Page 50 of Overwhelmed By Magic

I want to argue but that seems in poor taste. Sitting up further, I am able to see most of the room. The roots are still rippling across the floor, my essence playfully bouncing around the room and tapping books at random but never landing on one like it did before.

“You are the Praestes, sweet boy. A keeper of knowledge and secrets and essence. The one before you did not find his calling early enough to bring the truth of my gift back to the Earth. He was supposed to carry on his lineage but he was taken from me too soon. The one before him was a great Keeper, a bridge between the true line of Praestes, until he decided to keep the knowledge to himself. He was supposed to protect it, not harbor it and now he rules essence with an iron fist. He is a disgrace and a blemish but you will be different. You are of that lineage. I can feel it.”

I'm related to Silas? Of course, that's not the question that comes out. “You chose a human?” I push to my feet, wildly looking around for a face or the direction of the voice but it’s everywhere and nowhere. It’s from the tree and it isn’t. I glare at the leather-bound book at the base, wondering if the answers I need are in there but for some reason, I don’t dare touch it. Not yet. Maybe next time. “Why would you choose me? I can’t even protect myself against the other Magila!”

“You do not need to protect yourself. You have five claims for that, sweet boy. Three of the most powerful elements at your side, ready to protect you from anything that may harm you. Fire, spirit, and blood. Lean on them and you will fare just fine.”

Three elements? I’m confused about where Ambrose and Rumi fit into those as I would have thought something else entirely.

I’m suddenly transported back to Ambrose’s room, violently gasping for air. My hands flail as both Ambrose and Harlow try to steady me. It takes several minutes for me to calm down, the transfer back here much less pleasant than the one to Mother Nature’s room.

“Babe, shit, you’re going to get me a fucking heart attack one day. You just went slack and I couldn’t—we couldn’t get you to come back. I thought the demons in your head had taken you from me.” A sob tears from Harlow’s throat as I start to fully come back to reality.

Ambrose slips his fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my forehead. Harlow is hovering over me, straddling my hips, his hands on either side of my torso. Pure panic spreads through his expression as he leans down to rest his forehead against mine. For a few moments, it's just us breathing, Harlow and Ambrose shielding me from the rest of the world.

“Little human, you were gone for a little bit. Couldn’t wake you or grab your attention. What happened?”

They slowly help me up, the other three of our group rushing inside within inches of where I am on the floor. There’s a mixture of worry and concern for my current state and I can only imagine that the mark on my arm has linked not just us together physically but mentally. Which isn’t a great thing to think about since I panic every so often.

Meeting each and everyone’s eyes, I manage a nod to let them know I’m okay. There’s no good way to explain what happened so I just jump in headfirst with what I want to know most.

“Does anyone know what a Pra-praestes is? She called me that. Mother Nature did right after she said I was Silas' descendant.” I can’t even say the damn word she said.

Silence meets my question.

And then it’s just chaos.

“Mother Nature spoke to you?” Rumi.

“Are you hurt, babe?” Harlow.

“You were gone for so long.” Jade.

“I was worried you might not come back.” Stellan.

“She actually said you’re the Praestes?” Ambrose clears his throat as he gathers my full attention. “Skye, there hasn’t ever been one of those since Mother Nature revealed her gift centuries ago. Someone who ensures the truth regarding the histories. I’ve heard legends, sure, but I thought that shit was fake. She said you’re one?”

I nod, feeling the weight of my new position. I wished I had been a little more conscious to ask her who had sent me here and what was my purpose and a host of other things that wouldn’t have mattered in the moment. “She mentioned that there had been two recent ones before me. One who was never able to fulfill his position but came from a long line of them. That was Silas who I'm somehow related to. And then another who was great until he decided to harbor knowledge and now rules essence with an iron fist.”

My gaze falls on Rumi and it’s like every part of him realizes what I’m saying. He drops to his knees, hands plastered on the floor. “You’re telling me that my uncle fucking knew? That we’re not rejects, that Mother Nature made us exactly the way we were supposed to be? I’m going to kill him.” His amber eyes flash a rich golden color as a growl erupts from his throat.

There will be time for making everyone pay but first I need something else.

To truly find out what each of my claimed Magila are.

After all, Mother Nature said that keeping them at my side would help me.

I may not have been all that ecstatic when Dr. Bennington gave me my appointment a week ago but I’ll have to thank him when I see him next.

I’m beginning to think that that’s going to be a lot shorter than five years.

34

DMITRI

EPILOGUE

The weekly report is late. It should have been on my desk Friday evening but it’s now the second week of the new school year and I haven’t heard so much as a peep. I rarely read the dredge, finding more of the same—that students are unruly and unfit to hold essence. There’s never anything of use in those documents. I don’t expect much when the professors and counselors care as much about those rejects as I do.

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