Page 37 of An Honored Vow

“Do that again, child,” Feron said. He nodded at Gwyn’s fingers on her ankle, tracing the tether.

They were glowing, leaving streaks of amber light in the air over her skin, but this time the light hadn’t disappeared. The strokes had fused together into a single symbol waiting for Gwyn to finish.

She stopped and the symbol fizzled out.

“Only draw the lines within that circle,” Feron said, eyeing her ankle from his stone seat with glowing irises. He was mapping the pattern along her skin with his magic, feeling the grooves of Gwyn’s scar like a river cutting through Elverath.

Gwyn straightened, her fingers hovering over her tether. She took a quick breath and started marking the air with light. The symbol was made of five straight lines encased by a circle. It reminded me of the shapes I had cut into the earth at each seal.

The amber streaks pulsed when Gwyn finally connected the shape. They turned gold, and a thick stone grew from the ground until it pierced the light like a sword through a belly.

Gwyn’s eyes went wide with delight.

“I did it.”

I stilled, assessing Gwyn for any oncoming pain. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Gwyn looked at her fingertips. “Everything inside me is buzzing and warm. Whatever that was, my magic liked it.”

“No pain?” Gwyn shook her head and my shoulders finally fell from my ears. “You’re an earth wielder.”

“Awesome,” Fyrel whispered.

“No, she is not,” Feron said, his brow tense over the straight line of his mouth. “That symbol on her leg is not just decoration. It is an ancient rune for stone. I assume Aemon used it in his tether to represent the palace of Koratha, as it is carved from a single piece of stone. Gwyn does not have command over the earth like you and me; the stone appeared because she traced the rune to command it.”

Riven’s voice had that same bookish curiosity that Vrail’s used to have. “Like a spell?”

“Much more powerful than anything the Mages or Elves have ever conjured. Together or alone.” Feron bit his lip and turned toward Fyrel. “Fetch me a piece of parchment and a glass pen.”

She ran to the equipment room, throwing drawers open with lightning speed until she found what he had asked for.

Feron sketched a shape onto the paper. It was made of seven jagged lines also encased in a circle. “Draw this,” he said to Gwyn.

The parchment shook in her hand, but the other glowed with the light of her magic. She traced the lines with her finger, finishing in a circular arc. Once more, the amber light pulsed and turned gold the moment the rune was finished. This time, the paper combusted into crimson flames, burning hot and tall before finally falling to the ground and snuffing out.

“Earth and fire?” Riven cocked his head back, impressed. “Those are two powerful gifts.”

Feron shook his head. “One gift. Of unknown and untapped potential.” He turned to Gwyn. “Do you feel tired at all?”

She smirked and shook her head. “I feel like I never need to sleep again.” She drew the fire rune once more and giggled as a ball of flame hung in the air for a few moments before dropping to the ground.

“Do spell wielders grow weary more quickly than other wielders?” I asked. Feron’s mindwalking gift took more from him than his earth wielding, just as shifting between forms depleted my own gifts more quickly.

Feron blinked. “There is no such thing as a spell wielder.” His lips pursed, studying Gwyn once more. “Until now.”

Gwyn’s eyes went wide and a sly smile crept up her lips. “Until now,” she repeated under her breath.

I froze. “You have never seen magic like this before?”

Feron shook his head. “Mages and some Elves were practiced in the art of spell casting. But it was never like this. Runes were the foundation of the spell, but they would spend weeks waiting for the stars and moon to align as they harvested the correct ingredients. And I never saw a spell that worked so directly as this.”

“Not even the Faemothers?” Riven crossed his arms.

Feron shook his head. “None of theniinokwenarnor their descendants have ever held this power. At least not to my knowledge.” He turned to Gwyn and uttered the same cursed words Elaran had. “You, my child, are something entirely new.”

Gwyn lifted her chin and claimed a name for herself. “An Amber Fae.”

I bit my cheek. “But what does that mean? If I turn any more Halflings into Fae, they could all have powers that you have never seen?”

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