To Cal’s displeasure, Micah asked that he sleep outside for the duration of their stay at Applewood. Charlotte had provided them a large guest suite in the southeast wing of the mansion, nearly a house all its own with spacious room, closets, a brick fireplace, and a bathroom complete with magical amenities. Cal delivered his bureau onto the balcony, but Micah sent him back out because he couldn’t be sure the Murr would be welcome inside. It seemed a sound precaution.

  Even so, Micah felt guilty when Charlotte presented herself back to him that evening in a lovely new dress, white embroidered with black flowery stitching, and led him to the dining room. It was as richly decorated as the rest of the manor, yet this room had a particular homely feel, full of memory and charm. A large table was set in the middle beneath two candle chandeliers glowing with a hint of purple and red. It was not yet fully dark out, so the room was further brightened by the twilight sun in the west filtering through towering windows.

  Charlotte’s family was already seated when they entered. Allendale and Sophia sat on one side, and Olivia sat on the other, nose-deep in her book. Micah sat next to her, and Charlotte sat on his other side. Sophisticated place settings were put before each of them by a butler possessing an immense gray mustache and wearing a fine suit.

  “It’s wonderful that you could join us, Micah,” Sophia said. Her dreamy eyes pored over him. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, dear. Don’t call me that. Sophia or My Lady, if you please.”

  Charlotte sighed, exasperated. “Just call her Sophia.”

  Her mother acted hurt. “Am I so old?”

  Charlotte relented from reply, but she whispered under her breath, “It couldn’t hurt to act your age once in a while.”

  Allendale cleared his throat. “So, Master Champlain, what news is there from Carnel? Unlike most other countries, the people of Rypsy aren’t nearly as interested in our allies to the west. Word travels slowly, unfortunately.”

  Micah considered his question for a moment. The man looked at him imperiously, as though he expected an answer regardless of Micah’s intention to give it. Without his hat, Allendale was the stateliest man he’d ever seen, raven-black hair slick against his head and eyes sharp as two razors.

  “I’m afraid what news I know is only that which I was told,” he replied as the butler reentered the dining room and began serving onion soup with bread. “Although, as we waited in port before crossing the Strait, I heard an intriguing report – apparently someone was recently able to bypass the security of the Strait and escape.”

  Charlotte coughed violently, turning bright red as she struggled to keep her soup down.

  “Crickets, Charlotte!” Sophia exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

  Charlotte regained control of herself. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin, glancing wide-eyed at Micah.

  “Intriguing, indeed,” Allendale said, seemingly oblivious to Charlotte’s sudden choking outburst. “But I am doubtful it could be true. Carnel’s defenses are too great.”

  “The person who told me was quite convincing,” Micah replied.

  Charlotte sat still in her seat, heart pounding. What on earth is he doing?

  “How do you suppose such a thing occurred?” Allendale asked.

  “My source possessed most of the details. It’s long and complicated, however.”

  “I should very much like to hear it. My lord and superior, Elek Foundring, the Chevron of Astenbury, is what you might call an authority on Carnel’s incredible defense of the Strait of the Final Word. Though most would quietly refer to him as more of an obsessed enthusiast.”

  Micah wrapped his scarf around the lower half of his face, and proceeded to eat his soup, which drew odd looks from Sophia and Olivia, but did not faze Allendale in the slightest.

  “Yes, I am aware of Lord Foundring’s interest in the Strait,” Micah said. “Which is why I brought it up.”

  “Ah,” Allendale said with a knowing smile, the first of any kind Micah had yet witnessed. “You are in the business of information. I should have suspected. You are the new Keeper of the Nightbreaker Charge, are you not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I cannot blame you. Biblio is a wealth of valuable knowledge. Having information to trade to him is then valuable as well.”

  Micah smirked. “Impressive.”

  Charlotte looked to her mother and mouthed a “who?” But she shrugged.

  “Few people even know of Biblio’s existence. I recently traded a horde of knowledge to him in exchange for equal value. It often takes great lengths to obtain such things, such as tracking down a person who has survived the Basin Laforge and seen the Whisperstar with his own eyes.”

  Allendale seemed impressed himself. “So then, you know something of the one who somehow thwarted Carnel’s border security. And you knew it would be valuable to me, because it is valuable to my lord, the Chevron. What information do you seek from me in return?”

  “This afternoon, Charlotte escorted me to your remarkable library before meeting with her mother and sister. I am an avid reader, so I requested access and she obliged. An hour into my perusal, I came across a book in the far corner. Its spine was frayed, and dust had long accumulated around its placement on the shelf, but I recognized it immediately by the unique color.”

  “So you found my copy of the Ocean Tome,” Allendale said.

  “Yes. The various exotic blue shades of its cover could not be mistaken. I once possessed a copy of it myself, but half the pages had long since been ripped free.”

  “Mine is complete,” he said with a superior smile.

  “Almost.”

  This response got even Olivia’s attention. The three women looked at Micah with raised eyebrows. Apparently, they weren’t used to such frank conversations when the lord of the manor was involved.

  “What do you mean, Master Champlain?” Allendale asked in a calculated voice.

  “The Ocean Tome is a collection of spells from Lord Mobius of Orion’s own legendary tome. When the Lord and Queen died, their tomes were hidden away by the royal family. They rightly feared the magical knowledge their parents had accumulated in their lifetimes was too great… too risky to allow in the open for anyone to read. So the new king sealed them away, but not before creating two volumes that included some of the more tame magic. He didn’t want to completely eradicate the breadth of their amazing collection from memory. The resulting books were the Widow Tome and the Ocean Tome. Each consisted of 200 magics, from incantations to summonings to potion recipes.”

  “I am aware of the history of the tomes,” Allendale said.

  “Your copy of the Ocean Tome has 199 pages, sir.”

  Allendale said nothing. They simply stared each other down. The silence was palpable, yet a slight wisp of amusement crept onto Allendale’s lips.

  “According to my research, the last page contained the Heaven’s Star – the greatest healing magic Lord Mobius ever designed,” Micah finished. “The histories tell us he once used it to bring his beloved back from the brink of death. But every known existing copy of the Ocean Tome is missing this last page. And this last page is what I desire. I do not know if you possess it, my Lord, but if you do, I will trade you my information for it.”

  “Deal,” Allendale said quickly.

  Micah smirked again. How interesting. The origins of all of Charlotte’s odd trademark phrases are suddenly clear.

  “Why don’t we trade our information tomorrow after breakfast?” Allendale offered. “We can take a walk in the gardens.”

  Micah nodded.

  At that moment, the butler, along with four others, entered and served them each the main course for the evening. Mounds of spaghetti with meatballs were piled on large dinner plates. Dishes of rolls, fruit, and cheese were placed in the center of the table before the servants took their leave.

  Charlotte smiled, watching with awe as Micah began to eat his dinner. Micah, you are utterly amazing. In less than a day, you got into Daddy’s good graces by appealing to his love of knowledge. Even though you took a risk, you knew what you were doing, and now he trusts you already. And you gained something of value at the same time. You truly are the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. I don’t even know what I was worried about.

  Sophia seemed equally as impressed and charmed by Micah; however, Olivia sniffed in contempt.

  “The Whisperstar is a myth,” she said in the new silence, placing her book aside. “Everyone knows that.”

  “Everyone would be wrong,” Micah replied.

  She gave him a condescending look. “Dr. Marcus Hornsby proved the lie of the Whisperstar was a conspiracy concocted over time by gypsies telling stories.”

  Sophia and Charlotte groaned. Micah simply looked at her. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the set of glass plates containing his specimen of the yellow flower. Olivia’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “My word,” Allendale said, awe lining his breath.

  “It’s fake,” Olivia said quickly.

  Micah parted the two plates for a moment before clapping them back together. The overwhelming citrus scent immediately filled the room, causing Olivia to sneeze. Micah put the plates away and resumed eating.

  “I assume that should remove any doubt.”

  Olivia rubbed her eyes and nose, but she scowled defiantly. “It’s a trick. Dr. Hornsby proved the Whisperstar was fake.”

  “Olivia, be rational,” Allendale said with an admonishing shake of his head.

  “Marcus Hornsby is an idiot,” Micah said flatly.

  Charlotte gasped, and her family looked to Olivia, as if afraid to discover her reaction. Indeed, Micah watched as Olivia’s young face grew wrathful.

  “Dr. Hornsby is a genius!” she cried angrily.

  “He’s an ignorant book peddler, perpetuating lies to the masses by using big words to entertain unproven, ridiculous theories. He clearly hates Carnel, because he can’t use magic and has no understanding of it. So, he uses his standing as a respected author and ‘doctor’ to attack it, blinding people from real truth. His books are garbage – I could find more fact on a blank sheet of paper.”

  Charlotte’s jaw dropped in shock, Sophia covered her mouth, and Allendale looked back and forth from Micah and Olivia, eyebrow raised. Micah continued eating as if he said nothing of real consequence, but Olivia glared at him, her own mouth agape. She was so infuriated by his attack on her hero, she couldn’t speak, instead issuing a cascade of squeaking noises in her search for words.

  “You arrogant jerk!” she finally managed. Her face flushed three shades of red. “You’re just like all the others. You think… you think just because you can use magic that you can lord it over other people! Dr. Hornsby opened my eyes. There’s nothing good about magic. Just look what it’s done to my sister! To our family! Magic is the root of all the problems in this world.”

  “Olive…” Charlotte said sadly.

  “I don’t understand,” Micah said to Olivia. “What about your magic?”

  She scowled. “I don’t have magic.”

  “Incorrect. You have your own magic, as does every person in this room.”

  “No I don’t!” she shouted. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Only Charlotte was born with magic. You think I wouldn’t realize it if I did? You think I wouldn’t know?”

  Silence consumed the hall. Olivia was shaking, chest heaving in anger, but Micah looked at her calmly. He reached to his jacket again, this time producing a small dagger, slim and compact with an ivory handle and a rusted blade.

  “Hold this,” he said to her, offering her the handle of the small weapon.

  “What?” she replied defensively.

  “Take it,” he said.

  She tentatively reached out and took the knife. Blue flames erupted from the metal, igniting in a glowing burst. She shrieked and dropped it. The blade clattered onto the table, and the fire immediately snuffed out.

  “What is the matter with you?” she screamed.

  “It won’t hurt you,” Micah said, retrieving the dagger. “This is a Soul Knife.”

  “I’ve heard of such a thing before,” Allendale said curiously. “But I wasn’t aware they were real.”

  Micah nodded. “Another treasure of mine.” He offered the knife to Charlotte.

  “It won’t hurt?” she asked.

  “Impossible.”

  She took it and held it up. But nothing happened. “Hey, where’s the fire? Did it break?”

  “Hand it to your father,” he said.

  She passed it across the table, and Allendale took it. Blue flames immediately ignited from the blade, intense in color but seemingly harmless. He passed it to his wife, and the flames came out of the blade upon her touch as well.

  “Oh my!” she exclaimed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Hey!” Charlotte cried indignantly. “How come it didn’t work for me?”

  “Because you have the wrong magic,” Micah replied.

  “What do you mean?” Olivia demanded.

  “Everyone with Carnel blood possesses one of three spirits. You and your parents possess the spirit of the clan of men, the clan of the Drifting Queen. Charlotte, on the other hand, possesses the spirit of the Avalon. The Soul Knife only indicates those who possess the spirit of your tribe. Charlotte could never produce fire from the knife.”

  “But… but… weren’t the men of West Carnel the ones who had no magic?”

  “All Carnelians possess magic,” he said with finality. “No exceptions. You have your magic, and Charlotte has hers. They are different but no less distinct.”

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  Olivia scowled again, tears streaming down her face. Pushing her chair back, she got up and rushed out of the room, clutching her book close to her chest.

  “I apologize,” Micah said to her parents after a period of silent eating. “Charlotte is slowly helping me, but I’m afraid I am still not well-versed in tact. It appears I offended her, but that was not my intent.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Micah dear,” Sophia said, handing him back his knife. The butlers entered again, taking away their dinner dishes and subsequently serving bowls of strawberry ice cream. “Olivia has always been a bit envious of her sister. She doesn’t mean to be, but she’s become a tad insufferable when it comes to magic. She’ll read a hundred books if they support Marcus Hornsby and his anti-Carnel positions.”

  “Mother!” Charlotte reprimanded. “Olivia isn’t jealous. She’s a good girl! She’s just sensitive about certain things.”

  “What’s the difference, darling? This is a good thing. Now, Olivia can see we were all born the same.”

  Micah ate his ice cream in silence, unwilling to offend anyone else. But he couldn’t have disagreed with Sophia Goodsteel’s last statement more.

  Later that night, Jasper Flight came to Applewood in a horse-drawn carriage to pick Charlotte up for their previously agreed-upon reunion. Micah reluctantly helped her sneak out his window, since they both reasoned it would be preferable her parents didn’t know she would be somewhere that he wasn’t. She met Jasper at his wagon, and Micah watched after them until the wagon disappeared into the forest.

  He felt incredibly uncomfortable about the situation, and he had let her know it, but she dismissed his warning, informing him that Jasper was a “capable” man. And Micah had promised himself that he would no longer treat Charlotte as an object to guard. They were partners in their journey. Even so, it bothered him greatly that he wouldn’t be nearby in case of danger. Not since he met Charlotte had she been so far away from him. But it was more than that.

  She was with him. With Jasper Flight, a man clearly desirous of her affections. And now they were on a date. No matter what he tried, Micah couldn’t stop thinking about it, and he paced for several hours, unable to sit still. He even considered going out and spying on them, but he didn’t want to chance it. Even though he was sure he could do it without being caught, it just didn’t feel right, and he knew she would have considered it a betrayal. So he stewed in his room. It got to the point where sweat developed, and he became exhausted.

  Eventually, he realized this was accomplishing nothing, but because he had to stay awake until she returned, he tried thinking of other things he could do to distract. At that moment, a small knock came at his door. His first thought was that Charlotte’s absence had been realized somehow. He was already concocting a quick excuse when he opened the door. To his surprise, he found Olivia standing in the hall.

  She was dressed in a nightgown and wore a sleeping cap with furry nubs strongly resembling a cat’s ears. Her face was flushed, a mixture of irritation and discomfort as she looked away.

  “Did you need something?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “Can I talk to you?” she asked in a low voice.

  He didn’t reply, uncertain about what she wanted. After another extended pause, she finally looked up and met his eyes. He saw the hope in them and realized she had no intention of fighting again. He nodded and stepped aside, allowing her entrance. She humbly shuffled in, and he closed the door. She was quick to notice the addition to the room, running a hand over his bureau.

  He sat on his bed, allowing her to take the time she needed to say what she wanted to say. She wandered the room, avoiding his gaze and feigning interest in the room’s other furnishings. Finally, she grew bored of the routine and took a chair from a nearby table to sit across from him. She fidgeted and squirmed, becoming more and more uncertain. Then, she stopped and bowed her head.

  “Do I…” She breathed deep. Her face was very red. “Do I really have magic?” she whispered.

  Again, he didn’t reply right away. She looked up at him, eyes shining with new tears. The vulnerable look, stripped of all pride, washed away his previous perception of her, and he felt sympathetic. Instead of answering, he got up and went to his bureau. Opening the top drawer, he reached deep inside and produced an egg-shaped object from a black box and came back to her. He held it up between two fingers so she could see. The gray stone was perfectly smooth and infused with tiny gems like red diamonds.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “It’s called a Siphon Burn, and it’s the absolute greatest treasure I have ever owned or ever will own. See these red jewels? They’re Blood Stones, cut to identical perfection.”

  “It’s pretty,” she said in awe.

  “Indeed. But it’s much more than a beautiful rock. Among many other things, the Siphon Burn shows its possessor his own soul. But only those with Carnel blood – those who share in Ursa’s ancient covenant with God.”

  She gaped at the gleaming egg with wide eyes. “How does it work?”

  “Cup your hands together.”

  She did as she was told, holding them before her excitedly. He sat on the bed and reached his hand out, hovering the Siphon Burn over them.

  “Don’t be alarmed by what happens…” he said. “And don’t let go. What you are about to see would never happen if someone without magic touched it.”

  He dropped it into her hands.

  A blue fire erupted from her hands, consuming them whole. She gasped, barely checking herself from screaming and leaping out of the chair. But she remembered his order and held steady. The flames charged up her arms to her elbows, combining into a single conflagration with a blinding blue core.

  At first, she was scared, but when she realized the fire wasn’t harming her, she looked up at Micah. “This is incredible!” she said, trembling in excitement. “But why doesn’t it hurt?”

  “I don’t know. Why didn’t it hurt before you touched it?”

  “Huh?”

  “I told you. The Siphon Burn reveals your own spirit. Olivia, the flame you see now isn’t fire at all. It is simply an illumination of what has been burning inside your whole life. This is your magic, your strength, your very soul burning like a wayward star, and it will always be with you.” He put a hand on her head. “Because you are a daughter of Carnel.”

  Her expression plummeted. He gently plucked the Siphon Burn from her hands, and the light died away, leaving her sitting in the chair with opened hands. Tears suddenly sprang from her eyes, and she began to cry. She got up and threw herself onto him, wailing.

  Micah was dumbfounded. He patted her back awkwardly, hoping no one would hear her. If the change in disposition from earlier that evening was confusing, this sudden outburst completely stumped him.

  “Inexplicable,” was all he could say.

  “I always wanted magic,” she cried, burying her face in his chest. “I wanted it so much! So much! I was tormented.”

  “Ah, now I see,” he said.

  She looked up at him with teary eyes, sniffing. “What?”

  “After you left the dinner table, your mother supposed you were jealous of Charlotte. I assume this is the reason behind your sorrow?”

  “No!” she said quickly, parting from him and sitting back in her chair. “That’s not it at all! I love my sister. I could never be jealous of her!” She scowled in frustration, quickly wiping her eyes. “Mother couldn’t have understood.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because I was so useless!” She bunched up her nightgown with her fists. “Charlotte was always in trouble. Bad men came all the time, trying to take her because of her magic. She cried so much, and it hurt because I could never help my big sister. I came to hate magic. All it did was make her cry.”

  “I suppose that’s understandable.”

  “But deep down, what I really wanted was my own magic so I could help her! Maybe I couldn’t help feeling it was unfair Charlotte was the only one born with magic…” she ceded quietly. “But I was never jealous of her! It’s just… Charlotte is a lot like Mother, even though she would never admit it. She’s sort of a…”

  “Scatterbrain?” Micah finished.

  She smiled. “Yes! She’s a complete scatterbrain. Her biggest dream is to be married, and she only ever thinks about boys and clothes and having fun. She never applies herself. Never reads, never trains to hone her magic. And it’s frustrating, because I know that if she had, she would have been much more capable of defending herself. Of course, I don’t blame her. I want to be married one day, too, but I just wish she would try harder.”

  Micah folded his arms, thinking on what Olivia told him. In the silence, doubt clouded her features as she became uncertain again.

  “Um… Mr. Champlain, sir?”

  “You can call me Micah.”

  She nodded. “I believe everything you told me, and I know now that I have my own magic, but…” She lifted up her hands. “How can I use it?”

  Again, instead of answering, Micah went back to his bureau. He put away the Siphon Burn, then delved into a lower shelf. She marveled as he reached so far deep inside, half of his body disappeared before he came back out again. This time, he held something long wrapped in white cloth. He came back and sat on the bed again.

  “As I stated at dinner, everyone with Carnel blood possesses one of three unique spirits,” he said. “The spirit bestowed at birth grants certain abilities, depending on the type. Once, these bloodlines were passed down with certainty. Avalon begat Avalon, men begat men, and Lycanthropes begat their own kind. After Carnel’s three tribes united, however, bloodlines crossed until we all became one blood. But a newborn still receives a single spirit – it’s just impossible to tell which one the child will receive, since there are no more pure bloodlines. Your parents both harness the spirit of the tribe of men, as do you, but Charlotte possesses the spirit of the Avalon.”

  “How come you’re different?” she asked.

  “I am a Vilex, the exception to the rule, if you will. Very rarely, a person is born with all three spirits. Vilex can harness each spirit upon command and even use them in tandem. Very few Vilex are born these days, but they have always been rare, even in the days of the Lord and Queen, who were Vilex themselves.

  “So then, what we call ‘magic’ is only one of three true gifts. The Avalon possess sorcery. The ability to command the spirit through crystals, incantations and other mediums to produce spells and enchantments.”

  He took an Element Stone from his pocket and held it up. A small lick of flame ignited from the tip of the long, emerald crystal. Olivia’s eyes sparkled with delight.

  “Lycanthropes can transform into animals and use emblems,” he continued. “And those born with the spirit of men are granted strength, courage and mastery of weaponry.”

  He reached to his side and drew the handle of his sword. It came away without a blade.

  Olivia’s nose scrunched. “Where’s the rest of it?”

  A slab of thick glass erupted from the crossguard, crackling with sudden heat. She gasped and jerked back, watching in shock as the jagged shard extended four feet into the air.

  “I’ll be frank with you,” he said, lowering the blade. “Perhaps you will consider me foolish, but I speak only the truth. All Carnelians are blessed with magic… the ability to accomplish great things. But in my opinion, the magic of West Carnel is the greatest, and if I was forced to choose just one, the spirit of men is the one I would pick.”

  “R-really?” She reached out and touched the glass. It was warm against her finger. “Why?”

  “Because it’s one thing to have potential, but it’s another to possess the courage to fulfill that potential. God chose men to guard the Avernus Gate for a reason, and it’s for that very reason. Because those of us with this gift are able to accomplish more with less. A wealth of determination is at our fingertips… resolve that can change the world, and has changed the world. Consider the Drifting Queen. It was her Foresight that made her famous and struck fear into the hearts of her enemies, but it was her sword that cut them all down. It was her sword that made the possible a reality.”

  Micah put his sword away and began to unfurl the cloth covering the object in his lap. “You possess this same unrivaled magic, and with it, the potential to accomplish great things.”

  He uncovered the last layer, revealing a simple sword of silver. It featured no trappings or embellishments, and the blade was plain, yet Olivia still found it beautiful, even captivating. There was definitely something special about it.

  “Another of your treasures?” she said. “You certainly have a lot.”

  “One might call me an ardent collector,” he said. “This particular piece fell into my lap by chance, however. A fortunate find I never expected to collect. It’s called a Tunari Blade.”

  “I’ve heard of that… I think.”

  “There used to be two types of swords in Carnel. The Solite and the Tunari. But sword forgers stopped producing the Tunari long ago. No one wanted them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a temporary blade. A person with the Western spirit is destined for one sword in his lifetime. One Solite, to be specific. It becomes their companion, a part of their own body and an extension of their soul. But one was able to forgo taking on a Solite Blade until he, or his master, deemed him worthy of it. And so they acquired a Tunari, which harbors nearly the same power of one’s soul and lasts for three years. And there’s no limit to them, either. A warrior could potentially use a supply of Tunari Blades the rest of his life. But this wasn’t appealing, of course. Naturally, one didn’t prefer a Tunari to a Solite.”

  “That makes sense,” Olivia said, nodding her head. “Plus, it’s kind of plain-looking.”

  “Well, it is now. All swords look this plain when they’re first forged. But once you touch it and make it yours, the sword will respond to your spirit and become something grand.”

  “Make it mine?” She gasped. “You’re giving this to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But… but why? I treated you so poorly today.” She looked down in sadness. “I don’t deserve such a thing.”

  “I didn’t take offense. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to you. Besides, this sword is of no use to me, since I already possess a Solite. I’m on a new mission to help people. You can be my first.”

  She peered at him oddly. “You’re so weird,” she said. “But I like you.”

  Micah sighed. “You know, that’s exactly what Charlotte said to me when we first met. Despite glaring exceptions, you Goodsteels are definitely all alike.”

  Olivia laughed for the first time, a giggle much like Charlotte’s. Micah thought it might even be prettier than her sister’s.

  He offered the matte sword up to her. “Take it.”

  She stopped laughing, and took a big gulp. She tentatively reached out.

  “Remember…” Micah said, making her pause to look up at him. “This weapon of yours may have special abilities unique to yourself, or it may be just a sword and nothing more, as is often the case. But for the next three years, it will be your partner, the sword of your soul. You must trust in it.”

  She squared her shoulders and nodded, then grasped the handle.

  As she held it up, the sword began to change before their eyes. She gasped in awe as the blade melted in her hands like silver butter, elongating and twisting to form something far longer and lighter than the original weapon. The handle grew to be two feet long with a smooth grip perfect in her hands, but the actual blade melted within itself and disappeared. An enormous round pommel grew out of one end, and an even larger metallic sphere materialized on the other end. Blue runes formed on the globe, surrounding a shallow indentation.

  When it seemed to finish its transformation, Olivia held it up in the light. “I-I don’t understand,” she whispered with both awe and confusion. “This doesn’t look anything like a sword, Micah.”

  She was right. In fact, the object she held in her hands was the oddest-looking thing he’d ever seen in his life. It looked more like a dumbbell with two different-sized spheres on each end of a long bar. Even so, he felt something… something powerful. The moment it finished forming, he could feel the strength of her sword, emanating from its very core.

  This girl… she can be great one day.

  As she twisted it around to closer examine it, Micah noticed a slot at the very top of the object. “Look there,” he said.

  She looked. “Oh, yeah! What is that?” She pressed it against her face to see inside.

  Micah rolled his eyes and quickly pushed her head away from the opening. “Let’s be a bit more cautious.”

  “Why? Is there someth—”

  At that moment, a thick blade erupted from the slot, extending out three feet with a wicked, ringing slice and just missing her face. The lustrous flat was slender, near white in its glow. Etchings were carved into the metal, blue runes similar to the ones on the spherical crossguard.

  “That’s why.”

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. “I see! It brings out the sword through there! But I still don’t understand. How can this long sword come out of that little opening? Where did it come from? It can’t be in the handle. It’s much too thin.”

  “Magic,” he replied.

  She held her breath, hugging her weapon close to her body as if it were a teddy bear. Tears pooled in her eyes again, but she smiled this time and nodded.

  “Thank you, Micah… so much. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

  “What will you call your new sword?” he asked.

  She thought about it for a moment. “Awakening,” she answered. “Because my eyes were opened.”

  “Inspiring.”

  “I can’t believe this!” she suddenly squealed, jumping to her feet. “I have magic!” She clumsily jabbed her weapon through the air a few times.

  He frowned. “You’re going to need to start training.”

  “I plan on it! I know we have a few books on swordplay… and I can get more. Plus, Father has some expertise. I can’t wait to start! I think I’ll start reading tonight.”

  He frowned deeper. “You need a master, is what I meant. I’m going to write to an acquaintance in Carnel, who complained to me recently about needing a student worthy of his skill. Once he comes, you will become a proper apprentice. He’s tough and unrelenting, but supremely capable of molding your talent into something valuable.”

  He stood, and she did likewise, still hugging her sword.

  “Until he comes, I would advise that you hide your weapon away and not use it until you’re under proper instruction.” He walked her to the door and opened it. She stepped out. “And my suggestion would be to refrain from telling your parents about any of this until he arrives. He will better be able to explain the matter to them.”

  “Who is he?” she asked. “And how will I know it’s him?”

  “He’s the second best swordmaster in Carnel. You’ll know the moment he shows up at your doorstep.”

  “Who is the first best?”

  “You’re looking at him.”

  She smiled.

  “Well, goodnight, Olivia Goodsteel. I am glad we are better acquainted.”

  With that, he closed the door, leaving her in a flurry of amazement and wonder. As she shuffled down the hall and returned to her bedroom, she found herself so wrapped up in the events of the day, she couldn’t even fathom sleeping. Not just because she possessed the dormant magic she always secretly dreamed she could have, but because of the man who showed it to her.

  Micah sinChamplain.

  All day, her sister couldn’t stop talking about him. And now, she knew why.

  *       *       *

  Allendale paced and paced.

  Alone with his thoughts, the man cut hazardous paths around his study, unable to sit, unable to stand. He was a smart man. A genius, if the Chevron was to be taken seriously, which he always was. And because he was smart, he quickly deduced Charlotte was not on holiday. Not just because she was a bad liar, but because no governor of Carnel would send a Black Son out of the country. Not in a thousand years would they allow such a valuable asset to venture beyond the border.

  So then, his daughter had returned from Carnel and under the protection of Carnel’s strongest soldier… but why?

  In the dark room, full of books and thick burgundy drapes but just a few candles, the shadows seemed to surround him, a blanket of doubt and accusation. It pressed on him, constricting his thoughts into a tiny space that pounded on his temples.

  He quickly went to his writing desk, making a decision. Sweat accumulated on his face as he produced some paper and began to write a letter. Swiftly, before he could change his mind. He had to know the reason this was happening, and only one man would be able to tell him.

  In minutes, the letter was finished. Enclosing it in an envelope, he sealed it and opened the nearest window, holding it out as if to let the wind take it. Within moments, a hawk flew down from a roost in the trees and snatched the letter from his hand. It then pumped its wings and took to the skies, heading west toward Carnel.

  Allendale watched it go, lungs pumping for air, heart pounding. When the bird disappeared in the darkness, he closed the window, knowing it was too late to change his mind. It was gone, and he would soon have it in his hands. All he could do now was wait. Wait, and hope for some logical answer.

  He snuffed the candles out, leaving shafts of moonlight to stream through the windowpanes. The tendrils of smoke drifted through the glim like the hands of a Reaper, ready to snatch him at any moment. He quickly retreated, eager to go to bed and put this matter out of mind. Exiting the study’s only door, he shut it behind him. For several moments, the room remained still and quiet. In the emptiness, the smoke lingered, creating a faint cloud slowly rising to the tall ceiling.

  Then, the shadows moved.

  A figure in black stepped out from the shallowest of corners, an inky presence hidden from sight and all other senses. Slowly approaching the window, he stopped just short of the light, looking over the desk with interest. For hours, he had observed Allendale pace. He had seen him write the letter. And he had seen him flee his own study, as if the man had instinctively known his every action was being watched.