“Will that cause more damage to the sea?”
“No,” he says. “Why do you think you’ll die if you don’t use your magic?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s a gift, and it’s meant to be used. Spells and charms burn away the magic once they’re cast. The reason your rushes are so damaging is because the magic is just sitting in the sea, restless and edgy. That’s why the currents are getting so much worse.” He’s back to being angry, his words pointed and accusatory.
“I understand,” I say.
“Do you?”
His question hangs in the space between us, and I breathe it in, let it settle in my core. Then I level my gaze at him. “Yes.”
“Good. Let’s get started.” He takes off his shoes and walks toward the shore until the waves roll over his feet. I do the same.
“High magic is all about balance. It requires respect and patience from the one who wields it. It requires discipline. The only time you ever come close to using a significant amount of magic is during your rush, a ritual that fully takes over you. But you can’t lose yourself in high magic the way you do during a rush. You have to constantly assess how the world around you is responding to the energy you’re using. It’s rhythmic, just like the tides. If you learn only one thing tonight, let it be this: magic isn’t about you. It’s about the Earth.”
He lets his statement hang in the air, and I’m shocked when the words cause something in me to stir, as if that truth has always been inside me and I’m just now realizing it.
“Let’s start with something easy,” he says.
My heart slams against my rib cage, so loud and fast I wonder if Wolfe can hear it over the sound of the waves.
“Do you feel the breeze coming off the water?” he asks.
“Yes.” Fear has stolen my voice, making the word sound rough and quiet.
“It’s easier to work with things that already exist around us. Much easier than creating something from nothing. Now, close your eyes,” he says.
I watch him, wary and nervous, scared and uncertain. I don’t think I can do it.
“You’re safe,” he assures me. “You’re not doing anything unnatural. As much as you want to resist it, this magic—what we’re doing tonight—lives in you. Close your eyes.”
I want to argue with that, but he’s trying to help me, so I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can still feel his stare on me in the emptiness of my stomach and the hammering of my heart, the goose bumps on my skin and the heat of my neck.
“We’re going to let the wind carry us above the water.”
Levitation. My eyes fly open, and I shake my head. “Absolutely not,” I say. “I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because… because it’s so obviously…” My words trail off.
“It’s so obviously high magic?”
I nod.
“Yeah, well, that’s what we’re here to do. Just think—if you’re successful, you’ll never have to use it again.” Something changes in his expression when he says it, as if he thinks it’s the saddest thing he’s ever heard. Then he takes a step closer to me, and another, and another, until he’s so close I can smell the spicy scent of his soap, see the moonlight glisten off each strand of hair. “What should scare you most about tonight isn’t that you’re about to use high magic, Mortana. What should scare you most is that you’re going to want to use it again.”
I stare at him, my palms beginning to sweat. “You’re wrong.”
“Not about this,” he says. He watches me for another moment, then speaks again. “Moving on. You’re inherently connected to every living thing on this Earth. That is our role, and as soon as you learn to recognize that connection, you can start practicing high magic.”
I nod along to his words. When I’m working in the perfumery, I don’t have to spend time wondering which flowers or herbs will work best with the kind of magic I’m infusing into them. I just know. My hands reach for the things I need and leave the things I don’t. It isn’t something I think about. It’s something I do.
“Close your eyes and concentrate on the wind. It will pull at something inside you, and all you have to do is let it.”
I nod again and do as he says. I focus on the way the air cuts through my hair and across my skin, the way I could almost feel it inside myself if I were still enough. I instinctively spread my arms out and turn my palms toward the sky. I tilt my head back and breathe deeply.
Magic rises in my belly as if it wants to touch the breath in my lungs.
“Just like that.” Wolfe’s words fuel me, and as I breathe more of the wind, more magic rises to touch it.
After several seconds, it’s no longer clear to me where the air ends and my magic begins. We are connected, just like when I’m working in the perfumery. Except instead of dried herbs and flowers, it’s wind.
“Let yourself fall backward and tell the wind to carry you,” Wolfe says.
It sounds so absurd, so easy, so harmless when he puts it that way. I’m scared, but if I fall, I know the water will catch me, so I do what he says.
I focus on the connection and fall back. “Please catch me,” I whisper into the night, and as I do, the world responds.
I gasp as my body rises out of the water and into the air. Magic comes alive in every part of me, as if it’s dancing through my veins, as if it’s been waiting its whole life for this.
My eyes fill with tears, but I keep them shut, terrified of losing the connection.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper, unable to keep the emotion from my voice.
“Pretty incredible, right?”
I open my eyes, and Wolfe is right beside me, floating in the air, his back to the water. He’s looking at me in a way I can’t describe, the hard lines of his face softer now, the sharp edges sanded down.
He’s beautiful.
I startle as soon as the thought enters my mind, losing my thread of magic and falling into the water below.
Wolfe looks down at me with a smirk, then joins me in the waves.
“You were doing so well. What happened?”
“I got distracted,” I say, completely mortified.
“That was good for your first time. Let’s do it again.”
It’s easy to find the connection now that I know what it feels like, and within seconds I’m back in the air. Magic rolls around inside me and pours into the night sky as I rise higher above the water. My whole body relaxes as the magic leaves my system, as if with each passing moment I’m reclaiming another year of my life.
I’m not going to die in nine days.
Silent tears roll down my face, and the cool night breeze dries them on my skin. I stretch my arms out and revel in what it feels like to float. To live.
“Come back down, Mortana,” Wolfe says, his voice far away. I look down and see how high up I’ve drifted, but instead of feeling panic, I feel pride.
“What, can’t keep up?” I call down to him.
I hear him laugh. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” With a wave of his hand, the breeze stills, and my connection to it is lost. I scream as I plummet toward the water, such a long way to fall.
I brace for the harsh impact, but just before I hit the water, a current of air slips underneath me and gently cradles me above the surface, right where Wolfe is standing. He looks down at me, his expression unreadable. We watch each other for several breaths, then he gently slides his arms underneath me and places me back on my feet.
“That was good,” he says. “You’re catching on very quickly.” He says the words as if he’s puzzled by them, and for some reason it makes me nervous. I turn away from him and shake my head, try to erase the feeling of being up in the air, because if I don’t, I’m terrified I might realize that this is the most fun I’ve ever had. That this is the most alive I’ve ever felt.
“No,” I say out loud. None of this is real. It’s just the exhilaration of doing something I know I shouldn’t be doing. It’s the relief of knowing I get to live. That’s all.
“What was that?” Wolfe asks.