Page 90 of Cerulean Truth
At one point last week, James thought it would be a brilliant idea to give me a gravity check from the Spring Palace's roof, hoping my panic would magically summon a rope or ladder. There I was, casually hanging around, attempting to summon a ladder with all the dramatic flair of a B-list wizard. Surprise, surprise, no majestic lifesaving object in sight—just me, swaying from the roof like a demented birdcage caught in a tornado. Eventually, my less-than-patient hero swooped in reluctantly and rescued me from plumping to my death (though not from dying of humiliation).
I couldn't help but sigh in relief, knowing I would at least stay on lower ground this time.
After two hours of grueling physical training, he translated us some water bottles and healthy snacks that tasted like they’d been eaten once before.
Without a moment’s rest, he conjured up his cerulean haze and portaled us out of the Scola and into Oasis.
I cursed my own clumsiness as I awkwardly stumbled through the portal at the edge of the Third Layer. Despite my less-than-graceful entrance, the sight still managed to overwhelm me with its stunning beauty. As we walked from the edge of the river to a more secluded area, the air seemed to buzz with the gossip of rustling palm fronds. The water, clear asa mirror rippled softly, reflecting the blue sky and golden sand. Lush green plants covered the landscape and colorful flowers popped up everywhere, as if they were competing in some sort of floral fashion show. As I looked up, I noticed the ever-present exotic birds, flying gracefully above, probably laughing at my lack of coordination. And I would’ve thoroughly enjoyed it all, if it hadn’t been for mister Killjoy Walker.
“Can you please stop with the inane birdwatching and focus on translating?” James’s impatience had reached new heights within seconds of our arrival.Lucky me.
“Oh well, I’m sorry my lack of magic is causingyouso much discomfort,” I retorted.
James rolled his eyes at me. “I’m only saying, we’ve been at this for weeks without any progression. By now, you should at least be able to summon an emotion on cue. What’s holding you back?”
“Nothing,” I snapped.
James rubbed his forehead. “Gods, you’re annoying,” he muttered.
What?
“If I’m so annoying,” I asked, attempting not to be offended, “why do you still bother to train me at all? Why not just hand me over to someone else? Maybe someone with a sense of humor? Ever heard of that?”
“Because I’m the only one who can teach you quickly enough,” he growled, ignoring my jab. “You need to learn to protect yourself, especially considering the attack on your life six weeks ago. Pretty key to yoursurvival, ever heard ofthat?”
I snorted. "So, what, you care about me now?"
James raised a brow, a faint, smug smile beginning to appear. “Do you want me to care?”
“No,” I replied a little too quickly.
His almost-smile vanished and his scowl returned with a vengeance. “Don’t flatter yourself. I care about keeping your untraceable translation under wraps and making sure this Great Exposure happens as planned.”
Of course he did.
“Now get to it. Focus on anything you feel.”
I yearned to translate. Truly, I did. All I needed to do, was to feel, anything. But as I stood there, all I could muster was a desire to feel nothing at all.
James's voice echoed in my ears. "Come on, Emma, you've got to summon that emotion. Let it fuel your power." His words felt like distant echoes in the cavern of my mind, reverberating against walls of numbness I had built so meticulously.
I really tried to reach for the emotions he spoke of, to grasp at them like elusive ghosts flitting just beyond my fingertips. But every time I dared to come close, the memories flooded back with full force, threatening to engulf me in their suffocating embrace.
The trauma of being uprooted, torn from everything familiar and thrust into this strange, hostile world of Cyclos, where every corner seemed to hold a new threat. The darkness of the incident in the bathroom of that pub which started it all. My car-accident… And above all, the relentless weight of failure pressing down on me like a leaden shroud, a constant reminder of my own inadequacy.
It was too much to let any of it in.
It felt like I had taken every conceivable pain, both hypothetical and real, and buried it in a deep abyss, covered only by a fragile glass shield that I would have to shatter with my bare fists to reach any real emotion.
I closed my eyes, hoping to find some semblance of control in the darkness behind my lids. But instead of peace, my mindbecame a battlefield, the sound of James’s commands drowned out by the cacophony of memories clamoring for attention.
Amongst them, I felt the pull of that fateful night, the night I was snatched from the reception and forced into my newest nightmare. I could almost smell the dank earth beneath me, feel the rough bark of the tree against my back, helpless and vulnerable as I was, the sensation of blood leaving my body like water bursting through a dam, unstoppable and relentless.
NO!
I could feel my mind fighting against reliving that specific memory. So I clenched my fists, willing my emotions to stay buried beneath that glass shield, to remain locked away where they couldn't hurt me.
As I struggled to contain the turmoil raging within me, I could sense James's growing impatience. His voice, like usual, carried an edge of frustration as he watched me failing to summon basic emotion.
