Kion turned to Trinket, who admired his new fire with a hint of childlike awe and curiousity.
Somehow, the young elf boy hadn't noticed the lightning that formed in his hands just a few moments ago.
Kion preferred to keep it that way.
For now, it seemed that his lightning-mancy was finally responding to him.
Responding enough that it created sparks, at least.
Emotions.
He remembered Tyril's words of advice.
Somehow, that had been the key all along, or at least part of it.
Getting his emotions to free themselves from the constraints of his mind.
While learning holy flame, he had shared everything he possibly could with his sword, letting his feelings spill through him like a heavy rainstorm from a cloud.
That must have been it. The key all along. Kion would have never seen it coming on his own. He had Tyril to thank.
He took another glimpse at the writhing white flame in his hand. The lightning spark was gone.
