Page 29 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

My mouth twitches in a smile of gratitude, but I don’t pass on her comment to Sulla. We haven’t seen any point in mentioning my other supernatural oddities.

The floor slants upward through the mountainside. We pass other rooms with door-less entrances, and I catch glimpses of the books she mentioned as well as various other collections of objects and storage containers.

I don’t realize that we’ve wound around back to the surface until Sulla pushes open a door and the cool autumn air washes over me. We climb a winding path of stone steps past several slanted gardens with a variety of crops.

Magic dances in the air; little spurts of water erupt to dampen the soil.

Sulla escorts me through another doorway into a smaller interior structure that’s no less fascinating than the first. A large bucket with a strange lid appears to be shearing grain off a set of stalks of its own volition. Drying herbs rustle as the thread they’re hanging from creeps in a steady rotation.

“Most of the time I have far more food than I need,” Sulla says. “But we’ve set up good systems for preservation. It serves us well when a newcomer finds their way here—and during the winter months when we haven’t enough magic in place to grow very much.”

We pop out into the mid-morning sunlight for another short trek past more gardens. Sulla points out a few shrubs in a cluster near the next doorway. “Mirewort, if you need it. We made sure to cultivate a few plants… This isn’t any kind of a life to bring a child into.”

I dip my head in agreement, taking note. In our hasty departure from the college, I left behind the small stash of the contraceptive herb that Alek procured for me.

I’ll have to keep a supply close by from now on. It’s not something I want to risk going without.

When we step through the next doorway, it becomes clear why the inhabitants of the Haven chose that particular spot to grow their mirewort. More golden light washes over the hallway and the rooms branching off it, which do have doors though those are currently standing open. Conjured warmth emanates from the rooms on the other side.

“These are typically the sleeping quarters,” Sulla explains. “I’ve gotten into the habit of taking my rest in the base building since that’s where I spend most of my time anyway, but you and your companions could retire here for the nights if you’d like. There’d be more room to spread out across. If that’s something they’re willing to do.”

She shoots me an amused look that brings a flush to my cheeks.

“Then we wouldn’t be quite so much in your hair,” I say. I’m not sure how pleased she is to finally have some company, but she must have gotten used to having a lot of peace and quiet.

“It’s fine. You’re where you need to be. The gods saw to that. And this is where we’ll do our most important work.”

Sulla nudges open one final doorway, and we climb a dozen stone steps carved between two rocky walls. When we emerge onto the plateau above, I lose my breath.

We’re nearly at the mountain’s peek. Mica-laced stone glints all around me under the shining sun.

The tops of the nearest trees rise to the level of my knees. Over them, I can see all across Silana to where the vibrant green and mottled autumn leaves of the land meet the crystal blue of the sky.

Julita makes a sound with a sharp inhalation. Wow.

It takes me a moment to find my own words. “That’s quite the view.”

“I’m rather fond of it.”

I tear my gaze away to take a closer look at the flat platform we’re standing on. It’s about ten paces across in a near-perfect circle, with the All-Giver’s and each of the godlen’s sigils carved along the edges.

Even though one of those godlen sent me here, my pulse gives a brief hitch at the call to the divine powers.

Sulla marks my reaction. “We ask them to have mercy on us and guide our way. Although you’re the first I’ve heard of who’s been guided quite so blatantly.”

She motions for me to sit across from her. “Let’s start with you telling me everything you can about how you’ve controlled your powers in the past.”

Shaking off my qualms, I sink onto the smooth stone and lean back on my hands. The warmth of the sun and the crisp forest scents contrast sharply with the twist of discomfort her question provokes.

“I touched on it a little last night,” I say. “It’s hard to explain. I feel my magic clamoring to get out, get a sense of the things it could do, and I simply… refuse. I guess I tighten up my body against the urge. But mostly it’s seemed to be willpower. The times when it slipped away from me have been more about mental distraction or haziness than anything else.”

Sulla nods as if this doesn’t surprise her. “Have you used any specific mental tricks? Imagery or similar?”

I reach back through my memories. “I instinctively picture my refusal as a sort of clamping down, like I’m shutting the power away, putting up walls around it. One time when I was really struggling, I imagined I was like a tree with a thick layer of bark that it couldn’t break through.”

“You should continue choosing concrete visuals that resonate with you and draw on them when you’re tamping down your magic. We’ve all found that approach the most effective strategy.” She pauses. “You also mentioned that suppressing it has led to some physical pain and possible injury.”

I grimace. “Yes. For a little more than a year now, it’s felt as if my power is attacking me from the inside when I refuse to use it. It only hurt mildly at first, but at its worst, the pain was so bad I couldn’t stand, and I coughed up blood a couple of times.”

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