Memories torment and soothe. Her mother taught her that despite the intrinsic fight for divergence, all things are connected. Evolved in nature’s womb, magic is the foundation of everything.
How a person wields magic means nothing in the greater universe.
Her father showed her how to call on celestial bodies to extract magic in precise quantities to fuse with earth’s creations: stones, gems, and metals. Never too much or too little. Never too fast or too slow. He often spoke of perspective and problem-solving, temperance and patience.
You don’t always need an answer. Without wonder and mystery, magic dies.
But when the teaching ended, they’d sit under the stars and tell stories, reminding Veda that magic, like any element, is forged by cosmic events and phenomena. Falling meteors, solar flares, the births and deaths of stars. Energy. The days she remembers best are those filled with stories of lives lived before her: her parents’ childhoods, their Sight. They would laugh, cry, and hold each other in those moments. It was then her parents stopped being giants in her world and became real.
Gardening with Antaris reopens the wound their absence left. She didn’t lie when she said the pain hadn’t changed. It follows her, lies beside her at night, and rises early with her to inspect the greenhouse. Some days it whispers. Today, it screams. Veda can’t quiet it until she lets herselfremember.
When she opens her eyes again, Khadijah is on her knees, facing east, glowing in the sun.
“How long have you been here?”
“A few minutes. I was giving you time with your parents.” She looks over her shoulder at Veda. “Rough day?”
“Yeah.”
“Ready to get out of here?”
“Where are we going?”
“Panoramic.”
A microcosm of Seers, Panoramic lies in uptown Proventia, bustling and thriving with all the necessities of life found within its nine-block radius. It’s the only place that’s truly theirs. Inside, Seers relax, their guards down and smiles genuine. Still, to the chagrin of separatist-leaning Seers, everyone is allowed in. Some Mages treat it like a zoo, taking pictures of Seers going about their day. Others come to shop or pitch business deals. Even at Khadijah’s side, Veda’s early visits used to draw curious stares. But now, Seers wave as they walk into the Conclave, the largest event hall in Panorama, for the town hall meeting.
“I’m going with my uncle to update the Council on Everett after the meeting, and give them Gabriel’s and Francisco’s information if they want to talk. I’m prepared for an argument,” Khadijah says. “Have you seen Marlene?”
They spot her only because she’s in a floral pastel-blue dress with a blue-jay amulet hanging around her neck. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail of tight coils so black they look blue. The look is pretty and accentuates her curves and fuller figure, but is not her usual style of monochrome with bold pops of color.
Khadijah folds her arms. “Well, well, well. Hello, stranger.”
Marlene grins like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and throws an arm around her friend. “Khadijah! I know, I know. Don’t start yelling. I’m sorry I canceled our plans the other day, but I’ve been swamped at work. I’m gunnin’ for a promotion, so I’ve been picking up extra shifts.”
Veda isn’t sure why she frowns, but the excuse is good enough for the equally career-minded Khadijah. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”
“I won’t.” Marlene turns and smiles. “Hey, Veda.”
The seats next to them are open. Veda takes the aisle, Khadijah and Marlene sit beside her, Everly at the end. As she catches pieces of their conversation, Veda scans the nearly full meeting hall. She hopes Everett turns up, but sees only his mother, who looks stressed out.
“What happened there?” Khadijah asks, pointing at a bruise under Marlene’s ear. “Want me to heal—”
“No, it’s fine. I had a little work accident,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Typical.” Khadijah laughs. “Be careful.”
The clock tower chimes seven times, and a hush falls. It’s time for the meeting to start. Tonight, they are nearly at capacity, and when they do roll call, Veda learns some are from as far east as Spokane. There’s a strange charge in the room; murmurs hum and people look around as if expecting someone famous to jump out. The doors open for the Oracle Council to enter.
The Council is made up of thirteen women and five men. Veda knows only five by name: Clinton, their leader; district representatives Moab, Ruth Wells, and Ani Johnson; and lastly, Lucinda Hampton, their deponent, an appointed member who oversees magical agreements. The rest of the Council perform a variety of duties. Most have been voted in over the last five years as old members retire or leave Proventia. Moab helps Clinton settle in his chair before taking his own seat. The rest follow suit.
The first order of business is the good news: new Seer-friendly businesses, proposals to local officials, Panoramic’s street-repaving schedule, and a clothing drive for displaced Seer teenagers. Then come the cautions: areas to avoid due to rising attacks on Seers, and a reminder not to wander the streets alone at any time of day. Overall, it’s a routine meeting until Clinton announces, “I have invited a guest tonight and given him a Standing Liberty coin.”
Murmurs ripple through the room. This, it seems, is what they’ve been waiting for. Receiving a coin is an honor. It allows the recipientto formally introduce themselves. Veda received hers months after her arrival, and while she didn’t like the spotlight, it helped her integrate.
“Remember, the lion’s den is where you test yourself.”
Clinton’s ominous words bring silence. Veda joins everyone in searching for the guest. Slowly, a man in a baseball hat and sunglasses walks down the long aisle. At the podium, he removes both the hat and sunglasses.
