Page 37 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“There’s nothingphysicallywrong with you,” he says.
I feel a flare of frustration at his answer, crossing my arms. “You’re saying I’m making this up?”
“No, of course not.” He sighs. “You sense inner flames, right? People’s life spark?”
“Yes,” I say, surprised. I haven’t actually told Mal about that.
He nods. “I saw you doing it with some of our wounded once. Celestial power, celestial flame, it makes sense.”
I’d be more impressed by his deduction skills if it wasn’t for the worry still knotting in my stomach. “Alright, but what has that got to do with me?”
“Sickness and injury aren’t the only things that can diminish an inner flame.” He drops his gaze, his tone softening. “Whatever you went through with the Temple…I can’t imagine you came out of it without some trauma, and that can affect people’s inner flame, weakening it and their magic.”
“That can’t be true,” I argue. “My power…the first time I used it was in anincrediblytraumatic situation.”
Mal tilts his head, thinking. “An isolated event can definitely be traumatic, but what happened in Qimorna lasted for weeks. That wears on you in a different way. On top of that, I have a theory that a situation like this effects solari more than most. You guys rely much more on your celestial spark to use your powers. If that’s diminished, I’d guess it can have serious effects.”
So that’s it? My magic’s just run off because the going got too tough? Frustration flares inside me. I don’t have the option to lose my power right now—or to give in to that twisting in my gut, for that matter. I can’t let it all swallow me up when people are relying on me.
I’m about to ask Mal how he thinks I can fix it when a high-pitched ringing like a bell echoes through the cave.
“That’s the alarm,” he says, eyes wide. “Someone’s trying to get inside.”
Chapter 12
Morgana
“We need to go check on the others,” he says, quickly stowing the medical supplies. “We could be under attack.” I hurry after him as he runs back to the main cave.
“You’re sure it’s an intruder?” I ask as we go. “Couldn’t it just be someone from the Hand?”
“No, the alarm is geostri magic. It trips if someone tries any magic on the stoneface behind the tunnel. It means someone knows we’re here but doesn’t know the way in. The tunnel in the outhouse is glamoured too. Harman paid a fae traveler to do it; you can’t see it unless you know it’s there.”
Four more rebels are gathered around the entrance to the cave, staring up into the tunnel. A repetitive banging echoes down from the surface.
“Can we get eyes on what’s going on up there?” Mal asks them.
“Peler is trying now,” one of them mutters, nodding toward a young man with his eyes closed.
“Peler’s good with amphibians, frogs mostly,” Mal says to me. I nod, assuming he can use his magic to communicate with them like Damia does with snakes.
“I’ve got one up by the outhouse,” Peler explains. His brow furrows. “But it’s strange. The little guy can’t see anything out there. It’s like the sun’s set—it’s pitch black.”
A prickle runs its way up my spine as the banging gets louder. Something hits the stone above ground hard, making dust fall from the ceiling of the cave. Whoever it is is shouting too, a muffled voice carrying down the tunnel.
I take a step up the steep slope, closer to the source of the sound.
“What are you doing?” Mal asks, grabbing my wrist.
“I’m just listening,” I reassure him, straining my ears to make out the shouts.
“They’re calling for Harman,” I say, inching closer, trying to make out the other words. “And Leon.”
There’s something familiar about the voice, even muffled by the earth and the banging. Then it hits me.
“You said it’s like night out there?” I ask Peler.
“Yes,” he nods.
