Chapter 30 THORIAN INTENSITY
LYRA
Rain began to fall. Light at first, cool droplets kissing my cheeks and beading on Tempest’s scales. The scent of wet earth rose from the ground below.
Ser Thorian’s voice cut through the quiet. “Good. Steady. Now draw real lightning. Small bolts only. Control the strike point.”
My pulse quickened. I kept my eyes closed, focusing inward. The bond deepened until I could feel the raw electricity coiled in Tempest’s core like a living thing, restless, hungry, waiting for direction.
I coaxed it upward, imagining the spark traveling through my own veins, up my spine, out through my fingertips. A low crackle built in the air. The hairs on my arms stood on end.
Power hummed in my chest, electric and exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind at my back.
A single bolt lanced downward from the gathering clouds, striking the exact patch of earth Ser Thorian had indicated. The flash lit the inside of my eyelids white-hot. Triumph surged through me, sharp and bright.
“Again,” Ser Thorian commanded. “Faster. Stronger. But contained.”
I pushed harder. The second bolt came quicker, brighter, the thunderclap following almost immediately. My muscles tensed, sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool air. The power felt alive now, wilder, tugging at the edges of my control like a stallion testing its reins.
Tempest’s presence steadied me, feeding me strength, but the vision flickered again at the edges of my mind: red lightning, corrupted and hungry, streaking through a tornado of darkness.
No. I squeezed my eyes tighter, breathing through the surge. Not now. Not here. I pictured the lightning as a thread I could weave, not a chain I had to fight. The third bolt cracked across the sky, clean, controlled, striking precisely where I willed it.
The thunder rolled through my bones, vibrating in harmony with Tempest’s deep rumble of approval.
Ser Thorian’s voice rose again. “Expand it. A full localized storm. Contain every drop, every spark. Do not let it spread beyond the pillars.”
I drew deeper. The wind picked up, whipping my violet curls free from the braid until they streamed behind me like a banner of midnight and lightning. Rain intensified, drumming against my leathers, soaking through to my skin.
Lightning danced along Tempest’s spines, jumping to my fingertips in harmless sparks that tingled like static. Power roared through me, exhilarating, overwhelming, terrifying.
My heart hammered against my ribs. For one dizzying moment I felt like I was the storm: every gust, every drop, every bolt an extension of my will.
Then the vision tried to push through again, red lightning, the shadowy figure reaching for Tempest. My focus wavered. A rogue bolt veered wildly, scorching a patch of grass dangerously close to the pillars. Wind howled outward, uncontrolled.
“Control it!” Ser Thorian barked, voice cutting like a whip. “Do not fight the power. Ride it!”
Kai’s voice rose from the ground, steady and urgent. “Breathe with her, Lyra! You’re fighting instead of flowing. Let it move through you, not against you!”
I gritted my teeth, eyes still squeezed shut, and surrendered to the bond. Tempest’s warmth flooded me, guiding, anchoring. The wind calmed. The lightning realigned.
Rain fell in a perfect circle contained within the rune-carved pillars. I held it there, steady, contained, mine for a long, breathless moment before slowly releasing it.
The storm dissipated like mist in sunlight, leaving the field damp and smelling of ozone and wet stone.
I opened my eyes, chest heaving, every muscle trembling with exhaustion and triumph. Raindrops still clung to my lashes. My violet curls were plastered to my neck and cheeks, soaked through.
Ser Thorian studied me for a long, silent moment, then gave a single sharp nod. “Progress. Sloppy at the edges, but progress. We meet again at dusk. Kai, you will spar with her tomorrow, light aerial drills. Report any unusual visions or power surges directly to me.”
“Yes, Father.”
As Ser Thorian strode away toward the main grounds, Kai moved to Tempest’s side and offered me a hand down. His grip was firm, warm, steadying.
The moment my boots touched the ground my legs nearly buckled again, but he was there, one arm sliding around my waist to keep me upright.
“You did well,” he murmured, voice low and close to my ear.
I leaned into him for a heartbeat, letting the solid warmth of his chest ground me before pulling back. “It keeps coming back. The red lightning. The shadow. But I’m handling it. For now.”
He searched my face, green eyes dark with concern and something deeper, more protective. “You don’t have to handle it alone. Remember that.”
We walked back toward the main grounds together, shoulders brushing. The Academy was waking up around us, riders heading to breakfast, dragons calling from the roosts, the distant clang of the armory.
Normalcy felt jarring after the raw power I had just wielded.
Yvaine found us near the cafeteria entrance, eyes bright with curiosity. “How was it? Did Ser Thorian make you summon an actual hurricane, or just a polite rain shower?”
“Somewhere in between,” I laughed weakly, still catching my breath. “I almost set the field on fire instead of calling a clean bolt. Tempest kept me from embarrassing myself completely.”
She linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the food line. “Come on. You look like you need three helpings of everything. And then you can tell me how it really went.”
Cassius was already at a table when we entered. He waved us over, lemon-green eyes lighting up when they landed on me. “Storm rider! Survived the legendary Thorian intensity?”
“Barely,” I admitted, sliding into a seat across from him. Kai sat beside me, jaw tight again as Cassius leaned in to ask for details.