Page 67

I follow him through passages that wind deeper into the mountain, each turn taking us further from the inhabited sections.

Other people nod respectfully as we pass, some watching me with undisguised curiosity.

I’m not sure if it’s because they’ve heard about the lightstone incident, or if it’s simply because I’m with Sacha, their mysterious leader returned from the dead .

The air grows cooler the deeper we go, the stone underfoot shifting from worn smoothness to a rougher, untouched texture.

The passageway opens into a large circular chamber with a high domed ceiling.

The floor is inlaid with patterns I don’t recognize, silvery lines that seem to shimmer faintly.

The walls are lined with recessed shelves, each holding objects of various shapes and sizes—crystals, metal implements, small wooden boxes.

Most strikingly, there are no lightstones. The only illumination comes from a single opening in the center of the domed ceiling, where sunlight pours through like a spotlight, creating a perfect circle on the floor.

“This is the training chamber.” Sacha’s voice takes on a tone that reminds me of professors back in college. “One of the few that has survived the Authority’s attempt to eliminate all knowledge of natural abilities.”

“It’s …” I stop, struggling for a word that fits. “ Incredible. ”

“The patterns in the floor help focus energy. The chamber itself was carved by Earthveins … earth shapers … designed to help those first learning to manifest control.” He moves to the center of the room, where the sunlight creates a perfect circle. “Stand here.”

Earthveins. Shadowvein. I want to ask more about the two words, but there’s something in his stance that stops me.

Instead, I do as he instructs, and cross the stone floor, heart pounding, and step into the light.

Warmth hits my face, but something more moves beneath it.

A low vibration rises from the stone, traveling up through my feet, and along my spine, filling my chest like a second heartbeat .

“What am I supposed to do?” The enormity of the situation hits me.

I’m standing in a place built for magic, a world away from everything I know, about to reach for something I still don’t fully believe belongs to me. Guided by a man whose mind, for a few stolen moments, had been joined to mine.

My fingers curl into my palms, and I try to ground myself.

“Don’t try anything yet.” Sacha circles me slowly, studying me like I’m an experiment. “First, I need to understand how you experience the power when it builds.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Close your eyes.” When I hesitate, he sighs, a breath of impatience let loose. “It will help you focus on internal sensations without visual distractions.”

I obey, shutting out the chamber. The darkness isn’t complete, sunlight paints the insides of my eyelids with a reddish glow, pulsing faintly with my heartbeat.

“When these manifestations occur—the fireplace, the lightstone, the cup—what do you feel physically?” His voice comes from my right, calm and deep.

“Pressure.” I search for the memory, letting myself fall into it. “Like something building inside my head, behind my eyes. A vibration that spreads outward from my chest.”

“And emotionally? What precedes it?”

I hesitate, sifting through the moments. “Frustration. I was arguing with you when the fireplace lit. During the meeting, I was frustrated because I couldn’t understand what was happening. With the cup, it was when I felt … when I was thinking about home.”

My cheeks warm slightly at the omission. The cup warmed when our eyes locked across the room. When something sparked between us before the kiss ever happened. But there’s no way I’m going to admit that.

“Strong emotions appear to be your triggers.” He sounds satisfied, like I’ve confirmed a theory. “Consistent with untrained abilities.”

His footsteps circle behind me, and I fight to keep my heart rate normal. I can almost feel him standing there, the awareness of his presence brushing along my skin like static, impossible to ignore.

“Keep your eyes closed. I want you to focus on that feeling. The pressure, the vibration. See if you can recall it without the emotional trigger.”

I concentrate, trying to remember exactly how it felt when the lightstone shattered, or the cup heated.

The physical sensations are clear in my memory, but reproducing them intentionally is harder than I expect.

I search for the pressure behind my eyes, the tingling along my skin, but nothing happens.

“I can’t do it,” I admit after several minutes of fruitless effort. “It’s not the same when I’m trying to make it happen.”

“Open your eyes.”

He’s standing directly in front of me, closer than I expected him to be, studying my face with that singular focus I’ve come to recognize .

“You’re approaching it from the wrong direction. Trying to recreate the result rather than the cause.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“Magic isn’t something you do, it’s something you are . The manifestations are expressions of energy that already exist inside you.”

He moves to one of the shelves lining the wall, and retrieves a small, clear stone that fits into his palm. “Let’s see if this helps. It’s called a focus crystal, designed to resonate with natural energy. Hold it.”

His fingers brush against mine as he passes the stone to me, a light touch that sends a jolt through my already unsteady center. I blink and lick my lips. He doesn’t seem to notice … or he chooses not to.

I cup the stone between my palms. It feels cool against my skin, its surface smoother than should be possible, as if it’s been polished beyond normal means. Nothing happens when I hold it. No flicker of light, no mysterious power awakening.

“Now close your eyes again.” His voice comes from behind me once more, low and steady. Too steady. “Don’t try to make anything happen. That’s what’s blocking you. Just feel the crystal, and let your awareness center on it. The power isn’t something foreign, it’s already within you.”

I do as he says, cradling the stone in both hands and closing my eyes. For several seconds, there's only silence and the weight of the crystal against my palms. My mind races despite my attempts to quiet it, scattering into a thousand fears I can’t quite hold down.

Then I feel it—a subtle vibration. A humming that seems to pass from the crystal into my hands, spiraling up my arms, and pooling in my chest. The sensation grows stronger, through muscle and bone, threading itself into all the spaces inside me.

“It’s warming up,” I whisper, surprised by the intimacy of the feeling. “And vibrating.”

“Good. Keep focusing.”

The vibration deepens, resonating through my body like a tuning fork against my bones. The pressure builds behind my eyes again, but this time it feels natural, not forced. Something shifts inside me, like a door cracking open.

“I think something is happening.” I’m afraid that speaking too loudly might break whatever connection is forming.

“Open your eyes. Slowly.” His command comes soft.

When I lift my eyelids, I gasp.

The crystal is glowing. Not brightly, just a faint silver light, barely visible, but it’s definitely illuminated from within, pulsing gently in time with my heartbeat.

“Am I doing that?” The question comes out breathless.

“Yes.” He sounds amused. “That’s your natural energy responding to the crystal’s properties.”

The glow pulses weakly, fading in and out with my concentration. When I try to intensify it deliberately, it dims completely, returning only when I stop reaching and let it rise naturally on its own.

“It’s so unpredictable.” Frustration builds as the light flickers and fades again. “I can’t control it.”

“Control comes with practice. You’re making progress. Manifesting energy without emotional distress as a trigger is hard.” His voice holds that steady control I recognize now as hard-won.

I stare at the crystal, willing the silver light to return, but it remains stubbornly blank. “It’s gone.”

“Energy depletes with use, especially for beginners.” He takes the crystal from me, fingers brushing mine once more before he turns it over in his hand.

“What happens when you focus on the crystal?”

“My power is different.”

“Right, shadows. But can you do it too? Make it glow?”

The corner of his mouth twitches—not quite amusement, but something close. “The crystal responds to latent energy. Shadows don’t typically glow .”

“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.” I cross my arms, and step closer. “I want to see what happens when you try.”

He studies me for a second, then sighs, and cups the crystal between his palms just as I had.

“Watch carefully then, Mel’shira.”

At first, nothing happens. Then the shadows around us shift. The crystal remains clear, but the darkness deepens around his hands, spreading outward in tendrils that dance across his skin.

The crystal itself begins to change. Instead of glowing, it grows darker, pulling light from the room.

The surface turns black, reflecting emptiness instead of illumination.

The shadows coil through his fingers, wrapping around the stone, and flow beneath its surface like captured smoke.

His control over it is absolute—no hesitation, no effort visible in his expression .

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, mesmerized by the way the darkness moves.

“Different power, different results.” He offers the crystal back to me. “The crystal is just a focus.”

When I take it, the shadows recede immediately, and it returns to its original transparent state. The ease of his demonstration stings a little.

“Show off,” I mutter, handing it back to him.

“Control comes with time.” He places it back on the shelf. “What matters is that we’ve confirmed your ability exists independently of emotional responses. It can be accessed intentionally, with practice.”

Fatigue crashes over me without warning, a sudden wave that drains the strength from my limbs. My legs buckle beneath me, and I reach blindly for the nearest shelf to steady myself.

Sacha moves faster.

His hand catches my elbow before I can fall. The contact slams into me, breaking whatever fragile balance I still had. The memory of last night’s connection flares hot and immediate. Minds brushing, emotions bleeding across boundaries that should not be accessible.

Surprise. Concern.

He pulls his hand away, and the contact shatters.

“Enough for today.” His voice is cool, crisp. “First attempts always drain more energy than you expect. You need food and rest.”

I don’t even try to argue. I feel like I’ve run for miles without stopping for a breath. Every muscle quivers with exhaustion.

“What was it? The silver light in the crystal … what does it mean?”

He guides me out of the chamber, his hand hovering near my back, close enough to feel the heat of it through the thin tunic. His pace slows to match mine.

“It appears your natural energy manifests as illumination. Light instead of shadow or any other element.”

“But I’m not from here, how can I have magical abilities from your world?”

His head turns, and his eyes meet mine for the first time today. “That, Ellie Bennett, is the question that may determine everything else.”

Back in his quarters, I sink into the nearest chair. Sacha pours me a cup of water without comment. My hands still tingle with the memory of the crystal’s energy, the sensations threading up my arms and into my chest, while my mind reels with the implications.

If I truly have magic abilities in this world, if I can learn to control them, what does that mean? What am I becoming?

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” His attention is already on the map on the table. “Progress will come with practice.”

I'm too tired to form a proper response, so I nod. Even though the exercise he had me perform seemed simple—make the crystal glow—the effort has drained me completely. My limbs feel leaden, but some part of me still hums, restless and unsettled.

If something this small takes so much from me, how exhausting must it be to yield the kind of power I’ve seen Sacha command without flinching?

I watch him as he bends over the map, making notes in that flowing script I can’t read. Whatever he’s planning is consuming him. The distance between us, the distance that broke for a short time last night, has been restored.

Maybe that’s good. Maybe it’s necessary.

Whatever happened—the connection, the kiss, the merging of minds—couldn’t have been real. It’s just the result of strange magic colliding with human emotion. Trying to make sense of it will only complicate things when everything is already complex enough.

For now, I need to focus on what matters. I need to learn how to control these bizarre abilities that keep breaking free at the worst possible moments. I need to understand what they’re doing to me.

And then I need to figure out whether they’re my ticket home, or the very thing that might make returning impossible.

The silver flecks that now shimmer permanently in my eyes suggest the answer is already being written into me, whether I want it or not.