CHAPTER 53: THE DANCING FLAME

The first rays of sun stretched across the clearing as Elowyn moved, her boots silent on the damp grass.

"Energy manipulation." Her gaze swept over Anneliese, unyielding as ever. "Magic is the art of harnessing energy—whether drawn from within or taken from outside. To wield it, one must first understand its source. Personal energy comes from the self. Outward energy comes from the world around us—objects, places, even living things. Only when you know the source can you focus, draw from it, and bend it to your will."

Her voice was steady, a calm tide against the storm still stirring in Anneliese.

"Be it insourced or outsourced," Elowyn went on, "you must learn to shape it and direct it wherever you choose. This is the foundation of control."

Anneliese clenched her fists, letting the familiar heat rise and fall beneath her skin as she tried to grasp Elowyn’s words. "Like a kind of conversion?" she asked. "Turning any form of energy into magic through manipulation?"

"Yes." Elowyn’s approval came without hesitation.

Anneliese hesitated, then pressed further. "But how can one actually manipulate energy?"

Elowyn’s gaze sharpened, as though weighing her readiness. "Three skills," she said. "First, Intuitive Awareness: listening to the inner voice of your very being, and learning to tune it as you desire. Second, Intention: shaping a clear purpose, the reason you reach for energy at all. Third, Focus: with a still mind, fix every thread of your will upon the task, concentrate until nothing else exists."

Anneliese asked out of genuine curiosity, "If outside energy—that is, energy from the surroundings—can be used and manipulated through these skills, then can anyone master the conversion of energy into magic by practicing them, even those who do not possess magical abilities?"

Impressed by Anneliese’s insight, Elowyn answered, "It is not possible. To harness outward energy, one must already carry magic within themselves. The deeper and stronger one’s inner magic is, the more one can draw upon and command outside energy. Without that depth within, a wielder or even a human may learn to touch and sense external forces, but they cannot truly command or transform them into magic."

Anneliese lowered her gaze, chewing over the words. So it was not something anyone could just learn. It was not a skill alone—it was something born into you, alive inside you. A mixture of relief and dread twisted together in her chest. Relief, because she did carry that magic, undeniable and waiting. Dread, because if she failed to master it, then all that power would remain a curse instead of becoming a gift.

Elowyn lifted her hand slightly. A pebble from the far edge of the clearing trembled, then leapt through the air into her palm, as if carried by the invisible wind at her command.

"Energy answers the strongest pull—it is drawn where the mind commands. To manipulate it, you must first feel it, then will it, and finally shape it. Most fail because they try to command before they can perceive."

Awe stirred in Anneliese at the sight, but was chased by doubt, swift and merciless. Her power had never been this clean. It came in sudden bursts, fire slipping through her grasp like something wild and feral.

Longing and fear tangled within her, a knot pulled tighter with every breath—until her hands ached with the need to try.

Elowyn’s voice cut through her thoughts, steady as iron. "Follow yesterday’s lesson. Feel your magic first. Seek out your fire, then reach for it slowly. Once you grasp it, do not let it slip. Hold it for as long as you can without letting it consume you. Be in command. Remember—you own your fire, not the other way around."

Anneliese nodded and obeyed. Closing her eyes, she turned inward, moving toward the faint hum of warmth that had not left her since yesterday. It was clearer now, stronger. When she found it, she reached for it with her whole being—as if to tell it that she was part of it, and it was part of her.

For a moment, nothing else existed. Just her and her magic.

And then—unexpectedly—the warmth stirred. It shifted toward her, reaching back, answering her call.

Her breath hitched, caught between wonder and fear. The fire flared, spilling into her hands, brighter. For a heartbeat she thought she had lost it—thought it would tear away, wild and hungry, or vanish like yesterday’s wisp—but she remembered why she was here. The fragment of her nightmare still fresh in her mind. She would stand beside Vincenzo, fight until the threat of the Dark Witches was nothing but ash. A memory of the past. And for that she needed to be strong.

The fire surged through her fingers. She pushed the flame from her palms to fingers, pressing it into stillness, binding it with every thread of her will. It obeyed.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Fire danced at her fingertips, steady, listening. Obeying. Neither wild nor fading. A flicker of triumph rose within her. For the first time, it was moving at her will.

But then the flame shuddered. A surge rippled through her chest, sharp and overwhelming, as if the fire itself tested her grip. Panic flared—too strong, too fast. Her focus wavered, the heat threatening to lash outward, but she forced it still, refusing to let it move on its own. Sparks burst from her fingertips, then steadied again, settling into a rhythmic glow.

Elowyn’s expression flickered—approval, faint but unmistakable—before settling once more into steel. Her voice broke the silence, calm but edged with admiration. "Better. You held it longer than I expected, and commanded it well. Control will come with practice—but only if you learn not to fear the fire you claim, and keep your composure without startling it."

Anneliese drew a sharp breath and pulled the fire inward. It vanished from her fingertips, leaving her hands trembling. Yet the memory of that brief stillness—the moment the flame had obeyed her—burned brighter than yesterday’s failure.

Her pulse was loud in her ears. Sweat prickled her brow, though the morning air was still cool. She curled her fingers into her palms as if to steady them, as if to convince herself the fire had truly been listening to her for that fleeting moment.

——

Vincenzo studied her in silence from a distance, his unreadable gaze fixed as though weighing not the fire, but the girl who dared to command it. When he finally spoke, his words were warm and sincere. "You are closer than you think."

Anneliese swallowed hard. The praise lodged like a stone in her chest, heavy with both pride and doubt. "I almost lost it," she admitted. "It slipped the moment I thought I had it."

Vincenzo’s expression softened, the flicker of something like approval and understanding. "And yet you pulled it back. Do not mistake that for coincidence or weakness—it is the first step toward command. Many lose themselves the moment their element rises. You did not."

The words pressed against the fear coiled inside her, easing it, though not banishing it entirely. The doubt clung to her even as her chest swelled with the faint, fragile pride of success.

"I’ll try again," she said, voice low but determined.

Elowyn gave a single nod. "Not now. Power must be built like muscle—step by step—else it consumes more than it gives. Each time we use magic, it drains us, demanding effort both physical and mental. Some wielders have even died from drawing too deeply, too soon. Using more than you are ready for brings only devastation. So you will rest, let the fire settle, and after a few hours, you may reach for it again. Discipline makes a wielder. Recklessness breaks one."

The firmness in her tone left no room for argument. Anneliese exhaled, bowing her head. The tremor in her hands had not faded, but now, beneath the trembling, there was something else—an ember of certainty.

Elowyn let the words hang in the air to settle, then went on, her tone precise and explicit, leaving no doubt. "Tomorrow, we continue from here. You will move beyond your own fire. You will reach for the outward energy—what surrounds you—and learn to draw it into your grasp. Once you can hold it, we will move to the next step: directing it wherever your will demands, to your target."

Anneliese’s eyes flickered with both anticipation and unease. The thought of commanding what was not hers—pulling life and strength from the world itself—was daunting, almost terrifying. Yet a spark lit within her, small but insistent. If she could do this, if she could claim not just her own fire but the very energy around her, then perhaps she could truly stand against the shadows closing in. For the first time, she did not fear her fire. For the first time, she believed it might become her companion.

——

After breakfast, instead of going to her chamber, Anneliese lingered in the patio. Ivy twisted up the marble columns, their leaves whispering in the wind. The fire within her chest had quieted to a gentle warmth, yet it hummed, insistent, reminding her that this was only the beginning.

Her mind raced with questions. Could she really reach for outward energy? Could she bend the air, the soil, the stones around her, as easily as she had bent her own fire? The thought thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. She swallowed, forcing the doubt down, replacing it with determination.

Her gaze drifted to the horizon, where the forest was bathed in morning golden glow. Energy was everywhere, she realized—alive in the wind, the sunlight, the blades of grass swaying under the gentle breeze. And one day, she would not only feel it—she would command it.

A shiver ran down her spine, part fear, part excitement. Tomorrow, she would step further into a realm she had only glimpsed, and nothing could prepare her entirely for what she might uncover within herself. But for now, the ember of certainty warmed her from inside, steadying her breath and calming the rapid beating of her heart.

She bowed her head one last time to the clearing now hidden by walls and forest trees, almost instinctively, acknowledging both her mentor and the fire she had tamed, however briefly. It was a promise: that she would return, stronger, ready, unafraid.

Anneliese allowed herself a small smile. For the first time, magic felt less like a burden and more like a companion, patient yet demanding, waiting for her to grow into it.