Page 48 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

A dreamy smile blossomed on his lips, and for a moment, his eyes lost focus.

‘Imagine, Roksana, creating new life that can live separate from its master . . . How much I would give to have that ability. A life . . . a being that exists freely, not like golems bound to a mage’s will, or the beings animated by necromancy.’

He paused, and after a moment, the wonder and yearning left his features and were replaced by seriousness.

‘Your power rivals the gods themselves. Do you see why others might be afraid of you?’ he said, picking up a book from the table and opening it to a well-worn page.

‘Even before the purge, this trait was rare and only manifested in children born of a certain pairing. However, ever since the Mad Mage, every child exhibiting the trait in Tir ha Mor has been killed. I’ve heard that some vivamancers still exist across the sea .

. . or they did. Now, with Tangra men building up their empire there, who knows? It might just be gossip.’

I was stunned.

Eventually, I lifted my palm into the air, calling for the power inside me—the restless energy I’d sensed in Wiosna. Once it hovered over my skin, I pushed it towards a candle on the table, watching as the flame flickered erratically.

‘How can I use it? Show me,’ I said to Ciesko, but the healer chuckled and shook his head.

‘You’ll have to wait until the geas trial, for both your safety and others’, but I can teach you how to use other forms of aether. That will make it easier to control your power later.’

‘I told you, I can’t do other things. Look,’ I said, drawing the fire sigil. The energy sizzled and died as soon as I finished the last line.

Thank you, world.

I tried, again and again, reproducing the mark with a dwarven tinkerer’s precision, but nothing worked. Ciesko studied me with an amused expression, and when I finally cursed in anger, he chuckled.

‘If you’ve finished trying to prove your point, tell me why you attempted a fire sigil.’

‘Because it’s the easiest, has basic lines, and is simple to draw. I wanted to start easy and work my way up,’ I said.

Nodding, Ciesko took a quill and drew a few simple lines on his skin.

‘Try to recreate this.’

I studied his sigil. It looked crude, as if he’d drawn it with his eyes closed.

When I was sure I could reproduce the sigil perfectly, I focused on the aether, but as my finger hung in the air, Ciesko said, ‘No. Draw it on your skin.’

The energy flowed easily, following my finger, and lines appeared on my forearm.

To my surprise, they lingered there, the flow of energy condensing against my skin, numbing it.

What I didn’t expect was the silver needle the healer sank into my flesh as soon as I finished—nor did I expect to find that it didn’t hurt.

‘What? It worked, but how?’ I gasped, looking at the drop of blood on the small puncture wound.

‘You can’t use sigils that you have no affinity for.

Though, with time, you might be able to learn elemental spells that align with your magic, maybe even create simple illusions if you’re lucky.

I heard from Riordan that you’ve already learned how to deflect psychic magic.

And the colour of your aether? It means you’re a mage of the High Order.

Vivamancy is closer to healing than the primal elements.

That’s why you’ve found them difficult to create. ’

‘So where should I start?’ I asked, happy to finally have some explanation for the issues I'd been having. I’d purposefully avoided healing spells in Wiosna, unwilling to experiment on the suffering miners until I learned what I was doing.

If only I’d known that fear and self-doubt had been preventing me from advancing in what I was most suited for.

Ciesko smiled, observing my reaction before placing a hand on my shoulder.

‘At the very beginning. You’ll come here daily.

Don’t look at me like that, child—it will just be for a few hours.

Once you learn to heal simple things, you’ll come to work with me in the infirmary,’ he said, pulling a volume from a shelf.

‘Hopefully, in a month, you’ll have memorised The Healer’s Manual and Theory of Aether ,’ he added, placing another thick book in my hands.

‘And after you’ve given your geas, I’ll find the best teachers available to fill the gaps in my knowledge until you learn to control your power fully. ’

‘A month? No one can learn all this in a month!’ I said. ‘Besides, I have other things to do.’

Ciesko smiled before he asked, ‘When you tried to learn to use aether, why did you do it? You were already an accomplished poisoner.’

I pondered his question.

Why? Because I felt like there was something more beyond a mundane life—a force that touched my soul, awakening a yearning to immerse myself in it, to feel the world beyond what I could shape with my hands.

‘Because it was calling me, and I . . . because I’m not whole without it.’

My answer made him smile even wider. Ciesko placed his hand on my cheek, looking at me with a tenderness I had never seen on my own father’s face.

‘It calls to all of us, dear child, but you’ve been denied from answering it for too long. There is an ocean of power raging deep inside you. But before you touch it, you have to learn to control those little strands of aether you can access now.’

He sighed before opening a hidden compartment in his desk.

‘Read this,’ he said, handing me an old, leatherbound book with gold foil stamping on its cover. ‘It’s a tale on vivamancy, one of two that still exist. And remember, don’t let anyone know who you are—because even most liberal of us will be afraid of a mage who can create living monsters.’