Chapter 6 #4
“Stop fighting against it,” Valen continues, stepping closer. “Stop panicking. Stop thinking about what you can’t do. Flow with it.”
How do you stop panicking when you’re in the middle of a panic?!
My breath is sharp, uneven. I force a slow exhale.
The water shifts.
I stop resisting—and instead of spiraling out of control, the magics settles. The towering wave doesn’t collapse. It curves. The droplets spinning wildly around me slow, drifting back toward the lake. The storm I created calms.
And finally, the surface stills.
I sway on my feet, my pulse hammering, exhaustion sweeping through me like an undertow. Valen catches my arm before I can fall.
I gasp for breath, eyes locked on the lake.
It looks . . . untouched. As if none of it ever happened.
But it did.
I turn to Valen, my voice raw. “What—what was that?”
He meets my gaze, the gleam in his eyes undeniable.
“That,” he says softly, “was proof.”
My stomach knots. “Proof of what?”
His eyes harden—flint-sharp, certain. “That you’re more than just an Earth Wielder. And not only do you wield, you channel.”
I am still gasping for breath, my heart racing as the last ripples of water fade into the lake. My arms tremble from the strain of reigning in the magics.
My body is lead-heavy, my head spinning. Every instinct screams to push back—snap something sharp, tell him enough.
Then—
A drop lands on my hand.
Red.
I blink, lift my fingers to my face. They come away bloody.
I stare down, stunned. Disbelieving.
“It happens sometimes,” Valen says, his voice calm, reassuring. “When a powerful wielder channels for the first time. A bloody nose. A headache. Sometimes—if not careful—a blackout.”
His eyes soften, steady. “Your body will adjust with practice.”
But the part of me that’s still shaking—the part that just tasted something I don’t fully understand—hesitates.
“Valen, I—”
“You can,” he interrupts, sharp but calm. Certain. “And you will. Now wield Air.”
I rake a hand through my damp hair. The wind lifts around us—cool and crisp. I glance at the open fields, the empty horizon. We are far from the outpost. I understand why now. Because if I lose control again—if Air is anything like Earth or Water—we’ll need the space.
I swallow hard. “I don’t even know how to try.”
“You said the same about Water,” Valen reminds me. “And yet, the lake nearly swallowed us whole.”
I scowl. “That’s not comforting.”
He smirks slightly, but there is no amusement in his eyes. “You’re hesitating again.”
“Because I don’t know how to—”
“Stop saying that.” His voice is firm, but not unkind. “You think too much. You try to force control. That’s not how this works.”
I look away, jaw tight.
The wind shifts. Leaves rustle along the edge of the clearing. Cool air brushes over my skin, lifts strands of my hair soft, insistent.
“Air is not like Earth or Water,” Valen continues. “It’s not solid. It’s not something you touch or see. It’s something you feel.”
He steps in front of me, holding my gaze. “Close your eyes.”
I hesitate—then obey.
I don’t know if I believe in any of this. But something inside me—something deeper than logic—is leaning forward. Reaching.
I see my parents in flashes—dream-memories I don’t fully understand. I hear that voice again, calling.
The world sharpens. Without sight, everything else expands. I hear the wind threading through the trees, whispering across the field. I feel it curl along my arms, brush my clothes, circle my body like it’s waiting.
Alive.
“Air is freedom,” Valen murmurs. “Movement. Weightlessness. It doesn’t hold you down. It lifts you.”
His voice fades.
The wind is calling.
And it knows me.
“Now,” Valen says, voice barely above a breath, “reach for it.”
I inhale. And the wind answers.
A sudden gust explodes outward from me, roaring through the clearing, bending the trees at their trunks. The air howls, wild and untethered, sending dust and leaves spiraling into a storm.
“Don’t fight it!” Valen shouts over the wind. “Feel it! Move with it!”
My eyes snap open—and I’m no longer on the ground.
I’m floating!
Holy hell!
Air rushes past my ears, my clothes ripple, my hair whips wildly around my face. I hover several feet above the field, weightless, caught in the current.
My stomach lurches.
Then the air drops me.
Panic floods my chest. I flail, grasping at nothing. Gravity yanks me down—
“Breathe, Amara! Feel it! Let it carry you!”
I hear him, but it’s a blur—until something inside me sharpens.
A memory. A dream. That warmth in my chest. My parents. The voice. The call.
Not panic. Purpose.
And just before I hit the ground, it catches me. The air cushions me, slowing my descent, placing me back on the ground.
I land hard, knees buckling, breath knocked from my lungs. And then, as suddenly as the gale came, it drops away.
The sound of distant voices reaches my ears.
Footsteps crunch against the dry grass. I glance up, and beyond the trees, I see them—soldiers.
A few at first, then more. They must have heard the wind, felt the shift in the air.
They watch from the edges of the clearing, their faces either full of wonder or wariness.
Lyra steps forward, arms crossed, one brow raised, Garrick beside her, grinning like it’s a holiday.
“That’s my girl,” Lyra calls, smirking.
“Alright, that was officially unfair,” Garrick adds, folding his arms. “You get wings now? What’s next—breathing fire?”
And then there’s Thane. He stands slightly apart from the others, his gaze locked on me. His expression is unreadable—but something flickers behind his eyes. Sharp. Calculating.
The clearing looks almost untouched—except for the stripped branches, the scattered leaves. I still feel the faint electricity humming under my skin.
Valen lets out a low whistle. “Well,” he mutters, “at least you didn’t break your neck.”
My head jerks up. “I was floating.”
His lips twitch. “You were.”
I press my hands into the dirt and push myself upright. My limbs are shaking, but I’m standing.
“You fought it at first,” Valen says, stepping closer. “Then you let go. That’s when it caught you.”
He meets my eyes.
“Air doesn’t respond to force,” he says. “It responds to trust. In it and yourself.”
Earth had been unshakable. Water, overwhelming. But Air—Air lifted me. Then let me go. And for a moment, I didn’t fall.
I can still feel it—lingering in my veins, waiting to be called again. And for the first time, I want to. Not just because Valen tells me to, not because of the dreams, but because I can feel something in me waking up.
And I need to know what it means.
I swallow hard. “What’s happening to me?”
Valen exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s what we’re going to find out. The last element is Fire.”
The clearing is silent. The soldiers are still watching. I feel their eyes on me, their uncertainty thick in the air. I hear their murmurs, low and clipped, though I can’t make out the words.
I don’t need to. I know what they’re thinking. I don’t even blame them. They saw me fall, then rise. They saw the wind carry me, then let me go. And now Valen is asking me to reach for something even more dangerous.
Something that doesn’t ask permission. Something that consumes.
I square my shoulders, ignoring the way my hands shake.
“Now,” he says, stepping back, “Fire.”
The breeze dies. The morning’s crisp scent of earth and wind vanishes. The clearing stills, as if bracing itself.
Fire.
Earth had been solid. Water, vast. Air, liberating. But Fire? Fire devours.
I’ve seen it consume, watched it reduce stone to ash, witnessed forests turn into graveyards of blackened husks. It takes. No warning. No mercy.
“Valen, I—” I take a step back.
“You’re ready.”
I clench my fists. “And if I’m not? If I can’t control it?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Then you learn.”
I swallow hard.
The last time I lost control, the ground split open; the lake nearly swallowed us; the wind flung me into the sky. If I lose control of Fire—would there even be anything left?
I glance toward the soldiers. They haven’t moved. They’re watching me, waiting to see what will happen.
Lyra watches me, arms crossed, jaw set—like she’s already chosen to trust me, no matter what happens next. Garrick’s grin is gone now, his expression sharper. Focused. And Thane—Thane hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
Valen must see my hesitation, because he steps closer, lowering his voice.
“Fire is already in you, Amara. It’s always been there, waiting.” His tone softens, but his words carry weight. “Fire is passion. Fire is life. Fire is choice.”
I shake my head. “I don’t feel it.”
“You will.”
He motions for me to close my eyes and I do.
“Breathe,” he says.
I pull in a slow breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs.
“Fire does not wait for permission,” Valen murmurs. “It does not hesitate. It does not doubt. It simply is.”
Nothing answers at first. Just stillness.
And then—a spark! Small. Flickering. Buried deep beneath my ribs. Waiting.
Alive.
I breathe into it. And Fire wakes up.
Heat detonates in my chest, racing down my arms like molten light. The spark jumps—flares—
Shit!
Flames burst from my hands, roaring into existence. They spiral out in violent arcs, searing the air, cracking the earth beneath me. The ground beneath me blackens, cracks. The heat slams into me—ravenous, relentless.
It wants more.
I can feel it feeding off everything I’ve been holding in—grief, rage, shame, guilt. Every emotion since the attack on my village.
It wants all of it.
Gasps echo around the clearing. Someone shouts. I hear boots scuff against dirt, the sound of bodies stumbling back.
The fire clings to me, coiled around my wrists, licking at my skin—but it doesn’t burn. It’s inside me.
The heat builds. It rages.
“Amara!” Valen’s voice cuts through the roar.
I can’t stop it. This isn’t like the others. Earth had been firm. Water had been difficult. Air had been light.
But Fire—Fire is feral. Unbound. Unforgiving.