And this bloody, human-forged kingdom has clearly veered very far from the gods' original design.
“It's okay,” I tell her, frowning. “There's just a lot we need to figure out, isn’t there?”
Her tail continues to whisk back and forth, slicing a wide arc through the grass.
I can tell she needs to work out her frustration, so we move on, focusing on the things wehavestarted to figure out: Magic.
I'm still eager and hoping for a glimpse of whatever her deeper, specific divine powers might look like, but even the rudimentary magic she possesses is enough to keep me busy for now. I’ve found some useful books on the subject, and she’s opened up about her abilities over these past days, too; it seems like she’s discovering more about them herself as the two of us grow closer. Or remembering more about them, I guess; her past lives coming more into focus as she grows.
Together, we’ve unraveled the basic principles of how the simplest dragon magic works—how she’s able to pull energy from the atmosphere into her body, where it’s forged intosomething I can wield. Then it’s merely a matter of trusting her enough to let her channel it through me.
We’ve managed small displays of fire, water, and wind thus far. Different surroundings and different weather lead to varying results and spell strengths, though she can forge weak spells of almost any kind, at any time, with enough concentration.
Today, there’s a storm brewing in the distance. The dampness, the electricity in the air…whenever I’m connected to her, I feel these things in a way I never did before. Like I’m a part of them, a vessel ready to take them in, rather than just observing.
We start small—with water coaxed out of the heavy air and pulled toward Sesca’s heart, deepening the teal color of some of her scales to more of a sapphire blue. When she passes the manipulated water onward through our bond, it feels like ribbons curling through me, and this is how it emerges from my palm a moment later: As threads of silver blue that dance and twist around my fingertips.
Water is fast becoming my favorite thing to summon. It comes relatively easily to me, and letting it flow out always leaves me feeling calm and weightless afterwards, like I’m floating in a warm sea.
We’ve never truly attempted electricity before. But the static in the air today won’t be ignored; as the last bits of water evaporate from my hold, Sesca inhales, and her entire body seems to shiver and crackle with that static. Her wings and tail twitch erratically, as if she took in more than she actually meant to, and now she’s struggling to contain it—much lessshapeit.
For several moments, she doesn’t seem to want to release any of it into our bond.
Protecting me, maybe.
I can do this, I think, stubbornly.Trust has to go both ways.
Her normally golden eyes are the pale white of lightning as she fixes them on me. She takes several shallow breaths. With each of her exhales, I feel as if my body is charging, every nerve flaring to life, until finally…
A bolt of energy cracks through me like a sudden panic, wild and all-consuming for several seconds.
It exits through my hand with the same ferocity, leaving my fingertips white and my arm tingling for a long moment afterward. The jagged streak I release scorches several feet of ground; luckily the grass is damp enough not to catch fire.
The violence of it is the exact opposite of handling water. Staring at the scar it left, breathing hard, I’m reminded again of the duality of dragons that has always terrified and fascinated me—how capable they are of both chaos and creation.
We spend the next two hours alternating between these two facets of power, trying to become more comfortable with both.
Briar joins us eventually, just as the sun returns to chase the clouds away and I feel the energy in the air shifting to something more fiery. She flops down on her back, closing her eyes and crossing her hands behind her head. She’s spent all afternoon in the library, which is a feat as impressive as me wielding lightning bolts, given her attention span.
“Reading is exhausting,” she announces without opening her eyes.
Thin ribbons of water are circling my arm like bracelets. After directing them toward one of the large rocks I’ve been using as a target, I make my way over and sit beside Briar.
“Find anything interesting today?” I ask.
“Nothing I haven't already come across before, in someform or another. I'm afraid we might be close to exhausting the palace library's collection. And their shelves feel so very curated toward Mouren…I think we're going to have to search elsewhere for answers.”
I glance toward the defensive walls rising in the distance, thinking of my earlier conversation with Sesca.
“I believe you’re right.”
Briar slowly sits up, studying my face. “You look like you're scheming something.”
Because I am.
It was only a quiet seed of a plan earlier. But after hours of practicing magic, I’m humming with a charged restlessness, with more questions of power and possibility that won’t settle. “I want to pay a visit to the temple where Mouren's flame once burned,” I tell Briar.
She doesn't look overly thrilled at this plan, but she doesn’t argue. “Why do I feel like you've already made up your mind about this?”
