At first it feels like the magic before me is ignoring me. It doesn’t react in the slightest as I reach out to it. But no, it’s not ignoring me. It’s just that my touch means nothing to it. Why should it care about my touch? Even if I were doing it damage, it wouldn’t matter: a single area being affected is nothing to the body of Earth.

Instead of trying to get a reaction, I instead try to make myself more like the earth. Bringing mana from my core, I bring it beyond my physical fingertips so that it’s almost touching the magic in the earth, but is still held within my Energy channel. And there I pause.

My mana doesn’t like that. I hadn’t realised, but it’s eager to move, to act. Much like fire is. Maybe this is the effect of my Fire affinity. Either way, it tugs at my control, wanting to either rush out or rush in, but move in whichever direction.

I control it, forcing it to stay still. It resists me, but I am implacable. Like the earth around me, I am patient. I do not move. Nor do I allow it to move. And slowly, the bead of mana calms down, almost like it realises I will not yield to it.

Bit by bit, it struggles less against my hold until, finally, it is calm. I feed into it the appreciation for Earth that I have come to, and urge it to connect with the earth magic beside me.

Slowly, I sense that something is happening. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but the changes become more and more evident. Like something petrifying and turning to stone, the bead of mana does more than stop moving; it actually changes its nature.

From flickering and energetic, it has become placid, almost heavy in my Energy channel. Getting it to move now takes as much of a mental effort as stopping it from moving did before.

Like I’m pushing a boulder down a hill, I have to strain against it, but once it’s moving, the little bead of mana picks up a momentum which would be just as difficult to stop. It topples out of my channel and into the earth against which my finger is pressing. It touches the magic within the earth itself. I watch eagerly to see what happens.

Immediately, there are differences. Where before my mana was like something completely separate which could coexist alongside the earth magic, but not combine with it, this time the bead of mana is absorbed. Within a moment, I sense that there’s no trace of my mana within the seam of earth magic lying beneath my hand.

A smile spreads across my face. First step done.

That there is no sense of a notification doesn’t disappoint me – if my experience with fire magic was anything to judge by, I’m only halfway there. The first step to gaining Fire-Shaping was to transform my mana into fire magic; the second was to actually shape fire with it. So that would indicate that my next step is to learn how to shape the earth magic, using my own.

I also need to try to avoid forming a bond with the earth – I’m sure there’s an equivalent earth Skill to Fire-Taming and that’s not what I want to aim for.

Still, I’ve just made more progress in the last…whatever period of time, than in the previous two and a half days, so I’m pleased with that. I don’t spend a lot of time congratulating myself, though – I’m still very aware of the time pressure.

Focussing back on the task, I think about how I managed to shape fire finally. My mind brings me back to my recent experience of controlling the inferno. Creating a spark was one thing; controlling and shaping what that spark turned into was a different story.

While fire and earth are definitely different, I’ve just done the equivalent of creating a spark – transforming my little bead of mana into earth magic. Or at least something close enough that the magic within the earth accepted it as its own.

The latter part of that may be the most important, I think to myself. ‘As its own’. Maybe I can only shape magic which feels like it’s mine – or rather, in the case of fire, feels that I am its.

I think I’m going to need more mana.

Taking a larger clump of mana from my Core this time, I feed it down the same Energy channel again. Being larger, it’s harder to control, but my boosted Willpower is up to the task. Once more, I repeat the process of sending in my concepts of and appreciation for the earth. Like before, the large bead, practically a ball, of mana stills and calms, its nature transforming little by little.

Making this ball move after it has been transformed is even more difficult than with the little bead, but I force myself to be patient. The earth is patient – a decade is no different from a century to it; five minutes or half an hour is even less of a concern. I might be naturally more like the impatient fire, but I force myself to learn from the placid earth.

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This time, I keep it moving slowly, not letting it build up too much momentum as it moves through my Energy channel. At the same time, I focus on it transforming from a ball to a long oblong shape so that it doesn’t move all at once.

Almost surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to reject that, and after a few moments, I think I know why. Stone isn’t easy to shape, but stone isn’t the only form of earth. Clay is mouldable with even the weak fingers of a human. So is mud. And cement, before it dries. Even stone can be shaped, too, when it is so hot that it becomes lava.

That thought almost breaks my concentration – the combination of fire and earth has surely got to be lava. Does that mean I could wield lava one day?

I redirect my thoughts forcibly as my excitement threatens to upset my careful control. Step by step. Like the earth itself. I am not fire right now, flickering between one thing and the next. I am earth. Steady, reliable, solid.

At least, that’s what I’m trying to be. Perhaps I could do with a bit more earth in me, I realise.

The end of the oblong tips out of my energy channel and drips into the earth magic below me like clumps of wet mud or cement. I focus on trying to get the earth to move, to make a hollow beneath me.

Nothing happens.

I feel a hint of frustration, but push it away. Earth doesn’t get frustrated, it just keeps going, grinding away little by little until its objective is achieved.

Perhaps I’m doing something wrong here. I halt the movement of the oblong of mana. With as little momentum as I have permitted it, I only lose a couple more clumps of mana from it before it stops. I still have about half of the oblong left and it settles willingly in my channel, seemingly happy not to move.

I think back to Kalanthia and everything she’s said about and done with her earth-shaping. One memory comes to mind clearly. The one where she tried to control the earth while she was airborne. And failed.

I’ve seen her control the earth from a distance – when Kalanthia created the second cave, she was a good way away from the stone wall she was affecting. But maybe that’s not conclusive evidence against my theory: that there has to be a constant connection to the earth to allow its shaping. After all, I know that her domain is significantly larger than mine, if what I have can be considered a domain at all. Perhaps she’s able to maintain a constant connection through a domain, where I can only do it when I’m physically in contact with the earth.

It would make sense. I didn’t need it with fire, but then it is the nature for fire to spread without necessarily touching something. I saw it recently with the inferno – a tree several feet away from the blaze would spontaneously erupt because the conditions were right.

Earth isn’t the same. Earth is always connected to itself. A landslide is only significant because a small chunk of earth pushes the rest of a much larger chunk down a hillside. A volcano only erupts because lava is pressing against the cooler earth around it. An earthquake is caused by chunks of earth being forced to slide against each other. There’s always a connection.

So, maybe letting the magic drop out of my Energy channels in little clumps isn’t going to help. Maybe I need to find a way to keep it intact.

Hmm. Perhaps I need to give it an image? I wonder. So far images have helped. And, actually, maybe it would be logical for earth to need an image. Fire doesn’t really, though I do visualise the effect I want – like a cloak over my shoulders or wings of fire stretching into the sky. But then, fire is ever changing. Who ever heard of a sculpture of fire? Not possible. Not a static one, anyway. Fire always flickers, moves, changes. That’s why it’s so fascinating.

But earth…earth is the medium that artists have used through the ages to create their artwork. Whether it was coloured mud painted on walls, clay formed into shapes both practical and beautiful – sometimes both at the same time – or stone chipped away into a statue, it forms shapes which endure. Though I’m not an artist, I imagine that they would have to have a clear image of what they wanted their final forms to be before they even started.

Perhaps that’s what I’m missing?

This time, as I move the patient earth magic through my channel, I focus on it being like clay. A sausage of clay which is going to form part of my artwork. I push away feelings of doubt, my self-questioning probably actively harmful here. The sausage of ‘clay’ tips out of my channels…and stays intact.

It lowers, still staying together, and makes contact with the earth magic. There, I pause.

The earth magic seems…uncertain. I can feel it for the first time. Fire had been open with its sensations, practically throwing them out as it does heat and light. Earth has been the opposite. Very closed, not unwilling so much as…quiet. Like with the cold, I had to touch it before it would seep into me. Here, I’ve had to touch the earth magic with earth magic to feel it at all.

And now, it seems confused. I think I know why: in this, it is like fire. Fire, too, was confused about the concept of something being part of it, yet separate. I would guess from the evidence that earth is the same.

I focus on my appreciation for earth, trying to become as still and patient in spirit as it is in nature. That’s harder than I thought it would be, as is waiting for it to respond – it takes a long time.

But I do my best to endure. To wait without complaint.

Finally, it pays off. I sense the earth relax and accept me with calm placidity. I don’t think it recognises me as part of it, not the way fire did – with fire it was the other way around, really – but at the same time, I don’t find my own mind is captured like before.

Now is the time of truth. Continuing to feed the sausage of my own earth-natured mana into the far greater body of earth magic below my hand, I focus on the stone becoming soft and mouldable like clay.

I realise I’m holding my breath and force myself to breathe calmly again, despite my building anxiety. Please let this work!