“Nell,” Sylara whispers, lightly squeezing my knee. “It's very important that you keep studying the book. The control you showed with Voronov was impressive, but also dangerous. You need to master your element consciously, not just by instinct.”
“Yes, Mom,” I respond, rolling my eyes dramatically, though deep down I appreciate her concern.
When it's time for me to leave, Althea walks me to the door while the elf picks up the dinner remains and Sabina locks herself in the bathroom, probably to hydrate, or grow her tail, or whatever sirens do. Maybe to think about Cherie.
“Be careful going home,” the Kobold warns me. “And if you need anything, anything at all, call us. By the way, are you okay?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Sabina...” she begins, but I interrupt her, raising my hand.
“I don't give a shit what the siren does, okay?” I lie.
Althea sighs.
“It's not what it seems, Nell. Sabina has her reasons to...”
“I don't want to know them,” I cut her off. “As far as I'm concerned, she can go swimming with Cherie if she wants. I don't care.”
Althea tilts her head slightly, as if listening to something I can't hear.
“The air around you says otherwise,” she observes with a wink.
I look around me confused and, indeed, small dust whirlwinds begin to form at my feet.
“Shit,” I mutter. “How do I control this? I can't create something like this every time I get nervous.”
“By studying. The book will help you, if you give it a chance.”
“Okay, okay. I'll read the damn book. Though it still seems much more practical for an old man to show up and explain it to me like in all the movies.”
“Some things must be learned in solitude,” she murmurs. “But we'll be here if you need us,” she adds, before turning on her heels and leaving me alone.
**
Back in my apartment, Colt has fallen asleep on the couch with the TV on. He has sauce on his chin and snores lightly. He reminds me of when we were kids, when we'dsneak to watch horror movies after the caregivers went to sleep.
Carefully, I place a blanket over his shoulders and turn off the TV. I wonder what he'd think of all this: magic, sirens, elves, Fae... Probably, he'd think I've gone crazy. And maybe he'd be mostly right.
Already in my room, I put on a T-shirt that's too big for me and lie on the bed with the heavy book about Air Elementals. I still don't understand anything at all.
“The Breath of the Wind,” I read. “An air elemental doesn't control the element: they collaborate with it. Air is freedom, movement, constant change. To master it, first you must let yourself be carried by it.”
I let out a long blow of desperation. It sounds like one of those philosophical shit things, pure garbage.
I try one of the simplest exercises. I close my eyes, breathe, and focus on the air entering and leaving my lungs. I imagine that each exhalation forms a small whirlwind in front of me.
When I open my eyes again, my heart skips several beats. A few inches from my face, a small sphere of air floats. It's the size of a marble, but it's there, and I created it.
Okay, it might not be practically useful, but still, I created it, and that makes me feel important.
“Fuck,” I mutter through my teeth, extending a finger to touch it.
The sphere dissolves. I try to recreate it, though exhaustion prevents me from concentrating. My eyelids are heavy, and before I know it, I fall asleep with the book open on my lap.
And I dream of endless oceans and green eyes watching me from the depths. I dream of arms surrounding my waist underwater, of parted lips that taste of salt when they kiss me.
I dream of Sabina.
