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"Magic can seem fickle when you're beginning to learn," Isael said, his voice soft and caressing. "Do not be troubled if it refuses your call."
It was one of those moments when the high lord seemed to have a window into her mind. She instantly felt more at ease, calmer in her contemplation of the candle wick.
"Is that what I do? Call it?"
"In a sense. There's more to it than that, but to do something basic you only need to set your intention and be firm in your desire. It helps if you visualize what you want to happen."
It was just as she'd deduced. Magic, or at least the sort she had, was invoked bydesire. She channeled that desire into the candle wick, focusing not on whether she could please Isael, but instead desiring to prove to herself that she could do it.
And she did.
Guided by Isael's suggestion that she picture the fire in her mind, when the candle sprung to life it was with a small flame and not the torrent of fire she'd manifested earlier. She couldn't help but beam as she stared down at the dancing flame, though she was quick to rein in her delight.
Remembering Maewyn's reaction, she expected Isael to be similarly displeased, but when she looked up at him he was smiling and his eyes were bright.
"Fire is the easiest element to create," he told her, and she watched as the flame came apart from the wick.
It was nothing like when Maewyn lifted the flame from the candle. Rather than growing smaller and blinking out, the flame grew larger and began to change shape. It lengthened into a rope, then expanded in the middle, until it sprouted muscled legs and webbed wings, taking the form of an intricate dragon. It flew to Isael's hand, hovering just above it. It was close enough that it should have burned him, or at least scorched his sleeve, yet all it did was cast an orange glow over him.
"It's effortless to begin," he went on. Above his hand, the dragon perched and began to preen itself. "To create fire, you need only create an agitation of dust in the air. Water is more challenging, at first."
Cera watched, her mouth popping open as the air in front of her changed. She had no frame of reference to describe what she was seeing, as she'd never seen air take physical form. It was like watching reality twist and contract before her eyes. Then, it seemed to collapse in on itself. The whole process took little more than a second, and when the air returned to normal, it left behind a small ball of water, no larger than a button.
"It's not as simple as agitating the air, you must manipulate it," he said, as the ball grew and took the shape of a second dragon. This one was long and serpentine, with whiskers rather than wings. "Water is always in the air, you need only squelch a drop from it, assuming there is none at hand to manipulate."
The water dragon flew to Cera, curling around her index finger. She lifted it up, marveling in the intricacies of its form. Up close, she could see its scales, claws, and the individual hairs that made up its mane.
After that, he proceeded with a demonstration of earth, which was far more varied in its applications. He could manipulate soil and rocks with ease, but metals were more difficult and required an application of fire to make them more malleable. Even then, he needed to keep heat continuously applied, lest the bronze dragon grow cold and harden.
"I would prefer you didn't try to manipulate metals," Isael said. "And never attempt to manipulate iron. You can't, and trying to do so may injure you."
"Because the fae are vulnerable to iron?"
He nodded. "We are only part fae, but we use their magic, and when we do, we must obey their laws. Iron is toxic to the fae. It won't affect us as it does them, but its effects are unpleasant."
The water dragon unfurled itself from her finger, dropping down onto the table to join the others. Cera regarded each one in turn, amazed not only by how lifelike they looked, but also by how each seemed to have its own quirks and mannerisms as it moved about the table. Surely, Isael couldn't be controlling each one, instructing it to blink, bellow, or snap its teeth?
Offhandedly, she asked, "What about the wind? Is it the same thing as controlling the air?"
"You don't call the wind."
He spoke the words softly enough, but there was a strange edge to them that had her glancing up to meet his intense stare. On the table, the water and fire dragons disintegrated, while the earth dragon took flight out the window. Without the fire to warm it, the copper dragon hardened into a stiff figurine.
"Why not?" She asked, surprising herself with her boldness.
Isael leaned back in his chair and brushed a lock of errant silver tendrils behind his ear. "Because it's dangerous. There's a reason so few beings can call the wind. Learning to control it is difficult, and many die in the process. When I learned, I was already several centuries old and adept at magic, and it still nearly tore me apart."
There was something off about what he'd said, and Cera suspected she knew what it was. Still, she wasn't keen on pressing her luck with him. Maewyn might have believed he was moonstruck, but the man across from her seemed awfully composed, his gaze more calculating than come-hither.
But her curiosity wouldn't be wholly stamped out. She tried to think of an innocuous question, one to test her burgeoning awareness.
She overshot, by far.
"Did you really duel the dragon god?"
Not the least bit jarred by the non sequitur, Isael answered without hesitation.
"I did."
