My robes, still damp from my accidental geyser, clung to me uncomfortably as we walked through the Heartwood. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and luminous blossoms, a stark contrast to the lingering dampness of my clothes. I was a walking, talking, accidental elemental geyser. And somehow, in this magical forest, it was hilarious. Or at least, Lyra and Violet seemed to think so. Their laughter had been infectious, a rare, genuine sound that had made me feel less like a freak and more like… well, a very powerful, very clumsy Fae Witch.
"So," I said, still chuckling, "I guess 'gentle' isn't really my thing, huh? More of a 'go big or go home' kind of witch."
Lyra, still wiping a tear of laughter from her Emerald eye, nodded. "Indeed. Your Voice, Cassandra, is not meant for subtlety in the way others understand it. It is raw, powerful, and seeks to define. We will learn to guide that power, not suppress it. For now, however, perhaps we should try something a little less… wet."
Violet, her Sapphire eyes still sparkling with amusement, added, "And perhaps something a little more… grounded."
They led me to a different clearing, one where the earth was a rich, dark loam, covered in patches of the glowing moss. Ancient, gnarled roots snaked across the ground, pulsing with a faint, internal light. The air here felt heavier, more solid, imbued with the deep, patient essence of the earth.
"Today," Lyra announced, gesturing to a small, flat stone embedded in the ground, "we will work with Earth. Feel its solidity, its strength, its unwavering nature. It is the foundation upon which all else rests."
"Okay," I said, eyeing the stone. "So, no more geysers. Got it. What's the goal? Make a pebble float? Turn dirt into mud?"
"For now," Violet interjected, her voice regaining its calm, instructive tone, "we will try to simply make the stone tremble. A faint vibration. A whisper of movement from the earth itself."
I knelt beside the stone, placing my hand on its cool, rough surface. I closed my eyes, trying to feel the earth's essence, its deep, resonant hum. It felt ancient, patient, utterly immovable. My mind, however, was anything but. It kept replaying the geyser, the shattered lamp, the Drainers. The fear of failure, the pressure to control this wild power, was a heavy weight.
"Focus, Cassandra," Lyra's voice was a soft murmur. "Feel the Earth's stillness. Now, introduce a single, gentle intention for movement. A tremor. A shiver."
I tried. I really did. I imagined the stone, just barely vibrating, a tiny tremor beneath my palm. I focused on the word "Tremble," trying to imbue it with the gentlest possible intent.
"Tremble," I whispered, trying to be as delicate as if I were coaxing a butterfly to land on my finger.
Nothing. The stone remained stubbornly still. My brow furrowed.
"Again," Violet prompted. "Your intent is still… fractured. There is too much hesitation, too much fear of what might happen. Let go of the fear. Trust the essence."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered, opening my eyes. "You don't accidentally turn rivers into fountains just by getting a little frustrated." I took a deep breath. Trust the essence. Trust the essence. It felt like telling myself to trust a hungry lion.
I placed my hand on the stone again, trying to push away the self-doubt. I focused on the smallest possible vibration, a barely perceptible shiver. I imagined the word "Tremble" as a tiny, internal rumble, deep within the earth.
"Tremble!" I commanded, a little more force this time, a tiny spark of impatience igniting in my chest.
A faint, almost imperceptible thrum vibrated through the stone, lasting only a fraction of a second. It was so small, I almost missed it. But it was there. Actual, intended movement.
"I did it!" I exclaimed, pulling my hand back, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. "I made it thrum! It was like a tiny, sleepy earthquake!"
Lyra and Violet exchanged a look, a subtle nod passing between them. "Excellent, Cassandra," Lyra said, her smile warm. "Now, try to sustain it. A steady tremor."
I tried. I focused, pushing for a continuous vibration. But the moment I tried to sustain it, the subtle control slipped. My frustration, always lurking, began to bubble up. Why is this so hard? Why can't I just do what I'm told?
My Voice, unbidden, resonated with my rising annoyance. My eyes, I could feel it, were beginning to deepen, the calm violet starting to swirl with a darker, more turbulent hue. The tattoo on my arm pulsed, a faint, angry thrum.
"TREMBLE!" I roared, the word tearing from my core, fueled by a potent mix of anger, frustration, and a desperate need for something to happen, something big.
The ground beneath the stone didn't just tremble. It buckled. With a deep, groaning roar, the earth around the stone heaved, tearing itself apart. A massive fissure, several feet wide and impossibly deep, ripped through the clearing, stretching for twenty feet, swallowing the glowing moss and ancient roots whole. The stone itself, the tiny, flat stone, didn't just vibrate; it was shattered by the sheer concussive force, its fragments flung outwards like shrapnel. The air crackled with residual energy, smelling sharply of ozone and freshly turned earth.