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Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1) 18. Silty Dust 33%
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18. Silty Dust

Chapter 18

Silty Dust

W e debated it back and forth for a long while, finally deciding that I would conjure the wind in the same manner as before, but with safeguards this time.

“May we please go through it again?” I asked, steeling my nerves. I needed to hear the logic of our plan one more time before I could give in and trust the process.

“Yes,” the king said patiently.

They’d devoted the past month to scavenging every scrap of knowledge they could find in hopes of leveraging it to avoid what had happened to me last time. But it was all conjecture at this point and could end up amounting to nothing.

I cast aside that thought and listened intently as the king reexplained. “There are five viable safeguards that should protect you. First, we’ve demonstrated that we can absorb your excess energy. We’ll position ourselves around you, and if things get out of control, we can dissipate some of the residual power by placing a hand on you.” This precaution unsettled me the most, as it posed an inherent risk to them. Something we’d discussed at great length. However, they were resolute that all of us should share the burden, and I had to respect that it was their decision to make.

“Second, according to our research, the crystal can absorb a nearly unlimited cache of power and should act as a countervail to your magic if needed. Third, you have the diamond, and each of us has a similar siphon.” I clutched the pink stone dangling from the bottom of the chain. “Above all else, you must remain vigilant about the amount of energy you tap into and heed my instructions. The others are contingencies should these two fail, understood?” His look was stern, if not worried.

“Yes. Only draw on what I need and follow your directives,” I said.

“Exactly.” He looked to his second and third, then rested his gaze on me. “Are you sure, Nyleeria?” the king asked.

My hands quivered, and I forced in a deep, steadying breath to summon my courage. Reminding myself why I was doing this, I sent a silent prayer to the Mother, the stars, the gods of old, and even the ancients for good measure—this was their fault, after all. It was a sobering thought to know that if this didn’t work, I most likely wouldn’t be alive to try it again.

Clenching my fists, I offered a swift nod, not trusting myself to speak.

The king continued holding my gaze while Tarrin flanked my right and Nevander mirrored his stance on the opposite side. Once they were in position, the king offered me an encouraging smile.

Biting back the primal urge to flee, I forced my eyes closed and brought myself back to the woods, my meadow.

The bordering leaves flickered like emerald flames in the light, burnishing the surrounding landscape in myriad shades of green. A soft breeze swirled through the land like an invisible maestro guiding the aerial dance of the cottonwood fluff that tenderly caressed my skin, as if whispering the sorrow of my absence—a sentiment I would have gladly returned, if I were able.

This meadow was a soothing balm that seeped into my marrow, exiling fear and shrouding me in her familiar tranquility. Any existence outside this peace was dissolved, like sugar in water, and the king’s voice, once prominent, was swallowed by the meadow’s symphony until it was no more than a distant echo.

Being that content made connecting to the spark effortless. She was both a part of me and wholly separate in a way that I couldn’t begin to describe. But she thrummed, and I thrummed with her. I luxuriated in the feeling, how she lulled me in the way soft, rippling water soothed me when floating in the lake.

Reveling in the spark’s embrace, I’d momentarily forgotten my purpose for being there. Wind—I needed to summon the wind. I wasn’t really here in the meadow; I was in the training room—but, oh, how I yearned to stay. Regaining my focus, I gently willed a soft breath of air to flow through the valley. The leaves chattered in its presence, and my hair was swept across my face as we met.

In an instant, I was ripped from the valley and catapulted back into my body.

The power within me surged, threatening to shatter like a dam groaning under too much strain. All I’d summoned was a mere wisp of air, yet my skirts whipped about wildly in the howling wind that now dominated the room. The king’s shouted words were devoured by the tempest before they could reach me. They each laid their hands upon me as I grappled with the roiling power that begged for liberation.

Our eyes locked, the king’s filled with a terror I was certain mirrored my own.

I could no longer contain it. In an act of desperation, I pushed past the king and placed my hands on the crystal.

Power erupted from my depths in a raw, uncontainable surge.

A pitchy ringing reverberated in my ears. Disoriented, I tried to blink away the haze, grasping for a familiar landmark. I felt my back against the hard tiled ground before I sorted out that the crisscrossed patterns I was staring at belonged to the ceiling. As I made to get up, something substantial pinned me down. Struggling against the oppressive mass, I realized it was the unconscious weight of the king pressing down on me. My gaze swept to either side, revealing Tarrin and Nevander, who appeared equally incapacitated. It seemed we’d been collectively flung a good ten paces.

A pained groan escaped the king as he shifted his weight and unceremoniously rolled off me with a soft thud as he hit the ground. Our heavy breathing filled the empty room. Blindly, the king reached out a hand, searching. I slid mine into his and gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze.

The other two stirred, but it took us several painstaking minutes to gather ourselves and sit upright. All of us were visibly shaken as we took in our surroundings in stunned silence.

Like a spectral mist, fine white dust flitted about from the fresh air now filtering in through the vacant window frames, their shattered glass scattered in every direction.

A soft, silky silt rubbed against my palms. Dusting them off proved to be a futile exercise, as everything, including us, was coated in it. The middle of the room was now marked by a diminutive heap of ghostly powder where the formidable crystal had stood just moments before.

My hand flew up, checking for the diamond, and a lurching relief filled me as I found it nestled safely against my chest. How had it survived? I looked up from the pendant, finding all eyes on me.

“Are you guys okay?” I rasped.

They nodded.

As we stood, I took them in. No spidery veins marred their bodies, and although their siphons were now dust, other than the aches from being thrown halfway across a room, they were relatively unscathed.

I brushed a hand across my face, and it came away bloody. Before I could assess if my nose was still bleeding, the king bridged the gap between us, retrieving a square cloth from his pocket, and tenderly cleaned my blood-streaked face.

Once done, the king stepped back. The three of them still hadn’t said a word and continued to stand in silence as they took me in. I couldn’t tell if they were still stunned or if they were assessing me; either way, I couldn’t handle it.

“That went well,” I ventured.

They remained stock-still. I was on the brink of snapping my fingers to check for a response when Tarrin launched into a fit of laughter. It boarded on hysteria and pulled the king in next, then eventually cracked Nevander’s resolve. The three of them stood before me, laughing unabashedly.

I could see it then—the three boys who’d grown up together—and I wondered how long it had been since they had laughed without restraint.

Their fits had no mercy, and they dragged me into their never-ending laughter until, finally, we were wiping away tears and clenching our guts. The uneven breathing of respite rasped through all of us as we caught our breath.

Tarrin looked at me. “We really need to work on your definition of well .”

Another bout of laughter consumed us.

Hysterics gone, we sat on the veranda. We’d had to clear the chairs of glass remnants, and shards still lay at our feet, but it was good to be outside.

I observed them as we sat in silence. I realized my gratitude and affection for the king had expanded to include Tarrin and Nevander—and I no longer felt alone.

Seeing them at ease with one another made me smile, and I knew I’d remember this moment for as long as I drew breath.

“Thank you,” I said.

Tarrin was closest to me, and I leaned over and gripped his hand in mine, squeezing tightly. I looked them each in the eyes. “I am truly grateful. Thank you.”

Tarrin placed his other hand over mine and offered me a knowing smile.

Releasing my grip, I relaxed into the chair and let his comfort and safety wash over me. We looked disheveled, and our hair was white with dust, but we were okay—safe—together.

“I think I know how to do it,” I said.

“Do what?” the king asked.

“Spells, magic, conjuring, whatever it is we want to call what I can do.”

Nevander lifted a brow, but the other two surveyed me, waiting for me to explain.

Going to the source—conjuring from its depths was too powerful when only a fraction of that power was needed. The first time, I’d been afraid it wouldn’t work, and I didn’t know any better the second time, so I’d been blunt, forceful, greedy. But I could dance with only the wisps of the power I feel thrumming around me. There was no need to go to the pits of its source, the one that gladly humored my every whim. With this knowledge, it might even be possible to wield spells, but that was for another day.

If I were the middle of the coin, then I should be able to oscillate between the two sides at will, avoiding the center, lest it destroy me. And maybe if I’d been born in a different form, a less fragile one, I would be able to wield the wildness of the middle. But as it stood, I couldn’t, and perhaps that would always be true.

Fresh out of words, I focused on a tiny purple flower that lay solo on edge of the veranda. As I sent an intention its way, its petals fluttered before it gave way and flitted toward the king. Dancing before him, he reached out and plucked it from the phantom wind.

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