26 - Magic Test
**Lysandra**
I hadn’t seen him since our argument, and I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
Drakar had a way of consuming every corner of my mind, his presence impossible to ignore whether he was near or far. Now, the silence in the castle felt heavier without him. I told myself I didn’t care. If he wanted to sulk or brood or whatever it was dragons did, that was his problem.
But the truth was harder to admit. I didn’t want him to leave me.
The thought made me pause as I tightened the straps on my training gear. I shook my head, trying to push it away. I was already tired of his hot and cold treatment, the way he made me feel like the centre of his world one moment and a mere inconvenience the next. If he couldn’t decide what he wanted, then maybe it was better this way.
Still, I hated the uneasy knot in my stomach that wouldn’t go away.
Ravok’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Are you going to stand there daydreaming, or are we going to get started?”
I looked up to see him waiting in the training courtyard, his arms crossed and his usual smirk firmly in place. His patience, if he ever had any, was clearly wearing thin.
My eyes swept over his features trying to figure out if he was going to bring the incident from the last training session we had, but nothing. He looked almost the same, except this time, he didn’t have that look of pity on his face that I hated so much.
He was looking at me like I was… fun. The look was distant, but it was there.
“Sorry,” I muttered, walking over to join him.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, his tone sharp. “Focus. You’ll need it.”
Training with Ravok was gruelling, to say the least. He had no sympathy for weakness and even less tolerance for excuses. But despite his rough edges, he wasn’t cruel. There was a strange sort of care in the way he pushed me like he genuinely believed I could be better—stronger—if I tried hard enough.
And I was trying. Even if every muscle in my body ached and my mind felt like it was stretched too thin, I refused to give up.
“Again,” he said, his voice firm as he corrected my stance. “You’re hesitating. Don’t think too deep—just act.”
I lunged forward; my movements clumsy but improving. He deflected easily, his wooden sword knocking mine aside with a sharp clang.
“Sloppy,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ll be dead before you even raise your weapon at this rate.”
I glared at him, wiping the sweat from my brow. “You could at least pretend to be encouraging.”
He snorted. “Encouragement doesn’t win battles. Discipline does.”
The session continued, each strike and counterstrike pushing me closer to my limits. But the real challenge came when Ravok shifted the focus to magic.
He suddenly dropped his wooden sword and signalled for me to drop mine. “I want to test something.” He came closer, his head tilted, and his gaze on my hand. “Show me your hand.”
I raised a brow, wondering where this was going. “Okay…” I muttered, more like a question as I raised it towards him.
“Your powers are there,” he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. “You just need to stop fighting against them.”
“I’m not fighting anything,” I said, deadpanned. I mentally scoffed at the idea of me, Lysandra Vaelan having powers. Simply impossible.
“You are,” he insisted. “You’re afraid of what’s inside you. Afraid of what it might mean. Until you let go of that fear, you’ll never unlock your full potential.”
I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t wrong, but I still didn’t believe it went that far.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Feel the energy around you. It’s everywhere—in the air, the earth, the flowers, even in me. Let it guide you.”
I became even more sceptical, wondering if he hit his head hard against something. I didn’t hit him with my wooden sword, did I? I couldn’t remember landing a hit.
He glared at me, possibly knowing what I was thinking, so I just shrugged and did as he said, taking a deep breath and trying to focus.
At first, all I felt was the thrum of my own heartbeat, loud and unsteady in my ears. But then, slowly, I became aware of something else—a faint, pulsing current, like a thread of light weaving through the darkness.
I reached for it hesitantly, unsure if it was even real.
“Good,” Ravok said, his voice softer now. “Keep going.”
But as I reached further, something shifted. The energy grew stronger, almost overwhelming, and before I could stop myself, I touched it.
No, not it—him.
The moment my hand brushed Ravok’s arm, a wave of heat surged through me, and my vision blurred. Images flashed before my eyes, fragments of a memory that wasn’t mine.
Ravok, with a buzz cut, standing in the shadows of a grand hall, his face pale and tense as he overheard voices.
‘"We’ll destroy him,"' one of them said, the words laced with venom.
'"Drakar is too dangerous to be left alive, and frankly, I don’t know why father will choose my younger brother over me to become king."'
The scene became distorted, but I could still hear voices. ‘“Have it ready in three days.”’
Static… when a cold, blood-curdling voice, drawled. ”The Curse…”
The scene shifted, the voices fading into echoes as another sensation took hold. A faint, shimmering thread of magic seemed to flow from Ravok to me, unintentional but impossible to stop.
“Lysandra,” Ravok’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.
I tried to pull back, to break the connection, but it was too late. The energy surged again, and black spots filled my vision. My legs gave out beneath me, and the world tilted as I fell.
The last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me was Ravok’s voice, calling my name.