“Be still, child,” the voice that interrupted was calm and deep as the ocean.
Master Tymon walked into the rotunda from behind his fellow masters. He placed an arm on Mistress Lunella and guided her to the side, allowing him access to glide in front of their group. He beckoned me with one finger. “Come forward, young one. You say the mountain spoke to you?”
“Called me, master,” I corrected him even as I obeyed him, stepping forward until I was at arm’s length.
“And what did you see in the cave?”
“Crystals, sir. Colors and light dancing in the rocks. My companion said he could see the magic respond to my laugh through the crystals.”
“And now? What do you see?” His hand swept the vast space of the hall.
“Threads of magic, sir. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands, some falling from the walkway above, some seemingly alive on the floors and walls around us.”
“Can you show us?”
I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t think of a way to show them the magic I could now see.
A moment later, the magic told me how.
A sweet whisper in my ear.
Extending my palm up, a thread dropped to my touch and spun like a dust devil, swirling and twirling, and gathering more thread to itself. With my other finger, I touched the whirling dervish in my hand. It was soft and gentle, nothing at all like what a tornado should feel like. Bringing my lips closer to the tiny maelstrom, I dusted a breath across it, and whispered, “Glow.”
A cascade of chimes surrounded my body as the magic flowed. Down from the whirlwind, out into the air, and creating its own waterfall. Cascading down to the floor, the threads lit each one they touched and a new chime added to the beautiful cacophony.
I watched as the colors and lights of the magic glowed more brilliantly than the moment before. Traveling across the floor, the threads seemed to catch fire when they reached the waterfalls that surround the rotunda. A burst of light flew up the threads, and soon, the whole room was aglow, and the chimes were melodic, sweet, and calming.
I tipped my head back to stare up.
Master Dorian was suddenly beside me.
Confusion and anger danced in his eyes.
He demanded, “How are you doing this, acolyte?”
“I listened to what the magic told me to do.”
“So you lied or you are too stupid to understand a simple question. It is speaking to you.” His piercing blue eyes narrowed, and he brushed aside his white-blond hair from his forehead. “You are nothing but a middling—”
“Dorian.” Mistress Lunella raised a hand. “With all respect to your station as the oldest of us, hush.”
Master Tymon nodded at Mistress Lunella.
They studied my person from head to toe.
Eventually, the master conceded, “You are well known to us, my dear. A bright, brilliant, but not naturally gifted druid. And now you can do this?”
“Sir, I’m just as overwhelmed as anyone else. The mountain called, and I answered. The magic has become stronger even from the time I left the cave until my arrival here.”
Master Dorian snorted with an arrogant wave at my head—almost whacking me with his palm. “You cannot believe this child, Tymon. It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not, Dorian,” Master Tymon said, smiling. He turned his regard in my direction once more. “You see, the friend she spoke of—who is Elex Everettson—contacted the Geology Guild, who, in turn, contacted me to let me know there was a cave that needed exploring. I instructed them to send several geologists and two of our master magic wielders to check this cave and our acolyte’s claim.”
Master Tymon whirled around to Dorian. The masters stared at one another quietly, both silently considering the other. Master Tymon finally stated, “I’m not afraid of the Breaking Time. I would welcome it. It’s been too long since we saw our vampire brothers and sisters. It’s time.”
Master Dorian’s ice-cold eyes found mine. “Her. Of all people in S’Kir? Her.”
I lifted one brow, chiding, “Who are you asking that question of, Master Dorian? Me or the magic?”
He didn’t bother to respond.
Releasing my gaze, he fixed his sights on Master Tymon. “You’ve sent someone out to survey this place she claims called her?”
“Yes, I have. Although, Mr. Everettson is one of our finest trained geologists, and his gift with magic is strong. I trust his word, and he is in my purview. Why do you not trust one of your own?” Master Tymon cocked his head.
Master Dorian rubbed at his chin in thought.
I held my breath, the air burning in my lungs. I wasn’t scared of Master Dorian. While he was my teacher and the master of the school, he was just generally…an ass.
Master Hedregon continued his hushed stance.
“I trust her,” he finally said. “If your study team has seen the cave she claims is breaking.”
“They will be reporting back in just a few minutes.”
I cast a glance to the powerful, stubborn man next to me. I hedged, “I still don’t understand why you won’t take me at my word, Master Dorian.”
“We’ve had hysterical claims before. Just like yours. I won’t take steps based on the claim of just one acolyte teacher who was, until mere moments ago, barely adept at using magic.”
Mistress Lunella crossed her arms over her chest. “Dorian, you are being quite the asshole to this young woman.”
“We have had false alarms.”
“Not with her.” Her forehead crinkled in disappointment. “You don’t have to make her feel like this is not important! All our acolytes—imbued with magic or not—are critical to the survival of this temple and this school. So, Master Dorian, shove it.”
I liked Mistress Lunella.
A heartbeat passed, and Master Dorian pivoted on his heel and marched out of the rotunda, displeasure in the tightness of his broad shoulders.
Master Tymon and Mistress Lunella shook their heads and dismissed him. Turning back to me, they smiled—and I could see they were genuinely pleased I had come to them with the news.
“Have you eaten tonight, Miss Raven?” Mistress Lunella questioned.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Then allow me to offer you a drink.” A graceful hand motioned me to the inner sanctum of the Masters’ Hall, and there was no way to refuse. “Let’s at least wait for Mister Everettson in comfort. There are things to discuss yet.”
The sitting room, done in shades of ivory and red, and peppered with all kinds of chairs, chaises, and sofas, was a welcoming, lush retreat from the massive, echoing chamber of the entrance hall.
I was in a sacred space now. This was something I hadn’t anticipated or expected. I thought perhaps that I might wait in the rotunda or an antechamber. Not the sitting room of the masters.
“Mistress Lunella.” I dared to lay a hand on her arm and keep her from walking away from me. “Please. If this is the Breaking Time, is it not an appropriate time to begin the celebrations? Don’t the people of S’Kir—”