Page 64 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
My chest seized as the realization hit. She didn’t know. Typical. Lumerians from Ka Scholar rarely left the Harbor and sanctuary of their texts. They spent so much time in the past that current events reached them in a delayed manner.
“Thank you, Nabula.” My voice was stilted, not yet sure how to form the words to tell her the truth—that I hadn’t chosen this, not willingly.
She reached overhead, pulling a long golden lamp from a cluttered shelf. An amethyst nearly the size of my head dangled from the hook of the lamp rod, its multifaceted edges catching tiny glimmers of light from the doorway behind me.
Smiling proudly, Nabula handed the lamp to me. Its weight was heavy in my hands. I watched the amethyst swing from side to side as I steadied my hold.
“Are you ready to light the crystal for the first time?” Magically lit amethysts were the only source of light inside the pyramids. Fire was strictly forbidden near the scrolls.
Nabula had been lighting my lamp for years, and we’d often talked about the day I’d have my own magic and could light it myself.
But I couldn’t. My heart sank as I handed the lamp back to Nabula. Her small hands closed around the golden rod as her dark eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.
“That’s why I’m here,” I said, voice quiet with shame I could no longer conceal.
Nabula’s face fell. “I don’t understand, your grace.”
“I didn’t manifest any magic.” I watched sadly as her mouth fell open. “None at all.”
“Your grace!” Nabula’s eyes widened, but she had enough sense to close her mouth. “But…such a thing is not possible.” She shook her head and straightened, her entire expression returning to one of neutral formality. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend.”
I waved her off. “It’s all right. I’m hoping I might find answers as to why this happened. And quickly. I must return to the Soturion Academy tonight.”
“Yes, your grace, I’ll pull some titles for you.”
I nodded, swallowing. “Would you?” I gestured to the lamp.
Nabula lowered the base of the rod to the floor, causing the giant amethyst to swing precariously above her head. Her eyes closed, and she waved her right hand in a sweeping motion three times before repeating the gesture over the stone, whispering the spell for light. A luminescent light swelled within the base of the purple crystal. At first it was a tiny ball coiled tightly before it unraveled, snaking its way through the amethyst with light shining out in purple rays so bright, Nabula’s dress turned lavender.
“Follow me.” Nabula returned the lamp.
My fingers tightened around the rod as I pushed away my grief. It was just a lamp! I took a deep breath and walked behind her.
Nabula pulled a thin scroll from the cuff around her biceps and unraveled the parchment. Her eyes raced across the script until she brightened. “I know where to begin the search.” We turned down a dark corridor lit by small floating crystals before climbing up two flights of stairs.
She left me in the center of the pyramid beneath an opening to the ceiling that revealed the pyramid rising to a point just over my head. A glowing amethyst shaped into the seven-pointed Valalumir hung from the peak. Purple Valalumirs had been painted onto the golden walls along with the sigil for Ka Scholar, a white scroll rolled before a glowing golden pyramid.
I sat at a table surrounded by golden walkways and shelves, inserted the rod of my lamp through a hole carved into the wood, and waited. Within minutes, Nabula returned and laid several scrolls across my desk. Quickly, she conjured scroll-stops on either side before they rolled onto the floor, and then she left me to my reading.
I unraveled the first scroll.
The History of Birth Bindsby Vora Mazda of Ka Scholar. I rolled the yellowing parchment over until chapter one lay flat before me.
When in Lumeria Matavia such things as the Birth Bind were unconsidered and not yet conceived, for it was some two hundred years after the Drowning that the need for such measures arose. Our ancestors were blessed with more powerful magic than now, gifts from the Gods, or as the Scholars now believe, a result of the magic within the earth of Lumeria, a deeper magic now found in, or perhaps having leaked from, the waters that conceal it. It was common for Lumerians in the motherland to see visions with ease, connect to another mentally and communicate, as well as travel by disappearing and reappearing at will. Such magic was common, comfortable to use, and most importantly, well respected and easily regulated, making it difficult to abuse.
I rerolled the scroll, angrily shoving it aside. I’d read this before when Meera’s visions began. It called for the Birth Bind to sniff out those with vorakh powers. Usually, vorakh powers had a tendency to burst out of a Lumerian in their first show of magic, so Birth Binds caught many—including Jules. But not always. Some vorakh strengthened over the first year a Lumerian was unbound. Otherwise, no one would survive the Revelation Ceremony…and Tristan wouldn’t have become the hunter he was.
Rummaging through Nabula’s selections, I found I’d previously read and taken notes on many of the scrolls before, from beginning to end, all of them connected to vorakh and the initial shows of magic power.
A shadow, tinged in purple, loomed over my desk.
“How was your stay in Shadow Stronghold?” Ramia glided toward me wearing a silky black dress. It wrapped around one shoulder and hugged every one of her curves. She dropped into the seat opposite me, fixing the bracelets adorning her arms. Her long red hair had been tied into a thick braid that fell over her shoulder into her lap. “Ironic, no? I worried I’d be thrown in, and yet, it was you. Though, not for ancient artifact theft.” She winked. Right. I’d nearly forgotten the other crime I’d committed that day and the favor I’d promised a half-Afeyan.
I swallowed. “I take it you’ve been keeping up with current events?” I’d wondered, based on Nabula’s reaction, if anyone on Scholar’s Harbor knew what had happened to me.
Ramia laughed. “Past, current, future.” She lifted an eyebrow, her gaze pointed at a Scholar hunched over a scroll. “They expel me from library to say so, but there’s more to life than inside scrolls.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I need to start somewhere.”
