But this?
How does one take magic and force it into something else?
Rationally, I understand that it is possible. After all, I used blessed salve and touched the magic-infused rubies under the mountain. Both are proof it can be done.
But knowing something is possible and trying to replicate the process when less than half a year ago I didn’t even know I possessed magic, is very different.
Even though he’s sharpening his sword, I can feel Gabriel’s attention on me. I look over, and the skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles encouragingly in my direction.
I take a deep breath, studying the coin once more. I need to do this, and quickly. I can’t help but shake the sensation that we are running out of time, that I must learn this as soon as possible.
The Giving Season is fast approaching.
“Will you show me how it’s done?” I ask.
A physical demonstration might help me wrap my mind around this, allowing me to replicate the results.
“Of course.” Jasper pinches the coin between the index finger and thumb of his right hand, brows knitting as he concentrates on it. In his left hand, navy blue sparks burst into life, forming a flame.
Last week, I asked the brothers about the color of our Marks.
Every person’s magic has a different hue, Soren had patiently explained.
They’re like fingerprints, Jasper had added.Unique to each person. No one has the same Mark as someone else.
Unique. A rainbow of colors, gifts from the gods.
Or at least, that’s what they’re meant to be. But thanks to the Harvests, that’s not the reality. Instead, we have colorful Marks that shine brightly as we die, our bodies all bleeding the same crimson hue.
Silver knives. Screams. Flashes of light. Blood.
The Given stick together.
But being Given is a curse, and I need to focus on this. On being Blessed and using my magic the way it was intended before it’s too late.
Pulling my mind away from the death that was my destiny, I focus on Jasper.
The Marked rebel brings his hands closer together, leaving a few inches between them. His flame lengthens, bridging the gap, licking the bottom of the coin.
For a few seconds, nothing seems to happen. Then he flicks his left wrist. The fire jumps from his hand, swallowing the coin, before vanishing into the object. The token shines brightly, almost pulsing, before it returns to its natural state.
“Take a look.” Jasper extends the now-silver coin towards me. “Can you feel the magic? Hear its hum?”
Placing my own coin in my lap, I take Jasper’s as Gabriel scoots closer. I roll the token through my fingers, pursing my lips. At first glance, it seems normal. Maybe a little colder than I’d expect, but not enough that holding it becomes uncomfortable.
It takes a moment, and I have to concentrate, blocking out the sounds of the forest and the camp, but I pick up a slight hum.
I flick my eyes to Jasper. “I can hear it, but it’s pretty quiet.”
Not nearly as loud as the rubies were under the mountain.
He doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s because there isn’t much magic in it. The more an object holds, the louder the hum.”
“And only the Blessed can hear it?” I confirm.
“That’s right.”
I rub the rough edges. “So the magic is it trapped in here?”
