Free Skyfire by Skye Melki-Wegner Page A

Bastian says. ‘Any temporal proclivity is linked with time, see? With a Night proclivity, for instance, you can sense the different stages of the night.’
    That’s true enough. As my proclivity settles into my bones, I’ve begun to feel the brushing of time that comes with it. The way that midnight scratches my skin. How I can almost taste the coming of dawn.
    â€˜The Timekeeper,’ says Bastian, ‘was a very talented alchemist. And her proclivity was strong. Unnaturally strong, especially its temporal aspects. Even in her youth, she felt the breath of time upon her skin.
    â€˜And so she began to play with it. She focused on recognising time with her magic. Touching it. Tasting it. She grew older, and stronger. At thirty, she could name the time of night down to the millisecond. At fifty, she could taste the touch of age and time within another person’s skin. And finally, after countless decades – and with alchemical alterations to her own body – she learned to manipulate it.’
    â€˜Wait, what?’ Teddy says.
    â€˜She could manipulate time,’ Bastian says. ‘She could consume it. Steal it. Steal a dozen years from a man’s body and give them to another or keep them for herself. Seize a lifetime from her enemy and give it to her brother.
    â€˜Finally, she tried to seize time from the land itself, and left the earth crippled and corrupted. It’s her fault, you see, that the land’s so damned unstable. Her fault that we have earthquakes, and that every midnight …’ Bastian trails off, shaking his head. ‘Too much power, son. Too much power for one soul to hold.’
    â€˜What happened to her?’ I say.
    â€˜They killed her,’ Bastian says. ‘Her own guards killed her in her sleep, so she couldn’t suck their lives away.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜That’s why Lord Farran banned temporal proclivities,’ Bastian says. ‘If a proclivity is linked to time, who knows how it might develop? A man’s grasp on his proclivity can change with the years, and the earth in Víndurn is already tainted. Already fragile.’
    â€˜Hang on,’ Teddy says. ‘This whole thing sounds like cock and bull, I reckon. I’ve never heard of anyone learning to –’
    â€˜She was the only one,’ Bastian says. ‘She was more than talented. She was … a prodigy. But even so, it’s too dangerous to let such magic go unchecked. Any soul with a temporal proclivity could become corrupted, see? Could be like the Timekeeper all over again.’ He gives Teddy a significant look. ‘And I don’t know about you, son, but I don’t fancy my years being slurped up like chowder.’
    Silence.
    A twist of fury shivers down my spine at this injustice. One old story led me here, to the land beyond the Valley. Now, another will kill me. Perhaps it’s fear, or just exhaustion, but for a wild moment I fight the urge to laugh.
    Bastian stares at me, noticing my strange expression. ‘Turn around, lass,’ he says. ‘I want to see your tattoo.’
    I hesitate.
    â€˜Come off it,’ Teddy says. ‘What is this, the tattoo inquisition?’
    â€˜You’re too damned interested in temporal proclivities,’ Bastian says, his eyes still fixed on me. ‘And I will see your neck, whether you like it or not.’
    â€˜Leave her alone!’ Clementine says.
    The others step protectively towards me. I want to tell them to back down, to leave it, but my head is throbbing like alchemy fire and I can’t think clearly. Anything I do or say might cement the man’s suspicions.
    â€˜Turn. Around.’ Bastian’s tone is suddenly cold. ‘Turn around, or I swear I’ll make you.’
    On the far side of the room, the flower vase shatters as Bastian’s proclivity clenches around the water. Dead petals and stale liquid spray across the floor. He steps