Page 95 of Fallacies

My eyes are shut, cut off from the lively forest around me, the soft morning light bleeding through my closed lids. As I dive inward, down to the place I’ve grown less fearful of over the last two weeks, the chirping of birds fades. Despite my growing comfortability with the descent, I still shiver when I reach the dark bottom.

Ever since my outburst the night Callan unveiled Ceres’s secrets, I’ve dedicated at least a full hour of my day to taming my father’s magic. I realized I was avoiding it because I didn’t want it to belong to me, and all it took was one close call for me to realize that was never really an option. It would never be an option. So, if I am to house a beast, I’d like to at least control its actions.

Pushing past the golden swirl of Sol magic, I unveil the darkness beneath it—a pitch-black void of seemingly nothing.

But I know better.

Letting out a deep breath, I urge it closer. “Come out.”

The void hisses at me, the light behind my closed eyes dimming.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I tell it. “Come out.” Plunging straight into the center, I pull and tug until its frigid bite tunnels into my veins.

Cold air fills my lungs. “I’m not afraid of you,” I repeat, mostly as a reminder, the tips of my fingers tingling with expectant magic.

My shoulders get heavy, but I’ve gotten used to the weight. I’m stronger now, mentally and physically, with all the training Callan has put me through. I’m grateful for the chance to build my strength. I know I’ll need it, but the extra hours in the Yard have also helped repair my relationship with my coven. We didn’t start from ground zero in the trust department, but there was certainly work to be done.

A rush of power surges forward before I’ve permitted it to, and I jolt at the sensation, smacking it back with more force.

My Sol magic was impatient, like a child running rampant through a sunny field, but my Rogue magic is akin to the monster that lives under the bed. It enjoys jumping out to scare me, and it likes doing so on its own terms, but I need to be the one to dictate when and how it manifests. It is my monster—I will unleash it whenever I please, and however I like.

A sharp crack splits the air, and my eyes snap open when a branch from a nearby tree falls, thudding to the ground. Rocks scatter down the creek bed, splashing into the shallow stream.

I grunt in frustration, tightening my hold on its core. “No,” I tell it, inhaling a full breath before trying again.

Resting my hands on my knees, palms up, I let the cold power saturate my skin. There’s resistance there, but I’ve worn it down over the last couple of weeks, stretched it thin, and in the process…gained some trust.

At least that’s what I hope it is.

In exchange for its cooperation, I let it burrow deeper into my skin. I’ve given it access to veiled parts of my soul and let it see who I am. I’ve shown it my demons, and it feeds on my darkest thoughts. Permitting it to explore has allowed me to understand it better, and revealing my secrets has helped it to understand me.

Rogue magic prods at my fingertips from the inside, a silent request to be set free, which is progress in itself. Though I’ve been fooled by it before.

Forcing myself to allow it some trust, I release my hold on it, my head knocking back at the expulsion of built-up pressure. The forest around me darkens, as if the sun has just gone behind a massive cloud, taking the crisp fall air with it. Goosebumps litter my skin, and my teeth begin chattering, thick black smoke pluming up the trunks of nearby trees. Dark magic clings to the bark, turning soft browns to deep charcoal, and the light grey stones along the creek bed fade to black.

When my magic creeps outside the boundary I’ve set for it, I pull back, relieved when it listens to the command and retreats—only an inch or two.

“Good,” I whisper, and it pulses against my skin at the praise. “Very good.”

More.

I shake my head. “No more.”

A low hiss fills my ears, but that’s the extent of its disappointment. It doesn’t rush up my throat anyway. It doesn’t burst from hands without permission…I’m far from being able to call it mine, but there is enough respect there that it doesn’t push the boundaries I’ve set—even when it wants to—and that’s progress.

Opening my hands, I drag the steady stream of power back into my skin and pause when the smoke begins to change shape. Shadows shift over nearby rocks, rising through the air like a stream of smoke, and my eyes narrow when a small blackbird materializes in front of me.

As soon as the image sharpens, it tucks its wings and dives down, gracefully perching itself on the top of my knee.

Its beady eyes blink at me, and I tilt my head to the side, staring back.

I’ve never seen a darker shade of black—its feathers so dark they’re almost purple. The nails on its feet are sharper than needles, the tips pinching into my skin but not enough to draw blood.

It’s honestly quite…beautiful. Not the magic itself but the way it manifests. The way something so evil could be packed into the body of something so…innocent.

Leaning closer to get a better look, there’s a knowing glint in its dark eyes as I study it.

“You aren’t so bad, are you?”