The training yard smelled of dust and sweat. Sunlight poured down in sharp shafts, turning every clang of steel into a piercing echo. Recruits shouted chants, sparks of flame and arcs of lightning bursting across the sparring rings. Elira struggled at the edge, her wooden sword heavy in her hands.
Her arms ached. Sweat stung her eyes. Each swing grew slower than the last. Around her, the others carved the air with clean strikes, their magic flaring bright. She tried to summon a breath of wind—her most natural element—but only a faint stir brushed her cheek. Nothing more.
By the end of drills, she could barely stand. She bent over, gasping for air—then froze.
A boot slammed down on her sword.
The blade cracked against the stone floor. Elira's blue eyes darted upward. Three older recruits towered over her, smirking.
"Well, well. The Sanctum's little stray," one sneered, grinding his heel into the sword.
Another leaned in close, his breath hot with cruelty. "Still think you belong here? You don't even know how to hold that thing."
Elira forced herself to rise, her braid clinging damp to her neck. "Move."
"Oh?" The third trainee's hand shot out, yanking at the ties of her armor. The knot loosened with a snap, the collar gaping just enough to bare her shoulder. "Pathetic. A village girl playing knight."
Elira shoved back, but he seized her wrist and slammed her against the wall. Her chest rattled with the impact.
"Say it," he growled. "Say you don't belong."
The others laughed, closing in. One tugged her braid sharply, jerking her head back. Another traced the wooden blade with his boot, splintering it to pieces.
"You want to be a knight? Or maybe…" His grin widened. "…there are other ways you could make yourself useful."
The words burned hotter than the sun. Elira twisted, trying to summon her magic. Nothing. Her chest heaved, but the wind refused her.
For the first time since she'd come here, fear bit deep. Not fear of failure—fear of what they might do next.
And then—
Fire roared.
A blazing arc tore across the ground, scorching a line between her and the bullies. Heat slammed into them, forcing them back.
The tallest recoiled with a curse. "Tch… Blacken Fire."
From the opposite side, frost spread in a swift bloom. Ice snaked across the stone, locking their boots in place. The air glittered with shards of frozen light.
The bullies swore again. "Damn it—Blizzar too?!"
Two figures stepped into the ring.
The first was a tall youth with dark hair, eyes smoldering like embers. Firelight curled in his palms, restrained but fierce. His voice cut sharp: "Touch her again, and I'll burn the lesson into your bones."
The second moved with calm precision, her cloak edged in green thread. Cold mist trailed from her staff, frost gathering at her feet. Her gaze was cool as moonlight. "Knights who call themselves strong, reduced to cornering one girl? Shameful."
The three bullies faltered. Their bravado crumbled under the oppressive weight of flame and ice. One spat on the ground and hissed, "This isn't over." Then they staggered away, muttering curses.
The yard fell silent.
Elira slumped against the wall, heart hammering. Her sword lay broken, splinters scattered across the dirt.
The dark-haired boy crossed his arms, flames still flickering at his fingertips. "If you let them treat you like prey, they'll never stop."
His words struck her like steel. She lowered her gaze, ashamed of the tremor in her hands.
The woman stepped closer and offered her hand. "But you don't have to endure it alone."
Elira hesitated, then accepted. The woman's grip was steady, grounding her.
Her voice wavered. "Why… why would you help me?"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "Because watching them made me sick. And because you're wasting what you have."
The woman nodded gently. "You command water, grass, and light. That much is clear. And wind… though no one here can guide it, strength in the others will help you find it."
Elira blinked, startled. "But I can't control any of it. It's just chaos—"
"That's because you don't feel the waves," the woman explained softly. She drew her hand through the air, glowing motes trailing behind her fingers. "Every element has a mana wave. Fire surges, water flows, grass coils, light radiates. You must hear their rhythm, not force them."
The boy added, his tone blunt: "Master your water. Build your core. When your foundation is solid, the wind will come. And when it does, it'll be yours alone."
Elira's throat tightened. Their words tore through the fear that had chained her since she arrived.
She looked at the shards of her sword, then back at them. "I… I don't want to run anymore."
For the first time, the boy's lips curled faintly, almost a smirk. "Good. Name's Darius. But some here call me Blacken Fire."
The woman smiled, her voice a calm counterpoint. "Selene. Blizzard, if you prefer titles. But to you, just Selene."
Elira drew a shaky breath, blue eyes burning with new resolve. She bent to pick up the splintered blade, gripping it tight even though it was useless.
She whispered, "I'll fight. No matter what it takes."
The moon rose over the yard that night. While others slept, Elira stood alone, sweat running down her brow, summoning water and grass again and again. The air trembled faintly, like a whisper of wind stirring at the edge of hearing.
She smiled through the ache. For the first time, she believed it might answer.