Ananke, Mistress of Coffee and stuff

Cyrus took a step away from Anne, his eyes widened. "I can't do magic," he said, "I don't even think I believe in it. It's not possible." He shook his head. This was getting worse and worse.

Anne regarded him coolly. "Boy, it doesn't matter if you believe in it or not. I can see it in you, I can feel it. It's there. If you look hard, you'll see it too. Just like you heard the trees."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Cyrus felt like his whole world was spinning around, rearranging itself.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why me? And how?"

Anne sat on the cold grass, patted a spot in front of her. "Sit down, Cyrus. Let me show you something."

Looking at the damp grass, Cyrus shrugged his shoulders. Why not? He sat down, ignoring the uncomfortable patch of wetness. 

"Close your eyes."

He did as she asked. 

"Now picture yourself sitting there exactly as you are. Imagine every detail, every feeling, every sound and smell. See it as if you are looking at it."

He pictured himself sitting cross-legged in the park, looking somewhat cold and sheepish. He spent time getting the picture just right in his mind. He was concentrating on it so hard that at some point his conscious thought stopped and he was floating over his own body.

As Anne spoke, he saw her mouth move, saw her shift her position.

"Look really hard at yourself, Cyrus. There's a glow there, if you look close enough. It's in every fibre of your being."

He looked closer at himself and saw she was right. There was a faint light coming from him. It was subtle, barely visible really, but definitely there. If he squinted his eyes, or whatever was doing the job of his eyes, he could see it better. 

He moved closer, saw that there was something moving through him. Like a thread made of light, appearing and disappearing into his body. He turned that same focus to Anne. She didn't just glow, she burned. 

White hot light poured from her. His body was racked with a shock of pain and his eyes sprung open. He was sitting on the grass again, with a cold ass. The sudden transition gave him vertigo.

Anne was opposite, eyes open. Staring. "You shouldn't try that on me. It's not a good idea."

His forehead wrinkled in thought. "What was that thread thing?"

"That was the beginning. The apple she gave you, it's given you a portion of her power, a small portion, but it will grow if you want it to."

"So I can do magic?" He could barely believe it. "I mean actual magic?"

"You always could, Cyrus. You just never believed in it. This though, this gives you an affinity for it, a gift."

"Can you teach me to use it?" He asked her, his tone hopeful.

"Me? No, of course not. But why would you want me to when you have her? She'd be a better teacher than I could ever be."

"Thalia?"

Anne leaned forwards and slapped the side of his head, then pushed herself up. "You got a clod of earth in there instead of a brain?" She began to walk back to her cart. "Of course Thalia."

As she walked away the old lady was shaking her head, muttering to herself. Cyrus put his shoes back on, stood and went to follow her. He wasn't sure he understood.

"You're tied to her now, Cyrus. You have a seed of her power. She will teach you how to use it and what you do with it is up to you. This much is certain though." She stopped and turned on him. "There's no going back now. The man who attacked you wasn't alone and his friends will come looking for him. For you."

Her words sent a chill down his spine. 

"Who was he? I know you know."

They walked to the cart and Anne sat on her old stool. "They call themselves The Undertower. Stupid name if you ask me. Tasked themselves with stopping people from using magic a long time ago."

"But that guy was using magic!" Cyrus protested.

"Exactly, they're hypocrites. Power hungry hypocrites. You can't let them get that tree, Cyrus, or the world is doomed."

"I…" He considered what he'd been through so far, thinking about the way he'd come to the tree, about Thalia, and about the fight he'd had. If those men represented this tower, he didn't want them having it. "I won't," he said with conviction.

The old lady smiled. "Good. Can I ask you a small favour?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Sure."

"Would you summon her here, I'd like to meet her." She clasped her hands in her lap, wringing them. The only outward sign of any kind of nervousness he'd seen from her so far.

"I can't just summon someone, that's…" He wasn't sure what it was, but he was pretty sure he couldn't do it.

"Just say her name and she'll come. I promise you're both safe here."

It was already a day of firsts for Cyrus: First time seeing magic, first time being beaten almost to death, first time eating a magic apple. What was a little summoning to that?

"Thalia?" he whispered, "Um, can you come here?"

There were no flashes of light or puffs of smoke, just a voice; "Cyrus!"

He turned around and found her standing behind him, beautiful as before, smiling like nothing at all bad could ever happen. "Thalia?" he said. "That worked?" 

"I was listening for you," she said. "Waiting."

He moved to the side to introduce her to Anne. Was about to tell her who the old lady was, when Thalia's eyes widened in shocked recognition. She dropped to one knee, head bowed. 

"Ananke," she whispered. "I am honoured." Her voice was hushed, reverent. 

Cyrus looked at Anne, who pushed herself off the stool, waving her hands. "Oh please, stop. You're embarrassing me. I'm just an old woman now."

Thalia looked up at Anne, shook her head. Cyrus saw fear in her eyes.

"Oh, very well." Anne hobbled around the cart and lay a hand on Thalia's head. "Rise, Child. You have done me due honour," she said. Adding: "And seriously, I'm just another old lady here."