Kella was not satisfied with sitting in her rooms while her mother was gone. She went to the windows and pressed her warm face to the cold glass. The sun was shining on her but she hardly felt it. With her eyes closed, she sent tendrils of magic up into the ether. It spiraled high overhead and then sparked outward like a shower of stars falling from the sky. Her magic separated into small pieces, like grains of rice that fell to the earth for miles. She pulled from it what she could, searching every piece for a sign of her mother.
If those tendrils of magic didn’t find a clue, she dispatched them to other areas. Her magic was sweeping the keep and the countryside in spirals, poking and prodding every detail for signs of her mother.
The sun tracked across the sky. Kella was...
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