Page 41 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
On top of my magic that I seem to need to get a hold on, I also need to learn to manage these panic attacks that I fear will keep coming on with new bouts of information.
Swallowing my sudden onslaught of emotions, I quickly clean myself up. I brush my teeth and pad quickly and quietly down the hall to my room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The house is eerily quiet as early morning summer sun streams through the windows.
Finding the kitchen empty, I grab a plump honey crisp apple, slice it, and put the pieces in a bowl. Deciding to take my light breakfast outside, I snag a small glass jar of peanut butter on my way out.
Locane isn’t outside either when I make it to the front lawn. The sun is already shining bright, and the heat of the day is setting in. The humidity of the air at the base of the mountain wraps around me like thick tar, and my clothes immediately stick to my skin.
“Ugh,” I groan to myself in the uncomfortable heat as I sit on a bench in front of a large, gnarled magnolia tree. The thick lower branches dip, the glossy leaves barely grazing the ground. Inhaling deeply, I take in the lemony floral scent from the white blooms. Something about the aroma makes me calm and gives me a sense of home.
As I finish eating and close my eyes, the echo of a memory barely comes to me.
“Yes, eyes closed. Focus on your breathing, in and out. Clear your mind.”
I’m twelve, and I do just that as I dig my fingers into the dirt. After a few quiet moments of focus, the new spool of golden threadthrumming in my belly loosens. I release it, sending a pulse of power through my bloodstream; a shock of energy splinters through me pleasantly.
Pressure builds and builds in infinitesimal fractions of a second that are like my own personal eternity. Just when I think I might burst from the mounting build, needle-sharp ends of those threads break through my fingertips.
My eyes pop open when golden wisps break free in the earth around my hands, growing in energy. A shimmering pulse of electricity is just visible beneath the surface of the ground.
“Magnificent.” A distorted voice drips with pride while Nana claps.
My eyes open again, still sitting under the magnolia tree.
A slow smile creeps across my face. I leap to my feet and start to explore the grounds of the house for the first time, searching for a quiet corner to practice using my second gift. Locane has mentioned thinking I can do more than even I am aware of. He mentioned me having power that no one else does.
Is this electricity what he meant?
I’m flabbergasted at how I’ve not noticed that there are two spools of power resting within me, my Sight right next to a buzzing electricity. It thrums with vibrating energy, begging to be let loose.
Locane told me yesterday that the wards are in a circumference around the property, equaling roughly four acres in every direction, save for the front of the house. He told me that I will meet a barrier if I reach them. Seeing as how there’s almost certainly a King trying to find me, I have no interest in leaving the wards currently.
Wandering around for a bit, I find a stone bridge covered in moss that crosses over a glittering pond, the surface littered withlily pads. The bridge ends at the entrance of a rose garden of every color running wild.
Before long, I find an ideal spot. It’s a small clearing of wildflowers and long grass. At the edge of the clearing there’s a broken tree, only small splinters of rotting wood still connected. I take stock of the other vegetation around, hating the thought of killing a beautiful old tree. After a quick scan, I find there are only smaller common pines, maples, and oaks around.
Perfect.
My fingers hastily peel off my shoes while I sit. After removing my thin socks, I wiggle my toes, digging them deeper into the grass, reveling in the freedom blooming in my being. My energy seems to spike instantaneously with my bare skin connected to the earth, and after this latest precious memory, I know exactly why.
The very earth both feeds my magic and acts as a conduit for my electric currents that strike like lightning from below. I dig my hands in to match the feel of my toes and throw my head back, eyes closed.
My chestnut hair tickles my lower back as blazing warmth gathers on my flesh. The sun bakes my face, charging my reserves that I hadn’t even realized were there. I breathe through my sundrenched haze, drinking in the honeyed air of summer. My power courses through me, joyous and alive—happy that my mind has woken up to its existence.
Fighting with my staff came back to me so quickly and naturally, with very little thought. I can’t help but think that this magic might too.
Shivering in anticipation, my skin pebbles in goose flesh despite the warmth of the day. On another deep lungful, I wonder how I have complained about this heat.
I was made to bask in the sun.
At this moment, I’m so charged and alive and strong. My heart beats free and proud as I soak in this strange and unexpected euphoria that has come from simply tuning in with nature and being myself. I sit unmoving for a long while, my mind eventually clearing with little thought or effort.
Has it been mere minutes, or has it been hours? The concept of time slows—the echoing tick of a clock stilling in the wind.
Digging my hands deeper in the dirt, it makes its way under my fingernails and I relish in the compacted sting. A clear image of the dead and broken tree comes to my mind. I hold the mental image as I loosen my internal threads, pulling on the golden spool in my belly right next to the identical one that holds the power of my Sight.
