I adjust the sleeves of the linen tunic clinging lightly to my skin. My soft leather pants stretch easily as I shift my stance. The chill morning wraps around me, but it does nothing for the heat already rising beneath my skin.
I stare at my hands, remembering the flames—how they licked up my arms without burning me. How they lunged toward Valen, like they wantedhim.
I don’t want to do this. But I have to. For my parents. For the world that is coming undone.
For myself.
I take a breath and reach for fire.
Nothing.
Valen watches me, arms folded, his silver-blue eyes knowing. “You’re holding back,” he says.
I tighten my fingers into fists. “I don’t want to lose control.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Then start small.”
I can do small.
I swallow hard, nodding.
He steps back, gesturing to the stone torch stand set up a few feet away. A simple task. A controlled environment. “Light it.”
I flex my fingers. The wind stirs gently around me, but it does nothing to cool the heat already rising under my skin. I close my eyes, pulling for the flame. Just a spark.
I feel it first in my palms, a flicker of warmth beneath my skin like something waiting. Watching. I focus, directing it toward my fingertips.
A small ember flares to life, hovering just above my palm. I blink at it, my breath hitching, but I don’t let it fade. I push slightly, feeding it, shaping it, letting it grow just enough, a flame, curling gently in the air.
I flick my wrist, sending it toward the torch. The fire catches instantly, licking up the dry wood, burning steady.
I stare at it, the heat from the flames warming my face. It worked. No chaos. No inferno. Just fire, controlled.
Valen nods. “Again.”
I bite back a sigh and try again.
This time the flame comes easier, sparking at my fingertips like it was always waiting for me to call it. I light the second torch, then the third. Each one catches; the flames obedient and predictable.
For the first time, the fire isn’t fighting me. It’sfollowing.
The last torch flickers to life, and I exhale slowly, my fingers still tingling with warmth. The fire is steady, controlled, just as it should be.
But I know what’s coming next. My body knows it too. Even before Valen speaks, anxiety coils low in my belly, a slow twisting heat, not quite pain but something close.
“Now,” he says, watching me closely, “try something bigger.”
I hesitate, my hands trembling as I close them into fists.Biggeris where I lose control. Where the fire stops listening.
Valen watches, reading the truth I haven’t said aloud. His voice is calm. Steady. Grounding.
“Breathe, Amara.”
I drag in a breath. It stutters.
“Again. Slowly.”
I inhale deeper. The cool air presses against the heat rising inside me.
