sure, would descend on the House of Whispers as soon as he heard she was gone. Xander was her mate, his people her people, and they were likely all reeling from her loss. And Rafe…
Her heart hurt just thinking about him.
He'd be gone by now, she was sure, their night together as burned into his memories as it was in hers. Their kisses. Their sighs. Those magical hours beneath the stars when they'd let passion consume them. Now their minds were supposed to lead them, but if he thought her hurt, he'd come back, no matter the personal cost. He would probably do something foolish and noble and brave in his quest to see her safe—the thought which terrified her the most.
Lyana dropped her gaze back to the bowls set on the table. "Please, Malek, tell me again about the magic, about what I must do."
"The world is made of elements, both tangible and not," he began, leaning forward once more. Though he'd told her all of this already, there was no tiredness to his words, just determination. He always seemed so focused. Did he ever allow himself a little time for fun? "For the purposes of our magic, the physical elements matter most—earth, air, fire, and water—because our magic is tied to the thing which connects them all. Within the molecules of water, between the burning embers, deep beneath the ground, and flowing across the sky, there is spirit—invisible to all eyes except for ours. A hydro'kine can manipulate the ocean waves, but you, if you want to, can manipulate the very thing that holds the ocean together." He paused as a stream of golden flecks flew from his fingers, sinking into the water and lifting a perfect sphere of liquid into the air. "A pyro'kine can make fire dance across the air, but you can make the spirit connecting each lick of flame soar." The water fell back into the dish, not a single drop spilling, and the aura of magic switched to the flames, urging them to go higher. "When you heal people, you work directly with their spirits, which are the easiest for us to command because human souls practically cry out to be saved. But every aspect of the physical world is touched by spirit, which means every aspect of the physical world is ours to do with what we will."
Lyana shivered at his words. She wasn't sure if she wanted so much power. "And what of the intangible elements?"
"Don't concern yourself with those."
If only he knew her well enough to understand his refusal only heightened her interest. "Please. Every bit of information helps. I didn't grow up surrounded by magic like you. All of this is new to me."
He released the fire and clasped his hands on the tabletop. No sigh escaped his lips, but with her magic at the surface, Lyana thought she felt his spirit relent. "Light and dark magic are the most common, but there are others such as time and space. It's believed the woman who proclaimed the prophecy could see into the future, though I've never seen such magic myself. I met a man who could touch objects and see flashes of the past. We also know of magic that allows one to open doors to other lands. But none of that has anything to do with the spirit magic we possess."
Doors to other lands? What Lyana wouldn't give to have that magic—to get out of this room, to explore. Her attention slid to the window and the opaque gray shrouding the view. In all her years of wondering, she’d never imagined the world beneath the mist to be so dull, full of nothing but the lessons she'd spent her childhood escaping.
"Lyana." His tone was chiding.
"I'm sorry." She returned her focus to the bowls. "I'll try again."
Lyana brought her magic to the surface, letting the power swell beneath her skin. The world seemed to fade and flourish at the same time. The wood desk and walls and floor fell away, replaced by a cacophony of colors, as though a film had fallen over her eyes, giving her access to a different scene, one layered over what she knew was there. Brightest of all was Malek, a golden pulse in his chest extending out to his limbs—living, breathing spirit. His shine dulled all others, but she forced her gaze away, back to the bowls and the lesson she was utterly failing. Within the flames, red streaks flickered. Within the dirt,