Fire Within, Fire Without

The stairs of the Menders’ Sanctum weren’t steep like those of the Academy, but a gentle incline, with each flight being enough to wrap halfway around the large tower before reaching the next floor. While this was ideal for porters carrying books and paper and for patients of the healers that might have trouble walking, it made the climb to the top so much longer.

So it was that Saga found herself approaching the top floor, doing her best not to pant. She’d made this trek several times before and, despite Saga’s regular exercise and conditioning, it always wore her out. She was grateful that Master Jocara usually met her at the Academy for lessons. It had to be some kind of power play, she was certain. Mages were always like that, right?

As she reached the door and lifted a hand to knock, a soft breeze gathered around her from nowhere and pushed it open. Inside sat Jocara of Merallo, Master Mage and Councilor of the Sanctum. Her head was shaved, and she was dressed in a simple violet robe that left her arms bare. The dark-skinned woman smiled serenely at Saga, though the latter knew the kind smile was an act.

Oh, Master Jocara was plenty kind, but she was even more mischievous than Saga despite her refined demeanor. When Saga had struggled to visualize her Shield spell, Master Jocara pelted her with the rubber balls children played with until she could finally defend against them. Arty had been dragged into that meeting too, and the poor boy was bruised for days afterwards. Neither he nor Saga resented the teacher for it, or at least not much. That was just how she was. If regular lessons didn’t work, she’d find a way to get it through to you.

“You look exhausted.” Master Jocara’s voice, normally cool and collected, carried a hint of amusement. She likely knew full well how Saga felt. “Come in, come in. You know you do not need my permission to sit.”

Saga rolled her eyes and entered the room proper. “Couldn’t you have met me at the Academy? I’m supposed to be recovering from my trip.”

Jocara only smiled, but that was the equivalent of a laugh from most people. “Exercise is good for you. Trust me, I’m a healer.”

“You’re a mage first, and I’ve gotten plenty of exercise lately, thank you,” Saga replied dryly. She chose a spot on the couch near the Master’s desk. Dapper crawled out of her coat’s pocket and hopped away to explore the room.

“Oh? Young Bertalan has been gone for a week and already you have taken a new lover?” Jocara’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That explains the skirt and your hair. If it was not for that scar, I would not have recognized you.”

Saga’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Not like that!”

Jocara’s smile widened. “I see. Could it be you are still seeking one? Tale knows a young lady who seems taken with you. Perhaps you could—“

“ Master Jocara! ” Saga cried, exasperated. She could feel her cheeks practically burning.

Jocara widened her eyes in what Saga knew was feigned innocent. “I apologize if I misunderstand. I must say, though, you still seem to have some difficulty controlling your emotions.” She rose from her desk, pulled over a chair, and sat facing Saga so close their knees were almost touching. Her smile disappeared as she stared into Saga’s eyes for what felt like minutes.

“Did you call me as my healer, or my magic teacher?” Saga did her best to hold the gaze, feeling the heat fade from her face as the moment passed. “Or maybe my matchmaker.”

“The first two, actually, though I am available for the latter,” came the reply, though her voice was softer now. “How is your eye feeling?”

“Fine, physically. My vision is as strong as ever, no blurriness.”

“And the fire?”

Saga hesitated. She’d told Master Jocara about the fire she saw in her right eye the first time it happened, back when she was still a child, and the woman had assured her that, as long as there was no physical pain or loss of vision, it shouldn’t cause any harm. “Someone else saw it.”

She expected her to show shock or surprise, but the woman only nodded. “I heard from the Headmaster. It seems Gemma Chase was worried enough to confide in him about it, and so he asked me to check in on you.” After a moment, she leaned back in her chair. “How angry were you at my comments when you entered?”

“Angry?” Saga replied, confused. “I wouldn’t really say I was angry, more embarrassed and annoyed.”

Jocara nodded thoughtfully. “And how strong were those emotions? On a scale of one to ten?”

“I don’t follow.”

“If I am going to help you understand this new development with your eye, I need you to help me understand when it happens. How annoyed were you?”

Saga considered the question. “I suppose…a six, perhaps? I don’t really know how to quantify it.”

The mage nodded in understanding. “That is alright, just give me a number that feels right. Gemma said that when she first saw it, she believed you were angry at her. Could you describe your feelings and rate how strong they were?”

“I was certainly angry, but I mostly felt betrayed. I’d say an eight.”

The two went back and forth like this for what felt like hours, during which Saga gave Jocara her account of the trip and her mental state throughout. When she was finished, she felt like her life had been put on full display for the older woman.

Jocara leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and pursing her lips in thought. “As best as I can tell, your struggles with your emotions began somewhere between your fight with the bandits and the encounter in the village, but despite you seeing fire several times after those events, no one else saw the fire until the situation with Gemma. Why do you think that is?”

Saga blinked. “I’m not sure, I hadn’t thought about it.”

The two sat together in silence for a second. Master Jocara was clearly lost in thought, so Saga pondered the question herself. What could have made it visible to Gemma? Was it something special about that moment? Had something changed in Saga? Was Gemma different somehow? It couldn’t be that Gemma was a drake, other drakes had seen Saga’s eyes while she was seeing fire, and none of them had commented on it.

“Something must have happened,” Jocara mused, “between Dorrin attacking you and Gemma seeing you. Can you think of anything else that might have happened? Even the slightest thing?”

The voices. Saga’s blood ran cold. Could she trust Master Jocara with that knowledge? Would she think she was crazy? She studied the woman, but she had to ponder the question for only a second before realizing that she was likely the only person in the city she could talk to about this. Her mind set, she told Master Jocara about what she remembered of the dream: the dead bandit trying to kill her, a physical void on the ground begging her to jump in, and a presence in her chest that helped her resist it.

Jocara listened in rapt attention, her eyes fixed on Saga’s, not even interrupting to ask questions like she had before. When Saga was done, the other woman furrowed her brow. “Two voices…one audible, one communicating by feelings and images…have you heard either of them since?”

Saga nodded. “Last night. I was sitting at the wall plaza. Something happened and I was in pain. Emotionally,” she clarified before the mage could ask. “The void voice offered to take the pain away from me, but and I realized I could talk to it. I pushed it away, and I think that presence from before helped shield me from the pain. I felt a little better, enough to go about the rest of my evening.”

“Interesting. Could you try getting angry for me?”

Saga understood the request this time. She closed her eyes and focused on that ball of pain, and images of everything that had happened recently flashed in her mind. Her explosion when trying to help fight off the shadepaws. The fight with the bandits. Master Dorrin’s meeting with the Captain. That crazed man in the village. Master Dorrin’s betrayal and subsequent death. Gemma’s grief, then her rage. She let herself dwell on the anger and hurt that these images brought up, mentally clutched that ball of red hot iron until it brought tears to her eyes. Her heart raced, and she clenched her fists as dark thoughts raced through her mind until, finally, her right eye began to burn.

When she opened her eyes, she was startled to see her own face. Jocara was holding a mirror before her, and Saga could see what Gem saw: Her left eye appeared normal, the olive green she’d inherited from her father. The right, usually normal save for the grey iris, seemed to be full of fire. She gasped, fixated on the little orb of flame, but as her anger faded from the shock, the fire extinguished until her eye had returned to normal.

Experimentally, she reached for the anger again. Upon seeing the fire return, she focused her will and held it, not releasing it into a spell. As the pressure built behind her eyes, she saw her left eye manifest. Unlike the right eye, in which the fire was completely contained within the eye itself, her power manifested as an aura of fire surrounding her left eye, sweeping up and out to the side of her head. The way her eyes looked next to each other was simultaneously breathtaking and terrifying, and with her blonde hair flowing out from under her hat, she almost looked like the depictions of angels one found in old texts, though she lacked the metallic skin.

This is what the people last night would have seen , she thought as she studied herself, and when finally asked her teacher a question, her voice came out as a whisper. “Have you ever see this?”

Jocara tilted her head thoughtfully. “I have see uneven manifestations before, usually in other mages who had their eyes damaged. Whatever is happening in your right eye…this is new.” She lowered the mirror, and Saga allowed the anger and her will to fade. “At what point during the process did you begin to see the fire again?”

“Not until the end, after I’d recalled everything that’s happened.”

“Then perhaps it is not quality, but quantity.” Jocara leaned forward, smiling reassuringly. “As long as the fire does not obscure your vision or cause you pain, I do not think your health is in danger. However, you are definitely under the influence of something.”

Saga scoffed. “Beg pardon? All I’ve had this morning was breakfast with some water.”

The mage’s face broken into a wide smile for just a moment. “Not a substance, Saga. A presence . A force is exerting its will upon you.”

“Oh. Do you know what? Maybe a monster of some kind?”

Jocara shook her head. “I do not know of any creature that could cause something like this. Most monster enchantments are short-lived, though I am not an expert like Blake so I could be mistaken. Your emotions have always run hot, to use a phrase you might understand, but even what you’ve been through cannot explain all of the changes you have experienced, especially those voices.”

“You…don’t think I’ve gone mad?” Saga asked hopefully.

“No, you have been mad for as long as I have known you,” Jocara replied, smiling again, “but I do not believe this is madness. Unfortunately, there is nothing else I can do to help you for now. I have trained you in magic, and I have been your healer since you were barely as tall as my knee. You are strong, Saga. Use that strength. Whatever is afflicting you, you have the power to resist it.” With that, she reached out and squeezed Saga’s knee in a comforting gesture. “Let me know if anything else develops. I will offer advice as best as I can.”

Saga nodded and, sensing an end to the conversation, stood and stretched. Jocara stood as well, almost as tall as Saga, and the two shared a hug. “Thank you, Master Jocara.”

“Do not start with that ‘Master’ nonsense. You are trying to make me feel old.” Jocara grinned. “My hair will turn grey.”

“Then it’s a good thing you shave your head,” Saga teased, returning the smile.

“Where will you go now?”

Saga looked out the window behind Jocara’s desk. She’d been here longer than she thought, and she could see the sun approaching the horizon, though the sky hadn’t quite yet begun to turn orange. “I’m heading to the Academy. I need to do some thinking before the funeral. Dapper?”

She held out her hand, and the beatweaver landed on it a moment later. Jocara smiled affectionately at him and stroked his back. “Hello again, little friend. I have missed our game. You must return to play again soon.”

“Game?” Saga asked, puzzled. “What game?” She eyed the spider suspciouslly, but he only chittered and pretended not to notice.

“Oh, were you not aware?” Jocara raised her eyebrows, seeming genuinely surprised. “Sometimes your little friend here comes to me to play Spiderwebs with me. He is very good at it.”

Saga looked at Dapper. Spiderwebs was a game where players took turns pursuing each other across a simulated spiderweb, trying to avoid traps hidden by the other player that would make them vulnerable to capture. It was known for being easy to learn and hard to master, and people of all ages enjoyed it, but she hadn’t realized he knew how to play. “Are you sure it’s him? Some people have a hard time telling them apart.”

“He’s the only beatweaver I know who wears hats.”

“Fair.” Saga shrugged. “We should play sometime, Dapper.”

His hesitant taps made her widen her eyes.

“Little jerk! What do you mean, ‘I’d be terrible at it’!?”