Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(61)

“But I want to be able to help Beck grow the Light. How can I, if I’m always stuck outside it?”

Sam held out his hand. Place your hand on mine.

She obeyed, resting her palm on his downy fur.

Warmth like Beck’s moved through her: powerful, relaxing, grounded. Sam appeared to be testing her magick, prodding and confronting the flames rather than moving around them. She relaxed and let him work, praying he would come away with an answer she could live with.

You are so strong, Morgan, Sam seemed pleased. His magick retreated. I do not have the answer you seek now, but I can tell you, you are meant to find it. You are meant to help Beck restore the Light, push back Darkness and to find your own peace with him at your side. I will help you in what ways I can. The stone right now can only be handled by you. If that were to change, if you could bind it well enough, it might open up more options.

Her eyes watered at the gentle words.

You are on a path only you can travel to a destination that won’t be clear until you see it.

“So I have to do something. With the stone?”

You have to trap Bartholomew inside it. It will take more than fire for this.

“Yeah but there’s Dawn between Bartholomew and me,” Morgan murmured, thoughts turning to the bigger threat facing the school and Beck.

She has crossed the point of no return.

“That’s what Beck said. Are you certain I can’t burn the Dark out of her?”

You cannot. She is no longer Dawn, but a vessel for Bartholomew. If he hasn’t taken over her mind already, he will, and the Dawn you know will no longer exist.

Morgan listened, her heart dropping to her feet. Noah didn’t know his sister was gone; he had agreed to be burnt to a crisp in the hope of saving her. Morgan wasn’t sure how she was going to tell him the truth.

But … there was a part of her that accepted the truth without a fight. Perhaps because she had despised Dawn since the first time she heard her threaten Beck, or maybe it was the incidents at the lake in winter. Either way, Morgan wasn’t too surprised to hear that Dawn was a lost soul.

“I’m not good enough like Beck to feel bad for her,” she said. “Is that wrong, Sam?”

As long as you always act out of Light and out of the intention to protect the Light, how you think is your personal business. He said with a chuckle.

“So I can’t burn the Dark out of her, and I can’t let her have the stone. I feel like that leaves me nowhere.”

You can protect Beck’s child.

“What?”

Bartholomew is the Darkest of the Dark souls. He has taken Dawn’s body. I believe her baby is safe inside her, but when she is born, Bartholomew will have a new vessel. One that is not being hunted by both Masters, one he can mold and claim for a second coming.

Morgan’s heart pounded. The scene he painted was terrifying. She hadn’t paid much attention in class, but the stories of Bartholomew had interested her, as much because of the fire witchling that stopped him as the atrocities themselves.

The same skill that lets you bind the soul stone will let you bind the child in the womb and prevent Darkness from claiming her.

“Sam, I don’t know how to do that,” she whispered, sparks popping off her as she began to panic.

We will practice. Starting now. You are strong, Morgan. Your challenge won’t be learning to do it. It will be outmaneuvering Bartholomew to bind the child.

“And not burning Beck’s baby to a crisp.” Her thoughts raced for a moment, and she had the urge to run, until she realized this might be the only way she could help Beck, since she was sentenced away from the Light. “Teach me.”

This will take some time and practice. And bending your will and magick to that of another.

She considered his words. “I can do it,” she said fearfully. “I can let go.” I did it for Beck last night. I fell – and he caught me. “Let’s do this, Sam.” She said, mirroring Noah’s willingness and uncertainty from the night before.

Sit down and release your magick. Sam squeezed her hand.

Heart racing, she obeyed and closed her eyes, starting to sweat from the fear of being vulnerable to someone else.

Call for your fire and visualize it forming around our hands, Sam instructed her.

“Beck did a visualization exercise with me when I first got to the school, and I tried it again yesterday with Noah,” she murmured. “It didn’t work so well.”

Let me guide your magick so you can experience what it should feel like.

Morgan summoned her fire. It raced through her body and sizzled in the air around them. Sam’s gentle earth magick pushed and channeled it.

It is as much intention as it is fire, he told her. You need to will it to do what you wish.

“I’ll try.” She felt his magick yield to give her room to practice and made an attempt to shape it around their hands. It sparked and flew off in a different direction, and she sighed in frustration.

Calm your center.

She tried again, and the fire fizzled and spun angrily away.

Sam’s magick increased. It is possible the fire is too strong, he mused. Remain open. Let me test it.

She waited to feel what he did. Earth magick swept into her, as strong as Beck’s, suppressing the flames. She relaxed under the influence of warmth. “Beck does that,” she murmured, enjoying the temporary relief from the constant pacing and pulling of fire in her blood.