Page 82 of Pawns of Fate
“What?”
Lysander strode over to a bookshelf. “I’m not going to bore you with that old story.” He selected a thick book bound with green leather. The titleA History of Aural Magicwas written in a flowing, gold script on the cover.
Rose gasped; that was an excessively rare tome. She’d only seen one other copy in her life, and the owner hadn’t let her read it as she’d been quite young at the time.
“Where did you get that?”
Lysander snorted. “I stole it, silly.” He flipped through the pages and showed her a section titledSoothing Auras.“Read this,” he commanded.
Viscount Robson (Year 1178 - 1261) had an exceptionally strong connection to the aural plane, where the life force of all creatures resides. He wasn’t born with this ability; rather, he acquired it after saving the life of a fairy. Scholars debate the exact nature of this fairy—most believe that it was an elemental spirit or minor seasonal deity.
When Robson used this magic, his life force—aura— would appear on the physical plane of existence as a hazy pink glow. He and many of his descendants had pink hair as a result.
He could permanently increase the mana flow of those he was in close contact with, but used this power infrequently, claiming that it was draining and tested the natural order of things.
Several scholars tried to make sense of his descriptions of this process and how it connected to the aural plane. Success was limited.
Lysander snapped the book shut. “See? You just need a stronger tether to the aural plane. Maybe some tenacity.”
Rose stared at him blankly. Two paragraphs about her ancestor’s connection to the aural plane weren’t quite a recipe for success. But she thought of Nicholas and the shadows that still twisted around Lysander’s feet and decided to make do.
“Give me your hands,” she said meekly.
Lysander happily obliged, removing his gloves and thrusting his hands into Rose’s. She was unsurprised to see that his hands were covered in spell runes, a few of which seemed to dance in time with the shadows at his feet.
Rose closed her eyes and tried to tether to the aural plane, but it was difficult. Fear blocked her, and she couldn’t simply push it aside, couldn’t calm her senses as she sat here, holdingthe hands of this madman.
Minutes ticked by, and finally, finally, she managed to tether to the aural plane. But it was hazy at best. And Lysander’s terrifying aura, malevolent as the day she’d seen it in Onanish, clouded her senses. Every instinct screamed at her to run away, but she willed her aura toward his.
“That’s interesting!” Lysander seemed pleased. “Like I drank a refreshing glass of water.”
Rose tried to push harder, but her senses completely untethered from the aural plane instead.
“That’s enough for today,” Lysander pulled his hands back and replaced his gloves. “We’ll practice more tomorrow. For now, you’ll eat and recover. I need to prepare a few things.”
Rose certainly hadn’t increased Lysander’s mana flow. She’d barely even used her soothing aura on him, but he seemed content with this small progress, so she decided to play along. Perhaps she could continue to make small amounts of ‘progress’ with him each day, though Rose didn’t see much point in buying time. Wherever Lysander had spirited them away to, she was certain it would be difficult, if not impossible, for any rescuers to find. Playing along with the crazed man only prolonged the inevitable. When Lysander realized she couldn’t do what he wanted, he’d dispose of her and Nicholas. Fear wrapped its burning claws around her lungs and throat as she realized they were well and truly doomed.
Some time later—Rose imagined it to be the next day, but had no method of discerning the passage of time—Lysander returned and led Rose to the strange workshop behind the crystal pillars. Once again, he sat her down in a rickety chair, grasped her hands, and demanded she use her aural magic. And once again, Rose had limited success, barely tethering to the aural plane, though the connection was a little stronger than the day before. Her fear was beginning to give way to resignation, which was an easier emotion for her to work around.
When she finished, Lysander merely let out a huff, then scrawled something in a notebook that Rose imagined was a real page-turner for horror fans. She wanted to throw it into a fire.
“Now, it’s my turn to use a spell on you,” Lysander said with a purr.
Rose shook her head, but shadows erupted from his cloak and pinned her arm onto his desk.
“Don’t struggle,” Lysander commanded, his expression bored. He traced a few circles onto her forearm and spoke in an ancient language. A pink spell circle appeared on her arm with an evil eye at its center.
“I can’t actuate spells!” Rose felt like she would be better off yelling at the wall; fear and despair scraped their way through her body, but Lysander barely raised an eyebrow in response.
“That’s not true. You’ve just never tried. This spell will let you see the mana stored in the crystals around us. I think that’s the key, what your ancestor could see because of the fairy. When you access the aural plane, you can’t see pure mana, right?”
“Pure mana isn’t alive, so no.”
“What a limited understanding of magic,” Lysander said with a sigh, as if he pitied her. “Mana and life force are two sides of the same coin. When you make that connection, you’ll be able to manipulate mana flow however you want.”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t even manipulate auras that well.”
Lysander threw his hands in the air in a show of annoyance. “Have a little more confidence.”
