The morning sun broke through the dense canopy of trees, casting thin beams of light onto the forest floor. The warmth of the sunlight, however, did little to ease the storm that still raged within Soreil. He hadn't slept well, his mind constantly consumed by the battle and the beast that had nearly torn them apart.
He sat now, cross-legged on a flat rock near the clearing where the creature had fallen, his sword resting across his knees. The blade had been wiped clean of blood, but the weight of it felt heavier than ever. The storm within him hadn't dissipated with the fight—it had only grown stronger, more insistent.
Lyra stood a few paces away, her back to him as she scanned the horizon. Her posture was tense, as if she, too, could feel the aftereffects of the battle. Soreil could tell she was waiting for him to speak, but he had nothing to say. Not yet.
Instead, he focused on his breathing, trying to center himself. The storm raged inside him, pulsing with energy, but there was no direction to it. It was like an untamed beast, clawing at his insides, demanding to be unleashed. Every fiber of his being screamed for release.
But that was the problem. He couldn't control it. Not fully.
Soreil's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He had learned a lot during the fight, but there was something more he needed to understand. Something that could help him gain control over the storm and, by extension, himself.
"I need to train," he muttered, more to himself than to Lyra.
She turned, her brow furrowing. "Train? With what? We're already fighting for our lives, Soreil. We can't afford to waste time."
"I'm not wasting time," he snapped, surprising even himself with the sharpness of his tone. He quickly relaxed his posture, sighing in frustration. "What I mean is, I need to find a way to control this power. If I can't, I'll end up destroying myself before we even reach our goal."
Lyra's gaze softened, her eyes narrowing with understanding. "I get it. You're afraid of losing control."
He met her gaze, his expression hardening. "If I don't learn to master it, then this storm will consume me. It's already changing me, Lyra. I can feel it. I'm not the same person I was before the Rift."
Lyra nodded, stepping closer to him. "So, what do you need from me?"
Soreil thought for a moment, considering her question. He had been pushing himself to understand the storm within him, but there was something missing—something fundamental about harnessing it. He didn't know how to wield it properly. He couldn't afford to keep guessing.
"I need you to help me train," he said finally. "Not just with the sword. I need to learn how to control this power, to harness it."
Lyra didn't respond immediately. She simply looked at him, as if weighing his request, and for a moment, Soreil wasn't sure what she would say.
Finally, she spoke, her voice steady. "Alright. But it won't be easy. I'll push you harder than you think you can handle. If you want to survive, you'll need to face the storm inside you head-on."
Soreil met her eyes, determination flashing across his face. "I'm ready."
---
For the next several days, Soreil and Lyra traveled deeper into the forest, away from the clearing where the beast had fallen. They found a secluded, quiet valley, far from any major settlements or beast nests. It was the perfect place to train, away from distractions and dangers.
Lyra had set up camp near a small creek that ran through the valley, the sound of the water flowing over rocks providing a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Soreil could feel the storm in the air, as if even the environment was charged with energy. His nerves were raw, his senses heightened.
"Alright, Soreil," Lyra said as she stood across from him, her posture relaxed yet focused. "Let's start with the basics. You have the power, but you lack control. So first, you need to learn how to feel the storm, understand it, instead of letting it dictate your actions."
Soreil nodded, his grip on the sword steady. It was time to take the first step toward mastering the power within him.
"Focus on your breath," Lyra instructed. "Clear your mind. Don't try to fight it yet. Let the storm come to you."
Soreil closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. He could feel the energy stirring inside him, a pulsing force that seemed to respond to his every thought, his every movement. He didn't try to control it, not yet. He simply let it come, allowed it to fill him, to spread through his veins like fire.
The storm raged, but this time, Soreil didn't push it away. He welcomed it, feeling the power swirl around him. The air around him crackled with energy, and the temperature seemed to drop. He could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end, the sensation of raw power washing over him.
"Now, reach out with your senses," Lyra said. "Feel the storm, but don't let it control you. You control it. Understand its flow."
Soreil let his mind wander, expanding outward. The storm was wild, untamed, but there was an underlying current to it, a rhythm that he could almost hear in his mind. It wasn't chaotic. It was alive, but it could be controlled.
As he focused, he began to feel the storm's true form—a vast, swirling current of energy that flowed like a river inside him. He could almost see it, feel it, as if it were a part of him. But it was still too much. The storm was too vast, too powerful.
"Focus," Lyra urged. "Don't try to control everything. Start with one small aspect. One thread of the storm. Feel it. Understand it."
Soreil tightened his grip on his sword, drawing the energy toward the blade. Slowly, the storm seemed to respond, gathering around the weapon. The sword hummed, its edge glowing with a faint blue light as the storm infused it.
He moved the sword experimentally, feeling its weight shift slightly as the storm danced through the blade. With every swing, the storm's presence grew stronger, but so did his understanding of it. He could control it—just a little, but enough to begin.
"Good," Lyra said, watching him closely. "You're beginning to understand. But don't get cocky. This is just the beginning."
Soreil nodded, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to maintain control over the storm. He could feel it, swirling around him, threatening to break free, but he fought to keep it contained.
"I can feel it," Soreil said, his voice steady despite the tension building in his chest. "I can control it. Just a little more."
Lyra watched him for a moment longer before speaking. "Remember, Soreil, control isn't about domination. It's about balance. The storm doesn't need to be destroyed, only contained and directed."
Soreil lowered his sword slightly, letting the energy settle within him. He was exhausted, but there was a strange sense of clarity in his mind now. He had taken the first step, and though it wasn't perfect, it was progress.
"I'm ready for more," Soreil said, his voice calm but determined.
Lyra smiled, a rare, approving smile that made Soreil feel as though he had just taken a monumental step forward. "Then let's begin."
The storm was only growing, and Soreil knew that his journey was far from over. But now, for the first time, he felt as though he might have the strength to face it.