To test Martinus' theory, my uncle took me to a room in the basement, a big, empty, windowless hall with a big stone in the middle. I had the same sensation in the mouth I usually had in the Magic Energy class; the air felt viscous, sticky, and my hands felt like they were covered in honey.
Martinus stayed at the door of the hall, not coming in.
"I'm not a Morad," he explained. "And the energy is really, really, concentrated here."
"But you do fine in the Academy," I pointed out.
"The energy in the Academy is more neutral," Martinus said. "Whereas here, it is a lot more specialized. Attuned to your family's blood and magic. It won't do me any good."
I looked at my uncle, who nodded, confirming what Martinus was saying. He looked perfectly comfortable here, walking around the room with
