Page 13 of The Discovered
“When have I not been cooperative?” I batted my eyelashes. “Maybe you’re just too demanding.”
“Or, you’re too defiant,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He didn’t seem used to being challenged. “Now, then, let’s begin. For most witches, the key is learning how to raise enough energy to bend to one’s will. You don’t have any trouble summoning the power,” he explained. “You have access to plenty of it. You just lack control. You allow your emotions and impulses to free-channel, which can be highly draining, not to mention outright dangerous to you and others.”
“Maybe I want to be dangerous,” I said quietly, flashing him a warning look.
Daelon was unbothered. “Be that as it may, you’re not going to be very effective when your emotions can be used against you so easily. Your enemies will seek to use any weakness to their advantage to make up for being outmatched.”
“Who are these enemies, exactly?” I tried.
“Áine,” Daelon said in warning. “You agreed to focus on training before we discussed the rest. Once you have better control, I promise I will tell you everything I know. I don’t need you on a revenge path before you’re ready. You would get yourself killed. And me, for that matter.”
I studied him, looking for any sign of deceit. His gaze was steady and earnest. He might’ve had a point, because the sharp pushes and pulls of my power already reached for me as I thought about my budding plan for revenge. The room’s energy grew as intense and volatile as a tropical storm.
“You’re angry. Why?” Daelon implored. “If this is going to work, you’re going to need to be honest about what you’re feeling.”
“Because these enemies you won’t tell me about killed my mothers,” I blurted. I looked away. My fingernails dug into my knees through the thin fabric of my leggings.
Daelon was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I, too, know that kind of loss and grief.” His eyes were soft and sincere, a layer of vulnerability peeking out through the cracks of his shield. “Sometimes we lean heavier on anger when we’re in pain, but I promise revenge will be much more satisfying if it comes from a place of strength and transformation rather than destruction.” He suddenly looked surprised by his own words, like he was trying to convince the both of us.
I wanted to ask him who he’d lost, but he leaned closer.
“I will help you on this path, should you choose it. You have my word.” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet I heard each syllable with glaring intensity. Something dark and heavy brewed in his eyes, mirroring the storm I felt beyond the horizon, awaiting my command to come rolling in.
I swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
He nodded, the muscles in his face relaxing.
“Where does this power come from?” I asked.
And just like that, the power stirred at the mention, tugging at me from all directions and whispering to me in a tongue more universal than any human language. The source felt timeless—utterly transcendent—as sure as the moon rising each night and the grass collecting dew in the spring.
“From everywhere. It’s the current that runs through all things. From the moon, the stars, the seasons, every living thing, every action and reaction, from earth, water, wind, and fire, from death, birth, hatred, and love. Witches do not create power. We harness from and transform forces that already exist.”
“Okay, Yoda,” I laughed.
I wasn’t used to being around someone who understood who I was and what I was capable of—someone who not only accepted my magick—but was in awe of it.
Daelon frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
I scoffed. “Witches aren’t Star Wars fans, huh?”
“Is this television?” Daelon cocked his head, his cluelessness sort of endearing to behold.
“Yes,” I giggled. “It’stelevision.” Not making cultural references after living with Steph and Rena for years was going to be difficult. They were like walking pop-culture encyclopedias. At least I was no longer the one who couldn’t keep up. I felt a pang of sadness as I thought of them, but loss and change were not unfamiliar to me. So, I stifled it.
“Sorry, my human knowledge is sorely lacking. You’ll find that witches have much different forms of entertainment here.” Daelon smiled to himself as if remembering another inside joke. “Are you ready to focus now?”
I nodded reluctantly, my gaze still narrow with skepticism.
“We’re going to go through some exercises that will help you connect with and manage your power. You were born with more access to these natural forces than the average witch. It’s like you’re an energy beacon—constantly channeling an extraordinary amount of power freely with your mind alone, rather than ever having to use ritual, invocation, or the help of other witches for aid.”
I tried to follow Daelon’s words, but it all seemed so foreign and complicated to me. All I knew was the raw intensity at my fingertips, and the wealth of emotions, impulses, and intents emanating from everyone who had ever—or would ever—live, feel, and breathe. I was itching to feel their rush again.
Daelon sighed and shot me a pointed look, probably noticing that I had mentally jumped ship. “Patience, little witch.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced he couldn’t read my thoughts.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
