Page 32 of Elemental Becoming

FIVE

On Stillness and Silence. There is a duplicity in silence and stillness—often mistaken for passivity. But a student must learn both. The one who remains silent in the face of tyranny stands in stark contrast to the voice that rises with prophetic clarity. And yet, there is equal power in the quiet of a warrior, poised and holding back, as there is futility in the clamor of those who speak only to fill the void. True mastery of power lies with the one who knows when to be silent, when to act, and when to simply be still.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

We arrived at the capital only a few hours ago, and Valen immediately insisted on a study session. So here we are, seated in his chambers with books spread across the table between us.

The nap helped, but Garrick’s interruption left me distracted in all the wrong ways. Every attempt to focus on the text in front of me ends with my thoughts wandering back to Thane and everything we didn’t finish.

Now I’m supposed to be concentrating on ancient magics.

Valen raps his knuckles against the table, jolting me back to the present. His expression is one of weary patience stretched dangerously thin.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m still exhausted from bringing Lyra back from the dead.”

The words leave my mouth before I truly hear them. Bringing Lyra back from the dead. My stomach sinks.

Lyra . . . was dead.

Valen’s expression softens.

“I know, my girl. I truly do.” He lets the silence linger for a heartbeat before his gaze hardens once more. “But this is war. It won’t wait for your grief, your exhaustion, or your fear.”

He folds his hands on the table.

“There may come another day when someone you love stands at death’s door.”

My eyes widen to impossible proportions, but Valen continues as though he hasn’t just suggested I’ll be resurrecting people with alarming regularity.

“And you need to be ready for all of it.” His voice remains maddeningly calm. “That’s my duty. To prepare you.”

He lowers his gaze to the book before him and turns it so I can see.

The pages are filled with meticulous sketches of channelers caught in motion. Each pose gives rise to a different manifestation of the Elements. One figure sweeps both arms overhead, drawing water into a spiraling cyclone. Another plants their feet wide, one fist driving toward the ground as jagged stone erupts beneath them. A third extends both hands outward, ribbons of fire curling from their fingertips.

Valen taps the image of the water channeler.

“Wielding requires little more than thought,” he says. “Perhaps a flick of the wrist or the curl of a finger. Channeling is different.”

His finger traces the figure’s sweeping arms.

“The greater the magics, the more of the body it demands. Thought gives the magics direction. Intention gives it purpose. Movement gives it form.”

He turns the page, revealing dozens more illustrations—earth, air, fire, and water, each expressed through different stances, gestures, and flowing movements.

I linger over the drawings, recognizing some of the motions I’ve seen Thane and the other channelers use in battle. A few are movements I’ve made myself, guided only by instinct. Many more are entirely unfamiliar.

“The challenge for us is discovering movements that allow you to channel all four Elements at once.” Valen rests a hand on the page. “There are no records of anyone ever doing it. We can study what came before, borrow what works, and create everything else ourselves.”

I look up from the book, a thought occurring to me.

“Valen, why haven’t you shown me this before? Why am I only learning it now?”

He smiles, a hint of pride softening his features.

“You always ask the right questions.” He folds his hands together. “Because, my girl, until now we’ve barely had time tosurvive. Every lesson has been dictated by whatever crisis was trying to kill us next.” A quiet chuckle escapes him. “There is still so much for me to teach you . . . and just as much for us to discover together.”