Chapter Twenty-Six: Elar

  Ash woke when a probing, insistent thought of hunger gnawed at his mind like a determined creature trying to burrow through his consciousness. The sensation was foreign yet oddly familiar, like having someone else's appetite superimposed over his own resting thoughts.

  He rolled in his bed roll, trying to ignore the intrusion. The woolen fabric scratched against his skin as he turned, pulling it tighter around himself. He just wanted five more minutes of peaceful oblivion, that delicious space between dreaming and waking where nothing was required of him.

  More probing, more hunger. The sensation intensified, becoming impossible to ignore, like a child tugging persistently at his sleeve.

  He sighed in defeat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with knuckles that still felt heavy with exhaustion. The cool morning air caressed his face as he crawled reluctantly from his bed roll, every muscle protesting the movement. Dew dampened the grass around their small campsite, glittering in the early morning light filtering through the canopy above.

  Lilith stirred beside him, seeming to sense his wakefulness. She arched her back in a stretch that looked almost feline, her wings extended outward to their full span, tail going rigid and straight. She yawned widely, revealing rows of tiny sharp teeth, and a puff of smoke blew out of her mouth, curling upward before dissipating in the morning air.

  Her green eyes regarded him with unmistakable expectation, and that thought pushed at his mind again with renewed intensity.

  Hunger

  The sensation was so visceral that Ash's own stomach responded with a sympathetic growl, though he hadn't been particularly hungry upon waking.

  "Let's eat, and then we must leave." Amalia's voice cut through the morning quiet, practical and devoid of warmth as always.

  She was already up and ready for the day, clothed in her pristine black robes that never seemed to gather dust or wrinkles despite their travels. Her white staff was firmly in hand, its strange engravings catching the light as she moved. Ash wondered if she ever actually slept, or if she simply waited, vigilant and unchanged, through the night hours.

  With a casual gesture, she produced some bread and jerked meat from her seemingly endless supply of provisions. The bread looked crusty but edible, the meat dark and tough, preserved for travel rather than flavor.

  It wasn't much of a breakfast, certainly nothing compared to Aunt Dara's hearty morning meals back at the farm. The memory of fresh eggs and hot porridge made his mouth water even as he reached for the simple fare Amalia offered.

  Lilith sniffed at the jerked meat, her nostrils flaring. Her small snout wrinkled in obvious distaste before she calmly knocked it to the floor with a deliberate swipe of her clawed hand. The piece of dried meat skidded across the dirt, collecting dust.

  Amalia sighed, a rare display of something approaching normal human emotion.

  "I thought she would do as much. Very well." There was resignation in her tone, as if she had anticipated this behavior but had hoped to be proven wrong.

  She produced a small cooked bird out of nothing, or so it seemed to Ash. One moment her hands were empty, the next she held a perfectly roasted fowl, its skin crisp and golden, releasing an aroma that made Ash's mouth water again, this time with genuine hunger. She tossed it to his dragon companion with casual precision.

  Lilith snapped it up with a happy squeak, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she began to tear into her breakfast with gusto, small plumes of smoke occasionally puffing from her nostrils as she ate.

  Ash, to his disappointment but not surprise, did not receive cooked meat, and instead had to be content with his jerked meat and bread. The jerky was tough, requiring considerable effort to tear off a piece, and the bread was slightly stale. Still, it was sustenance, and he ate without complaint, watching Lilith enjoy her far superior meal with only a small pang of envy.

  After they ate, wiping crumbs from their hands and making sure the campsite was clear of any obvious signs of their presence, Amalia tapped her staff against the ground. The sound it made was sharper than should have been possible, ringing like crystal rather than wood meeting earth.

  She spoke the same word she'd used for their arrival here, her voice taking on that strange, multilayered quality that made the hairs on Ash's arms stand on end.

  There came a flash of color that momentarily overwhelmed his vision, swirling and pulsing like liquid light. When his sight cleared, as suddenly as if someone had wiped a window clean, they stood in the ashen ruins of Drakosia once more. The field of gray stretched out before them, broken buildings protruding from the colorless landscape like jagged teeth.

  "That was less involved than before," Ash stated, noting the relative ease with which they had returned compared to their journey into the strange pocket realm.

  "You have already passed this trial, and there is no need to make you go through another just yet." Amalia's reply was matter-of-fact, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather rather than magical trials and mysterious portals.

  Ash frowned, suspicion creeping into his thoughts. He didn't like the implication of her words, the subtle promise of future challenges that he hadn't asked for and didn't want.

  "I don't like those words. 'This trial' and 'another just yet.' How about no more trials?" He tried to keep his tone light, but the undertone of frustration was impossible to miss.

  "Life is an endless trial, Master Lorcan. Rise to it." Her voice held no sympathy, no allowance for his displeasure. With that philosophical dismissal, she began to walk across the field of ash, her footsteps leaving no impressions in the gray dust, as if she weighed nothing at all.

  Ash followed, with Lilith bounding along beside him, her tail and wings flopping with each enthusiastic leap. Unlike Amalia, both of them left clear footprints in the ash, marking their passage through the silent, dead city.

  As they walked, Ash found his thoughts turning to the strange experience in the dragon lords' armory. The trial had been unexpected and terrifying, yet he had emerged victorious, with a connection to Lilith that he still didn't fully understand. What other trials lay ahead? And why did Amalia seem so determined to push him through them without proper explanation?

  The questions circled in his mind like birds of prey, finding no purchase, no answers forthcoming from the enigmatic woman who led them through the ashen wasteland.

  ------------------------

  Near evening, when the sky had begun to turn the color of bruised fruit, they stopped at a small clearing surrounded by twisted trees that had somehow survived whatever cataclysm had befallen the city. Ash prepped the fire, gathering what dry wood he could find and arranging it carefully while Amalia readied the food to be cooked.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The crackling flames soon cast dancing shadows across their faces, bringing a small circle of warmth to the otherwise desolate landscape. The aroma of cooking meat filled the air, making Ash's stomach rumble in anticipation.

  "After tonight, we will reach the road," Amalia said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over their small camp. "Lilith will need to travel in her human form. We cannot afford the attention she might draw in this form."

  Ash nodded, looking at Lilith, who was sprawled near the fire, enjoying its warmth. She flicked her tail in acknowledgment of the request, seemingly unconcerned by the necessity of changing her appearance. Ash wondered, not for the first time, how much she truly understood of their conversations and the world around them. Sometimes she seemed almost childlike in her simplicity, other times he caught glimpses of an intelligence far beyond what her appearance suggested.

  After they ate, their hunger satisfied by the simple but filling meal, Amalia spoke up again, her voice taking on a more instructional tone.

  "It is time you try once more to access your elar. You shouldn't encounter any trouble, now that you have the bond." She settled back against a fallen log, her posture relaxed but her violet eyes watchful.

  Ash nodded, settling himself more comfortably on the ground. He closed his eyes, focusing his attention inward. He had never had much trouble finding his elan before. It was getting across the chasm and drawing upon it that had been the problem, that frustrating gap between seeing the source of his power and actually being able to reach it.

  With practiced ease, he sought out his inner landscape, feeling the familiar sense of falling inward, past thoughts and emotions, to the core of his being. The chilly orb of his elan appeared before his mind's eye, its frost blue and pale silver light pulsing gently in the darkness of his consciousness.

  Yet this time was different. Where before there had been an unbridgeable chasm separating him from his power, now a bridge spanned the void. It was formed of shadow and motes of smoldering violet light, delicate yet sturdy, a miraculous crossing where none had existed before.

  His mental hand reached towards the orb of frost blue and pale silver, extending across the bridge with a mixture of hope and trepidation. This time, instead of grasping at emptiness, he succeeded in touching the orb, in drawing its power across the newly formed connection.

  Ash sucked in a sharp breath as tendrils of the orb shot over the bridge, traveling throughout his body like lightning seeking ground. The sensation was both exhilarating and overwhelming, power flooding through channels that had never before contained such energy.

  Indescribable euphoria coursed through him, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Simultaneously, his mind and senses flared to life with unnatural acuity. He could hear the bugs crawling over the ground, their tiny feet creating a cacophony of scratching sounds. The steady heartbeat of Amalia registered in his ears, along with the rhythm of Lilith's breathing, both sounds as distinct and clear as if his ears were pressed against their chests.

  The leaves swaying in the gentle evening breeze sounded like distant booms of thunder, each rustle amplified a thousandfold. All of that noise, that overwhelming awareness, engulfed him as if he had just plunged his face into a pillow filled with sound itself, suffocating and inescapable.

  He clasped his hands over his ears, closing his eyes tightly as if that could somehow dim the sensory overload. "It's too much! Too much!" His voice sounded strange to his own hyper-sensitive ears, both too loud and too distant.

  Desperately, he cut his mind off from his elan, severing the connection as abruptly as slamming a door. The elar within him dissipated rapidly, drying up as if he had just placed a dam over the source of his power. The sudden absence of sensation was almost as jarring as its presence had been, leaving him feeling hollow and disoriented.

  He breathed deeply, deliberately. In and out. The normal sounds of the evening gradually returned to their proper proportions – the crackle of the fire, the distant call of a night bird, the soft whisper of the breeze.

  "What was that?" he asked, his voice still slightly shaky. "It was all so much, and yet it... felt so good." The memory of that intense pleasure lingered, a ghost of sensation that made him want to try again despite the overwhelming nature of the experience. "You're telling me Rosalia, Will and Nick have control of this?"

  "To a degree," Amalia said, tearing off a small piece of bread and eating it before elaborating. The firelight cast half her face in shadow, making her expression even more difficult to read than usual.

  "As a dragon lord, you're going to have more power than most, more than you know. Magic has a cost, however. Your bond means that you will experience the effects of drawing elar at double what others would experience. It also means your techniques will use even more elar." Her words were measured, each one precisely chosen and delivered without emotion.

  Ash looked over at Lilith, who had apparently lost interest in their conversation and was now attacking a small rock with great determination, batting it between her claws as if it were prey to be subdued. She glanced up at him briefly, cocking her head in that curious way she had, snorted a puff of smoke, and went back to her battle with the rock.

  "I wonder who's winning," Ash mused, momentarily distracted by her antics. The small display of normal, almost playful behavior was a welcome relief after the intensity of his experience with elar.

  He shook his head, turning his attention back to the storyteller. "Everything will be twice as hard. Got it. Because I can never catch a break." The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, a reflection of the frustration he felt at yet another obstacle in his path.

  Amalia did not reply, her silence neither confirming nor denying his complaint. She simply continued to eat her bread, watching him with those unreadable violet eyes.

  Determined not to be defeated so easily, Ash dove back in, drawing elar once more. Now that he knew what to expect, he braced himself for the assault of pleasure and tide of sensory information. Even with this preparation, the force of it nearly made him pass out, his consciousness wavering like a candle flame in a strong breeze.

  This time, however, he did not cut off the connection. Rather, he tried to embrace it, to accept and integrate the overwhelming sensations instead of fighting against them. If others could master this, so could he.

  That was a mistake.

  The cold euphoria multiplied, cascading through his system like an avalanche. Ash was nearly consumed by the combination of sensation, euphoria, and bone-deep chill. His awareness expanded beyond his body, beyond normal perception, threatening to dissolve his very sense of self.

  He was forced to cut the connection before his mind was frozen, then shattered into pieces by the sheer force of power flowing through him. The abrupt cessation left him gasping, sweat beading on his forehead despite the evening chill.

  "Any help here?" he asked, looking to Amalia with a mixture of frustration and desperation. Despite her cryptic nature and often unhelpful responses, she was still the only one who seemed to understand what he was experiencing.

  His supposed teacher merely shrugged, the firelight dancing across her impassive features. "How one deals with elar is different for everyone."

  "Why?" The question burst from him, simple yet loaded with all his confusion and frustration.

  "You will learn it at the academy," Amalia replied, noncommittal as ever. She bit into her bread again, chewing slowly, seemingly untroubled by his struggles.

  Ash threw up his hands in exasperation, the gesture sharp and animated in contrast to Amalia's stillness. "I want to know now. How am I supposed to improve if I don't know how to do so?" His voice rose slightly, carrying his frustration into the quiet night.

  "You could try using your mind." Amalia's tone held the faintest hint of dry humor, though her expression remained unchanged.

  "Har har. Come on, you're the teacher here. Teach!" Ash demanded, patience wearing thinner by the moment.

  Amalia lifted an eyebrow, the subtle expression somehow conveying volumes of skepticism. "I'm a teacher now, am I? I don't remember taking on such a role."

  Ash gaped at her, momentarily speechless at her denial. Then he gestured to the sword by his side, the weapon he had been learning to use under her guidance. "What have you been doing then, the last few weeks?"

  "I taught you enough to survive, and perhaps pass the academy's entrance exam. That's all." Her voice was cool, matter-of-fact. "It doesn't obligate me to teach you everything."

  "So you're just going to let me wallow in my ignorance?" The question came out sharper than he intended, edged with genuine hurt beneath the frustration.

  "Indeed." The single word was like a door closing. Then, unexpectedly, she added, "Or, you can figure it out yourself. You should have had enough clues to put it together by now."

  He gave her a scowl, which she showed no reaction to, as immovable as stone. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Ash closed his eyes and made another attempt. This time, he tried to look for these clues she mentioned, though he had no idea what they might be.

  All he saw was that frozen blue and pale silver white orb, pulsing with potential power. Once again, his elar suffused him with cold, and the now-familiar euphoria and increased senses followed, overwhelming his attempts to maintain control.

  He was forced to cut off from his elan once again, the connection snapping like a thread pulled too tight. He growled in frustration, brows knitting together. Why can't I get this? he thought, anger at himself mingling with determination.

  It was like a winter storm inside of him, raging and wild, but along with the cold came everything else – the pleasure, the enhanced senses, all of it too much to process at once. He liked feeling the pleasure, the rush of power and capability, and it would have been outright addicting if the sensory part of it wasn't so unpleasant, so overwhelming.

  Every time he failed, he wondered what these clues could be. What answers could he uncover that would lead him to success? What was he missing that seemed so obvious to Amalia?

  The thought that Rosalia, Will, and Nick were well ahead of him in this grated on his nerves. They were ready to learn next steps, to advance their abilities further. If he couldn't get this fundamental aspect down, he never would catch up to them, let alone surpass them.

  He gritted his teeth, scrunching his eyes shut even harder in concentration. He would succeed. He had to. He had magic now, and he would use it, master it, bend it to his will if necessary.

  Ash kept trying well into the night, each attempt ending in the same frustrating failure. The fire burned down to embers, casting less and less light as the hours passed. Lilith had long since curled up to sleep, her small form rising and falling with each breath, occasionally twitching as she dreamed draconic dreams.

  Finally, when the moon had risen high overhead and his body screamed for rest, he had to admit he was going to get no farther tonight. His mind was too tired, his concentration frayed at the edges by hours of repeated failure.

  He crawled back into his bedroll, muscles aching from sitting in one position for so long. Lilith stirred slightly as he settled in, then pressed closer to his warmth with a small contented sound.

  He fell asleep as he had the night before, the weariness of his body quickly pulling him into slumber. But this time, he did dream.

  In his dream, he stood alone in the darkest night, surrounded by swirling snow and howling winds. A raging winter storm engulfed him, its fury matching his own determination. He was seeking its heart, its center, the still point within the chaos, with nothing but a mental blade forged from his will.

  In the dream, he fought against the storm, struggling to reach its core. And somewhere in that struggle, a realization began to form, a seed of understanding that would not fully bloom until morning.