Page 82 of The Spark that Ignites
And with each day, she tamed her beastly magic, even if the progress was painfully slow. Whether it made her worthy for the prophecy, she didn’t know, but if it meant she wouldn’t hurt anyone else by losing control, she would throw everything into training.
On the positive side, trust had formed between her and Briar, though she couldn’t say the same for Callias. Once, Vesper caught her sifting through the papers on his desk for information on Izora’s spell, and though she argued it was curiosity, there was skepticism in his eyes. But if he was truly concerned, he didn’t let on. Maybe he just underestimated her.However, time raced by for them to gather the items for Izora’s spell and restoring the kingdom consumed all his time.
A few nights ago, Vesper and Callias left to address some secret business and not even Marlys or Briar knew. Emmery overheard snips of conversation one night, but not enough to piece together.
Something about beasts.
That morning, like all the others, Emmery stood in the training room with Briar, her extended hand grasping at empty air. She narrowed her eyes at the taunting candle, willing her magic to extend beyond her touch, though it was like tearing off her arm and tossing it aimlessly at a target. It had been a week and all she had done was glare at that lightless wick. At least she had finally stopped burning all her clothes off and learned to steer her flame.
Emmery had learned magic was tied to adrenaline, emotion, heart rate, and the speed in which her blood pumped through her body. But Briar promised she could channel it through breathwork with practice. Eventually.
Sighing her frustrations, Emmery rubbed her eyes. “Pretty sure you’re just trying to torture me.”
Briar paced, probably growing impatient with Emmery’s struggle. “Projecting for the first time and recognizing the sensation is the hardest. But once you know the feeling it's easy. Like breathing.” She rubbed her flawlessly manicured fingers together. “Come on, this place is freezing. We could use some heat. Remember it’s like grasping pebbles. Small amounts. The smaller the magical fragment, the easier it is to control.”
Pebbles. She could do that.
Emmery scoured her mind, separating each bit. The air constricted as her blood rushed, and magic buzzed in her veins like a million tiny insects. It flowed from her chest to her fingertips, sweat pricking her forehead from exertion, butinstead of unleashing it, she funnelled one small fragment. Cracking an eyelid, she spotted the golden spark nestled in her palm.
Briar clapped, grinning. “Now send it, Emmy. Make it your bitch.”
Emmery blew out a jittery breath. Squeezing her eyes harder, she visualized the flame roaring to life on the wick. Bright. Alive. An extension beyond her touch, yet still part of her.
Her eyes sprang open.
And there it was.
A flickering golden flame devouring the candle wick. An astonished smile tugged at Emmery’s lips.
She did it. Sheactuallydid it.
Briar smirked smugly. “I didn’t doubt you for a second. Have a little faith in yourself. And you’re progressing quickly. We can start working more complex shields next. Walls and barriers too. And—” When she met Emmery’s tired eye, she clamped her mouth shut. “No, you’re right. We should take it slow.”
Slumping against the wall, Emmery dabbed at her sticky forehead. “I’ve been suppressing my magic for so long ... it’s hard for me to let go I guess.” She shrugged like it was nothing, but the admission was a weighted lump of coal in her gut.
Briar slid down beside her, propping her arms on her bent knees. “It was like that for me too.” She subtly swirled her fingers, and the shadows leapt to swath them in a black shade. “Where I came from, there were strict laws on how and when Hollow magic was used.”
Emmery caressed a silken shadow with her fingertip. “You’re from an island close by?”
“The Cresswell Isles.” As she spun her finger her shadows became an obsidian tornado. “My brother and I left when I was only eight. Caught a ship to the mainland.”
Emmery lit her fingertips, and her flame kissed each one, before she dashed them away. “When did you meet Vesper?”
“We met him at Castle Dusk, but we met his father shortly after my brother and I ran from an orphanage. We were scrounging for food at the time and things were looking pretty grim. But he offered us shelter. We didn’t trust him of course, but we had nowhere else to go. We were just children at the time. He fed us, clothed us, gave us purpose.” She scattered the shadows. “He did that. Found people who needed help and offered it freely.”
Briar rubbed her eyebrow, adding, “I called him Daddy Malachi for the first few years we lived here, and he never balked at it. Let me pretend. The name stuck until the day he passed.”
Her fond tone struck Emmery in the chest. “It sounds like you were in the right place at the right time. Fate has a way of doing that.” Emmery glanced at Briar’scavae, peeking through the deep vee in her tunic. “What was it like growing up Hollow?”
She snorted a humourless laugh but smirked. “It was fuckingawful. Children chosen by Deimos are treated like trash. You know it’s illegal to marry or have children with a Fallen? Because they want to keep the bloodlines ascleanas possible. Like the world would suddenly be overrun with filthy Hollow babies.”
Briar rolled her eyes. “Allegedly children who have parentage from both gods are always chosen by Deimos. The premise is ludicrous.”
Emmery worried her lip. She could see how Izora’s magic in particular could be dangerous if exploited, but the rest of Hollow magic seemed harmless. An aid to society even. Studying her flame, she asked, “Would you change it? If you could be Fallen, would you?”
Briar drummed her fingers on her knee, quiet for a contemplative moment. “No. Despite my upbringing, I’m proudto follow Deimos.” She rested a red tipped nail on hercavae. “But it’swhatI am. NotwhoI am. You’re lucky you’re both.”
Stomach cinching, Emmery swallowed her guilt. Mostly for her ungratefulness, because she hardly felt lucky. “Why do you say that?”
