Selene's POV
I folded my legs into lotus pose on the training ground, sitting among a half-circle of fellow mage students. Professor Zane's voice lingered in my ears, calm yet commanding:
"Breathe deeply. Picture your mana as a soft veil around your mind."
The atmosphere was hushed, only the shuffle of robes and the occasional cough disturbing the silence.
I closed my eyes, trying to obey. A slow breath filled my chest, and I coaxed my mana upward, shaping it as a misty film, delicate and silver, wrapping around my thoughts.
But it faltered. My awareness betrayed me—the brush of someone's robe, the loudness of my own breathing, the gnawing worry that Professor might notice my failure. Was he disappointed?
For an instant, calm brushed against me. The veil seemed to take shape, light as gossamer, and then… doubts intruded. The pressure to keep up with the others, the fear of lagging behind, the burning hope that I wasn't a burden. The mist thinned, my concentration scattered.
