Grandma, and so many others…Myradidn’t understand how many of his family were Phoenices. She also didn’t understand part of being aPhoenixmeant that you couldn’t be immortal forever. You might get a new body every couple hundred years, but eventually you let yourself go; it was called Ab Apecim. At first, it meant at the end, but they changed it a bit so it was “at the summit”. They had been dedicated to the Shifters their whole life and they were finally rewarded with eternal rest for it. It wasn’t a sad event, it was a celebration.
But when the Genitor disappeared, there was a sudden wish by many of the older Phoenices that they would be allowed Ab Apecim. They quaked at fear at the fact that she had disappeared. Did it mean the Shifters were nearing an end? Did it mean that all the races would fall to the automatons?
Before the invasion of Intermundium, Caleb had never before seen an automaton. He had never been so frightened in his life, and he was nervous for theMyra, the short girl with flying brown hair and shining golden eyes. Her words had ignited the Shifters’ rage like it hadn’t been for centuries; she had seen the power in her words, yet she still seemed like a young girl who wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do. Caleb knew that the automatons had to be defeated in order for the Shifters to ever have peace, andMyrawould have to lead the Shifters in the war against them.
Caleb had heard tales of the GC not only being able to travel like the Phoenices, but through time as well. He didn’t see how this was possible, but he also saw that perhaps, if she used that, automatons might have not been invented at all, and they wouldn’t have begun attacking people. Stories of werewolves skewered with silver swords, the fair folk being struck with wrought iron bullets, and dryads’ trees being chopped down by the thousands all haunted him. One, the most horrifying, was about a witch whose magick had somehow been stolen. Absently, Caleb clicked his fingers and a tiny flame burst to life. He examined it, trying to think about a life where he couldn’t use magick.
That was the only lesson he received with his father; magick. So far he’d mastered the basics, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to specialize in. He had mastered the basics, of course—boiling a pot of ice water, stacking small objects without touching them, and easy healing techniques—but he felt like he was best at Elementals. He pretended to have trouble with it, and it wasn’t difficult, considering he really had trouble with all his academic classes.
Somehow, he felt that he shouldn’t share his abilities; besides, he had nowhere to practice alone. As he thought, the flame grew loftier and towered over his head. There was a burning odor, and immediately Caleb’s head shot up. His fire was burning a tiny hole in the ceiling. He stopped his flames, shot a spurt of water from his fingers, and doused the fire. Reilly walked into the front hall, after meandering off somewhere—after all, she did live here—and saw the steady drip of water on the carpet. Her eyes traveled up the stream of water and found the scorch mark on the ceiling.
“You’re an Elementalist?” she said, surprised.
“No,” he said hurriedly, “That was…there.” Her eyebrows arched absurdly high and he was sure she knew he was lying.
“You haven’t told anyone?” she inquired suspiciously.
“No,” he said desperately. “I really didn’t do that.”
“How’d it get there, then?” she asked skeptically. “It wasn’t here when we walked in the front door.”
“Yes, well, I’d thank you to stop blaming me for everything,” he snapped, getting defensive.
“I’m not blaming you for anything! I’m just pointing out the fact that burn wasn’t there when I left the room, and when I came back, with you the only one in the room, it was.” Internally, Caleb had to acknowledge that Reilly was right. She was wonderful at debating; maybe that’s why he disliked her imperious manner so much.
