost my mind. “Heal you? Selestina, that's… no. That is insane.”

“Why not?” I ask, desperation creeping into my voice. “You said you could heal; perhaps you could find whatever is blocking me.”

Nasarea scoffs, shaking her head. “I can heal cuts and bruises, not freaking blocks on someone's magic. Do you hear how ridiculous this sounds?”

I grasp her hands. “Please, Nasarea. I don't know who else to trust with this. If there's even a chance you can help me, I need to try.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You're insane, you know that?”

“I'll take that as a yes,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the tension.

She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue, muttering under her breath as I lie down on the bed. She sits next to me, her hands hovering over my chest.

“Alright,” she says, tone cautious. “This is probably going to feel… weird. And if something goes wrong, it's your fault.”

“Got it,” I say, bracing myself.

She places her hands on my chest, and within just seconds, I am filled with warmth. Her hands begin to glow, the light soft and golden, filtering through my body as if sunlight would in water. My muscles tense of their own accord, and I will myself to relax.

“Breathe,” she murmurs. “Just… breathe.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the rhythm of my breath as her magic sinks deeper. The warmth turns sharp, like needles pricking beneath my skin, and I wince.

“Feel anything?” she asks, and her voice is strained .

“There's something,” I whisper, my voice tight. “Like a knot. It's… heavy.”

“I feel it too,” she says, her tone grim. “It's deep. Like it's buried in layers. I can't… I can't reach it.”

Her hands shake slightly, and the glow brightens. A tide of heat sweeps through me, and I gasp, digging my hands into the sheets beneath me.

“Nasarea,” I choke out, “are you okay?”

She doesn't respond, not right away, anyway. Her attention is wholly consumed by the magic flowing between us. A bead of sweat forms on her forehead; her jaw clenched, she pushes more energy. The pressure in my chest increases again, as if something inside me wants to claw its way out.

“Almost,” she mutters. “Just… a little more.”

Suddenly, the warmth is gone, replaced by a cold void. Nasarea pitches forward, catching herself on her hands as her magic sputters out.

I sit up quickly, grabbing her shoulders. “Nasarea! Are you okay?”

She nods weakly, her breathing labored. “I'm fine. Just… tired. That took more out of me than I expected.”

“Did you… did you find anything?” I ask, my voice shaking.

She looks up at me, her expression serious. “There's definitely something there, Selestina. Something strong. But it's buried deep. Whoever put it there… they didn't want you to find it.”

The words send a chill down my spine. “So it's real.”

“It's real.” She confirms, wiping a hand across her damp forehead. “But I couldn't break through. Not yet, anyway. And Selestina?” Nasarea pauses. “A witch put it there. I don’t know who, or how, or when, but I do know she is very powerful. I felt her warning the moment my magic attempted to heal the block. It felt like a scolding from my grandma.” She winces.

I settle back, the weight of her words settling over me. A block. And a strong witch put it there.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a mage? Alexander is centuries old, so I guess that could qualify him as a grandpa?” I question.

“Mmm, no.” Nasarea shakes her head, resolute. “Definitely a powerful witch. I think she may have been protecting you, Sel. I didn’t feel malicious intent. I felt warmth, like a grandma’s promise.”

Nasarea leans back against the wall, her breathing gradually evening out. “You have a lot going on, Selestina. And I have absolutely no idea what all it means. But one thing is certain.”

“What?” I ask quietly.

“You're not human, that’s absolutely certain now,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And whatever's inside you? It's powerful. Really powerful.”

I stare at her, my mind racing. There's no going back now. Too many secrets. Too many unanswered questions. Whatever happens next, I need to find out the truth—no matter the cost.

“I think we should make an ofrenda,” I whisper softly. Nasarea’s eyes narrow trying to figure out where I am going with this. “For your mom.” I finish.

Nasarea’s eyes slightly widen. Surprise written across her face. She opens her mouth but quickly closes it, unsure of what to say next. “I think…” She starts. “I think I would like that. Thank you, Selestina.”

“Thank you, Nasarea. For trusting me. For being my friend. For having my back. And for doing whatever you can to figure out what is going on with me,” I say genuinely. Nasarea nods softly.

We sit like that for the rest of the night. Exhausted but content.