Page 40 of The Starlight Savior

“I’m sorry.”

Conor looked at her with a grim smile. “We’ve all become accustomed to a life where the mist can steal from us at any moment. It’s why we continue to fight, day after day. There isn’t a single person who isn’t impacted by it.”

Before Saige could respond, he continued through another set of stained glass doors and into an open room. As she followed, she looked up, breathless. The dome-shaped ceiling was tall, a mural of the seven deities painted on top of it. Light flooded through colored windows, each one depicting a different piece of lore of the creation of Opela. Saige recognized one or two, but the rest were foreign to her.

“Welcome!” A booming voice echoed off the ceiling. A man in long black robes stood in the middle of the room, hands crossed behind his back. His silver beard was trimmed neatly despite his balding head.

“Morning to you, Tobin.” Conor walked forward, gripping the man’s forearm in greeting. “You’ve heard of our witchling, I’m sure.”

Tobin looked toward Saige with a warm smile. Hand reaching forward, he grasped her arm, never breaking eye contact. “Of course. I’ve been looking forward to training a new pupil.”

“Well, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Saige glared daggers towards Conor. “I’m grateful for any help you can provide me.”

“There is no such thing as too difficult of a wielder, as long as we’re determined, open, and patient. I hope you can become all three!” Tobin stopped in the middle of the room, placing his hands behind his back once again. “Now leave us be, wolfling. I’m sure you’ve got a list of tasks your father set out for you, and we’ll be spending quite some time together today.”

Saige looked to Conor at the childhood name. But next to the maester, the only sign of discomfort was the tick of a muscle in his jaw. “Good luck.” He nodded towards Tobin and Saige before leaving through the doors they entered.

With Conor’s exit, the large room was silent. The blood rushing in her ears was the only sound she could focus on as she looked from Tobin to the artwork around her.

“What is this place?” Saige asked.

“Depends on who you ask.” Tobin began to walk around the room. “Some say it is a place of worship. Some find it a memorial to the deities who forged this world. Others see it as a place of peace or somewhere to practice their skill surrounded by the very beings that influence their power.”

“What is it to you?”

“Somewhere to learn.”

With that, she smiled. “I suppose that is what I’m here for.”

“And what would you like to learn today?”

Saige blinked. She hadn’t thought of where they would begin. She wanted to learn control. But control of what? Of herself? Of this magic she didn’t understand? “I don’t know where to start,” she spoke honestly.

“It was a surprise to hear that your father spoke very little of magic to you.”

“He spoke nothing of magic,” she corrected.

“And yet Oscar was an incredibly powerful warlock, even from a young age. He absorbed the magic of the storm quickly and excelled in the craft until his travels to Brevil. It saddens me there wasn’t a whisper of being able to have the control and skill your father once had. A disservice.”

Saige’s heart sputtered. “You trained my father?”

“I have trained almost every wielder that has walked through these castle doors for the last century. Including the very king you are now serving.”

Saige fought her look of surprise. She knew magic-wielders lived long, but a century?

“Why don’t we start from the very beginning.” Tobin pointed to the stained glass windows above them, the imagery telling the lore of the creation of Opela, the formation of the deities, and the influence of their different magic. “What do you know of our world?”

Saige looked up, the seven deities staring down at her from above. She only recognized the two most common stories shared. Brevil may despise and fear magic, but they recognized that it was the very thing that forged this world to an extent.

“The creation of Opela.” Saige pointed to the first stained glass window, a flurry of orange, yellow, silver, and white. The sun and moon sat high in the sky, overlapping into one another above the barren earth. Sydera, the Mother Goddess, was beautiful and made of glass. Skin as white as the moon, hair glittering as bright as the stars, eyes burning like the sun.

“She was plucked from the stars,” Tobin agreed. “The watchers of our world forged her to be the keeper of the land and the sky, the vessel to the stars, and the power around it.”

The skin around her neck tingled as she stared up, continuing alongside Tobin. “According to the lore, she used the power from the moon and starlight to carve the earth and form rivers and lakes, pushing to create mountains and valleys and peaks.”

“It is not lore, but our world.” Tobin tsked.