Sorcery's Hue (A Malion Series Novel)

Caught

Every time I swung my sword, she commanded me to do it again. And every time her spell failed, I adjusted her form and corrected her celestial. After nearly three months of teaching each other our best skills, we'd both become somewhat efficient.

Zaraquiel was able to cast Heal but leave gnarly scars, and my strength could have used much more work. The nightmares started and persisted precisely four weeks after entering the Deepshrouds.

Zaraquiel wasn't much empathetic help, so I resorted to leaving her tiny hole-in-the-wall-style home to duck behind some crates that cluttered the alleyway the house was tucked into. I would spend about an hour, maybe two calming myself down. It was an excellent way to practice my emotional stability, as each time the nightmares got worse, I could spend just a little less time outside.

I'd made it a habit to leave the cozy hole whenever anything upset me, to the point where if she and I had a disagreement, I would leave, primarily out of fear of hurting her. She would follow me, I'd demand she go back inside, and we'd discuss the issue once we'd had our space.

We shared so many common traits, but her and my patience were not the same. She was stubborn in a different way. And our determination was different too. Yet they were still patience, stubbornness and determination. The only fundamental differences between us were how we carried our traits. She noticed this, too, so she started to warm up more, open to my suggestions, and give me one or two elusive smiles.

I remember one evening, trying to suppress a nervous writhing when Zaraquiel presented her hand to me. I peeled myself out of the ball I'd retreated into. Our eyes met, and I slowly took it, half expecting her to pull it away like she'd done so many times before. I cradled it in both hands and started to curl around it.

"Thank you..." my murmur floated into the air. She nodded stiffly, glancing over at her hand.

"You're not going to blow it off, are you?" She muttered softly. I shook my head gently.

"I've been trying to suppress my magic as much as my body can manage, but it's getting worse and worse. It feels like my skin is getting ripped off whenever the urge comes up to release it. It's... a little manageable, but I can't focus on anything else when it does happen. No lesson today... I'm sorry." I breathed, burying my head into my knees.

"Can... Can I have my hand back? I can feel your chest heating up like you're about to spit fire at me. Do you need anything?"

I'd been holding her loosely closed hand up to my chest the whole time. When I released it, I got onto my side and hugged a nearby pillow close to me.

"I'm just going to lay here for a bit while you practice. I'll see if I can focus on your form." I mumbled, looking at the Deep Osrocan through half-lidded eyes. She sighed, gave me fleeting glances and began. My eyes began to blur as I watched her, so I focused on her.

"Leg a little forward."

"Ok."

"There... try and keep your back straight. Now try the words."

She spoke clearly and concisely, and her hands started to glow bright gold. I watched her eyes widen, and she turned to me with the brightest smile I'd ever seen on her face. A little grin grew, and I sat up.

"Can I use it on you?" She asked, taking tiny steps towards me. I nodded, and she hovered her hand over my neck.

I took her hand and slowly pulled it closer until the magic simmered between our skin. I gave her a little giggle while her face stretched out surprisedly.

"So you need to touch people for magic to work?"

"Just contact spells. Can I touch your burn scar?" I asked, golden light swirling around my hand. She hesitated but allowed me. Cradled her cheek in my hand, watching the dark scar lighten only slightly. It darkened once my hand left, though.

"That is really strange. Does it always feel like that?"

"It feels much better, refreshing even when the wound is new," I explained. Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly my arm burst open, and a short spray of blood stained the wall on that side. I stared at her, my breath starting to get heavier.

"What...?" I breathed. Suddenly I was outside, in the little alley where the door to Zaraquiel's home was hidden. A quick wave of my hand that was then pressed into the wound made it a scar. I stayed there for a long moment before the door opened.

"Don't say anything. I'll be back inside soon. I just need to cool off." I growled at her, glancing at her with my back turned. The door then closed after a pause. I took a breath and drifted towards the darkest corner, only noticing the foul smell of the waste bin once I was close enough to compulsively look into it. Once I did, I turned and released the bile, broiling up. What had come out of me nearly smelled better than Faric's head nestled in compost. I looked again after regaining my composure to find a decomposing dead animal. I wondered what that was while I sat on the little porch framing the entrance to her cottage. Sometime later, she came back outside.

"Varitran, please come back inside. I wanted to test my magic, see if it could heal something." She spoke softly and gently while she approached me.

"Please let me know next time. Had I not teleported out of there, I would have harmed you like I'd done everyone else." I muttered, staring at the arm that had been tempting me to etch into it with my claws. I shook the feeling from my mind as soon as it came up.

Just as Zaraquiel began to say my name, we heard a yell from the mouth of the alley. A thunderous roar exploded through the alley until the entrance to Zaraquiel's home was surrounded by armoured Deep Osrocan. I looked back at Zara before I was pulled into a tight hold. I struggled, but I couldn't escape.

"Zaraquiel! I will find you!" I yelled. They grabbed me away, "I promise!"

I heard her fading yell just before a sharp crack in the back of my head made my vision go dark.