FORTY-EIGHT #3
“Well, Spiritborn. This is where we part.” He sweeps a hand through the air. “You go be the brilliantly gifted wielder. I will go be devastatingly handsome.”
“Sounds exhausting,” I deadpan.
“For some, perhaps.”
Before turning away, he lifts a hand and circles his fingers. A soft breeze stirs around me, teasing loose strands of hair across my shoulders.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not when I’m around you.”
I cross my arms. “One day, your ego’s going to float off on the wind.”
“And what a sight that’ll be.”
He steps back with a wink and turns down his path, throwing a lazy wave over his shoulder.
I watch him go before turning toward Valen’s chambers, the smile still lingering on my lips. Not because of Kieran’s charm, but because I can feel the pieces beginning to align.
A short time later, I sit in Valen’s quarters, a cup of tea warming my hands.
The room is quiet. The scent of parchment and dried herbs hangs in the air, soft and earthy. Candlelight flickers along the stone walls, casting shadows that sway with every movement of the flame.
I’ve just told him everything about Kieran, the crest, and the name his family once carried: Vhael.
Valen leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable as he absorbs it all. For several moments, neither of us speaks.
Finally, he exhales, eyes narrowing with thought. “If the ledger still exists, and his family was involved in hiding it . . . ”
“Then someone in his bloodline might still know the truth,” I finish.
Valen considers the information for a long moment before giving a single nod. “Then the next step is clear. We go to the Air Clan region, and we take Kieran with us.”
I set my cup down carefully. “If his family has protected this secret for generations, we need to understand why before we start revealing what we know.”
“Which is why we don’t.” Valen taps a finger against the desk.
“We frame it as research. History. Let him think he’s helping us uncover something forgotten, not something deliberately buried.
Right now we have a crest, a name, and a possibility.
That’s not enough to place the weight of generations on someone’s shoulders. ”
“And if his family still has it?”
Valen’s expression hardens.
“Then we need to understand what they know before word spreads.”
“Why?”
“Because if the ledger says what we think it says, it doesn’t just change our understanding of the Shadow Wars.” He pauses. “It changes everything.”
The silence that follows feels different. Focused rather than heavy, with the quiet clarity that comes when a path forward finally reveals itself.
Valen rises and crosses to the window.
“For months we’ve been chasing fragments, rumors, and half-buried references.”
He looks back at me.
“This is the first real lead we’ve had.”
Later, we walk to one of the quieter training fields, a stretch of green tucked beside a still pond. The water reflects the pale autumn sky, rippling gently in the breeze. The scent of grass and damp earth fills the air, laced with distant smoke from the forges.
Valen carries a blanket for another practice session of Second Breath. I have been practicing daily since that first session and it’s been coming easier to me.
We settle onto the grass. The earth is cool beneath us. Overhead, a rush of wind carries the sound of beating wings as dragons rise from the cliffs, their cries fading into the sky.
Closer, the shouts of soldiers sparring and the snap of bowstrings drift from the main training fields. But here, beside the pond, there is quiet.
Valen closes his eyes, his posture straight and composed.
“Breathe,” he says.
I do.
Air fills my lungs. On the exhale, I turn my focus inward. The dragon bond dims—not gone, only quieter. The pressure of other thoughts, the pull of the world beyond myself, softens until only my mind and my magics remain.
The world slips away, still present, but distant. A tide pulling back from the shore. This practice isn’t just stillness anymore. It’s the channel I’ve carved through the flood.
Before, my magics moved through me unchecked, especially after bonding with Calryx. The power came in floods, roared like wildfire, and I welcomed every bit of it.
My thoughts drift back to the night of the ball, the moment everything changed. One instant there had been silk and laughter beneath chandeliers. The next there had been shadow, steel, and blood.
I fought. We all did. But I reached too deep.
Calryx answered, and her power poured through me until the line between control and destruction vanished. I would have gone too far if Thane hadn’t stopped me.
That was the moment I understood something had to change. This isn’t power I can simply carry. It has to be shaped, guided, and balanced.
Now, I feel the difference. The pull is still there, deep and vast, but it doesn’t own me anymore. I’ve learned how to quiet the storm. I’ve learned how to choose.
Valen’s voice carries through the stillness. “Close your eyes. Feel the ground beneath you. The air around you. The energy beneath your skin.”
I reach for the bond.
It stirs in response, familiar and immediate. A second heartbeat. Calryx’s presence is there, vast and sure.
The magics unspools. A thread of deep sapphire and silver, shimmering like liquid starlight. It burns and cools at once, too large to hold and yet somehow mine. It pulses through me like a river, moving between calm and current, storm and stillness. It doesn’t demand.
It offers.
And I choose what to take.
The moment lingers, and the channeling slowly changes.
The tide begins to rise.
Power gathers beneath my skin. Fire answers, bright and fast. Wind follows, spiraling around it. Then water, heavy and fluid, drawn into the current. Earth answers last, solid and enduring, holding the edges together.
For a moment, it threatens to overwhelm me. My pulse quickens. The old flicker of panic presses at the edges of my thoughts.
But I don’t run from it.
I hold the breath.
The magics respond.
The wave crests but doesn’t crash. Instead, it folds inward and settles beneath my skin, controlled and waiting. Mine.
Valen’s voice is low, edged with approval. “You felt it rise and you didn’t let it overtake you.”
I open my eyes, the air still humming with power. “Not this time.”
Valen nods. “Now visualize channeling the Elements separately. Start with fire.”
I focus.
Fire comes first, crimson and gold, flickering like molten silk. It twists with restless energy, but remains contained.
“Good,” Valen remarks, studying the filament of fire moving around me. “Now, earth.”
A strand of green and brown emerges, dense and enduring. It anchors everything around it.
“Air.”
Silver and pale blue follow, shifting and fluid. Never still. Never confined. It doesn’t push. It surrounds.
“Water.”
Dark blue and translucent white weave through the others, reflective and flowing, moving with quiet purpose.
“Now . . . merge them.”
I draw the threads together.
Fire and air coil together, fierce and wild, glowing orange and silver. Earth and water follow, dense and fluid, moving in rhythm. Together, they braid, colors twisting and threads blending. They are no longer separate, but neither are they lost.
They do not become one shade. They move and pulse with a life of their own.
Not chaos.
Balance.
I exhale, watching the tapestry of magics shimmer.
Valen’s voice reaches me, quiet and certain.
“That is what true power looks like, Amara.” He considers me again and adds, “The realm has waited a long time for this.”
I glance at him and laugh softly, unable to stop myself. “Valen . . . that felt incredible.”
A lightness settles in my chest, as though something I’ve been carrying for far too long has finally eased. Everything feels still.
And for the first time in a very long time, so do I.