Chapter 7: Struggling with Magic
The next morning, Elara woke with a mixture of excitement and fear. Today would be her first real training session with Arion. She had survived the cursed crown, learned to control it a little on her own, and even faced the immortal king. But training with him… that was something else entirely.
She dressed quickly, placing the crown carefully on her head. The soft golden glow pulsed gently, almost like it was aware of her nervousness. She took a deep breath and followed Arion into the castle courtyard. The sky was pale with morning light, and the air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and wet stone.
Arion was already waiting, standing with his arms crossed, his armor glinting faintly in the sunlight. His expression was serious, sharp, and unreadable.
"Today," he said, his voice firm, "you will begin learning the full extent of the crown's magic. You have shown promise, yes, but what you did in your village… that was only the beginning. The crown will test you. It will push you. And you will struggle."
Elara nodded, her heart racing. She had expected this. She had survived the curse, yes, but she knew she had only scratched the surface.
Arion gestured to the courtyard. "Begin."
Elara took a deep breath and lifted her hands. She imagined a small ball of golden light hovering above her palms. It appeared, spinning gently. Her smile faltered as she tried to lift it higher. The ball wavered, flickered, and then dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
Arion's eyes narrowed. "Concentration," he said. "Focus. The crown responds to your mind. Your body is only an instrument. Calm yourself, or it will reject your commands."
Elara swallowed and tried again. This time, she closed her eyes and pictured the ball of light floating steadily. She pictured it moving in a perfect circle above her head. At first, it flickered and spun out of control. She gasped as it suddenly shot forward, narrowly missing a nearby statue.
"Slowly," Arion said, stepping closer. "Do not force it. Do not demand it. Ask. Guide. Listen."
Elara took a deep breath, her palms sweating. "Okay… I can do this," she whispered. She imagined the light hovering steadily, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing. Slowly, painfully, it began to obey. It floated, steadied, and moved with her hands.
"Yes," Arion said quietly. "Better. You are learning."
Encouraged, Elara tried something more difficult. She imagined the ball splitting into two, and then three, each moving independently. She focused with all her might, but the moment she thought of three, the lights swirled chaotically and collided, exploding in a flash of golden sparks.
Elara stumbled backward, shielding her face. "I… I can't control it!" she cried.
Arion shook his head slowly. "Yes, you can. You are trying to do too much. Magic, especially the crown's magic, is like water. Force it, and it will break. Guide it, and it will flow. Patience, Elara. Patience."
Elara bit her lip, frustrated. She had survived a curse, controlled the crown in her village, and faced an immortal king—but now, under his gaze, she felt clumsy, weak, and unworthy. Her hands trembled, and the crown pulsed erratically as if sensing her doubt.
"I'm trying!" she shouted, tears threatening to fall. "I can do this—I survived the curse! I can control the crown!"
Arion's expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained serious. "Surviving the curse is only the beginning. Controlling the crown… that takes more than courage. It takes focus, understanding, and patience. You will struggle. That is the way of magic. That is the way of power."
Elara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She thought of the crown's warm pulse on her head. It obeys me. I can do this. Slowly, she raised her hands again, focusing on one small, steady light. This time, it hovered, glowing softly. She smiled faintly, her confidence growing.
"Good," Arion said. "Now, try moving it through a pattern. A simple spiral. Control it, do not force it."
Elara's heart pounded. She imagined the light spiraling upward. At first, it wavered, flickered, and almost fell. She gritted her teeth, refusing to panic. Slowly, carefully, it followed her hands, forming a soft, glowing spiral in the air.
"Yes!" she whispered. "I did it!"
Arion nodded. "Better. But do not become arrogant. The crown will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Your strength is not measured by your ability to create light, but by your control, your patience, and your mind."
Elara felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Her arms ached, her head spun slightly, and her mind felt heavy. Yet, despite her struggles, she felt something else—pride. She had survived, she had controlled the crown, and she was learning.
Arion motioned for her to continue. "Now, we try something more difficult. Move the light without moving your hands. Let your mind guide it."
Elara froze. Without moving my hands? Her hands felt like extensions of the crown's power—they were her connection. She didn't know if she could do this.
"Focus," Arion said gently. "Feel the crown. Let it respond to your thoughts, not your movements."
Elara closed her eyes, concentrating with every ounce of her being. The crown pulsed against her head, warm and alive, almost encouraging her. She pictured the light floating above her hands, spinning slowly, rising higher into the air. At first, it flickered, then steadied. Slowly, it began to hover, floating without her hands moving.
Her eyes snapped open. The light floated steadily, spinning in the air as if following her thoughts. Elara gasped, amazed. "I… I did it," she whispered.
Arion's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a flicker of approval. "Yes. You did it. But remember—magic is not only creation. It is also control. You will fail. You will struggle. And you will learn from those failures. That is the path of mastery."
Elara nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and exhaustion. Her hands ached, her mind felt drained, but she was learning. And for the first time, she felt the true weight of her power—and her responsibility.
Hours passed as Arion guided her through exercises. Sometimes the crown responded perfectly. Sometimes it flared wildly, refusing to obey. Each failure frustrated her, but each small success filled her with confidence.
By the end of the day, Elara's arms were sore, her head ached, and her mind felt heavy with concentration. But she had achieved more than she had thought possible. She had moved objects, created light, formed shields, and even guided the crown with her thoughts alone.
Arion stepped back, watching her with a mixture of respect and caution. "You are progressing quickly," he said. "But remember, control is never complete. The crown tests everyone. It tests even the strongest. You are no exception."
Elara wiped the sweat from her brow, smiling faintly. "I understand," she said. "I'll keep trying."
Arion nodded, a small flicker of approval in his eyes. "Good. Tomorrow, we begin a new lesson—one that will test your focus even further. But for now… rest. You have done well."
Elara removed the crown and placed it carefully on the table beside her. It pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat, as if acknowledging her progress. She lay down, exhausted but exhilarated.
I can do this, she thought. I survived the curse. I am learning to control the crown. I will master it.
As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a soft warmth on her head, a whisper in her mind: We are stronger together. We will learn. We will rise.
Elara smiled faintly. She had struggled, yes, but she had survived. And tomorrow… she would continue her journey toward mastering the crown—and discovering the true power within herself.