Lucy stood on the dry, pale soil, her boots kicking up little puffs of dust. She closed her eyes, trying to find that place inside herself again. The one that had woken up when the fake dragon king had lunged for Lucian.
"Feel for the current," Alistair said, his voice calm beside her. "Don't grab at it. Just know it's there."
She tried. She focused until her head hurt, searching for the surge of power that had once felt so effortless. A flicker of heat sparked in her chest, and for a second, the air around her hands shimmered. Then it was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
She let out a sharp breath, her shoulders slumping. "Nothing. It's not working."
"Again," he said, simple and steady.
She tried again. And again. For what felt like hours, she reached for that power, only to have it slip away each time. The sun climbed higher, baking the ground. Her shirt stuck to her back with sweat.
