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The wolf cocked her enormous head to the side as though to say, And how is that a bad thing?

Areanel threw her arms up and shook her head. ‘You’re impossible!’

‘Areanel!’ Percival’s shout drew her attention.

Chapter 4

Percival

‘T

he fire started here.’ Percival explained to Areanel, strolling past the charred remains of wooden shacks as he made his way towards the village centre. He had noticed a V-pattern spreading from this area along the floor. ‘This points to the area of origin.’

‘This is nowhere near the male who shot at me.’ Areanel’s tone was contemplative as she crouched to examine the scorch marks.

Percival placed his palm flat against the dirt. There was no lingering heat, only the warm sensation of water turning the soil into mud. ‘I do not think this was natural.’

Areanel turned to him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Feel this,’ he said, guiding her hand to where his was moments ago. ‘It’s cool to the touch.’ The chill that ran up his arm was bone deep, icy and unnatural, prickling along his forearm and sending goosebumps chasing in its wake. There should have been some type of warmth left over from the fire they had just extinguished, but there was nothing. How odd.

‘What magic does this?’

‘I am unsure.’ Percival glanced around the scorched area. Destruction and waste were all that remained. ‘Perhaps we could combine our power to identify it?’ He turned to his sister and held out his hand, noting her slight hesitation in the tremble of her fingers before she curled them into fists, let out a calming breath and reached for his gloved hand.

He entwined his hand with his twin’s and closed his eyes. Focusing on the feel of warmth that glowed within his chest, he coaxed his power out of its hiding place and let the waves of glittering magic wash over his body until it felt like a soft, smooth film, like salty ocean air that clung to him like a second skin.

Pulsing, electric vibrations buzzed across his senses. In stark contrast, he knew Areanel’s power felt like a lightning strike—sudden and violent.

Their father had once told Percival that they had been blessed by the Elvadora—the gods had bestowed on them more of their magic than anyone else in Idyssa because of their parents’ loyalty. Percival hadn’t believed his father’s claims, though—everyone in Idyssa had access to magic. It was a part of them. A part of their souls. Even the humans, ever so few, could use their surroundings to pull magic left by the Elvadora. It lived within the very essence of the earth. Gods’ magic—divine and blessed—is what they called it. Still, the king liked to claim that Areanel and Percival’s magic was more potent—but that was not what Percival felt. His magic seemed different to others, yes. It was strange, almost overwhelming, and he didn’t need to use spells or ingredients—not like a certain mage he knew. His power resided in his soul. Like a slumbering panther, it lounged, bathing in the warmth of his being.

It took years of practice, and with the help of his many teachers, Percival was able to fashion and conjure his power. The scholars he studied under described gods’ magic as a mirror of one’s soul, with power mimicking a person’s natural makeup. That single thought is what Percival used to concentrate now. He called upon the magic within his soul and allowed Areanel’s to flow through him.

His sister may be his twin, but her power was anything but. Areanel’s felt blistering hot and prickled across his conscious. It was an odd sensation. Almost branding.

Flickering his gaze to Areanel, he saw how her eyes shadowed. A veil of darkness encompassed them entirely, devouring the once-bright cobalt hue until he could see his own eyes glaze over in their reflection.

A shining glow pulsed from their entwined hands.

Nothing.

Again, Percival pushed his power into Areanel using their joined hands as a conduit. Magic surged. It pulsed. Once. Twice—then fizzled out.

Strange. That had never happened before. There had always been some sort of reaction—almost like being bled dry. It was a give and take. Percival would open the floodgates to his power, and like a cyclone, Areanel’s magic would engulf and siphon his own. It often felt like his soul was being pulled from his body. Draining. Drinking. Snuffing out the light of his power until he was left curled over trying to gulp down heavy and desperate breaths.

But what it had never done was nothing.

It was odd to feel nothing at all.

‘I don’t understand.’ He turned his still-glazed eyes to his sister, though he could not guess what she was thinking from the impassive look on her face. ‘What is it?’

‘Something that should be long dead.’ Her tone sounded haunted—like she had seen a ghost. ‘It was definitely magic that started this fire. It feels otherworldly. Oily and thick. All-consuming, like it shouldn’t be here.’

Percival clenched her hand tighter, drawing her close. ‘Maybe we should—’

‘Sister!’ A high-pitched, cheery voice called out. Sevain, the twins’ older brother, jogged towards them. ‘I spoke with the villagers.’ Percival spotted the young nymph that trailed behind him—her sharp, pointed, childish features gave her species away almost immediately. ‘There is something you need to hear.’

The female wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to cocoon away from prying eyes and greedy hands. Percival knew the feeling all too well. He hadn’t realised his hand trembled until Areanel gave him a reassuring squeeze and took a step forward, shielding him with her body. Ever the protective sister, even though she was younger than him.