Page 81 of Of Shadows and Blood

She observes the room before opening the chest at the base of my bed. In the rising light, Jett produces a handful of very plain but breathable garments.

“That will be much more agreeable, I think.”

“I wonder why they were in here?” she asks. Jett and Isadora are new to the castle and thus have little understanding of my ailment or the situation at hand. They never ask, either. I adore them.

“Well, I assume it was due to my absence.”

Jett nods agreeably, batting the shirt and linen pants to get rid of any dust. She hands them to me before continuing her work in unloading the trunk. I quickly disrobe and throw the garments on before running out of the room.

I pause at the door and yell my thanks, which probably sounded garbled with the piece of leather in my mouth that I’ve been using for my hair.

With luck, I make it to the courtyard right when the sun fully begins to rise. Grenn greets me and leads me to a space at the front.

At the front.

“I don’t think I should be up here,” I whisper so as not to disturb the rest of the cess who are already resting, seated with their eyes closed. The morning is peaceful and the sun is slowly trickling over the space. The air is chilled and the dirt floor hard, but I don’t feel cold.

“There is no hierarchy in our practice. Do you see the woman next to you?” Grenn motions to an older cess. She is one of the few who wears their age and part of me wants to know her story, her upbringing, her life. Knowing that they can live nearly as long as a vampyr makes me yearn for her wisdom in some way.

“I just don’t want to disturb anyone,” I reply. “I’m new to this.”

“Are you, though?”

“You tell me.”

Grenn chuckles. “This, routinely, was your spot every morning.”

Of course I am not new to this. I sigh and take my place a few feet from the woman. Her greying blonde hair is stacked on top of her head and her ears are adorned in piercings.

Yully enters the space and begins his lesson. “Easy morning, my friends. Thank you for being here. Our community finds continued gratitude each time you return to this space, to your space.”

My eyes are closed but I peek around. No one else is shifting and moving as much so I try to focus on stillness.

“Today’s intention is breath. Breath is the essence of life and our magic is a product of our life. It runs as a conduit through our bodies and without breath, we cannot wield. We rarely think about it. Rarely think about the action of inhaling and exhaling. I challenge you to let your magic live this morning,” Yully says as he walks around the space. At least, I believe he is walking because my eyelids are closed and his voice is traveling.

He leads us through minutes of breathing exercises. Sometimes we hold at the top, sometimes we take short inhales and exhales. My fingers don’t zap at all and I can’t help but feel frustrated. A small tornado of dirt spins to my right from a younger acolyte whose eyes remain closed. I pause my own practice and look around. A web of red light is wrapped around Yully’s arms like snakes and I blink a few times to take it in. He lets it twine between his fingers and with every exhale I see it brighten.

Grenn’s magic has commanded a cape made of floating leaves to loosely follow him around as he instructs. I try to keep my gaze low but the temptation to see everyone’s powers overtakes me.

Standing, I spin in a circle as the cess of Demis, of Lux, conjure foxes made of smoke, floating arches of pebbles and other beautiful displays of their raw talent. Their focus and intent could be mistaken for simply living and I look at Yully’s smile because he is truly seeing his people, his sect, breathe in his intention.

“This is practice, not perfect,” Yully chants often. Seated once more, I open and close my palms in a way I saw Serene do but nothing happens.

“Damn,” I mutter.

“You’re forgetting the breath part,” the woman next to me says.

Startled, I open my eyes and turn to her. She’s perfectly still and perfectly executing a flower growing in her palm. I close my eyes and inhale, open my palm, and exhale close it.

“No, the other way.” She taps my shoulder and helps to guide my hand open.

“Exhale,” she instructs. I do so.

“Now, inhale deeply and softly tighten.”

My palm flutters and tickles and when I peel my eyes open slightly, there is a pinch of dirt in the center of my creased hand.

“Oh my, thank you,” I manage to say through my happy focus. I spill the dirt from one hand to another and laugh. “I did it!”