MADELINE'S POV
--
I believe I can do it.
I believe that I am the flame that carries my anger.
I believe--
"This isn't working," My hands fall into my lap as I let out a defeated sigh. The sun baking down on my head has a coat of sweat forming over my forehead, the beads ever so slowly rolling, thin strands of hair sticking to my skin, my back soaked from how hot I am.
“You aren’t even trying.” Atlas sighs, elbows resting on his raised knees, fingers hooked together as he stares at me. He’s sitting under the shade of the tree, staring at me like I’m incompetent. “Says the one who’s comfortable.” I snap at him.
After half an hour of trying to summon flames and failing, he demanded I sit in the sun because I’m too comfortable. “Comfortable isn’t going to get you anywhere.” He retorts,
