I frown, hating the idea of making myself sad on purpose.
“You probably didn’t notice where your power originated when it just showed up, did you?” he guesses.
I think for a moment, then shake my head.
“The first step is to find out how it feels inside you. How it manifests and how it behaves in your body. Everyone is different so we can’t just create a rule that works every time.”
“How does it feel for you?” I ask.
“It’s like opening a box, and pulling it free. The first few times, it just exploded. But after that, it was much harder to reach. I think I suppress it naturally so I have to actively bring it forward.”
“That sounds like it might slow you down when you really need it,” I comment.
“It did, at first. Now, I do it without thinking, It’s like breathing,” he explains.
I can’t imagine controlling the gift like that. It feels like this volatile, foreign thing right now. A rush of energy surges through me and I feel a bit like I’m vibrating. The idea of that much power, of controlling it, is intoxicating.
“We start by triggering it, then sitting with it so you can study how it reacts, where it comes from. I guess, maybe you should sit?”
“Is this your first time teaching?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you.” He clears his throat. “Over there, there’s a crate you can use.”
I ignore the fluttering in my stomach as I walk to the crate. It’s covered in dirt and leaves so I brush them off, then sit.
“You can close your eyes, or not. Whatever it is you need to do to make yourself sad. When you start to feel the magic, don’t fight it. Encourage it if you can, but pay attention to where it is in your body. How it forms. All the details you can.”
Tingling sweeps up the back of my neck. “Are you going to watch me?”
“I’ll step outside,” he offers.
I watch him until he’s out of sight, then swallow hard. I’ve spent most of my life suppressing my emotions, especially any that are sad. After my brothers died, I took it to the extreme of drinking to the point of numbness. Somehow I have to bypass that and force myself to sit in that discomfort?
Maybe it’s better to call Caiden back in and try another method.
My face burns. How could I possibly think that being intimate with Caiden was better than letting myself feel sorrow?
I rest my elbows on my knees, then lean forward to rest my head in my hands. My brothers would be so disappointed in me. Not only was I being weak by shoving my emotions away, I was forgetting them. Disallowing myself to feel the pain of their loss also meant I tried not to remember them.
Their faces flash in my memory, as they were before they passed. Full of life and laughter. Always plotting something, first it was mischief as children, then it became missions for therebels as adults. Even when they were injured, they found ways to make everyone around them laugh.
But it wasn’t always games and jokes. They were cunning and decisive when needed. Their quick wits saved more than just their own lives over the years. And they always made me feel supported. Even when I wasn’t following in their footsteps as they hoped I would. Felix was the one I turned to if I ever needed advice, but Simon was the one I turned to when I wanted tough love.
My chest aches and a cold chill shivers down my spine. Gods, I could really use their advice right now.
Then again, maybe I wouldn’t want to hear it. They’d be furious that I’m getting lessons from Caiden because I should have already killed him.
Anger twists with sorrow into a cocktail that makes my head spin and my limbs feel leaden.How could you, Taylan?The back of my throat stings and my eyes burn as I scold myself.What happened to you?Coward. Pretender. Traitor.
The tightness in my chest gives way to something else. Something primal and dark. I’ve felt it before, a twisting, churning tangle of chaos. It’s like pure energy mixed with my own breath, writhing and clawing at my insides.
There you are.
The movement shifts, igniting like a spark at the acknowledgement. It’s as if it wanted me to find it. I hold on to it, letting all the other thoughts tumble from my mind. It’s blissfully empty and the darkness roars to life, enveloping me like an old friend. I suck in a sharp breath as my pulse races in response, but there’s a gentle undercurrent that’s more soothing. As if the gift itself is reassuring me.
I open my eyes to see shadows swirling around my ankles, billowing up to my knees. Rising to my feet, I reach out and the dark tendrils weave around my fingers, then circle my wrists andarms. They feel like a soft breeze, the gentle caress of a lover’s touch.
But as they coil and swirl around me, I can sense the danger lurking in their wispy darkness.
