The grunt that escaped me wasn’t graceful, and my magic burst outward in a hiss of red sparks.
“You’re trying too hard,” Eiran said.
Of course, I’m trying too hard. It’s what I’ve built the foundation of my life upon.Another grunt built, but Brenton stepped in before I unleashed it.
“How do you fill the vial with your magic?” Brenton asked.
“I use the weight of the water to steady me.” I paused, trying to form the right words while my mind reeled. Could Brenton be onto something, though? Could I fill my lungs the same way Everly showed me to fill the vial? “I feel its weight and picture my magic misting into it.”
With his brows pulled together, he turned to Eiran. “Can she use the weight of her breath the same way?”
Alastor moved closer and spoke before Eiran could reply. “Why don’t we sit?” He gestured toward the shimmering ground.
With my knees weak from exhaustion, I did as he said, and Brenton settled close beside me.
“I want you to close your eyes, Finley,” Alastor instructed, his voice calm and certain. “Listen to my words, to my instructions, and try to do as I say. If you don’t get it right the first time or twentieth time, you’ll get it right on the twenty-first. You don’t have to rush. We can practice here as long as you want.”
My eyes snapped open. “What if it takes days for me to master this? What about the dragons?”
“Time moves differently here,” Eiran said. “Take as long as you need, and I’ll return you to the island only a few beats after you left.”
I clenched my fists, words bursting before I could swallow them. “Why can’t you do it?” I asked Eiran, my voice cracking but sharp. “Zaicha’s magic, my magic, they both come from you, right? You know your magic better than either of us. Can’t you stop her from killing?”
Heat burned in my throat. I couldn’t untangle the fury writhing in my chest.You could’ve been there,I wanted toscream.You could’ve helped me when I was drowning in my magic.
Not once had he stepped in. Not when my magic scared me or when the death of so many weighed on my very soul.
“Sadly, I cannot leave this realm.” Eiran’s voice carried, reverberating in my bones. His eyes dimmed. Not with weakness but with eternity, as entire centuries weighed upon him. “My dominion is in the astral realm. Every soul passes through me. If I stepped beyond its veil, chaos would rend the balance of death itself.” For a few beats, something achingly human flashed through the stern lines of his face. “Do not think I have not felt you suffering, child. Each time you broke, each time grief hollowed you out, I knew. And I—” His jaw tightened, holding back the words he was about to say. “Regret is not a thing a god clings to. Yet I carry it for you.”
His words struck me. He sounded so certain, so untouchable, cloaked in his eternal duty. A god weighed down by souls, too burdened to care for his daughters.
I didn’t want his regret. I wanted his presence, his answers.
But I swallowed it all down because I would not break down in front of him. He could watch me bleed from a distance as he’d always done.Being vulnerable takes trust, and I had yet to form that with Eiran. I wasn’t sure I ever would.
More importantly, I needed to master this lesson, so I turned back to Alastor.
“Okay.” I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm within. At my fingertips, my magic sparked, not wanting to be calmed when my thoughts were in turmoil.
“Take in a deep, slow breath,” Alastor said, his tone almost hypnotic. “Slow. Deep. Let the air stretch your lungs, press against your ribs, fill even the pit of your stomach. If it helps, place your hand there, feel the rise beneath your palm.”
I obeyed, laying my hand on my stomach as my breath swelled inside me.
“Now, exhale,” he said quietly. “Not in a rush. Let it leave through you, as if your whole body were a vessel, until nothing remains.”
My chest fell as I released it in a long, deliberate stream.
“This time, when you inhale, picture the threads of your magic braiding through the air in your lungs. Slowly, good,” he said.
My magic flowed, for a few beats, doing exactly as I asked before it spasmed inside me. Heat flared through my veins.
“That’s okay,” Alastor said. “You’re learning. Try not to strangle your magic. Imagine it as a tether. You don’t pull it, but guide it until it chooses to run through you.”
My magic brushed at my fingertips, like something deceptively soft.
“Let it glide around you,” Alastor said. “Then coax it back in.”
I swallowed, steadying myself with the sure rhythm of his words.
