Waking up the next morning, I was still mortified by my conversation with Echo the night before.
Goodnight, sexy.
The words replayed in my mind like a broken record, making me cringe under the covers.
And was it just me, or was he flirting just a little?
Of course it’s just me.
The guy had an entire girlfriend, one, I might add, who didn’t like me very much, if her eye-rolling and haughty sniff were any indication.
Releasing an audible sigh that felt heavy with embarrassment, I finally opened my eyes as I turned on the bed, only to be met head-on with a somewhat pale face hovering inches from mine.
My heart leaped into my throat.
On instinct, remembering the defensive spell my mom once taught me, I released it on the intruder, sending a mild shock their way.
“Shit!
Goddamn that hurts.
What gives, Gen?” Farrah’s voice was a pained groan.
I scrambled off the bed and to her side, where she was kneeling on the floor, her face buried in her hands.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know it was you!
What the hell are you doing in here looking at me like some kinda creep?”
Slowly, she removed her hands, bringing one to eye level to check for blood, I assumed.
Her usually vibrant face was a ghostly white, and her hair was a tangled mess.
“I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up so we can start magic practice, but it seems you don’t need it,” she grumbled, now prodding her face where I was sure it was a bit tender from the shock she’d just received.
“Is it bleeding?
Am I hideous now?
Oh god, no guy worth his salt will want to date me now.” Always the drama queen, was she right?
“You’re fine.
Come here.” Reluctantly, she rose from the floor and sat beside me at the edge of my bed.
Bringing my hand up to her face, I recited the incantation that would release some gentle healing magic, meant to take away the sting.
I knew when it started flowing through her because her eyes turned to saucers, wide with surprise, and it even brought some much-needed color back to her pale face.
The delicate scent of ozone, typical of minor healing spells, wafted in the air.
“There, now you can have the pick of the litter of guys we’ll soon be swimming in.” I joked, trying to lighten the mood as I moved toward the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Today marked the beginning of our formal magic training.
Grandma had said there were certain foundational elements we needed to be adept in, to master, in order to get the best class placements at the Academy.
After a quick, invigorating shower, I threw on some comfortable, loose-fitting clothing—dark leggings and an oversized soft tee—and headed downstairs, with Farrah eagerly leading the way, her usual boundless energy restored.
The layout of breakfast items on the grand dining table made my mouth water instantly, a lavish spread of fresh fruit, warm pastries, and steaming eggs.
It seemed she had eaten breakfast ages ago while waiting for me to make an appearance, impatient for the day’s magical lessons to begin.
After making a show of slowly draining my glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, taking exaggerated sips and humming contentedly, I finally gave in to her impatient glares and put my dishes in the sink, following her outside where my grandmother was apparently waiting.
“Finally awake, I see,” Tilly said, a slight, knowing smile playing on her lips, as we arrived under one of the massive, ancient trees I had seen when we first arrived on the compound.
It was an enormous oak, its branches stretching like gnarled arms.
She was sitting gracefully on a stone bench, going through some important-looking documents, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.
“Grandma,” I pointed out, feigning shock, “it’s only 8 AM.
How long have you guys been awake?”
“Since 6,” Farrah huffed out, confirming my suspicions.
Well damn, that’s early.
I watched as Grandma gathered all her papers together, a thick stack of parchment, and waved them lightly in the air before they vanished in a shimmer of light.
No doubt they were currently on her desk in a neat, magically ordered pile.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get down to it.”
She stood and motioned for us to sit down on the smooth stone bench, and we did as we were told, our anticipation building.
“Magic is all around us,” she began, her voice taking on a resonant, almost hypnotic quality, “it’s up to us to tap into it, to channel its power.
The first thing you need to understand are the elements.
Air, Earth, Water, Fire.
One of these elements will be your strongest, your innate connection, your truest affinity.
While you are able to wield all of them, there will be one that you feel most comfortable with, one that, when you call to it, comes to you the easiest, almost effortlessly.”
Farrah immediately raised her hand, straight and eager, like a student in a classroom, and Grandma nodded in her direction, urging her to ask her question.
“What’s your element, Nan?” Farrah asked, her voice brimming with curiosity.
It was a good question.
I knew my mother’s element was Air; she had spoken of it with a gentle reverence, but we had never truly delved into finding my own before she disappeared.
“I was blessed with the ability to master all except one,” Tilly replied, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her.
“Earth.
For some reason or another, that one is stubborn as ever with me.” She raised her hand, palms down, above the ground, and the earth beneath us gave a subtle, almost imperceptible shake.
Slowly, as if struggling, a tiny hill began to form, rising from the flat ground, resembling an ant hill in the making, no bigger than a teacup.
“See?” she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
“I was attempting to create a replica of the greenhouse, a perfect miniature, using the dirt, but instead, I get this.” It seemed my grandmother, despite her immense power, was a perfectionist, and it still bothered her that she wasn’t able to fully tap into earth magic.
“Now, I want you both to close your eyes and feel the wind on your skin.
We’ll attempt with Air first since it’s the easiest to access, as it’s all around you, constantly moving, constantly present.” I closed my eyes, and I was certain Farrah was doing the same beside me.
I felt the gentle caress of the wind in my hair, causing it to billow softly all around me, occasionally getting into my mouth, a whisper against my lips.
It didn’t bother me, though, as I was fully focused on reaching out to it with my mind, trying to sense its invisible currents.
Imagine it as a solid entity you can hold on to, a tangible presence.”
I imagined it to be a soft, silky piece of fabric, ethereal and flowing, yet with a subtle weight.
It moved and built all around me, caressing my skin, a gentle, invisible dancer.
“Raise one hand, palm up,” Grandma instructed, her voice guiding me, “and with the other, make gentle swirling patterns over your palm.
Feel the connection.” I felt something wet and cool fall onto my cheek and slowly slide down my face, but I ignored it, my concentration absolute.
“Now, the air you’ve made solid,” she continued, her voice gaining a new directive, “slowly transfer it onto your palm.
Picture it swirling around on your palm, a miniature vortex of your own making.
That’s it, Farrah, open your eyes.” I heard a soft squeak from beside me, and I knew Farrah had achieved an air manipulation, a small, controlled current on her palm.
Focusing intently on my own, I gently willed the ‘fabric’ of air over my palm and watched, or rather felt, as it began to swirl, a tiny, self-contained eddy.
Another droplet hit me, this time directly on my open palm, followed by more and more tiny drops of water that rained down on me, lightly at first, then with increasing intensity.
Soon, the air swirling in my palm was completely soaked by it, the invisible current becoming a visible, miniature storm.
“Genesis, stop!” I heard Grandma yell, her voice strained, barely audible over the sudden din of roaring wind that seemed to have materialized from nowhere.
I tried to stop, truly I did, but the air just kept swirling faster and faster, gathering momentum, until it had formed a powerful funnel of some kind, a miniature cyclone swirling above my hand.
“You need to stop.
NOW!
You are in control of what you are doing, Genesis, will it to stop!” I heard crashing sounds around me, the loud creaks and groans of the massive tree we were under as its branches bent and strained under an unseen force.
My eyes sprang open, wide with alarm, and I saw absolute chaos.
It wasn’t sunny anymore, but instead, the weather had changed drastically, violently.
A furious wind was tearing through the trees, snapping branches, and sheets of rain were pouring from the skies in a sudden, torrential downpour.
Both Farrah and Grandma were soaked to the bone, their clothes plastered to their bodies, their hair plastered to their faces.
But except for a few droplets of water that had splashed onto me, I was still completely dry, standing in the eye of my self-made storm.
Realizing that I was the cause of all of this, that my unchecked power had manifested in such a destructive way, sent me spiraling into a full-blown panic.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I immediately dropped my hands, balling them into tight fists, desperately trying to will everything to stop, to reverse the chaos I had unleashed.
Ever so slowly, the deafening noise surrounding me eased, the furious roar of the wind softening, and the rain began to lessen, becoming less forceful, more gentle.
I waited a few more moments, silently, pleadingly asking it to stop entirely, and I knew it had when I felt the warm kiss of the sun on my skin once more, a gentle reassurance.
I cracked open one eye, then the other, and saw that it had indeed stopped.
The air was calm, the rain had ceased, and the sun shone brightly.
Save for the fact that both Farrah and Grandma were standing there, soaked and disheveled, watching me with wide, stunned eyes, everything was back to normal, as if the localized tempest had never happened.
Farrah, ever the one to break an awkward silence, was the first to speak.
“Is it safe to say,” she asked, her voice still a little breathless, casting a significant look at Grandma, “she takes after you?”