Evelyn sighed as she looked at the burnt page in the middle of the Keeper’s Book. Putting the fear of Sister Nima’s wrath out of her mind, she closed the book and laid it on her bed. She followed it down, collapsing onto her belly. She rested her chin on her hand, looking at the wax pillar and judging the wick. Is a measly spark the best she can accomplish? Em says she thinks too much. She is right, of course.Letting out a sigh, she extends her arm to the candle. Her hand pauses just before the wick. She snapped her fingers for what felt like the dozenth time in a row. Her voice was quiet as she whispered to it.“It should light.”The wick caught, and a tiny flame sparked into existence. Evelyn ran her palm near the flame. She let the small warmth seep into her palm. She watched as the wax near the flame melted. Her eyes tracked the beads as the candle cried. Em doesn’t understand what she is trying to do here. It is easy to just take what is provided and not question it. What she wanted… no, what she needed was more than that. Answers. The wax began to pool in the candle holder. She tilted her head. Just like adding drops of blood on a trial sigil, she still needed more. Clarity? Restrictions? Control?How many ways can fire change? It either burns or it doesn’t. She rubbed her hand on the wooden wall and the cotton bedding. She frowned, then looked beside her at the book. The scorched pages still carry that burned smell. Fire testing will have to wait until she has more answers, or when she isn’t surrounded by flammable things.She slipped off the bed and dropped onto the wooden floor. Reaching below, she pulled out her dowry chest. Her hands paused at the latch. Was she being rash? This stuff was for her future family. Her fingers fiddled with the latch, and she raised it. Slower than she’d like. That alone was annoying. Finally lifting the lid, she reached in and removed a pot along with a tray with square separators built into the metal.Leaving her tools on the bed beside the book, she closed the chest and kicked it back under. Her eyes once more sought out the candle wax pooling in the holder. Her lips turned up at one corner. She took the pot and tray to the spigot outside, filling them before walking them back into her room. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, putting one hand on a tray and the other on the pot.Evelyn focused her attention on the pot first. Holding her palm just above the rim, she let her fingers dip into the water. It will boil. Just like when cooking using the glyphs.A moment later, she saw the water start to ripple. Her fingers left the water before it got uncomfortable. She hovered her hand above it, allowing the warmth to set in. It bubbled up and then quickly began letting off steam into her palm. A smile cracked upward.
Evelyn turned her attention to the other hand. The segmented sections of water were divided on the metal tray. Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers along the edge of the tray. It will freeze. She’s just doing an everyday task, filling the ice tray.The chill just below her fingertips began to set in. She waited, hands over each tool, allowing the unnatural processes to run their course.
Retracting her hands, she eyed the pot and tray. One had reached a rolling boil, and the other began to crystallize into little cubes. As expected, Grace had always allowed us to take shortcuts. Her hand waved through the steam, and she prodded the ice. Holding a hand above each, she reversed her test. Can an ice tray boil water? Can a pot make a large chunk of ice?She gave the boiling pot her focus and watched the steam warm her hand. She took a deep breath and whispered. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it“It will freeze.” Though she wasn’t sure what use a large block of ice had, she kept her hand there regardless. Come on… freeze… she waited. No noticeable effect. Bringing both hands over the boiling pot, she forced herself not to overdo it. It must freeze. It will.As she waited, the water began to slow its boil, though it was reluctant to do so. However, she remained steadfast and alert. Her hands were poised right above the still boiling water. On the handle, ice formed as if to create a handle for her to grab. Ugh. Not there. The water!She redoubled her attention by closing her eyes to picture the water inside the pot transitioning from a boil to a frozen state. She could imagine the scalding of the water as it became warm, then cooled, and finally froze over in her mind. When her eyes opened, the water was still there, taunting her for her lack of power.“JUST FREEZE!” Her voice boomed in the small room, demanding the uncooperative pot to obey. Her fists crashed down on the floor on either side of the pot. The reply from the Grace was swift. The pot instantly formed a fissure from base to rim and leaked out the boiling water in a torrent. Her floor quickly changed to a darker color as a mess was made.“Shit!”She flinched. That pot was meant for her future family. Grabbing the ice-covered handle of the pot and nearly dropping it in her haste to stand. She took it to the window, and she grabbed the latch. Throwing her shoulder into it, she swung it open and tossed the boiling water out onto the grass. She sat down on her bed, holding the cracked pot up close for inspection. That wasn’t freezing…“I broke it. Did it try to freeze too fast? Or is there something else at play here? Why didn’t the water go cold like the ice tray did?”She shook her head and stepped around the puddle before dropping to her knees in front of the tray of a dozen still frozen ice blocks. Removing one chunk, she held it in her palm. It was a small cube of ice, foggy from its quick freeze. She shifted it from one hand to another. The obvious move would use her Grace to melt it. It would speed up the process. However, that wasn’t her goal in testing today. She wanted to learn how to control the process.She held the ice between her fingers and stared at the flat edge. The water from the ice ran down her wrist and to her elbow, where it dripped down to join the puddle below. This will burn. It will catch on fire… Ignite. She squeezed the cube of ice harder, whispering her command.“Burn.” She frowned as the ice cube in her hand crumbled into slush. A flash of heat erupts in her palm, and she flicks her hand to free the ice bits from her grip with a hiss. The ice splatters out across the floor. They steamed violently, boiling away into nothing. She wiped her hand on her dress, then looked down with a wince. She opened her palm to reveal reddened skin that stung when she prodded it. Warm just beneath the skin.She brought her other hand to lift an ice cube from the tray. She pulled it out and opened her palm.“Melt.”Before she could fully state her intentions, the ice began to pool into water. She watched as it quietly and efficiently dripped off the side of her hand and dropped to the floor. So, Grace can boil water but not burn a cube? It can make ice but not freeze a block in a pot. Why? Grace might be limited to specific jobs. Does she have to have a clear purpose? Reaching for the quill, she paused, her writing hand still stinging. She grabbed it loosely between her fingers and dipped it into the ink. Her fingers tapped on the table as she leaned forward. She opened the keeper’s book to the front and wrote on the blank page. “Why is Grace so picky? What are the conditions?”Four knocks echo in her room as the door rattles. The familiar voice of Elder Issac calls for her.“Evelyn, you have been summoned to meet with The Mother.”