Page 83 of A Touch of Stars and Stones
Stop.
I can’t go down that path. “Kyra?”
“Yes?” her sing-song voice answers on a chirp.
“Would you… train with me?”
“Train?”
I sit up and raise my hand. “Touch. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to learn to master and control, but I have no idea how. Aurelia gave me a handful of useful instructions, but apart from that, the Custodians are rubbish teachers in that regard,” I tag on. “Would you just let me try?”
“It’s not really commonplace outside of training. Touch is limited between Kirrians until you find who you match with. Or a Triune.” Her answer is reserved and formal, and I regret my rash request.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s fine?—”
“No, I can. It’s maybe safer with me. I was born under a waxing crescent, only a few days from a new moon, so my power is limited. Even more than my brother’s.”
“I thought Aslendrix grants you magic? And your Advocate?”
“It’s a combination, when you are born during which phase of Aslendrix will signify your own strength of power to wield magic.”
“I don’t know when I was born.” My words are soft, but I swallow the rising emotion and focus. “But I promise I’ll be careful. At least, I think I can be. This is the whole point.”
“I know. Micah told me that you’ve never hurt him, just boosted his ability.”
“Sometimes it feels like I’m a conductor, even before the Transference. It feels like I can absorb power or make it bigger somehow, push it or pull it. I guess I need to learn what I can do.”
“Think of it like a well inside of you. Aslendrix will naturally fill that well during her phases. New moon to new moon. Yourstone will act as an anchor and conduit to help the ebb and flow, and as you tap into the power and use it, it will drain. Or you’ll use others’ power to boost it. Think of your power as one colour, and when you connect with another, the colour will mix and change. When you reach the point of connecting with two others, that’s when things can get tough. Because it’s past simply mixing the two, then. Completely new abilities can form. That’s why training takes so long and can be so hard. Three is our sacred number, and it’s because of what some can do when connected to others.”
Listening to Kyra’s explanation is like watching the candle light the room again, finally allowing me to see and understand.
“What are you smiling at?” she asks.
“I think you’re brilliant.” I close my eyes, the grin still on my face, as I settle and think about a well, or a body of water, in my chest, just below my necklace. As I visualise it, it seems to pulse as if answering me for the first time. “Oh my gosh!” I laugh, opening my eyes.
Kyra just looks at me like I’ve gone mad. But I really haven’t.
For the first time, IknowI haven’t. Hope rises, lifting me for the first time in days.
“Here.” I raise my palm again, eager to try and put the pieces together now that someone has given me more than a careless remark for an explanation. It might be second nature to those born here, but not to me.
She doesn’t hesitate and places her palm up to mine.
I close my eyes, focusing on the body of water I can now feel, as if my chest has suddenly made space for the power within me. And I imagine a small stream of that water, travelling up from that well and down my arm until it reaches my fingers and connects with Kyra.
As well as physically feeling the power, the little buzz or crackle on my skin, I can now envision it. It’s not blind thoughtor reaction, and I breathe in the relief as the small stream of water wraps my hand and entwines with Kyra’s.
She told me to imagine the coloured streams mixing, so that’s what I try and see—pressing it with my mind to mix with the breeze Kyra can create.
Sure enough, the wind that took out the candles now ruffles past our hair, whipping it around, much stronger than before, but controlled.
“I can feel you,” she breathes. “It’s not quite how I remember it, but I can feel you adding to my power.”
I keep my eyes shut, concentrating.
“Push a little harder. You’ve got this,” she encourages, but I drop her hand, almost frightened to do more.
“What happened?”
