Chapter 20 Control
“Channel your magic,” Shakari said sharply.
“Control it. You’re letting it control you.
” I stood in the Hall of Mirrors, anger scorching my nerves, frustration knotting my fists.
Every time I shaped my flame, it flared wildly, fueled by raw emotion, not will.
Shakari and Ugo circled, eyes sharp, their corrections bouncing off the stone wall I’d built inside.
Once again, my magic was leading me instead of the other way around, all because I couldn’t shake the memory of what happened and my stubborn need to prove I could master this, if only to myself.
My thoughts kept slipping, back beyond the Veil.
Scorched smoke, cold steel, roaring dragon fire, the wildweaver and the ache of it all.
Yet the island carried on, untouched. Classes continued, meals served and laughter pierced the hush.
There were no announcements, no warnings, and no press.
One of the Veil posts had fallen, and no one was meant to know.
The court would bury it, of course. Fear was a contagion.
The less the island knew, the easier it was to rule.
Now, standing in the Hall of Mirrors, I forced those memories down, determined to refocus. I had something to prove, not just to Shakari and Ugo, but to myself and I couldn’t afford distractions here.
“Again,” Ugo said calmly.
I drew a breath and lifted my hands.
Focus. Control. Precision.
The flame sparked, then wavered, shuddering as my thoughts slipped once more.
I locked my jaw.
I swore I would not lose control again, fury and humiliation knotting inside me like a second heartbeat.
The vow settled, quiet and unyielding. The Hall of Mirrors seemed to respond. Light bent along curved walls, reflections warping as our group moved into familiar drills under watchful counselors.
Across the vast chamber, other Dragontail first-years were already warming up. Fists glowed. Heat rippled through the air. Bursts of flame and shadow hummed as students tested their limits, pushing harder with the Trials looming closer each day.
Ugo circled like a predator, eyes sharp, presence commanding. Without raising his voice, he cut through the magic’s clamor. Every few moments, he barked a correction or flicked his wrist, adjusting a stance, a breath, a hesitation.
This was where control was earned.
“Don’t just throw it—shield, counter, redirect,” Ugo commanded, his voice echoing off the mirrored walls. “Every blast you send leaves you wide open unless you learn to protect yourself.”
Shakari’s braid had half come undone, gold strands catching the light like fine wire. She raised her hand, water coiling around her fingers, the surface rippling with heat.
“Protect first,” Ugo echoed, his voice calm but edged with command like a blade pressed flat against the back of my neck. “Then strike.”
“You can do it,” Shakari encouraged me.
I drew the fire from my core, heat pulsing up my arms, ready to meet her attack.
The blast came fast. Water laced with steam and force. I tried to shape a shield of fire and light, but the magic slipped through my control. The impact hit me square in the chest, drenching me from shoulder to boots.
I exhaled sharply, fury burning hotter than my failed spell. Shakari grinned, infuriatingly calm.
From the shadows, Ugo’s voice cut through the room. “You’re letting your head win over your hands. Lose focus, lose the fight.”
There was a brief pause, enough to mean something. His tone softened, just a fraction, and that restraint made his next words land harder.
“I don’t need to be a mind-bender to see your thoughts are elsewhere,” he said. “Stop replaying what happened. Start preparing for what comes next.”
My fingers curled into my palms. “Easy for you to say,” I shot back. “You’re not the one tripping over herself like a firebomb.”
The words came out sharper than I meant. Bitterness lingered, wrong the moment it escaped.
Guilt followed fast. Ugo wasn’t the enemy. If anything, he was the only one among the counselors who seemed to genuinely want me to improve, helping me even though it wasn’t his responsibility.
“You are the hardest student on the island!” Ugo said with a bit of frustration, but I could sense he was amused by the situation.
“Then let me teach her,” a voice cut in, sharp. The words curled through the room as they belonged here, like they had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I knew the voice before I turned. Everyone did.
Lorik Draventh appeared right from behind me. Sunlight traced the line of his shoulders; the scent of rain lingered around him, subtle but impossible to miss. Silver shimmering eyes. Unhurried posture. And that quiet and dangerous smile that made the air feel a little thinner.
“Oh, hell no.... I prefer Mr. Inner Peace here,” I said, my tone edged and unamused.
Shakari snorted. Ugo let out a low chuckle. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the faintest flicker on Lorik’s mouth like he almost laughed but strangled it before it escaped.
“You forget I’m still your counselor,” Lorik said.
Then he stepped closer and lowered his voice, the words meant for me alone. “You were reckless enough to jump beyond the Veil and bargain with a wildweaver but you won’t face me here? In the Hall of Mirrors, where you can’t actually die?”
A shiver cut straight through my spine at the quiet, devastating challenge in his whisper. Anger erupted, crashing into irritation, tangled with a longing I couldn’t name. Whatever it was, my composure splintered, as it always did around him.
“I said no,” I snapped, the refusal bursting out of me on instinct.
From behind, a voice cut the tension.
"Miss Solenhart, practice with your counselor," Professor Hog snapped. "I didn’t approve the change. You’ve only trained with Counselor Ugo Zeyu. Follow orders. This isn’t Emberkeep or your court."
“If you really hurt her, Moonveil,” Shakari warned, pointing a finger at Lorik, “I’ll crush your soul and everyone you love.”
Her braid swung behind her as she stalked toward the edge of the mirrored hall.
“For the sake of Solvir,” I muttered. I was out of options.
Ugo and Shakari stepped aside, standing on the edge of the Hall of Mirrors. This was practice, not combat, but everyone already knew better.
And this time and for the first time, the fear that had always tangled my chest, squeezed my lungs until I could barely breathe, simply... melted away, leaving something fierce and clear in its place.
The mirrored walls caught a dozen Loriks and a hundred of me, bending light until I wasn’t sure which version of myself was real.
His hands were loose, boots whispering on the mirror floor.
“Guard,” he said, voice calm but edged with challenge. “Breathe.”
I summoned light to my palms until it shimmered over my knuckles. “I’m breathing.”
"That’s Emberkeep breathing," he said, tilting his head, a faint smirk on his lips. "All restraint and tension. Dragontail forges emotion into power. Want strength? Stop controlling your feelings. Use them."
“Why?” I shot back. “So, I burn out faster? Easier for you to win?”
His eyes flickered, silver catching the light. “If I wanted to win,” he said evenly, “you’d already be on the floor.”
That didn’t help.
“Do it,” he ordered. The air thickened. Shadows unfurled along the mirrored walls, rippling like smoke come alive. Lightning threaded through them, precise and waiting. He didn’t strike first. He wanted to see how I’d move.
I released a burst of flame. It hit his shadows, scattering in a spray of sparks.
He countered instantly, stepping into my blind side and sending a low bolt that forced me to twist away.
“You say you hate me, that you’re going to show me ruthless,” he called out, shadows coiling at his heels, “but I see no hate in your fire. No rage. Again.”
I flared my flames wide along my arms, sparks snapping off my skin.
“You keep insisting you’re different from your family,” he said, stepping closer, voice low and goading. “Then prove it.”
“You really do know how to push my buttons,” I snapped back, heat rising through my chest. His smirk sharpened, like that had been the goal all along.
“I could say the same about you, Princess,” he responded with an unmistakable small smirk.
I skidded back, heat clawing up my arms. I raised both hands and threw another strike, this one from the pit of my chest. The flare cut the air like a blade of sunlight. Lorik pivoted through it, catching the edge with his forearm. The clash sent gold and pink light scattering across the floor.
“Better,” he said, almost approving.
"Just better…" I started, but he was already moving. He’d only give me a small win.
Lightning cracked from his fingers, white-hot and sharp. I met it head-on, fire against electric light. The impact split the air in two. My light fractured. Shadow poured through the gaps, devouring half of it before I could reform the core.
“Focus, Princess!” His voice cut through the roar. “Feel everything—rage, fear, grief. That’s power.”
I hesitated, then heard my mother’s commands for restraint and perfection. And I let go.
Magic tore through me, pure and wild. Fire surged from my spine to my fingertips as I swung forward, unleashing a spiral of flame and light. It crashed into his field with a thunderous sound.
Lorik braced. The floor cracked under his boots. His shadows rose to meet my fire, colliding midair in a burst of gold and indigo. The blast sent waves of heat across the mirrored hall.
He pushed again, shadow expanding, expanding lightning spearing through the blaze. I pushed back harder, heart hammering, the world collapsing into light and dark. Only him. No mirrors. No audience.
“Good!” he shouted through the noise. “Now, control it!”
I clenched my jaw, drawing the magic inward. The flames tightened, forming a golden shield around me. His lightning struck it, ricocheted, and that could shatter all the glass along the walls if they weren’t imbued with ancient magic.
Lorik stepped through the haze, eyes gleaming, shadow curling from his fingers. “Now attack.”
I did.
We collided, magic against magic, a surge of heat and shadow that split the air open. His darkness struck from above, mine blazed from below, and for one suspended breath we hung between them—sun and night, fire and void, burning and breaking in equal measure.
Then came the explosion. The Hall shuddered as a ring of fire erupted from my hands, a flare so fierce it drowned the world in gold. For an instant, there was no darkness, no shape, no sound, only light. I had done it. The brightest, fiercest blaze I had ever summoned.
When the flames ebbed, I found myself on my knees, smoke rising from my palms. Across the floor, Lorik stood untouched; his silhouette edged in shadows. He had shielded himself. Shadows coiled around him like armor, perfect and unbroken.
I’d given everything I had, poured every ounce of fire into that one strike. And still, he was standing. My magic was gone, my body trembling with exhaustion but even as the last embers faded, a wild spark of pride flared inside me. I had done it.
He walked toward me slowly, shadows dimming around his hands.
“Not bad,” he said quietly.
I looked down at my hands, still trembling, and heat bleeding into the floor. “Not bad? That’s all you will say? I gave everything I had.”
“You might not be able to beat me yet or maybe ever,” Lorik said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “But this is a good start.”
Lorik then extended his hand toward me, wordless and unwavering.
I stared at it, jaw tight.
Even after everything he’d helped me channel my magic, after he’d seen I was more than a Solenhart. I wasn’t taking his hand.
I would stand on my own.
Every muscle screamed as I pushed myself upward. My knees trembled, smoke curling from my fingertips, exhaustion clinging to my lungs, but I still rose. Stubborn to the bone. I could have used the help. I might have even wanted the help. But I didn’t take it.
And I didn’t look away from him once.
He stood just inches away.
“You are so self-centered, you really think I could never beat you?” I asked with an edge of challenge.
“I’m just being realistic,” he said. “You’re not going to beat me. But maybe next time you’ll learn how to control your magic in front of a wildweaver and you’ll definitely be able to scorch your boyfriend’s ass when you decide to defend a commoner.”
This time, he actually smiled. He didn’t bother hiding it, as if he genuinely believed this was the highest praise he could offer.
And I knew exactly what he was referring to. He’d seen, just like everyone else, the moment I stood between Jan and Thalen when Thalen’s superiority and jealousy had boiled over, and I refused to let him treat a commoner like he was beneath him. Lorik had also watched all of it.
This didn’t mean we were anywhere close to resolving our differences. We were still miles apart on the scale of loathing and for reasons neither of us could deny. But this… this was something else. A shift. A hairline fracture in the story he’d already written about me.
I had proven him wrong.
I wasn’t cruel.
I wasn’t my family.
I believed commoners weren’t less than nobles.
And I cared deeply about fairness, about who was protected and who was discarded.
His gaze stayed on mine, steady and unflinching, as if he were searching for cracks. For lies. Instead, something in his expression softened for just a fraction like the ground beneath him had tilted, and he was trying to regain his balance with this version of me he hadn’t prepared for.
The scent of honey and jasmine hit me then, sharp and intoxicating beneath the sweat and heat of the fight.
Too close. Too familiar. His breath brushed my cheek, inviting me to step closer, to do something reckless, something unforgivable.
It stirred something vicious in me. An urge to step forward and erase that infuriating smile from his devastatingly beautiful face.
Then, from the far end of the hall, Professor Hog’s voice sliced through the thinning magic. “Impressive,” he said, almost pleased. “Now you see why my pairing makes sense.”