Training, Maya quickly learned, was nothing like the movies.
There were no dramatic hand gestures.
No glowing circles carved into the air.
No triumphant music swelling when she succeeded.
Mostly, there was cold. Focus. And Rowan telling her to breathe.
"Again," he said calmly.
Maya stood in the empty park just beyond town limits, snow crunching under her boots. The sky was pale and clouded, the kind of winter morning that felt undecided. The charm rested against her palm, warm and patient.
"I am breathing," she insisted.
"Not enough," Rowan replied. "You're anticipating failure."
"I've spent twenty-three years being rewarded for that."
He glanced at her. "That doesn't mean it's useful now."
She huffed. "You're very motivational."
"I'm effective."
She rolled her eyes but closed them again.
They stood several feet apart, facing a small stack of tin cans Rowan had placed on a wooden bench.
"Remember," he said, "you don't push probability. You invite it."
"Invite it to do what?"
"To choose you."
"That sounds uncomfortably intimate."
Rowan almost smiled.
Maya inhaled slowly and lifted her hand.
Help me, she thought—not loud, not desperate. Just honest.
The charm warmed.
A bird startled from a nearby tree. Snow slid from a branch. One of the tin cans tipped… then fell cleanly off the bench.
Maya gasped. "I did it!"
"Yes," Rowan said quietly. "And you didn't force it."
She laughed, breathless. "That felt—"
The rest of the cans suddenly toppled all at once, clattering loudly.
Maya jumped. "Okay, I didn't mean that part!"
Rowan swore softly under his breath.
"What?" she asked.
"You overcorrected," he said. "Emotion spikes cause spillover."
"Great," she muttered. "So if I get excited, reality trips."
"More or less."
"That's reassuring."
⸻
When Magic Misfires
They reset, Rowan stacking the cans again.
"Let's try a different approach," he said. "Smaller intent. Narrow focus."
Maya nodded, lips pressed together in concentration.
She lifted the charm again.
Just one, she thought.
The charm glowed faintly.
The wind shifted.
Not the cans—
But Rowan's scarf fluttered loose, unraveling itself and tangling gently around his wrist.
Maya froze. "I didn't—!"
Rowan stared at the scarf, then at her.
The charm glowed brighter.
"Oh no," Maya whispered. "Why did it do that?"
Rowan's expression was unreadable. "Because you weren't thinking about the cans."
Her face heated. "I wasn't thinking about you."
The scarf tightened slightly, as if disagreeing.
Rowan slowly unwound it, his fingers brushing briefly against hers.
The charm pulsed.
Maya yelped and dropped her hand.
"Okay," she said quickly. "New rule. No thinking about you during training."
Rowan cleared his throat. "Agreed."
They both avoided eye contact.
Snow fell softly around them, the silence suddenly charged.
⸻
A Warning in the Ice
Rowan stiffened suddenly.
Maya noticed immediately. "What is it?"
He turned slowly, scanning the treeline. "We're not alone."
Her heart jumped. "Him?"
"No," Rowan said. "Something smaller."
The temperature dipped sharply.
Frost began creeping across the bench, crawling unnaturally fast.
Rowan stepped in front of her without thinking. "Maya—stay calm."
A shape formed among the trees—thin, translucent, almost unfinished. Ice clung to its edges, and its eyes glowed pale blue.
Maya's breath caught. "That's not the Hollow Frost."
"No," Rowan said quietly. "It's a Sentinel Shard."
"What does that mean?"
"It's a scout," Rowan replied. "Eirwyn's testing your defenses."
The shard glided forward, soundless.
The charm burned hot against Maya's palm.
Rowan raised his hand, frost spiraling instinctively around his fingers.
"Don't," Maya whispered suddenly.
He glanced back. "Maya—"
"I can feel it," she said. "It's not attacking yet."
The shard paused.
Maya stepped forward, heart pounding. "Rowan… let me try."
His jaw tightened. "If it goes wrong—"
"I know," she said. "But if I don't learn now, I never will."
The charm pulsed—steady, encouraging.
Rowan hesitated.
Then nodded once. "I'm right here."
Maya lifted her hand slowly.
You don't belong here, she thought—not with anger, but certainty.
The charm glowed gold.
The shard wavered.
Maya took a breath. "Go."
The air shimmered.
The shard cracked down the center—then dissolved into harmless frost that scattered across the snow.
Silence fell.
Maya staggered back.
Rowan caught her instantly.
"You did it," he said, awe threading his voice.
Her hands trembled. "I didn't fight it."
"That's why it worked."
She looked up at him. "You believed I could."
"Yes," he said. "I always have."
The charm pulsed warmly between them.
⸻
Lines Drawn
They packed up quickly after that, both aware the test was over—but the attention wasn't.
As they walked back toward town, Rowan spoke quietly.
"Eirwyn will escalate now."
Maya nodded. "Good. I'm tired of being scared."
Rowan glanced at her. "You're not reckless."
"Neither are you," she replied. "You just pretend you are so you don't feel things."
He stopped walking.
She turned. "Too honest?"
"No," he said softly. "Just accurate."
They stood there, breath fogging the cold air.
"Maya," Rowan said, "what you're doing—standing with me—it puts you directly in his path."
She stepped closer. "Then we don't step aside."
The charm glowed—not urgent, not commanding.
Certain.
Rowan reached out slowly, hesitating just before his fingers brushed hers.
"Then whatever happens," he said, "we face it together."
Maya nodded. "Together."
Snow fell heavier then, not threatening—almost ceremonial.
Far away, ice cracked across a frozen lake.
Eirwyn Vale felt the shift.
The Bearer was learning.
And the Guardian had chosen his side.
⸻
✨ END OF CHAPTER 9