“Because it won’t accomplish a damn thing if you do. I’m not just being pessimistic – if you’ve got Matilda’s blood in you, then you should be able to feel the reason why for yourself.”
You don’t appreciate her bringing your grandmother into this. It’s not as if you inherited magic from her, after all.
But hang on – wizards can recognize other wizards, that’s how they find apprentices. She ought to know you don’t have that power. So could she be talking about something else?
Wait. You do feel something. The air is off, somehow.
“Gas?” you ask, baffled. You couldn’t possibly know that.
“We should be so lucky. What you’re sensing isn’t natural by any sensible definition of the word. If you weren’t Matilda’s heir, it would have already seized your mind, like it’s seized theirs.”
“Is that what the big aura is?” You don’t think there’s any point in hiding that you can see them.
“Maybe. I don’t know auras. What I do know is that this place isn’t safe for us to venture near, and it’s too late to rescue them from it.”
You glare at her.
“I’m not going to just accept that because the air’s weird. We’re getting them out of there. Can’t you magically grab them or something?”
“That would immediately draw unwanted attention. And I don’t think we could handle that.”
Well, you’re still not giving up. Grandmother would be disappointed if you left others to face whatever in the hells this is without trying something.
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