I want to protest, to insist that I'm fine, but the truth is, I'm grateful for the suggestion. My legs feel like jelly, and the idea of sitting down is appealing.
Very appealing.
I want to sit down.
Right now.
Magister Orion agrees, leading us to the familiar sitting area nearby. As I sink into a plush armchair, relief washes over . I hadn't realized just how much effort it was taking to remain upright.
"Now," Magister Orion says, settling into his own chair, "let's discuss what happened during your practice session. I'd like to hear about your experience accessing your magic for the first ti."
My thoughts are jumbled now that the mont's arrived. How do I even describe the rush of power, the vivid mories, the feeling of connection to sothing greater than myself?
"It was intense," I begin, searching for the right words. "Like I was drowning in dreams, or maybe mories. They were awful ones, where I died in a fire. It was horrible and painful. I felt a surge of energy and then, before I knew it, the rune paper was on fire."
Magister Orion leans forward, his eyes sparkling with interest. "For the wizards of the past, past life mories were not uncommon when first accessing one's magical core. It's as if the magic itself carries the echoes of its previous incarnations. While it isn't normal, it isn't unheard of. Usually, it cos with a great level of power."
Relieved that he doesn't think I'm crazy, I admit, "It felt so real. Like I was there, experiencing it all over again."
"That's because, in a sense, you were," he explains. "Magic is tiless, Ava. It exists beyond our mortal understanding of past, present, and future. On a different plane, as it were. When we tap into it, we sotis glimpse the vast tapestry of existence."
His words are both aweso and terrifying.
Rubbing goosebumps from my arms, I ask, "So, what does this an? Is it going to happen all the ti? Am I going to rember my past life now?"
"No, no." He shakes a hand between us with a laugh. "Nothing like that. It's a glimpse, a window, but nothing more than that. It's similar to clairvoyants, who can see or predict future events. Cloudy and uncertain, and sotis things change before things co to pass. Or, you see an alternate history that was never written in your story books."
"Clairvoyants," I murmur, thinking back. "Like Sister Miriam?"
"Ah, Sister Miriam."
Magister Orion leans back, his thick fingers steepling as he considers his words. "Sister Miriam is unique among vampires."
My ears perk up, and I can even feel Selene focusing more on what she can hear through my head.
"Vampires have their own brand of magic, you see," he continues, his voice taking on the cadence of a lecturer. "It's tied to their very nature—blood magic, so call it, but it isn't necessarily accurate. Even so, Sister Miriam is different."
I lean forward, hanging on every word. The fatigue in my muscles seems to fade as curiosity takes over.
"We believe she's of partial Fae descent," Magister Orion says, his eyes distant as if recalling so ancient lore. "Though the truth of her parentage remains a mystery to most. There isn't much known about the dhampir and what powers they inherit from their non-vampire parent, but Sister Miriam's clairvoyant abilities must co from a Fae bloodline.
There has never been a human wizard with the ability of prophecy."
"Does everything co true, if she sees it?"
This is sothing that's been bothering for a long ti. The prophecy she gave, the one my mother heard.
"No. It doesn't work that way. What a clairvoyant can see is rely a possibility in your life. Sotis, it works out exactly as they've foreseen. Sotis, you make choices that change such a future. And other tis, knowing pushes you to make choices to avoid that future—yet brings it to fruition instead, in a prophetic paradox.
Many consider it a useless ability, but so beco addicted to the visions, unable to make decisions without them."
"So even if she said sothing…"
"Ava Grey," he interrupts, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "whatever you've learned, or whatever you've been told, don't fear the future. The knowledge any prophecy gives you is fleeting and uncertain. Far more important is to live a life that makes you happy and proud, not to lead one based off your fears."
Hearing it from soone like Magister Orion, deeply integrated with the world of magic, finally lifts the worry from my shoulders, and I sigh in relief.
He smiles. "Worry not, my pupil. What will co to pass is always in a state of flux. Even ti can be unreliable."
"How can ti be unreliable?" Vanessa asks, the curiosity in her voice unmistakable.
She's been drawn into all this insanity with , and all this knowledge only deepens her hunger for more. Unlike , who stresses over my power and how to control it, she just wants to learn about this world. About magic. About the possibilities that it brings.
"Once upon a ti, there were Archmages in this world. These people were special enough to reach the level of the gods and change ti at their will." Magister Orion sighs. "Alas, nothing good cos from such a level of power."
"What happened to them?" This ti it's Marcus, even his stoic bearing broken by his intrigue.
"None of the stories agree." He spreads his hands in regret. "I have been looking for these answers all my life, but I've yet to find any account that stands out as the absolute truth. What I do know is that it changed the world as we know it, tearing apart everything. The gods disappeared. The Archmages died. And the Lycans—your forebears—were erased from both worlds."
Confused, I blurt out, "Both worlds? What's the second world?"
"This one, of course, child. The realm of Fae."
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