“Aahnah did not tell me what she was studying or what she found. But I realized something at the temple yesterday.” Ferma paused. A darkness crossed her eyes, and Elena took her hand.
“Ferma, what is it? What are you keeping from me?”
When Ferma met her gaze, Elena saw that her eyes were wet, full of pain.
“Oh, my darling.”
“What are you—”
“Your father asked me not to do something,” Ferma said. “And I pretended to agree. But I won’t deny your birthright.”
Elena touched Ferma’s hand on her cheek. “Ferma,” she said slowly, “are you telling me you know how to hold fire?”
For a moment, Ferma’s smile faltered, and Elena caught a glimpse of something beneath, something she did not understand, before Ferma nodded, squeezed her hand tight.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s what I mean. I want you to have everything. Even fire, if you wish it.”
“How?” Elena whispered.
“I have an idea.” Ferma stood, her reflections glittering in the mirrors. “There are stories of Yumi wielding fire. They were devout warriors of the Goddess, and She gifted them the power of Agni, and to one warrior, Her staff of fire.”
Ferma pressed a panel, and there was a hum as the training mats split open to reveal a deep pit with a tiny flame.
“Maybe the dance in the scroll isn’t one dedicated to the Phoenix,” Ferma said. “Maybe it’s of the Goddess. Of the Yumi.”
“But—I don’t know much about the Goddess,” Elena said. “I hardly believe in the Phoenix.”
“It takes more than belief to hold fire,” Ferma said. “Come. Assume your first pose.”
Elena suddenly felt self-conscious and looked down at her burned fingertips. She had only ever practiced the fire dance alone.
“I don’t know—”
With a flick of her hair, Ferma knocked her to the ground. “Your center is off-balance.”
Elena rubbed her back, groaning. The Yumi’s hair prickled, the ends sharpening as she paced. She looked like a cougar slowly stalking its prey.
Elena rose to her feet with a wary look.
“Feet wide,” Ferma said and grabbed her by the waist. She tapped Elena’s legs, motioning for her to widen her stance. “You need to be strong, like a tree. Rooted to the ground. Immovable like a rock.” Ferma sank into her heels, feet wide, shoulders back. “See?”
Elena mirrored the movement, her twelve reflections following suit.
Ferma touched her back. “Straighter.”
Elena nodded, though she could already feel her legs beginning to shake.
“Now, flow into the next form.”
She balanced on her right foot, raising her arms behind her like the wings of a desert sparrow. The flame slowly tugged left. She moved her hands to the right, and it followed. Elena unwound her legs and transitioned into the next form of the dance—palms outstretched, mind clear.
The Lotus.
Think of the brightest light you’ve ever seen, the scroll said of this form.
Previously, she had thought of the Eternal Fire, and the flame had exploded. She had been wrong then. The fire was not a bright light. It was a source of rage. Destruction.
Elena blinked fiercely as sweat dripped into her eye. If the Eternal Fire was not the answer, she had to think of something else. Something restorative. Something that brought her peace. She thought of her mother, but the memory of her was already fading. Her father was more of a dark cloud than a source of light. And she knew nothing about the Goddess.
