Page 59 of Ashes of Aether
That is why when everyone bows their head and mutters it back, I cannot bear to do so. It would be a lie upon my tongue.
Soon my father ushers me from my seat and guides me to the center of the chamber where my mother lies. I feel like a piece of string trailing behind him.
We come to a stop before her crystal coffin. The lid is half open, revealing my mother’s pale face and the vibrant flowers she clasps to her chest. Though crystal coffins preserve bodies and my mother’s appearance hasn’t deteriorated over the past few days, I hardly recognize her face. The expression she wears is too still. She looks more like a doll than a person.
I grip the edges of the crystal coffin, and my tears fall within. Aether vibrates beneath my fingers.
This is my fault. If I were not so weak, I wouldn’t be looking down at my mother’s corpse.
I don’t know how long passes before my father pulls me from the coffin. I stagger back and stare up at the gods and goddesses. Silently I curse them for their cruelty.
The truth is clear. The mighty Caelum care not for us mortals, and there is little use in praying to them for salvation. We can only believe in ourselves and our own abilities. I can pray over and over to them, but the only way I can protect those I love most is with my magic.
And that is why, no matter the cost, I will become the most powerful mage Nolderan has ever known—even more powerful than my father.
Never again will I allow those I love to be stolen from me.
Seventeen
Aetherrushesthroughme.Iamdeaftoallbutthemagicsingingthroughmyblood,beggingforrelease.
I focus the energy into my fingertips. The storm of aether crackles. With the sheer force pounding through my body, even the arena’s towering walls fail to make me feel small.
I am power. I am fury.
“Folgos,” I hiss.
The aether sparks into lightning. It thunders from my palms and darts across to where Kaely stands.
“Laxus!” she calls, teleporting away before the lightning reaches her.
My spell continues onward and collides with the barrier surrounding the arena. The lightning bolt fizzles out. If not for the enchantment, our magic would have long destroyed our audience.
It isn’t only our class that watches us; many of the lower years perch on the edges of their stone seats, intently watching our duel. Fifth-years sparring on their final day at the Arcanium makes for a remarkable performance. Next week, we begin our Mage Trials. We are almost magi.
I turn, searching for Kaely’s new position.I find her behind me.
“Speculus!”she calls.
The aether in her hands spins out into two clones. Now three identical Kaelys conjure magic.
“Gelus!”they cry in unison, flinging large shards of ice at me. Each is shaped into a frozen arrowhead.
The two frost bolts conjured by her clones contain only a fraction of her power. But they will still hurt if they strike me.
I weave aether into fire magic. “Ignir’muriz.”
Flames roar in my hands. I pull them around myself in a blazing shield.
The three frost bolts crash into the fiery wall. The ice hisses. Water splashes across the stone slabs. Steam billows through the arena.
My shield remains strong. I shape the flames into a mighty fireball.
“Ignira,”I snarl.
Three years ago, I was disciplined in Archmage Gidston’s office for striking Kaely with this same spell. Now the Archmage watches us through narrowed eyes, her hands folded across her lap, as though she doesn’t realize that the two of us are aiming to kill each other.
This fireball might be the most ferocious one I’ve ever cast. Since my mother died, I have worked tirelessly to hone my skills and master all the spells I know—as well as the advanced magic I’ve learned more recently. Even my father would be proud of this fireball.