A Touch of Death

Chapter 24

Aoife and Tarran spent hours upon hours in the lab, searching for solutions to the curse. Aoife had made no progress thus far on her powers, still drying herbs and mixing potions without any changes or developments in her abilities. Today, Aoife sat at the table while Tarran updated his maps, marking new places where the curse had taken effect. She picked up herb after herb from a fresh pile on the table, still trying to touch them without unintentionally making them wither in her hand.

Yet another herb turned brown and dry as she picked it up with a heavy sigh.

"Try again. At least this time we can use the dried herbs if you fail."

"It's impossible."

"We know you can push life energy into other things- it's no doubt why your potions are so effective despite their relative simplicity."

"I hate touching things with my bare skin. It makes me... makes me..." She didn't know, though. She couldn't quite put her finger on how it made her feel. Cramped? Crowded? Anxious? Terrified?

"However it makes you feel, have you tried letting yourself feel the opposite?"

Aoife blinked up at Tarran with wide eyes. The answer wouldn't be that simple. It couldn't be. She'd spent her entire life trying to navigate the complex world of her magic, of keeping anyone from touching her...

But when she was younger this hadn't been a problem. She'd been able to hug her father and touch her sisters without fear of causing them pain. She could walk through fields of flowers without fear of them wilting underneath her feet, barefoot or with shoes on.

How had that felt? How had it felt to hug her father? To have her hair stroked by her older sisters? Aoife let the wash of memories come over her, looking down at her hands as she thought about the calm that used to run through her at just a small touch from her sister. She thought of the love for her family that she felt as a child in her father's arms. As she remembered, the tension began to fade from her shoulders. Her heart rate slowed rather than sped up at the idea of touching something again. Her breathing was calm and peaceful.

She reached out, half in a daze, and picked up a green stem of Queen Anne's lace. It was firm under her touch, still damp from the early morning dew, and the flowers were lush and white and tiny. She examined the flower in her hand as she held it, her mind on the plant rather than on her magic.

It did not wither.

"Whatever you're thinking, keep thinking it!" Tarran said quickly, eyes locked on the plant in her hand.

"I- I don't know," Aoife stammered. "I just thought that maybe if I tried to release a little of the tension in my body, it might release the impulse to... to pull energy in? Does that make any sense?"

"Yes! You're brilliant!" Tarran said, clapping his hands together. "Every Fae has to find their own way to release their magic, and you may have found yours. At the very least, you've managed to find the middle ground." A broad smile spread across his face like Aoife had never seen before.

She'd never seen someone so excited over an utter lack of magic. Aoife thought that Tarran actually looked quite beautiful when he smiled, and the smile was infectious. A grin spread across her own face as she gently placed the herb back on the table, still looking fresh and green. She thought that if she tried, she could sense a web of energy in the room, sense the threads that connected the lives of herself and Tarran, of the plants and animals far below the tower in the forest beyond. Perhaps it was her imagination.

Perhaps it was not.

In any case, the tension seemed to melt from her body for the first time in years as she picked up another plant, doing her best to keep her breathing calm despite her utter joy. The herb stayed green in her hand.

Aoife could have cried with joy. It was only a small victory, but she'd had very few victories at all when it came to her magic.

However, all of a sudden her face fell as a concerning thought struck her.

"What's wrong?" Tarran asked, brow furrowing.

"It's only that... if I've always been able to do this, why couldn't I have done it sooner?"

"It's never easy to learn to control your magic, especially on your own, especially when your abilities are as potentially dangerous as yours."

"I suppose," she mumbled.

"How many villages did you run away from?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Three. The last time was when I met you in the forest."

"Did they all chase you away?"

"No. I left the first two of my own accord. The third was... more difficult," she said carefully. "Why?"

"Curiosity," Tarran said simply.