{Elira}
~**^**~
"Elira," Zenon's voice cut through the chaos, firm but steady. "Breathe."
I obeyed him without thinking.
Then the fire flickered, dimmed, and dissolved into faint steam.
My knees buckled, but Zenon caught me by the wrist, pulling me upright. His grip was steady—strong enough to hold me.
When I finally looked up, he was watching me intently, a hint of concern hidden beneath his calm expression.
"That," he said quietly, "is what happens when you let your emotions lead. On Founder's Day, if you lose control like that, you will burn yourself before anyone else touches you."
I swallowed hard, still shaking. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know," he said, letting go of my wrist. "That's why you are learning now."
He stepped back, giving me space. "You did better than I expected for your first controlled surge. But you're still thinking like a fighter. You need to start thinking like a weapon."
