The Rise of Fortune and Fury (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 5)

Carrick walks toward us on the porch, but he doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to. I know exactly what’s going on. “She’s just like I was when trying to conjure my powers. Absolutely no confidence.”

Carrick nods. “And as much as I’d love to turn her over to Deandra and let her scare the magic out of her the way she did with you, I can’t trust what might come out of Zora. Her powers are dark, which means they could come out with deadly force that I doubt she could control. We have to coax it out.”

I have to agree with that. While Deandra’s methods were crude, they worked on me because I have the harness of a caring conscience. But with Zora’s upbringing—her lack of knowledge of humanity and empathy—there’s no telling what could come out in a moment of fear or great emotion.

“So what do we do?” I ask, but no one has an exact answer.

“Just keep trying,” Carrick finally says. “I’ll probably push her a little harder.”

This last statement was said only to me, his eyes boring into mine. A warning that I might not like his methods.

I don’t dare ask him to be gentle with her. We can’t afford those things right now, and as much as it pains me for Zora to struggle, I know some tough love might help her break through without pushing her over the edge.

* * *

It’s exhausting work, mostly on Carrick and Zora.

Hours are spent trying to elicit just the tiniest spark of magic out of my sister, and there is some success.

After three breaks where Zora took flights around the island, Carrick finally managed to get her to conjure a croissant—her favorite food since coming to the Earth realm. His praise was immediate and overly effusive, but he spent time talking to her about trusting her abilities. That seemed to give her some confidence.

For an hour, he’d name benign objects and ask her to conjure them. She made the chair that he’d originally requested appear. Butter for her croissant and a knife to spread it with. A bottle of water. And when she had a smile on her face and her shoulders were thrown back in confidence, he asked a little bit more of her.

He carried the chair she’d brought forth into the middle of the yard and said, “Set fire to it.”

There was hesitation. “I’m not sure how.”

“How did you conjure the other things?” Carrick asks.

“Envisioned and desired an end result,” she replies succinctly, like a student reciting text from a book.

“Then do the same,” he suggests.

“Yes,” she says with frustration. “I get the process. But do I just stare at the chair and hope it ignites?”

Carrick doesn’t answer her, but turns to me instead. “Finley… show her what you do.”

This catches me by surprise, because he’s left me out of this completely, which has been fine by me.

Carrick glances back at Zora and explains. “Finley has a flourish with her magic that is meant to be offensive.”

He’s right about that. I step out onto the grass, then move to my sister’s side. “You haven’t seen the movie Frozen yet. I’ll show it to you sometime because it’s amazing, but Elsa has magical powers where she can project ice and snow. She throws her hand out toward her target, and well… I sort of took that on.”

Carrick tips his head with an amused expression. “I never knew you were copying Elsa.”

“And I’m stunned you know who Elsa is,” I quip back before giving my attention to my sister. “Watch me.”

I turn toward the chair with no intention of setting it on fire. That’s Zora’s job, but I do need to demonstrate how to focus and funnel my magic toward something.

Bringing forth the image of Elsa in my mind, I thrust my hand out, palm facing the chair, and I blast it with a stream of ice. Zora actually steps to my side and studies my hand as I’m casting the magic. When the chair is completely frozen, I cut it off.

“It didn’t actually come out of your hand,” she observes, taking it in her own to examine my palm. “It’s like it started out of thin air just a few inches from your hand.”

“Right,” I say. “That ice wasn’t inside of me, only my imagination. I only use my hand to thrust as it helps me focus where I want my magic to go. I’m sure I could just do it with my mind, but it’s sort of become a habit with me now.”

“Okay, let me try that,” Zora says with determination.

I move back to the steps and sit beside Priya. Zora screws up her face in concentration, stares at the chair with laser-like focus, and then thrusts her hand out toward it. The expected jet of fire that would melt the ice around it doesn’t come out.