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11. Danica

Danica

11

W e walk through the busy encampment as morning routines commence around us. Faderyn pauses at a stall where a young woman sells freshly baked goods that make my stomach rumble loudly. My mouth starts watering at the yeasty, sugary aroma wafting from her pastries and loaves of bread.

After having nothing but wine since last night and then enduring the blood infusion this morning, my appetite is at an all-time high. My stomach gave an audible grumble, making Faderyn look at me in amusement.

Faderyn paid the vendor and handed me a still-warm bun topped with cinnamon and drizzled honey. "Eat up; you'll need your strength today," he encourages.

I devour the sweet roll eagerly, unable to hold back a blissful moan. The dough practically melts on my tongue, and the honey fills my senses with sweetness.

Erik watches my unabashed enjoyment with a wry smirk. Faderyn selects a fruit-studded pastry for himself and continues leading us onwards.

As I lick the last traces of honey from my fingers, I ask hopefully, "Any word yet from Axilya?"

Faderyn shakes his head, taking a thoughtful bite of his breakfast. "Have patience. She will uphold her word, I'm certain of it. But royal communications take time."

I sigh but nod acceptance. He's right—fretting will take time to process. Still, impatience nags at me.

Noticing my lingering anxiety, Faderyn gently adds, "Let us focus our energies on your training. Your magic is still quite unstable, but learning control will grant you valuable focus."

His observation hits the mark. Ever since I set foot in this realm, it's like my powers have been cranked up to eleven. Right now, they're a live wire beneath my skin—unruly, ravenous, in a way that's entirely new to me. This place seems to tug at the raw edges of my abilities, or maybe the void Rhyland's absence has left has thrown them into disarray.

The reason doesn't matter; the bottom line is clear: I have to control this wild energy coursing through me before it overwhelms my control and turns the tables on me.

Faderyn guides us to a quiet grove surrounded by ancient trees. Dappled sunlight filters through the canopy overhead, making it peaceful and serene—an ideal place to concentrate.

"Magic here is deeply connected to the natural world," Faderyn explains. "The energies of living things nourish power and lend stability. This area is protected by ancient magic—healing itself. That is why we train among trees and earth—they will ground you."

My hand presses on the rough texture of an aged oak tree, its every groove and ridge familiar to the touch like braille telling ancient stories. With my palm on the bark, I sense the deliberate rhythm of its life force—a steady, patient beat. Faderyn's wisdom is undeniable; this tree's presence soothes me.

I let my eyes fall shut, immersing myself in the symphony of the woods—the quiet rustle of leaves, the secretive whispers of the wind. The air is a tapestry woven with the earthy fragrance of the forest floor. Temporarily, my anxieties slip away as I am enveloped by the here and now, cocooned in the tranquil embrace of the moment.

When I open my eyes, Faderyn is smiling. "There, you sensed it—our shared vitality. Magic is not a weapon here, but a partnership." His voice rings with conviction. "I know you can master yourself, Dani. Just remember—power flows gently when given freedom, not forced."

Riding high on his vote of confidence, I take a deep breath and wrangle my scatterbrain into submission. Alright, let's do this—I signal with a decisive nod. IfFaderynthinks he can turn me into reigning in this haphazard hocus-pocus of mine, then I'm all ears. Master this mojo, and I'm not just a random hazard to the squad—I'm their ace in the hole.

Bring on the growth spurt, universe. I'm ready to be epic.

T wo excruciating hours tick by, and I'm still at war with my own light show. In the thick of a fight, sure, it's like fireworks—bang, surprise! But try to tap into it with a smidge of finesse? That's a big negative. I'm a walking fire hazard—ask the local foliage that's had a taste of my pyrotechnics.

And let's not forget my near-miss with Faderyn. Hello, accidental light grenade! Thankfully, he dodged it.

The forest possesses an astonishing regenerative gift in this sanctum, safeguarded by ancient wards and steeped in enigmatic magic. Wounds inflicted upon it are fleeting; trees, flora, and fauna recover with a swiftness that defies the natural order. Here, the concept of harm is transient, healed in the blink of an eye by the land's own hand.

Save the trees, anyone?

Despite it all, Faderyn's cooler than a cucumber in a frost spell. But I've got to get a grip. We're talking about an environmental disaster if I keep tossing out these wild blasts. I need to learn to dial down the dazzle and maybe not leave a trail of destruction when I need to light a candle.

"Let it flow naturally from your core, like exhaling a breath," he instructs. "Feel it awaken, then softly release."

Deep breaths, Dani. Focus inward and feel that warmth. Be the light—Wait, did I really just think that? So cheesy.

Taking a deep, centering breath, I extend my palm toward the target—a simple bullseye etched onto a boulder. I envision kindling a glow in my core, coaxing it steadily outward. A faint shimmer builds in my palm. I stroke it gently with my will, feeling it grow...pulsing, pulsing… It's working!

Until it isn't, the boulder I am aiming at explodes instead.

Shit . This is gonna take forever. I'm basically a walking nuclear disaster.

Discouragement wells up. I'm aware of Erik standing nearby with a vigilant watch. Though he provides space for us to concentrate, his protective presence reassures me. His imposing figure leans casually against a tree, but his focus never stops monitoring the surrounding woods. He is always the wary sentinel.

"Do not lose faith—you felt it stir this time," Faderyn encourages, patting my shoulder. "Magic is stubborn when restrained. You must persuade, not command."

I swallow frustration and force myself to refocus. Maybe I'm tackling this wrong, trying to wield power like a tool or weapon. But actual control means working in cooperation, not domination.

"These powers aren't combative; rather, they're about guardianship and preservation," he explains, his voice as soothing.

Seriously though, I have to figure out how to control this chaotic light before I accidentally burn down the whole realm or blind everyone permanently. No pressure or anything! Deep breaths...feel the glow...guide it gently...annnd tree number four is on fire.

Nailed it. Ugh, this is gonna take some work .

"This is pointless," I admit.

"No. It's not. Try again." Faderyn pushes.

Closing my eyes again, I sink into a meditative calm, then tenderly rouse the luminous well within. Heat builds, but I let it rise gradually, envisioning it streaming smoothly from my core through every limb. The warmth intensifies, then suddenly spills forth in a controlled radiance that hits the target squarely, just for an instant before I reel it back in.

"Perfect," Faderyn cheers.

Giddiness rises in me—I did it! But the small victory rapidly drains my energy. Swaying with fatigue, I gratefully accept the waterskin Faderyn offers. The pride in Erik's eyes is unmistakable. His grin and nod of approval hearten me as much as Faderyn's overt praise in his fierce way.

Erik shares in each small success. "Good job, Little One," he assures me.

But disappointment lingers. After only one successful attempt, I'm already depleted. Sensing this, Faderyn squeezes my shoulder. "You've made an immense breakthrough today. Control is the hardest part. Mastery takes time—even years. But the path has begun."

"Why am I so tired from using my abilities? I never felt drained like this back in the mortal realm," I say, frustration mounting again.

Faderyn considers thoughtfully before responding. "The innate magic of this realm likely amplifies your powers but also requires more energy to channel properly. Like an overly powerful electrical current overloading a device meant for lower voltage. Your mortal body wasn't built to handle the sheer intensity of magic here."

Erik adds his insights as well. "I believe it's also because you need the Faerite stone to enhance your gifts in this land. Remember the crown." His eyes point to the top of my head. His words make me recall Seraphina's counsel about the stones' importance. Of course—she said the artifact helps harness the realm's mystic forces. Without it, I'm like a lone wire straining to conduct too much energy. "And your severed mate bond probably worsens the strain," Erik continues solemnly. "It's like an open wound, leaking your reserves. Without Rhyland's stabilizing presence, your power bleeds out faster when you use it."

His explanation resonates deeply. Seraphina warned me that Rhyland is my conduit and helps temper my abilities. Alone, they rage unchecked—burning me out swiftly.

Faderyn nods along to Erik's assessments. "Well reasoned, friend. Her mortal form falters, adjusting to the uncontrolled magic here. But in time, with training, you can augment your endurance." He smiles encouragingly at me.

My brain's throwing a massive tantrum, fit for a queen of meltdowns. Powers are on the fritz, Rhyland is MIA, and I'm on an epic scavenger hunt for mystical bling—it's a hot mess with no emergency exit. Powerlessness? I'm not a fan. It's like walking in high heels on a treadmill—totally pointless.

I'm a science gal, for crying out loud! Give me some data to chew on, a hypothesis to test, and let me flex my logic muscle. But nope, here I am, all aboard the hot mess express—emotions cranked to eleven and as aimless as a GPS without a signal, while my abilities throw tantrums left, right, and center.

I'm a bubbling cauldron of pent-up energy and stress, ready to blow my lid. All revved up with nowhere to go, I'm pacing back and forth like a lioness trapped behind bars. My brain is on a treadmill—running, running, getting nowhere fast.

This whole 'sitting on my hands' routine? Yeah, it's not my jam. I was made to dissect puzzles, not play the damsel in distress drowning in a sea of chaos. Power? Control? Might as well be on the moon for all the good they're doing me. So, here I am, gnawing on conundrums like they're the world's worst chew toy.

Seeing my rising fury, Faderyn grasps my shoulder. "Patience, Dani. Axilya will succeed. We must allow her efforts time to succeed."

Erik's observant gaze softens with concern. "Your emotions are becoming tumultuous, Little One," he cautions gently. "The distance from your mate weighs heavily upon you, it seems. You must master them, lest you face repercussions."

His steadfast calmness cools my remaining ire. I take a deep breath and nod, gripping my unraveling composure. "I get it. Feels like I'm on an emotional joyride, not in the driver's seat."

Erik emits a grunt of assent, momentarily placated. "You're possibly also picking up on Rhyland's emotions."

"Hang on, Rhyland," I say down the bond, and I'm met with the black void.

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