Page 66 of Tempest Blazing
"Golden Shield into a defensive dome," I outlined in clipped terms, pacing a slow circle around her. "Then immediately flip to Shadow Fire. No hesitation, no breathing room. If you can't control the switch, you'll be useless in a real fight."
Her mouth tightened, but she didn't flinch. Just nodded with that sharp-eyed determination that made my chest tighten.
This is getting out of hand. Dangerous.
"If you can't handle the pressure—" I started.
"I can handle it," she cut me off, magic already beginning to flicker around her fingers like golden sparks.
I folded my arms tighter across my chest and stepped back to give her room. "Prove it."
Tess closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself the way I'd taught her. When she opened them again, her hands were glowing with warm, golden light. The shield flared to life around her—a perfect dome of energy that hummed with controlled power.
I didn't give her time to admire her work. I circled her like a predator, slamming waves of magical pressure against the barrier to test its strength. The shield held, bending but not breaking.
"Again," I commanded before the energy had even begun to fade, forcing her to summon Shadow Fire while still breathless from maintaining the shield.
Her magic flared purple-black, wild and scorching, dark flame licking at the air around her hands. The transition was rough—I could see the strain in the tight line of her shoulders—but she managed it.
"She has natural instincts," Yrdren's voice echoed in my head with a low, amused rumble. "Perhaps better than her teacher's were at that age."
Thalon's response came with quiet pride threading through the mental connection."She trusts the magic instead of fighting it. That is... unusual for one so new."
I ignored them both, focusing on the way Tess's magic wavered as she tried to hold the Shadow Fire steady. Her control was improving, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.
"Faster," I barked, throwing another wave of pressure at her defenses. "In a real fight, your enemies won't wait for you to catch your breath."
Tess stumbled slightly as I forced her to increase the tempo, sweat beading her forehead, hands trembling with the effort of channeling magic that was still too new, too unpredictable. But she didn't quit. She never quit.
I threw another wave of magic at her—brutal and sharp, designed to overwhelm rather than test. She met it with a pulse of gold that sang through the air, slicing my spell apart with almost careless grace.
The ease of it made something in my chest recoil. Her power was raw, yes—but it was resonant in a way that set my teeth on edge. Beautiful and unstable and completely forbidden.
I stepped closer, voice low and cold. "Again. Don't let it get to your head."
But my own heartbeat betrayed me, thudding louder than it should as she looked up at me with those too-bright eyes. The space between us felt charged, electric with more than just the residual magic crackling in the air.
She has Mason,I reminded myself harshly.She doesn't need you—and you sure as hell don't need this complication.
Tess nodded, panting, magic flickering at her fingertips like dying embers. Her knees buckled slightly, but she straightened them through sheer force of will. I watched her grit through the exhaustion, and something in my chest twisted painfully.
Every time she rose to meet my challenges, the world tilted a little more off its axis. And I was the bastard pushing her toward the breaking point because I was too much of a coward to admit what this was doing to me.
But something had shifted in her approach over the past few days. Where she'd once hesitated, asking questions about technique or seeking reassurance, now she simply executed. Her magic had become more precise, more disciplined—but also more isolated. She no longer glanced toward Thalon for encouragement or looked to me for approval. Instead, she worked with a cold efficiency that reminded me uncomfortably of myself.
The change should have pleased me. This was what I'd been pushing for—strategic thinking, emotional control, the kind of mental discipline that kept Riders alive. But watching her shut down everything soft and vulnerable about herself felt like watching a light slowly dim.
Her next strike came fast but imprecise, too emotionally charged. The Shadow Fire lashed out wild and unfocused, leaving her open.
"You're losing control," I barked, trying to provoke her into the kind of angry focus that might sharpen her technique. "That's what gets Riders killed."
But she didn't lash out the way I expected. Instead, she centered herself, drew in a deep breath, and reshaped her shield with deliberate precision. The golden dome reformed around her, steady and strong.
The movement was flawless—and completely devoid of the instinctive joy I'd seen in her magic before. She was mastering the techniques, yes, but at the cost of something essential. Something that made her who she was.
Damn it.
I pushed harder, because I had to. Because if she broke now, Silvius would destroy her. And if she didn't break—she might break me instead.
