by S A Edwards
The girl smiled when I stepped out, and started down the hall, past floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the desert dunes.
“Are you ready?” she asked. “I was so excited to see the Refiner Capital. I’d heard all about it, of course, but seeing it is completely different, you know? It’s a shame we can’t go to the Capitals of the other Mage, but I doubt it would be as fun. They’re not Refiners, you know?”
She led me through a door and onto a narrow bridge. The height made my stomach flip. Aside from the overhang, my experiences didn’t include facing heights. White desert stretched far into the distance, heat ripples shifting in the air. Heat beat down on me, and the protection the clothing provided immediately became clear. My skin would burn after a short time of exposure to the sun but for their thin cover. Still, I was sweating in moments.
“It is hot here, though,” the girl said. “I think that’s why the test’s so hard, you know? You look very young. I mean, obviously, you’re the same age as me. How could you not be? But you look young for our age.”
I kept my gaze on my feet, wary of the drop only a step to either side. If I strayed just a little …
“I didn’t catch your name.”
I peered at the girl. Her focus was on me, her hand hovering above the handle of another door.
“Oh …” I slipped around her and back into the shade. “I’m Clara.”
She led me down the hall. “I’m Bonfie. Where do you come from? I’m from Araphel. Have you ever been there? It’s nice. Small.”
A wide set of stairs led down, and then we were outside again. The heat hadn’t eased. If anything, it was worse. My feet sank into the sand, and I finally understood the need for the boots. Without them, the searing grains would have burned my skin. A sharp scent touched my nose. Burning. Ash.
The walls of the castle gleamed in the sun, grains clinging to every inch of the side. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the whole structure was made of sand.
I paused, reaching out to the surface, and ran my fingertips across it. Sand trickled to the ground, and then hissed, growing back in its place.
Fascinating.
“I’d like to see the City,” Bonfie continued.
I hurried to catch up.
“I’ve heard stories,” she said. “It’s meant to be huge. The Preservers intrigue me. If I wasn’t a Refiner, maybe I’d like to be one of them. I imagine they’re like Refiners, but they make ice instead of fire. Though, I’m not sure how they stand the cold, you know?”
I withheld a sigh. I suppose they’re real, too. A Preserver would be preferable now. Maybe their ice would help with this awful heat.
The woman from last night stood ahead on a dune, red eyes penetrating mine. A single, ruby streak adorned her dark hair.
“Thank you, Bonfie,” the woman said.
Bonfie smiled at me and whispered, “Good luck,” before heading back to the castle.
A pile of blackened wood smoked, several paces from us.
“Clara,” the woman greeted me. “I trust you slept well?”
“I think so.”
She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I’m afraid we didn’t get chance for introductions last night. I’m Vitora, Elder of the Refiners.”
“The flames …” I balled my fists, gazing at my clear skin. “What did you do?”
“I suppressed them, enough to last the night. I’m afraid the magic will take hold again soon. It was a blessing Orator brought you to me when he did.”
“I hurt him. His arm …” He would never be the same again once the scarring set in. Because of me. I sniffed. This time yesterday I had been on my way to training with Charlie and Lallana, never expecting my life would turn out like this.
“Don’t you worry. Orator is fine. We have the good fortune of knowing an excellent Healer.”
Her words washed some of my guilt away. “What happens to me now? Can I go back to the village?”
“Out of the question.”
“Why not?”
“It is no longer protected. The moment the Gate opened, the magic fell, and the Seekers were alerted to your presence.”
“The Seekers? They killed Matriarch.”
“I heard. My condolences.”
“What do they want with me?”
“Not just you, brightness. All the Beasts. They are enemies of the Council. The Council govern the land in the main City and assign the Hunted to the Seekers.”
“But why are the Beasts enemies? What did they do?”
“Now, that’s a long story, and our priority is teaching you to control your flames, before anyone else gets hurt.”
I frowned.
She waved her hand, and the air shuddered. “First, we need the required emotion. So, are you ready to do this again?”
“Again?”
“You won’t remember.”
“I don’t understand.” Flames leapt up across my hands. I hopped back, heart thudding.
“Clara, calm down.” She spoke softly.
I shook my hands. The flames only spread, prancing across my sleeves, not burning the fabric. “I can’t stop them!”
“Clara, look at me.”
I obeyed, trying to reel back my fear.
She stood relaxed, feet parted, fingers intertwined.
“Suppress them again,” I pleaded.
The corners of her lips twitched.
I balled my fists. This wasn’t funny.
“You need to control them,” she said.
“But –”
“Listen to me.”
I fell silent at the authority in her voice. Heat prickled, creeping up my arms.
“You’re safe here,” she said. “You can hurt no one, least of all me. Every gift is controlled by an emotion. Master that, and you master the gift.”
“Orator said that.”
She nodded. “As he should. The emotion of a Refiner is knowledge, or in your case, confusion. You lack understanding; therefore, you lack control. Close your eyes.”
I obeyed.
“Listen to my voice. To the beat of your heart. To the sound of the desert.”
“Sounds? In the desert?”
“Don’t speak. Listen.”
The crackle of my flames filled the silence. My pulse pounded in my ears. As for the sound of the desert, well, there was none. Unless … a gentle whoosh, a light breeze, unfeeling on my face. I wasn’t sure that counted.
“You have questions,” she said. “The world holds the answers. Open your eyes.”
I expected to find my flames extinguished. Nothing had changed. Tingling continued all across my arms.
Vitora had moved. She stood to my left, her back to me, facing the burnt wood. She raised her hand, and blue flames leapt up over it, dancing in a perfect ball. They soared from her, slamming into the charred ashes, lighting them like paper.
I’d thought they were beyond any further capacity to burn, yet they crackled like fresh firewood. The heat reached me, intense in the close proximity. I stepped away.
“Don’t move,” Vitora ordered, her back still to me.
She turned. “The flames of a Refiner burn orange. A torch or homestead fire burns the same. Orange is a weaker version of the heat that we create.” Her gaze moved to my flames. “When they’re blue, they can reach the highest temperature, achieve the highest potential. Very few Refiners have achieved that level of power.”
“Why have I?”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve used your gift,” she said.
My brow furrowed. My flames grew.
“Many years ago, you came here. I trained you. You took the test and passed.”
“No. I’ve spent my life in the village.”
“Only this life. Each time you return, your memories are erased.”
“What do you mean ‘only this life’? I’ve been here more than once?”
“Oh, yes. And each time, your flames rage further out of control.”
“No. You must have me mistak
en for someone else.” My flames grew. My chest tightened. Sweat dripped down my cheeks.
She scowled. “There is no mistake. Six times you have been here. Six times you have died. This is your last chance.”
8
My flames erupted, spreading across the sand, sizzling, hissing. Pain shot through my body, tearing at my muscles. It knocked me to my hands and knees, the fire roaring around me.
Vitora’s voice resounded over the chaos. “Your final test –”
“No! I can’t do this. I can’t control it …” I could barely breathe. Heat pushed against my chest, crushing it. “It’s … too hot!”
“Clara, you know all of this –”
“No!”
“You’ve done it before.”
“Then I don’t remember!” This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Her infuriating insistence helped nothing. Things just got worse.
“Listen to me.” Vitora stood outside the reach of my flames, her lips pressed together. “A Refiner doesn’t control the flames. We control the heat. Now, concentrate. What three things are required to create fire?”
I fought to think, to pull away from the uncontrollable prickling sensation. “Heat, fuel, and oxygen.”
“Good. And what happens when you remove one of them?”
“The fire dies.” I gasped for breath and grasped at the grains beneath my fingers.
“Now think,” she ordered, “what is the fuel?”
I opened my mouth to say “wood” but hesitated. Something tugged at my mind. The true answer. Something from my forgotten past. “My emotion.”
Vitora smiled. “Extinguish it.”
I closed my eyes against the light whirling around me, and imagined my emotion, a fuzzy ball of blue at the front of my mind. I focused on it, grabbed it, shoved it to the side.
I relaxed, and the pain eased.
The cooling sensation when she suppressed my gift last night returned to mind, and I clung to it, willing it to spread from my centre, across my arms, through my hands and fingers.
The heat lessened.
I opened my eyes and pushed it further, down my torso, my legs, my feet.
The flames flickered, ebbed, and then diminished until there was nothing left but wisps of smoke on my pale skin. My clothes remained untouched.
Running my fingers over the sleeve, I marvelled at the lack of damage, and then peered up at Vitora. “How?”
She smiled and pulled me to my feet. “Magic. Made specifically for Refiners. Now,” She gestured to the fire across the sand, still alight on the blackened wood. “Put the fire out.”
Grasping again at the coolness within me, I pushed out toward the flames, willing them to lose heat.
They dimmed.
I pushed harder, forcing out the warmth, denying it the essential ingredient it needed to thrive. It licked toward me in rebellion, and then died.
Smoke curled from the charred wood. Ash drifted to the sand. The pungent scent prickled my nose.
The skin under my crystal tingled. The pendant sparkled fire-red, the same shade as Vitora’s pendant. For a moment, they were identical, then it faded and became clear once more.
“Why does it do that?” I asked.
“It shows you’ve mastered control over your gift.”
I ran my fingers over it, but it didn’t change again. Did Charlie and Lallana know about this? For the first time, I wondered where they had got it.
My hands dropped to my side. “Why does yours stay red?”
“Mine isn’t like yours. There are few crystals in this world, and each is one of a kind. That you have one at all is a blessing.”
She gestured and marched toward the castle.
I fell into step beside her.
“Each village around the world has six Elders: one of each gift,” she said.
“I thought there were seven gifts.”
“There are. The Beasts do not live outside the forest.”
“The Beasts are Mage?”
Vitora raised her eyebrows. “What else would they be?”
“Shapeshifters. I thought they were just …”
“When a child is born, they are presented to the six in their village. Even at that young age, if the child is a Mage, the Elder of that gift can sense it and leave a mark, a scent of sorts, on the child.”
“There was only Matriarch, Ruben and Griff at home,” I said. Three Elders. Not six.
“Your village was different. You weren’t presented. Magic was suppressed there. When a gift activates, the Elder that marked the child senses this. As their mentor, they train the child, help them to learn their ways and gain control. They have a year to do so, before the child is brought to the Capital of that Mage and given their final test.
“The Capitals are the strongest points of challenge for the gifts. Take Refiners, for instance. The terrain and heat make it harder to control. For this reason, the test is the most difficult part of the year.
“It is with this test that the Elders can determine the Mage’s potential and whether the corruption has taken hold,” she said.
“The what?”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Power is very corruptive, Clara. If great care isn’t taken, it can claim you, and if the first year passes in this state, it’s very rare that a Mage will return from it. Goodness is almost impossible to feel once the corruption has you. Only once you reach 19, will the corruption no longer be an issue, assuming you overcome it.”
I shivered. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are a Mage, Clara. You must know the risks. It is difficult enough to fight the corruption as a normal Mage, but with all seven gifts …”
“I am not Corrupted.”
“Not yet. The time is early. When a Mage gives in to the darkness, the power takes hold. It warps their mind. They become hungry for more. Addicted. You wouldn’t easily find one willing to turn back.”
Assuming the gifts didn’t kill me first. Controlling the fire was difficult enough, and not without casualty. The other ones might be far worse.
Vitora turned and began up a slope, ducking back into the shelter of the castle.
It was a relief to be free of the burning morning sun, though as my eyes adjusted to the shade, it struck me that my struggles were far from over.
Vitora led me down a wide corridor and into a hall. Food was neatly lined in trays on a centre table. Freshly baked bread set my mouth watering and my stomach growling. I filled my plate, taking a handful of silberries eagerly, and sat opposite her at a nearby table. The small, blue berries only bloomed in the warmer season back home and were sweeter than any I had tasted before. The bread and cheese were equally delicious and satisfied me immensely.
Vitora lifted her napkin and patted her lips, a small amount remaining on her plate.
“Why don’t I remember anything?” I asked.
She frowned, her eyes darkening. “I don’t know. I know the Seekers were searching for you. I believe they must have succeeded.”
“What do they want with me? And with the Beasts? What did they do?”
“They did nothing more than protect you.”
“From the Seekers?”
She nodded.
Anger sparked inside me. “So, they’ll go after anyone, even if they did nothing wrong?”
“As far as the Council are concerned, the Beasts hid a fugitive. That is wrong.”
“Now I’m a fugitive?” This didn’t make sense. I had always been good in the village, never getting into trouble. What had I done in a “past life” that deserved the horror of the Seekers? “You must have me mistaken with someone else.”
She raised her eyebrows at my failed confidence. “That’s what you said last time, but if you are not who we say, the crystal would not work on you.”
Still clear, the pendant gleamed in the bright light. I ran my fingers along the bridge of my nose. “What did I do to get put on the Seekers’ list?”
“You made the gift of a Coun
cil Elder dormant, inaccessible, like before one turns 18. He was planning to enslave the Mortals. He believed he was above them. The Council knew nothing of this. When he told them you attacked him, they sent out the Seekers.”
“No. I would have explained. There’d have been a trial.”
“The Elder you repressed was a trusted friend, cloaking his life in loyalty and honour. They had no reason to doubt.”
“But why would I keep coming back? Why is this life my last chance? Last chance for what? And why do I have all seven gifts?”
Vitora sighed. “In your first life, you entered a covenant to become the Guardian until the Collision, when your oath would be complete. No one expected you to die, and when you did, we thought all was lost. But then three hundred years passed and you returned, no memories, just a new life, same face, and all the gifts.”
This couldn’t be real. The wild story, the existence of Mage. “She could have been a lookalike.” But the evidence of my gifts was undeniable.
“Tell me, who was your father?”
The hairs on my arms rose. I had no father.
A smile tugged at her lips. “Exactly. Your mother conceived immaculately. Just as a woman did each time you returned. And just as you were easy for us to find, the Seekers could discover you, too.”
“So, the village …”
“It was built before your birth, the perfect hiding place. The Seekers couldn’t sense you there. Others also took refuge inside – those needing protection, those without family – until it became a community.”
Just like Charlie. He came to the village an orphan.
“And the Beasts patrolled the borders,” Vitora added. “They made sure no one came near. Even with the magic protecting it, it wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Except now I’m not in the village.”
Her lips tightened. “No. You’re not.”
9
The desert stretched before me, glowing red with the setting sun beyond the window of the castle tower. The moons signalled the return of night.
My fingers ran over my crystal.
Three weeks had passed since my arrival at the Capital, and I’d barely seen anyone. As much as I missed home, the solitude was welcome. It gave me a chance to try to wrap my head around the recent events.
