Page 88 of The Incendiary

I remembered the story Gemma told me in Warrich. Some of it was false, but some I knew was true.

“He took something dark and evil—all‑consuming shadows,” she had said.

Months ago, I was overwhelmed, weak, and hungry. I had accepted it all too quickly for the sake of surviving and getting out of that house. I should have asked more questions, but I’d been reduced to a shell, and I had barely known where to begin.

Simeon thought I would take this lying down, but I would continue to seek out some semblance of the truth.

Dark and evil, I wrote. All-consuming shadows.

He immediately replied, Yes.

Molochai had taken more. From what? From whom? That magic came from somewhere, but the only source of magic I knew were the gods themselves.

The god with the power closest to shadows was…

Does Molochai have Nyxar’s power?

Shame shuddered through me, as if the suggestion had offended something deep within my bones. My body’s recoil was so strong and visceral that I didn’t need Simeon’s answer to know that Nyxar’s power was not corrupted, but good. He was midnight personified, as if midnight could come alive and seize the pain and ugliness revealed by daylight, crush it, stomp it out, and leave nothing but peace and pure light in the wake of never-ending power.

Simeon’s note returned and rested on the table before me.

I will not speak of it here.

I plopped down in the chair and rubbed my tired eyes.

Why don’t you tell anyone else how magic works?

I’m telling you right now, Aryella.

I had never heard his voice in this lifetime, but I could hear the impatience in that note. From wherever he watched. I made a point to roll my eyes, knowing he could probably see.

Where did the magic come from? I wrote.

The note disappeared, and a blank note reappeared. Not an answer, but a suggestion to ask something else. I cursed under my breath, enraged that I didn’t have much choice but to play his game.

Please, Simeon.

Another blank note. I fumed but forced myself to change course, for now.

Can magic be taught to others?

Finally, a response.

The magic exists only in your veins, in mine, and in Molochai’s. Our bloodlines are the only ones that have it. Sharing the information with others would benefit no one.

No. That was wrong. Even if they couldn’t wield it themselves, others could help think, research, and understand. Why keep others in the dark when their lives were just as much at stake?

Why are we the only ones who have the magic? I wrote.

I hoped this would guide him back to the source, but all he gave me was: It is as it was agreed upon. It can only be obtained one of two ways: stolen through murder or through bloodlines. It’s meant to grow stronger with each generation.

I frowned. If that were the case, then Gavin, Molochai’s son, would have been teaching me magic from the day he set foot in Warrich. He would have taken any opportunity to keep me away from Simeon, if he could keep me safe in the process.

If it’s only our bloodline and Molochai’s that can wield magic, why didn’t Smyth wield it?

It had taken me months to accept, but I trusted Gavin had done everything with my best interests in mind, wrong or not. If he’d been able to wield magic, he would have shown me. In fact, I had an inkling that if Gavin had been able to teach me everything I needed to know, including magic, he would have just abducted me and run.

My feet padded across the wooden floor of the cabin before I dug a book out of my bag, tore off a blank corner, scribbled out another question and hoped for the best.