Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(84)

Then I raise my hands and focus on the rock, visualizing it moving to the other side of the meadow. Sweat beading on my skin. My brows twisting into a frown. I unleash my certainty, my conviction, my will that it’s going to move.

It’s going to move.

It’s going to move.

And absolutely nothing happens.

“Sonofabiscuit!”

With a roar of frustration, I kick the rock. Then I scream and fall on the ground, clutching my foot, tears of agony and frustration in my eyes.

The Eshvaren looms above me, its crystalline face shimmering with every color of the rainbow.

Why do you fail? it asks.

“How should I know?” I shout, eyes stinging.

Why. Do. You. Fail? it asks again.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching me!”

What is clouding your mind? it asks. What stands in your way?

“I don’t—”

You are not merely a vessel for the power, Aurora Jie-Lin O’Malley. You are the power. A power that must shatter planets. This is a place of the mind. The ties that hold you to this—it touches my chest with one shimmering finger—only hold you back. You must let go of what you were to become what you are.

It peers at me, eyes shining all the colors of the rainbow.

Burn. It. All. Away.

I hang my head, traitorous tears welling in my eyes.

“And what if I can’t do that?” I ask.

The Eshvaren shrugs.

Then you will do nothing.


Kal

Aurora is displeased.

We have been here for weeks, and she seems to be making no progress. As she stomps back to our camp after another day’s fruitless labor, I can feel the frustration soaking her through. She sinks into my arms, melts against my lips, and for a moment, all is well. I know she is glad to be back here. With me. Us, together. But still, I can feel how discouraged she is.

“How can I help, be’shmai?” I ask her.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I hold her close, her cheek pressed to my chest as I smooth back her hair. “What does the Eshvaren say?”

“ ‘Unshackle the strictures of the flesshhhh.’ ” She adopts a deep voice, mocking that of our host, and wiggles fingers in my face. “ ‘You must let go of what you werrrre to become what you arrrrrre. Burn it all awaaaaay.’ ”

I chuckle, and the smile she gives me in response makes my heart sing.

Spirits of the Void, she is so beautiful… .

“Perhaps it is normal to progress slowly?” I ask. “Perhaps this is just part of the journey all Triggers take?”

“I don’t even know if other Triggers came here before me,” she sighs. “I don’t know anything, other than that I don’t know anything.”

“I know you,” I say. “You are one of the most courageous, strongest people I have ever met.” I turn her away from me to look out into the blue-green clearing around us, my hands at rest on her hips. “Do as it asks you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Empty your mind,” I urge her. “Think only what you must be, not what you were. And then make us something.”

“… Like what?”

“Something simple?” I offer. “A fire, perhaps?”

She breathes deep. Still uncertain. But finally, she nods. “Okay.”

Aurora closes her eyes. Reaches out toward the empty space, the smooth, flawless grass just a few meters away. I can feel the struggle inside her, feel her muscles tense.

“I can’t … ,” she mutters, teeth clenched.

“You can,” I whisper.

She winces, her hand trembling.

“Burn it,” she breathes. “Burn it all away.”

I hold her tight. Willing her on. And then, as if some new thought has occurred to her, she pulls my hands away from her waist, steps out from the circle of my arms. Amazement budding in my chest, I see the ground before her shimmer, the air ripple as if it were water with a handful of pebbles cast into it.

“Let it go,” she whispers.

And, as if by sorcery, a blaze springs up from the ground before her. Not merely unchecked flame, but a firepit, stacked with burning logs. I can smell woodsmoke, feel heat, hear the timber crackling in the flames.

Aurora turns to me, her eyes shining.

“Kal, I did it!”

She squeals and crashes into my arms. Elation on her face, she stands on tiptoe and crushes her lips to mine, and almost all of me is caught up in the joy of her victory. But the smallest part, the part that feels unwelcome when the Eshvaren looks upon me, the part that ached as she pushed my hands away from her hips and stepped out of my embrace, realizes that, yes, she did it. But she did it …

Alone?

Burn it, she said.

Burn it all away.


Aurora

It’s been a month, and I still feel a thrill of satisfaction every time I move the rock across the meadow. It’s light as a feather now, spinning through the air solely under the force of my will.

“How you like that,” I mutter under my breath.

The stone cannot reply to you, Esh points out, not for the first time. Not only is it without the ability to think or speak, it is also not a real stone.