Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

13. Etymology of Silence

Chapter 13

Etymology of Silence

“ T hat was kind of you,” the king said as we entered the solitude of the training room.

“What was?” I asked, shifting my focus to him.

“Connecting with Tarrin and Nevander the way you did. And how you accepted my past without reservation, or judgment.”

“Do my parents’ deaths make me a monster?”

His brows furrowed. “Of course not.”

“Do you think that lessens my guilt?”

“No,” he said, the word barely audible.

Holding my gaze, he bridged the distance between us with a measured stride, close enough that his scent—sweet, like the forest after rain—enveloped me. He raised his hand to my face, then paused as if unsure or waiting for me to object. A heartbeat later, his fingertips traced the contours of my cheek with a feather-light touch before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I stilled, heart racing, as his gaze bore into me with an intensity I wasn’t sure I could weather. Cracking under the weight, I took a small, distancing step out of his touch before turning away and making for the windows on the far side of the room .

Feeling his phantom caress my skin, I forced in a deep breath and focused on the gardens beyond the windows.

Still facing outward, I said, “Why are we in the training room?”

The king came up to my side and waited for me to face him before he conjured a tome from thin air. “Because, you’re going to try your hand at magic today.”

“Really?” I blurted out, completely ignoring what had just happened.

An amused laugh escaped him. “Really. But before we begin, I need to manage your expectations, Nyleeria. The art of spellcraft is a discipline that requires patience above all else. Usually, spell wielders are tutored from early childhood, the ability woven into our lineage. Our power is as much a part of us as our blood. I’m not sure how the spells will react to you, or you to them.” His tone moved away from the familiarity we’d fostered and into a new dynamic—master and student.

“When you say how the spells will react to me , you make it sound as if they’re alive.”

“What is life but animated energy?” he asked.

I paused, considering. I supposed he was right.

“Magic is not alive like you and I,” he said. “We’re animated differently, but it has rules, boundaries, and most importantly, choice. Magic can exact a steeper toll at will—such as when I invoked the immortality spell—or disavow you entirely. If you’re fortunate, it will partner with you. You see, magic, of any kind, is akin to a symbiotic relationship.”

“Like it needs us as much as we need it?”

“Exactly. Magic alone cannot take form without someone, or something, to wield it. We are the conduits that transform raw power into something wholly different. What form it takes depends on what type of conduit you are. The fae, for instance, can transmute power into an elemental embodiment: water, air, fire, and earth. As humans, we transform raw energy through commands—hence the need for spells. But with you, Nyleeria, we’re confronted with a phenomenon we’ve never encountered, from a human, fae, or magical perspective. You’re a new class of conduit, so to speak, and I have no way of knowing how you’ll react to each other. Truthfully, I never expected the map to lead me to a human. As it was ancient fae and their magic that created the spark, you can imagine my surprise when I found that the power had incarnated into you, a human. I still can’t quite comprehend how the fates decided such a thing, but I’m glad of it. All this to say, it’s complicated and we’re traversing uncharted territory.”

As I absorbed the flood of new information, my mind raced, trying to sift and sort through it all.

“That’s how you found a way to wield magic without verbalizing the spell,” I said. “You treat it like a living entity and tried a different language.” Everything clicked into place, and a part deep within me intrinsically understood this truth.

He smiled at me, pleased. “Clever. Yes, that’s exactly it. My family owned many ancient tomes on spellcraft—some in the old tongue and foreign dialects, while others were modernized. If all these languages could wield spells, then why not create a new language that doesn’t require the spoken word at all? If words are just intention verbalized, then could intention alone work? It took almost a century, but together, we created our own language.”

“We?”

“Magic and I.”

I smiled, feeling a comfort in the relationship he’d fostered with magic—it was such a strange and wondrous thing.

Craving more than ever to build a relationship with my own powers, I asked, “So, where do we begin?”

The king assessed me for a moment, then said, “When you were in the forest the other day, I found you with your feet and hands digging into the moss. Why were you doing that?”

“I can sense the Mother’s energy,” I said, taking myself back to that moment. “It flows beneath me, all around me. When I connect to her in that way…it’s as if she absorbs my pent-up emotions and in fuses me with renewed energy. Like a cleansing of sorts. New energy pours in through my right hand, while my burdens flow out through my left. The other day, when you found me, I’d connected to let her cycle my fear and panic.” Feeling self-conscious, I added, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but?—”

“Stop,” he said gently. “It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all. In fact, your ability to feel those things—to commune as you put it—is exactly how I tap into source power for spellcraft. It can take many years to learn what you understand innately, Nyleeria.”

In a world where harsh judgment had been passed upon me, his kindness offered me a respite I yearned for, and my emotions stirred as I held onto that feeling.

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes misting with tears.

He gave me a disarming smile and said, “Want to give it a try?”

“Like, right now?”

The king chuckled. “Unless you have another pressing engagement.”

I couldn’t help but smile, nodding in response as a swirl of excitement and apprehension filled my chest.

“Good. Let’s go to the middle of the room, and once you’re ready, I want you to close your eyes.”

I did as he asked.

“Now, center yourself like you did in the forest. Let me know when you feel that sense of calm.”

Readying myself, I took a deep breath and released it slowly. With my eyes closed, my mind wandered to the sounds beyond the windows, the soft footsteps of servants walking in the halls, the king’s soft breathing, my steady heartbeat. Then, after a time, I was fully in myself, breaths steady, thoughts at bay.

I gave him a nod.

“Feel around the room for an energy,” he said, his voice now filling the space, as if the walls themselves were speaking, and I could no longer tell where he was .

Shaking off the strangeness of his voice, I focused on the room, searching to see if I could feel anything.

“Let me know when you find it.”

There was nothing.

Staying centered, I trusted myself and settled in deeper. Then my fingers began to tingle. I raised my right hand, giving in to the compulsion, and reached toward where it was beaconed—like gravity himself tugged at me.

My palm splayed as if I were telling someone to stop, I homed in on its origin, moving my hand back and forth until I could sense it clearly.

“Here,” I finally said.

“Describe it to me,” the king coaxed.

“It’s strongest from here to here,” I said, moving my hand only a few inches back and forth. “I can feel it in my fingertips the most…like the tingling sensation of a limb that’s fallen asleep; only, it’s charged, pleasant, even.”

“Good. Now continue to scan the rest of the room.”

Eyes still closed, I slowly turned in a circle, stopping to concentrate on what felt like another pull.

“Here,” I said, hand up.

“Describe it to me.”

“It’s very similar, but the tingling is faster…more charged. And the pull is stronger, like it wants me to take a step forward.” I tilted my head in concentration as if there was another detail I’d missed. I felt it then. “There’s a faint pulse to it that wasn’t present the last time. And I can tell how far away it is…Maybe two paces.”

“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice still coming from everywhere.

I did as he asked, and with a start, I saw my hand was outstretched for him. I could feel him . I looked behind me, then back at him. He winked, then went serious again.

“Nyleeria, you correctly identified the only two conduits in this room aside from yourself—me and the tome.” He directed my gaze to where the ancient script was suspended in midair. “Not only that, but you could discern the difference between a living conduit and an inanimate one. The pulse you felt was my heartbeat.” Closing the distance, his gentle hand took mine and laid it over his heart, where the same pattern I’d felt moments before pulsed under my palm.

We lingered for a moment, entranced by each other’s gaze, as my cradled hand lay flat against his muscular chest. His heartbeat quickened. The king’s eyes were a captivating gray-blue blend of storm and steel, a fusion of tempestuous skies and hard-edged metal.

I cataloged the detail finally and broke away, coming back to myself.

“Do you want to try an actual spell?” he asked, his voice gruff.

I swallowed and nodded in response.

Clearing his throat, he said, “A levitation spell is typically the first one we learn.” A feather appeared in front of us and slowly fluttered to the tiled floor. “The goal is to lift it off the ground. It doesn’t matter how high, or how long—we’re just testing the ability to cast a spell successfully.”

Moments later, I knelt on the cold tile before the feather, reminding myself of his instructions.

Tap into my own source energy like I connect to the Mother. Once I can feel the same pulsing sensation I did when my fingers sought him out, say the spell and allow the energy to crystalize through, and around me. Most importantly, visualize the energy going under the feather and lifting it up.

I can do this . My heart pounded, and I had to wipe my balmy hands on my pants several times as I built up the nerve.

Okay. I can do this. Deep breaths. I can do this.

It took a few minutes to get out of my mind and into my body, and a couple more moments to tap into the energy, but I finally felt it coursing through and around me, as he’d described.

I recited the incantation. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I tried over and over again, to no avail.

The king stayed silent, not uttering a word or making a noise the entire time, until I huffed a sigh and slumped .

“You’re thinking about it too much,” he said. “Let’s try this. Close your eyes.” Feeling the fool, I gave him a withering look. “Indulge me in this one last try for today, Nyleeria. Please.” His soothing tone was patient and asked for me to trust him in this. I swallowed my protests, and my pride, and did as he instructed. “Pretend you’re in the forest, connected to the Mother, like you’ve done countless times before.” He paused, giving me space to do just that. My mind teleported me back to my forest, my meadow. “Now, pay attention to the slight breeze as it passes by.” The air danced across my skin as it swirled around me, rustling the leaves as the tips of the long grasses swayed in its presence. I let myself get lost in it, soaking in its beautiful familiarity.

“Open your eyes, Nyleeria,” he said in a faint whisper.

I did as he said and found the feather fluttering in the air like a leaf in the fall breeze. My heart pounded as wisps of my hair flitted about in its presence.

I jumped up. “I did it! I really did it!”

I turned to face him, wanting to share this victory with him. At the movement, the room spun, and my knees buckled before darkness fell.

Crippling pain threw me awake, the violence of it ripping an involuntary scream from me. My body convulsed from the icy chill that had seeped deep into my marrow. Just when I relaxed, my stomach clenched tight, trying to release what it didn’t have to give. The pain plunged me back into oblivion.

I would find consciousness only to writhe, wretch, and succumb once more.

In the moments when my body clung to consciousness, I rocked back and forth, praying for the pain to go away. I’d gladly accept Father Death’s invitation if it meant relief from this torment.

A flurry of people moved around me, their voices frantic.

A cool, soft cloth caressed my forehead. My leaden eyes flitted open just long enough to see the king’s forced smile. “It’s okay, Nyleeria, we’ve got you.”

Ice melted against my lips.

My eyes burned from the tears that could no longer form as my body protested the healer’s ministrations.

“I don’t care what you have to do, just make it stop,” the king ordered.

“Thaddeus, maybe it’s time we?—”

“Don’t you fucken dare, Tarrin.”

My eyes vehemently resisted the sunlight filtering into the room. They remained sealed while I gathered my bearings without their assistance.

Positioned on my side, every inch of my body throbbed with an aching pain that surpassed what I’d felt after the most rigorous day of training. I tried to move, and a whimper escaped me.

“Nyleeria?” The king’s voice was nervous, tentative, even. The seat made a noise as he shifted his weight, most likely coming closer to me.

Another whimper left me.

“Nyleeria? Can you hear me?” A sense of urgency entered his questioning words.

I tried to nod my head, open my eyes, move at all, but my body wouldn’t oblige. While my mind was engaged in the world again, my body was perfectly content in staying wherever it had drifted off to.

I tried to let him know I could hear him. “Ow,” I mustered, the croaked word barely audible. I winced from the extra pain that tiny movement had inflicted.

“Thank the gods,” he said under his breath. “Can you open your eyes?”

I tried again, but it was simply too bright. “No.”

“What did you say?”

I must have said it too quietly. I tried again. “Too bright.” I wasn’t much louder, but he must have heard as his footsteps walked away from me, and I could hear the curtains close.

I tried again, opening my eyes a slit. The room was dark, save for the light coming from the doorway. It took a few minutes, but I slowly blinked them open.

“There you are,” the king said as he stroked my hair. “There you are,” he said again with heartbreaking gentility. Deep worry and relief played in his eyes as he took me in.