The frozen morning air was harsh, cutting through Zarin’s cloak as he stood facing the expanse of the Wastes. The vastness of the land stretched endlessly, a reminder of the challenges that still lay ahead, and the battles they had yet to face. But right now, Zarin wasn’t focused on the Spire, or even on the dangers lurking in the frozen wilderness. His focus was inward—on the storm of power swirling inside him, a force that had been both a gift and a curse.
"Again," Maros commanded, his voice sharp.
Zarin gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching as he reached for the power within. It came easily, rushing to the surface like a flood, ready to be unleashed. But controlling it—that was the challenge. The more he tapped into it, the more it seemed to want to consume him, to take over.
A pulse of raw energy shot out from Zarin’s hands, colliding with the target Maros had conjured—a hovering orb of light suspended in the air. The blast hit the target, but the force was wild, unfocused. The orb flickered but didn’t shatter, and Zarin cursed under his breath, feeling the burn of frustration in his chest.
“You’re pushing too hard,” Maros said, his tone calm but firm. “The magic inside you is not something you can force. It responds to balance, to intention. You’re treating it like a weapon—something to strike with—but it’s more than that.”
Zarin clenched his fists, the energy still crackling beneath his skin. He could feel it—this immense, untapped power that he had only just begun to understand. But every time he tried to control it, it slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him feeling powerless despite the raw strength.
“How am I supposed to balance something this strong?” Zarin snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “It’s not like I’ve had years to learn this, Maros! I spent my whole life thinking I had nothing—and now you expect me to just control all of this?”
Maros’ gaze didn’t waver, his eyes sharp as ever. “Control isn’t about force. It’s about understanding. You have to know why you’re using the power. You can’t just let it answer your anger or your fear.”
Zarin’s heart pounded in his chest. He was angry. Angry at the Ascendants, angry at the power that had been kept from him, angry at himself for not being able to master it as quickly as he needed to.
"Then how?" Zarin asked, his voice quieter now, almost defeated. "How do I control something like this when I don’t even know where it comes from?"
Maros’ expression softened, just for a moment. “That’s what you have to discover for yourself. The magic is part of you, Zarin. You’ve spent so long fighting against it—thinking of it as something separate, something you need to wield. But it’s not separate. It’s as much a part of you as your own heart.”
Zarin’s breath came in ragged bursts, his mind swirling with the weight of Maros’ words. Could he really see the magic as something more? As a part of himself rather than a weapon he had to master?
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Before he could answer, Reya approached, her sword in hand. She had been sparring against illusions conjured by Maros, honing her physical skills. But now she stood beside Zarin, her expression unreadable, though her brow was furrowed in concentration.
“I’ve never been one for this kind of talk,” Reya said, her voice steady but distant. “But I think Maros has a point. Every time I fight, I know exactly why I’m fighting. It’s not about the blade or the strength—it’s about the purpose behind it. That’s where the real power comes from.”
Zarin glanced at her, feeling the weight of her words sink in. Reya was a fighter, through and through. But beneath the hardened exterior, she understood something he hadn’t yet grasped: purpose.
“What about you?” Zarin asked, the question surprising even him. “How do you stay so focused?”
Reya shifted, her eyes darkening slightly. She hesitated before answering. “I fight because it’s the only thing I’ve ever known. I’ve seen too many people fall because they weren’t strong enough, weren’t fast enough. But it’s more than just fighting for survival.”
Zarin waited, sensing that Reya was on the edge of something she hadn’t shared before.
“I fight because it’s my way of keeping control,” she continued, her voice low. “If I can keep my blade sharp, if I can keep my skills honed, then I don’t have to think about the things I can’t control. The people I couldn’t save.”
Zarin’s heart tightened at her words. He had always seen Reya as invincible—someone who could face any challenge without flinching. But now he realized that her strength came from a different place. She fought to keep her own demons at bay, just as much as she fought to protect those around her.
Maros stepped forward, his gaze shifting between them. “Control isn’t about avoiding the things you fear,” he said softly, “or using power to push them away. It’s about facing them. The Spire will test you in ways that force you to confront what lies within, not what lies outside.”
Zarin’s throat tightened as Maros’ words sank in. He had been trying to control the magic by pushing it outward—by making it something to fight against. But maybe Maros was right. Maybe the real struggle was within.
“I’m afraid of it,” Zarin admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m afraid of what this power will turn me into. Of losing control.”
Reya glanced at him, her eyes softening slightly. “You’re not alone in that. We’re all afraid of losing control.”
Maros nodded, his expression solemn. “But fear doesn’t have to rule you. It can guide you—if you let it. You must learn to balance the fear with purpose. Only then will you truly control the power.”
Zarin took a deep breath, his mind racing. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, but beneath it, he could feel something else. A flicker of determination. A sense of purpose. He wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was fighting for his family, for Reya, for everyone who had been caught in the Ascendants’ web of power.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the ruins, Maros stepped back, his voice calm but filled with a quiet intensity. “We’ll continue tomorrow. But remember this: the power inside you is not your enemy. It’s a part of you. And until you accept that, you’ll never truly be free.”
Zarin nodded, though the weight of those words lingered in the air long after Maros had walked away. He exchanged a glance with Reya, who gave him a small nod of understanding. They were both on this journey together, and though their struggles were different, they were bound by the same need for control—for purpose.
As night fell, Zarin found himself staring at the stars, wondering what lay ahead in the Spire, and how he would face it. The path was uncertain, but for the first time, he felt a spark of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, he could master the storm inside him.