Pebble’s posture immediately stiffens and a detached mien shutters over his features.
“Caster Aylin’s abilities are unparalleled. She is a lucky find, if not a mysterious one,” Elder Albrecht announces, a suspicious bite to his tone, as he flattens nonexistent wrinkles out of the front of his button-down shirt.
I can’t help the huff of annoyance that escapes me at the accusation in his eyes. It looks like I’ve come full circle back to thethreatbullshit. Marilyn Manson or Caster Sawyer, as he’s apparently going by these days, gives me a small knowing smile at my sound of irritation. I shrug my shoulders in awhat can you domotion, and he chuckles.
“They may think I’m all big scary powerful, but they’re about to find out that I can’t do shit with my magic. It doesn’t listen to me. It’s a veryangsty teenagerand only does what it wants, when it wants,” I whisper to Marilyn.
His chuckle grows into a deeper laugh, and his eyes fill with a friendly understanding.
“That’s what I’m here for. We’ll get it all sorted out today, and you’ll be taking over the caster world in no time,” he says, with a conspiratorial wink from his darkly lined eye.
“Caster Sawyer, you may begin your assessment,” Elder Balfour announces.
The low rumbles of other conversations around the elders stop, and all eyes focus in on me and the caster now facing me.
“I know it feels weird to have an audience, but you’ll have to try and block them out,” Marilyn tells me, his black painted lips lifted in a smile. “Well Vinna, I’m going to walk you through some visualizations and activities that will help me test your control and command of the power you hold. Now, let’s start with how you reach for the different branches of magic you possess. Can you identify the different tones or impressions each branch has inside of you?”
“I’ve read about all of them before I had my reading, I was trying to figure out what branch I might have…”
“I bet that was confusing,” Marilyn says with a snort.
“Yeah, that’d be an understatement. Nothing I felt inside seemed to match what the books said. Now I realize that’s probably because I have more than one branch of magic.”
Marilyn nods his head in agreement and begins to circle me, looking me over with a critical eye.
“Close your eyes please, Vinna. Before we can do much as far as the assessment goes, you need to learn how to call each individual branch of magic. I imagine that you aren’t having much success at this point with managing your magic because you are feeding your intent with multiple branches of power, not all of which are capable of doing what you ask of them.
I consider his words, and surprisingly what he’s saying makes sense to me. I think back to the times I’ve tried to use my magic and failed. He’s right. When I attempt to do anything outside of using my runes, on purpose, I call on everything in my center and try to force it to do what I want. I close my eyes and before he can instruct me, to I tap into my source of magic.
“Very good, that’s exactly what you need to do,” Marilyn tells me, like he’s a passenger in my body and can see what I’m doing. “Now that you’ve given yourself access, let's identify the differences in the branches, starting with Offensive magic. I’m going to list off different ways that Offensive magic users have described their magic, and you tell me which resonates best with yours, okay?”
I nod my head. “Okay.”
“Offensive or armament magic is usually the easiest to identify. It feels aggressive, eager, and demanding. Casters usually see it in tones of red or pink. It has a cool feel to it, not icy, but the touch of a cool fall day. It will come willingly when called, but can be the hardest to reign in and control.”
I visualize the magic in my center, and the image of a squirmy and tangled ball of yarn comes to mind. As I listen to Marilyn describe what I’m looking for, I search through the jumbled cords and find strands that match his descriptions. The Offensive magic in me is magenta, and the deep consuming pink threads have a restless feel to them. There is a soothing coolness that brushes comfortingly through me as I call the magic forward, and I can’t help the excitement that flashes through me when the twitchy magenta tendrils listen and come to the forefront.
A staticky buzz flashes haphazardly across my body, and I know that the magic is lighting up my skin in bolts and streaks.
“Very well done, Vinna. Now, I want you to seize that magic and use it to take away my eyesight.”
My eyes jerk open at his request, but I just manage to keep my hold on the magic.
“It’s fine. There’s no right or wrong way to do this. It’s your puzzle to solve and whatever you do will not be permanent,” Marilyn reassures me.
I question how smart this is for a second but decide he’s the one asking for it, so who cares. I focus in on his charcoal smoky-lined eyes and the rich brown color of his irises. I picture them clouded over with a white film that keeps all light from penetrating the pupil. I show the magic in my grasp what I want it to do, and when it gets restless, I release it and watch stunned as Marilyn’s eyes are brown one moment and white and unseeing the next.
“Holy shit, I did it,” I say completely surprised.
Instead of freaking out like I would expect, Marilyn smiles and claps his hands, praising me.
“Excellent! Now, feel for the traces of your magic that are now a part of me, because of what you just cast. When you find it, call it back to you, and your casting will lift.”
Slowly I work through his instructions and figure out how to do what he’s explained. His unseeing white eyes deepen until they’re brown again. I pat the deep pink magic that’s once again in my grasp and then wrestle it back into my center with the rest. Marilyn Manson gives me a proud smile, and I can’t help it when my own mirrors it. Bring on the magic lessons!
7
Marilyn Manson and I spend three more hours identifying my different branches of magic and getting them to cooperate when called. My Defensive magic, which is orange and feels warmly protective, comes as easily as my Offensive magic came. My Healing magic, which is a soft teal, is harder to find and hold onto in the tangled ball of magical tendrils at my center. The fact that my Healing magic is such a pain in the ass surprises me. It seemed to cooperate easily when I called on it in the cellar with Nash and the others as we were planning our escape from the lamia. Right now, the magic feels thick, but it slips out of my fingers so nimbly and quickly that I know I have my work seriously cut out to master it.
