Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 9.1 - Aster

Dedicated to Cynk Napp for all the love
they've given our stories over the years

Excitement taps at my mind, but I know I shouldn't let it in. Wild magic can be dangerous. At the same time, an anomaly I've only ever read about sits right in front of me, and I know Leavi wouldn't ever hurt anyone. How could I not be interested?

I've never heard of someone hearing artefacts before. Is her magic just trying to reach out to other magic? Artefacts don't have voices, so that must be simply how she's interpreting the magical information, similar to how when people scry, they see an image in the water, but there's nothing actually there. I don't know how to stop her from doing that, but if I had the ability to detect artefacts anytime I was close to them, I wouldn't want to give that up.

Her intent eyes watch me. My cheeks warm. "First, you'll need to be careful. Until you learn how to control the magic, you need to control your thoughts. The Old Mages seem to be under the impression it's triggered by strong emotion."

Doubt flickers across her face. "So I'm supposed to not feel anything?"

"That's not what I meant. It's more like—do you remember how you felt when Marcí fell on the porch after I predicted she would, or the night before we left, when I asked what you wanted me to tell you?" Her magic swallowed a fire the first time and built intricate illusions the second. Externally, they weren't moments I would peg as the height of emotion, but they must have been for her.

Her head ducks. "Yes."

"Well, however that felt, when you recognize it again, it might be wise to pause and—" I search for phrasing that doesn't sound like an insult.

She provides it for me. "Calm down?" She glances up, and I'm struck by the deep bark shade of her eyes. Her lashes are long and dark, like willow branches silhouetted against the setting sun.

I tear my gaze away to stare at a candle on the tea table. "If you think of something comforting to you, maybe something from your homeland, it might help."

She tucks a rouge lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll keep that in mind. But—" She bites her lip. "Is that all I can do? Just... hope to keep my thoughts in order?"

I pause, trying to remember my studies on wild magicians. "Old Mage Ciester philosophized that wild magicians were more connected with their magic, not less—which is why they can cast without needing the focuses of materials and words—but that the magic misinterpreted what the casters wanted." I lean forward on my knees, picking up speed. "And if it's a communication issue, then the more that you and the magic understand each other, the less it should act on its own." I look up at her. "There are exercises meant to help bring the caster into closer communion with their magic. If we can find a way for you to trigger your magic and impress your will upon it, the easier that should slowly become." I straighten again. "Did that make sense?"