1
Janus
The world split in half the day the Innocent died. It began in flame.
Fire was a happy memory. Crackling hearths, flickering torches in the night, warmth on a cold day. Janus closed her eyes, remembering every fire she’d seen, remembering their heat.
The door slammed, snapping her from her reverie. Her little brother trudged into the room, twisting out of his cloak. Eros’ mop of brown curls hung over his brilliant pink eyes, shadowing the freckles covering his cheeks. He grinned, noticing her hands cupped on her lap.
“Are you practicing?” He ran over, giddily.
“I told you I’d show you my spell, didn’t I?” Janus grinned, shifting to sit cross-legged on her bed.
Pushing aside a pile of messy books, Eros sat on his bed and watched her expectantly. A gentle breeze blew through the crack in the window, fluttering the curtains.
Eros had his own room, but he never used it. Janus wanted to kick him out, regain her privacy. She was twelve now; she deserved it. But sleeping alone frightened Eros. And what was her purpose as his older sister if not to protect him?
Those soft eyes of his could melt any heart, and Janus had yet to build up a resistance. He’d stay with her a little longer.
“Do you think I’m an evoker, too?” Eros questioned.
Janus rubbed her hands together, recalling her lessons. “Maybe. You’ll have cefran magic, won’t you? Do you need evoking, too?”
“Why not have both?” Eros placed a thoughtful hand on his chin. “Supposedly, some half-bloods can wield both magics.” He snickered. “A cefra can’t create dates to hide in your pockets.”
Janus shuddered. She hated dates. “Conjuring food is tough. Or so Gemellus says.”
“Gemellus says everything is hard.”
“Because it is,” Janus articulated.
“Hmph.” Eros wrinkled his brow. “Gemellus said you were his best student.”
“He did?” Janus’s head whipped up, and she lost concentration.
Eros giggled. “He said not to tell you, but I thought it would make you happy.”
The kid’s smile was infectious. Every time Janus mustered the courage to see him as an annoying little sibling, he said something sweet like that. Grinning, she returned to her efforts.
“So. . .” Eros tilted his head. “Are you going to cast the spell or not?”
“Give me a moment. This takes effort.”
Receding into her mind, Janus recalled Gemellus’s lesson: focus on your memories, on the element you want. Extract the fire crackling in the hearth and bring it into the living world.
Eros grew bored quickly. “I saw a Dragosi stepper today.”
“Did you?” Janus mumbled, trying to isolate the memory of fire.
“It was huge. Probably could’ve crushed you with one hoof.” Eros flopped back onto the bed. “Think we could convince Evander to let us ride one?”
“Absolutely not.” Janus’ eyes flew open, and flame whooshed to life in her palm.
Eros bolted upright, staring at the crackling fire. Leaping to his feet, he ran to her side, eager to get a better look.
Pain burned through Janus’s palm as the flames licked at her skin. Panicking, she shook her hand as she would after touching a hot stove, hoping to throw the fire away.
The pain in her hand ceased and instead erupted at her feet. Gasping, she fled backward, tripping on her bedpost and landing on the floor.
