Page 78

Focus.

I push harder, trying to isolate a single sound from the symphony of vibrations. Each pulse carries a different frequency, a different energy. I just have to learn how to reach for one . . . and control it.

I struggle to remember how this ever came naturally to me. It is all a mind game, feeling the vibrations, visualizing the outcome, and adjusting the frequency to match my intent. Simple in theory. In practice? A nightmare.

I zero in on a small bush nearby, willing it to grow, to bloom. I picture it full and lush, its branches heavy with deep red roses. Every ounce of my concentration pours into that single image, my mind reaching for the unseen threads of energy that make up the world around me.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm,” Ash snickers.

His voice breaks my focus at the worst possible moment. A spark of uncontrolled energy lashes out, and before I can stop it, the entire bush bursts into flames.

Ash yelps, stumbling back. “Jeez, I was kidding!” He shoots me a wary glance before mumbling under his breath, “Kind of.” Then, louder, “No need for such violence.”

With a flick of his wrist, he smothers the fire effortlessly, the flames vanishing as if they never existed.

I let out a frustrated sigh. The rest of the day follows the same disastrous pattern. I attempt to control a vibration, only for it to spiral out of control in some spectacularly wrong way. Ash, to his credit, cleans up every mess with minimal complaint, though his smirks and occasional chuckles make it clear he is enjoying my struggle far too much.

I know I’ll be rusty, but I don’t expect to be this bad. Each failure eats away at my confidence, and by the time the sun dips below the mountains, I am mentally drained.

Ash stretches, rolling out his shoulders as he watches me with an easy grin. “Wanna stay the night here and pick up where we left off tomorrow?” he muses.

I shoot him a sharp glare, making it clear that stepping foot inside that cabin again isn’t an option. “I will burn it down before I willingly sleep in there again,” I bite out, my tone harsher than I intend.

Ash chuckles but doesn’t argue. He simply lifts a hand and opens the passage back to the stronghold, the swirling portal casting a faint glow against the twilight.

Spending the day in the mountains, focused on my magic, bantering with Ash, has been a welcome distraction compared to the thought of stepping back into the stronghold, knowing I am heading to Oberon’s chambers only to find them empty . . .

Something about it feels wrong. Like I am returning to something that no longer fits. The room feels strange without him. Not just the space itself, but his space, his presence woven into every inch of it. Without Oberon here, the walls seem colder, the air heavier, as if the very essence of this place has shifted. Leaving me an outsider in a place I once grew used to. Like, I don’t quite belong.

I consider finding another room to stay in until he returns, somewhere that doesn’t feel so empty without him. But his scent still lingers, cedarwood and rain, clinging to the sheets, the pillows, the clothes he left behind. It wraps around me like an invisible tether, grounding me in a way I’m not ready to let go of. So, I stay.

As the days bleed together, my training with Ash becomes more productive. The magic that once felt so foreign slowly grows more familiar, easier to wield, a little more each day.

Even though my control over my power improves, sleep has become increasingly difficult. The room grows colder. The loneliness settles deeper into my bones. His scent is both a comfort and a cruel reminder of what I am missing, a presence I didn’t realize I needed until it was gone.

I try to ignore the ache, to push past it, but the truth is impossible to avoid. I miss him. And worse, I don’t know what to do with that feeling.

Does the distance weigh on him the way it does on me?

Morning comes too soon, dragging me from the restless sleep I barely managed to scrape together. I dress quickly, making my way to the dining hall as I do every morning, expecting to meet Ash for breakfast.

As I walk through the halls, I notice sidelong glances and hushed whispers that follow in my wake.

Something feels off . . .

The Fae I pass avoid my gaze, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and unease.

I don’t know what is going on, but I know it can’t be good. A pit forms in my stomach as I hurry my steps, hoping Ash will have some answers.

I find him waiting outside the dining hall, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. He catches sight of me and tosses me an apple. “We’re skipping breakfast,” he says flatly, jerking his chin for me to follow.

I catch the apple instinctively, tucking it away for later. “What’s going on?”

Ash gives me a small, forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. In that moment, I know whatever he is about to tell me, I’m not going to like.

“Come on,” he says, already turning to walk away. “I’ll explain after we leave.”

I narrow my eyes. “That doesn’t sound good.” I try to keep my tone light, the unease already curling around my ribs, tightening with every step he takes away from the stronghold.