Page 80 of Magic in My Bones

“You’re doing well,” Rowan said softly, their voice like a balm to the rawness I hadn’t realized was there. “Let go of the fear, Ren. Let it flow out, like a river washing away everything it doesn’t need.”

The air around us seemed to shift, thick with something that felt like energy, but not the kind of oppressive, heavy magic I was used to. This was lighter, freer. It was like I could feel myself becoming untangled, all the places where my mind and emotions had twisted together slowly loosening under Rowan’s guidance.

I exhaled, a long, drawn-out breath that felt like the first one I’d taken in ages. As I did, I could feel something else stir, something deep inside me that had been locked away, too afraid to come out. But now, under the calm pressure of Rowan’s feather and the sound of their voice, it felt safe.

“There’s strength in you, Ren,” Rowan said, their voice still soft but steady. “You don’t have to carry the weight of all that doubt and fear anymore. You’ve carried it for so long, but it doesn’t have to be your burden.”

I opened my eyes, staring at the feather as it swayed gently through the air. My breath had steadied, my heart felt lighter, and though there were still shadows in my mind, they weren’t as overwhelming anymore.

“I can feel it,” I whispered, almost in disbelief. “The fear isn't... as heavy.”

Rowan smiled, a quiet, knowing smile. “That’s because you’ve begun to let go of it. The more we allow our energy to move, the more we release the hold those old imprints have on us. You can choose to carry only what serves you, Ren. And right now, what you need is peace.”

Dorian’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but warm. “Rowan’s good at what they do. And I think, Ren, you might find this kind of work useful in the future, if you ever need it.” His gaze met mine, his eyes filled with quiet reassurance. “It’s not just about fixing things. It’s about giving yourself the space to find balance.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the truth of his words settle into my chest like a steady beat. The room was calm now, quieter than before, but there was still a hum in the air, a subtle magic that made everything feel a little less heavy.

Rowan set the feather aside, their hands resting gently in their lap. “How do you feel, Ren?”

I took another breath, feeling the air fill my lungs with a renewed sense of lightness. “I... I feel clearer,” I said, my voice quieter now, but there was a softness to it that hadn’t been there before. “Less... tangled. It’s like I can actually breathe.”

Rowan’s smile deepened. “That’s great,” they said. “I’m so glad I was able to help. I should be heading home, though,” Rowan said, their voice tinged with warmth and a hint of regret. “Cassian's waiting for me, and I promised I'd be back for dinner.”

“Of course,” Dorian replied, rising from his chair with the grace of a cat stretching after a long nap. “We'll see you out.”

As Rowan gathered their things, I felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. The heaviness that had been weighing me down all day seemed to have lifted, replaced by a sort of floaty lightness that made me feel like I could drift away on the slightest breeze. It was as if someone had opened a window in a stuffy room, letting in fresh air and the scent of possibility.

I followed them to the door, my feet feeling oddly disconnected from the ground. Bones trotted alongside us, his bony tail wagging with enthusiasm. As we stepped out into thecrisp evening air, the sky had transformed into a canvas of deep purples and brilliant oranges, like some cosmic artist had gone wild with a celestial paintbrush.

Rowan turned to face us, their eyes twinkling in the fading light. “Thank you for having me,” they said, their gaze lingering on me. “And Ren, anytime you need me, you just give me a call. I provide my services free of charge to the students here at Blackstone. It’s the least I can do.”

I watched Rowan disappear into the twilight, their hooves barely making a sound on the cobblestone path. The air around me still hummed with residual energy, like the afterglow of a particularly spectacular fireworks show. I felt lighter than I had in weeks, as if someone had taken a cosmic vacuum cleaner to my soul and sucked out all the gunk.

Dorian's hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. “Come,” he said, his voice warm. “Let's get you something to eat. You look like you could use a good meal.”

I followed him back inside, the cozy interior of the cottage welcoming me like a warm hug. Bones trotted ahead, his bony tail clicking against the hardwood floor. The smell of cinnamon and cloves still lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of brewing tea.

The sounds of Dorian in the kitchen were comfortingly domestic. The clink of pots, the whoosh of magical flame igniting on the stove, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. Even the way he hummed under his breath, some old folk song I didn't recognize, made me feel at home in a way I hadn't experienced in years.

“Are you actually cooking, or are you just making it sound like you're cooking?” I called out, grinning despite my lingering emotional exhaustion.

His warm chuckle floated back to me. “Cheeky brat. I'll have you know I'm making my grandmother's potato and leek soup. Complete with fresh-baked bread.”

The smell of herbs and garlic wafted through the air, making my stomach growl appreciatively. It was these simple, domestic magic moments of being here with him that made everything else feel manageable.

As Dorian busied himself in the kitchen, I wandered into the living room, my eyes roaming over the familiar bookshelves and curios. Everything seemed a little sharper, a little more vibrant than before. The colors of the book spines popped like neon signs, and the various magical artifacts scattered around the room seemed to hum with an energy I'd never noticed before.

“How are you feeling?” Dorian called from the kitchen, the sound of chopping vegetables punctuating his words.

“I feel... different,” I called back to Dorian, my voice sounding far away even to my own ears. “Like someone hit the 'defog' button on my brain.”

Dorian's warm chuckle drifted from the kitchen. “That's Rowan's gift. They have a way of clearing out the cobwebs, so to speak.”

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. My gaze drifted to Dorian's desk, a sprawling mahogany monstrosity covered in stacks of papers, half-melted candles, and an assortment of curious objects that looked like they belonged in a museum of the bizarre.

But something unusual caught my eye, a glint of silver peeking out from beneath a pile of parchment. Curiosity got the better of me, and I gently removed the papers piled atop the object, revealing a delicate silver chain etched with intricate runes that seemed to writhe and dance in the flickering firelight.

“Hey, Dorian?” I called.

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