Seraphis shifted from where she sat, moving slightly into Loren’s field of vision. Fire flickered all over her skin and hair, enveloping her in roaring flames. Loren gasped, stunned at the sight. Seraphis herself was set completely ablaze. “Magic borrowed from my dear sister,” she explained. “Complete self-immolation. It’s only because of her magic that I’ve not burned to death. Honestly I wouldn’t mind, but you know. There are still things to do and people waiting for me.” She laughed, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll just be over here to warm things up for you till dawn. You’re very lucky, princess. This is a horrible place to die in.”
Loren settled into silence after a while, giving up the struggle born from her curiosity. The more she struggled, the more she dug herself a little indent in the snow. Gershwin was telling the truth when he said that she was exactly where they fell; with each wiggle of her back to see the mage or her friends, some snow would fall into the neck of her surcoat and leathers. She lay staring at the snow ceiling overhead for a while, listening to the sounds around her. Gershwin was muttering something to Seraphis, their voices low enough to be inaudible to Loren. Someone else was snoring loudly out of sight; Loren suspected it may have been Kaiten. Right beside her ear was Kae’s steady breathing. It was slow and soft, and the huntress still looked pale, but she was alive. Loren permitted herself a small smile. It was enough for her.
An hour passed, and still the princess couldn’t go back to sleep. Now that she was somewhere safe, and warmth had returned to her limbs, her body was filled with a restless energy that she couldn’t get rid of simply lying still in the snow. She craned her head again and caught sight of Gershwin’s hide boot illuminated by Seraphis’s flames.
“Sir Gershwin!” she said. “Sir, do you have a moment?”
The old man chuckled, and slowly stood from the little snow mound he had made for himself to function as a chair. He came and sat beside Loren so that the princess no longer had to strain. “Yes, little dragon? You need not call me ‘sir,’ I am not a knight.”
“I’m sorry, sir just seemed proper.” Loren stammered.
“Still cannot sleep, I see. What is on your mind?”
“How does magic work?” Loren asked, eyes wide and curious like a child. ”The Spellmaster of Aldoran explained it to me as…well, mages are born with the markings, and that gives them control over certain things?”
Gershwin blinked, startled at the simple and straightforward question. “Well, yes, that is essentially how magic works in people.”
“In people? That includes Beastmen, right?”
“Ah. Unfortunately, no. Beastmen are never born with the aptitude towards magic.”
Loren frowned and was silent for a few seconds. “So someone must really be born with markings to be able to do magic? If you don’t have it, you cannot learn it?”
“A mage can teach all they want, but without the connection to a higher plane — it is known as the spirit world, the Aether — to the elements and the earth, nothing will happen. That is simply a truth of the world.”
“Then what about the Aldoran dragon magic? I wasn’t born with markings, my mother and most of my ancestors were not born mages. How come the pendant works for us?”
Gershwin fell silent. As the silence stretched a bit too long, the princes began to think she had overstepped a boundary somewhere with her questioning. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the old man continued. “Magic, little dragon, is not as cut and dry as we may want it to be.”
“The arcane forces of this world choose who will be born with the ability to control their surroundings. The Sons and Daughters, for one, are predestined to be born, to live, and to die with their respective powers in their respective locations. Seven Sons and Seven Daughters, each the most powerful mage with control of their one, single, individual element or bailiwick.”
Loren hesitated. “But we’ve met a Daughter, Danna. I think she said she was the Second. She spelled men in an inn to fight for her amusement.”
“Ah, Danna.” Gershwin sighed heavily. He looked to age several years at the mere mention of Danna’s name. “She was always a wild child, that Danna. Her element is air, truth be told, but her expertise is in manipulation. A spelled whisper here, a scent on the wind there, and anyone she chooses will be bent to her will.”
On the snow, Loren moved the furs farther up her face, leaving only her eyes exposed, curious and watching Gershwin all the while. “That does sound like what she did at the inn…” she said, her voice muffled.”
“Mine, as you know, is frost. The cold and snow do not bother me. I can raise or calm blizzards and can walk in even the most frigid of areas.” Gershwin chuckled. “The only drawback is that I am bitterly sensitive to heat! I can accompany you all to the border of the north, but no farther I’m afraid.”
“It’s the same with my dear sister.” Seraphis chimed in. “She’s the Fourth of the Daughters, the Witch of Flames they call her. The slightest chill will set her off, and she would set the nearest flammable thing or person ablaze to create some heat.”
Loren winced at the thought of Haedria setting servants on fire as portable heaters. She turned back to Gershwin. “So what about the dragon magic?”
“Ah! Yes, the dragon magic. My apologies, I must have gotten sidetracked.” The old man cleared his throat. “ As I am aware, the High Dragon who’s favor the Lady Ylfair won bestowed the powers to her. With the help of talented smiths, the dragon itself,
