The ironstone in Elias's palm was now warm, the violet energy radiating from its core like an internal fever. He had achieved silence, but at the cost of bottling a raw, celestial power that was fighting to be free.
"Think of this like an overheated engine," Lena explained, her voice low as she checked the seal on a jar of some iridescent blue liquid. "You can't just contain the heat; you have to bleed it off safely. If you release the pressure violently, you'll give off a massive energy spike—a celestial 'burp' that will be picked up clear across the dimensional spectrum."
Elias frowned at the stone. "How do I release it without the spike?"
"You cloak it," she said, finally looking up. "The universe is full of natural energy spikes. Lightning strikes, solar flares, massive localized surges. You hide your vent inside the noise of the physical world. For you, the easiest cover is electricity."
She pointed to a tangle of copper wires draped over a nearby shelf. "The energy you're holding is raw Intent—it doesn't naturally conform to mortal physics. But with the right geometric pressure, you can filter it, shape it, and discharge it as a massive, but seemingly mundane, electrical overload."
"I need to cause a power outage," Elias concluded.
"No, that's too simple. Too much attention," Lena countered. "You need a Controlled Localized Surge. A momentary spike of electromagnetic energy that fries a couple of local lightbulbs and maybe an aging thermostat. Something the power company writes off as 'squirrel interference' or 'grid fatigue.' Something only a witch like me would notice."
She handed him a thick, insulated glove. "Put this on. It's woven with lead and quartz—it'll help insulate you from the initial feedback loop. Now, close your eyes. Reestablish the Sphere of Silence. Keep the ironstone at the zero point."
Elias pulled on the glove. The stiff material felt alien, yet strangely reassuring. He closed his eyes and pushed his consciousness back into the quiet vacuum of his Sphere. The pressure immediately intensified, the violet energy inside his core surging against the geometric constraint.
"Good. Now, focus on the geometry of the release valve," Lena instructed, her voice calm and authoritative. "Don't break the Sphere; find the thinnest point on its surface. Then, using the logic of the local reality, calculate the precise, directional vector to push the contained energy outward."
Elias visualized the perfect sphere around him. He chose a single, infinitesimally small point on the sphere's surface—a Singularity of Exit.
Direction: Away from the ironstone. Vector: Towards the highest point of external magnetic interference.
He focused on the lamppost just outside Lena's window, which was humming with a familiar, low-grade electromagnetic field. He calculated the path: a fine, invisible wire of energy that would pierce the Sphere, travel through the air, and dissipate into the lamppost's wiring.
Release.
He nudged the pressure, allowing a fraction of the contained celestial heat to flow towards that single exit point.
It felt like uncorking a tightly sealed bottle of shimmering liquid. The violet energy surged, but instead of the brutal noise of his earlier attempt, this felt directed—clean, surgical, and contained.
Outside, a faint, sharp crack cut through the sound of the rain.
Elias gasped, his eyes flying open. He felt the rapid drop in internal pressure, the ironstone cooling to a manageable warmth. The Sphere of Silence was intact, his mind still blessedly quiet.
"Look," Lena said, her voice filled with professional satisfaction.
Through the grime-streaked window, the old lamppost across the street was dark. But it wasn't just dark—a tiny plume of white smoke curled up from its base, and the two streetlights immediately flanking it were flickering violently before settling back into a sickly yellow glow.
"That," Lena stated, tapping a small, humming box on her workbench, "was a perfect, localized grid disturbance. The power company is already filing that under 'bad splice connection' and ignoring it. You just hid a celestial vent inside a municipal headache."
Elias felt a surge of exhilarating relief. He hadn't destroyed anything important, and he had managed to control the raw power. It was the first functional, useful piece of knowledge he'd gained since arriving on Earth.
"What now?" he asked, taking off the glove. The ironstone was now a dull, inert gray again.
"Now, we practice," Lena said, pushing the blue velvet book back toward him. "You need to be able to vent that pressure without thinking. It needs to be automatic. And you need to start applying the same principles of geometry to your surroundings. The Sphere of Silence protects you, but you need an offensive capability."
She leaned closer, her green eyes intense. "Tomorrow, you go back to school. That place is a giant, unstable battery you accidentally charged up. You need to start learning how to read the school's electrical signature and, when the pressure builds, subtly redirect the energy into something useful."
"Redirect?"
"Yes. You vented it into the lamppost. Now, how about you vent it into something that helps you survive high school? Maybe your History textbook needs a sudden, accidental burst of data transfer. Maybe your locker combination needs a little nudge. Maybe you need to know what the girl sitting next to you is drawing in her notebook," she finished, a sly look in her eyes.
Elias felt the now-familiar flush of discomfort. He had mastered the theory of silence. Now, he had to master the chaotic, moral ambiguities of manipulation.
"So, I use my power to cheat?"
Lena chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Angel, you're a fugitive from the universe's ultimate authority. You're already cheating. Welcome to Earth."