Page 117 of The Starlight Savior

Moons ago, she dreaded this feeling. Now the burning pain didn’t exist anymore. Only warmth, light, and an endless amount of power.

Murmuring echoed around her, but Saige paid no attention to that. Her eyes remained on King Vospella who showed no sign of surprise or satisfaction. A woman at the right of the table raised her palm. “My lord, what is the significance of that plant?”

“Our tests revealed that those plants were the most decimated by the mist. Minimal signs of being capable of revival.”

“And yet she accomplished it?” The woman gasped. “How can that be if not even the strongest earth-wielders were able to?”

Tobin looked up beside the king. “Saige Nerestel has proven to have an unexplainable magic connected to some of the most complex wielders. Drawing from the water source that flows through Opela, it is clear she was able to use her magic to bring its lifeforce back.”

“Can she expand such magic across Opela? Or will we need to find more people with such capabilities?”

Saige ignored the prickling feeling at her back. They spoke of her as if she wasn’t even in the room. She allowed her eyes to meet Conor’s. The tension in his neck was still there, but a knowing smirk spread across his face. His lips parted into a silent shush, as if sensing her urge to speak up.

“You know the story of how we found her?” Tobin asked.

The court nodded collectively. Eva’s eyes were wide and expectant on Saige as she leaned forward in her seat.

“There is no one else like her. If her magic responds to the mist, then she is our greatest chance.”

No pressure. Saige rolled her neck.

The king turned back to Saige. “Continue. You’ve used two of the basins, proving yourself adequate enough to manage the decayed earth and the river’s water. But are you powerful enough to wield the other three?”

“Yes,” Saige said without hesitation, a mask of confidence slipping right over, her stomach fluttering.

No, she wasn’t sure if she was powerful enough to do such a thing. But she’d been practicing for days. The moon was full and glowing, the starlight drifting from the sky and into her veins without much effort.

This was the most control she’d had since her magic emerged years ago.

Saige approached the third basin, the white flames licking up, growing with Saige’s presence. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with them though. Despite being an ice-wielder, Niana had always expressed a keen interest in the fire lands. She was fascinated with the way fire. How something viewed as destructive could be seen as rebirth. Healing. New beginnings. It was the opposite of the magic in Niana’s core. But with the mist and Sybil’s head awaiting her, what could she do with such a thing?

The mist pulsed under the basin’s dome. Saige stepped forward. The gray swirls danced against the glass. Every person beside the king and Conor looked repulsed by the mist being in such close proximity. Even Tobin, who had been studying it since it began to travel from Tiranos, squirmed in his seat. It was dangerous to have such a thing in here. To place the expectation of confining it on her. But the king wouldn’t do that unless he believed she was capable, right? If she wasn’t, then anything that touched the mist would be damned.

Drive the mist away.

But how? Balls of light glowed in her palm, illuminating off the glass. In Conor’s hometown, she had thrown starlight across their path, illuminating it. But she couldn’t recall if it had driven the mist away or if it just lit the world up.

Fire or spirit. Sybil’s soul couldn’t drive the mist away. So it left fire.

It was a gamble to hope Ignesa’s fire would work, but the king’s expectation wasn’t for Saige to be the cleverest in the room. She just needed to exhibit power. To show that she could wield such abnormal mutations of the elements. But fire had always been a struggle for Saige to grasp.

One hand over the flames, she urged her starlight to interlace. She imagined both magics interweaving, like her neighbor’s looms. White, golden light of the ancients. At first, the flames lit up, licking at her hands. But the fire tugged back. The more she tried to harness it, the less it obeyed. It held onto the silver basin, straying away from Saige’s hand. With a quick exhale, Saige closed her eyes tightly. Sweat pooled on her lip. A few of the wielders chuckled, as if finding her failure amusing.

“Maybe she’s a one trick pony,” whispered a warlock.

Saige bit down on her cheek until she felt the salty taste of blood, ignoring the growing whispers. Didn’t they want her to be successful? Or did they fear the power she could possess? The fire would obey her and drive the mist away. She just needed to get a grip.

Conor had explained that magic was drawn to memories. Feelings. Saige’s anger and disgust towards herself had manifested into the hot, painful experience of releasing bursts. But now that her fury had begun to slowly subside, that was not how her magic took shape.

Maybe she didn’t need to control the flames. Make them obey her. Maybe they needed to be a part of her.

Saige flexed her hand. Her veins shimmered as she opened her palm once again and let the memories flow.

The hearthfire, her mother’s stew boiling hot. The smoke in the forgery. Her father’s swords being licked by the flames of his passion. The bonfires beside the creek in Denholm. Hadeon’s lips pressed against her cheek. The colorful flames of magic pulling lanterns into the sky.

She imagined it all, plucking each memory from her mind and feeding it to the white flames.

See, she tried to say, you are a part of me. She hoped the flames felt it too.