Just as in the smaller villages they had passed on the way to Attalea, the locals exited their homes as Alara and her caravan rolled in to the center of the main square. The town was by far the biggest they had passed, with numerous houses and farms scattered around the small shops that stood at its heart. Alara noted that many of the stone buildings were less worn here, the cracks between stones still clean and free of moss. There was a small fountain in the middle of the square that looked much older than any of the other buildings, the central feature long since broken away, water bubbling from the cracked stone pedestal in the middle.

Children laughed as they jumped around the legs of the l’lamagas, both shocked and ecstatic at the size of them. But the adults in the village looked more worn and tired than Alara had seen before. Had they been dealing with recent raids from the bruyas?

The councilguard soldiers dismounted and started handing out the last of the food they had taken with them to donate. The few mages sent out swirls of water dancing through the air around the children, who whooped and chased after the orbs and ribbons. Alara watched appreciatively, and a part of her ached to use her magia in such a way to make the children smile so genuinely.

As Alara watched, she caught the eye of an older man who was standing on the edge of the group. His face was worn and creased deeply with wrinkles, skin a dark brown from the sun and hair a pale white. He looked at Alara with sharp dark eyes—the irises almost black. She shifted on her l’lamaga and tried to look away from him, but something in his gaze made her pause. He stepped forward and for a second, Alara wondered if he would come speak with her, but by then, Emaru was already off her mount and had stepped between them, whispering in his ear. The two of them walked off away from the crowd of people that watched the mages perform.

Briefly forgotten, Alara dismounted and wandered into the shade of the tallest building in the square. It was a small worship hall set along the northern edge and one of the few buildings in a sad state, with moss growing where the edges of large stones met. She pulled back the wool blanket that covered the door and glanced into the small room. The benches were set up to hold likely no more than forty people and were slanted toward an altar that stood at the front. It smelled of damp soil and stone inside, and the floors were muddy and worn. It was nothing like the worship hall in the Haven with its crystal and bronze decorations and perfectly swept floors. It looked more like an abandoned building than a center for worship, and she had to wonder what El’dyo would think of it.

She heard Emaru call her name and quickly stepped back into the square, temporarily blinded by the bright sun upon exiting the dark building.

“There is no Khuno here.” Emaru’s voice was sharp with frustration. “And they haven’t heard anything from a Quenti or seen a girl wandering around alone.”

All eyes fell on Alara now and she felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her mind blank and buzzing. “I…”

“It looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Emaru said, her lips somehow pursed in disappointment as she spoke. “We’ll just have to sweep the forest, with the assumption she’ll have followed the road or the river. If she was even headed this direction. Alara?”

Her heart beat in chest and she felt the heat in the air pressing down on her, the effect making her lightheaded.

“I…I need some space.” She took a deep breath and looked back at Emaru whose face was still pinched in frustration. “If I separate myself from everyone, perhaps I can concentrate better.”

Emaru seemed satisfied. With a few sharp directions to the councilguards, they mounted their l’lamagas and rode back toward the northeast end of the village where they had entered from. As Ardo hopped on his own mount, he turned briefly and gave Alara a tight smile before following the rest of the guards.

Magite and guardian were left alone. The villagers had dispersed again, the children bored of the visitors now that the magia had stopped, and the parents had returned to their work for the day.

Alara realized that Emaru was waiting on her for the first move, so she finally took a tentative step toward the southern end of the square. The buildings seemed to drop off in that direction and she wanted some space to think away from the town.

They found a small clearing not too far off, and Alara sat, her scarf folded beneath her. Emaru took her own place, sitting crosslegged in front of the young magite.

“Close your eyes and breathe.”

Alara followed the directions, her heart already starting to race. This was it—her last chance to prove she could make it at the Haven—and she had no idea if she could do it.

“Focus on finding your magia. Feel where it sits and take hold of it. It’s okay to fear the magia, to recognize the power and dangers. But you must use your fear to control it. Bend the magia to your will and don’t let it overpower you. Fight it for control.”

Alara’s mind flashed back to her early lessons when she first arrived at the Haven, Emaru’s voice softly walking her through these exercises. Each time, she’d follow the directions, try to fight the magia, and every time the magia won. The heat would overpower her, burning her from the inside out, and she’d end up locking it back away, feeling hopeless.

She tried to push these thoughts from her mind and grabbed at the threads of energy swirling hot in her chest. Emaru’s own core oscillated beside her. She stretched her mind out around her, searching for the familiar prickle. For just a brief moment, she thought she felt something. A small thread of magia—too small to be the mages in their group.

Alara tried to focus her mind on the spot, pushing all her awareness toward it. Though just as her mind started to settle, a wave of sharp heat hit her, and her concentration faltered. She gasped out loud, but tried to keep a tight rein on her magia, feeling the sweat trickle down her forehead.

But no matter how much she tugged at it, the heat kept rising in her body. The flames licked at her skin—flames she knew only existed in her mind—but she flinched away all the same. Her heartbeat was hard and fast in her chest and the blood rushed through her ears, blocking out the sound of Emaru’s voice trying to sooth and direct her. She heard a woman’s scream sharp in her ear and then the cries of a dozen more—men, women, children. She was no longer in the clearing, but surrounded by bright red searing heat.

Suddenly, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder and Alara’s eyes opened wildly, she whipped around, trying to understand where the screaming was coming from. But it dissipated in an instant and the clearing was silent, save for her own breathing and Emaru’s soft voice.

“Alara, you’re letting your magia control you instead of the other way around. You are its master.”

Her hand released Alara’s shoulder, but she could still feel the heat where it had sat.

“Try again.”

“Can I take a break?” Alara jumped up from the ground before Emaru could argue.

“Of course. Why don’t we take a walk.”

“No,” her voice was sharp, sharper than it had ever been with Emaru. “I mean I need a break…from you.”

She tried to ignore the look of shock and hurt that flashed over Emaru’s face. Still, the councilwoman nodded and Alara quickly left the clearing, taking long strides to dodge the thick layer of trees. She tried to focus on the coolness of the shade on her skin as she lost herself in the forest. She knew generally that she was headed away from the town, but wasn’t paying close attention. She’d find her way back eventually; she just needed to get away from everyone.

Her quick strides finally slowed down as her heartbeat returned to normal. The humidity in the air stuck to her skin and dripped down her face, but she relished in how cool it made the breeze feel. Looking around, the forest started to thin and she kept moving forward.

As she broke out of the woods, she slumped onto the ground in the shade of a particularly large tree. She ran a hand through her knotted hair, pulling it away from her sweaty skin. She knew she was going to have to go back to Emaru eventually. She was going to have to find Quenti or admit defeat. But what did that even mean? A life lived in the slums on the outskirts of the Haven? What other choice did she have?

You could run. A voice whispered inside her mind.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away before it had time to form. There was no one for her to run to. At least living as an outcast in the Haven, she’d still have family, friends, and familiarity. So long as those people were willing to associate with a failed magite.

“El’dyo, give me strength.” Alara whispered. She didn’t often talk directly to El’dyo, having never been particularly pious, but it felt as good a time as any. The breeze hit her damp skin again and she felt a cold wave of resolve hit her. She pulled herself up from the ground and brushed the loose mud from her skirts.

Taking a deep breath through clenched teeth, she closed her eyes and sent out her awareness. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest, but she ignored the steady rhythm and focused instead outside of her body. The plan was to reach out to Emaru. Just far enough to show she could do it. But before she even made it out of the clearing, something else tugged at Alara’s awareness. Her focus faltered for a second and she felt her core flare with a desire to reach out.

She stumbled forward, shuddering at the feel of her magia. Even as she let go of her hold, she could feel the heat of something in the back of her mind. It wasn’t a human—it wasn’t big enough. But it was a spark of magia. Alara took a deep breath, emptying her mind and letting her core cool. She looked around the clearing. It wasn’t large, just a small break in the forest centered around an outcrop of rocks. She looked up at the tower of stone that hovered a few yards away and a small shiver crept up her spine. Something about the place felt familiar. It was like a strange sense of déjà vu or foreboding.

Walking forward, she touched one of the larger stones that sat at the base of the rock tower; it felt rough and cold under her hand. Without quite knowing why, she knew where to look. She found herself crouching along the stones, examining the base where the rocks met the wet soil underneath. There was a small gap between two of the larger stones, forming a small cave the size of a guinea pig. As a cloud passed across the sun, the light in the clearing flicked off and on again and she saw a glint in the small hole.

Alara’s eyebrows furrowed deeply as she reached in and grasped the white handle of a dagger. Her skin scraped across the stone as she pulled it out, drawing a small bead of blood along her knuckle. A few pieces of rotted wool were stuck to the blade’s handle and she saw more remnants of the cloth in the small crevice of stone. She turned the dagger over in her hand, careful to not touch the sharp blade. The sun glinted off of the bronze blade as she turned it. It was cleaner than she expected, given that she had just pulled it from the mud and she ran a finger across the handle, noticing some carvings in the alabaster.

A sharp snapping of a branch caught her attention and her head shot up, the blade now raised in front of her. She let out a small gasping giggle as movement caught her eye and a large monkey swept across the canopy above her. She slipped the blade under her belt and move back toward where she had come from. The sense of familiarity still pressed in on her and she caught the faint whiff of smoke. Was there someone living out here?

She moved forward, veering slightly to the right of where she had left Emaru, noticing with a smirk that she was now following behind the brown monkey that swung above her. Perhaps he knew were they were going.

Before long, she found herself in another clearing. This one much bigger than the last, and she could almost see the edge of the village from here. The remains of some house sat in the center of the clearing, moss and trees weaving through the scattered stones. These weren’t fresh ruins and yet she felt like she could still smell the acidic sharp scent of burnt wood and something else—sickeningly savory. Burnt flesh.

Alara stumbled away, running as best as she could through the thick trees and undergrowth, tripping over the roots and ignoring the sting of branches whipping at her face. She didn’t pay attention to where she was headed, until the smell finally disappeared from the air, and she felt like she could breathe again. Looking around, Alara realized she should have made it back to the village by now…if she had been headed in the right direction. But she had clearly turned around at some point. The forest was thick here and the sun was blocked out by the dancing canopy high above her. Even the monkey had swung off somewhere and left her alone. She was lost.

She turned to her left and walked a few yards, thinking the clearing had to be this way somewhere. Then she stopped and wondered if it was better to head back the way she had come and try again. But she didn’t want to stumble back into the second clearing, the memory of the fleshy scent still fresh in her mind.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Damn Emaru for always being right. She gritted her teeth and reached for the threads of her magia, grasping them lightly and sending them spreading out around her, searching for Emaru. It took almost a minute, but she finally felt the familiar tingle at the back of her mind. She had met someone’s energy. But it took less than a second to realize that it wasn’t Emaru, and another second to realize she still recognized who it was.

Her eyes flew open and she looked sharply to her right.

Quenti was here.