INTO THE DEPTHS
We seemed to have passed into a space where it was safe to talk, as we were beyond the midpoint of the Cistern, and Ciaran began to speak.
“A thousand years ago the Church of Scion made magic illegal and hunted down those who practised it,” he began, his voice solemn in that deep musical accent. “They were trying to wipe out the entire population of people with magic. If they could wield magic, the Church called them heretics—demonic and evil. The dehumanization of magic wielders was swift and effective. The Church launchedinquisitorsto find them, and find them they did. Pyres burned constantly across this continent, fuelled by the bodies of artists, musicians, performers, scholars, sweet sensitive souls, anyone who dared to think or love differently. They were people with no magic whatsoever, as often as they were magic wielders. Anyone with any sense quickly stifled their gifts, went into hiding and became as invisible as possible.”
The part about the inquisitors was familiar; it was well-documented history. “I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” I cut him off before he could continue the history lesson.
“Because so many people with magic went on to hide their gifts. As the years went by, and the magic wielders stayed hidden, they passed on their tremendous gifts to the next generation, and the next, and the next, many of them unaware that the gift of magic simmered in their blood. The Church continued to gather strength across the continent, and magic was seemingly eradicated.”
“Okay, I still don’t see”—
“But it was never true. Magic was never eradicated. It had just moved underground. Sometimes literally.” Ciaran gestured to the cavern around us. “Sometimes the gifts were whispered in secret, passed down from mother to daughter, to son, to granddaughter. In some places, where the Church hadn’t exerted its power completely, magic still thrived. There were small rural towns where trust prevailed, and no one would dare betray their friends and neighbours. Over time the Church moved in on those rural towns, sending Scion missionaries to convert the local people. Even those havens became unsafe for us.
“Our generation—especially here in Lutesse—is particularly threatening to the Church.” He gestured to us. I supposed he was probably a similar age to me. Perhaps a few years older, based on the way he carried himself with a confident masculinity only age could provide. “Before the war, we were not ascribing to their traditional values. They are still struggling to maintain that kind of control over the youth of Lutesse. You and your friends are a prime example of that.” Ciaran paused. I wondered how much he knew about my friends. I guess hehadbeen watching that night at Montmartre. “Young people were more likely to support the resistance. We are also more likely to recognize and embrace our magical abilities; abilities that may have remained dormant in our families for generations but are now coming to the surface, for whatever reason, at this exact moment in time,”he continued as we paddled, the opposite shore drawing closer and closer.
“Oftentimes, magical abilities are also attached to artistic abilities. Don’t ask me to explain why, I am no expert, but the connection exists. It is perhaps why this city has remained a haven for our kind. Perhaps art is inherently magic. Regardless,yourmagic appears to be linked to your gift for song.” Ciaran finally connected his history lesson back to me. Which was absurd, and he was crazy. I told him as much.
“You may believe I’m crazy, but I was in one of the private boxes in that theatre tonight. I watched you sing. The power that came out of you at the end of your rooftop performance was one thing, but tonight—you could have lit up the whole city. You have an amazing gift. If you learned how to hone it… how to bend that raw energy to your will—” he ran a hand over his mouth, “—you could be unstoppable.”
I tried to process what he was saying, reflecting on my experiences singing throughout the years. I couldn’t deny the power that felt like it was stalking just beneath the surface. When I lifted my voice the way I had on stage tonight, it had made itself known. Was that magic? Wasthatwhy my mother had made me vow not to sing? I shook my head, clearing those dangerous thoughts. What would Seff say? Or Carlotta? What would they think about all this? It couldn’t be true. Because if it was true, life as I knew it would cease to exist. So, I didn’t respond to Ciaran, and I sat in silence for the rest of the boat ride. I could feel his disappointment radiating from where he stood behind me.
We reached the distant shore of the Cistern after what seemed like forever. I clambered out of the raft, trying my best to keep covered, my tiny dress riding up and down in all the wrong places. Ciaran stepped off and secured the raft in place. “Shall we?” He gestured ahead of him, to a passageway roughly hewnfrom the stone walls of the cavern. His cluster of lights floated ahead, and we walked.
“So, if I have magic… what does that mean? Will Scion beafter me?” In the near darkness of the tunnel, I felt compelled to voice what I had feared since Ciaran’s history lesson.
“I don’t know,” Ciaran admitted. “But tonight they were going to take you in for questioning at the very least. It’s possible that because you didn’t know about your powers, they would just arrest you rather than killing you outright,” he mused. It felt like he might have been placating me. “Either way, it wasn’t going to be good.”
“You said I could go back tomorrow… What will be different then?” It wasn’t an unreasonable question.
“They have no real cause to arrest you, just because some lights flickered and some wind blew around a stage. They will have their eyes on you, though. And they may try to find another way to bring you in for questioning,” he explained.
“So, unless my electricity blasts someone, I’m good?” My voice raised hopefully.
“Not exactly. Your magic is unpredictable. You haven’t trained it at all. You don’t know how or when it could manifest. If Scion is watching, you will have to be very careful.” Ciaran held up a hand. We were at a door. He placed his right palm on it and muttered something. A lock clicked, and the door sprung open, to reveal a very small but very tidy apartment, deep beneath the city.
“Welcome to my home.” Ciaran gave a half-smile.
He flicked on a small lamp as I stepped inside. The space was tiny and minimalist, appointed in shades of warm brown and dark wood. There was enough room for a couch, a breakfast table and a desk with a lamp in the living area. The kitchen, if you could call it that, consisted of a single counter with a one-compartment sink, some cupboards and two gas burners. Therewas a door leading to the bathroom on the right, and another leading to the bedroom at the back. There were no windows.
“You live down here?” I breathed as I took in the spartan space. He was tidy; everything was appointed with care and consideration, so unlike my own messy and cluttered space.
“I have a place in the city as well, but I’m relegated to this one now that Scion is actively searching for me. They came up with that terrorist bullshit so they would have cause to arrest me in Lutesse. But I didn’t blow anything up… this time.” He gave me a wary sidelong glance as my eyes widened. “Let’s just say Scion and I have a long, sordid history.” He chuckled darkly.
“Why should I believe you about any of this?” I turned to face him fully. The shock of tonight’s events were wearing off, anger replacing fear.
“Have I given you any reason not to trust me?” he snapped back, his dark features twisted with anger. “I’m trying to help you. Trying tosaveyou. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but believe me, I’m not the enemy, Seraphina.”
“Seff says you are,” I countered. “He says you’ve been trying to take down the Church for years, both here and in your homeland.”
“Well, he’s right on that account. I am trying to take the Church down. You have no idea how deep the corruption of that institution goes. You have no idea how much suffering they have inflicted on people, both magical and otherwise. The whole place is a cesspool of filth and depravity. They hide behind their sanctimonious,holier than thoumask, and behind it lurks the face of pure, unadulterated evil.” Ciaran’s face twisted in rage, anger pouring off him in waves.
Those horrible burns on his face—did they have anything to do with the sordid history he mentioned?
“Scion… they did that to you?” I whispered, gesturing toward his face, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
“Scion did that to my mother.” He looked straight into my eyes, and my stomach twisted, anticipating what he was about to reveal. “My mother had the gift of magic, and her abilities were to heal. At the time, we lived in a small town in Erinn, where people still trusted each other. The townspeople knew of her gifts and were happy to have her as a part of the community. Every day people came to her for help with their ailments, large and small, magic wielders or not. Until someone from the Church found out. They were in Erinn on amission.”
I was going to be sick.
