Chapter 23 #2
My pulse races. Magics hums uneven, erratic, wrong. Fire flickers in my palms—unstable. Air stirs at my back. Water clings to my fingertips. The earth under my boots feels loose, wrong.
Unbalanced.
Because I am.
“You want to know the fastest way to lose control?” His voice is calm, but sharper now. Cutting.
I sigh heavily. “Enlighten me.”
He steps closer. “Emotions without discipline. Amara, you are the strongest wielder and channeler I’ve ever seen or heard of on record.”
Tears sting my eyes but I blink them back.
But then his voice drops, hardens. “And strength means nothing if you can’t hold it.”
His words land hard. Too hard.
Because I know he’s right.
Every time I fight, the Elements don’t wait for my command anymore. They react.
To anger. To longing. To fear.
To Thane.
When he looks at me like I matter. When I catch myself missing him. When I lie to myself about it being strategy or magics or war—my magics answers before I do. The fire flares hotter. The wind cuts sharper. The water rises even when I don’t call it.
His hand twitches—and before I can brace myself, power slams into me. I stagger back, scowling.
“What the hell was that for?”
He crosses his arms. “Now show me your control.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
I reach for the wind—call it forward, shape it to hit him back. But it comes too fast. Too wild. Too sharp.
Valen dodges, easily. But his eyes narrow. “You cannot let this control you, Amara.”
I exhale through my nose, fists tightening. “And what if I can’t stop it?”
His eyes narrow. “Then you’ll be a slave to it.”
His words nearly gut me.
This isn’t just about Thane.
It’s the war. The prophecy. The people waiting for me to be ready.
The ones who will die if I’m not.
My chest tightens.
Because I haven’t figured out how to separate what I feel from what I wield. Because right now—the line between them is gone. And if I don’t fix it—Valen is right.
I’ll be a liability.
And we won’t just lose the war. We’ll lose everything to the dark waiting to devour us.
So I do what I always do when I’m afraid of breaking apart—I start over. One Element at a time. Until it listens.
Until I do.
I wake before dawn. Before the fires and the noise. The air is cool, the sky only just beginning to pale. I change quickly and leave the barracks. I don’t know where I’m going—only that I need to move. My thoughts won’t stop circling. The bond. The prophecy. Thane.
The path unfolds beneath my feet like it’s always known where I’m meant to be. When I finally lift my head, the old temple rises before me, half-swallowed by morning mist.
Four figures stand in silence.
Nerai, Goddess of Water.
Saela, Goddess of Earth.
Vaerion, God of Fire.
Auren, God of Air.
Their carved faces watch me—stern, silent, eternal.
And then the emotions hit. They slam into me like a wave at high tide—grief, shame, fury, confusion, guilt. I nearly drown in it.
So I do the only thing I can.
I drop to my knees. My head bows low before them. My throat tightens. My voice cracks in my chest before it ever reaches the air.
“Saela . . . what do I do?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for Saela to answer me—like she did months ago, when I could barely breathe beneath the weight of my parents’ death.
But this time—like before—it isn’t only Saela who answers.
It’s all four gods at once.
Two female voices. Two male.
Threading together like a single melody—woven not with sound, but with soul. A harmony meant only for my aching heart.
My gaze lifts, tears streaming freely down my face—as if an unseen hand gently raised my chin.
And I see them.
All four statues are glowing, each alight with their element’s essence.
Nerai, wreathed in sapphire light, shimmering like sunlight dancing on deep water.
Saela, pulsing with a quiet, living green—like the heartbeat of the earth beneath bare feet.
Vaerion, crowned in hearthlight, orange flames flickering like breath over kindling.
Auren, haloed in silver currents, ribbons of wind swirling around him in soft, endless motion.
Their light sings.
Their lips do not move, but I hear their voices.
Our beloved Spiritborn.
We feel your fear. Your doubts are ours to carry.
You are chosen—not only by the Gods, but by him.
The son of Vaerion rises beside the daughter of all.
But you must choose, in return, to see the path forward.
A part of me wants to shout back—what if I didn’t want to be chosen? What if I wanted to choose?
But I don’t. Because the truth is—I think I already have.
Then—movement catches my eye.
I glance down at the stone pavers beneath my knees. A single stem pushes through a narrow crack.
A flower. Reaching upward.
My breath stutters.
I know that bloom.
Pale yellow petals unfurl slowly as the stem stills, its growth slowing as if sighing into place. I’ve seen it before—every summer in the rolling fields just north of our village. It lined the roads. Grew wild near the orchard. My mother used to pick them and tuck them behind my ear.
Evening primrose.
But they don’t grow this far south.
I blink hard. Once. Twice. The flower remains—alive and rooted, impossibly real.
It’s a gift. I know it in my bones. A quiet blessing from the gods—from Saela herself.
I reach out to touch the Evening Primrose—just to be sure it’s real.
I press a petal gently between my fingertips and rub.
Its velvet softness stirs something deep.
It reminds me of my mother’s laugh—the one that spilled out whenever I told her a story. Of my father’s hands—strong and sure—lifting me high to reach the ripest apple in the tree.
Of home.
But home isn’t just my village anymore. Not just Liora.
Home is here now, at the outpost. Or maybe . . . this is home as well as Liora.
Garrick’s teasing, like a big brother. Jarek, pushing me to my limits, then making me laugh when I’m too hard on myself. Rian’s quiet steadiness. Valen’s unwavering faith.
Taila, Nessa, Darius, and Fenric—always ready with a joke, always treating me like I’m just another soul trying to find her way. An equal.
And Lyra—my lighthouse. Always holding me steady. Always lighting the way home.
I close my eyes, still rubbing the petal between my fingertips, and I think of him.
Of Thane.
The way he’s been a constant since the day my powers awakened. Never wavering. Never stepping away. Always there—no matter how I rage, no matter how I resist. He lets me crash against him again and again, and he stays. Steady.
Like the old oak tree by the lake. Rooted. Unmoving. A place to rest.
Thane is home.
The bond hums low in my chest, like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
And just like that, the doubts drain away—like rain washing the dirt from my hands, my face, my knees—after a long day planting in the fields.
I release the petal from my fingers and rise. The sun is beginning to peak over the mountain range surrounding the outpost. I finally know where I belong.
THANE
As soon as I dismount, Jarek’s on me—Rian close behind.
“What the fuck, Thane?!” Jarek jabs a finger into my chest.
I tense, reflexively resting a hand on my sword hilt. Jarek’s eyes drop to my hand—then snap back to mine, daring me to pull my sword. Jarek’s always been the one to push me right to the edge, never concerned with my title or rank. Most times, I am grateful he treats me as his equal.
Other times, like now, I want to punch him in the face.
Rian grips Jarek’s shoulders, gently pulling him back. “Easy, brother,” he murmurs to Jarek—but his eyes stay on me.
Jarek’s hazel eyes blaze—hotter than I’ve seen in a long time. Deliberately, I swipe my palm across the spot where his finger hit.
I glance between my brothers. Rian’s face is pinched, but Jarek looks ready to erupt. I’ve seen this look before—when something’s grinding under his skin.
“What?” I ask, my voice tight.
“You’re supposed to be the one supporting Amara, her anchor—guiding her training. You disappear and she’s a fucking wreck!”
Rian stays silent, his hands still on Jarek. But his eyes narrow.
He clearly agrees with him.
Jarek’s voice drops—deadly low. “She’s the fucking Spiritborn. We need her to win this war. And you’re messing with her head—putting the whole realm at risk.”
My horse fidgets, sensing the tension. I turn my back on my brothers and run a hand down his flank, murmuring something low—maybe I need to hear it, too.
“Thane! Don’t turn your back on me!” Jarek spits out.
Rian finally speaks. “Thane, Amara’s struggling. We know you care about each other. But if you were going to cross that line—which you did—you don’t get to disappear when things get hard. This isn’t just about you and Amara anymore.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. Every fucking word out of their mouths is true.
I do care for her. More than I can sometimes even admit to myself. Being away from her felt like my heart was trying to break through my chest—and not just because of this fucking bond, but because I missed her.
The bond has twisted everything. When I was the only one feeling it, I could keep it buried. Now, it’s waking things I can’t control.
I can shoulder one more thing, but once she felt it too—it became a risk I can’t justify. Being with me will only hurt her.
I turn to face my brothers and offer the only truth I can share.
“I had to meet with the council about the increase in border attacks.”
Rian studies my face. He doesn’t believe me—but he’s too generous to say it. Jarek, on the other hand, has no problem calling me out.
“Bullshit.” His jaw is tight. “That’s not the whole truth. What are you playing at? This isn’t you—you don’t put anything before the realm.”
He shrugs off Rian’s hands and steps into my space, only one pace between us. The intensity in Jarek’s hazel eyes roots me to the spot.
“This is us, brother. What the fuck is going on?” he growls, spit flecking my cheek.
The fire in my veins begins to heat. I close my eyes, take one breath through my nose, then open my eyes slowly. I raise a hand and wipe the wetness off my face, never breaking eye contact.