When she manipulated Yargen’s magic, she first collected the power, learning it. Then, she envisioned what she wanted to be made. The shift was taking the raw essence of something, unraveling it, and then tightening it back in a new shape.
The thought brought them to the third pulse—unraveling.
Vi watched with keen eyes as the crown unraveled between fast pulses of magic. They were too quick for normal eyes to see. But Vi’s eyes weren’t normal. They were goddess-given, forged by Yargen between worlds.
Fourth pulse—remaking.
She tightened her fingers over Arwin’s and pushed her magic through the girl. Vi’s brows knotted with focus. The blue glass hardened further and reshaped slightly. When they pulled their hands away, there was a nearly identical replica of the crown Vi had made in shape. All it lacked was the glow and swirl of magic crystals held.
“You just…” Arwin pushed her chair away from the table, but didn’t seem to trust herself to stand. “You’re ahuman. You can’t use the shift.”
“I am the Champion, and magic is magic,” Vi said with unfounded confidence. “If it doesn’t obliterate, it is of Yargen. And it’s merely a matter of learning how to use a new set of powers.”
Arwin bit her lip, clearly debating the accuracy of this. Vi couldn’t blame her. She knew what Taavin had said about the morphi and how their power was viewed as deriving from Raspian.
Mortals and their misinformation. Vi’s heart ached at the sentiment.
“Will you teach me?” Vi said.
“Teach you what?”
“Everything you know about the shift.”
Arwin stared at her and gripped her seat with white knuckles. Vi feared if the girl let her chair go, she might topple over.
Despite her rigidity, Arwin managed a nod.
Chapter Nineteen
Time passed effortlessly.
Vi took her young tutor’s lessons on the shift to heart. She studied Arwin’s hand motions and listened intently to her words. But what the girl didn’t say was the best teacher. Vi felt every pulse, every pull and tug on the threads of magic and life that made up each and every object within the world.
Taavin had said Yargen’s magic was life. But it was so much more. Yargen’s magic was existence itself. It was the world, cut from the chaos that Raspian sought to reap. Every mortal magic was a different way to understand and interact with the raw essence of life itself.
Her understanding helped Vi learn the shift—something she was certain she couldn’t have done a world away, or even in this world, a few years ago. But that understanding didn’t replace time, patience, and practice.
At first, she helped Arwin adjust the shift. Then, the girl began teaching Vi how to do it on her own. How to draw out the power and change an object from what it was to what it could be.
The weeks pulsed into months without Vi so much as realizing.
“How much longer do you think it will take?” Taavin asked her from where he sat on the couch in the center of the room. A common space was located between their room and Deneya’s in the guest wing they occupied.
“Not much longer.” Vi leaned against the arm of one of the chairs opposite. She’d only just returned from working with Arwin and could still feel the magic under her hands. “I’m nearly there.”
“Good, we’ll need to return to the Dark Isle.”
“Not before Deneya has uncovered a link to Adela.”
“We don’t need Adela to get back.” Vi heard the frown in his voice before she even turned to look at him. “We have a vessel.”
“It’s been a year. Do you really think it’s still in the cove where we left it?” Vi asked with an arch of her eyebrows. Then, before he could speak, “Even if it is, do you think it’ll be seaworthy?”
“I don’t like the idea of working with Adela.”
“I know you don’t.” Vi sighed, turning away. She grew more and more weary of this conversation. “But we’ll need the strength and speed of her ship to get the flame… and to get to the isle of the elfin’ra.”
“That’s if—”
