I take a slow breath, grounding myself. The mound of earth still stands before me, uneven and rough, a raw display of power.
I frown. “What do you mean—control it?”
He gestures to the raised section of earth. “It isn’t just about lifting and dropping. It’s about intention. Right now, this is instinct. But instinct alone won’t help you shape a battlefield, stabilize terrain, or defend yourself in combat.”
I clench my fists, the weight of the moment settling on me. This is more than just proving I can do it. This is about mastery.
Valen gestures again. “Try again. This time, shape it into something useful.”
I exhale and shake out my hands. Let the tension drain.
Then I reach.
The earth responds, rolling beneath my feet, waiting. I picture a wall—not just for show, but for protection. Something solid. A barrier that couldhold.
The mound tightens, sharpens, the rough edges smoothing as it compresses into something denser, taller, more defined. I feel the shift in weight, the way the soil compacts and hardens at my command. It takes more focus, more precision, but it listens.
A soft intake of breath behind me. One of the soldiers, maybe. They’re watching.
Valen nods, subtle but sure. “Better.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s harder than I thought.”
“That’s because Earth doesn’t obey. Itpartners.You don’t push it into place—youstand with it. Too much pressure, and it’ll crack. Too little, and it collapses.”
I run a hand along the wall. It’s different now. Not something dragged up from the ground—but somethingmeantto stand.
Then—crack. The wall collapses in on itself, the once-solid mass crumbling back into loose dirt.
I curse softly, stepping back as the dust rises into the air.
The murmurs behind me grow louder. I can feel their watchful eyes, hear their whispered questions.
Valen, however, doesn’t react. He simply says, “Again.”
I wipe my palms on my tunic. Iwillget this right.
I press my fingers into the dirt, feeling the remnants of what I had built. I reach for it—not forcing, but guiding, like Valen said.
I picture the foundation first, the weight evenly distributed. The ground moves with me, shaping more smoothly, more deliberately.
I don’t just build a wall this time. I anchor it.
I step back, heart pounding, hands tingling from the energy still humming beneath my skin. Before me stands a wall of earth—solid, dense, real. It stretches ten feet across, six feet high, thick with compacted soil and stone. The surface is rough,uneven, but it holds.
I reach out, pressing my palm against it. The texture is firm, stable, and cool to the touch.
Valen steps forward, inspecting the structure. He presses a hand against it, testing its mass.
“This will hold,” he says, voice even.
I exhale slowly, letting the moment sink in. I didn’t just move the earth this time.
I commanded it.
But then, a crack splinters through the surface. Again. The entire structure collapses inward, the dirt giving way like sand slipping between my fingers. A cloud of dust rises, and frustration twists sharp in my gut.
Valen simply says, “Again.”
