Gift of the Gods (Magic Blessed Academy 1)

“Motherfuck. What now?” Merrick muttered, annoyance and apprehension in his voice.

I looked around apprehensively as we drifted under a rock outcropping, entering a large cave.

Well, at least now we knew why we’d had to take the boat. If we’d approached this place on foot, there would’ve been no way for us to access the cave. The only point of entry was the hole the river flowed through.

Slowly, I sank back down onto the seat, looking over at Merrick, who gave me a small nod, his tight expression softening slightly. It seemed to be a nod of approval, or maybe a thank you for helping Trace—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care at that point.

Finally, the boat came to rest at a rocky shore within the cave. The ceiling soared high overhead, and the cave itself was nearly the size of a football stadium—the part I could see anyway. Rock formations rose up from the ground and grew down from the ceiling.

I used my magic to shield Trace’s body as Lachlan created a slab of energy to put him on, laying him gently on his unburned side. For all the magic we had, we still had to lift him carefully up and out, and the sounds of his pain sent anger and sadness rampaging through my chest.

“We need to help him,” I said, trying to hide the growing desperation in my voice. “We need to do something. Those kinds of burns could kill him.”

I didn’t know a ton about first aid or burn wounds, but I knew that having that much scorched skin was a huge shock to the body, and an invitation for infection to set in.

Merrick nodded over toward a flat section of rock near the cave wall. “Set him down there and let me see the bag.”

We had all, in a show of solidarity, put our personal things into the pack we carried with us—the things we’d collected on our own before joining up as a team.

As soon as we had Trace settled, I handed the bag to Merrick. He reached inside, pulling out a satin satchel.

Carefully, he lifted a small vial of blue elixir from the bag. He held it up, looking at the silvery streaks that swirled through it. “I found this before I ran into you guys. None of these fucking potions are labeled, but I think it’s a healing potion. I remember seeing Professor Howes give one to a student who broke her arm in his class last year. It looked just like this.”

I blinked at him, impressed in spite of myself.

Not only that he had a healing potion, but that he was willing to give it to another contestant when

he knew there was a good chance he might need it somewhere along the trip.

Merrick pointed at Trace. “You two get on either side of him. Aria, tilt his head back. I’m going to have to pour it into his mouth and make him swallow.”

Nodding, I hurried over and sat down behind Trace, pulling his head carefully to my lap and tilting his chin up. He groaned. His eyes were open, but his gaze was unfocused, darting over the ceiling of the cave.

Merrick took the stopper out of the vial and whispered something, words I couldn’t make out, into the liquid. It must’ve been an incantation to activate the potion. Potion-making was a skill that only advanced magic users could master, and as far as I knew, they didn’t even offer classes in it at Magic Blessed Academy. But anyone who knew the right words could activate one.

“Trace,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly soft as he spoke to his nearly unconscious friend. There was no swagger or cockiness left in it, just concern and determination. “I’ve got a potion that will help you. I need you to do your best to swallow it, alright? Come on. You can do this.”

Trace’s eyes focused briefly as he gazed at Merrick, and although he barely even nodded, Merrick took it as a yes anyway.

I held the ex-rock star’s head as Merrick poured the liquid between his lips and lifted his chin to close his mouth.

The corded muscles of Trace’s neck worked as he swallowed. Then he let out a long, deep sigh, as if all the pain and agony had suddenly disappeared from his body. I laid his head down on my lap and watched as the other two men stood up and rolled their shoulders, trying to gather themselves.

“Thank you, guys,” I said, my throat tight. “I expected something, but not that. Shit, I didn’t even see that dragon until it was too late.”

“Well, good thing you have a bodyguard.” Trace’s voice rose up from my lap.

I looked down quickly, finding his bright blue eyes staring back at me.

Clear. Alert.

He was getting better, the burn marks on his shoulder and back fading to a bright, shiny pink instead of the angry red, blackened blisters that had been there before. The tattoos on the worst affected parts had been totally burned away—apparently healing spells didn’t regenerate tattoo ink along with flesh—but the skin looked healthy and unbroken.

As I watched, the pink color faded even more, and a surge of relief welled up in me, so strong it nearly bowled me over. “Holy fuck, Trace! How are you—are you okay?”

Merrick walked over, chuckling as he reached his hand down to Trace. “He’ll be fine. Don’t go all fangirl on him. From what I remember, the potion works pretty quickly.”

Trace accepted the hand up, and I had to fight down the urge to grab him and keep him right where he was. A minute ago, he’d been nearly delirious with pain. It seemed too soon for him to be walking around like nothing had happened.