A Mirage Of Milk And Honey

Chapter 20 - Constant Recoil

It had been accidental the previous times that Honey had manipulated such a large amount of Ether. It had been accidental when she'd amassed it all into her being, overflowing with it like an too full wineglass—just about to shatter. The feeling of the Ether surrounding her had been foreign. It'd been new, and over powering—filling her senses. She'd been thrown into an ocean of sights, sounds, smells, and sensations, and the flow of Ether around her–a feeling so novel and unfamiliar—was like the anchor she'd been tied to before she'd been tossed into the sea. It pulled her under, allowed all of her senses to clog, to fill with salty water, stinging her eyes, her nose, burning her lungs until she couldn't do any more than take a gulp of air, float back to the surface, and repeat the process.

But that was over two moons ago.

Honey had adapted, she'd learned how to push and pull Ether and even though it was the bare minimum, the feeling of Ether had become familiar. It stuck to her like a second skin, always present, always touching her, drawn towards her, lured to her the way air was drawn into her lungs. Now, she knew how to exhale. She was no longer suffocating, no longer taking in too big a breath, never ceasing, never stopping until she could no longer hold it.

In this moment, the Ether left Honey the way one sighs with relief. It flowed from her body and into the ground, cutting into the blades of grass below her hands, travelling from the green tips of leaves to the roots of trees, swirling through the life around her and igniting it like a parchment touched by fire. The glow of the forest increased around her, it expanded steadily and strongly, a smooth augmentation of light until that light could no longer be contained by the simple shrubbery or the tangled trees. It needed more space, more surface area to cover and consume and this pressure pushed and pushed until the trees were groaning and the leaves unfurling. The blades of grass unwinded and unfurled, flattening out and waving gently. Sprouts broke the surface of the earth, sifting their way through grains of dirt and sand to stand proud before they unfurled and bloomed into white, blue, pink and yellow flowers whose petals unfurled to reveal ultraviolet colours that shone in the moonlight and pulsed with power.

And then, Honey stopped pushing. She stopped forcing her powers into the ground, and instead let it flow, a smooth river of Ether.

She'd never seen what she was capable of before.

She'd never seen the flowers bloom, or the trees morph, or the grass grow. Not until that very moment, where she sat in the grass, on her knees with her hands tangled and encased in grass.

The Brisk-Beak sat before her, no longer stood on two legs but nesting in the grass as it stared at the surroundings, taking in the pale glow and the sweet smell of nectar and honey, tilting its head, its large eyes flickering back and forth.

Its attention was brought back to the girl before it. The Brisk-Beak surveyed her for a second, its head tilted in that analytical fashion that birds often do.

It sat closer than Honey had expected, and when it leaned in, its beak gently nudging in her direction, Honey untangled her right hand from the grass, and placed it on the dark onyx.

Before Honey knew what had hit her, the bird was bowing its head even further, pressing it against Honey's own, before gently standing, and bowing its head. The long feathers that protruded from the tip sides of its head flared like ears, and Honey stifled a laugh as she leaned forward, and plucked a single feather from its thickly coated body, bowing in return.

Soon enough, Honey was extracting her left hand from the ground and sitting patiently with her new companion as she waited for Aedis, musing over names.

"Twilight?" Honey voiced aloud, stroking a blade of grass beside her, weaving it between her fingers as she fiddled idly.

Her thoughts lingered on Aedis. Though he'd been torn away and shot up into the sky, Honey couldn't help but feel a surprising sense of calm. He hadn't seemed particularly stressed. Though she didn't know much about him in hindsight, she'd been told flat out that Aedis was powerful—Zemira had said as much all those weeks ago—and so she couldn't help but feel that, if it really came down to it, he would be fine.