27. Lora
Lora
Over the next several days, Erion split his time between Caldera’s training in the mornings and mine in the afternoons.
To my dismay, Caldera had a way of capturing Erion’s attention and making him relax. Not that I could blame him. The way she moved, spoke, and commanded her sun magic was enthralling.
“Feel the heart of the flame,” she said, hands moving in deliberate patterns over a coal-filled tray. “You don’t force fire. You court it. You woo it. And if you’re charming enough, you might just find yourself with a lifelong partner.”
Erion laughed, genuine and heartfelt. Caldera corrected his stumbling attempts to coax the fire, and the flames reached higher between his palms.
“Good, just like that. Let your fingers move with the fire. Now, add bolster.”
Erion’s face strained as he struggled to layer another aspect of sun wielding onto the first. The flames flickered and died.
With a groan, he slumped. “It’s impossible!”
Caldera circled him, arms behind her back. “It can certainly feel that way. Bolstering is like fire wielding in reverse—instead of pushing outward, feeding a flame, you draw inward, feeding your own spirit. Doing both is like circling one hand across your chest while patting your head.”
She demonstrated, one hand moving in smooth circles over her chest while the other tapped her head. “Try it.”
Erion ended up patting and circling both hands at once. He broke into an embarrassed laugh, but Caldera only beamed.
“It’s hard because your body isn’t used to doing two different actions at once. With a little practice, it’s fully possible.”
Nodding, Erion focused on the flame again, his back straight with newfound resolve.
Caldera was a good teacher, I had to give her that, but it didn’t change my suspicions.
Every smile, every patient explanation was nothing more than a convincing mask.
She’d snaked her way into the Moon Queendom and earned the council’s trust, but I had no doubts she relayed every secret she could dig up back to her own people.
Currents take me, she’d probably already told them about the Dual Wielder. Unease roiled in my chest. I had to get Erion out of here.
After our midday meal, Caldera left for her afternoon class with the children. As soon as the door closed behind her, I turned to Erion, who was still sipping his tea.
“I don’t like this,” I hissed.
He frowned. “Don’t like what?”
“Caldera. I think she’s sending secret messages to the Sun Kingdom about you being here. We should leave.”
Erion let out an incredulous laugh. “Let me guess—you don’t trust her because she’s a sun wielder.”
“Yes! Obviously! She’s probably heading off right now to communicate with—”
“Drowning stars, Lora, do you even hear yourself?” He threw out his arms. “She’s one of the nicest people I’ve met since I fell out of the rift. How can you think she’s a spy?”
Heat raced up my neck. Was he implying Caldera was a nicer person than me? I folded my arms across my chest. “I know she’s a spy! Don’t you remember what the Queen’s Spymaster said? Caldera had relayed important information, which was why he’d promised her the Moon Queendom’s protection.”
“Yes, exactly! She was helping us.”
My jaw clenched. “Which means it’s in her blood to trick and lie.”
Huffing, he rose, carrying his plate and cup to the wash basin. “Moon’s mercy, you really believe the worst of people, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.
“If you want to leave, just go. But I’m staying.”
He stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. Through the window, I watched his rigid frame return to the patio and start his moon training without me.
Stubborn fool. That naive heart of his would get him killed one day.
Sergeant Rika’s steady voice echoed in my mind.
If Erion enters Blightlands, we follow.
The moon guard had known the dangers and chosen to stay with him anyway. That’s what brave people did. Loyal people.
That’s what I would do, too. I’d stay with him. Continue training him. But I’d keep an eye on Caldera.
I marched outside. Erion knelt over a bowl of water, circling his hands above it.
The barest hint of ice crystals clung to the surface.
His gaze snapped up as I approached, features guarded and suspicious, as if expecting me to try again to convince him to leave.
What little ice he’d summoned melted away.
I nodded at the bowl. “You’re trying to add cold by drawing from the surrounding air. Reach inside the water and let the cold spread from its core instead.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He turned back to the water, giving it another try. An unspoken acceptance of my unspoken apology.
After a few candlemarks of stumbling through the same exercises with little progress, frustration coiled tight in my chest. Maybe Erion needed more than gentle encouragement—maybe he needed a push.
I darted inside and filled a tray with glowing coals from the hearth. Hurrying back outside, I placed the smoldering tray beside the water bowl.
Erion frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to wield both fire and water at once.”
His face went pale. “Lora, I can barely manage one—”
“You need to try. Just… pour yourself into both.”
His gaze lingered on me, long enough that I had to resist the urge to look away. Whatever he searched for in my face, he seemed to find it. A slow breath left him and his shoulders dropped.
He lifted his hands—one over the embers, one over the water—tracing slow waves through the air.
Nothing happened.
“Just relax, Erion. You can do this. Let yourself flow into them and let them flow into you.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. Sweat beaded along his hairline.
The water rippled, and at the same time, a flame flickered to life from the coal.
“That’s it!” I circled him, excitement bubbling up.
Erion’s arms moved in larger waves, fingers curling, eyes locked on the elements. The fire flared knee-high, and the water rose in a twisting column.
A breathless laugh escaped me. “You’re doing it! You’re wielding both fire and—”
The flames surged upward, heat radiating against my cheeks. The curling water twisted faster, spiraling over his head. Both elements spun wider and wilder, tracing new paths around his body.
I stepped back. “Erion, stop!”
His arms jerked to a halt, but the magic didn’t stop. The liquid crystallized into jagged shards, whirling in a violent spiral. Fire erupted outward, scorching the grass.
“Lora!” His voice cracked, raw with terror.
Ice crashed against patio chairs, shattering the wood. Flames lashed across the flowers and herbs on the trellises, setting them ablaze.
I reached toward him, panic tearing through my chest. “Breathe, Erion! Just breathe!”
Eyes wide, he shook his head. Flaming red and glowing blue swirled together in his eyes, blending into shimmering purple.
Ebbs and darkness, he was losing control. I lunged into the chaos and threw my arms around him. A sharp sting cut across my cheek as an ice shard struck my face.
“I’m here, Erion.” I pulled him tight, one hand cradling the back of his head. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
A shudder ripped through him. The fire guttered out, leaving smoldering remnants of plants on the charred trellises. Melting ice shards clattered to the ground.
Erion sagged against me, trembling.
“Good,” I murmured, my fingers stroking his back. “Just like that. You’re in control. Everything is fine.”
“I can’t—” His voice muffled against my tunic. “Lora, I can’t keep doing this.”
My throat tightened. “Yes, you can. This is progress. You’re learning your limits. And most importantly, you regained control.”
“Only because of you.”
“No.” I gripped his shoulders and eased back to meet his gaze. “It was all you. You pulled yourself back.”
His gaze snagged on my cheek, and his fingers traced up my face. “I hurt you.”
I took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s nothing. It’s my own fault, really. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” I brushed ash from his arm. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
His features tightened. “No, you were right to push me. I’m not improving fast enough. How am I supposed to seal the rift when I can’t even manage the basics?”
“We’ll figure it out.” My mind grasped for something to ease the self-loathing etched across his face. “I think what triggers your magic to lash out is when you use sun and moon powers at the same time. Let’s avoid that for now.”
Erion scrubbed his face with his palms. “Don’t you think I’ll need to use both to close the rift?”
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “Let’s not worry about that now. You just need time to adjust. Normal wielders grow up with their magic. They have years before they’re expected to use it for anything important. You’ve only had a few weeks.”
His gaze searched mine, drinking up my reassurances.
I patted his shoulder. “Let’s clean this up best we can before Caldera returns.”
As he trudged to right a fallen chair, I glanced around at the chaos. Raising my arms, I pulled water from the river and soaked the still-glowing herbs on the trellises.
My mind churned with the same ferocity as the waterfall cascading over the hillside.
Maybe the reason he struggled to control his magic was the same as why people weren’t born with both types. Perhaps the human body wasn’t meant to contain that kind of power.
But what alternatives did we have? The eclipse loomed just over a month away. One month to teach him what most wielders needed decades to master.
I wouldn’t push him again. But we couldn’t afford to go slow either.
Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Caldera hadn’t been pleased when she’d come home yesterday to find half her garden destroyed. But as usual, she kept up her considerate and understanding act. Erion apologized at least a dozen times, and she’d told him not to worry, the garden would grow back.
A sharp rap at the door made me jump in my seat. Caldera set down her spoon and went to open it.
Outside, a teenage girl glanced up with a bored expression. “Caldera, Mam, the moon seer needs you in town. Says it’s urgent.”