Hours have passed since the horse thundered by, its presence still lingering faintly in my thoughts. In the meantime, I’ve been practicing with Red Water, concentrating on control and finesse. Henrik watches from a distance, occasionally offering a word or two of advice. He may not understand this power, but his experience with magic makes his insight invaluable.

The door creaks open, and my heart skips a beat. I quickly absorb the Red Water and turn to face the intruder. It’s Laura. She steps in, her expression softer than I expected, almost content.

“How did it go?” I ask, eager but cautious.

“I think I did better than last time,” she replies, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of pride. “It was scary, but knowing no one was close enough to get hurt made it… less terrifying.”

Henrik looks Laura up and down, his expression unreadable as always. He pauses, as if weighing his thoughts, before standing abruptly. Without a word, he grabs an empty mug from the table, fills it with water from the nearby bucket, and places it firmly in Laura’s hands.

“Freeze it,” he says plainly.

“What? No, no, no!” she stammers, her breathing quickening. “I can’t do that.”

Her panic is evident, her hands trembling slightly as she clutches the mug.

Henrik steps forward and firmly places his hands on Laura’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. His expression hardens further, a rare intensity in his eyes. Laura looks utterly terrified, her hands trembling so much that the water in the mug ripples.

“It hurts!” she cries out, her voice breaking.

I stand up instinctively, my body tense with the urge to intervene. Henrik’s head snaps toward me, his gaze sharp and commanding, freezing me in place. It’s a silent warning—he doesn’t want me interfering.

I shift uneasily, torn between respecting his methods and my growing discomfort. Is this really the right way to help her? I struggle to not turn away as Laura squirms under his tight grip.

“Do you feel that, lass?” Henrik growls, his voice low and foreboding. “How hot my hands are? It’s almost burning, isn’t it?”

Laura’s breathing becomes shallow and erratic. “Please, let go,” she pleads, her voice trembling as she squirms against his grip.

His expression darkens as he leans closer, his tone rising like a crack of thunder. “If you don’t fight back, you will boil alive!” he shouts directly into her face.

Laura turns to me, her tear-streaked face pleading silently. Her eyes, wide and desperate, beg me to step in, but I remain still. My face, though calm, hides my own uncertainty. Is this really the right thing to do? Is it even safe for me to stay here?

“You’re acting like a child,” I say flatly, keeping my voice as devoid of emotion as possible.

Her expression shifts instantly. The desperation vanishes, replaced by a chilling emptiness. It’s as though my words, coming from the one person she trusts, have cut deeper than Henrik’s heat ever could. I feel the weight of my betrayal, but I don’t flinch.

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I’m sorry, Laura. I don’t like this any more than you do, but I agree with Henrik. And maybe—just maybe—there’s a sliver of morbid curiosity in me, wondering how far this will go.

Laura’s gaze shifts back to Henrik. Her red, tear-swollen eyes glisten with a hint of something new—determination. Slowly, she mirrors his stance, dropping the mug and placing her trembling hands on his shoulders. The room’s warmth vanishes instantly, replaced by an icy chill that prickles my skin. A literal shiver races down my spine.

“That’s it, lass! Show me what you’re capable of!” Henrik snarls, his tone dripping with provocation.

The temperature begins to fluctuate wildly. One moment, the room is sweltering with the heat of Henrik’s Blue Flame; the next, it’s freezing cold, the air sharp enough to bite. Their powers collide in an invisible struggle, a silent battle of dominance.

The fluctuations come to an abrupt halt as Henrik’s body begins to glow, a soft yet intense blue aura radiating from him like an otherworldly flame. The heat rises sharply, enveloping the room in an oppressive warmth. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I instinctively take a step back.

Laura’s eyes widen, the implications of Henrik’s display dawning on her. Her breath escapes in frosty wisps, and tiny red crystals form along her skin. The room cools rapidly, the sharp bite of her magic chasing away the suffocating heat.

Without warning, Henrik explodes into an infernal blaze, his Blue Flame roaring to life with an intensity that shakes the very foundation of the room. The force sends everything not nailed down flying. A heavy pot, once perched on the fireplace, strikes me hard in the ribs, knocking me to the ground with a groan.

Laura responds in kind, her red aura erupting around her like a storm of frost and fury. Steam rises from her body as the opposing forces clash, their raw energies filling the room with chaotic heat and icy tension.

I curl into myself on the ground, shielding my head from the flying debris. Splinters of wood, shattered pottery, and shards of ice rain down, the lukewarm air around me a stark and surreal contrast to the chaotic extremes unfolding above.

“Is that all? To be scared of yourself just shows how pathetic you are!” Henrik shouts, his voice barely audible over the maelstrom tearing through the room.

The chaos crescendos as the air shifts sharply. The cold biting through my clothes and stinging my skin. My breath fogs as the temperature plummets.

Laura’s screams pierce the cacophony, raw and visceral, as her aura intensifies. The red frost surges outward, consuming everything in its wake. Crystals form along the walls, frost creeping over every surface. Henrik, unyielding, braces against the onslaught, his Blue Flame roaring brighter still.

Suddenly, my vision is overwhelmed by a flash of brilliant white with a hint of blue, and the chaos stops as abruptly as it started. The flying pots and pans crash to the ground, the cacophony giving way to an eerie stillness.

As my sight clears, I see magnificent blue flames dancing along the walls. They flicker and swirl, their ethereal beauty rivaling the high priest’s flame and the Goddess’s display in the ritual chamber. The warmth they radiate is comforting—like the first rays of spring sunshine melting a winter’s frost.

I stagger to my feet, awestruck by the scene. My gaze shifts to Henrik, who stands amidst the tranquil glow, holding an unconscious Laura in his arms. His weathered face is softened by a gentle smile beneath his thick mustache.

This is the true magic of this world. No matter how strong Laura's raw power may be, she is no match against a true master of their craft.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice carrying a mix of awe and apprehension.

Henrik doesn’t answer. Instead, he carefully scoops Laura up in his arms, her small frame seeming even more fragile in his sturdy grasp. He walks to the bed and lays her down gently. Despite everything that just transpired, her expression looks peaceful.

The door bursts open, slamming against the wall as Hubbert storms in. He’s out of breath, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the chaos—the shattered pots, scattered tools, and singed edges of the furniture.

"What the hell happened?!" he shouts, his voice tinged with fear. "I thought your house was going to explode!”

"The lad wanted a demonstration of magic," Henrik says with a shrug. He gestures toward Laura, still unconscious on the bed. "And the poor lass fainted."

Hubbert blinks, visibly confused, then mutters, "Oh."

I stare at both men in disbelief, my jaw threatening to drop. That’s it? No further questions? I can’t believe such a flimsy explanation worked.

"Anyway," Hubbert says, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I’ve got news."