Page 22 of Court of Twisted Angels

"Again." Azrael's voice is tough but not mean. "Your form is still too rigid."

I draw in a deep breath, channeling energy as he taught me. He found me what he calls a conduit, a cool band that wraps around my palm and has latent magic in it. He's been using it to teach me how to channel magic, though there are a lot of limitations.

The familiar tingle of magic spreads through my limbs, making my fingertips spark with faint blue light. Across from me, Azrael's own magic manifests as a brilliant white aura.

"Remember what I showed you." He moves in perfect synchronization with me, our bare feet sliding across the moss-covered stones. "Let it flow naturally, like water."

My movements mirror his - a complex dance of offensive and defensive stances designed to strengthen our magicalconnection. With each passing day, the patterns become more familiar, though his grace still far surpasses mine.

A bead of sweat rolls down my temple as we execute a particularly challenging sequence. Our energies intertwine, creating shimmering ribbons of light that weave between us. The air crackles with raw power.

"Better." His ice-blue eyes track my every move. "Now channel it outward."

I extend my arm, palm facing the ancient stone target we'd set up. The magic pulses, wanting to burst free, but I hold it steady as Azrael taught me. His energy mingles with mine, amplifying it until the air around us hums.

"Release."

Our combined power shoots forward in a brilliant stream of blue-white light, striking the stone with devastating force. The impact sends tremors through the ground, scattering fallen leaves and loose pebbles.

"Your control is improving, little bird." Azrael lowers his hands, the glow around him fading. "But you're still holding back."

"I don't..." I sigh. "I'm afraid of using too much magic."

"That's exactly why we train." He moves behind me, his frame just hovering as he shifts behind me. "The more you practice together, the better you'll know your limits."

I can feel his presence wrapped around me, warm and steady. Where once him being this close would make me tense, ready to bolt, now I find myself leaning into his guidance.

"Watch carefully." Azrael traces a complex sigil in the air, leaving trails of silvery light. "This enchantment requires precision. One wrong line and the whole spell collapses."

I study the pattern as it hangs suspended before us - intricate swirls and sharp angles forming a design that reminds me offrost on a winter morning. The magic pulses with a gentle rhythm, like a heartbeat.

"Now you try." His voice softens, losing its usual edge. He steps closer, his chest nearly touching my back as he does it again so I can mimic him, follow him through it. "Feel how the energy wants to flow."

The familiar spark of magic dances across my skin as we trace the sigil together. The closeness should make me uncomfortable - every instinct honed from years of mistrust screaming to put distance between myself and this xaphan. But something has shifted.

"Good." His breath stirs my hair. "Now hold that energy - don't let it dissipate."

The sigil glows brighter as I pour more power into it. Azrael's own magic wraps around mine, supporting and strengthening rather than overwhelming. Where our energies meet, the light shifts to a deep purple, beautiful and mesmerizing.

"You're learning quickly." There's a note of approval in his voice that makes my chest warm with pride.

I've been enjoying learning magic. He's also taught me how to use my blades to channel the magic that they hold, and I've been able to sense magic more and more. He says it will help me when it comes to locating the stones in the trials, as well as sensing the traps and barriers set up.

His patience surprises me. The cold, calculating warrior who first agreed to train me seems transformed in these quiet moments. His touch remains gentle as he adjusts my elbow, correcting my form with small, precise movements.

"The key is balance," he murmurs. "Too much force and the spell shatters. Too little and it never takes shape."

I nod, maintaining my focus on the glowing sigil even as I become increasingly aware of his solid presence behind me. Forthe first time since we began training, I feel truly safe in his company.

The sigil flares with unstable energy, its pattern distorting as my concentration wavers. Sweat drips down my temple, muscles trembling from maintaining the complex magical weave for so long.

"Focus," Azrael guides me. "You know what you want it to look like, what you want it to do. Keep that in your mind and force the magic to bend to you."

I grit my teeth, trying to correct the imbalance, but the magic surges wildly. The purple light intensifies, spinning out of control. My knees buckle under the strain.

Strong arms catch me before I hit the stone floor. The sigil shatters in a shower of sparks, sending ripples of power through the air that make my skin tingle. I find myself pressed to Azrael's chest, his wings instinctively curved forward to shield us both and his arms holding me dipped back.

Our faces are so close I can see flecks of silver in his ice-blue eyes. His breath fans across my cheek, warm against my cooling skin. Time seems to slow, the world narrowing to just this moment - the solid strength of his arms around me, the faint glow of residual magic dancing between us.

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