Ignite me, p.30
Ignite Me, page 30
I, too, have a role to play.
For every dark deed, I am the light—the pure force—that maintains balance so fate never tips too far one way or the other.
Evil and good. Dark and light. Pain and hope. Violence and peace. If ever fate is in danger of tipping too far in the wrong direction, I am the protective force that brings it back.
Even the belladonna seed I was planting has transformed at my touch, sprouting from a poisonous seed into a miniature sunflower.
I press my fingertips to my cheek where the hot air slapped me like a hand demanding my attention. There’s no way I can ignore the gust of wind, not when it defied all of the magical securities that The Crone has placed around our home.
In fact, it makes me wonder if something could be very wrong with those protections.
Just as I consider hurrying to the castle to warn The Crone, the same gust of hot air that slapped me in the face forms a tiny whirlwind right in front of me.
It rips apart the sunflower, scattering its petals across the table like a child throwing a tantrum to secure my attention.
The gust rises up and swirls around me, causing a chill to travel down my spine despite the heat in the air. Rushing up around my face, the gust plucks at my long, brown hair, pulling the strands in the direction of the far door to the desert beyond our haven.
Whatever is causing this gust won’t wait for me to run back to the castle for advice.
I hurry toward the door, striding along the mossy path that curves around lush bushes and rare plants from which I make my potions.
The path curves in the middle to accommodate the largest tree in my garden, a weeping willow with sweeping fronds that descend to the ground in elegant strands. Its drooping foliage is decorated with what looks like random pieces of cloth, beads, and charms—but that is only the external fronds.
Like other aspects of my home, the tree also has layers of illusion around it.
Beneath the external layer of fronds lies a deeper layer, onto which are tied magical objects that have, through some twist of fate, been lost to their owners.
I have a knack for sensing lost things and finding them, and my power allows me to cast protection spells over them.
Some objects contain immense power and must be protected. Others hold only sentimental value. The Crone continues to tell me to abandon those, but I refuse. The power of the object is not in its material value, but in its emotional value to the person who owned it.
There is power in heart.
I hurry along the path beside the Tree of Lost Things, but I pull up sharply before I pass it completely.
Wait a minute…
I defy the gust of wind, which continues to pluck at my dress and hair, while I take a step back to peer at three objects hanging from external fronds.
Three black feathers.
They weren’t here this morning.
I immediately recognize them as raven feathers.
But how did they get here? And why?
It’s not the first time an object has appeared on its own, as if it were seeking safe haven from the world outside, but these feathers…
I reach for them without thinking, only to gasp at the heat beating off them. It’s scorching. So hot, it feels like a physical force colliding with my palm. At the same time, shadows play around the feathers despite the clear sky above me, the dark light jumping at my presence, as if it’s trying to close the gap between us.
Quickly, I withdraw my hand, and the shadows settle back around the feathers.
I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I try to catch my breath and calm my pounding heart before I hurry onward.
Reaching the door, I press my hand against it, bracing for what lies outside.
Even when I open the door, the protection around this place should keep the hot desert air at bay, but if I step beyond it, I’ll be subjected to the harsh environment outside.
My palm tingles against the wooden surface and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I nearly jolt backward.
Something very dark is coming this way.
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Renee, Heather, Ignite Me
