The grand cavern glowed faintly under the light of Alexia’s magic. The beating heart of Ferrickton was empty now, except for a pair of guards that would never have another heartbeat. Five tunnels stretched ahead of her, her gaze lingering on the tunnel where Sir Barnett was entombed. Maleon Stonebreaker was nowhere to be seen, but when she found him, she’d break him with the very stones of Ferrickton.

It was his fault that Timmeck was dead. His fault that she had become a monster. His fault that Allison was an orphan. His fault. Rage seared through her veins, summoning Seraxa. KILL HIM!

A scream ripped from her throat as she unleashed Seraxa’s fire. Flames ringed her and spiraled, leaving blackened scars in their wake. She called out through the inferno, “Show yourself, Stonebreaker! Let’s finish this, once and for all!”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the heat of her rage ebbing as she scanned the cavern for the man who broke her. She could never be Alexia the Dreamer again. Not after this. Not after Ferrickton, not after Allison, not after Timmeck. That girl was gone, replaced by a woman with a broken heart.

But Maleon didn’t appear.

The flames flickered and died, leaving only smoke curling in the air. Alexia’s anger wavered, and with it came the deep ache of grief. She pressed a hand to her eyes, willing the tears away, trying to stoke the fire again. But all she found was sorrow for the girl she had been.

I dreamt that peace would come if I just loved. I thought that the gray could become radiant if I only guided them with my heart. Her lips trembled as the bitter truth settled over her. Maleon showed me the innocence of my dreams. Life is not an epic tale with a sunny ending waiting at the end of a road of roses. Life is a battlefield at dusk where darkness and deceit are etched on every heart. It is a trail of thorns and tears with Death waiting for us at the end.

She thought of Leverith, murdered by her own brother. Love couldn’t even save the Divine of Love. Love dies, but death is everlasting. Justice? A father’s fallacy. Peace? A mother’s dream. Love? A fragile child. But even frail children can grow into heroes.

Alexia’s fingers found her locket. She clutched tightly, recalling the feeling of Zander’s strong arms around her, steadying her in ways nothing else could. She slowed her breath, stilled her shaking. Then she remembered the source of all her pain, of Maleon’s betrayal, and the moment it was sealed when she refused to kill Zander.

If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d force him into battle.

Alexia strode toward the first tunnel on her left. The ground vibrated beneath her feet, and the air stilled. Her eyes fixed on the tunnel’s ceiling, supported by iron beams wide enough for several carts to pass through. In her mind’s eyes, she saw this tunnel becoming nothing more than a cairn marking the death of her dreams. The vibrations intensified as her will poured into the spell.

“Petrapessum!”

The ceiling collapsed with a deafening roar, tons of rock and iron crashing down like a child’s toy blocks. The destruction echoed through the cavern, stirring sorrow in Alexia’s chest. This iron was Ferrickton’s lifeblood, as essential as a farmer’s crop. Alexia crushed the thought before it could slaughter her resolve. There could be no peace without King Gideon’s goodwill, and Maleon would not face her unless she forced him out of hiding.

She sealed the second tunnel as easily as the first. Still, Maleon didn’t show himself. The earth hummed with his power—Celegana’s energy thrummed in the stillness. Alexia felt his presence, a silent promise of the battle to come.

She moved to the third tunnel, the largest yet, but with each step her confidence wavered. The ground pulsed like a heartbeat, and her gut felt like a punching bag. Worry sprinted around in circles within her mind, screaming at her to be prepared without telling her how. She needed to regain control, before the anxiety crushed her.

Focus. Alexia inhaled deeply, centering herself just as Master Theos had taught her. She stepped back from the tunnel, calling upon the mantra of a lesson that could never be taken away from her.

Crush the worry before it crushes you. Crush the worry before it crushes you…

*************

“Worry is most unhelpful to a cognitive-affectomancer,” Master Theos said, his voice rich with the depth of age, weathered by his ninety years of knowledge. “Why is that?”

Alexia brightened with confidence. “Because it blocks us from attuning to the Divine Thirteen and prevents us from forming a clear mental image of our focus.”

Theos grinned, though with his scarred face it looked more like a snarl. “That’s not helpful at all!” he declared with exaggerated exasperation, throwing his hands in the air like a frustrated child. “If worry harms us, then why do we do it?”

Theos Stormkin often asked question he already knew the answers to. “To solve the riddle was to master it,” he explained to Alexia two years before during their very first lesson. Once you found your own answer, it became a part of you, etched into the soul. Conversely, an answer given was fleeting—it would flee when you needed it because it was never yours to begin with.

At thirteen, Alexia had gazed up at her master, uncertainty heavy on her brow. Why do we worry? She certainly mastered worrying, and she wasn’t certain what it did for her beyond make her feel eternally unsure about herself, about others, about the world she inhabited. She pondered for long moments before offering, “To remind ourselves?” Her voice pitched high, betraying her lack of confidence in the answer.

Theos smiled, his weathered face lighting up, though Alexia knew that didn’t necessarily mean she was right. He was pleased, yes—but that expression could either mean that she was close to the hidden truth of things or close to the perceived, but false, truth. They both evoked the same smitten smirk from her master. They both led to learning. Often, the latter provoked a greater understanding because it taught what wasn’t as much as what was.

“To remind ourselves?” he echoed, mimicking her upward lilt as if savoring the taste of the words. “Remind ourselves of what?”

Alexia sighed, searching her soul for the hidden truth of things. She sifted through endless experiences of worry, searching for a pattern, a deeper reason. But no clear answer emerged from these tangled thoughts weighted down by self-criticism. Finally, she admitted, “I don’t know, Master.”

Lowering her head, she felt the familiar pang of being disappointed in herself. But Theos chuckled warmly, and instead of unlocking the door for her, he provided a key. “What would your father say about worry?”

Her father? Alexia’s face beamed with sudden enlightenment. “He’d ask why such an unpleasant feeling could be considered pragmatic.” Her father was a staunch believer in Darle’s Theory of Pragmatic Inheritance, applying it to everything—society, learning, religion, but especially human behavior.

Theos nodded and leaned back in his chair, signaling that no further hints would be provided. Alexia grinned, the pieces falling into place. “When we worry, we’re reminding ourselves of our problems,” she said, her voice gaining momentum. “We feel it so we can confront the issues that need solving. Once we deal with our problems, the worry fades, like washing a stain from our favorite robe. Then we feel better and are then motivated to solve our problems the next time we worry about them. Worry is a feedback loop! Like reciprocal love!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Theos smiled, an expression of the pride that allowed her to keep struggling through his riddles. “I’d say it’s more akin to… releasing gas. The stomach feels so much better after that toxic release. Henceforth, we choose to fart rather than hold the toxic gas in.”

Alexia grinned. “It is not the stomach, but the colon that thanks you for your flatulence.”

Theos raised his lone eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Master.” Alexia bit her lip to contain her laughter.

Theos shrugged, then let loose a full, hearty laugh, one that echoed in his chambers. Theos often reminded Alexia that laughter was never meant to be mastered. It was meant to flow freely, like magic in its purest form. But soon enough, he brushed the laughter aside and returned to his lesson. “Now, why do I ask you about worry, Alexia?”

“Because,” she said easily, “as the second great wizard, I’ll face many problems that need solving. If I’m overburdened by worry, I’ll lose myself. I need to master my worries before I can master my magic.”

Theos nodded, though this time, the prideful smile was absent.

Alexia hesitated, struggling to keep that pang of disappointment out of her voice. “Did I miss something, Master? Is there a deeper truth I’m overlooking?”

Theos frowned. “No, quite the contrary. You will battle your worries time and time again. They’ll be your closest companion—no, more like a nagging mother, always behind you, insisting you must do this and that.”

“My mother isn’t like that.”

“She isn’t?” Theos tilted his head, feigning skepticism before breaking into a smirk. “Perhaps you are more dutiful than I was. Perhaps you are blessed with a mother who actually believes in you. Either way, you are blessed, child of love.”

Alexia let this tangent pass, refocusing. “Master, I can handle my worries. I just need to solve the problem, and they’ll disappear.” She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Just like farting.”

Theos managed to combine a grin and a scowl in a single twisted expression. To Alexia, it read clearly: You’re amusing, but you’ve missed the mark.

Silence stretched between them, the lesson simmering as Theos breathed slowly. Alexia watched, recognizing the control he had over his emotions.

Control. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. “Control!” she exclaimed, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. Solving these riddles always brought that satisfying sense of bringing order from chaos with nothing but your own mind.

Theos failed to suppress a grin of his own. Alexia continued, brimming with enthusiasm. “Some problems are beyond our control. No matter how much we worry, we can’t solve them.”

“Such as?”

Alexia hesitated only a turn before speaking her fears aloud. “I can’t control the fact that I’ll be sent to war one day. I’m terrified of dying. Of killing. Of becoming a weapon of war when all I’ve ever dreamed of is peace.” She swallowed hard, her voice shaking. “What if all my training leads to nothing but hurting Leveria?”

Theos’s eyes deepened with sorrow, with empathy, and maybe with his own suffering. “A profound example. So how is worry pragmatic in that case?”

“It’s not,” Alexia answered without hesitation. “Not all worries are helpful. Worry is bitter medicine when it drives us to solve our problems, but a poison when the problem is beyond our control.”

Theos nodded, tears welling in his eyes as he studied his favorite pupil. “Precisely, Alexia. And when you face a worry beyond your control, what is the best course of action?”

The answer flowed from her with ease. “You crush the worry… before it crushes you.”

*************

Crush the worry before it crushes you.

Eighteen-year-old Alexia exhaled slowly in the Ferrickton Mines. The lesson, ingrained over her years of training, came to her easily now. She repeated her mantra three times, letting the words guide her thoughts and steady her heart. Her mind turned to Dalis’s peaceful waters, a gentle current that washed away worry. Inhale… exhale. She shifted her focus to Zafrir’s soothing breeze, feeling a faint sense of control return as the air stirred around her.

Maleon’s presence loomed at the edge of her awareness, his channeling of Celegana diminished but ever-present. She exhaled again, accepting her situation. I cannot control when Maleon will appear. I can only control how I prepare for him. I will force him to appear under my terms. And I will defeat him.

Alexia released Zafrir’s wind and anchored herself in Celegana’s steady earth. As she leveled the third and largest of the five tunnels, Maleon remained hidden. She couldn’t control that, but she was prepared and ready.

His presence grew sharper as she approached the fourth tunnel. She scanned her surroundings, assessing the stone walls and seeking out shadowed corners. There was nowhere he could hide, except inside the tunnel. Without hesitation, Alexia collapsed the earth above, sealing the passage beneath layers of rock. Still, Maleon didn’t show himself. She quelled her apprehension. There’s nothing I can do about that.

A feeling of control rose in her gut, stemming from the predictability of the situation. Maleon awaited her at the last tunnel. He might control the timing of his entrance, but she would be ready.

Alexia’s pace slowed as she neared the fifth tunnel. Five paces away, she scanned the entrance. No crevices, no hidden alcoves. Four steps—nothing but the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her skull. Three steps—the earth vibrated with the force of his channeling, growing stronger as she neared. Two steps—she steadied herself with Celegana’s divine energy, eyes flicking to the tunnel overhang. One step—this is it. Inhale, hold, exhale.

Alexia squared her stance, raised her staff, and peered into the final tunnel. Nothing. He wasn’t there.

Her eyes flicked over the cavern, scanning every possible hiding place and finding none. He had to be inside the final tunnel. All she had to do was collapse the entrance and leave him behind. She aimed her staff at the ceiling but couldn't form the final focus. Her hand trembled as she lowered the staff.

For all his betrayal, for all the pain she suffered, for all the hate and rage she felt this night, she couldn’t finish strong. Not like this.

She needed to see Maleon one last time. To look into the eyes of the man who fractured her soul. She needed to understand why he turned against her, to see that all the light was gone from him before the end. “I know you’re in there, Stonebreaker!”

Her voice echoed through the cavern. Silence answered.

Alexia sighed, frustration mingling with despondency. Even after all he had done, she couldn’t bring herself to seal him away, not without seeing him face-to-face. She had to look into the eyes that once gave her courage, into the face of the man who had once saved her life. She couldn’t collapse this tunnel unless she knew it only led to darkness.

Am I still innocent? she wondered. Maybe it was naivete, but she preferred hope to cynicism. Alexia would offer a chance at understanding, but she would balance forgiveness with skepticism. This was the compromise Maleon’s lessons taught her. She’d strive to see the best in others, and she wouldn’t be blind to the worst.

She resolved to be ready for either outcome—reconciliation or destruction.

A calm confidence settled over her. Alexia felt peace fill her heart, allowing her to channel the stubbornness and refusal to surrender that attuned her to Celegana, Divine of Earth and Harvest. Alexia was ready to reap the rewards or consequences of the seeds she’d planted with Maleon. It was time to harvest what grew between them after all the love and hate that had nurtured and withered their relationship.

“Maleon,” she called, firm and gentle, “it doesn’t have to end this way. I remember how you saved me, how you helped me believe in myself. Come out. Speak to me. I believe we can still find an understanding, if you give it a chance.”

She held tightly to Celegana’s steadiness, but also to Norali’s hope, illuminating Aurora with a soft light that shimmered in the darkness. She stepped cautiously into the tunnel, moving with deliberate steps. If Maleon was there, it was not at the mouth, but hidden deeper within the dark, winding stone chipped away by the Gemstone War’s constant need for weapons.

Her voice softened with love, not fear. “One more chance, Maleon. Please take it.”

Maleon took his chance. Alas, it was not the one Alexia offered.

He unleashed his hold on Celegana, and the earth itself roared in response. Alexia held fast to her connection with the Divine of Earth, clinging to Celegana’s strength as though she were hanging from the edge of a cliff, her grip the only thing preventing her fall into the abyss below.

Tons of rock tore free from the ceiling above Alexia, crashing down with a deafening roar.