Page 325 of Elemental Becoming

“I heard you had quite the afternoon.”

His lips twitch as though he might smile, but the expression never fully forms. Instead, he exhales through his nose and rubs a hand along his jaw, his fingers lingering there for a moment as though he is working through something he hasn’t quite decided how to say.

I know that look.

Part of him understands exactly what happened in that training hall and why it happened. The other part would have very much preferred that I never stepped onto that mat at all.His grip tightens slightly against his knee, the only outward sign of the battle happening beneath the surface.

His eyes find mine. “Are you okay?”

Not “Are you hurt?”Or, “What were you thinking?”

I glance down at the water, watching the last ripples fade across the surface. My bruises still ache, but the healing has already begun. The soreness lingers, but it feels distant somehow.

I should feel exhausted. Instead, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.

When I lift my gaze back to his, I find the same quiet concern waiting there.

“Yeah,” I say.

A small smile touches my lips.

“I think I actually am.”

Thane reaches out, his fingers barely grazing my skin as he brushes the back of his hand against the healing gash on my cheek. The cut has already closed, but I can still feel the raised ridge of skin and dull ache of a forming bruise beneath his touch.

I feel his relief through the bond, warm and gentle as it settles between us.

Thane chuckles, low and warm, shaking his head as if he’s given up trying to make sense of me. I catch the faintest flicker of amusement in the bond.

He leans forward slightly, watching me.

“So Ardyn challenged you to a Firebrand.”

A slow exhale escapes him, followed by another shake of his head, that lingering smile still tugging at his lips.

“And you won.”

I look at him, brows arched. “A Firebrand?”

Thane nods, the smile fading slightly. “Yes. It’s an old rite. Goes back centuries.”

Rowena’s words come back to me:“It’s the Fire Clan way.”

He shifts, resting his forearms on his thighs, his fingers loosely interlaced.

“The Firebrand was never just about fighting. It began as a way to settle disputes, rivalries, challenges of status, or questions of leadership.”

His gaze flickers toward the water, as if tracing old memories.

“Back then, it was brutal. A fight until one challenger couldn’t stand. Sometimes until death.” He exhales through his nose. “The Fire Clan has changed, but some traditions never faded. A Firebrand is still a fight, but it’s always been about more than that. It’s a test of presence. Of will.”

He lifts his eyes back to mine.

“Anyone can train their body to throw a punch. Anyone can learn to fight. But not everyone can stand before their people bruised, exhausted, and bleeding and still command their respect.”

His voice lowers slightly, the way it does when someone is speaking from experience and not simply from tradition.

“The people watching aren’t really judging the fight itself. They’re judging the person standing in the middle of it. They’re asking themselves who breaks when things become difficult. Who stands back up. Who they would trust to stand beside them when everything falls apart. Firebrand isn’t really about defeating the person across from you. It’s about proving that you belong. Not just to the people watching, but to yourself.”