The week passed in a blur of intense training and solitude. Every morning, I made my way to Merlow’s tower, where he patiently guided me through the mysteries of my powers. I discovered I could summon fire, coax water to rise and swirl, and feel the steady pull of the earth beneath my feet. The air, too, answered my call, whipping around me in gentle breezes or fierce gusts. It was exhilarating—and terrifying.
Yet for all the progress I made, I knew I was far from mastery. My control was fleeting, my emotions often dictating the outcome more than my will. Merlow reassured me that such mastery would take time, but time wasn’t something I felt I had.
In the castle, I was a ghost. My father had not spoken to me since the day of my arrival. The servants avoided my gaze, treating me as though
