The growth of Sylana's smile took a turn towards the sinister. The instant she was picturing, Lita alongside her, a forceful and wild creature, and Madam Valliere at their feet, powerless, her dominance over them, the control she wielded, totally broken.
Sylana, in a whisper only to herself, slowly, and threateningly
"Yes, as soon as my sister is out, Lita will be the one who is finally… the one who can be what she was always meant to be."
The fiery determination that could freeze anyone was now lighting up her place. The different parts of her scheme were getting along well, and she only had to wait for the perfect time, the best chance to hit.
Sylana was well aware that she would have to use her words very wisely and be very careful in her actions. Madame Valliere was a tough nut to crack, and any direct encounter could lead to her defeat. But Sylana was a master of manipulation and cunning.
She would act like a caring sister, slowly sapping Madame Valliere's power, putting doubt in Lita's mind, and waiting till the last moment when she could deal a death blow.
When that moment would arrive, Sylana would go to her sister and remind her of the one thing which is beyond dispute:
"You have to obey your elder sister."
With that, she uttered a low, ghostly laugh and her eyes shone with evil purpose as she walked towards the night shadows, having already imagined the future chaos.
The next day, although the mist in the garden of the Valliere mansion was very thick, the illusion of calm remained. The magical lights cast an ethereal beauty over the place, but a tension, almost imperceptible, had taken the place of the calm.
Lita was on the training grounds, one hand holding a wooden sword and the other hand furrowing her brow in concentration. Flare was opposite her, wearing her usual stern but composed expression.
The day's training was a very tricky combination of sword and magic—two skills that Lita was slowly but surely mastering, yet she still had a long way to go.
Madam Valliere, in the distance, with an intricately carved teapot, was watching them with a very calm detached expression. She was taking her tea slowly, and her eyes were always on Lita's actions. There was something in her that was not cold—a glimmer of something deeper, maybe, a hidden pride or even fear of what Lita might become one day.
"Lita, concentrate,"
Flare said, her voice both sharp and calming.
"Swordplay needs precision and discipline; magic needs control in the same way. It is not possible to lose oneself in the power and not to control it through mastery."
Lita was nodding, and her willpower was so clear through her actions, that she swung her sword once more, but this time it was more like a dance. With the other hand she was muttering an incantation that brought forth a little flame that danced next to her. The mixing of physical and magical strength was still a novel experience for her, and even though she had come a long way, Flare still took her to her limits..