Page 42 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

E mmery came to despise everything about the training room—the bland white walls, the scent of sweat and metal, and the practice dummies mocking her. Maybe it was the unending battle with her magic or struggle with weaponry, but the days blended.

Each morning she trained with Briar until she was panting and shaky, then sessions with Callias which resembled inhumane torture more than instruction.

Occasionally she found some free time to tuck away in a book, but these were sparing.

And after one night she grossly overindulged, she had to quit drinking too.

That next morning her pounding head and roiling stomach prevented her from producing even a spark and Briar sang unbearably high at the top of her lungs to ensure she wouldn’t do it again.

But thankfully, most nights Emmery fell into bed so tired the nightmares stayed at bay. At least for now.

And with each day, she tamed her beastly magic, even if the progress was painfully slow. Whether it made her worthy for the prophecy, she didn’t know, but if it meant she wouldn’t hurt anyone else by losing control, she would throw everything into training.

On the positive side, trust had formed between her and Briar, though she couldn’t say the same for Callias.

Once, Vesper caught her sifting through the papers on his desk for information on Izora’s spell, and though she argued it was curiosity, there was skepticism in his eyes.

But if he was truly concerned, he didn’t let on.

Maybe he just underestimated her. However, time raced by for them to gather the items for Izora’s spell and restoring the kingdom consumed all his time.

A few nights ago, Vesper and Callias left to address some secret business and not even Marlys or Briar knew. Emmery overheard snips of conversation one night, but not enough to piece together.

Something about beasts.

That morning, like all the others, Emmery stood in the training room with Briar, her extended hand grasping at empty air.

She narrowed her eyes at the taunting candle, willing her magic to extend beyond her touch, though it was like tearing off her arm and tossing it aimlessly at a target.

It had been a week and all she had done was glare at that lightless wick.

At least she had finally stopped burning all her clothes off and learned to steer her flame.

Emmery had learned magic was tied to adrenaline, emotion, heart rate, and the speed in which her blood pumped through her body. But Briar promised she could channel it through breathwork with practice. Eventually.

Sighing her frustrations, Emmery rubbed her eyes. “Pretty sure you’re just trying to torture me.”

Briar paced, probably growing impatient with Emmery’s struggle.

“Projecting for the first time and recognizing the sensation is the hardest. But once you know the feeling it's easy. Like breathing.” She rubbed her flawlessly manicured fingers together. “Come on, this place is freezing. We could use some heat. Remember it’s like grasping pebbles. Small amounts. The smaller the magical fragment, the easier it is to control.”

Pebbles . She could do that.

Emmery scoured her mind, separating each bit.

The air constricted as her blood rushed, and magic buzzed in her veins like a million tiny insects.

It flowed from her chest to her fingertips, sweat pricking her forehead from exertion, but instead of unleashing it, she funnelled one small fragment.

Cracking an eyelid, she spotted the golden spark nestled in her palm.

Briar clapped, grinning. “Now send it, Emmy. Make it your bitch.”

Emmery blew out a jittery breath. Squeezing her eyes harder, she visualized the flame roaring to life on the wick. Bright. Alive. An extension beyond her touch, yet still part of her.

Her eyes sprang open.

And there it was.

A flickering golden flame devouring the candle wick. An astonished smile tugged at Emmery’s lips.

She did it. She actually did it.

Briar smirked smugly. “I didn’t doubt you for a second.

Have a little faith in yourself. And you’re progressing quickly.

We can start working more complex shields next.

Walls and barriers too. And—” When she met Emmery’s tired eye, she clamped her mouth shut.

“No, you’re right. We should take it slow. ”

Slumping against the wall, Emmery dabbed at her sticky forehead. “I’ve been suppressing my magic for so long ... it’s hard for me to let go I guess.” She shrugged like it was nothing, but the admission was a weighted lump of coal in her gut.

Briar slid down beside her, propping her arms on her bent knees. “It was like that for me too.” She subtly swirled her fingers, and the shadows leapt to swath them in a black shade. “Where I came from, there were strict laws on how and when Hollow magic was used.”

Emmery caressed a silken shadow with her fingertip. “You’re from an island close by?”

“The Cresswell Isles.” As she spun her finger her shadows became an obsidian tornado. “My brother and I left when I was only eight. Caught a ship to the mainland.”

Emmery lit her fingertips, and her flame kissed each one, before she dashed them away. “When did you meet Vesper?”

“We met him at Castle Dusk, but we met his father shortly after my brother and I ran from an orphanage. We were scrounging for food at the time and things were looking pretty grim. But he offered us shelter. We didn’t trust him of course, but we had nowhere else to go.

We were just children at the time. He fed us, clothed us, gave us purpose.

” She scattered the shadows. “He did that. Found people who needed help and offered it freely.”

Briar rubbed her eyebrow, adding, “I called him Daddy Malachi for the first few years we lived here, and he never balked at it. Let me pretend. The name stuck until the day he passed.”

Her fond tone struck Emmery in the chest. “It sounds like you were in the right place at the right time. Fate has a way of doing that.” Emmery glanced at Briar’s cavae , peeking through the deep vee in her tunic. “What was it like growing up Hollow?”

She snorted a humourless laugh but smirked.

“It was fucking awful . Children chosen by Deimos are treated like trash. You know it’s illegal to marry or have children with a Fallen?

Because they want to keep the bloodlines as clean as possible.

Like the world would suddenly be overrun with filthy Hollow babies. ”

Briar rolled her eyes. “Allegedly children who have parentage from both gods are always chosen by Deimos. The premise is ludicrous.”

Emmery worried her lip. She could see how Izora’s magic in particular could be dangerous if exploited, but the rest of Hollow magic seemed harmless. An aid to society even. Studying her flame, she asked, “Would you change it? If you could be Fallen, would you?”

Briar drummed her fingers on her knee, quiet for a contemplative moment. “No. Despite my upbringing, I’m proud to follow Deimos.” She rested a red tipped nail on her cavae . “But it’s what I am. Not who I am. You’re lucky you’re both.”

Stomach cinching, Emmery swallowed her guilt. Mostly for her ungratefulness, because she hardly felt lucky. “Why do you say that?”

“Not only do you have two types of magic, which are unheard of—well, besides Vesper and Iz—but you aren’t thrust into a life you didn’t choose. You get to live both parts. Love who you want without reservation and fear.” The last words held a bitterness. Maybe she was thinking of Callias.

Scrunching her nose, Emmery hugged her knees to her chest. “To be honest, I’m torn. I can’t figure out what I am or where I fit. And the Shadowheart —” She glanced sideways at Briar who gave her a brief nod as if she already knew. “I want to belong somewhere. Be normal for once.”

“Normal is overrated. You don’t need to be anything for anyone besides yourself,” Briar replied, offering a soft smile.

It was easier said than done.

A silence swelled before she spoke again.

“You know, my father was Fallen and worked as a tutor when he met my mother. He knew she was Hollow, and they fell for each other anyway. I guess some things you can’t change, and love has a way of worming into your heart. They ran away together when she became pregnant with my brother.”

“That’s sort of romantic,” Emmery said. “To love against all odds.”

“It is, but it didn’t end well for them.

After they had my brother, it was tough for them and even harder after they had me.

They had to hide their relationship and my father wasn’t around.

He couldn’t be. Even missed my brother’s birth.

My mother had to claim that she had us outside of a wedding blood oath.

It ruined her reputation. It’s highly looked down upon, especially for Hollow women. ”

Emmery’s heart ached at her story. To miss the birth of one's child and be punished for loving someone, like it’s a choice—it was unjust. God ordered or not.

Briar swallowed hard, her chest swelling with a deep breath.

“I was four when they were discovered. My father took a small tutoring job so they could settle in a remote home to help keep their relationship secret. It didn’t pay well, but it put food on the table.

It was one of the other Fallen tutors that reported him.

They were both executed by King Thellonius. ”

She went on, “My brother and I were out playing when the guard’s showed up. We hid in the trees outside our house until they left, but then they dragged us to that gods awful orphanage.”

Gut twisting, Emmery whispered, “That’s—awful.”

“It is. But we were unfathomably lucky they didn’t kill us. They could have gotten in tremendous trouble for not doing so, but I guess one of them knew my mother.” Briar shrugged as if it meant nothing at all, though she picked tirelessly at a scab on her arm until it bled. “But that’s life.”

Emmery chewed her cheek, unsure where to go from here. “Where’s your brother now?”

“I haven’t seen him in decades. Thankfully, he wasn’t here when the kingdom was destroyed, but he went missing after.

Vesper said he’s serving King Destonne and he’s there voluntarily, which makes no sense.

But then again Destonne has been known to be charming when he wants to be.

Maybe he has something over his head. Some blackmail or I don’t know. ”

“What’s he like?” Emmery asked. “Vesper told me he’s rather cruel. Vile, really.”

“He was always quiet and kept to himself, but I remember he was very clean cut and formal, and he didn’t keep a lot of friends.

Easy on the eyes too ... if he wasn’t such a psycho.

” She inspected her fingernails. “I haven’t seen him since he put on that wretched crown but I’m sure it’s a sight to behold. Probably messes up his perfect hair.”

An infectious grin claimed her face which Emmery returned until she caught sight of Briar’s faded fingers and her stomach lurched.

Because the tips were gone .

Briar wiggled her blurred fingers. “It’s the cost. All Hollow magic comes with a cost. Vesper’s steals the pigment from his hair, and honestly, he won’t admit it, but I think it’s aging him too.

Some are rumoured to inflict blindness or rot limbs and those with the burden of beast can lose their mind if they remain in their beast form too long.

Mine just turns me invisible. It’s not permanent but I try to use it sparingly.

Not sure what would happen if I didn’t.” And amazingly, her fingers refilled with colour as she spoke, fading back into existence. “You’ll have one for your—”

Bang !

Briar and Emmery leapt to their feet as the door practically knocked off its hinges.

Vesper stumbled through with Callias propped against him, arm slung around his shoulder, both drenched from head to toe in blood.