Gracie’s POV
It’s quiet outside the monastery.
The kind of quiet that hums — alive with wind and the soft song of the trees.
I sit cross-legged in the grass, eyes closed, trying to match my breathing to Zane’s.
He sits across from me, perfectly still — as calm as a frozen lake.
“Clear your mind,” he says gently. “Feel your energy move like air, not like storm.”
I try. I really do. But my thoughts are all over the place — sparks of memories, sounds, feelings. My hands twitch. A flicker of blue lightning slips between my fingers before I can stop it.
Zane opens one eye, smiling faintly. “You’re improving. Your energy is strong — you just need to guide it, not fight it.”
I breathe out slowly. “I’m trying. It’s just… it’s loud inside my head sometimes.”
“I know,” he says softly. “But storms aren’t meant to be silent. They’re meant to pass.”
Before I can answer, a rustle cuts through the quiet. Then another.
Zane’s eyes snap open, blue irises flashing to cold silver.
“Gracie. Get behind me.”
From the shadows at the edge of the monastery grounds, several Serpentine slither out — their scales glinting green and gold in the sunlight.
“Great,” I mutter. “I hate snakes.”
Zane stands, calm but alert, shifting into battle stance. “Stay close. Remember what I taught you — focus.”
He charges forward, ice forming at his fingertips. The first Serpentine lunges — he freezes it midair, shattering the ice with a single kick. But another one catches him from behind, striking him hard across the back with its tail.
“Zane!” I scream.
He hits the ground, unmoving.
Something inside me *snaps.*
The world goes silent — no sound, no breath, no thought.
Just *heat.*
My hands burn — not from pain, but power. It surges up my arms, wild and blinding. Sparks crackle around me, not blue this time — *red*. Deep, molten red, streaked with gold and fire.
The air ignites.
Lightning and flame twist together, spiraling into a cyclone around me. The ground splits, the sky flashes crimson. The Serpentine hiss and scatter, too late to escape.
“Stop— stop— please!” I cry, but it’s too strong. My fear feeds it, my heartbeat drives it. The storm grows until it’s a tornado of fire and electricity tearing through the field.
Then I hear a voice — soft but firm, cutting through the chaos.
“Gracie!”
It’s Zane. Somehow, he’s standing, frost shimmering over his wounds. He reaches out, stepping into the storm despite the heat.
“Focus on my voice,” he says. “You are safe. You are *in control.*”
Tears blur my vision. “I— I can’t! It’s too much!”
“Yes, you can.” His tone is calm, steady. “This power is not your enemy. It is *you.*”
He steps closer, the frost on his hands meeting the edge of my storm. Ice meets flame, lightning meets calm. Slowly — painfully — the red firestorm begins to fade, the air cooling until all that’s left are faint sparks dancing in the grass.
My knees give out. Zane catches me before I hit the ground.
“I hurt them,” I whisper, trembling.
“You protected us,” he corrects softly. “You just need guidance.”
He helps me sit, his arm steady around me. The air still smells of smoke and ozone, but the storm has passed.
“I—I made red lightning,” I murmur.
Zane smiles faintly. “A combination of fire and storm. Beautiful. Dangerous. Rare.”
I look at him, exhausted. “You’re not scared?”
He shakes his head. “No. You are your father’s daughter… both of them. And I think they’ll be very proud.”
My cheeks burn — from embarrassment this time, not fire. “Even if I accidentally made a flaming tornado?”
He chuckles softly. “Especially then.”
And even with the world smoldering around us, I feel something else inside me — something steady, warm, and safe.
For once, the storm isn’t trying to destroy me.
It’s just trying to be *heard.*
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