Page 160 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

She is a constant shadow at my side, coaxing a power out of me that feels less like a gift and more like a caged predator. Sweat beads on my forehead, my muscles locking against the strain. My magic is a dam, and I’m terrified that if it cracks, the flood will swallow everyone I love.

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes, “I can’t!”

I’ve already burned through everything they’ve thrown at me. Walls of ice, illusions, I even managed to blow a whole tree apart.

Finn raises a hand in my peripheral as he moves to my side. “Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way. We need to focus on aiming and control.”

The orb in my hand feels like it's still humming with residual power. I glare at it like it's the problem, not me. Then again, I feel lost, like I don’t even know what I’m doing.

“Have you tried shaping your magic?” he asks.

“Shaping?” I deadpan. I can’t control my magic, and they want me to shape something. I almost burst out laughing.

Finn studies me for a moment. “I want you to find your magic within yourself first.”

I close my eyes, finding that place where my magic originates in my chest. “Okay. Got it.”

“Good, now I want you to imagine drawing it into a single dagger. Picture the dagger in your hand and let your magic pour into it.”

Gods, why did I ever think this would be easy? Growing up, I watched plenty of people learn to wield their magic. They had all made it seem so easy. I can remember asking my father how he warded things.

He had studied me for a moment before taking my hand in his, kneeling before me. We stood in front of a village that had broken out with a mysterious illness. The wards had kept them secluded until everyone had been declared healed. I had gone with him to watch him remove them, not put them up.

He had placed my small hand over his forehead, pressing it there like he had a fever. He told me that magic originates in different areas of the body. For him, his magic was in his head. He had to think it, and it would be so. He could bend the wards to his will, moving and shaping them with a single thought.

When I had asked my mother about where her magic originated, she had told me her stomach. She said she would connect to the deep part of herself, feeling her magic bloom like a flower. She pictured strands of magic pouring into her hands and into the soil.

After that, I stopped asking. Both of them made it seem like common sense. And maybe the Lumos Bond magic is. After all, the Lumos magic was really meant to power the Veil.

My heart aches thinking about my parents, my home. I miss Kyrr. For all the wonders here on Auralis, I miss the familiarity of home—even if it comes without magic. Thinking about the fact that it may be destroyed when I return makes me sick to my stomach.

Pushing away those thoughts, I refocus on my magic. I picture one of the throwing knives I’d become accustomed to at school. Lightweight, easy to hold in my small hands. I picture the hilt, solid and sturdy. The blade itself, sharp and lethal.

I feel my hand open like I’ll somehow actually be able to do this, but I’ll never know if I don’t try, and I need to try, even if it seems silly or impossible, because there’s a war coming and I can’t fail my people.

We’ve been at it for a while, but I feel like I’m getting closer. My arm burns, a searing heat trickling down to my palm as if I am pouring molten lead into a mold of my making. When I open my eyes, the air hums. I can’t fight the grin that overtakes my face.

The dagger isn't metal, but it is ethereal starlight trapped in indigo glass, the hilt ending in a moonstone crescent that glows with a soft, lunar pulse. It feels surprisingly heavy, a physical piece of my soul given a sharp edge.

I glance up to find Finn with a satisfied smile on his face and Moira with her jaw hanging open. I look down at my palm again, gripping the hilt and testing its weight. It feels like a normal dagger except for the resonant hum of magic.

I toss it around and then aim, throwing it toward the tree trunk. I feel weightless when it embeds itself into the trunk before disappearing, leaving a hole in its place.

“Let’s see what else you can make,” Finn says with a contagious grin.

Turns out nothing.

Any weapon larger than the dagger, I can’t get right. Still, I can’t be upset when I made a dagger of starlight.

A gateway opens near the edge of the field, halting our training for the day.

At the first glance of Ciara, I take off running, tears already burning in my eyes. It’s strange. I’ve barely seen her lately, but now, everything is different, and gods, I miss her so much.

I crash into her, my hands squeezing her back and feeling…

I pull away to find her smiling at me.

I blink once. Twice, clearing my vision. My breath hitches in my throat.