Chapter 54 Training
Training
The field stretched wide, golden grass swaying in the late afternoon October breeze.
At the far edge of town, where an old patrol tower stood unoccupied, Sorcha rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the nervous energy humming in her chest. She had spent the past few days avoiding her emotions, but now, standing opposite Rhosyn, there was no more time to run from what she was.
“You need to stop thinking so much,” Rhosyn said, crossing her arms, her eyes studying Sorcha like a puzzle she intended to solve.
“Magic isn’t just power, it’s the connection.
It’s no different than using our runes. You’re not wielding a weapon.
You’re commanding a part of yourself. You need to feel it, not force it. ”
Sorcha exhaled slowly. “Alright. So, what? I just… tell it what to do? It doesn’t work like the runes or Druid magic, it does what it wants.”
“Not tell. Listen. Listen to your body Sorcha.” Rhosyn’s voice softened. She knelt down, pressing her hands to the ground. “Your Magic is alive. The world responds when you understand how to ask. Watch.”
At her touch, the earth shifted. Green tendrils of vine slithered from the soil, weaving together in intricate, writhing knots. Then, with barely a flick of her wrist, the vines snapped forward, wrapping around Sorcha’s arms and legs. Before she could react, she was yanked into the air.
“Rhosyn!” Sorcha yelped, struggling as the vines held her aloft, suspending her midair.
Rhosyn only grinned. “See? The vines listen. They trust me.”
She made a small motion with her fingers, and the vines twisted again, gently lowering Sorcha before setting her on her feet.
Sorcha glared at her. “I had no idea how powerful you are! You could’ve warned me.”
“Why else would I be head of magic? I’ve been doing this awhile, the more you cast it, the better you’ll get” She smirked “Oh, and you could’ve stopped that attack, you’ve been slacking on your rune training,” Rhosyn countered, raising a brow. “That’s what we’re here for.
With a flick of her hand, she gestured toward the towering trees surrounding the field. At her silent call, the branches groaned as they twisted downward, the limbs stretching unnaturally before whipping out violently, striking at the air.
“You’re part of this world, Sorcha but also the otherworld. You have to feel that other part of you, locked away somewhere, hidden. Find it.” Rhosyn stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Close your eyes.”
Sorcha hesitated, then obeyed.
“Breathe deep. Feel the sun on your skin, the ground beneath your feet. What does your magic do when the light touches them?”
Sorcha’s body slowed. She felt the warmth of the sun filtering through her skin, igniting deep within her, she thought of the battle, Commander Nethran, the Fomorians, Emry.
Her runes tingled, no, they burned, with a steady rhythm that matched her own heartbeat.
She reached for that feeling, let herself sink into it.
Then, light erupted from her.
A brilliant white blast flared across the field, blinding but not painful. Rhosyn turned her face away from the sheer intensity of it. When the light dimmed enough for her to see, she gasped. Sorcha stood at the center of it all, transformed.
Her runes, once a faint glow, now shone like molten starlight, white hot against her skin. Her hair shimmered with fiery gold, catching the light in restless flickers. Her eyes, no longer green, had turned to swirling liquid gold, flecked with large specks of emerald.
Sorcha stared at her hands, her fingers trembling. The runes along her arms glowed faintly, still radiating soft tendrils of white light.
Rhosyn’s lips parted in awe before she stepped forward and pulled Sorcha into a fierce hug. “You did it,” she murmured, pride thick in her voice. “You finally let go.”
But Sorcha barely heard her. The power still buzzed beneath her skin, demanding more. She stepped back, lifting her hands again, and this time, she willed the light to bend.
Threads of light spun from her fingertips, coiling and twisting like sun threads. She shaped them, wove them into something tangible. The air crackled with power as the threads took form. A creature slithered into existence.
It emerged from the golden strands, a serpentine in shape, glowing like a creature born from the heart of the sun.
It coiled, its shimmering body pulsing with raw energy, rows of gleaming, translucent fangs lining its mouth.
Its eyes flickered like embers, and when it opened its mouth fire roared to life within its throat.
Sorcha’s gasped. The fire grew, surging forward aimed straight at Rhosyn.
Before she could react, a blur of movement cut between them.
Cat.
But not as he was before. Where the small feline had stood now loomed a massive, jaguar-like beast, nearly the size of a human on all fours.
His sleek black fur shimmered, the silver markings along his body pulsing with an ancient power.
His tails, long and whip like lashed through the air as he let out a thunderous roar that shook the ground.
The force of it shattered the construct.
Sorcha’s creation exploded into embers, threads of light dissolving into nothing. The fire that had threatened Rhosyn vanished in an instant.
Cat shifted his enormous form back into a house cat. With a final flick of his tail, he sat primly at Sorcha’s feet, licking his paw as though nothing had happened. Sorcha wide eyed and stunned looked at Rhosyn and Cat.
Sorcha opened her mouth and began to apologize “I’m sor— “
“I really shouldn’t have to save you from yourself,” he interrupted, his tone exasperated. “Honestly, Sunshine, I thought we were past the accidental murder stage.”
Sorcha let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “I didn’t know that was your true form, I thought it was just part of the dream…You didn’t tell me?”
Cat smirked, eyes flashing silver. “I didn’t think you’d all handle it well if I started the journey by being the size of a horse. Humans tend to panic.”
“Panic?” Rhosyn scoffed. “I watched a serpent made of pure light nearly incinerate me, only for you to explode into a gods damned shadow beast and roar it out of existence. I think I’m entitled to a bit of panic.”
Well,” he mused, “it was dramatic. Another second and you would’ve become the next verse of my favorite nursery rhyme.”
Sorcha’s breath was still ragged as she stared at him. “What?”
His silver eyes gleamed as his voice dipped into a lilting sing song. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
Rhosyn stifled a breath, brushing soot from her sleeve. “Charming.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Cat added, flashing a lazy grin before stepping back. Sorcha swallowed, still feeling the remnants of her magic buzzing beneath her skin. She turned to Cat, her voice quieter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cat tilted his head, as if genuinely considering. “I could have,” he mused. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Sorcha gave him a deadpan look. “Fun? I nearly burned Rhosyn alive.”
“Yes, and it was terrifying. You should be proud,” he said smoothly, then yawned. “Besides, I did stop you. So technically, no harm done.”
Rhosyn, who still looked a little winded, eyed Cat again. “So that is what you are. A Cait Sídhe. And a powerful one, if I had to guess.”
Cat’s eyes gleamed. “The Cait Sídhe, darling,” he corrected smoothly, his voice silk and shadow. “And you haven’t even seen the half of it.”
None of them had ever truly questioned what Cat was capable of. He had always been clever and knowing. But this?
Cat stretched, flicking his tail, and turned away. his usual casual demeanor sliding back into place like a well-worn mask.
Rhosyn exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Right. Well. That was horrifying. But also… effective.”
She turned back to Sorcha. “Your power is raw, but I can teach you to control it. No more accidental summoning of light serpents with a god complex, alright?”
Sorcha huffed a laugh, shaking off her lingering unease. “No promises.”
Rhosyn rolled her eyes. “God’s help us all.”
Training had been relentless. Morning until night, Sorcha had been pushed to her limits, her body aching in ways she hadn’t thought possible. The weight of their mission loomed over them But tonight, for just a moment, they could breathe.
The tavern was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation, the clatter of tankards meeting wood, and the occasional burst of laughter from Drystan, who seemed to be regaling Eirin with some wild tale.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering light over their faces as the group nursed their drinks.
Eirin was the first to leave, stretching as he pushed back from the table. “I’ve got some things to take care of,” he said, his tone unreadable. His gaze lingered on Sorcha for a second longer than necessary before he turned and disappeared into the night.
Cat followed soon after, yawning dramatically. “Well, this has been delightful, but I think I’ll go exploring. Perhaps I’ll find something interesting… or pretty to borrow.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. He flicked his tail lazily before adding, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”
And then it was just her and Kyron. Sorcha exhaled, the tavern suddenly feeling smaller, warmer. Kyron leaned back in his chair, watching her.
“Come on,” he said finally, pushing to his feet. “Let me walk you home.”
She nodded as slight grin reached her lips.
The streets were quiet, the night crisp. Their boots crunched against the cobblestone, mist curling around the edges of the lantern lit path.
She was exhausted, but not too exhausted to feel the way his presence wrapped around her, steady and warm despite the chill.
When they reached her door, she turned to thank him but before she could, Kyron stepped closer, invading the space between them.
“Sorcha.” His voice was low, rough around the edges.
She swallowed hard. “Yes?”
His fingers brushed against her wrist light and her pulse fluttered.