Arcane Rising: The Darkland Druids - Book One, R Nicole [suggested reading TXT] 📗

my arm grew its own holographic crystals, but maybe preparedness was three quarters of the equation.

“What are the limits of a Druid’s Colour? What can we do exactly?” I asked.

“Druids are linked to the fabric of nature, including the threads which create reality,” Rory explained. “We can do just about anything with enough study and experience, but it always comes at a price,” he tapped a finger on my temple, “mentally and physically.”

“So I’m limited by my own strength?”

“Correct. There are ways to amplify Colour, like crystals, but there’s always a limit. Strengthening the mind can also help, so does the simple passage of time.”

I felt my brow furrow as I contemplated his answers. “Is it the same with the Chimera?”

“As far as we can tell, yes.”

I guessed they weren’t willing to divulge their weaknesses to the enemy, but if they were bound to the laws of nature, then it stood to reason they were limited in the same ways.

“And there are some Druids who can do different things like Jaimie?”

Rory nodded. “Those abilities are inherited through different family lines.”

“Can you do anything special?”

“I’m a regular vanilla Druid.”

He looked disappointed, but I still thought he was cool, so I told him.

“Let’s try without the stele first,” he said with a shake of his head. “As an adult, theoretically, you don’t need it.”

“Thank goodness. I wasn’t looking forward to cutting myself.” I loosened my shoulders. “So, what am I making?”

“Try something simple, like a flower. A lot of the ones you see in the Warren are made from prisms.”

A flower? It seemed easy enough to imagine a daisy, but what about all the lines and angles I’d seen shimmering in Ignis’ coat? I knew the cat was way more complicated—and light-years beyond my comprehension—but he was still made from the same basic Colour.

“How do I know what shape to make?” I asked, my brain almost exploding trying to figure it out. “Aren’t prisms supposed to be complicated geometric patterns?”

“They are,” Rory said, “but you don’t need to worry about that. Your Colour understands your intent and forms around it. That’s what creates the elaborate shapes. You don’t need an equation or a ruler.”

“You say it like it’s simple and not totally weird.” Like I hadn’t just found out magic existed a handful of days ago.

“Because it is. It’s who you are, Elspeth.”

“Okay.” I held out my hand, palm facing up. “So, do I just picture it in my mind and…make it grow?”

“See? You don’t need a teacher.”

I shook my head and pictured the first flower that came to mind—a daisy with a bright yellow centre and white petals. Simple, right?

I narrowed my eyes and instantly felt ridiculous.

“You’re not trying to make your hand explode,” Rory quipped. “Don’t squint like that.”

“Shh,” I hissed. “I’m concentrating.”

A spark of warmth prickled in my palm, and to my surprise, a blue and purple drop sprung into life.

It gained form, shaping into lines and drew into a triangle, then sprouted another side to become three-dimensional.

“I’m doing it,” I said with an excited gasp.

“Concentrate,” Rory coaxed. “Remember your intention and allow your Colour to form the prism.”

Locking onto my mental image of the daisy, I willed the copy to grow in my hand. The triangle continued to grow, other lines and angles adding themselves to my first prism. Even curves and spirals sparked into existence, softening the hard corners.

My breath caught as blue and purple light began to solidify into a bright yellow centre with pure white petals. I was conjuring a flower from nothing. Scratch that…not nothing, from Colour.

“This is where it begins,” Rory murmured. “Small steps this time.”

I held my palm up to the light and tilted my head to the side, inspecting the forming daisy.

“I can’t believe it…” Tears pricked in my eyes. “I did this. Magic.”

“Without the stele, too…and it’s pure Colour,” Rory stated. “Nothing green about it.”

“Very funny.” I groaned as the flower sparked and began to dissolve, losing its shape as my concentration lapsed.

“And that’s what happens when you don’t finish a prism,” he added. “It crumbles and goes back to where it came from.”

I watched in amazement as the Colour broke apart and faded into my skin like weightless glittering sand. Cool.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rory began, his expression taking the shine off my triumph.

“What?”

“You named your cat Ignis.”

I curled my lip. “So?”

“Everything links back to your father’s death. Is there a reason?”

“How should I know? The cat chose his name, I just gave him some suggestions.” Awkward silence opened between us that I didn’t like. “Yesterday you said people were talking about me. That there were rumours. What are they?”

“Elspeth, I don’t think—”

“I know more than you think I do,” I interrupted. “I’m a grown woman with little life experience, but I’m not blind. I can see the way people look at me. Vanora treats me like I’m a mutant, and I know it’s not just because she’s got some twisted genetic claim over you. Delilah said there are good Fae, but it doesn’t seem to matter which one I am—I’m hated for being born anyway.”

“It’s not like that,” he argued.

“It’s exactly like that.” I shook my head, my mood souring. “What are they saying?”

He sighed and lowered his gaze. “A woman who bridges the gap between Fae and Druid has the power to destroy both.”

“I know all of that,” I said with a scowl. “Painfully so.”

“It’s not just prejudice because of what the Chimera are doing to us, Elspeth. It was spoken in a prophecy.”

I made a face. “So?”

“Prophecies might be nonsense in the human world, but they aren’t in the Druid world. When a Druid has a vision, there is always truth in it.”

“So I’m screwed in whatever I do? Thanks for nothing.”

“Elspeth, prophecies aren’t set in stone. What good would it be to see a possible future if it wasn’t meant as a warning?”

If I knew anything about future visions from books and movies, is was that they were rarely that simple in