I launch fire, cut it clean, switch to air—too fast. The gust is sharp, uncontrolled.
I clench my teeth. Try again.
Earth. Water. Air. The cycle spins faster, cleaner—still not smooth enough.
Valen watches in silence, arms crossed, waiting for me to catch my own mistake.
When I stumble between water and air, a hiss of steam fills the air. Finally, Valen speaks.
“You’re rushing.”
I exhale hard, trying to shake the tension from my limbs. “I’m trying to be fast.”
“No,” he says, calm as ever. “You’re letting emotion drive you.Again. That’s not control—it’s desperation.”
He steps forward, infuriatingly calm. “Your magics listen to your breath, Amara. If your heart races, if your thoughts scatter, so will your power. Whatever’s happening—in the realm, in your life, in your head—you set it aside. Align yourself first, then your magics will follow.”
I inhale. Release slow. But the frustration clings like heat beneath my skin. “That’s easier said than done.”
He steps closer. “Again. But this time, forget speed and think about intent. Each Element has purpose. Feel the shift—don’t force it.”
I drag my fingers through my hair and close my eyes.
Breathe in. Center. Breathe out. Focus.
The chaos doesn’t vanish—but I shove it into a room in my mind and slam the door. I know I’ll have to deal with that mess later, but for now, my magics stir—not wild, not reckless, but waiting. I reach again, slower this time, more deliberate.
Fire into air. Air into earth. Earth into water. My magics follows—focused now. Controlled. I keep going. Faster this time, but steady.
Valen nods. “Better. Now, hold it. Feel it. Be present. You control your magics. Not the other way around.”
Two days.
Two days of festering. Of avoiding Thane. Of feeling him nearby but refusing to acknowledge it.
Jarek instructed me to meet on the training field today—combat and magics drills. I turn when I hear boots crunching on gravel, expecting Jarek. But it isn’t him.
It’s Thane.
And everything I’ve been trying to bury—anger, resentment, shame—rises all at once.
I brace for impact.
But then he smiles—warm, genuine. Like he’s happy to seeme. It only stokes the heat already burning in my chest.
I cross my arms, voice sharp. “The nobles must have left.”
Thane’s smile falters. He studies me, searching for something in my expression—trying to gauge why I’m cold.
As if he doesn’t know.
“Not yet,” he says evenly. “But I thought I’d make time for you. They’re nearly gone—Elaris is seeing them off.”
His words strike something in me—something I don’t want to name. Bitterness churns with it.
Of course he can stand there like nothing ever happened.
I roll my shoulders, forcing the tension out. “Then let’s get started.”
