The Other Fairy

Ch. 30

I sat there and listened as my mother explained the finer details about combining fairy magic and how difficult it can be to maintain that connection.

"Mind fairies can feel the world around them and that extends to magic," my mother said. "Mind fairies once they have developed their ability can act as a bridge and connect multiple forms of magic." Bloom and I smirked at each other both of us thinking of the few instances of combining our powers. "This isn't something to be done on a whim. This form of fairy magic can be very volatile and dangerous. If you aren't ready you can damage your magic or someone else's. You can even hurt people around you."

I had long since stopped listening to my mother as I thought over the few times I combined my powers with another person. I had experienced everything my mother was talking about first hand. I didn't need to hear about it because I felt the strain. After the class ended everyone scrambled out of the room laughing and carefree. They had slipped back into the routine they had before Rosalind had taken over and it was strange to me but then again I didn't have the luxury to forget.

"Brielle," Stella said pulling my attention. "We are going to the library would you care to join us?" Stella asked as I nodded. I got up following Stella and the rest of the girls to the library. Bloom had gone straight to books on combining magic trying to see if there was more information than what my mother had told us. I knew there wasn't. It was more about feeling and control than anything else. I grabbed a book off the shelf about healing sitting there pouring over each page. Unfortunately, the book spoke only of healing physical wounds not magical ones.

"Find anything useful?" Terra asked as I shook my head.

"Not unless someone has a physical injury," I stated as Terra's smile fell. "I'm going to watch the specialist class." I said to avoid the pity showing in my friends eyes. I got up rushing away and straight to the specialist training area. I found my father first before I settled in sitting on a training mat watching as two first year specialists sparred with wooden sticks. They were both fast but sloppy with their technique. The first boy, who had bright red hair, would leave his left side open when he swung at his partner. The second boy, who had blue hair, was moments away from tripping over her own feet as he moved to block a hit or land a hit of his own.

Observing the specialists brought back memories I wish it hadn't. Memories of my childhood with Andreas.

"Alira, it's time!" Andreas yelled as my ten year old self ran down the stairs and out the back door. I found Andreas standing there with a wooden stick. He motioned for me to grab the second on off the grass. I grabbed the heavy stick before looking over at Andreas. My eyes widened as he ran at me with no warning barely blocking his swing. "Always be ready." I struggled to hold him back when he used his foot to trip me. My back crashed against the grass seconds before the wood stick hit my side. Pain flooded up my right side as I coughed. Andreas stood above me his eyes blazing as he glared down at me. "Get up."

"I can't," I said holding my ribs.

"Push through the pain. A fight doesn't stop because of an injury!" He yelled as tears swelled in my blue eyes. I couldn't focus on anything but the pain in my side as I got to my feet shakily. I had barely gotten up when he landed another blow to my injured side as I shrieked in pain falling to the grass again. This time I didn't get up, I couldn't.

I shook off my thoughts as my father came over to give the students critiques.

"Nice work," my father said to the red head who managed to knock the second boy to the ground. "Alex you leave your side open when you swing and Brad your foot work is sloppy."

"Yes sir," Brad said taking Alex's hand to get off the ground. Hearing my father giving advice to improve the fighting ability made me think back to every time Andreas knocked me down. He never gave an indication of how to improve I just had to, each fight, learning from my broken ribs or bruised face. My father glanced at me before he sat beside me.