My heart aches for all the evils of the world…and how there is no escaping them.
But despite that, I hope you never stop dreaming big. With your whole giant beautiful heart. Never stop Kahlia from wanting more, for wanting to have it all. Life might be harder one step closer to the stars, but godsdammit if it’s not exhilarating. And if anyone could achieve anything, it would be you, Janus.
I had a small mishap (let’s just call it that for now) last week, but I’m feeling better for now. Also I learned a new code this week. You wouldn’t believe who taught it to me even if I told you, which I will, one day. One day when I see you again.
As much as I hurt for the evils and terrible things in the world, right now, my heart aches even more not knowing how you are.
Write me back soon, J. Trust me, you’re going to want to know who taught me the new code.
Ever missing you,
E
When we resumeour training a few mornings after I move to his quarters, Rylan starts our session by eyeing me for a few seconds, hands on his hips, before he says, “I’m only agreeing to this training session today because you’re not always going to have the luxury of fighting when your magic is at its full capacity. There will be times when you’re drained, when you need to know how to conserve your energy. This is a good opportunity to learn some techniques for when you need to be cognizant of your magic consumption.” He pauses, his gaze hardening as he adds, “Because I don’t want what happened to you to ever, ever happen again.” His jaw tightens. “Do you hear me?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. He seemed a little withdrawn for a few days after our argument, after I saw him in the corridor with the beaten prisoner, like something heavy was weighing on him, but it seems he’s put that aside now to teach me. I was thankful for the time apart, needing it to reconcile theperson I saw in that hallway with the Rylan I think I know—the light and dark sides of him. They all make him him. And I’m the one who wanted to know him; I should give him the safe space to be everything he is around me. If I’m to decide how I feel about him, I can’t pick and choose what it is that I know and like about him. But in this moment, his concern touches me, and I’m determined to prove that I’m capable, that I can handle whatever challenges come my way.
“I understand,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “I’m ready.”
He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, let’s begin.”
Rylan starts by teaching me how to use my magic in short, controlled bursts rather than all at once. He shows me how to channel just enough energy to create a small shield or a quick blast of water to push an opponent back without draining myself completely. To use a technique he calls layering. It’s a delicate balance—using just enough magic to defend myself, but not so much that I deplete my reserves too quickly. He teaches me a list of manoeuvres that take less magic and when to use them.
“It’s all strategic. It’s not always the right thing to come out at full strength if you don’t need to. Think of it like rationing supplies on a long journey,” he says as we circle each other. “You don’t want to use up everything too early. You need to make what you have last.”
“I see,” I say, concentrating as I try to follow his advice. “What happens if you run out of supplies before you reach your destination?”
“Then you get creative; improvise with what you have, use the resources around you.”
“‘Get creative?’” I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “I didn’tknow you had a creative side, Rylan. I thought you were all rules and seriousness and‘it’s my job.’”
He chuckles, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down my spine, and I inwardly smile. I’m glad the awkwardness of the last few days has thawed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Eira.”
“Not for lack of trying!” I retort, turning the puddle under his feet into ice. He momentarily slips, glares at me, then snaps his fingers and it dissolves into a fine mist, leaving behind nothing but dry grass. I can’t help but admire his skill. “Alright then, tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Something about me, huh?” He gives me a playful look, twirling his staff with ease. “Alright, how about this? If you can land a hit on me, I’ll answer any question you ask. But if you can’t… then I get to ask you something. And you have to answer honestly.”
I laugh, the sound ringing out in the quiet training field. “Deal. But expect me to go extra hard on you, Your Highness.”
“Oh, Eirabella, you act as if I don’t know that your goal is always to make it very,veryhard,” he teases, his grin widening.
My cheeks redden at the suggestiveness in his words, but I’m not going to let him have the upper hand. “I would say that with that kind ofcockiness, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that you’re the only one who’s going to getwettoday,” I say, aiming a stream of water at his head, one that he easily dodges.
“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
I sober, remembering my battle with Selene and how she so easily overpowered me. “I just don’t see how there’s any way I can beat Selene in a Strength combat.”
His gaze softens, and he lowers his staff and instead rolls up the sleeve of his all the way past the cuff on his forearm and up over his shoulder. He reveals the intricate tattoo winding around his bicep. I try to ignore the toned shape of his arms, thecorded muscle formed by a lifetime of honing his weapon, his body, and instead focus on the line of black ink. I’ve seen it before, when his arm was wrapped around me as we’d lain in bed at the inn, but never up close like this. The script is unfamiliar, jagged and beautiful.
“I had this inked when my grandfather passed away. It’s Kaldoran,” he says, reading the confusion on my face. His voice drops to a murmur as he reads the words aloud,“Thros Virendis, Soltar; Thros Elandor, Kareth; Thros Valinthar, Valoris.”He smiles before he takes a breath. “It means,from discipline, strength; from wisdom, power; from heart, courage.”
I slowly repeat the words, feeling them fill me with meaning. “What’s the difference between strength and power?”
A hint of a smile tugs at his lips, and he looks past me, as if seeing something far beyond the walls of water. “Strength is the force you use to move the universe. Power is knowing when and how to use it to move the universe.” He pokes me with the end of his staff. “You haven’t had the years of rigorous training that the other disciples have. That’s the disciple. But you have something they don’t—your life, your experiences, that wicked mind of yours. Draw from those. You’ll build the strength over time. But it’s your ability to draw from the world around you that makesyouso special, makes you the more powerful. That’s part of the creativity I was talking about.”
I sigh and knock away the end of his staff with mine. “So philosophical today, Your Highness. I hope you’ll wax just as poetic when I beat you and you have to answer my question.”
We continue sparring, the banter flowing easily between us. But despite my determination and using the new techniques Rylan taught me, I can feel my energy quickly waning. The exertion from both the physical and magical training is starting to take its toll after my recent burnout, and mymovements become slower, less precise. He dodges each of my attacks with an infuriating, cocky smirk, as if he’s already won.
