by Kade Cook
“Oh, okay. He just looked strange after our session, and I wanted to talk to him about it.”
“He is fine, just wanted to prepare. You know how he is. You will have plenty of time to talk with him tomorrow.” Ethan offers her a warm smile, but it does not convince her.
Something is off. Gabrian can feel it. She saw him in her mind as he truly is—raw and unchallenged, frightening and wild—and her curiosity craves to know more about the side of him that he keeps tucked so neatly inside. A forbidden beautiful curse that has caught her attention.
“You are sure?” Narrowing her eyes, she offers Ethan one more chance to come clean.
“Yes, absolutely.” No dice. His lips are sealed, sensing her inquisitive mind scratching for scraps of information. “Besides, I think you have bigger things to busy yourself with tonight than worrying about Kaleb.”
A large pepper-haired Elder steps into the conversation. “Kaleb is a big boy, just gave him a bit of a start is all. He will be fine.” Arramus’ energy emanates off him in waves of subtle ferocity. The magnitude of power in each surf pulses, meshing, and pushing against Gabrian’s own energy force like the turning of tides. She steps back, giving the seemingly gentle Mage a wider birth in the strange, silent, and not to mention dizzying, evolution of her new reality.
This is really the first time she has stood beside the Egni Elder outside the binds of the Covenant of Shadows where his strength is not harbored within him. Well, other than the night he held her in his arms and carried her from the world of inferno. But that did not count. She had been unconscious then so his magnanimous well of power had gone unnoticed.
That is not the case today. Gabrian’s backyard is a smorgasbord of power—counting herself in this mix of things. Out here in the open world, far away from the shield of the Covenant of Shadows, where everyone is fair game and nothing about their internal makeup is altered, Gabrian is now astute to Arramus’ overflowing abundance of Magik. His bright fiery aura quickens and switches around him, quite alive and fueled for action.
“So, are you ready to turn the heat up a notch?” With his hands on his hips, and jovial light rising in his eyes, the Elder awaits her readiness.
Her reply to Arramus’ question gets caught in her throat with an impromptu cough of nervous laughter.
“Since Tynan has informed us you started the morning off in flames, so to speak,” Arramus starts.
Traitor, Gabrian thinks a jest for Tynan’s loose lips.
“We thought it’s fitting that I would be the one to introduce you to your defensive training.” His grin is infectious and unarming.
Stealing a quick glance at Ethan, her brows arch as her words find their way to him. “Sure, why not? No time like the present.” She hoots at the Elder, exhaling a defiant breath. “And since I am obviously not going anywhere anytime soon, might as well start the clock on my prison sentence.” She shrugs, eyeing the both of them, and does not care if anyone’s feelings are slighted or not. “Who knows, maybe if I am a good girl, and try really hard, I might get out on early parole.”
The two Elders chuckle at her comment, letting the snarky tone in her meaning slide over their shoulders. “Ah, it won’t be so bad.” With a grin painted on his lips, Arramus turns away, signalling to others it is time to begin. He peeks over his shoulder and hoots a cheer back at her. “It will be over before you know it.”
Ethan pats her on the shoulder and pulls her into a stride next to him, edging her toward the center of her backyard. “Arramus is right, you know. The time will pass quickly, and hey, it is you we are talking about. I have a feeling at least one of two things will happen next.”
“Oh really? Please do enlighten me, my all-knowing wise and powerful, Yoda.”
Pushing his words through a hopeful chuckle, Ethan knows her sassy remarks are just her defence system kicking in, and a sadness ghosts over his heart. The replay of Gabrian’s stolen innocence, replaced by ugly knowledge of this world—her world—flashes in her eyes. They are facts of Magik he himself knows all too well, a bond he and Gabrian both share, separated by centuries of youth.
Life is a journey filled with truths. It cannot always be filled with rainbows and butterflies. And for some, it is within the deepest and darkest hours of strife that one finds strength to stand back up, courage to keep standing, and the brightest strands of light to cling to in order to cast one’s own shadows.
Gazing at his brave and feisty little friend, Ethan unveils his forecast. “Well, for one, you will either ace this learning process with flying colours, so to speak and have your freedom returned.”
“Or two?”
“Two, knowing you as I do, you will manage to find a way to twist all of it into one of your experiments, as you so like to call them, and change all the rules of this game,” he says, giving her a knowing wink.
Ethan tucks her in for a quick one arm hug of support as each of his words stick to her like flies to flypaper. Something about the way they move through her mind gives her hope. She likes it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fire and Ice
Standing before Arramus is one thing. Being watched by a hoard of highly expectant Elders, who just placed a mountain on your head, is quite another. A surreal cloud of fogginess clogs Gabrian’s mind and her nerves bite at her from the inside, feeling all eyes glued to her every single move. The burn in her fingertips pulses with each beat of her heart, and she shakes her hands, trying to still their fury.
Her eyes abandon the Egni Elder to watch Ethan take his leave and stand at the edge of the makeshift training perimeter in her backyard, the one created by methodically placed rectangular shielding stations forming a large circle around them.
“Alright, little one, are you ready?”
Gabrian’s eyes rush back to study her new mentor. Giving her hands one more shake, she nods and brings her attention to the lesson. Arramus donates a wide smile that pinches the edges of his eyes and nods.
“Excellent,” he hums, bringing his hands in front of him, upturned and touching pinky to pinky. “We are going to start slow, and as we progress, I will engage with your gift to its fullest potential.”
“What happened to let’s throw her in head first, trial by fire, gung-ho whoopla you were spouting earlier?” she offers him, brow twisted and matched by a nervous grin resembling more of a smirk.
“How did you—” Gabrian taps the side of her head and shrugs, watching the Elder as he figures it out. “Ah, you heard that, did you?” He rubs the back of his head and glances back at Tynan’s little house.
“It is kind of hard not to hear when the thoughts are so intensely given out.”
“Sorry about that, it wasn’t intended to be mean. I thought it might be the best way to draw out your gifts, and help you deal. I mean…learn how to wield them. I still hold an old school mentality for some things.”
“So, why the start out slowly route, then?”
“I was outvoted.” He grins.
“Oh.” Gabrian pulls her eyes away from the apologetic Elder and peeks over her shoulder to the crimson setting sun. Its belly dips into the darkened sea, flares of colour dancing across the water, lighting the edges of fleeting waves on fire. The warm glow of the day’s end softens her rustling soul, reminding her of better days, of the past and future moments to come. She can do this. Compared to what she has been through, this is a walk in the park.
Ugh, never mind. No parks. Stay away from the park. The thought strangely unearths a giggle from somewhere deep within. As deranged as it is, at least she can laugh about it now, sort of.
“Gabrian, are you alright?”
The voices come from two places at once, inside and out. Arramus hums his request with sound while Ethan does his Magik inside her head. She assures them both with a shake of her head, and a nod, darting her eyes from one concerned Elder to the other. “Yeah, I am good. Just nervous, I guess.”
“Don’t worry yourself over it. This will be a piece of cake. Or
fire I should say,” he ruses, bringing his hands to touch together again.
Gabrian settles. It is time to focus and get this prison sentence over with. “Yes, fire. On with the show.”
A waft of heat kisses Gabrian’s face, brushing her back a step as a large orange ball of flame bursts with a growl and rushes to consume the empty void of Arramus’ cupped hands. A blue crust bottoms the beast as it riles and twists, cascading faint shadows to dance over both of them in the depleting light of day.
The fire’s alluring intoxication draws Gabrian back in, recovering from her lost step away. She marvels in its splendor of colours and fragrances as it heats the dewing air of dusk.
“Now.” Arramus’ word breaks the spell, abruptly awaking Gabrian from the soothing trance. “I want you to hold your hands out and cup them together like mine.”
Her eyes rip open, wide and alert, and the haziness is gone, bells ringing in her head with alert. “What? I can’t do that.” Gabrian pulls her arms in close, biting the edge of her thumb.
“Sure, you can.”
“No, seriously. I can’t.”
“Well, let’s see. You managed to set a book on fire this morning, so yes, you can. And I have it on good authority that you were once on fire.” He offers her with a grin. “You know how I know this? Because I was the one who put out the flames. So, yes, you can.”
Her eyes rush to Ethan. I can’t hold fire. Is he insane? I was unconscious the first time and the second time I was asleep.
Trust, Gabrian. You must have trust. He knows what he is doing. It will be fine, just breathe. Focus and find that stubbornness I know is in there.
“You can,” he hums at her, waiting for her to finish her silent conversation with Ethan. “Now stop looking at Ethan for help, ‘cause he can’t do this for you. Stop biting your fingers and put your hands together. You will be just fine.”
She draws her eyes away from her friend and glances up at the Elder’s face, coloured by fiery shadows, and whispers a low prayer. “I can do this.”
“You can do this. Just don’t be afraid of the flame. It will hinder your process.”
An awkward chuckle bubbles out from within her. “Oh, excellent…no problem. Don’t worry about the massive ball of fire you are about to coddle in your hands. It’s all good,” she blathers out, not really talking to Arramus. It is more of a half-hearted pep talk for her psyche, an attempt to hear the meaning of the words on a different and deeper level. “I can do this. I can do this.” She chants low, over and over, pulling her hands together, and coaxes them slowly toward the flaming ball of Magik. “I can do this. I can…”
Arramus edges his gift of inferno toward the small youngling and holds it to hover over her small trembling hands. “Remember, don’t be afraid of it.”
Don’t be afraid. I can do this. I can do… this. Don’t be afraid.
Don’t be afraid, Ethan pipes up, offering his silent support.
I’m trying. Okay?
You are afraid. I can feel it.
Why don’t you come over here and stretch out your hands in front of this thing, and we will test your fear factor level.
Gabrian, Ethan hums.
Ugh, I’m trying. Get out of my head. You are making me nervous.
Lowering the back of his hands to touch against Gabrian’s open vibrating palms, Arramus whispers slow and calm, “Don’t be afraid.”
Don’t be afra—holy hell, that thing is massive.
Breaking the seal, Arramus pulls his hands apart to let the flame descend. Gabrian’s flesh stings with agonizing pain as the Magik touches down. And hot! Sweet mother of… Instant reflexes kick in as the pain engages with her brain. The flame engorges and flares out, catching the hem of her loose cotton Gi, and sears the edges of her sleeves. Crap, I am on fire!
Gabrian breaks from her poetic pose to flap her arms out wildly, dislodging her hands, and beats at the lace of fire eating her clothing. Not making headway in dousing the flames, words taught to her as a child in case of any fire stomp through her mind—stop, drop, and roll—and she does as she is commanded.
Rolling around on the grass with conviction, the glow of Gabrian’s fiery ensemble writes waves of orange streaks against the blanket of night—much resembling the swish of sparklers in a child’s hand on a warm summer night. Gabrian slows her movements, studying her seared black suit—assured the enemy has been destroyed. The failing remains of light turn her world into the supernatural follies in a comic book, its inked characters rumbling with colourful hues of laughter.
Gabrian glances up at the hue of crimson outlining the form of her fiery mentor, her tender fists clenched in soreness. “Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse.”
Another blast of laughter thunders over her as Arramus lowers down and reaches for her wrists—eyeing what remains of her sleeves. Gently flipping her hands over, he tenderly uncurls her tiny reddened fingers. Peering through the darkness Arramus, determines the level of damage done. Pressing the tender flesh with the tip of his thumb, the soot releases its hold on her flesh and wipes off. Ashes fall unclaimed. Beneath the evidence of failed first attempts unveils soft supple flesh, unmarred and pristine.
His eyes lift to hers, and his hands—warm and gentle—cup her fingers, holding them safe. “Maybe we should start just a bit smaller.”
“Do you think?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Messages and Ghosts
Arramus finally takes pity on her around midnight, after hours of trying to ignite her fire gifts. She finally manages to draw flame onto her index finger after multiple attempts of him toning it down to end the onslaught of abuse to her poor disintegrating suit.
May it now rest in peace.
After a loud rumble of congratulatory approvals from the remaining Elders, everyone unanimously votes to cease training. The day’s unveiling of extraordinary findings depletes much of the buzzing excitement, and they all seemed to be running on reserves at this point, especially Gabrian. It had been a very long day for everyone.
The whole day had been nothing more than a continual whirlwind of life altering events that even in her newly-healed state she is eager to shut down and reboot. After a nice long hot shower, all traces of her first day of training are washed away and thrown rightfully in the trash. Gabrian slides into bed, properly clothed in pink fuzzy jammies printed with yellow giraffes, book in hand, and happily awaiting dreamland. She grins as her fingers run over the soft supple texture of her new purple and silver comforter draped over the bed. She flips the edge over to read the label, curious as to the material used to make it.
A chuckle escapes as she sees the words ‘Fire Retardant’ in bold print. The lengths her uncle goes to in order to ensure her safety, his unspoken gestures of quiet love for her, warms her heart.
Stuffed into her pillows, and surrounded by soft light, Gabrian’s body settles into a blissful rest, but her mind has plans of its own. Her book, which normally holds the mystical power to sooth her wandering thoughts, should have knocked her out cold after the day she just had, but it holds little effect. Her eyes refuse to stay on the pages and drift around the room, catching on the menacing time keeper that ticks out its warning of another hectic day awaiting her in less than seven hours.
Rotten know it all.
A faint ping bounces across the room. Putting her book to the side, she slips out of bed and riffles through the pile of books on the shelf until she finds the culprit of the noise. Snatching up her phone, she flips the cover open and it comes to life as she returns to her bed. She had not paid it any attention in forever, evident by the ton of unread emails in her inbox.
Her fingers slide across the screen, scrolling through the list until a familiar name makes her stop and smile. Taping quickly on the name, her screen opens and her heart lightens, chuckling at his opening words.
To: Gabrian Shadwell
You don’t call, you don’t write. I am starting to get a complex. Ha ha. Seems like forever. It was grea
t to see you and meet your friend, Ethan. That boyfriend of yours better watch out. The bar is busy as usual. Filled to the brim with life but only one girl has the key to my heart. Miss your smile.
Write me. Better yet, come visit. Feel free to bring Ethan too.
Hugs from your biggest fan, T
Gabrian hugs the phone to her chest, missing the hell out of her friend. It is so easy with him. Thomas is like a missing piece of her life’s puzzle she never knew was missing, until after they met. And now, he fits so perfectly into her heart that she cannot imagine not knowing him.
To: Thomas Blackstone
Sorry for not writing. I have been a bit busy the last few weeks.
Let’s see, where to start? Oh yes, so…I got kidnapped by a Dark Magic Mage stricken with grief for his dead daughter and was being coerced by my father to do his bidding. Who, by the way, is the trapped soul of an evil Vampire. Then let’s see, I got pulled into Erebus by soul-sucking Gargons and then sent back to Earth by the Keeper of the Eastern gate of Erebus because I am special and need to help save the world, or something to that effect.
Hmm, what else? Oh yes, upon my return to life, I emerged decrepit and useless as the most hideous remanent of a human shell one can possibly become but was healed by a very nice but scary mythical Nymph who lives in the ocean just around the corner from my cottage.
And now, to top it all off, I have been deemed the leader of the High Table—Silver Mage to the people. So, in order to secure my reign, I am a hostage in my own home. I was sent into a terrifying mind-altering trance by an Elder, who’s Magik is forbidden and hunted, and set on fire. All activities so far are approved training by the Elders of the Realm because they are hoping to force Magik to appear out of my butt.
Miss your smile more.
And I have a better idea. Come rescue me please, Gabrian.
Hmm, nope. Probably not the best letter to send. Truth, in my case unfortunately, is definitely stranger than fiction, Gabrian thinks, determining this would be an immediate way to get her emails put on Thomas’ automatic ignore list. Not to mention an open invitation for a quick call from him to have her put her on the watch list for the looney bin express—the one that arrives with the adjustable white coat, straps, and everything. Gabrian sighs, deleting the truth from the email, and begins candy coating the letter.
