Thera still stared at her hands long after the crystal sphere dissolved into the pool. The idea that she was truly a mage had not yet settled in her chest.
Ragon didn't give her long to dwell on it. "Being a mage is only the first step," he said, rising from the pool's edge. "But knowing your path means nothing if you can't walk it. From this moment, your training begins."
"Training?" Thera asked nervously, still wiping her damp hands on her dress.
"Yes." Ragon's tone was firm, but not unkind. "I'll show you how to build the foundation. You won't start with spells, or chants, or glowing circles in the air. You'll start with control. Without that, every flame you summon will burn you before it burns your enemy."
He gestured for her to follow. Soon, they stepped into the quiet courtyard behind the chambers. The night was cool, the stars scattered above them. Ragon stopped at the center, turning to face her.
"Summon a flame," he instructed.
Thera blinked. "Just like that? I don't even know how."
"You don't need words," Ragon said, his voice calm but commanding. "Feel the energy inside you. It's there, waiting. Draw it out..don't force it. Call it like you'd call your own breath."
Hesitant but obedient, Thera closed her eyes and stretched her hand forward. At first nothing happened, then after a shaky breath a weak flicker of fire sparked to life in her palm.
Her eyes widened. "I… I did it!"
Ragon gave a single nod. "Good. Now hold it. Don't let it vanish."
Minutes passed. The tiny flame wavered, almost going out with every slip in her focus. Sweat built on her brow, and her legs trembled from the effort of standing still.
Ragon stopped in front of her, folding his arms again. "Without control, every spell you try to cast will fail. Most mages waste their lives memorizing words, yet their power leaks out of them like water from a broken pot. That's why they never reach the higher stages."
Thera looked down at her empty hands, still tingling from the fading flame. "So all this is about… control?"
"Exactly," Ragon said. He crouched slightly, picking up a small pebble from the ground and tossing it in his hand. "Think of your body as a vessel. If it's cracked, no matter how much water you pour in, it will always leak. I'm teaching you to seal those cracks before I give you the water."
Thera's lips pressed into a thin line. "But a whole week just to hold a flame?"
Ragon's eyes sharpened. "Thera, when I was first taught, my master made me do this for months. Do you know why? Because real battles aren't about who shouts the longest spell. They're about who can keep their energy steady when everything around them is falling apart."
When Alaric was alive, he hadn't been trained with kindness. His master believed failure in training meant death on the battlefield. If his energy wavered, he was forced to start over from the beginning sometimes for days without rest.
But those harsh lessons were the reason he grew into a king feared across nations. He learned that the smallest crack in control could destroy an army, just as an unstable spell could explode in a mage's hand.
That was why Ragon pushed Thera this way. It wasn't cruelty...it was survival. He knew that if she relied only on spells and incantations, she'd always be weaker than those who mastered raw control. Spells could be forgotten or interrupted. But control… that could never be taken from her.
The firmness in his tone silenced her complaints. She stared at him, then gave a faint sigh, lowering herself back into the squatting stance. Slowly, she summoned the flame again smaller this time, but steadier.
"Better. Don't push it too hard. Let it breathe with you."
The flame responded, swaying gently in rhythm with her breaths. Thera blinked, surprised that it seemed easier this time.
"…It feels lighter," she murmured.
"That's because you're finally listening," Ragon said with a small smile.
Thera smiled faintly, though sweat trickled down her cheek. "If I pass out doing this, it's your fault."
Ragon chuckled. "If you pass out, I'll wake you up. And then make you do it again."
She groaned, but for the first time that week, the frustration in her chest felt smaller.
Ragon watched her hold the flame, his arms still crossed.
"Not bad," he said. "But control isn't proven in stillness. Anyone can sit in one place and hold power for a moment. Real control means keeping it steady when something tries to break it."
Thera frowned. "You mean… like fighting while holding it?"
"Exactly," Ragon replied, straightening. "When your heart races, when your body moves, when fear gets in your way..that's when your energy starts to slip. If you can keep it stable then, nothing will shake you."
Thera hesitated, biting her lip. "So… what now?"
Ragon smirked faintly. "Now, we make it harder."
Thera frowned, her stubbornness flaring. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one squatting for hours with your arms in the air."
Ragon chuckled softly. "You'll thank me when you stop burning your eyebrows off every time you summon fire."
"That was one time!" Thera shot back, but her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Ragon stood and extended a hand toward her. "Get up. I'll show you."
She hesitated before grabbing his hand and pulling herself to her feet. Before she could steady herself, Ragon stepped back, raising an eyebrow. "Now, dodge."
"Dodge? Dodge what?"
Ragon flicked his wrist, and a small pulse of flame shot toward her. Thera yelped, stumbling sideways as the flame missed by inches. The flame in her palm flickered violently as she scrambled to regain control.
"Ragon! What are you doing?!" Thera cried as she stumbled aside, barely dodging the flicker of flame.
"Training," he said evenly, already conjuring another. "If you want to control the flame, you can't freeze. You have to move with it. Trust yourself and the fire."
Another pulse came at her. She jerked awkwardly, her flame sputtering in her palm. She nearly lost it until a firm hand caught her wrist, steadying her.
Her breath hitched. Ragon was beside her now, his presence unshakable. "Don't let it flicker," he said quietly, adjusting her wrist so the flame straightened. His fingers brushed hers before he stepped back again.
Thera's cheeks heated, but she bit down her reaction and focused. "Your maj...Ragon, this is too much!"
"Maybe," he said, flicking another flame her way, "but it works."
She dodged again, lower this time, nearly tripping. The flame in her hand almost died with the motion. Ragon's arm shot out, catching her by the elbow and pulling her back upright before she fell.
"Keep it alive," he said firmly, his hand lingering just long enough to steady her posture. "Even when you stumble."
Thera's heart pounded at his nearness. She turned her head slightly, only to find his silver eyes close focused, but softer now. She quickly looked away, cheeks burning.
Another flame came, but this time she moved more smoothly, letting her body and the fire work together. The flicker in her hand steadied.
Ragon's voice dropped, low and guiding. "Good. Don't think just feel. Let it breathe with you."
Thera's chest rose and fell with her breaths, the flame pulsing in rhythm. Sweat dampened her brow, but for once it wasn't slipping away.
Then Ragon moved closer again, circling behind her. His hand brushed her shoulder blade lightly, straightening her stance. "Lower your center," he murmured.
She shivered at the touch, almost dropping the flame, but forced herself to focus. "I....I'm trying…"
"Don't try," Ragon said, leaning just enough for his words to reach her ear. "Do it."
Suddenly, a pulse of energy surged within her, spreading from her core to the tips of her fingers. The flame in her hand flared, brighter and hotter than before. It swirled upward, forming a controlled arc of fire that danced around her like a living entity.
Ragon halted mid-step, his silver eyes narrowing not in doubt, but in satisfaction. "You did it."
Thera froze, her breathing uneven as she stared at the flame hovering just above her palm. It no longer trembled or sputtered; it burned strong, alive, steady. "I… I did it?"
"Yes." Ragon's voice was firm, but there was warmth beneath it. He moved closer, slowly lifting his hand to hover just above hers. The heat of the flame licked between their palms, but his gaze never left her face. "That is your flame not borrowed, not forced. Yours."
She looked at her hand, still glowing faintly, wonder flickering in her eyes. "I thought magic was supposed to be complicated."
A low chuckle escaped him. "It usually is. But you're learning it my way."
Her lips curved despite herself. "And here I thought you were just torturing me."
Ragon smirked faintly, tilting his head as though studying her expression. "I still might be." His tone was teasing, but his hand lingered a second longer against hers before he finally drew back. "But you'll thank me later."
Thera felt her heartbeat trip at the loss of his touch. She quickly looked down, her cheeks warming.
Ragon exhaled, folding his arms once more, but his tone softened when he spoke again. "Now… I can leave you in charge of the other responsibilities."
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"I've already informed the council about my arrangements," Ragon continued, his voice calm yet certain. "They will show you the same respect they offer me. After all" His eyes lingered on her, silver meeting brown with quiet intensity.
"You are the only one-star mage in this entire community should anyone dare to disrespect you."
Thera's breath caught at the weight of his words. A blush colored her cheeks as she lowered her gaze. "I… I will definitely do my best," she whispered, bowing her head in acknowledgment.
"Good." His hand rose again, almost instinctively brushing a stray lock of damp hair from her face. "Because I trust you, Thera."
Her heart raced at the gentle touch. She swallowed hard, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "…Thank you, Ragon."