Three pairs of eyes turn to me - Dumitra's calculating, Ioana's curious, and Virginia's still wide with fear.

"Oh, you did far more than that, little one," Dumitra says, her tone a mixture of awe and exasperation. "You displayed quite unique gifts."

Virginia nods emphatically, some of her fear giving way to indignation. "You picked me up and threw me into that tree without even touching me! And when I tried to use my powers to disorient you, you just... you just... slapped my powers away with a gesture and reversed them somehow. I felt like I was falling upward into the sky!"

Well, shit. Looks like I went full poltergeist on them. Remind me never to take psychedelic herbs from vampire twins again.

"I'm... I'm sorry," I stammer, the words feeling wholly inadequate. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know I could..."

"Of course you didn't," Dumitra interjects smoothly. "That's precisely why we're here, after all. To help you understand and control these abilities."

Virginia makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "Control? You think that... that force can be controlled? Mother, it was like trying to contain a storm with a butterfly net!"

"Every storm can be weathered, my dear," Dumitra replies, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Even the mightiest tempest eventually blows itself out."

"So what happens now?" I ask, forcing myself to meet Dumitra's gaze. "How do we... how do I make sure this doesn't happen again?"

Dumitra scoffs, her ruby eyes flashing with amusement. "Happen again? Not likely," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This little... incident only occurred due to the herb and your first awakening. It's not as if you'll be flying off the handle every time you stub your toe."

I can't help but feel a twinge of irritation at her flippant tone. This 'little incident' nearly got us all killed, for fuck's sake.

"How do you feel?" Dumitra asks, her gaze piercing through me.

I take a moment to assess my body, which feels like it's been put through a meat grinder. "Tired," I mutter. "Nauseous. Terrible." I pause, trying to find the words to describe the bizarre sensory experience I'm having. "And... everything I look at, I can 'taste' it. Vividly. As if I was licking the damn thing."

Dumitra's eyebrows shoot up, a look of intrigue crossing her face. "Fascinating," she murmurs. "Based on what I've seen so far, you must be a sight and gesture mage."

I tilt my head, confusion momentarily overriding my discomfort. "Sight and gesture?"

Ioana steps forward, her emerald eyes gleaming with excitement. "Sight means that your power requires you to look at something for it to work," she explains, her melodic voice filled with enthusiasm. "And gesture means you have to perform some movements with your hand to activate it."

Great. So I'm basically a magical conductor, waving my hands around like a lunatic to make shit happen. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Dumitra nods, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "My gift works similarly to yours, albeit with sight and sound. I need to see my target and use my voice to activate it."

"I believe you're manipulating the wind to fly and do what you just did," Dumitra continues, her tone thoughtful. "Your gifts probably manifest as hands formed from wind - constructs of some sort that cannot be seen with the naked eye."

Wind hands? What the actual fuck? I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in some bizarre anime, complete with invisible wind appendages. This can't be real.

Virginia, still visibly shaken, speaks up from her position in Dumitra's lap. "She should be killed before she harms anyone," she hisses, her emerald eyes filled with fear and anger. "Or at least cut her hands off so she can never activate that power again."

Before I can react, Dumitra stands up abruptly, unceremoniously dumping Virginia onto the ground. With a swift motion, she kicks her daughter in the stomach. "Stop being so dramatic," she snarls. "You wouldn't have died even if Lile had cut your head off or crushed your body to a pulp."

Jesus Christ, talk about tough love. I watch as Virginia curls into herself, gasping for air. Part of me wants to intervene, but the rational part of my brain reminds me that getting between a vampire and her offspring is probably not the wisest move.

Ioana sighs, shaking her head. "Virginia is just afraid of dying, even if there's no risk of it," she explains, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"What do you mean?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Vampires can only be killed if their hearts are destroyed," Ioana says matter-of-factly. "Your powers could have killed Virginia if you were more controlled, but there was no such risk in this case."

She gestures towards a nearby tree, and my jaw drops as I take in the sight. The massive trunk has been cleanly sliced in half, as if cut by some impossibly sharp blade. "That's what Virginia had to dodge," Ioana adds.

Holy shit. I did that? With... wind hands? How the hell does that even work? I try to wrap my mind around the concept, but it's like trying to grasp smoke. How can wind, even if shaped like hands, cut through solid wood like that?

"Do not move your hands one bit," Dumitra commands suddenly, her voice sharp. "We're not yet sure what the activation mechanism for your gifts is."

I freeze instantly, my hands hovering awkwardly in mid-air. Great, now I'm stuck like some bizarre statue, afraid to so much as twitch a finger.

"You can close your eyes if you want to move your hands for now," Dumitra adds, her tone softening slightly. "But first, I need to take a breather."

Grateful for the reprieve, I close my eyes and carefully lower myself to the ground, placing my hands on my body. "Wind hands," I mutter, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "What a ridiculous name."

Dumitra chuckles. "It's just a placeholder name and a hypothesis," she says. "But the hand prints in the ground of the meadow only serve as a hint, plus the gestures you were making with your hands as well."

I lie there, my mind shifting into analytical mode as I process Dumitra's hypothesis. The concept of "wind hands" seems primitive at first glance, but it warrants further investigation. The observed phenomena - flight, object manipulation, and the ability to create clean cuts through solid matter - suggest a more complex mechanism at play.

Hypothesis 1: Localized Atmospheric Pressure Manipulation

If I'm able to create extreme localized areas of high and low pressure, it could explain both the lifting force for flight and the cutting effect. Rapid pressure differentials could potentially create shear forces strong enough to slice through wood fibers.

Hypothesis 2: Molecular-Level Kinetic Energy Control

Perhaps what appears as "wind" is actually fine-tuned control over the kinetic energy of air molecules. By accelerating molecules in specific patterns, I could theoretically create invisible constructs capable of exerting force on solid objects.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Hypothesis 3: Quantum Field Manipulation

The most advanced possibility is that I'm somehow influencing quantum fields to create macro-scale effects. This could explain the apparent violation of classical physics, such as invisible forces acting at a distance.

Observed Evidence:

1. Handprints in the ground suggest a defined shape to the force being exerted.

2. The clean cut through the tree indicates a highly focused application of energy.

3. The correlation between hand gestures and effects implies a psychokinetic component.

Further experimentation is clearly needed to determine the exact nature and limitations of these abilities. Key questions include:

- What is the maximum force that can be exerted?

- Is there a range limitation?

- How does my mental state affect the power output?

- Can the effect be sustained, or is it limited to short bursts?

The potential applications of such an ability, once properly understood and controlled, are staggering. From a scientific standpoint, this could revolutionize our understanding of fundamental forces. From a practical perspective... well, the possibilities are both exciting and terrifying.

Dumitra's exasperated sigh cuts through my racing thoughts. "Listen well, child," she says, her voice carrying a weight of centuries. "What I'm about to tell you, you must commit to memory. 'Tis crucial for your survival."

I nod, my eyes still closed, focusing on her words.

"Each mortal mage," Dumitra continues, "possesses a finite number of times they can use their gifts before succumbing to fatigue. Exceed this limit, and death awaits."

A chill runs down my spine. Great, another way to die in this medieval hellscape. As if the constant threat of disease, starvation, and random violence wasn't enough.

"How does one know when they're approaching this limit?" I ask, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Head pain and a bleeding nose are the harbingers of such fatigue," Dumitra replies. "Heed these warnings, lest you push yourself too far."

I can't help but wonder if there's a way around this inconvenient limitation. "Is there any method to increase this limit?" I ask, hoping for some good news.

"Indeed," Dumitra says, a hint of approval in her tone. "Like any muscle, your gifts can be trained and strengthened through use. The more you practice, the more you can accomplish before fatigue sets in."

Well, that's something at least. Though the idea of "training" potentially deadly magical abilities sounds about as safe as juggling nitroglycerin.

"Great," I mutter, "so I have to look out for that whenever I use my gifts. But what about you? Do vampires have the same limitations?"

Dumitra's laugh is low and musical. "We are mostly exempt from such rules, thanks to our rapid healing. However, using our gifts does make us thirstier for blood, as the healing process depletes that specific resource."

Balance in all things, I suppose. Even supernatural beings can't escape the laws of equivalent exchange. It's almost comforting, in a twisted way, to know that even vampires have their limits.

"Now, onto the next matter," Dumitra says, her tone businesslike. "Ioana, if you would?"

I hear Ioana clear her throat before speaking. "The activation mechanism for gifts is typically tied to volatile emotions," she begins, her voice soft and melodic. "Love is a common trigger, as are joy, excitement, and passion. In fact, all the activation emotions I've ever encountered or seen in Mother's memories have been positive in nature."

Ioana pauses, and I can almost hear the frown in her voice as she continues. "I've never met or seen anyone in Mother's memories who uses their gifts through negative emotions."

Sunshine and rainbows, huh? That's... unexpected. I would have thought fear or anger would be more likely to trigger latent abilities. Some sort of fight-or-flight response cranked up to eleven. But if it's all positive emotions, where does that leave me?

"I understand," I say slowly, "but where does that put me?"

"That's the fun part," Ioana replies, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Virginia chimes in, her tone sardonic. "It's all up to luck now. Finding out the activation mechanism usually takes months or years... however."

"However," Dumitra interjects, "you were consumed by rage during your entire rampage. It's very likely that anger or hatred opens the floodgates for you."

Well, isn't that just peachy? Of course I'd be the exception to the rule. Can't have anything nice and simple in this fucked-up world, can we?

"So you think that me getting angry enables me to use the gestures?" I ask, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," Dumitra replies simply. "Now, open your eyes and look at the sky. Tell me how it 'tastes'."

I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness. As my gaze settles on the vast expanse above, a riot of sensations floods my mind. "It's... it's like a blend of crisp apple and fresh mint," I begin, struggling to put the bizarre experience into words. "There's an underlying sweetness, like honey, but also a sharp tang that reminds me of lemon zest. The clouds... they're like wisps of cotton candy, melting on my tongue."

"That sounds like a beautiful taste," Ioana says, her voice filled with wonder.

"Yes, it is wonderful," I agree, still marveling at the sensory overload. "But..."

Virginia's chuckle interrupts my thoughts. "Wait until you lay your eyes on a pile of turds," she says, her tone wickedly amused.

Christ, I hadn't even considered that. This 'gift' is going to make walking through the village an absolute nightmare. I can already imagine the taste of human waste and rotting garbage. Maybe I should invest in a blindfold.

Dumitra's voice pulls me back to the present. "I haven't encountered a sight and gesture mage in centuries," she says, a note of fascination in her tone. "Such mages are quite rare. It's no surprise that your activation mechanism is tied to negative emotions."

I can't help but scoff. "It's more likely that Gwenhwyfar's blood had a hand in whatever gifts I have now," I mutter, remembering the forced 'donation' with a shudder.

Virginia's voice is sharp with surprise. "That thing's blood? You drank it?"

"Not by choice," I snap, the memory making my stomach churn. "She forced it down my throat."

"Then your gifts aren't truly yours," Ioana says softly. "They were artificially given to you."

Dumitra sighs. "That's likely, but there's no reason to fret anymore. All that's left is to experiment."

I nod, then glance at the sun's position. "It should be almost noon," I say, a hint of urgency creeping into my voice. "We don't have much time. I have to be with Erik at Eamonn's meeting in the village by afternoon."

"Then we must test the 'anger' hypothesis quickly," Dumitra says, her tone businesslike. "We'll use that nearby tree as a target. Try some hand gestures and see how your powers function."

I take a deep breath, but as I do, a wave of anxiety washes over me. "I'm really worried about my family," I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I'm feeling some sort of dread at the thought of losing Aislin and Maeve and the kids... even Oisin now."

Dumitra's gaze sharpens. "What did you see during your hallucinations?" she asks, her voice low and intense.

I swallow hard, the vivid images flashing through my mind. "I saw my family and kids die," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sofia, Elena, Mircea - he was just a baby - and Victor. Then... then I died too, trapped by rubble."

Virginia snorts, but Ioana quickly intervenes. "That sounds horrible," she says, her voice filled with sympathy. "It's like when I lost my puppy."

I can't help but bristle at the comparison. "It feels far worse than losing a puppy," I snap, then immediately regret my harsh tone. "I'm probably going to have nightmares for a long time."

Ioana laughs, the sound light and carefree. "At least vampires don't need to sleep," she says, as if that's supposed to be comforting.

"If I ever had to sleep and dream like humans do, I'd go mad," Virginia adds, her voice dripping with disdain.

Dumitra sighs heavily, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes.

This isn't fair at all. They don't even need to sleep, the undead bastards. Here I am, stuck with the trauma of watching my loved ones die, and they're practically bragging about their freedom from nightmares. Fuck them.

I can't help but wonder how this little magical experiment would have played out if Erik had been here. The thought of my hulking Norse husband witnessing this clusterfuck of a training session is almost amusing.

"I have a question," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What would have happened if Erik was here to supervise this little... adventure?"

Dumitra's ruby eyes flash with amusement. "Why, he would have died surely," she replies, her tone casual as if discussing the weather.

Ioana pipes up, her melodic voice tinged with mischief. "Mother planned to have Erik supervise you today in the hopes that you would kill him. Then she would take you to Wallachia."

My eyebrows shoot up at this revelation. "Wallachia? Why the hell would you want to take me there?"

Dumitra's lips curl into a secretive smile. "I shan't tell, little one. The plan fell through, so you're still bound for Norway."

Great. Just fucking great. Not only am I stuck in this medieval shithole, but I'm also a pawn in some vampire's convoluted schemes. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Anyway," Dumitra continues, waving a dismissive hand. "Stand up and look at that tree, then think of something that makes you angry."

I struggle to my feet, my body still feeling like it's been put through a meat grinder. As I turn to face the tree, Ioana's voice drifts over to me.

"If you feel any pressure budding between your eyes, that means the gift is activating. It feels like a tingle of sorts."

I nod, my eyes fixed on the tree. Its bark seems to shimmer with an otherworldly light, and I can almost taste the earthy, woody flavor on my tongue. Fuck, this synesthesia bullshit is going to take some getting used to.

"What gesture or motion should I do with my hand or hands?" I ask, feeling like a complete idiot.

"Perhaps a horizontal cutting motion would be a good start," Dumitra suggests. "Like a chop."

I take a deep breath, trying to summon the anger that apparently fuels these newfound abilities. It's not hard to find. The memory of the alien attack that killed my wives and children rises unbidden, a tidal wave of grief and rage threatening to overwhelm me.

As I focus on the tree, I feel a strange pressure building between my eyes. It's like someone's pressing their thumb against my forehead, a dull ache that grows more insistent by the second.[...]