11
Morgana
In the week following Skye’s transition, Aranare trained us both daily, first in combat and then in some form of magic-wielding.
We toiled for hours beside the old graveyard, our wooden sticks clashing. Even as mist curled around our ankles and sleety winds lashed at us, we trained.
When it came to magic-wielding, we often worked on allure, Aranare trying to break through our shields, then switching as we attempted to breach his. My ability to resist his influence and summon my own steadily improved, but the rest of my magic remained unpredictable.
On the other hand, magic came naturally to Skye. She didn’t seem burdened by the battle to control her mind like I was. And without powers that could reduce people to dust, she was less hesitant to practice with them. But she loathed combat. She spent most of our sessions sitting in the grass, watching, while I’d managed to disarm Aranare over ten times.
Today, we’d been practicing my perilous dust magic down at the beach, and my muscles ached with every step, exhaustion settling deep in mybones as we trudged back to the boardwalk after four relentless hours of training. It hadn’t been too bad. Most times nothing had happened, and twice the power had torn from me violently, turning the sand around us black and causing Skye to shriek. But I had also managed—on three separate occasions—to turn a single shell to dust.
“Full moon tomorrow.” Aranare jerked his chin toward the darkening horizon, leaning against the open door of his Range Rover.
The ocean breeze caressed us, and the waves sighed as my stomach hollowed out. I was severely underprepared for our trip beneath the waves.
“You’re coming with us, right?” He turned to Skye, aiming for a casual tone, but the flush in his cheeks and the bob of his throat betrayed him—her answer meant everything.
Sometimes, I caught a lingering glance between them or noticed Aranare’s careful attention during training, but Skye was clearly still torn up over Parker.
“I still don’t know,” she mumbled, suddenly absorbed by a fraying hole on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
My chest tightened. I hoped she would choose to stay with me, because if she didn’t, I was worried she would return to Parker.
“Skye,” I said gently. “You can’t stay here.”
“I know.” Her throat constricted, and her eyes filled with tears. “But those scales... the wings.”
“Releasing your wings is a choice.” Aranare’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Magic mastery has come easily to you. If you don’t want to unfurl them, then don’t.”
“But you want us to go down there?” Skye lifted a trembling hand toward the waves, swollen and dark beneath the evening wind that whipped across the bay.
I stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her back. Her face blanched,and her shoulders shook. I knew she was remembering what it felt like to sink beneath the surface.
“This time, it will be different,” I said quietly.
She nodded, but her bottom lip was trembling.
Aranare’s eyes shone with agony as he watched her, and then he shot me a look that said,Talk to her.
That night, Skye and I lay curled together, the moon glowed through drifting clouds beyond the window, luminous and nearly full.
“My whole body feels like it’s in pain,” Skye groaned, pulling the patchwork quilt up to her chin.
My bed was only a single, so we slept head to toe, but I didn’t mind. It kept the shadows and aching loneliness that had haunted me since I’d returned to land at bay.
“Tell me about it.” I massaged my shoulders.
“How did you come to terms with... you know, becoming half a seal?” Skye toyed with the sleeve of her sweater.
I rasped out a chuckle. “You never fully come to terms with it, but once I discovered that part of myself, I had to explore it. It was scary, but I’d have carried more regret if I hadn’t.”
She met my gaze, nodding slowly, but there was a heaviness behind her reflective eyes.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to come, but I really hope you do.” I leaned forward, threading my fingers through hers and gently squeezing them.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
