The violet lightning coiled around my fingers, a beautiful and terrifying serpent of pure energy. I could feel its power thrumming through my bones, a stark contrast to the pathetic static I'd known my whole life. I finally let the energy dissipate, the light vanishing with a soft hiss, plunging the room back into darkness. I was left panting, a wide, incredulous grin on my face.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Voltaris's voice cut through my elation, as dry as desert sand. "Making pretty lights is for festival mages. It won't help you when someone is trying to cave your skull in. Power is useless without control and application."
My grin vanished. "Application? What do you mean?"
"I mean you need to shape it. Give it form. Intent. The energy I leak to you is raw chaos. You must be the forge that gives it a purpose. We will start with the most basic offensive form imaginable. I call it [Lightning Lash]."
A schematic, a blueprint of pure energy, bloomed in my mind's eye. It showed the flow of power from my core, down my arm, and extending outward, forming a whip-like tendril of electricity.
"Focus," the god commanded. "Don't just release the power. Command it to extend. To hold its shape. Try it."
I took a deep breath and summoned the energy again. This time, instead of letting it pool in my palm, I tried to push it outward, to force it into the shape of a whip as the schematic showed.
FZZT!
A wild arc of lightning shot from my hand and slammed into the wall, leaving a blackened, fist-sized scorch mark on the wood. I yelped and stumbled back.
"Pathetic," Voltaris stated flatly. "You have all the finesse of a drunken ogre. You're trying to brute-force it. Feel the energy. Guide it. Don't just shove it. Again."
Gritting my teeth, I tried once more. This time, a sputtering, limp tendril of electricity drooped from my hand, flopping about like a wet noodle before fizzling out.
"Are you even trying?" the god's voice was laced with scorn. "My power is being wielded by a child who can't even crack a whip."
His insults stung, but they also stoked the fire of my anger. I thought of the smirking faces of the bullies. I thought of Iris turning her back on me. The heat in my chest intensified. I channeled it, not with brute force, but with sharp, focused intent. I will not be weak. I will make them pay.
I extended my hand one more time. The violet energy exploded outwards, but this time it held. A crackling, three-foot-long whip of pure lightning materialized in the air, humming with deadly power. It was unstable, flickering in and out of existence, but it was there. It was real.
With a yell, I swung my arm, lashing out at the wooden training dummy in the corner of my room.
CRACK!
The sound was like a thunderclap in the small space. The Lightning Lash struck the dummy's chest, and the wooden torso instantly exploded into a shower of smoking splinters.
I stared, wide-eyed, at the destruction. My arm ached and the room smelled of ozone and burnt wood, but I was grinning again. This was a weapon. My weapon.
"Better," Voltaris conceded, his voice a low rumble in my mind. "But sloppy. Your control is abysmal. We'll work on that tomorrow. Now, rest. You've taken your first real step, boy. The path forward is paved with the ashes of your enemies."