Page 47 of Discovered Magic
“The Traveler, he triggered it?” Draven asked the question on Mary’s mind.
“If he did, it wasn’t on purpose. But it closed immediately, and we had to call in reinforcements to hold it open.”
What reinforcements? Can they do it again? she scribbled, with Wilder looking over her shoulder.
“Your brother, Quentin, and his daughter. You haven’t met them. You didn’t know Castor was your father, either.”
It made sense why there was no familiarity with him like she had with Wilder.
An overwhelming sense of loss struck her and, with it, the need to escape. Her cells fired as they had earlier, and she curled into a ball against the burning sensation.
“She’s attempting to teleport,” Draven said sharply, hurrying to her side.
Wilder waved him away and knelt in front of her. “Fight the urge, Abbie. Stay with me and focus on my voice, sweetheart.”
Part of the urgency to get away eased, but her body refused to cool down.
Mary shrank back as he reached for her. “Don’t touch me!”
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Wilder recoiled at the desperation in Abbie’s voice. For a brief period, she acted normally. Her current desire to run, however, superseded her sanity. Yet he wasn’t unfamiliar with her type of reaction. While training others to climb, they’d encountered it on plenty of occasions. Once the fear gained a foothold, everyone reacted differently. Some refused to budge, and others scrambled back down. But a good portion had learned to power through—all under Abbie’s guidance. Her calm voice and steady presence cut through their panic, breaking it down into manageable steps. In the end, they’d all had a good experience.
“I won’t touch you, but I want you to focus on my voice,” he said soothingly, borrowing from her special brand of training. “We’re going to take this one beat at a time, okay?”
Her gaze, wild with uncertainty, locked with his.
“Good.” He smiled, warm and confident. “Whenever we had a new client, you went through a process. There were a few simple tricks to success.”
A tentative hope shone on her face.
“One handhold, one breath.”
She scowled at the hand he offered, but accepted it anyway.
“Good, Abbie. That’s good.” His smile widened. “Now, one foothold, one breath.”
Her expression eased into a slight frown, and she pressed her boot-clad foot onto his thigh.
“Alternate. Handhold, and breathe. Good. Foothold. That’s my girl.” He beamed with pride as her fear receded and her curiosity emerged. “See? You’ve got this.”
Joining him on the floor, Abbie cradled his face within her palms and looked deeply into his eyes, as if she were trying to find her way back.
“We always promised to catch each other,” he said, regret creeping in. “But I failed you. Both as your climbing partner and with my magic.”
“How did your magic fail?” Draven asked softly.
“A family enemy ripped our powers away. None of us would’ve believed it was possible, but it went down for all of us that day. And along with it, the protection spell on our equipment.” Wilder closed his eyes, hating having to recall any of it, but he would if it helped her remember. “I was a fool to rely on my abilities in such conditions. The weather, Goddess, it was brutal. Before, I’d always been able to keep us warm and redirect the worst of the winds away from us. But it turned bitterly cold. I honestly worried we’d freeze before reaching the summit.”
“Arrogance,” Draven replied, not unkindly. “We all possess it, mon ami.”
“Yes. I suppose we do.” It hurt to swallow past the grief his own had caused. “But when you’re special from birth, you don’t view the world as a dangerous place. You push past what mortals would be wary of.”
“This is true. And Abigail, her faith in you would be unfailin’, oui?”
“Yes,” he said roughly, his voice breaking when he added, “I’m so fucking sorry, Abbie.”
She surprised him when she pressed her mouth to his in a tender kiss. “It’s… oh-kay.”
