His words sank in her stomach, but Aizel forced herself to stay focused on the task at hand.
She listened to the space around her. It was absolutely silent, but in a tangibly thick way, like the seashore on a foggy morning.
The lack of sound was oppressive. It made her feel even more cold and uncomfortable. She wouldn’t be able to draw on the harmony around her. She would have to channel her magic by bringing the harmony from within herself.
She closed her eyes. Her stomach twisted with thoughts of Celesta . Her ankle was stiff and still not fully healed. Her muscles felt weak and tired after the attack of the Quotidian mages. She didn’t feel peace.
Her heart started to race. If she couldn’t find a way to channel harmony, she would have nothing with which to power her magic.
When she had needed to use magic as a diver, she always had the peaceful presence of the ocean to give her strength, or the augmented use of the lotus-scented oil—which was still in the small sack hanging from her side!
But it was poisoned.
Pulling the bottle from her bag, she dropped to her knees and looked for a crack in the stone floor. Unstopping the vial, she carefully poured its contents into it. She would never use such a thing on another living person.
The lotus scent filled the small space, but it carried a sickly-sweet smell that was unusual.
Aizel put the vial back in her sack and stood away from the area.
Peter was watching her movements, but he didn’t question her.
She stopped, looking back at the old man. He was calm. He had been here for a long time, but he had remained selfless and humble. He was close to being peaceful despite his unfortunate circumstances.
Aizel nodded. Just thinking of his actions relaxed her chest. She could work with that. She was thankful he had risked everything to try and get her sister—and others—to safety.
She smiled at him, thanking him in silence, then turned to examine the grated door. It was made of interconnected iron rods. Reaching through, she could feel the large lock connected to the door handle.
She shook it, testing its strength.
The lock wouldn’t come off easily.
Perhaps she could force the iron bars into a hole large enough for them to step through?
She stood back. Her toes tingled and her fingers felt restless. She was excited to use her voice but incredibly nervous. Throughout her life, she’d rarely had the chance to use it in an experimental capacity.
Yes, she could use magic to change the world around her, but she barely knew how.
Music was the best way to channel harmony and it was easy to use song to manipulate the emotions of people around her.
Manipulating matter was far more difficult.
Closing her eyes, she began to hum. She started with a melody she knew well, but the notes came out flat.
Inhaling, she started over. She imagined the iron bars moving slowly out of the way, bending their shape to let her pass through them. Slowly, she gained confidence and started to sing the words to the song. They were in the ancient language her mother had always sung in. She didn’t know the words, but they sounded beautiful.
She was tempted to open her eyes after the first verse, but she knew she would lose momentum if the magic hadn’t started working. So, she finished all four of the verses she knew.
Then she cracked open a single eye.
The metal bars remained firmly in place.
She opened both eyes, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
“That was beautiful,” Peter said. “My lungs are breathing easier than they have in a long time.”
“Thanks,” Aizel muttered. “But it did us no good.”
“It did me some good.”
