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She glimpsed his smile, a faded image over the surrounding darkness. “Two decades ago. He found the key by accident and was dying. He decided to have one last adventure.”
“And he gave the key to the witches?”
There was another smile, and it dawned on her that perhaps there was more than one key. Before she could ask, he spoke once more.
“Shall I take a look at you, child?”
Just like that, all ruminations of the dying man were forgotten as she understood what he was requesting.
“Yes.”
His hand hovered over her, not quite resting. She felt his energy vibrating from his body, a calm, fascinating thing that didn’t seem to have any intention of invading. When it did reach out to tap and brush against her, it just felt like a friendly hand giving her a light pat. His silver orbs gleamed brighter.
“You want what you lost.”
“I want what I should have had since I was born,” she corrected. At some point, it had gotten blurry whether she had lost her abilities or just hadn’t gotten them as most Fae had. “I want what my kin have and more. I want to realize my full potential like they are doing now after our family’s curse was lifted.”
“But you are not like them.”
“I know. I’m weaker, but I will work hard.”
“No. You are stronger. You will surpass all of them in the long run.”
“What?”
“It’s that rare, ancient line running through your veins, slumbering for so long. Is this your true wish, child? For me to unlock it?”
The astonishment prevented her from answering right away, swimming in her mind as she absorbed his words. He had to be lying, but then…what did he gain from lying? Daria examined him back, his expression that of a patient waiting. Determination blossomed inside her until it hurt. So did nerves, but the former was stronger.
“Yes. Please, unlock my potential. That’s what I’m here for.”
He closed his eyes, and nothing happened. Daria didn’t know what to expect next, but the lack of action made her shift her weight from one foot to another and subtly wiggle her toes to shake off bad thoughts. Why did they keep coming? Trickles at first, they became a steady flow that gushed out of her, unstoppable. Then it clicked.
“You are easing my mind.”
“My power doesn’t mesh well with negativity.” He left it at that, unfazed. But when her mind was blank, the pleasant expression dropped, and a frown formed. “Have you ever killed someone?”
What?
“Not that I know of.”
The frown dimmed. He paused some more, leaving her baffled and internally screaming. Then a finger pressed against her chest, and it felt like being stunned with the greatest charge of electricity, then…nothing.
Daria gawked at him, waiting for more. When none came, and he just stood there, she cleared her throat.
“What’s next?”
“See for yourself.”
She looked at him, seeing the same. She fluttered her eyes repeatedly and it was still the same, eliciting impatience and the need for answers. Daria looked away to gather her bearings and compose herself with polite, effective questions—and in the blink of an eye, her world changed.
She could see the temple and the clouds, faint lines but with their colors visible. She spun and glimpsed five smudges, clearer than they had been in her life of blurry lines. Diego was tall, taller than she had assumed, and Sona just exuded so much elegance with her pose. Riva was tiny and Oscar was fit, but Charlie…he wastall, fitter, and dressed in the drabbest brown out of the four. A laugh gurgled in her throat before it dawned that while she could see colors, nothing was crystal clear. And she couldn’t see anything beyond their necks.
She couldn’t see his face. She wanted to see his face.
The bald man spoke as if reading her mind. “It will come slowly. You have to understand that giving you what you want all at once will result in your body combusting. It can’t handle that much.”
“I understand. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Overwhelmed, she repeated it twice more. On impulse, she took his hand and caught him off guard. “What can I do to repay you?”
