by Kade Cook
Gabrian eyes, still glued to the large marble of ice, slowly shifts to her teacher. Blinking, wide-eyed and with lifted brow, she exhales, “That was so incredible. Am I supposed to be able to do that?”
Ashen releases a loud chuckle, relieved to know that her concern is in vain, and sits back down, resting her hands in her lap. “Yes, and technically, from what I was told about the beer incident, you already have,” she informs Gabrian, sliding her hand under the table to pull out another wooden bench. Pushing it under the other side of the oval table, she pats the top of it and grins. “We just have to figure out how to get you to do it again.”
32
THE MAGIC WITHIN
SLIPPING DOWN UPON the wooden bench, Gabrian’s hands shake in nervous anticipation of what she is expected to do, causing her stomach to twist and turn beneath her skin, ignorant of how to actually start. Her fingertips warm in her angst and she curses, pumping her fists and shaking out her arms, hoping that it will help calm the normal heating anomaly because it seems more of a hindrance than a means of help right now.
“Now just relax and hover your hands above the coolness of the marble,” Ashen says, her voice nothing more than a distant whisper, but the words sting in Gabrian’s ears. Not knowing how to begin festers in her confidence, but she does as instructed. “With your senses, locate the energy point within the center of your palms and focus, draw on it like a beacon for the life within the water to gather to.”
Not completely understanding, she stretches her arms out like a zombie on a mission and holds them in place, trembling above the marble. She closes her eyes, hoping it will cut out any visual sensory and force the other senses to engage more aggressively. Searching in the darkness for something she can use, something her gifts have to show her that she hasn’t seen before, Gabrian lets her mind wander. And wander. But all she finds is the crystalline essence of Ashen drifting uncomfortably close and bringing into play the acknowledgement of her hunger she has, so far, kept at bay. But being this close to Ashen, in such a confined space with nothing to cleanse the air between them, flares the hunger pangs. The beast within bares its teeth, gnawing its way back to the foreground, and deluges Gabrian’s concentration on the task at hand. Her thoughts no longer search for the water’s energy, they fight to control the urge to give in to the hunter inside, searing away the thin barrier holding her back. Gabrian grits her teeth as the visions of devouring Ashen’s life force violently thrashes around in her head, threatening to break free—yearning to consume.
Then the voice inside begins to speak. She is only one, and no one will see. You have been taught what to do. Just take what you need and leave the rest. No harm, no foul.
Having not eaten anything close to what she needs, Gabrian’s body tremors as she wills herself to resist. A waft of Ashen’s light catches on her breath and her instincts explode with her desire. Clenching her fists and thrusting herself backwards, Gabrian presses hard against the edge of the marble table and lands on her feet behind her bench. Wrenching her fists through her dark hair, twisting it into tight knots behind her neck, she rushes to the window and wildly winds the handle—creating a break in the seal. The scent of salt and kelp rushes through the new opening, filling her nose with the cleansing scents of the ocean and eliminates some of the essence that threatens to ruin everything and allows her a moment to gather herself.
“Gabrian, are you all right?” Ashen gasps, seeing her unexpected reaction and jumps up, rushing toward Gabrian who leans forward, bracing her arms on the frame of the window for support.
She inhales as much salted air into her lungs as she can stand before Ashen’s aura reaches her and can cause any more havoc on her lessons. “Yes, I am fine. Frustrated is all.” She twists her eyes to glance briefly at Ashen.
Ashen innocently touches her back, concerned for her student. Gabrian’s skin burns at the contact, elated from the desire to steal her life. “It is kind of stuffy in here. Do you mind if I open another window to get a crosswind going? I feel like I am going to suffocate.” She pushes out, standing upright, and jogs to the window just on the other side of the room, twisting the white handle below the window. Gabrian stands in the opening—eager to avoid Ashen’s affections—wanting to clear the air as quickly as she can. Otherwise, the session may go another direction—one that is a lot harder to fix.
“Yes, of course. So sorry about that,” Ashen says, stepping across the room to the other side of the levers, and opens the windows beside it as well. “I am so used to being up here I forget how stale the air gets with all the machines going and the heat from the sun overhead.”
The room fills with scents of sweet lilac drizzled in a salty breeze. Ashen’s essences floats carelessly around the room in fragmented streams—thinned with natures perfumes, just enough to make being in the same room tolerable. Taking a deep breath, Gabrian gathers her senses and presses her monster back into the shadows of her will once more. Her strained facial muscles relax and she unclenches her jaw then turns to Ashen who stares at her, hands on her hips.
“Better?” she asks.
“Much, thank you,” Gabrian exhales, almost telling the truth.
“Okay, great. Now back to work.” Ashen sidles back to her work station and waits for Gabrian to settle herself back down beside her on the bench. “I think you may be trying too hard to make this happen.”
Gabrian sits silently with her hands folded in her lap while Ashen tells her to relax and try to remember the emotions and the thoughts that took place in her head the day she froze her beer to the patio table. “What were you thinking about?”
Wrinkling her brow, and twisting her bottom lip, Gabrian sifts through her thoughts, trying to recall the exact replay. “Rachael had been going on about a problem she was having concerning her love life or what she considers her love life.”
“Oh, she has a fella. That is wonderful, she is a lovely girl,” Ashen begins to ramble on about Rachael and Gabrian stops to let her. After a few moments, Ashen stops herself realizing that this is not gossip hour at the tavern. “Sorry, not helping, please continue.”
Arching her eyebrow and smirking at Ashen’s humanness, she continues, “Then all I can remember is wishing that my beer was cold so that I could drink it.”
Leaning on one arm, Ashen’s eyes widen and she smiles, focusing on Gabrian’s last words. “Oh great, we have a starting point,” she cheers and turns back to place her hands on her stone, flicking her chin for Gabrian to do the same. “Now, what did you see? What did you hear? What did you feel? Go to that specific memory and replay it as exact and as vivid as you can.”
Gabrian twists herself to mirror Ashen’s position and closes her eyes again. She steps back in to her thoughts, recalling the heat and imagining an icy mountain top, frozen and barren. She smells the fresh clean scent of a new snowfall. Raising her chin and leaning her head back as if to let the imaginary flakes of falling snow touch upon her face, she smiles. Tiny dollops of icy flecks tingle sparingly all over her body.
Ashen studies her student as her grey aura swirls methodically around her still frame, slight flickers of flowy crystalline streaks wrapping around her winding and encasing her with shimmering streams of melting icicles. The edges of Ashen’s lips curl as a faint glow transforms from beneath Gabrian’s palms. “Now focus all of the feelings into your limbs...guide it slowly with your mind. Imagine it washing down into your arms. Let it flow like the movement of the river, feel the life within it slip forward and into the palm of your hand.
Cool painless pin pricks itch at the bottoms of her palms. A gentle vibration lobbies from her fingertips to the middle of her hand—an eager pressure growing colder at the center of it. It pushes against her palms with a familiar tingle of energy, much like that of the energy orb she learned to create and contain within her hands when she started training with Ethan months ago. It hums with a life of its own, spinning round and round, gathering sustenance as it does.
Letting the girl becom
e acquainted with the sensations, and allowing her to have this moment of freedom, Ashen sits quietly, grinning at the frozen orb manifesting beneath Gabrian’s palms—glowing in a light blue hue from the magic running through her veins. Seeing the orb grow and swirl into the size of a large sun-kissed orange, Ashen touches her lightly on the arm. The warmth in her hands soaks into Gabrian’s flesh, jarring her from her daydream. Her eyes open slowly, heavy and clouded from her journey, and gaze upon the Elder. Ashen switches her brow and tilts her head—her eyes darting to the table.
Blinking rapidly and re-entering the moment, Gabrian focuses toward the flattened cool surface and raises her hands, unblocking her view of what lies beneath. She gasps, wide-eyed and open-jawed at the misshapen yet frozen creation sitting before her as the darkened monster within becomes pacified in the elation of her new trick.
“I did it,” Gabrian squeals, her hands fly up and gently clap the sides of her cheeks but she jolts, promptly removing them from her face. The contrast of her warm flesh against the chill of magic still lingering on the surface of her hand frightens her. “Oh no!” she exclaims, staring at Ashen who sports a rather cheeky grin. “Is this dangerous?”
“No,” she chuckles, reaching out and taking Gabrian by the wrists. “You are fine, but we will need to make sure we get you familiarized with this new magic as quick as we can.” She laughs, reaching into a box beside her leg to pull out a hand towel. She wraps it around Gabrian’s dampened and chilled fingers then looks her straight in the eye. “We can’t have you going and freezing hell over before it is supposed to, now can we?”
Gabrian’s eyes twinkle and she snuffs out a chuckle. “No, I suppose not.”
33
AN ARTIST AND SORROW
NOW ABLE TO ENGAGE the soothing mental images necessary to manipulate the water vapors in the air around her, Gabrian spends all her time in Ashen’s studio perched on a wooden bench, honing her skills. She rises early before everyone else and works late into the night—sometimes even the tolling of midnight passes before she lays her head down to rest. What started out as a roughly malformed blob of ice upon a cold stone slab now takes on true structure, the appearance of actual figures with meticulous detailing. Her curious side once again takes over, yearning to learn, waking her up inside.
But it comes at a price.
Her lack of sleep, missed meals, and constant use of magical elements takes their toll on her health. The shadows harbouring beneath her lids darken—displaying the depletion of her body’s own energy, a red flag for all to see. The scratching beneath her skin is beginning to irritate again, clawing sharply at times, and making her well aware of its wanting. She deliberately tries to hide herself away—avoiding all beings in the house who contain an aura.
Even with the windows open in the frozen chamber, she feels the suffocation building with lust for Ashen’s crystalline presence, becoming almost too much to bear. No amount of dark essence drawn can lull the wild calling within, constantly whispering to her to feed it—snapping up the stray fragments that waft up and taunt her hunger from would-be sleeping victims below.
Her nights are becoming long—painting the ever-growing circles darker—and the sleep-filled time of her life has become that of a mere memory, a fruitful wish of deliverance. So, she stays awake and away, her nights always bleeding into the morning.
Once again dwelling within her abundant moments of solitude, Gabrian hears the sounds of life below drifting in on the winds through the open windows. The sound of husky bantering voices rumbles through her ears, mixed with higher-pitched laughter, stirring her from her craft. Crossing the room, she peers out the window to seek out the culprits of disruption. Rachael sits, tanned and carefree—a drink in one hand and the other busy multitasking on the laptop that rests in front of her on the table, no doubt staying on top of things at the office—while Ashen sips an icy golden beverage, hooting at the large man-children challenging each other into a sparring match like two mountains clamoring to claim the same spot and the victorious title that comes with it.
Watching Shane and Broghen try to continuously outmaneuver the other’s next move lifts the edges of her mouth and she chuckles, covering her hand to her lips as she does. Their strengths and speed, mirroring in almost every aspect of who they are—Schaeduwe, the defenders and the Guardians of the Realm without contention, and in watching them, Gabrian understands why.
Her focus follows Shane. She watches as his smile grows, his eyes sparkling in a way that she hasn’t seen in quite some time. Not since they met. Somehow the light she sees in his eyes now seems to have gotten lost along the way, maybe even a part of who he is as well. Seeing her Guardian this way in a different light—alive and vibrant—yearning to exist but cannot, shadows the smile she wears, fading along with her few moments of joy, sucked away by heavy pangs of guilt tearing at her because she is the reason why.
Gabrian slips away from the window with a heavy heart and returns to her bench, hoping to smother the sinking feeling consuming her from the inside with her studies. Seeing the ghost of Gabrian’s face fade from the window above, Ashen excuses herself and wanders up to the studio. Standing silent at the top of the wooden stairs with her drink in hand, she leans against the side of the door, watching her student for a few moments, lost within her new world of ice, but then makes her presence known with a loud cough, clearing her throat. “What are you building there?”
Gabrian’s eyes draw away from her sculpture, the blue haze illuminating from the source of her touch, receding as does the size of her pupils. She gives Ashen a lopsided grin as she turns to greet her. “It is Theo.”
Ashen straightens her stance and idles over to stand above Gabrian, getting a better look at her art. “Theo?”
“Yes, back home I have a Raven that is intent on stalking me, so I named him.”
“Theo,” they both say simultaneously, Ashen nodding her head in comprehension.
“I would have thought that to be strange before, when your Borrower gift had surfaced but now I guess it makes sense.”
Ashen’s words ring strangely in Gabrian’s ears, her eyes narrowing as she tips her chin back to rest on her right shoulder, searching, not fully understanding still much of anything that transpires within this new world. “What do you mean by that?”
Slipping to her left, Ashen reaches under the table and slides out the other wooden bench, setting herself down in front of Gabrian. “Well, Ravens and Borrowers are kind of like natural adversaries. The presence of a Borrower makes a Raven skittish, they are highly attuned to the energy that a Boragen being omits. Even if the Borrower is containing it existence, a Raven can see them for what they are when no one else can and they have no issues with letting everyone else know. So, in part, they are like an alarm system which irritates the crap out of many Borrowers, especially the ones who don’t want to be found.
Gabrian’s face lifts, her sullen downturned mouth no longer heavy with grief as a chuckle forces its entry. “That explains a few things. Ethan grumbles every time Theo makes an appearance. The bird never fails to cackle relentlessly at him until he is gone.”
Ashen laughs, recalling a few times Vaeda’s Raven guide has given Ethan the gears for being too close. “Oh, speaking of Ethan, he called the other day, wondering how your training was going.”
Gabrian’s inner light flickers and her smile falters just for a second but holds. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him you are hiding yourself away up in the studio all day and night, perfecting your gift,” Ashen says, leans forward, wrinkling her nose and folding her hands together in her lap.
Gabrian sits unmoving, her eyes cling to the curve of Ashen’s lips, waiting for something unpleasant to leave her mouth.
“He said it sounds about right.” Ashen snorts, unfolding her hands, and raises one of them to give Gabrian a quick rustle of her up-tied mess of tangled locks.
Exhaling loudly, releasing the breath she had been holding, Gabrian r
olls her eyes and shakes her head, suddenly missing her friend.
“All right, kiddo, with that being said, it is time for lunch,” she says, rising from her perch and places a gentle hand on Gabrian’s bare shoulder. “...and I will not take no for an answer.” She strides across the floor, and stops at the edge of the stairs, looking back over her bronze shoulder. “I will even get Broghen to skip the grill with your steak—nice and bloody. Just the way you like it.”
Gabrian’s eyes drop to the icy replica of her stalker awaiting her return from far away, and nods in agreement to Ashen’s insistent invite. Pushing away from the marble slab table, she follows Ashen’s lead.
Maybe it is time to rejoin life for a while...at least for lunch.
34
DEADLY DREAMS
BETWEEN THE BUILDING sadness, absence of rest, and the desire to dishonourably feed testing the strength of her will, Gabrian’s mind becomes a raging warzone beneath her calm exterior—the internal battle manifesting into a migraine after lunch. She calls it a day and heads toward the loft, certain her decision will appease Ashen’s concerning glances for her obvious need of rest, and Gabrian’s body finally crashes and shuts down.
The entire afternoon she lies motionless in the upstairs library—no longer battling, dreaming of walking through a meadow, the one that always appears in her dreams...the one where she drifts amongst the wild flowers, free and without bounds. In the distance, she hears the sounds of her familiar black-feathered friend. He comes to greet her, hovering in the air nearby to send out a welcoming coo from above.
She closes her eyes, tilting her face upward, and smiles, welcoming the warmth of the sun as it gently caresses her skin with blessings of its maternal kiss. Little prickles of chills start to dance across her flesh, weaving seamlessly at first with the euphoria of the sun’s magic. But they soon drown out the warmth as a cloud hurries across the yellow star and casts a moment of darkness, chilling the air. Gabrian lifts her long dark lashes and gazes up to the sky. Crystalline circles feather carelessly across her view, dancing recklessly around her as they descend.
