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“What would we be doing?” I asked, not questioning why Aiden knew all that. I just added one more thing to the list of things we’d all be discussing.
“Magic has been slowly disappearing since before the Great War, but somehow, over the last twenty or so years, citizens have succumbed to the magic sickness at higher rates, and even more than that have sought out healers because they’re unable to access their elements as well. Our people need a cure. Aidan has been finding old and forgotten manuscripts and compiling research. You would help him sift through this information and accompany him.”
I knew the magic had been declining. Everyone knew that. I wasn’t aware there was an increase in frequency of late. And the capital didn’t get magic sickness since we weren’t really affected by the curse or whatever was going on, so that was also news to me. It only happened to people whose magic deserted them.
“How are you quantifying this?”
“Our organization has been compiling information from healers’ records going back more than one hundred years. Before that, it was mostly word of mouth. The records speak for themselves.”
Milo pointed to the shelves by the table, haphazardly overflowing with books, bound manuscripts, and loose paper. Boxes overflowing with canisters and rolled parchment lay beside it. It looked like an exercise in balance, everything precariously perched in such a way that touching one thing, the whole thing would collapse. Goddess, doesn’t that feel like a metaphor for our lives right now?
“I’d like to stand now and retrieve those records. You can look for yourself. Or will your,” Milo paused for dramatic effect, letting the words hang in the air, “friendtry to attack again?”
E.Z. growled. Milo was not only taunting him with his words but his magic. And if the gleam in Milo’s eyes said anything, he knew it. Milo was easily the most powerful Water User I had ever encountered, and he wasn’t concealing that power in any way. If anything, he surrounded himself in it and pushed it toward us. I could feel it gathering around us, ready for Milo to direct.
This had E.Z. and me reacting very differently. I was soothed by the feel of his magic, my affection growing the longer I made contact. E.Z. took his display of power as a challenge, and my veins hummed with his darker energy even as feelings of familiarity warred inside my head.
I wouldn’t attack, but I wanted to. I didn’t even want to use magic. I wanted the satisfaction of punching Milo with my bare hands, to feel the connection of my knuckles.
I looked up at E.Z., begging him to calm down. He held my gaze, a moment passing between us. I assured him I was fine and he could calm down. And he was begging me to forgive him. I told him we’d talk. He nodded, still holding my eyes.
Milo’s chair creaked as he stood, dragging me out of the moment. I took a deep breath and watched him walk to the bookshelf and peruse it. He fingered through leather journals until he found whatever he was looking for and went back searching for more, piling several on the desk.
He talked while he looked, stalling his speech intermittently as he read, making me want to beg him to get to the fucking point of all this so we could leave. Well, it made E.Z. want to beg. He really didn’t like Milo, and even he seemed a bit confused by how much.
“One hundred and fifty years ago, thirteen percent of the population reported problems with their magic. One hundred years ago, that percentage rose to twenty-two percent. Fifty years ago, twenty-seven percent. Now, sixty-four percent of our citizens have made complaints. The same goes for the magic sickness reports. There doesn’t seem to be any real significance tied to the type of element they possess or the region they reside.” Milo looked over at us. “Except when compared to the capital and the Fire Users. They were not affected. It shows reports of Fire Users requesting healers, but not a single case because of these symptoms. No one from the capital has complained, or they’re not reporting. Either way, still drastic increases everywhere else.” A second tube of parchment was added to the pile before he lifted one of the leather-bound books he’d added to the table and flipped through. “You’re not coming? I’ll show you. The numbers are all here.”
I looked at E.Z., making sure he wouldn’t freak out if I stood up. He seemed tight but somewhat more relaxed. I also didn’t feel sick anymore, so I think he’d gotten himself under better control. We maintained eye contact for a moment too long to be considered appropriate before I rose to stand.
I joined Milo at the table. E.Z. trailed one step behind the entire way before standing quietly with his back to the wall, letting me run the meeting. I sent him an appreciative and reassuring smile before accepting the well-worn brown leather journal Milo handed me.
“This is a detailed analysis since we started to record. It’s organized by the region an individual resides in, element type, and total by year. Very clear to see the trend,” Milo explained, indicating the other two books he had piled on the table. He had an excited gleam in his eyes—the same gleam in the same eyes that Aiden had when he explained the cause. “These are the actual records, minus the analysis if you’d rather see that. It’s all there going back almost two hundred years.”
“How do you plan to find the cause or cure when no one has been able to do that for five hundred years?” I asked, flipping through the journal.
They took detailed records and had precise analyses, showing exactly what he explained. Everywhere was getting worse except the capital. Everyone was getting worse except the Fire Users.
“Aiden’s been visiting temples on his travels, hoping to find books, documents, or scriptures that weren’t destroyed. He’s been lucky, at times, finding a decent collection of information, but most temples have been burned or looted at this point. The remaining are heavily guarded.” Milo’s jaw firmed. “The key is finding obscure temples. The ones that aren’t commonly frequented. They’re less likely to have been looted or destroyed. Sometimes, Aiden finds something useful in the rubble. We won’t give up. And he’s already made great progress in his research. He’ll go over all he’s accomplished. It’s quite remarkable.”
“Bet the rebels wish they hadn’t burned down the temples now,” I said off-handedly, my eyes still scanning the analysis.
In retrospect, it was an insensitive comment— not only was the world suffering, but he wasn’t responsible for what his ancestors had done any more than I would be. My brain wasn’t working adequately with E.Z. inside it, and my emotions were still all over the place.
“The rebels did not destroy the temples. Adaria’s first and mighty King Maliki did.” Milo’s eyes flared, but his anger wasn’t directed at us. “The people flooded the temples in droves following the Great War, bringing offerings they couldn’t afford, trying desperately to win the Goddess’ favor, but the priestesses assured them that the Goddess was not cursing us.” Milo took a breath, grinding his jaw. “The most powerful Spirit Users of their time promised that the Goddess was not taking away our magic. Those priestesses were silenced and burned along with the temples and every book, journal, or scripture that could contradict the king’s new order. What emerged from the flames was not the same religion. The Goddess was still the figurehead but had a completely different set of ideals. It paved the way for the kingdom we have today, one that only works for the elite and doesn’t provide for its citizens in any way.”
“How is it possible that no one knows about this?” I asked, mouth agape. “Wouldn’t it have been written in history books or —”
“The people know what they want us to know. The powerful wrote the books.” Milo looked me in the eye, driving home his point. “A set of Elders hand-picked by King Maliki replaced the priestesses and rewrote the scripture. They called it a different interpretation, one better suited for our newly formed kingdom. It was bullshit. Then they metaphorically locked the only remaining Spirit Users left in the entire kingdom inside a temple built inside a fortress. Who’s to say the Goddess didn’t tell them everything they wrote?” Milo’s face hardened, speaking through gritted teeth. “Spirit Users can’t come forward. When they do, they are immediately corralled at the capital for ‘their own protection,’ never to be seen or heard from again.” Milo inhaled deeply through his nose. “Over time, with each new interpretation they wrote, the kingdom became more and more as the people in power wanted it to be—growing into a society that only benefited the elite.”
I didn’t try to control the shock or disgust over these revelations. They were sickening and grotesque. And not at all what the capital teaches or what I read in history books. If what Milo said was true, the king burned our entire culture to the ground.
“The total grasp of control that the king and council have now is not how it was five hundred years ago,” Milo continued. “King Maliki combined a land of four separate war-ravished countries. He promised his family would help them rebuild, then would oversee a unified, powerful kingdom of separate regions that mostly govern themselves. He and a council would oversee disputes and govern overall. The Kingdom of Adaria was born. At the time, the people had no choice but to trust him to rebuild their lands and trust him to govern them properly. Two councilors of each element represented their regions. For a while, things went exactly as he promised. Clearly, that is not the case anymore. The ‘Fire is supreme’ position didn’t occur overnight; that came with time. People are inherently greedy. Even with seemingly unlimited power, more was still needed.”
Milo summarized how the country was governed, both then and as time progressed, with our heads bent over the same book, expanding on the evaluation of Adaria. How the council became less about representing the people and more about the elite. How the regions began to collectively care for themselves separate from Fire while still paying tax for that privilege.
Milo’s enthusiasm as he passionately explained his cause was contagious, and I found myself asking more and more questions, wanting to know everything. He gave me a detailed understanding of how Adaria changed with time, and it all sickened me.
Milo’s speech grew faster and more animated with each piece of information he shared, his mannerisms so similar to Aiden’s when he explained the cause that it seemed so clear once I was really looking. Aiden was Milo’s son. Aiden was my Keeper. This afternoon, I had an orgasm in one of his friend’s laps. Goddess, what the fuck was I going to do?
