Jerome got up from the ground to face his target from the morning before. The sun was down already, and the night was cool. He felt optimistic; his mind was well-rested and felt robust. This time he was going to crush that goal. Ten paces were no big deal. He took a deep breath and kindled a flame on his palm, bathing the environment in blue light.

“Aim,” Rihal said from behind him.

Jerome lifted his palm, taking aim. He poured out his mental energy, focusing on taking hold of the flame’s core — it was easier said than done. “So I pull on the flame with my mental energy—”

“Not the flame; the core of the flame,” Rihal corrected. “When using your perception this way, you will it to take hold of a physical entity, not pass through. First, use your mental energy to weigh the flame in your hand; get a feel for it. You do that by pushing and pulling on it.”

“Huh,” Jerome muttered in understanding. As he pushed and pulled on the core of the flame, he could feel its weight — or more like the weight of the essence being burned as fuel, the core. He practiced with it for a few breaths of time, even throwing it a few inches into the air, to his surprise.

“The flame starts to die the moment it leaves you, so you’ve got to shoot it as fast as possible and as far as possible. So it can hit the target with as much impact as possible, and cause as much damage as possible,” Rihal said, “...ready?”

Jerome nodded, feeling confident. “That’s a whole lot of ‘possibles’ in two sentences, don’t you think?”

Rihal shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

Jerome scoffed at that. He took aim, compressing and feeding the flame as he pulled on the core, shutting his eyes for maximum concentration. There was no physical reaction; the flame didn’t pull back into his palm and it didn’t change form to give any sign that something was about to happen. But he could feel the tension growing inside him, coiling and stretching.

He released his hold on the tiny ball of flame. He felt it kick back his arm. The force was strong enough to rock him backwards. It shot out a few feet and sputtered out not far from him. “Well, that was…”

“Unimpressive,” Rihal completed his words. “Three out of ten,” he looked at Jerome with a mocking smile.

Jerome scowled, his face reddening with embarrassment and … something else. He got ready again, breathing deeply and stabilizing his breath.

“Take your time,” he heard Rihal say. He let all the sound around him fade away, concentrating only on the fireball on his palm, pulling at it with his mental energy woven around its core.

He kept on weaving his mental energy around the core of the flame, pulling it tighter and tighter. He made sure to pull it taut with a lot more mental energy than he used the first time — perhaps a hundred times more.

Jerome felt dizziness begin to take him and quickly released the tiny ball of flame and felt the kickback, a lot stronger this time. The target exploded in a blue conflagration and a breath later, the energy from the explosion reached them like a shockwave, pushing them back a few paces! A shower of disintegrated rocks fell down from the sky afterward.

“Well, that was…” he stated in shock.

“Ten out of ten,” Rihal said with an approving smile. “Now you learn to fight with it.”

~~~

If he’d thought he’d be able to at least keep up with Rihal now that he was Sprout, he found out that he was gravely mistaken. The man was faster than a cheetah, able to go from zero to at least a hundred miles per hour in a split moment. And he did it all without making so much as a whisper.

“What the fuck do you train in, Rihal,” Jerome said. “You never moved this fast before!” Rihal was like the embodiment of a speedster — like marvel’s Pietro Maximoff in the comics back on earth.

“You’ve only shot two fireballs, Jerome. Eight more without touching me and you lose,” Rihal said as he ran around the arena. Jerome tried to observe and study how he moved without making a sound but Rihal was a faded blur in the little light provided by his blue flame. Even the wind seemed to be still somehow. But he also had to focus on hitting him.

“That’s easy for you to say. It’s really hard to concentrate and fight at the same time,” Jerome responded as he tried to track Rihal. Worse was that he must not flop, because the ladies were watching. And he had already missed his target … twice.

“Hit him, Jerome! You can do it!” Ash screamed from atop a boulder a few dozen paces away, her excitement, palpable. Layla came to watch too, but she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Ash.

Even if he couldn’t hit Rihal, he made up his mind to at least show he had some level of control over fire, and could shoot it however he pleased. He took aim again, trailing the most recent blur with the flame on his palm.

The flame shot off but only reached six feet away before gravity took it over. “Urgh,” he grumbled, and someone burst out laughing in the audience seats.

Layla, he thought, turning red with embarrassment, but he took a deep breath. I shouldn’t be letting this discourage me. Calm down, Jerome, he told himself and took aim again.

Jerome calmed down and let the whole world drop away from him, only focusing on Rihal. Problem was, he was now finding it hard to focus on the fireball. He tried holding both in focus, but it was like trying to read to an audience and write an entirely different article, at the same time.

He persevered, trying to hold both Rihal and the flame in focus. He shot the flame when he thought he saw an opening but the flame sputtered out on his palm, not even shooting out. Jerome raised his head to the sky and roared in frustration. The rest of the night went the same way with no progress, just more six feet shots, or bottom-line failed shots.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it,” Rihal promised as they walked back home. “It’s these little grains that accumulate over time to give your skill a foundation.”

Layla gave him a mocking smile on the way home, which he ignored, and Ash also encouraged him not to give up. Jerome was in his own head, however, wondering where things went wrong. When he created his blue flame, it had been so easy. He felt all was well and he wouldn’t need to try so hard for this. But reality bitchslapped him — hard.

“Jerome?” someone called, breaking him out of his ruminations.

“Huh?”

“You’re muttering to yourself,” Ash said. The look she gave him stunned him for a moment. There was pride there. Joy too. But there was also pity. Or maybe that was his imagination. But he didn’t want to be pitied. He was also done with being angry and bitter all the time so he took a deep breath and calmed himself.

Anger was a choice; a choice that caused those who chose to wallow in it to become twisted versions of themselves. One chose to remain in a particular state of mind; it took conscious effort, and lots of practice. And he’d make sure he didn’t fall back into old ways.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Sure?” she asked and he nodded.

Ash took his arm and clung to him. He felt the warmth of her body against him which made him relax his muscles. He didn’t know he had been that tensed up. He noticed Rihal and Layla had fallen back but they were only a few paces behind. Jerome decided to take this little time to just relax and enjoy the moment.

“This is nice,” he muttered.

“What?” Ash asked.

“Oh. I mean, this,” he said, pulling her closer to himself. “This is nice.”

Ash melted against him, blushing profusely. Her inexperience with a situation like this, showing in her silence. It was cute to watch but he himself had no experience with women. Jerome could hear her heart beating loudly behind the beautiful curves of her chest. Ash was tall, slim and top-heavy, full and bouncy. He drew in a sharp breath and slowly exhaled as his hormones threatened to overpower logic in his mind, forcing blood south of his body.

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“Would you like to come over for a while?”

Ash smiled shyly. “Hmm. I’ll come.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Shit. Now what did he say next? He never expected her to say yes.

~~~

Days passed and Jerome got better at shooting the flame, albeit slowly. Nothing of note had happened since he began training again. He had also not felt anyone stalking him since he created his blue flames — which might be a good thing because he wasn’t confident enough to face another Sprout as he was. The person, whoever they were, might just be afraid to come close.

“Come on, Jerome!” Ash screamed. “Get him!”

Rihal breezed past Jerome hitting him in the shoulder and sending him spinning in the air. Jerome shot a fireball at him as he spun through the air, lighting up the night in blue. Rihal dodged to the side but another fireball closed in on him as he side-stepped.

Jerome landed and immediately cursed as pain shot through his right knee. He took off towards Rihal at a limp, shooting three fireballs in a row at him.

Rihal laughed. “Is this all you got, Jerome,” he taunted. He launched himself into the air before the fireballs reached him and exploded in a flurry of essence. Jerome followed, shooting flames from beneath his boots to launch himself into the air and stay afloat — awkwardly.

Bam!

Rihal hit him as he zoomed past and Jerome almost fell out of the sky. He spun around over and over, his brain was unable to decide which way was up or down. The nighttime sky didn’t help as well. After much effort, he managed to right himself only to see a smiling Rihal coming at him at full speed.

Jerome used his flames to push himself aside and shot another volley of fireballs toward Rihal.

He fell.

“Damnit!” he groaned. He’d forgotten he was spitting flames out of his legs to stay afloat. Right before he hit the ground he steadied himself and shot upwards again, but Rihal attacked, hitting him with a pulse of pure essence, and canceling out his flame. Jerome hit the ground hard and rolled over on his back, groaning in pain.

“Well, that was fun,” Rihal said as he landed beside him.

“Fun for you, torture for me. I’ve never missed Suzie this much before,” Jerome said, struggling to sit up.

“That’s the point of the training, Jerome. You wouldn’t always have Suzie,” Rihal said, chuckling. “But I’m impressed with your improvement.”

Jerome didn’t bother telling him that the flowing steel was a part of him now. But somehow he knew Rihal knew or at least suspected. What with the way he moved and popped out of thin air. Rihal must be keeping him under tight surveillance.

“Are you an assassin, Rihal?” It felt right. The teleportation, the way he ran without making a sound, the fact that he couldn’t sense Rihal’s essence. It all pointed to one thing: stealth.

Rihal froze.

“Ah!” Jerome realized from Rihal’s expression, the answer to his question. “I didn’t… I wasn’t… trying to peek or anything like that.”

“No discussing that around others, Jerome,” Rihal said, looking towards the approaching girls.

“Woo, ooh!” Ash’s voice reached them from a distance, and was getting closer. Jerome could almost swear that her voice could carry farther than normal. She arrived in a flash scattering dirt everywhere. “That was amazing!”

“Thanks, Ash. It seems you’re the only support I have around.” Jerome looked pointedly at the Sprout who followed her. Layla only stuck out her tongue at him.

“How’d you do the flying thing … with the flames coming out of your boots?!” Ash asked excitedly.

“Yeah, how did you do that?” Layla asked. She was curious. “Sprouts can’t fly.”

Jerome smirked at her. Any advantage one could get besides using a flight artifact was a plus. “Get a flight artifact then.”

Layla rolled her eyes at him. “They’re called Sails, Jerome. Don’t be ‘unsavvy’ like an old crone.”

Ouch.

He’d forgotten that. And he’d forgotten that the youth of Farryn basically renamed inventions to fit their taste. Very American, if you asked him.

Jerome stood up, gently enough not to embarrass himself with his knee. God, it hurt to just stand with it but he smiled, feeling good about himself. He had managed not to embarrass himself tonight as he did the previous nights.

“It’s hard. Really hard. But it’s about learning to channel essence at a balanced rate,” he said smiling proudly, “and using the precise intensity of mental energy.”

“Intensity?” Ash asked.

“My mother says that too,” Layla said as they walked toward the exit of the arena.

“Hmm. It’s better to imagine it in intensity than in quantity,” Rihal said, “The quantity is the same — you can’t use more mental energy because it’s relative to your mental capacity, not like essence, which you can control in quantity.”

“So, you combine your mental energy,” Jerome said, kindling a flame on his palm. “And your essence.” He twisted it into a straight rod. “Making sure to apply as much intensity as possible where necessary.” The rod of flame morphed into a sword and he swung it like a physical weapon.

“It’s incredible how you can easily control your essence, though. And it seems you have an endless pool of it,” Layla said, scowling at him. “A few days ago, you were struggling just to shoot a single flame.”

“Well, I’m awesome, aren’t I?” he responded with a knowing smile.

~~~

Over the next few days, Jerome continued with his routine. He had gotten better at it now, as it felt like he was juggling five balls all at once — not impossible, just difficult.

He also visited Ash occasionally for a chat. During one of these conversations, they had a very interesting discussion.

“Are you suggesting that the world is round? That's ridiculous!” Ash exclaimed.

Jerome tried to explain, “Something’s keeping us grounded to the earth, which also prevents us from floating away into space—”

“But what about those who walk close to the edges? They’ll just slide off the sides of the planet!” Ash interrupted him, adamantly arguing her point. “They wouldn’t even know they’re close to a bend on the surface of the planet!”

Jerome gave up arguing with her. He couldn’t even remember why they started talking about celestial bodies in the first place.

“Well, then jump up, Ash,” he said.

“What?” she asked, not getting his point.

“Just do it, I’m tryna prove something,” Jerome urged.

Ash got up from her chair. They were sitting on the terrace of her room in a manor, west of Kilian’s Palace. She jumped up and gravity brought her down immediately. She held up her hands gesturing to Jerome to say, ‘And what’s your point?’

“What pulled you down?” Jerome asked.

“Duh, I can’t fly.”

“So, because you couldn’t fly, you dropped down to the ground,” Jerome stated. “Birds can fly, yet they need to flap their wings to stay afloat, if not they’ll fall down just as you did.”

Ash gave his words some thought for the first time that day, “So what is this thing that pulls us down, then?” she asked with curiosity in her eyes.

Jerome studied her beautiful face with satisfaction. “It’s called gravity. It’s a force that acts on every object on the planet,” he said smiling. He couldn’t have Ash thinking the world was flat. That was just so disturbing. “The sun’s round, as well as the moon, why should the world be any different? Your understanding of the world around you makes you a better sacred artist. That’s how I was able to create a blue flame.”

“Yea, I’d like to be able to do that when I become Sprout,” Ash said, still in thought.

“I’ll teach you.”

“I’ve got to meet up with some other disciples to train with this evening,” Ash said, coming out of her reverie.

“Oh, girls...or boys?”

She smirked and jumped off her terrace, laughing at him. Jerome chuckled and looked down in time to see her land in a perfect stance.

“Don’t overwork yourself!” he called out to her.

“You too!” She replied with a laugh and disappeared from sight.

Jerome leaned back into his seat on Ash's terrace, savoring the refreshing breeze of the winterless Farryn. Rumor had it that a preceding Sovereign of Vorthe had altered the climate of the central region, allowing for optimal farming and animal husbandry. Or at least, Rihal said it was rumored.

It was a feat of godly proportions that left him in awe. He knew that he had to focus on himself, though. The insights he had gained from his training thus far consumed his thoughts—not shooting fireballs though, the other one.

Jerome sighed, “If I keep doing the same thing, I’ll get the same result. No amount of mental energy will change that.”

“How does one mask essence?” he muttered to himself, seemingly speaking to the air. Jerome chuckled at his own absurdity, but then an idea sparked in his mind.

He studied his surroundings, observing the wind’s movements and patterns. Jerome breathed in deeply, inhaling essence with the air. The wind had its own distinct patterns, some of which resembled mini cyclones. That thought struck a chord in Jerome’s heart. He realized there was a pattern in nature, even when there wasn’t one.

“The earth rotates eastwards on its axis and revolves around the sun, the moon revolves around the earth, the sun revolves around the center of the galaxy, and the galaxy revolves around the center of the universe – wherever that may be!”

He raced back to Kilian’s Palace as fast as he could and assumed a lotus position in his room, meditating and cycling until he reached a state of calm.

“Come on, Jerome. You can do this,” he muttered encouragingly. “It’s the little grains that stack up over time to give your foundation a skill … or was it ‘skill a foundation’?”

He surrounded himself with an invisible cocoon of mental energy. This time, however, the cocoon was in motion, rotating around him at a slow pace. It was an uncomfortable experience, and he had to push himself to his limits before collapsing from mental exhaustion.

“That was torture,” he muttered, feeling dizzy. He hit the floor and passed out immediately.