Chapter 18

Dravyn

Somewhat reluctantly, I cleared my mind of all other thoughts and said, "Agreed."

Moth stayed behind, napping on the hilltop overlooking the pools, while Karys and I traveled farther north in search of a place that felt suitable for the work we intended to do.

The ground gradually became pale stone, smooth and shimmering, rather than grass. The hills straightened into a grey expanse that stretched beyond where we could see. The sky was darker here, the nearest forgelight now some distance behind us, casting everything in a shadowy, violet-edged, twilight kind of glow.

Finally, Karys paused, bracing her hand against a skinny tree, and said, "The air feels different here. Clearer."

I nodded. "What should we focus on, then?" I asked. "Do you want to practice transporting again?"

She bit her lip. Shook her head. "I don't want to practice running away."

"No? Then what?"

She considered the question for a moment, focusing on twisting her hair into a long braid and tying it off with a strip of leather she pulled from her coat pocket. Her hands fisted together as she lowered them back to her sides. The clenching motion quieted the restless fire that had begun to stir within her—a trick she had employed often during these past weeks. She was remarkably good at keeping herself from erupting, in spite of everything she'd been through. It was a talent I sometimes envied.

But now that we were out in the open with no one to witness it, with the warm breeze weaving encouragement and temptation around us, her fire didn't stay suppressed for long.

Little curls of flame appeared in the air, following the slender curve of her hand. She lifted that hand and stared at the smoke drifting up through the lines of her palm. Her breathing stilled and her eyes widened as though she was seeing her power—truly seeing it—for the first time.

Her voice was soft but certain as she lifted her eyes to mine and said, "I want to set fire to something."

A chill rushed over my skin. I knew the feeling far too well.

Gesturing to a grove of small, skinny trees in the distance, I said, "Take aim, then, Goddess."

She needed no more encouragement than this.

More flames sprung to her fingertips, wild and powerful—more powerful than she'd intended, I think.

She inhaled sharply. Refocused. Her chest heaved with the effort of taking deep, concentrated breaths. She swung her hand forward. The fire rushed out in a wave that overtook several of the trees—not just the ones she'd been aiming for, I gathered, based on the feeling of frustration that washed through her.

"Too messy," she muttered.

She tried again, summoning more fire, attempting to hone it into a spear-like shape. The form didn't hold; it got away from her as soon as she tried to throw it, the flames taking on a mind of their own, stretching wide and engulfing everything in their path once more.

She cursed.

I watched quietly, not intervening until her gaze flicked to mine with a silent plea, her lips curved down in uncertainty.

I stepped closer, then, placing one hand against her side to steady her while I brought the other one up to help guide her magic. I didn't try to control it or shape it myself; I merely countered it with my own power, forcing it back into form when it tried to rage out of control. It gave her more of an opportunity to focus on aiming. Allowed her to take a deep breath.

That was all she needed, really; her next attempt saw a precise arrow of flame strike the closest tree and set it—and only it—ablaze. It stood like a burning beacon, a herald of more power and precision to come.

She grew even more accurate once her initial fury and pent-up powers were released.

As the hour passed, she began hitting more and more targets, eventually challenging me to follow her shots with my own.

It quickly became a competition between us, trying to see who could strike the most targets, the most accurately, in the least amount of time. The small grove of trees was fast burned beyond use, so we left the smoldering corpses of them behind and raced across the land in search of more targets.

With every cluster of trees we ignited, her confidence grew and her restraint lessened. I'd rarely seen her so open, so relaxed, so… free .

And for what might have been the first time, the guilt I'd carried since stepping out of the Tower of Ascension with her eased somewhat.

Because in that moment, it was impossible to look at her and think she could have been anything other than a goddess, whether of Fire or otherwise.

We came to a hill overlooking a narrow creek. The trees along its banks were sparse, staggered, bent at odd angles in the mud—a challenge.

Karys summoned another javelin of flame, but paused to consider her attack.

"Getting tired?" I teased.

"Hardly," she panted.

I smiled.

"I could do this all day." She stood up a little straighter, catching her breath. "But let's say the next series of targets will decide the winner between us."

"Very well. A fair warning, though: if it's a proper competition, now, then I'll be taking it seriously."

She scoffed. "As if you weren't really trying before."

"I wasn't," I told her. "But now I will be. And I don't lose, I'm afraid. I don't think I even know how to."

"That's too bad." She finished catching her breath before smiling sweetly at me and adding, "I'm sure you'll get better at losing, though, the more we practice together."

I laughed at the taunt, summoning a spear of my own fire. "We'll see."

Her gaze narrowed on me at the challenge, and she kept it there as she pointed her fiery weapon toward the nearest tree.

Without warning, I swung my fire-wrapped hand forward, launching the javelin of flame toward the same tree.

She threw even faster, and her aim was deathly precise; the first target was hers.

With that, we were off, the game officially underway with a rush of smoke and searing wind.

After beating me to a dozen more targets, she glanced back while still racing forward. Her eyes blazed. Her smile was bright, her nostrils flaring as they inhaled what she believed to be the sweet scent of imminent victory. I even heard her thoughts already claiming that victory: I win .

But I'd spoken the truth.

I had no intention of losing.

I pushed harder, gathering speed before leaping into the air. Wings unfurled from my back, sending a shower of embers raining down. I soared high enough to see the entirety of our course trailing out below me. Fire swirled around both my hands this time.

I forged more than spears; the flames started as these simply-shaped weapons, but soon sprouted claws, lithe bodies, angled heads, and wings that rivaled my own in strength and size.

A controlling flick of my wrist, and the beasts roared brighter before combining into one that spiraled down, down, down, past Karys, weaving a path back and forth across the creek, setting fire to every tree and bush along the way.

We reached a spot where the creek spilled into a small, turquoise-colored lake—a finish line. I landed lightly on the edge of this larger body of water, turning to face Karys as she caught up.

"Better luck next time," I said, grinning.

"Cheater," she grumbled, tucking pieces of her disheveled braid back into place. "First the wings, and then summoning an extra beast to do your bidding?"

"It was not a separate beast," I informed her, still grinning despite the sour look she fixed on me. "It was an extension of myself, as are the wings."

She let out a sigh. "Fine. You win. This time , at least."

I flexed my right wing, concentrating magic toward a spot where the feathers were losing some of their definition. "It would probably be helpful if you remembered that, too, by the way—that your magic is an extension of you, I mean. Not a separate beast to be mastered."

I'd mentioned this to her before, but now, it seemed to trouble her for some reason.

She averted her gaze as she considered the words.

"Maybe that's my problem with all of this," she said after a moment. "I can't think of anything as an extension of myself for too long, because I'm not sure who that self is anymore. One moment I want to embrace the new wildly powerful, magical side of me. The next, I'm thinking about who I was before. I know it's useless, standing in the middle, yet I can't seem to get myself to step to one side or the other most of the time. So I keep losing my balance when the stakes are raised."

I frowned. "You've already managed to balance an impressive amount of magic for such a short period of time. More than any other goddess or god I can think of."

She shrugged off the compliment. "Maybe."

"And maybe you're being too hard on yourself."

She didn't respond to this. Her gaze drifted to my wings. "How long did it take you to master that particular extension of you?"

"Much longer than you've had," I said, pointedly.

She was undeterred. "Is traveling with them more difficult than transporting yourself from place to place with magic?"

"Yes and no."

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her ams, clearly not satisfied with this response.

"It requires more concentration in the beginning of the spell," I elaborated, "as well as more of your own power. But after that, I think it's easier, being in full control of where you're going."

She turned this over in silence, craning her neck to better see her back, as if mapping out the best spots and proper angles any appendages could sprout from.

"It's harder to do it when you're standing perfectly still on the ground," I told her, "and not in need of wings."

"So you're saying I should wait until we're in the middle of a competition…when I need to cheat in order to beat you?"

I smirked. "Well, yes, necessity can be an excellent teacher."

"In other words, you're admitting you needed to cheat to beat me?" She poked me in the chest. I feigned a pained expression as I caught her hand and stopped its jabbing, making her laugh and roll her eyes.

Absently intertwining my fingers with hers, I said, "I still remember the first successful flight I managed."

"And what necessitated it?"

"Valas shoved me off the top of my palace's tallest tower."

Her brows lifted at this, but her expression quickly turned thoughtful as she turned to stare in the direction of that palace we'd left behind—thinking of potential high places that could be utilized, I suspected.

I shook my head. "I will not be shoving you off a tower. Don't get any ideas."

Her lips quirked as she looked back at me. "Find another way to teach me, then," she said, eyes burning with this new challenge.

There would be no talking her out of at least trying to fly today, I was certain.

"See what you can do on the ground, first," I suggested. "Summoning the wings themselves is the first step. Then we'll see about using them."

"You said it was harder to summon them while on the ground."

"It is. But it's also safer, and if you can master it under these circumstances, then calling them forth when you actually need them should be even easier."

She didn't argue against this logic. She fell silent and watched me expectantly, studying my every breath and movement as I made my wings disappear, only to bring them back with a burst of smoke and heat.

She copied my movements with the methodical precision I'd come to expect from her. It wasn't enough; not even a hint of feathers appeared at her back.

"It's not the sort of spell you can memorize and go through the motions with," I explained. "You have to feel it out."

She exhaled a quiet, frustrated little noise.

"Just imagine they're already there," I offered. "Something that has been inside of you all along…tucked inside your coat at the moment, perhaps."

She looked doubtful, yet determined to keep trying. Her forehead creased in concentration as she closed her eyes. They remained closed as she shrugged free of that coat.

No wings emerged as the heavy garment fell away—but after a minute, something else did.

The outline of a massive creature began to take shape around her, its lines of fire etching into the air, the glowing strokes extending far higher and wider than either of us.

I blinked several times, and the form being drawn grew clearer—similar to the eagle I often became, but altogether different. More elegant, more smooth…not like that hulking bird that featured on my family's crest, but more like a creature I'd only ever witnessed in paintings and in storybooks as a child.

A phoenix?

The form never fully materialized. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, lasting no more than a single, awestruck breath. The glowing edges gave way to smoke and ash that fell like snow over Karys, prompting her to sneeze and open her eyes.

She didn't seem to realize she'd done anything impressive; she watched the ashes fall around her with her lips pressed into a clearly disappointed pout.

I tried not to stare.

How could I explain what I'd just seen?

Had I imagined it?

No, I didn't think so. There was more power sleeping within her than either of us realized. And I still had no desire to push her off a tower, but maybe…

"On second thought, let's try something different," I said, abruptly. "Something more challenging."

She stopped wiping the ash from her shoulders long enough to give me a bemused look.

I didn't explain, or give her time to protest or overthink what we were doing. I swept forward, gathered her into my arms, and we were soaring toward the sky before she could even let out a gasp.