Page 82 of The City Of Fractured Memory

I roll over onto my front, my laughter subsiding as I watch Amari’s blue aura escape once more as she reaches for her magic. She stands barefoot at the edge of the lake, the hem of her gown brushing the water’s shining surface. The vines that hang from the canopy pulse with their faint blue light, echoing the rhythm of her breathing as the waterfall roars behind us.

“The magic of the Echofae does not only come from within,” Amari reminds me softly, her voice carrying over the water. “It flows through us. The earth, the air, the moonlight—they are the conduits. We are simply the vessel.”

I gingerly get to my feet again, my joints protesting profusely, my hands trembling slightly. “And if the vessel is cracked?” I ask, half joking, half afraid as I mentally catalog all the places where my body hurts.

Amari smiles, but there’s sadness behind it. “Then we mend it, slowly. Patiently.”

I click my tongue in annoyance. Patience is not a luxury I can afford right now, not with the clock ticking on these murders.

She studies me with a grimace. “You still feel so much pain? It hasn’t changed?”

My gaze snaps to hers. “You know of it?”

Please, please give me some answers. Please let there be a solution–

“You were born in pain, my sweet child. As a baby you cried often, for no clear reason. Then as you grew and learnt to speak, you often complained about your pain. We took you to our best healers, but all confirmed there was nothing to be done,” she explains sadly.

I feel like the world has been ripped from under my feet. “There’s truly nothing that can be done?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers with a shake of her head.

For a second, I truly thought that this repressed part of myself might be the key to my pain, that unlocking it could be the answer I’ve been looking for. I feel a heavy weight press down on my shoulders. I always thought I would feel better if I at least had an explanation, but now I just feel worse than ever.

Suddenly, I’ve lost all motivation to practice my magic.

“I need a break,” I mumble, turning to trudge back to the cabin, their concerned faces watching my retreat.

I slump down ungracefully into a chair on the porch, feeling sullen. I can’t come to terms with the fact that I can’t fix my pain, even with access to all three types of magic. It’s just inconceivable.

After a while, someone steps up behind me and takes a seat in the adjacent chair. I turn and fail to hide my surprise when I’m greeted with Osiris’s smile.

“They’re arguing over you again,” he says by way of explanation. “Figured I’d come rescue you.”

“Rescue yourself from their squabbling, you mean,” I laugh, though there’s no humour in it and my smile falls. “Is it really true that no one can fix me?”

His smile drops too and he watches me with careful eyes. “There’s nothing to fix.”

I turn to face him fully, biting on my lip as I try to hold back my tears. “Amari said you’re a healer, one of their best. Can you not try?”

He leans forward and takes my hands in his. “Octavia, that’s not how this works. I can only fix what’s broken.”

I scoff. “I’m as broken as you can get.”

“No,” he says fiercely. “You are not broken. You’re just different, and that’s okay. Strength isn’t just physical. You’ve managed to navigate a world not built for you, and come out stronger despite it. You should be proud of yourself. Gods know I am.”

I sniff, my traitorous tears starting to fall. “I’ve come here to find out who I am, but somehow I just feel so…lost.”

“I understand,” he says with a small smile. “Maybe it’s about time you got your power back. Your real power. Harnessing your magic may help you start to piece yourself back together.”

“I don’t seem to be doing a good job at it so far,” I grumble, not willing to admit how much it irks me that I’m actually not good at something for a change.

“Practice makes perfect. You just need to keep trying,” he encourages. “I know you can’t stay long, but if you stay just a few days, I promise we will make some progress. Then you can leave knowing you’ve accomplished something.”

My ears prick up at that, and he smiles knowingly at me.

“Okay,” I breathe, clenching his hand tight. “Let’s do this.”

Amari kneels and places her palm flat against the damp soil for what feels like the thousandth time. The light in the vines intensifies, threads of energy shimmering through the ground until they reach her hand. The air hums, charged and alive.