Jazminda slept in past the usual sunrise wake up and train routine of the last few days. I considered going back to bed too, but the morning sun was luminescent, pouring a golden glow into the kitchen. A warm welcome. The sunlight bounced off the lime green table and onto the windows, beckoning me to come and sit. I glanced back at Jazminda's door, still shut, no sound. I tiptoed into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, grabbing a mug and summoning water. I held the thought in mind of the water bubbling and boiling, thoughts of feeling the warmth of the mug start to kiss my hands on either side of her porcelain cheeks. I smiled to myself as I looked at the swirling tendrils of steam coming from my mug. The spices were easy, that part felt a little more human, the jar of spices sat prettily on the shelf, surrounded by other glass jars of traditional herbs and spices. I ventured outside, slowly closing the door with a gentle swish of my hand, creating a cushion of cloud to stop the door from completely closing. Feeling rather chummy with myself I sat down to enjoy the morning at a far slower pace.
I perched on the stairs, mug in hand and sunrise in sight. The warmth of the sun tingling my skin, painting my face with shimmering gold light. I sipped away at my tea, enjoying the silence, the spices, the calm before the training storm. I sat here a long while, eyes fixed on the sun popping its head up between two hills shaped like camel humps. Only one thing would make this moment better right now I thought, I'd make a seat of clouds instead of the cold concrete stairs, just like the ones on the library balcony I'd grown to love.
The first attempt failed, the cloud was there, but the solidity behind it was not, landing me on my behind. The second time I imagined sitting on a solid wooden chair, the strength of the four legs and back rest, the softness of the cloud and the cushion combined. I was a little more hesitant this time as I sat, yet chuffed when it worked marvellously. I shuffled onto my cloud and watched the sun again, which was now sitting right above the humps and burning bright. I hadn't felt a single speck of power leave me from the tea and the cloud, even the water I'd pulled yesterday wasn't so tiring as it was invigorating. I wondered how much one would have to do to be so drained they could die.
Jazminda had said magic depleted your very power source as though it were sucking a dam dry, then it would hit the reserve tank, licking every bit of moisture from your body, as though it were pulling the moisture from the ground around the damn. The thought of just how much power it took for a Witch from Westerwick to get onto Earth sent shivers down my spine and right to my cheeks. The axis was broken, I'd been pondering how it was possible to travel through realms since the day I learnt of the axis and its detriment. "Thinking about witches again?" a voice interrupted my thoughts, not Jaz. Male, Cretan. I knew he was coming, yet I'd forgotten. I hadn't thought about what I'd even say to him yet. I was so consumed in my anger the last time I'd seen him that I'd nearly ruined everything he'd worked so hard to teach me, it made me wonder if he knew the same secrets Jazminda had come to learn.
"Cretan! You do have an unusually talented gift at guessing my pondering thoughts." I half smiled, still unsure how to sound, where to look, how to stand, how to be. I'd never been terribly great at apologies. Cretan stood still, I looked at his shoes, wondering what he might say, how he might scold me. The silence went on for a moment longer, I dared look up and reach his eyes, he was smiling, soft blue pools of kindness, a perfectly still lake.
He stepped closer, "Hal, I don't know what your imagined idea of a father is, but a good one you need not ever fear... even when you know you've done something wrong." I could feel the muscles in my throat start to burn, "what you did scared me, not only for the sake of the mission which I believe you now know of, but Hal..." he looked down at his own feet now pausing. "You remind me of, well, my daughter. She was so similar to you, and I just don't want to see you get hurt. Every time I've pushed you has only been for your good and I..."
YOU ARE READING
A Crown of Clouds
FantasíaHal Lancaster finds that there is more to the world, her life, her bloodline and herself than she could ever have imagined possible. The axis between realms has been broken for 80 years, until Hal fixes her mothers old fan, the one left on when she...
