Page 253 of Elemental Becoming

So I do. I walk. I turn. I pivot.

The flame flutters again, wavering at the edges. My pulse quickens.

“Now move through your fighting stances,” he says. “Slowly. Precisely.”

I shift into the first form Thane taught me: low sweep, pivot, rise.

The flame sputters.

I control my breathing and feel the connection between my feet and the earth beneath me.

The fire steadies.

Calryx shifts from foot to foot, a low huff escaping her snout. Her bright emerald eyes track me as I move through the fighting stances, each one etched into my body through months of repetition.

These forms are muscle memory now, as instinctive as breathing. But today, they feel different. Instead, every movement is wrapped around a single point of focus: keeping the flame lit.

“I can’t keep it perfect,” I mutter.

“Good,” Valen says. “Perfection isn’t the point. Stability is. You want to channel without being ruled. Can you feel the difference?”

I nod, even as the flame trembles with my movement. Sweat slips down my back. My arm aches. Every shift in weight ripples through the fire balanced above my palm.

But I keep going. Because now, I see what he’s doing.

This isn’t about the flame.

It’s about me.

I take another careful step, then drop into a low stance, the fire still hovering in my hand. The flame wavers but holds. I force my breathing to stay even, though every ounce of my concentration is fixed on the fire.

“Good,” Valen remarks.

His voice is calm, but I can hear he’s about to make another ask of me.

“Tell me about the night you first wielded all four Elements.”

I glance briefly at him in surprise. “What?”

“Speak it aloud. While you move. While you hold the flame.”

I almost laugh.

“You want me to talk and train?”

“No,” he says. “I want you to stay present while remembering the worst night of your life. And I want you to keep that flame burning while you do it.”

I stiffen. Heat rises to my chest—not from the flame, but from somewhere deeper.

“Why?”

“Because this is what balance actually looks like,” he responds. “It’s not about silence or peace. It’s about clarity under pressure. Stillness in the chaos.”

I grit my teeth.

My legs are already burning. My palm trembles. The flame flutters.

But I move. One step. Then another.