Page 17 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

The little voice nudged me. I chewed my lip. It didn’t appear I had many other options than trusting Jana.

I exhaled. “What do I need to do?”

“Come to Viribrum with us,” she said, relieved by my question. “No one can deny you are the seed of Viturius. You have his bright eyes, curved nose, and heart-shaped mouth. You are proof that Drakkar did not sanction your death. It may be enough to ease tensions and prevent war. And besides, itisyour home. You will be safe there, from Fayzien and anyone else that might want to hurt you. You have relations in Viribrum, too, a few cousins, aunts, and uncles. And your father’s estate, which is rightfully yours. You can have a home again.”

Whether she knew it or not, the wordhomegave me a tendril of hope. I wanted to cling to it like a lifeline; I wanted to imagine days filled with purpose and evenings filled with laughter. But I couldn’t, not really. The ones I’d loved were gone. My birth-sire was gone. I couldn’t return to Argention, not without alerting Fayzien and endangering Gia or Mav. Gia would wonder about me, I knew. She’d never get the truth of what happened or where I went, and that would hurt. But she had her brother and her family. She would be cared for and safe.

I, however, was utterly alone—save for the fire that burned inside me, driving the cold emptiness from my chest.

Revenge. That was my lifeline.

I blew out a breath. “I will accompany you to Viribrum. But I need your word. I need your word that you have not lied to me, and never will. And I need your word that no matter what happens, you will ensure the just punishment of Fayzien of Nebbiolo for the murder of my family. Human and… not.” I expected to hear my voice shake, but the words came out smooth and cold.

Jana only nodded, her face solemn, but her eyes shining with something that almost resembled pride. “You have it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

BROKEN MIRROR

“Magic, well… She is a fickle thing,” Dane explained with wrists clasped behind his back as we meandered through the canvas camp toward the forest. Roughly my height, Dane had dark skin, a broad mouth, and wore his hair shaved close to his scalp. Most uniquely, faded swirling tattoos snaked up his neck, growing towards his face like flames. The Witch had not been present at my cleansing, but he seemed to be one of the closest to Jana, and he intended to teach me the ways of my element.

The absurd thought of magic generated by my own hands made my eyes roll, but I quickly remembered dirt exploding from my palm in defense.

I swallowed, my heart racing, refocusing on Dane’s lesson.

“Some call upon Her with words. We call these spells, of course. It’s the most reliable act for us Witchfolk. They allow specificity and control. We achieve simple tasks with cantrips: a single word or short string, usually the same backwards as forwards, a palindrome if you will. These take little energy, but some repetition to master. Here, let me show you.”

He paused and extended his hand. “Navid divan,” he said, and an apple appeared in his palm. He held it between hisfingers, rotating it to prove its realness. My expression softened at the trick. So small, yet another confirmation that the reality I had always known was changing rapidly.

“There is always a balance that must be restored, or maintained, when it comes to magic. This apple did not appear from nowhere, you see. It is not to say I snatched it out of some poor sap’s hand to present it to you. But, somewhere, there is an apple tree not yet in full bloom. It will grow one less apple because of my little cantrip. What is the harm in that, you might ask? To which I would reply, none that I perceive. Now, what if I dumped a thousand apples at your feet? Well, maybe that tree would die. Again, it seems like a small consequence. It is, after all, only one tree out of millions. But I assure you, there are times when the consequence is more than the death of one tree.”

“And… everyone has magic?” The unsaid question hung between us:I have magic?

Dane shook his head, hands still clasped behind his low back as we walked. “I would say about half of Witchfolk can tap into Source—that fabric of life that weaves between us—with only a small subset able to wield an element. Some Fae have powers, but theirs are single manifestations of Source. Like a knife or a sword—their powers are a tool with a purpose. These powers can be quite vast but are limited to that utility. This is why they cannot portal, unless they specifically possess traveling magic. Witch magic is more… flexible. Like a multi-purpose tool. We can spell—we have mastery of all Source. We typically are more limited in power, and I suppose that is nature’s check and balance, but the variety of what we can do with that power is far more vast.”

“Portal…” My mind drifted to his instant appearance in Jana’s tent the day before, Ezren in tow.

“Yes, folding oneself through space to hop from one place to another instantly. Quite convenient, quite taxing.”

I chewed my lip, not sure I ever wanted to experiencefolding oneself.

“As I was saying, spelling only requires mastery of Source. What is less common, say maybe one in several thousand magic-blessed Witches, is the ability to call upon the elements. Water, Air, or Fire. For Element Witches it is not terribly difficult to ignite this call, as the elements are extensions of themselves. However, control does not come easily. I’ve seen entire villages lit aflame by the hand of a green Fire Witch attempting a simple task, such as roasting a suckling or warming a bedroom. So, while your training will consist of some cantrips and a few practical spells, control of your Earth power requires immediate attention.”

I let out a breath. I’d agreed to train with Dane and Ezren, given Jana seemed to believe it was highly dangerous for my magic, now unbound, to roam free inside me. Still, I was wary.

“How do you know for certain that I have Earth magic?” I could feel the vibration and purr of the Earth more clearly since the cleansing, but nothing else.Shouldn’t I innately feel such a power?“And if I do, how would you know how to train me? Jana said the last Earth Witch lived a millennium ago.”

“Certain things are unmistakable to the schooled eye. I suspect Jana is not wrong about your power, and I can feel a tangible amount of it coming off of you. But soon enough, our suspicions will be validated or denied. As for the training, I am a Fire Witch. Earth is living, and in a way, so is Fire. It will be different but not impossible for me to train you. I have half a century of experience in the art of control.”

I gaped. Half a century? He looked a mere few years older than me. I would have guessed not a day over twenty-five. “Dane, how old are you?”

“Seventy-one,” he said, amusement flickering over his expression. “We Witches don’t live as long as the Fae, but certainly age as well.” His coy expression was almost endearing.

I stopped in my tracks then. “And how long will you live?”

“I am in my mid-life, or nearing it,” Dane explained. “Witches have a fixed lifespan, though we didn’t always. Unless we’re killed or die of some incurable ailment, we live for one hundred and fifty years, only aging visibly like a human would in the last two decades. Fae live far longer. The oldest Fae is more than thrice that age.”

I remained still, the camp bustling around us, Witch and Fae alike moving in preparation. “How long will I live?” The question came from my lips of its own accord.

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