Page 37 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
Selene shook her head as Axel flexed his paws against Harlow’s leg and then nestled into her side for a nap. “Perhaps. Sometimes feelings of protectiveness or heightened stress can trigger it. Li-li, this explains why she’s such a late bloomer. Striders typically don’t come into their power until they’re twenty-five or six. Sometimes later.”
Annoyance prickled at the corners of Harlow’s awareness. “Stop talking about me. I’m right here.” She felt a mug press into her hands.
Larkin smiled at her gently. “Drink up.”
Selene nodded, urging her on. “It won’t always be like this, bun. A Strider’s initial manifestation is typically a bit dramatic. It’s addled you a bit. Drink your tea.”
“Tea solves everything,” Larkin whispered.
Axel darted forward from his spot next to Harlow and she opened her eyes more fully to watch him eat from a plate of plain chicken. She sipped from the warm mug slowly; Larkin was right, tea did solve everything. Thankfully, everyone stopped speaking while she drank.
Thea returned with a thick leather-bound book that looked as though it had sustained terrible water damage. She already had it open when she handed it to Aurelia. Mother nodded as she read a few pages, and then handed the book to Selene.
Harlow started to feel more like herself, the wooziness wearing off slowly as she sipped the fragrant Duke and Duchess tea, breathing in the comforting scent of lavender, vanilla and rose. She flexed her fingers. They ached slightly, but the inky stain was starting to fade.
Axel finished eating and then climbed into her lap, turned thrice, and then curled his nose into his long tail. His soft, rhythmic purrs soothed her further as she stroked his fur, which was in poor shape after six months with Mark. They’d fix all that—there were veterinary experts in the Order—she’d make sure he saw the best ones, sorcière who’d fix him up, and fit him with his own protective sigil that would keep anyone from harming him again.
Her mind drifted back to the conversation at hand. What the maters were saying was perplexing, but something deep within her warmed to the ideas they discussed. It all made a certain kind of sense.
“What’s a Strider?” she asked when she’d drained her mug.
Larkin was reading the book now, her eyebrows raised, her open mouth covered with one hand. “A bridge between the aether and Okairos,” she murmured from behind her hand.
Meline and Indigo came downstairs. “There’s no one here. We swept twice,” Indigo said softly to Selene. Even though the wards were set up to indicate such things with a high degree of accuracy, the maters had instilled a value in their girls not to solely depend on magic. Magic, like all things, was fallible.
Meline read over Larkin’s shoulder. “Harlow can use pure magic? She doesn’t have to weave threads or use spells?”
Selene shrugged. “That’s what Grandmama always said. Spells and weaving didn’t work for her once she’d manifested. She had to do everything by instinct. She was one of the last of a line of sorcière that could access magic at its source. I haven’t heard of another coming into power for years, but that’s not surprising. The Illuminated don’t like them much, as you might imagine; it’s likely they hide, if any still exist.”
All of her sisters spoke at once. Harlow couldn’t make out one vein of the conversation, let alone a quarter dozen. She was trying to parse out the idea that she would no longer be able to do spells, or weave threads of magic in the ways she was used to, but they were allso noisy. It had happened toher, and no one had asked her howshefelt about it.
“Stop. Talking.About. Me,” Harlow hissed. Strands of magic around her snapped and she watched her fingers stain with dark, inky magic. Her vision darkened slightly, as though she’d slipped sunglasses on. Axel’s ears swiveled, but he did not move. In fact, he seemed even more relaxed.
Everyone quieted as they turned to look at her.
“Oh Harlow,” Thea breathed. “You’re divine.”
Indigo nodded. “The embodiment of Akatei.”
“Hush, don’t be blasphemous,” Meline cut her off. But Meline switched her phone’s screen to front-camera and showed Harlow her face, as though she held up a mirror. Harlow’s eyes had gone completely dark, pinpricks of galaxies being born or dying lighting from deep within. And the filaments of magic swirling around her fingers undulated in formless waves, like liquid shadow, rather than the usual iridescent strands she was used to seeing.
“Put that down,” Harlow commanded her sister. Her voice sounded strange, like hers, but something more. So it hadn’t just been the apartment’s acoustics. Meline put the phone down instantly. It was the fastest she’d seen one of the twins obey, ever.
“Harlow, calm down,” Aurelia said, taking Harlow’s dark blue fingers in hers. “We’ll explain everything. Girls, could you give me and Mama a few minutes with your sister?”
Slowly, her sisters dispersed. Harlow watched Thea usher them upstairs, and she knew exactly which step her eldest sister sat on in the stairwell to eavesdrop. It wasn’t her heightened senses that told her this, though she thought they might be able to capture such an image, but rather years of sisterly experience. She’d sat on that step with Thea, dozens of times, listening to what went on in the shop below, when she was supposed to be abed.
The familiar childhood memory of eavesdropping with Thea on Order meetings brought her back to herself. She felt the magic recede and her vision cleared to show her a matched set of worried mothers. Axel sighed deeply in his sleep, turning on his side so she could rub his soft belly fur. “So, are you going to explain what’s happening to me now?”
Selene draped an arm around her and hugged her. “Your magical talent has manifested, my love. And it’s a bit different than we expected it might be.”
“Though perhaps we should have seen the signs earlier,” Aurelia mused as she flipped through the pages of the Merkhov book, which had no title, only a damaged black leather cover. A mild mildew scent floated up from the pages, confirming that it had either been damaged by water or stored someplace damp. “It says here that Striders often tend to feel displaced and misunderstood.”
Something heavy lifted from Harlow’s heart. “Really?” Her head was starting to clear.
Aurelia nodded. “Yes, it also says that Striders tend to be competent, and even good at many things before their magic matures, which can further confuse them. I am so sorry, Harlow, I should have hunted this book down sooner, knowing that your great-grandmother was a Strider herself.”
“But what is a Strider? Why can’t I weave threads or use spells?”
