Page 152 of Emylia

Never.

Was this why?

And what else had she kept from me?

A wave of worthlessness cut off my oxygen. Did she not trust me with this?

Did she not deem me worthy to keep her secret?

Storming from her room, I threw open the front door, not bothering to shut it behind me. With each step I took, the vehemence in my blood surged until my wrath became an unshackled force, unrelenting and unstoppable.

My breath came in ragged huffs, as I ripped the front door to the guest house open. A pair of emerald eyes shot to mine, questions turning into concern as she studied my features.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned, worry creasing her forehead.

Her gaze trailed down to my hand, and I knew she saw sparks at my fingertips. Her eyes widened in shock. My uncle mustn’t have relayed everything that had happened in Ophelia.

“You lied to me.” My voice stayed unnaturally calm as I spat the words at her. “Did you think that Ophelia was just experiencing some freak weather patterns, Mom?”

Taking a graceful step forward, she opened her arms, approaching me cautiously, like I was a wild beast. “What are you talking about?”

In her defense, she kept calm, even as her unstable, loathing daughter visibly raged in front of her, threatening to burn the world to ashes just by existing.

I held up the brooch, my hand shaking. “You’re a magik wielder. Aren’t you?”

A brief moment of realization transpired across her beautiful features before she spoke. “Yes.”

At least she hadn’t denied the truth; I think that would’ve hurt more.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I seethed.

She breathed in deeply as if this was the start to a long explanation. “I wanted to keep you safe.”

I was so sick of hearing those words.

“You keeping me safe turned me into a killer.” Those words seared my soul, leaving a trail of devastation I’d been trying to ignore.

Questions sparked in her emerald eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If I had known I was a magik wielder then maybe I could’ve learnt how to control the magik. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost control when we were attacked! Y—You could have taught me. You could have helped me.” I shouted at her, salty liquid burning my eyes.

Wordlessly, my mother shook her head, and I could see the tears threatening to fall. “Thrainn did not tell me the entire story it seems.” Her words were almost silent. “Emylia, I am devastated for the pain you are going through. If I could keep you from it, I would. Butyou’re nota mage.”

Air punched from my lungs as her words slowly sunk in, quickly followed by confusion. I staggered back a step, breath ragged, hands trembling at my sides.

"Then why did I lose control?" The words tore from me, louder than I meant—sharp, laced with something that tasted too much like fear. "Why does it feel like something ancient is stirring in my blood..." My palm pressed to my chest, as if I could quiet it—still it. "...like the bones beneath my skin belong to someone else?"

A chill rolled through me. Not cold, but old. Familiar in a way that felt wrong. "I can feel it." My voice dropped to a whisper. "An ancestral power." I looked up, found her eyes, desperate for grounding. "Not just mine. Inherited. Buried." I swallowed hard. “And awake."A breath stuttered from me. "And it’s claiming me. Taking control."

She flinched, a breath catching in her throat. Like my words had scared her. Like she’d seen something in me that shouldn’t be there–something waking.“I… I’m not entirely sure.” She stumbled over the words, like my voice had struck somewhere deep. Like she wasn’t afraidforme–she was afraidofme.

“Bullshit,” I raged. “I am your daughter. It makes the most sense. Why wouldn’t I be a mage?”

Something hiccupped in her gaze. “It’s the truth. A mage’s magik comes out as a child, very young. You would have presented much earlier and much differently.” A whispered breath left her.

“Then why can I wield magik?” I was desperate for an explanation now.

When I thought my mother had passed on her genes to me, I was angry she lied to me, but it all finally made sense. Now, I was back to the unknown, and I couldn’t bear not having an explanation. Because what if it was just me, what if I was just a screw up?

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