Page 76 of The Starlight Savior
“I’ll think about that,’ Conor said, looking from Saige to Tobin. “How about we finish Saige’s training session first?”
Saige attempted to object, but Conor moved quickly. His scent enveloped her as he gripped her arm, lowering his mouth to her ear. She fought the urge to lean in. “At least give me the decency to confide in you when it is just us. I’d hate for Tobin to witness what it is like for me to bare my soul.” He took a step back, returning to the basin. “Your turn.”
Of course Saige wished to press more, but Conor’s hardened gaze steered her away. She eyed the basins before her, exhaling over the nausea settling in her gut. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Exactly what you do with Tobin, but instead of imagining your light, imagine your connection to each element.”
“What if I don’t have such a thing?” Saige muttered, the exposed thought slipping from her mind. Since being in Etrane, she hadn’t seen someone with magic like hers. Everyone was poised and controlled, whether they were conjuring storm, healing wounds, or summoning fire.
All she knew was wreckage and light.
Conor shook his head. “Don’t think like that. You need to approach this with confidence.”
With a shaky breath, Saige stepped forward, taking Conor’s place. Her power flowed from her heart, down her arms, and into her hands. She moved her hands above the basin of dirt.
“Set your intention,” Tobin said from behind her, voice urgent and quick. “Think about what you want the element to do. It’s alive. How should it obey you?”
Closing her eyes, she thought of one single word.
Grow.
She wanted to see the plants in the basin mature before her, to rise like Judith’s flowers or her mother’s herbs. Her mother used to kneel in the garden outside their home, tending to the plants used for medicinal teas and abundant seasonings. Her beef stew had been Saige’s favorite, the scent of rosemary and thyme almost filling her nose.
Conor inhaled sharply beside her.
Her eyes flew open.
“What?” she said quickly before noticing that the plants had not only doubled in size, but in quantity. Rosemary leaves were nestled between the bursting purple flowers. “Oh,” she breathed out, palms glimmering.
“I will say, witchling”—Conor crossed his arms—“it is quite impressive to see you do magic so seamlessly after the last few weeks.”
“That sounds like a compliment.” Saige beamed.
“Almost. Keep going. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
The visualization went quicker in her head as she approached the water. She imagined it forming into a sphere, traveling up into the air, just as the water-wielders had done. Opening her eyes, she saw just that. A small sphere of liquid floated before her. In her peripheral vision, a smirk spread across Conor’s face.
Move, she thought, hoping the sphere would travel through the air and towards Conor. Before it could even get halfway there, her magic sputtered, stomach clenching, and the sphere plopped to the ground.
“Nice try.” Conor kicked at the puddle of water with a mud-coated boot.
The following basins were similar. She’d hover her hand over the fire, letting it rise and fall, but she couldn’t quite make it obey.
When she moved to storm, she thought of the way Conor let it explode and spill over the basin. But all she could manage was a spark of lightning in her palm that sent her hair standing all over.
Approaching spirit, she hesitated. Whose bones were they? She almost wanted to ask, but when she turned to Tobin, his chin nudged forward, his gaze expectant as Saige crossed to the final test.
What would she feel when her hands hovered over the remains?
Gods, this was supposed to reveal answers for her. To set her on the right path. None of them had stood out yet. None of them felt right.
A hand lingered on her shoulder. “Last one for today,” Conor murmured.
Saige nodded weakly, dispelling her fears with a shaky breath. Her hand hovered as she summoned her magic. There was no specific command visualized, but Conor raising the remains in the air stuck in her mind.
Instead she thought of a question.
Who am I?
