I jolted. “What? No.”
“Then get to it, Littlest Necromancer.”
“You arenotcalling me that.”
“Best get to it, then, hmm?”
I shook my head at him.
Then I shifted my stance and called my power in a controlled rush, my amber magic sparking on both upturned palms.
All right, got it.
Here we go.
I heard my dad make a sound, wanting to talk, but he stopped himself.
No backseat necromancing apparently.
Wow.
Time to live up to that faith he was showing in me.
And I could.
I knew I could.
I’d been doing so well with all of this—picking up the theory and even the complex spellwork much more easily than I’d thought I would be able to.
It just… felt right.
Part of me.
One I’d been denying myself, but was now meeting in full.
I called more power.
Not enough.
He’d said a mammoth amount was needed to hit the atmosphere and generate enough energy to call flash lightning. And even to then wield it accurately and for long enough to flood the area required.
My amber fire flamed.
Higher.
Higher still.
Something in me unlocked, and then it was shooting up into the sky tens of feet into the air, splitting the dark night under my might. Fucking blazing and blazing.
It tore through me—but not painfully. Quite the opposite.
It was like that amazing sensation from the time my dad had trained me to hold my power stream and escalate. But even beyond that.
And when the lightning sparked as a result, becoming sparks of lashing and blindingly bright and vicious flash lightning within seconds, it was another level altogether.
“Fuck…yes,”I choked.
Yes. Yes. Fucking yes!
