Page 127 of The Starlight Savior

“Of course I do. It’s the only way I can survive.” Niana’s head cocked to the side. “Have there been moments where you’ve felt the most yourself?”

Yes. In Brevil. With her mother and father, there was never a moment where she didn’t feel comfortable. The small moments with Althea where her walls went down. Laughing with her in the tavern, playing card games in the village square.

“In Etrane,” Niana corrected, giving her a knowing look at the sudden nostalgia sweeping over.

Saige laughed. Half of her mind was always stuck in the past. “At the full moon festival,” Saige said with a fond smile. “With you. With Conor.”

“Ah, Conor.” Niana smiled. “I’m glad you can recognize that now.”

“What?”

“That you’re most yourself around him.” Niana had an earnest look in her eyes. “I believe he feels the same.”

The heat of his lips burned in her brain. For days and weeks, she longed for the single night they shared. The hugs, arm grasps, and thumbs stroking skin. But she didn’t quite know where they stood. There had been moments where she wasn’t the kindest, fueled by all the hurt built up inside her.

“So what of my magic?” Saige asked. It felt nice to talk about such things with someone, but her focus was not on a budding romance she wasn’t even sure existed. The mist was her main priority.

“You say it shows up as light?”

Saige nodded. Holding up her palms, the light filled her veins and flowed into her hands. The heat of her magic warmed her face instantly, expelling any chill. “But doesn’t all magic show up as light?”

“Technically, yes. But not like that.” Niana tugged off her gloves, pulling the sleeves of her tunic back. Icy blue filled her veins, but instead of balls of light resting in her palms, water hovered above. With a close of her fist, it froze, shattered, and drifted down as snow on the ground. “I don’t have light in my palms. Only water and ice. What you have though…that seems like pure light. Maybe that’s how it shows up.”

“So then what? I just push it through the river?”

Niana shrugged, shifting on the log. “I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to think this task is bigger than I can manage.”

Niana’s hand grasped Saige’s, squeezing tightly. “You aren’t alone in this. You keep allowing yourself to exist on some island where no one can bear the weight with you. We are all holding the pressure. You’ll have time to see if your light can fuse with the water of the river. I imagine it can be done with practice.” Niana nodded towards an unexplored direction. “There is a small creek near one of the mountain peaks over there. Let’s go see.”

They rose in unison, Saige’s throat tight with emotion. The same protective walls from Brevil held her and the pressure steady. But it also kept people at arm’s length. How many days or evenings had she spent with her aunt? Very minimal, grief holding them back. Any time she spent time with Niana, it was to celebrate or learn. Even with Conor, their time together had a motive. When had they spent time just to enjoy each other’s presence?

“I’m sorry.”

Niana looked up. “For what?”

“I don’t believe I’ve been a very good companion to you. Or Conor. I’ve had my head stuck up my arse in all this magic nonsense.”

Niana waved her off, but her smile was earnest. “I appreciate the thought, but we all understand how difficult it is.”

“I didn’t make many connections in Brevil. Only a few, and even those were surface level at best. A-at least on my end. I don’t know how to…”

“Trust others?”

Saige’s head dipped, her hood tugging over her head. Her eyes burned with tears as the thoughts drifted through her head. It was never quite a distrust in others, but herself. “Maybe to protect,” she choked out, “from the pain I cause.”

Niana stopped in the middle of the forest. “You were just a child.”

Saige halted, looking back. Her vision blurred as the wind whipped against Niana’s hair and face, revealing a sad frown.

“I was ten.” Her voice was shaky, arms burning with the heat of emotion.

“Your father never trained you to control your magic. He had known and didn’t train you. The pain…the deaths…you didn’t cause them. It was a consequence of miscare.”

Niana’s eyes trailed forward. “Something most modern children have in common is we are bred and born to be weapons. When Opela was protected, the concept of war was minimal. No fights over land or assets. But when Tiranos shed the wards, the focus shifted from living in harmony to creating an army. When you are built to believe you are only worth your magic reservoir, it’s difficult to trust one another as beings rather than wielders.”

“I-I didn’t know that.” It was common sense, now that she thought about it. Sydera’s goal was to create a world where they could live in peace, leaning on one another when necessary without any fear. That had been disrupted in a single night of bloodshed.