Page 28 of Tempest Rising

I picked up the wooden chopsticks, twirling them between my fingers. I should’ve been starving after the beating I’d taken in the arena. But as I stared at the food, a wave of emptiness washed over me. There was no hunger, no appetite. Just… frustration.

Theron's words still rang in my ears.You're not ready, Tess. You’re not enough.

I clenched the chopsticks tighter, the wood pressing into my skin. I knew I wasn’t perfect. I knew I had a long way to go. But the way he said it, like I wasn’t evencloseto deserving this… it felt like a punch to the gut. Every damn time I thought I wasmaking progress, someone had to swoop in and remind me that I was stilljust human.Still inadequate. Still weak.

I stabbed at the rice, barely managing a mouthful, but the food tasted like ash in my mouth. I set the chopsticks down with a sigh, closing my eyes, trying to breathe—but the pressure in my chest wouldn’t let up.

This wasn’t new. I’d felt this before.

You’re not good enough, Tess.The words weren’t Theron’s. They were my mother’s. Her voice, cold and clinical, always there to slice through any hint of pride I'd ever managed to muster.

And then there was my sister—perfect Madison. The golden child. She never had to be told she wasn’t enough because she alwayswas.Always graceful, always composed, always everything I wasn’t. Whenever I made a mistake, she'd just watch with that look in her eyes—like she pitied me, like I was a stray dog that would never belong.

That feeling... that bone-deep sense of inadequacy... it had lived inside me for years, gnawing at the edges of every success, reminding me I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in my family. Not in this world.

I thought I’d escaped it. I thought by coming here, I’d finally left that behind. But the weight of it still clung to me, dragging me down. I could hear their voices in the back of my head now, just as clearly as if they stood beside me.

You’ll never be enough, no matter how hard you try.

The familiar sting of tears prickled behind my eyes, but I forced them back, swallowing the lump in my throat. Crying wouldn’t fix this. Crying wouldn’t make me stronger. If anything, it would just prove them right.Prove Theron right.

I needed to be better. I needed to prove them all wrong. Maybe if I trained harder, worked faster, kept my head down and perfected every skill, they’d finally see my value. Maybe then... maybe then I’d be worthy of the dragons. Of the Guild. Of this whole damned life.

I bit my lip, my mind racing already with ways I could adjust. Work harder on my reflexes. Memorize every battle tactic I could get my hands on. Maybe I could ask Kane to show me more, push me harder. I could—

“You’re doing well considering the circumstances,”a voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, deep and certain, like the steady beat of a drum.

Thalon.

“But you’re not letting yourself feel it, Tess. You keep pushing, but you’re not present. What is it you’re really running from?”

His question hit me harder than I expected. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the tightness that had formed in my chest.

What was I running from?

I was on the edge of something—something raw and ugly, something I couldn’t quite name. There was the sharp sting ofnot being enough, that maddening whisper in the back of my mind that no matter how hard I tried, it would never matter.

But edging on that grief was something else, something more volatile—anger. Anger at being judged when I wasdoing well, all things considered. Anger at being dismissed, as if my efforts were a joke, a game I was failing.

I gripped the chopsticks tighter, the wood pressing into my palms.

“Feel it,”Thalon urged, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.“Don’t push it down. Don’t pretend it isn’t there.”

My breath hitched, frustration gnawing at the edges of my resolve. I wanted to do better, to be better. But maybe... maybe Thalon was right. Maybe I wasn’t letting myselfbe—wasn’t letting myself feel the fury, the sadness.

I was always too busy trying to prove something.

“It’s okay to feel it, little one,”Thalon said, his presence a constant warmth, steadying me.“You’re not as alone in this as you think.”

I clenched my fists, my gaze lowering to the floor as a tight heat coiled in my chest, building like pressure in a sealed jar. The air seemed heavier now, vibrating faintly as if responding to my roiling emotions.

I looked inward, and there it was—my magic. It churned wildly, untethered, like storm clouds massing just before thunder ripped across the sky. There was power there. Raw, chaotic, and waiting for me to stop ignoring it.

Before I could even fully process the weight of Thalon’s words—a soft knock sounded at the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. But when the door creaked open, and I caught sight of him, my breath hitched. Kane stood framed in the doorway, his presence as sharp and commanding as ever.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms that flexed as he shifted his stance. The fabric hugged his lean, swimmer's build with such precision it was nearly criminal, the faint curve of defined muscles visible through the dark material. His white hair was as impossibly pristine as ever, a stark contrast to the deep blue-violet of his eyes that locked ontomine. Somehow, he managed to look effortlessly composed, yet utterly devastating.

I wasn’t sure if the air actually changed or if it was just me, but the room seemed to hold its breath along with mine. For a beat too long, he said nothing, just standing there, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that bordered on unnerving. Or maybe... thrilling.

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