Page 22 of Cursed Evermore
This was what it would feel like when I went to Zyvaris. I’d be in a room full of people just like I was now and still feel like I was the only person walking around on the face of the earth.
And as for my magic…
Would I ever feel it again?
There was little point in talking to Grandmother about a solution when she’d laid all talk of magic to rest. I was literally fucked and on my own when it came to regaining my powers.
I’d accepted I’d never be able to practice magic in the mortal realm, but that didn’t mean I wanted to lose myself.
I didn’t want to lose my powers from my own foolish mistakes, and I didn’t want them to be stripped from me either. The latter may not be up to me, but for now
I had to get them back. If only to feel them one last time.
I thought of the grounding spell I'd been using over the last few days. It was supposed to balance my mind and help me stabilize my powers.
Ideally, it should be performed somewhere like the woods where I could feel the energy from the earth. But I felt I needed to keep trying it, no matter where I was.
I decided to take advantage of being alone. And sorry everyone, I had to break my promise.
I rested my elbows on the table and placed a hand to my forehead before closing my eyes. If anyone looked at me, they’d just think I was tired and taking a rest.
‘Salavie melavwy, valgor melavwy. Salavie melavwy, valgor melavwy.’
The chant flowed through my mind and I focused on every soothing magical word. It was a basic spell but felt more like one of the old mage prayers beseeching the Blessed Mother. I chanted the words in my mind over and over again, and focused on finding that feeling that always came to me when my magic was within my grasp.
But there was nothing. Nothing at all.
It was like searching around in the darkness again and not knowing where to go. Backwards, forwards, left, right.
I paused for a beat, drew in a breath and searched my mind.
But then there was a flicker. A faint spark of…silver?
It was silver. Silver in the dark, flickering like the flame on a candle.
I’d never seen anything like that before.
I stared at it, trying to figure out what it was then suddenly, the silver spark spiraled into rich threads of energy. It looped around and around, reaching for me.
It touched my face, tantalizing my skin with a soothing caress that beckoned me to lift my head and open my eyes. The feelingthat came from it was like an unspoken whisper in my soul telling me what to do.
I did as it prompted, lifting my head, then opening my eyes slowly. And my gaze met the sharp, silvery-blue eyes of a man sitting across from me, not ten feet away.
His eyes were too harsh. Too piercing. Too assessing. Like a hunter sizing up prey. They held no softness. No kindness.
No mercy.
The chiseled cut of his jaw framed a warrior’s face carved from marble, shadows, and war. A contradiction of lethal grace and untamed beauty, marred only by the scar running across his cheek. It gave him a roguish look.
Even so, he was easily the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life.
How hadn’t I noticed him before? He wasn’t the kind of man you could miss.
He looked like he’d just stepped out of a storm. A force of nature made flesh.
The midnight-black cloak draped over his shoulders wrapped him in shifting shadows that nearly concealed the fitted leather tunic beneath.
The only interruptions to the darkness were the crisscrossing brown leather straps across his torso—likely securing weapons—and the gold beads woven into the dark strands of his beard. Each bead caught the firelight like tiny embers, flickering over the brutal stillness of his form.
