Fey waved her hand and a jade table materialized between us. On it she spread out a long, ancient scroll. She traced her delicate fingers across the Akkadian symbols inscribed in the scroll, occasionally lingering on a few symbols only long enough to draw my attention to them.
"The scribes of my clan use the same word for magician as they do king. This is because magic, at its most basic, is a power to bend reality to ones will— a power to rule even over the fabric of the collective existence. To be begin I will hand you a scroll. And using your own magical reserves, you will write a divine word of your choice on it. When spoken, the word will take form and shape."
True to her words, she handed a scroll and quill to me.
"I don’t get it," I admitted, feeling very dumb.
"A simple word to begin," she patiently encouraged. "Anything you can imagine."
I thought for a moment. "A snake?"
Fey pursed her lips. "You may try. But pseudo- living beings are difficult. Even the best magicians may spend centuries learning to animate the tiniest creature. But the word of creation does exist, however you must be very careful .. ."
She pointed to the word on her scroll, and I drew it the best I could on the blank scroll she had given me.
The ink screamed
"What the-"
Before Fey could finish an enormous serpent burst of the page — twelve feet long and as big around as a small tree —with dark grey scales an glowing red eyes.
It lunged at the astounded Fey, who reacted just in time and held up her palm against the incoming serpent. The snake wailed disintegrated into ash like it was being burned by an invisible flame.
As soon as my amazement subsided, the world spun and my vision blurred. "Why am I so tired?" I wondered.
It was a while before Fey answered. "You’re new to channeling magic, your reserve of magical power is in it’s juvenile stage"
’Usually. . .such advanced magic takes decades at the earliest to learn. By that time, the body has usually adapted to the increased demand in magical energy.
Never before has there been a case where mastery is so instaneous.’ Her brow furrowed as she spoke, like what I had done was beyond her understanding.
She continued. "Maybe animation is too taxing. Try something that comes more naturally to you. Like illusion and dark magic do to me. Summon something closer to your heart."
’Close to my heart...’ I repeated inwardly.
It didn’t take me long to choose. My eyes somehow found the divine word for it on Fey’s scroll, even without her pointing it out to me.
I inked out the word on the page.
’Wait don’t-’ For some reason, Fey panicked and attempted to stop me. But it was too late, I completed the word.
I channeled my magical reserves more intently this time. It was a strange feeling: like willingly pouring out energy from my soul.
I remembered the last words my mother had gifted me with as my soul left the tree of memories, naming the emotion I had felt above all else— my heart’s desire:
"Peace."
The glyph burned in front of me— tiny but bright like a firefly:
The world suddenly shone brighter.
For a brief moment, the sea of death calmed and the broiling of the red ocean subsided.
Even the heavy aura of ruin and resentment had begun to recede.
The runes on the hull of the boat glowed brighter, resonating with the calm I had summoned.
I felt the destructive forces receding from us.
Then I promptly collapsed.
My awareness returned slowly to me.
For the most part, my vision was stil hazy when I woke.
Fey’s divinely beautiful face was the first thing I saw.
However, her celestial countenance was ashen with shock. "You. You actually summoned —"
’Yes I’m fine by the way. Thanks for asking.’ I grumbled.
"I would never have believed it," Fey said."No mortal magician has ever been able summon an abstract— and on their first try no less."
I had no idea what she meant. I decided It didn’t really matter much to me. I was tired of this restricted space.
I tried to stand, only to wobble and fall.
Fey caught me— the motion was as exceedingly careful as it was fluid— like she was handling a priceless treasure.
She supported me on my way out of the hut until we were on the deck and I could stand by myself again.
As I stared at the surging red wave and fought back the sea sickness, her gaze was fixed on me.
"What are you thinking?" I asked curiously.
She looked deep into my crimson eyes, entranced, and then blurted what I figured was the truth.
"I’m trying to figure out what you are."
I laughed uproariously. "Are you having any luck with that?" I asked with humour still dancing in my eyes.
"Not at all," She admitted.
I chuckled. "Really? I astonish even you. A half- dragon sorceress?"
Her face was still locked onto mine— deep in concentration like I was the most profound mystery in the world.
"What are you thinking now?" I asked again.
She inclined forward until our noses almost touched. "Your meta ability. What is it?’
I was taken aback for a moment.
I had expected such a question.
But soon enough, I nodded, accepting her request— stretching open my palm.
A ball of fire burned serenely above it.
It started out white-hot before slowly deepening into blue as I turned up the heat.
The ability was effortless to me now.
And for a while it burned intensely.
Fey watched the flame crackle in my palms.
And while I allowed the fire’s intensity to dim, the blue flame regressed back into its white incarnation.
But the change did not stop there:
As the flame shrunk it donned a new color:
a pale gold.
Then even that changed into a deep orange, before finally sputtering out as a dull scarlet.
I would have paid this seemingly normal change no attention. But then, when I saw what the fire had become, my pupils constricted into dots. . .
As the flame finally turned scarlet and wilted, it’s form, color, tenor, and even its scent had become identical to a particular flame from my memories:
The flames of the fire meta!
I was sure because I bore the power of flame now. No two sources of flame ever gave birth to identical fires. That our flames were Identical could only mean one thing . . .
’But how? . . .’ I thought, my mind reeling from the horrible realization.
"And you’ve had this power since birth?" Fey’s question finally shook me out of my reverie.
"No," I corrected woodenly, "It awakened in me during the battle."
Her brows furrowed deeper. "That makes no sense. If it really was your innate power, why would it awaken only then? Why was it silent . . .the other times your life was in danger? And why did you entirely fail to call upon it during your human life?" Her questions sunk me deeper into an abyss of doubt.
Next Chapter Title: Poisoned