It was Iris’s first-time stepping foot on the plains outside her window. Unfortunately, any chance for her to take it in had been dashed by the woman standing before her, still in her clothing from the night before. The one thing about her that had changed was that the rifle had returned to its place, slung across her shoulder.

“Iris, can you form a shape whenever you want to?” she said, no room for the dreariness that had all but enslaved Elliot. Half asleep on a rocking chair just outside the house’s generous doorways, the man that was so cheery the night before was left rotting in the sunlight.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then I want you to close your eyes and picture what I’m going to say.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me. There’s nothing to hurt you.”

Iris, only now realising her distaste for closing her eyes, finally knew not to take sight for granted. Her vision went black, and the recesses of her mind invaded her conscience, taking over her senses and heightening them.

“Picture a box.”

A shape. Six sides, all squares.

“Picture a ball.”

The picture was harder. The smooth surfaces reached the forefront of Iris’s mind blurred, misshapen.

“Picture water.”

The clear blue that flowed down the riverbanks. Or perhaps the endless expanse she had seen from the train, or the waves slowly lapping against the canals.

“A flow of water. A single stream. Can you imagine it, Iris? Can you imagine creating it?”

She felt her brow furrow as her hair once again dissipate. She took the image of the box and imagined it first. The idea turned into one of a container with liquid sloshing inside. She pictured the bottom falling out.

Splash.

“Incredible,” Evalyn muttered. Iris finally opened her eyes and discovered a small pool of purple at her feet.

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They both bent down and poked it. It wasn’t cool like Iris expected of water. Instead, it was warm, unnervingly, as if someone had gargled it and spat it on the floor. As Iris’s mind relaxed, so did the liquid contract and become viscous.

“It’s all right, Iris; you can stop now,” Evalyn said, dismissing the liquid back into Iris’s hair. Until now, she had only ever used the last five or so centimetres. If a day would come when she used all of it, she had no clue.

“All right, ladies, we’ve got places to be. My students are assholes about my tardiness, and Marie won’t wait all day…okay, maybe she might.”

With that, Elliot dismissed himself. Hauling himself out of the chair seemed as if it was a goliath task in itself. Evalyn chuckled meekly at the sight of the grown man struggling to do basic tasks.

“You should see him get out of bed. He won’t let go sometimes,” she muttered.

“Should I?”

“…maybe not. Forget I said that.”

Evalyn stood up and began to head back.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she muttered and turned back to Iris, unshouldering the rifle on her back. “Iris, you know what this does, right?” Iris shook her head, and Evalyn knelt.

“This is a gun. A gun is anything with a trigger, handle, and barrel. Until I say you’re ready, never ever try to fight someone with one of these, okay? Once you learn how to use your magic, you might be able to counter these, but without it, you’re helpless.”

“How?” Iris asked, curious as to the magic in it. She couldn’t sense any for the moment. Evalyn carefully racked the bolt back without ejecting the round.

“In there is a bullet. It’s a small piece of metal; when I want it to, it travels faster than you could ever imagine. You can’t dodge it, and when it hits you, it goes right through you,” she said as she poked Iris’s chest, right where her heart was.

Evalyn stood up and held the rifle by its handle. “Elly, throw me something that isn’t expensive.”

“What? Why?”

“Target practice.”

Elliot groaned and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he ran out and tossed something into the air. Iris could only recognise that it was a can for a split second before a loud bang pierced her ears. She yelped and fell back, continuing to hear the shot resonate in her ears and echo into the distance.

The empty can lay a few metres away, torn in half, maimed beyond recognition.

“I’ve killed many things one ordinary woman can’t kill by herself, but I’ve never put my gun down. No matter what I’ve tried, I can never perceive the speed of a bullet, therefore, I’ll never replicate or outdo one with my abilities.” She turned to Iris, racking the bolt and letting the cartridge fly out and fall to the ground.

“This is why I will always use these to kill someone personally. It’s merciful that way. A shot to the heart will mean they can still have an open casket. Does that make sense?”

Iris nodded, only half understanding what Evalyn was trying to convey. However, the use of a firearm in Evalyn’s hands was explicit. To kill outright. No formalities, no powers, just pure execution. And for that same reason, Iris would be wary of them.

“One day, you’ll shrug them off.”

“When?”

“Your armour. Once you forge your armour.”