Chapter 13: The Scent of Fear

The High Priestess once told me I looked like an angel when I used my magic. Her words were one of the few kind things she’d ever said, and looking back, I wonder if they had fallen from her lips without thought. The magic always felt good, like using it was a blessing from the goddess herself.

A gentle wind blew inside the training area, lifting my hair from my neck and swirling it around my face. It turned crisp and cool, reminding me of the breeze of an autumn day. Golden magic flowed from my fingertips, coating my skin, and transferring over to Evan when I touched his most grievous wound.

Murmurs of shock came and went. I’d heard them all before, so I tuned them out, focusing only on Evan. His kindness, his willingness to train me when no one else would. Tendrils of my magic seeped into his skin, searching for the most serious wounds. It was instinctual and always had been, as if my magic was independent of me and used me only as a vessel.