“You see?” I murmured, softening my tone as one of the smallest younglings flinched at the movement. “It is not about force. If you try to command them, they will resist you. If you feel them as an extension of yourself, they will listen.”
A small Veythar near the front, his silhouette barely holding the shape of shoulders and arms, closed his eyes in fierce concentration. A thin thread of shadow flickered at his fingertips, wavered as though caught in an unseen wind, and then steadied beneath his focus.
The courtyard seemed to hold its breath with him. Even the older trainees lining the perimeter stilled, their whispering tapering into reverent quiet as that fragile strand thickened, darkened, and slowly coiled around the wooden practice blade resting before him.
“Good,” I murmured, stepping closer but not touching him. “Do not grip it too tightly. You are not strangling the dark into obedience. You are asking it to remember that it belongs to you.”
His silhouette brightened faintly at the edges, power fluttering in uneven pulses. The blade scraped against the stone, lifted a finger’s breadth, then another, until it hovered unsteadily between us.
A ripple of awe moved through the younglings.
I remembered the first time I had coaxed the shadows to answer me within these walls, how foreign they had felt beneath my skin, how I had feared their hunger. Now they moved with a familiarity that settled deep in my bones.
“Feel your own hands,” I continued, circling slowly so they could all see the flow of smoke responding to my gestures. “If you would twist your wrist, imagine twisting theirs. If you would strike, imagine the path of your arm and let them follow.”
The dagger I guided arced through the air in a slow, sweeping curve, its blade catching the late afternoon light that spilled across the courtyard tiles. The shadows wrapped its hilt like a glove, smooth and fluid, and I felt the current of them brushing against my awareness as naturally as breath.
It no longer felt like reaching into something separate.
It felt like reaching into myself.
The younglings tried again, some with success, others with sputtering bursts that dissolved into embarrassed laughter. One lost control entirely and sent a swirl of smoke darting wildly across the courtyard before it fizzled out against the stone wall. I raised a hand gently, coaxing the errant darkness back into calm.
“No shame,” I reminded them. “Power is not born steady. It grows with you. If you rush it, you will trip over it.”
A few grinned at that.
Time had slipped forward in ways I had not noticed at first. Nearly a full moon cycle had passed since I stood on that platform in Haelen. Since I had chosen exile and love over safety and silence.
Mornings were spent in the council chamber, seated beside Talon as an equal. Afternoons were for the infirmary with Leona, and evenings were here, in the courtyard, teaching.
And in the quiet hours of night, I had learned the shape of this city from its highest balcony, memorizing the curve ofits bridges and the way the lanterns glowed silver against dark stone. I had begun to belong.
“Again,” I encouraged softly as the small Veythar before me steadied his floating blade. “This time, guide it in a circle. Slow. You are not racing anyone.”
He nodded, his shadowed form tightening with concentration, and the blade moved. Clumsy at first, then smoother, tracing a trembling arc in the air.
A spark of pride flared within me, so fierce it almost hurt.
Perhaps this was what it meant to build something rather than merely survive it.
When at last the light shifted toward evening and the chill of approaching dusk began to seep into the courtyard, I clapped my hands once, the sound echoing lightly against stone.
“That is enough for today,” I said, allowing warmth into my voice. “Power grows best when it is not exhausted.”
Groans of protest rose, but they obeyed, gathering their practice weapons and drifting toward the inner halls.
The smallest one lingered, his shadowed face tipped up toward me.
“Will you teach us again tomorrow, Lady?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered gently. “Tomorrow and the next day, and the one after that.”
He brightened at the edges before darting after the others. When the courtyard had emptied, Eladaria finally stepped forward from the archway.
“You have grown into this place,” she said, her silver-veined cloak falling in elegant lines to the floor.
A faint curve touched her lips. “That is rarer than you think. The council has convened. They await you.”