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“Anyway…” he continued hesitantly. “This premature access to your Quatura element could be because Umbra has disrupted your genetic blueprint.”

I still couldn’t believe that Umbra was inside my body. Someone in my ancestry had been cursed through the use of dark practices, but why? And why couldn’t I shake the feeling that the history of the Westcode family was actually darker than commonly known?

“I no longer have control over my powers,” I thought aloud. “No attempt on creating a control stone worked so far.”

I remembered Quentin’s ring, which prevented me from sensing his elemental essence right now.

Before I could hesitate, I asked the question that had been burning on my tongue since last week.

“Where did you get that ring?” Quentin looked up, his expression unreadable. “The one with the raven and the snake,” I quickly added.

I felt the warmth return to my cheeks and quickly looked back at the raven, which was still staring at my hand as if it didn't know whether it could trust me.

I pulled my hand back.

No one should trust me. I shouldn't even touch an animal with these hands. Or Erik...

My chest ached. Violently.

How long could I stand next to this man and lie?

“A family heirloom,” Quentin finally replied.

Again, countless questions popped into my head.

Obviously, his ancestors had hidden their elemental essence as well. But why? Did they distrust their own kind?

It had never occurred to me that Quatura could live without a circle. Somewhere out there in the world. Like normal humans. Their whole lives.

A deep longing wrapped my heart in its weight.

“Is there any way to recreate something like that?”

Quentin stared at me.

I didn’t look at him, couldn’t find the strength.

“You want to suppress your Quatura element?”

“I have to,” I told him, clenching my jaw. “I can’t control it, and I’m sick of this curse erupting from me every time.”

Quentin fell silent.

Was he thinking? Was he staring at me? If he was staring at me...

Abruptly, I glanced at him.

He wasn't staring. Instead, he buried his hands deeper into his coat pockets, where he had put his notebook, and looked at the raven.

“So, what were you doing here?” I asked cautiously. “All alone with your notebook?”

Erik was a nerd. And I put two and two together. Something was keeping him busy, and it had to do with the statue in front of us.

With growing curiosity, I looked up at the woman with the torch in her raised hand. A replica of someone? A Greek goddess?

“Nothing special.”

Disappointment spread through me, even though it had no right to. It was my fault that things had turned out the way they had, because I tried to control everything and ended up destroying something that meant the world to me.