Just after sunrise, Alara found herself on a l’lamaga headed out through the south gate of the Haven, surrounded by a small band of councilguard soldiers. The morning air was still cool and crisp, but the cloudless sky fortold of the coming heat for the day.

Emaru led the group, her caramel l’lamaga at the front of the line as she directed them toward Via Sura. Alara was more than a little happy when she arrived at the gates that morning to see that Ardo’s squad would be going with them as well. He now rode beside her, their l’lamagas a matching off-white.

Alara was silent as they made their way south from Cielo and the Haven. Her nerves were on edge and her thoughts racing with all the things that could go wrong on the trip. She’d been on missions before, but now she wasn’t a part of a magite team or class. This mission wasn’t going to depend on group effort. The entire course of this trip—and Quenti’s future—rested on Alara’s powers to lead them in the right direction.

She looked around at the team that had been assembled to bring Quenti back. The fact that Emaru and some of her personal guards were on the trip spoke to the importance of it. Whether this importance came out of care for a magite’s safety or ensuring Alara passed this test, she wasn’t quite sure.

After all, Quenti wasn’t the first student to go missing. There really was a tendency for young magites to try and run back home when they first arrived at the Haven—frightened and homesick for their families. Usually, they were caught long before they made it out of the shadow of Cielo and the family would inevitably be called to visit and reassure their child. But Quenti was older and more trained with her magia. Too much for her own good, apparently, as she’d managed to escape Cielo.

Alara tried to think back to Quenti and their interactions. She knew Quenti hadn’t been in love with the Haven, but from what she could gather, it didn’t seem like she missed Hurazon or her family. But then again, Quenti seemed the type to jump first and think later. Alara could imagine her sneaking out of the Haven and Cielo just to prove she could—only to get eaten by a wild puma. Alara shuddered to think of the dangers that lurked in the cloud forest for a lone traveler without much protection or supplies.

“Don’t look so glum.” Ardo’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You’d think we were marching off to a funeral.”

She looked up and saw his pale eyes creased with a smile. “We just might be.” She said, giving him a weak smile in return.

“You know, I only met Quenti once or twice, but she seemed the type to put up a fight, even in the face of pumas, jaguars, and flash floods. She’s just scrappy enough to get herself into trouble and then keep herself alive.”

Alara let out a short laugh at this. “That sounds accurate. Of course, even if Quenti is off enjoying her adventure and staving off wild animals, there is still my magia issue. This is my last chance to prove I’m not a failure as a magite, remember?”

His smile faded away slowly and his eyes focused on her face, his thick eyebrows furrowing deeply. “I don’t know much about magia, but I do know you, and I’ve never known you to let yourself fail.”

Alara looked away quickly from the intensity of his eyes, annoyed at herself as she felt the blush creeping up her cheeks. She needn’t have worried. When she looked back, Ardo’s eyes were focused away from her and toward the right. She could only just make out the the River Sura behind the thick foliage, but she could hear it without straining. The water was rushing, fast and loud. She could see the marshland that stretched out from the river, proof of the rains that had been plaguing the realm for the past month.

It was a few hours before they came across the first settlement along the road. While north of Cielo was relatively well populated, villages in the southern lands tended to be few and far between because of the rugged terrain. The road that meandered along the river was bordered on both sides by taller hills and thick clouds forest, not exactly the most ideal living conditions for most.

The settlement they came to was small—hardly even a village—with just a few sparse stone buildings set along the side of the road between them and the river. Alpacas grazed in the grass along the road. A few small children ran around barefoot on the stone streets, laughing among themselves. They slowed as Alara and her escorts passed, the heavy pattering of the l’lamagas’ footsteps bringing out a few villagers from their houses.

Ardo and a few of the other soldiers jumped down from their rides, opening up the satchels tied to their l’lamagas’ backs. There were colorful potatoes and maize within the sacks and some dried beans. The villagers took the food eagerly, smiling at the guards and placing balls of colorful wool in the guards’ hands in exchange. As the children stood nearby, now still and watching the exchange, Emaru waved her hand and sent a shower of dark orange flowers down from a tree overhead. The high-pitched squeal of children filled the air as they jumped and yelled, running through the rain of color.

Alara couldn’t help but smile. This was a reminder of what she wanted to be a part of. The Haven and the Council did not just protect the realm, they brought hope and joy to the people that lived across the entirety of the lands. She wanted that, more than anything.

Alara looked at Ardo as he stood, surrounded by cheering children twirling his spear in complicated patterns above his head, making them scream and laugh as the spear dipped and swept over their heads. His hands and fingers moved in a smooth movement without even a flicker of hesitation or uncertainty.

As they left the village behind, Alara moved her l’lamaga alongside Ardo’s. “The children love you.”

He laughed and gave her a wink. “It’s all for show. Being able to twirl my spear never helped me kill an attacker.”

“It’s more than just show and you know it. The way you move your spear…” Alara paused and tilted her head at him, “It’s almost like magia.”

“Ah. I am unfortunately not blessed with such gifts.”

“No one is blessed with magia.” Alara’s voice was bitter.

“You are, whether or not you admit it. I wish I could do what the mages can do. Magia—it isn’t just make flowers fly and children smile. The mages keep the people fed, keep the realm borders safe, and keep the sick from dying.” He paused for a long moment and Alara thought he might be done talking, but finally he spoke again. His voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a part of that. I envy you.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Was it possible to look at her magia as a gift instead of a curse? Perhaps she had when she had been younger, much younger, but she didn’t remember and didn’t think there was any going back at this point.

When they made camp for the night, Alara was sore and tired. The air was warm and thick with humidity and the steady pace of the l’lamagas made her drowsy. She spread her magite scarf out on the ground as a blanket and laid back in the shade of a tree. The river was farther from the trail here and they could just barely hear the steady rush, but it couldn’t have been too far, as scouts came back soon enough with filled canteens.

A hand reached out to her, offering her one and she looked up to see Emaru sitting beside her.

“The sun is going down,” Emaru said, “so hopefully we’ll get some respite from this heat soon.”

“It’s times like this I miss the cold tunnels of the Haven,” Alara said, taking a swig of the clean, cold water—filtered by the water mage in the group. At least the river was still an icy cold.

“Close your eyes.”

Alara squinted at Emaru questioningly, but the councilwoman simply repeated herself.

“Close your eyes.”

She did so, her other senses coming into focus more as she did.

“Now, tell me, where are the mage guards right now?”

Alara suppressed a sigh of frustration. And so starts the tests.

She could feel the warm breeze that pushed through the trees from her left and the dapple of sunlight that broke through the shade of branches above her. She could hear movement to her left as a few councilguard soldiers gathered wood for a fire.

“There are some to the left, in the clearing.”

Emaru clicked her tongue. “A blind blameless could tell me that with the racket they’re making.”

“Son of a bruya,” Alara cursed under her breath.

“Language, Alara.”

Alara suppressed a groan.

“Now, how many are there?”

Alara closed her eyes and focused again. This time she called on the heat in her chest, doing her best to ignore the anxiety that came with it. She plucked at the flaming threads that sat at her core and pulled them, connecting them with the magia that circled her mind. She tried to control her heart rate as it jumped and skittered with every wave of heat that passed through her body. As her awareness pushed forward, she could feel the hint of magia cores to her left. “Two mages helping with the fire and supper.”

“Good. Now what about the patrolling guards?”

Breathing heavily, she focused back on the threads of heat and tried to push her mind out farther away from the clearing. As she did so, her body temperature spiked again and she let out a gasp before pulling back. Her eyes flew open, the blood rushing from her face.

Emaru didn’t look angry, but there was a hardness to her eyes that made Alara’s heart skip another beat. She was going to ruin her last chance and she was not ready for the disappointment that would cloud Emaru’s face when she did.

She closed her eyes again and grabbed onto the threads, yanking at her powers and feeling a trickle of sweat bead down her back as the heat rose in her and she stretched her mind out, looking for the guards. “There is one mage southeast and another west of us and…” A wave of heat hit her and she let out another deep gasp. When she opened her eyes, Emaru was looking at her with a small smile. She looked almost satisfied and Alara felt another wave—this time, one of joy.

Her guardian’s smile disappeared and she gave Alara a curt nod. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”

As she walked away, a branch snapped behind Alara and she turned to see Ardo. He sat down on the ground beside her with a lopsided grin and Alara felt a flutter in her stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be working or something?” Alara asked him as he stretched out on the grass beside her.

“I’m not on watch until later and no one wants me anywhere near supper. I can ruin a plain potato.”

Alara laughed and laid down next to him, looking up at the clouds that were slowly moving across the sky. The sun must have hit the horizon somewhere behind the tree line because of the blue of afternoon had started to fade into a purple and pink along the western sky. She smelled roasted meat and figured the food would be ready soon. The rumbling that came from her stomach told her the meal couldn’t come soon enough, as she hadn’t eaten anything since their brief stop in the first village. As she moved her arms to prop up her head, her hand brush against Ardo’s side and felt her face grow warm.

It was starting to get annoying at how aware she was of his presence lately. She had known him for years now, but over the past few months, something had shifted, and that shift had stupidly made her more conscious how he moved, how he smelled, and where his hair fell in his eyes. With that shift also came a constant worry of how she looked and smelled and how her hair stuck out in random directions.

“You have to appreciate what magia is able to do for us. It can be really beautiful,” Ardo spoke softly, his gaze directed to the cook fire and the guards moving around it. Alara looked over and saw Emaru using the air to throw a wool blanket over a low branch. The colored cloth whipped in the wind, rippling as thought it were alive as it flew over the branch and drifted back down, forming a small tent. Near the fire, another mage filtered their water and let it float above the fire in large orbs. As it began to boil in the air, she dropped them into individual mugs, coca leaves already ready to brew.

“Maybe water and air magia can be useful,” Alara said, “but fire is a different story.”

“What about cooking dinner?”

“It’s not like that can’t be done without magia,” Alara smirked. “And all I’ve ever managed is to burn guinea pig to a crisp.”

Ardo shook his head. “How have you managed to get this far in your studies?”

Alara was surprised at the sharpness in his voice. His eyebrows were knit and he looked at the mages as he spoke.

“You can control fire—stop fire. You can stop a village from being burned down by a random lightning strike. You could truly fight fire with fire if you ever ran into a bruya and be the best soldier the councilguard has known.”

“I don’t think I could ever take the title from you.” Alara smiled and laughed, but Ardo didn’t.

“You could.”

He placed a warm hand on her arm before getting up and walking over to the others. Alara ignored the warmth that seemed to linger from his touch. She took a deep breath and looked toward the others. Based on the smells in the air and the commotion, it seemed supper was ready.

She followed Ardo, her stomach rumbling deeply. She moved to sit next to him, but caught Emaru’s eye. She looked at Alara with a raised brow and nodded toward the empty spot next to her. Alara’s eyes flashed to Ardo as she moved to the other side of the fire with her guardian.

They ate in silence, Alara taking an extra potato when she saw that the others had gotten their share of food. The heat of the campfire was warm against her skin, even as it began to die.

Emaru finally spoke as the guards started moving around the camp to clean up supper and prepare for their watch shifts. “What were Ardo and you talking about earlier?”

Alara realized she was following Ardo around the camp with her eyes and looked down quickly. “He was just preaching about how I should appreciate my magia. You would’ve been proud.”

“And did you listen to him better than you listen to me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emaru’s lip twitched. Whether in humor or annoyance, Alara was unsure.

“Close your eyes.”

Alara’s shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn’t argue. She was too tired and sore to bother with that fight. As she closed them, she could still see the red of the flames dancing across her eyelids, contrasting with the now-darkened forest.

“Concentrate on the threads of energy within yourself.”

Alara was well practiced in this part of the dance. She could feel the threads of heat within her own chest, swirling just beneath the surface. The threads from the fire reached out softly from where it burned in front of her. And she danced around the edges of the threads, not quite touching them, but knowing they were there.

“Do you have them?”

Alara frowned and took a soft hold on the threads within herself, the barest touch sending warmth through her. She gave a stiff nod.

“Now open your eyes and connect your threads to the fire. Bend the them to your will and make the flames dance.”

She weakly pulled at the threads of energy from her chest and felt them connect to those the dying fire was sending off, crackling before her. Without much conviction, she sent a flame leaping from the logs. It was small, only a foot or so tall, but it sent a sharp wave of heat at Alara. She flinched and shook her head. “My flame is pathetic.”

“Strategy and focus can make up for weakness.” Emaru flicked her hand toward the fire, and Alara’s weak flame jumped up with a gust of wind, rising out of the logs with a roar of heat.

Alara immediately let go of her magia and the fire fell away, leaving a small flame licking at the logs.

“I don’t know how I raised such a coward.” The words were sharp and they felt like a slap across Alara’s face. She didn’t argue them though. She wasn’t quite sure if she could. Perhaps that’s all Alara was—a coward.

***

The next few days passed much the same as the first. Any time they reached a settlement or farm, Emaru or the others would dole out some food and perform a few simple spells to make the children clap. Between these visits, Emaru would occasionally ride up beside Alara and test her again.

“How many mages are behind us?”

“How many in front of us?”

“Where is our scout?”

Alara tried to focus and usually was able to get a few of the questions right before she felt the searing in her chest, pulled her magia back, and slumped against her l’lamaga. Emaru never seemed particularly disappointed, but she also never seemed quite satisfied, either. But by the third day, Alara truly did feel like she was able to stretch her mind farther than before. She still had no idea how she was going to find Quenti though. The runaway magite could have gone in a million different directions and if she was out of range of Alara’s abilities, she could be passing by them without anyone noticing. The whole endeavor felt hopeless.

It was late morning of the fifth day and Emaru was drilling Alara again, her l’lamaga padding directly behind. The magite had her eyes closed, feeling the movement of the mount, slow and smooth beneath her.

“How many behind us?”

The answer came quickly. “Three.”

“Ahead?”

“One.”

There was silence. Alara didn’t turn around, but stretched out her mind behind her, searching for where Emaru would be. There was nothing. She stretched farther and with a jolt, realized when she brushed across another core—one she recognized instantly as Emaru’s.

Recognizing magia was nothing new to Alara, but being able to recognize a specific person—that sent her whipping around, a smile wide on her face as she immediately made eye contact with her guardian, who had drifted off to the left and behind Alara, among the other guards.

Emaru must have recognize the look of excitement on Alara’s face because she smiled brightly and gave her a soft nod.

The joy in Alara’s gut faded quickly though, as they came across a farm and a couple of houses that marked the edge of a village. They had reached the outskirts of Attalea.

It was time for Alara to start using her magia for real.

And she did not feel ready.