16 - Training
1104 Words
The road stretched ahead like a scar across the landscape—empty, grey, and humming beneath the wheels of the old transport vehicle. Elise sat in silence beside Soren, arms folded tightly across her chest, eyes fixed on the horizon like it had personally offended her.
Each mile that passed only made the knot in her stomach tighten.
The wind outside howled against the frame, but the silence inside the cabin was worse.
Soren finally glanced her way. “You’ve been quiet for an hour. That a new record?”
She didn’t look at him. “I’m conserving energy.”
He smirked. “That right? Must be serious, then.”
She exhaled through her nose. Not a laugh. Not quite a sigh either.
When they finally reached the outpost where the power specialist was supposed to be stationed, Elise moved fast, boots hitting the ground with sharp determination. She stormed through the hallway like a soldier on a mission—and when the receptionist told her the specialist was gone, her body went rigid.
“Gone?” she repeated, her voice sharp and low.
The woman behind the desk didn’t flinch. “Left yesterday morning. Transferred to Sector 9. Won’t be back for at least a month.”
A month.
A whole month.
Elise’s jaw locked. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
“Of course they’re gone,” she muttered under her breath.
Soren stepped beside her, his presence calm but steady. “We’ll wait, then. Or find another.”
But she was already shaking her head. “We don’t have time.”
“Elise—”
“It’s getting worse, Soren.” Her voice cracked slightly, barely audible. “I don’t have a month.”
A beat passed.
Then, his voice—gentle, but firm.
“Then let me help.”
She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “You?”
Soren shrugged one shoulder, a lopsided grin forming. “I know about energy control, not just healing someone.”
She hesitated.
“Until the specialist returns,” he added, “let me help you keep it in check.”
Elise sighed, the weight of exhaustion pulling at her shoulders. “Fine. But if you explode, it’s on you.”
“Deal.”
The training room was cold.
Not from temperature—but from silence, from the way it swallowed noise and emotion alike. Reinforced walls lined with deep cracks and scorch marks bore witness to failed control, to raw, untamed power that had once lashed out in desperation.
It was the perfect place for Elise.
Soren stood across from her, sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable as he stretched his arms out and flexed his fingers.
“Alright,” he said, tone easy but laced with focus. “Let’s start simple.”
Elise raised a brow, crossing her arms. “There’s nothing simple about this.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She hesitated. Her power stirred beneath her skin—buzzing faintly, a low hum in her ears. It always felt like it was watching, waiting for a moment of weakness to unravel her from the inside out.
“I can’t promise it won’t lash out,” she muttered. “It’s... unpredictable.”
Soren took a single step closer, just enough to be within reach, but not enough to crowd her.
“I know. But I’m not afraid of you, Elise.”
Her chest tightened at the words. Not pity. Not bravado. Just honesty.
He gestured to the floor mat in front of him.
“Come on. Sit. We’ll start with breathwork and grounding.”
She moved reluctantly, folding her legs beneath her, sitting across from him. The cold seeped into her bones, but Soren’s voice kept her tethered.
“Inhale for four. Hold. Exhale for six.”
They breathed together. One count. Two. Again.
And again.
But as soon as she let her power rise—testing its edges—it reacted.
The glow flared at her fingertips, flickering gold with veins of white-blue lightning that danced like fireflies. Her pulse spiked. Her jaw clenched.
“It’s building—”
“Don’t fight it,” Soren said softly. “Channel it.”
“It doesn’t want to be channeled.”
The air warped around her, pressure spiking like something was about to detonate.
“Elise—breathe.”
But she didn’t have time.
It snapped. A wild surge exploded outward like a whipcrack, instinctual and vicious. Soren dodged to the side just in time, the blast splitting the air beside his face and tearing through the floor behind him.
A long silence followed. Smoke coiled in the air. Elise’s breath came in ragged gasps, her hands trembling as the light faded.
Soren stood slowly, brushing dust off his shoulder.
“That was progress.”
She gaped at him. “I almost killed you.”
“Keyword: almost.”
“Why are you not more concerned about this?” Her voice was sharp, strained. “This isn’t a game—”
“I know that,” he said, voice suddenly firm. “Do you think I’d risk this if I didn’t?”
His tone caught her off guard—low, steady, and bare of his usual humor.
“I know what you’re carrying. I know it scares you. But I’m not going to walk away just because it’s dangerous.”
Elise swallowed hard.
“You don’t have to be the one to help me.”
“No,” he said quietly, “but I want to.”
She looked up at him, studying the set of his jaw, the way his brows furrowed just slightly—not in fear, but in stubborn devotion. There was no smirk now. No teasing.
Just Soren.
“You act like you’ve done this before,” she said.
“I haven’t.”
He hesitated, then sat down across from her again. This time, closer.
“Truth is,” he admitted, “you’re the first person I’ve ever done this for. First person I’ve let get this close.”
She blinked. “Seriously? No exes?”
He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No time. No trust. No one who ever made me want to try.”
Their eyes locked.
The glow on her fingertips returned—gentle this time, like embers rather than wildfire. She could feel her pulse slowing, not because the energy had faded… but because it didn’t feel quite as violent anymore.
It felt... witnessed.
Soren smiled, softer now.
“Let’s try again.”
Elise took a breath.
And this time, her power didn’t fight her—it listened.
- Writer
