The weight of the headmistress's concern settled in the quiet hallway. Elara and the professor exchanged another heavy look before departing, leaving Henry alone with his divine warden and the uncomfortable truth of his situation.
"Now, if you'll excuse us," Helia's voice cut through the silence, crisp and authoritative, "we have training to do."
She turned, not waiting for a response, and Henry followed her obediently. They walked to the secluded training room, the same sterile, white chamber where he had first confronted the warring natures within himself. The air was still and silent.
Henry took his place in the center of the room and began. He closed his eyes, searching for the light, for the chaotic, frightened spark of his Solari heritage. He tried to coax it out, to give it form as Helia had instructed. A flicker. Nothing. Another try. A pinprick of light appeared in his palm and immediately vanished. He gritted his teeth, frustration building into a bitter, familiar wave. How was he supposed to master this if he couldn't even hold onto it? It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.
Failure after failure mounted, leaving him breathless and angry at his own powerlessness. Then, an idea sparked in the darkness of his frustration. An idea so simple, he felt foolish for not thinking of it sooner. He had the literal reincarnation of a sun goddess standing ten feet away.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Uh, Ms. Helia, can you-"
"Just call me Helia, Henry," she cut him off, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "We are not strangers."
The small kindness gave him a bit of courage. "So... Helia. Could you... touch my shoulder and maybe liberate some of your energy? Not to power me, but just... to guide me. To show my light what it's supposed to do."
Helia looked surprised. It was a logical request, a sign that he was thinking strategically about his own nature instead of just fighting it. A flicker of approval crossed her features. She nodded and moved to stand behind him, placing a light, warm hand on his shoulder. A gentle, controlled wave of pure solar energy flowed from her, not into him, but around him, a resonant hum that vibrated in the air.
Henry closed his eyes again and reached inward. This time, when he touched upon his own chaotic light, it didn't feel alone. It felt the steady, ancient power of Helia nearby, a lighthouse in its storm. It had a pattern to follow. He focused, shaping his will, and a stable, softly glowing ball of white light formed in his hands. It didn't flicker. It didn't explode. It just... was.
A wide, genuine smile broke across Henry's face. He looked up at Helia, his eyes shining with a triumph he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime. "It worked."
Helia let a soft, rare smile touch her own lips. It was a borrowed victory, but it was progress nonetheless. A step. As she watched him hold the light, however, a thought nagged at her. His power shouldn't be this difficult to access. It was his birthright. Something was actively blocking him, suppressing the connection. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind inward.
"Are you trying to block his Solari powers?" she projected, her mental voice sharp and accusatory as it found her sister.
Tsukuyomi's amused laughter echoed back. "Oh, am I? If I did that, you would know. And besides, you know I like to see him all sad and frustrated. It's so much more entertaining when he is—"
"Enough," Helia cut her off.
"Fine, fine," Tsukuyomi said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Maybe it's that seal old man Joseph made. He is getting on in years, so he might have screwed things up and locked Henry's tiny powers away with him. Boo hoo."
Helia sighed internally, the frustration immense. "You know, sometimes you just look like a child." She severed the connection, her thoughts racing.
Tsukuyomi had a point, however sarcastic. The seal was a factor. But Helia knew her sister's capacity for deceit. She looked down at Henry, still marveling at the small light in his hands. There was a way to strengthen her own connection to him, to become a more constant guide for his light. She could let her physical body go, resonate her essence into an item he carried, just as Tsukuyomi was doing with the katana.
But the thought was a dangerous one. Doing so would mean sacrificing a degree of her physical power, making her control over the Night-Henry, should he break loose, far more difficult. Or even impossible. It was a gamble she wasn't sure she could afford to take.