He was slowly trying to make the bloodline abilities come under his control. The last time he lost to the rage, he was gravely injured, and if it wasn't for Sigora, he wouldn't be alive.
Relief washed over Sigora's face. She reached out one long-fingered hand and gently brushed Jorghan's dark hair from his forehead. Unlike the Nor'vack, whose hair grew in thick, rope-like strands, Jorghan's was fine and straight.
"That's good," she said.
"Very good. The elders were concerned after what happened at the harvest ceremony."
Jorghan winced at the memory. His anger had flared when some of the tribe children had taunted him, and suddenly the rage had exploded outward, nearly burning down the ceremonial platform. It wasn't the first time his emotions had triggered his mysterious powers.
"I've been practising the breathing exercises," Jorghan said. "And the meditation with the glowing stones you gave me. They help a lot."
Sigora nodded approvingly. "Your powers are unusual, even among humans. That's why some in the tribe fear you." She didn't need to add that it was also why the patriarch, her husband, disapproved of his stay in the clan.
But her word won in the end. She couldn't let her blood, her nephew, the only heir of the Sol'vur clan, be left alone.
"Enough about that; where are the others?"
"They left to do their stuff."
"Can you go and fetch some of the nymoriel for me, please?" she asked him. She taught him the names and their use. Also how to make potions.
Jorghan nodded and went out.
-
A few minutes later, Jorghan came into the warehouse again. He was holding a basket full of green leaves of Nymoriel.
Sigora closed the book and stood from her table as she noticed Jorghan coming inside.
This was not the first time Sigora had prepared a ritual bath for him, though they had become less frequent as he grew older.
Sigora was a lot closer to Jorghan, and he spoke his mind when he was with her. Unlike her other children, she treated him with extra care because of what happened. He saw his parents being killed right in front of his eyes, and that pain – it was horrible for a five-year-old boy.
Still, Jorghan looked healthy now and was growing beyond what she expected.
"Did you bring the nymoriel leaves I asked?" Sigora asked, filling the wooden bowl with clear water from a crystal pitcher.
"Yes!" Jorghan reached into his small leather pouch tied at his waist. He carefully pulled out a bundle of silvery-blue leaves wrapped in cloth.
The nymoriel plant grew only on the underside of the floating islands, in places where sunlight filtered through the crystal veins. Harvesting them required skill—and in Jorghan's case, being small enough to navigate the narrow pathways beneath the island's main body.
Sigora took the leaves with a small smile. "Well gathered. These are at their peak potency."
She crushed several leaves between her six-fingered hands, releasing a sweet, minty aroma that filled the workhouse. The crushed leaves turned from silvery-blue to a deep indigo as she dropped them into the bowl of water.
The water immediately began to glow with a soft blue light.
"Come," she said, leading Jorghan through a door at the back of the workhouse.
The bathing chamber was simple but beautiful. Smooth stone formed a circular pool in the centre, large enough for a full-grown Nor'vack to lie in comfortably. The ceiling opened to the sky through a circular window that could be closed during storms. Now, with evening approaching, the first stars were becoming visible through the opening.