“That’s very helpful. Both of you. Thank you,” I said, meaning every word.
“What’s it like being connected to this much magic?” Zorana asked, gesturing around the island.
Corvin spoke up. “Elvira’s magic is beautiful. I’ve seen her call forth moonlight.”
Zorana’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re just like Queen Minerva then. I was taught she wove her cloak in the shadow of the moon itself, on a rare day when the sun disappeared overhead. She could draw down the moon as well. It’s a very rare ability to possess, even in Adrasea.”
I looked at Zorana’s cloak with curiosity. “May I ask what you used to weave your own cloak?”
Her face tightened. “It’s a rather unpleasant story.”
“I’d like to hear it if you don’t mind sharing,” I responded gently.
“I was expected to weave my cloak in the shadow of our most sacred oak tree. My mother was a plant witch. A coven leader. All the members of our coven would do the same when they came of age.”
“But you had a different idea?”
“Not really. I mean, not at first. The day I went to weave my cloak, I sat down in front of the tree like everyone before me, expecting to weave its threads from the tree’s shadow. But there was an unexpected visitor nestled in its branches, a great horned owl perched above me. As I sat there, I found myself drawing in less and less of the tree’s shadow and more and more of the owl’s shadow instead. When I put on my cloak, partially woven from both, I found I could turn a regular tree branch into a broomstick, making it capable of flight. Not long afterward, that decision saved my life. I was able to fly away from Adrasea when we were attacked.”
“Attacked?” I gasped.
“It can be dangerous to lead a coven in Adrasea. Only a coven leader can call upon another witch’s abilities. It’s a powerful privilege. My mother was betrayed by a trusted friend and killed for her position. I fled the kingdom that same night at twelve years old. Maybe some small part of me understood the danger we faced. Maybe that’s why I was drawn to the owl’s shadow that day. I don’t know.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” I replied. “And for the loss of your mother.”
“Thank you. My broomstick is the only thing from my past that I still carry with me. It’s gotten me out of trouble too many times to count,” she said fondly.
“Yes, well, your skill with a broomstick certainly saved my life in that cavern,” I remarked.
Zorana’s voice was solemn. “It’s a skill that’s served me well.” She surveyed the island with another sweeping gaze before continuing to speak. “I can sense old magic, old spellwork permeating your island. Old…and very, very powerful. I wonder—do you have to renew its enchantments somehow?”
“I’m not certain. But my predecessors have all been laid to rest within the island cemetery,” I confided.
“Are you saying we’re surrounded by dead people?” Tercel interrupted, earning a playful shove from Farryn as they patiently listened in on our conversation.
Zorana scrunched her nose at Tercel before turning back to me. “This island is special. You’re lucky.”
I crouched down, laying my palm against the ground. If the land could cling to spellwork and spirits and magic and vows—what exactly did my island hold on to? Perhaps it clung to people’s dreams. Their pleas for help when there was nowhere left to turn. That was meant to be my burden, not just the history books lining my shelves. I was sure of it. “You must all think I’m a fool,” I murmured. “Living here with no clue about the island’s history.”
“I don’t think that,” Zorana said, looking at me kindly. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. My mother always used to tell me that ‘the magic doesn’t come from planting the seed; the magic comes from nurturing its growth.’ You’re building something here. You should be proud about that. If it takes some time, that’s alright.”
“I think you’re quite brave, trying to figure it all out on your own,” Farryn added.
“Thank you,” I replied quietly, my throat thick with emotion as I continued our tour of the island.
As we passed by the iron gate, I picked up my pace, knowing I had nothing to share about its purpose.
“What’s behind the gate?” Tercel inquired.So much for that plan.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t have the gate key.” It was embarrassing how little I could explain about my own home.
“You lost the key to the only gated area on your island?” he asked quizzically.
“Tercel!” Farryn and Corvin chided at the same time.
He held up his hands. “Sorry, Elvira. I didn’t mean anything by it. You really don’t know what’s inside?”
“The shrubbery is a dome. You can’t see inside at all,” I said a bit defensively.
