Air Awakens

“Maybe?” Vhalla said honestly.

“I don’t know how it works for Windwalkers. I’m a Waterrunner so I feel the water in me to help open my Channel. So, feel the wind in you, I guess?” he explained clumsily.

“This isn’t going to work,” she muttered doubtfully. Her conviction quickly vanishing.

“Yes, it is. You haven’t even tried yet.” He gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze.

Vhalla stared at the glass. The fire kept burning within, and she shrugged.

“You call that trying?” He gave her a gentle nudge. “If looks alone could stop fire, then that would’ve done the trick.”

Vhalla scowled, and she closed her eyes, taking a breath. She had no idea how to go about this and felt rather silly for even trying. She took another slow breath. Vhalla heard the air passing through her, felt it enter her body, felt it give her life.

Hesitantly, doubtfully, she tried to imagine the position of the bulb in front of her, the fire inside. The picture formed before her almost as clear as if her eyes had been open.

Magic, she had magic within her.

She would accept that. Hadn’t she been kidnapped and pushed off a roof to force her accept it?

Vhalla thought of the prince, her mood instantly souring. She had summoned magic then. That pigheaded infuriating man had made her summon magic. If he could bring it out of her, then she would be damned if she could not bring it out through her own will. Inhaling sharply, she snapped open her eyes just in time to watch the fire blow out, and the bulb shatter.

“You did it!” Fritz’s hands were off her shoulders, and he was clapping them together like a madman.

“I broke the bulb.” She stared at the shattered glass on the floor. Thinking of the prince led her to breaking things. It wasn’t really impressive—or healthy.

“Who cares? We have a lot more.” Fritz laughed, something about his laugh was infectious, and she smiled despite herself. “You are a Windwalker!” He took both her hands in his and spun her around a few times until she felt dizzy, but slightly giddy. “Next, do that one.”

Vhalla turned to the opposite bulb and repeated the process, this time trying to think of the wind staying only within the glass, but never actually touching it. She tried to quell her emotions some, but still reach from the same font she felt when her mind turned to angry thoughts of the crown prince. The bulb shuddered before cracking and breaking. This time there were significantly fewer pieces.

“You’re amazing Vhalla!” Fritz cheered.

His words and the world around her was lost as Vhalla stared, mesmerized by the shattered glass. She had done it, more or less. Magic had been scary, mysterious, painful, or intellectual. But this was the first time she could’ve described any moment as fun or rewarding. For once, it felt good.

And, for the first time in her life, Vhalla felt strong.

“Vhalla,” A familiar voice broke her trance. “I’m sorry, I stepped out for some lessons and training and you were gone.”

She turned to look at the Western woman approaching quickly. Vhalla saw genuine concern in Larel’s eyes. It was tempered with a look at Fritz, noting that Vhalla had not been alone.

“How do you feel?” Larel asked, inspecting her bandages.

“I’m fine.” Vhalla braved a smile and was surprised to find her face still moved as she expected it to.

“She’s better than fine!” Fritz clasped a hand over her shoulder, and Vhalla grimaced as it shot sharp pain down her arm. “Look, Larel, the Tower’s first Windwalker broke a bulb!”

“Really?” Larel half stepped around Fritz to inspect Vhalla’s accomplishment, if it could be called that. “Do you feel fine?”

“I do.” Vhalla nodded, rubbing her shoulder where Fritz had given her his painful version of encouragement. “Well, other than the obvious.”

“You need more potion.” Larel nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell the minister about your success and then we’ll get you food and medicine.”

“Come visit me again, okay?” Fritz asked hopefully.

Vhalla fidgeted with the bandages on her hands and fingers. She did not want to go back to that lonely room just yet. Things had been feeling normal, a strange and different normal, but normal nonetheless.

“Can I eat with both of you?” Vhalla asked timidly.

“Of course you can!” Fritz bounced. Larel had a small and knowing smile, but spared any comment and simply nodded.

Vhalla sat next to Fritz in the Tower’s dining hall. She was surprised to find that they had their own kitchens, and the apprentices took turns cooking. Fritz explained that, as a result, they got to try all kinds of food from the different regions of the continent.

The strawberries hadn’t been a fluke. Not only was the variety apparently better, but the quality of the food was as well. The meat was fresh, and it was actual cuts. Not the reject pieces, riddled with chewy fat and tendons, that she would get in the normal servants’ and apprentices’ dining hall. The vegetables were so fresh they still had a crunch. Vhalla felt cheated.

Larel noticed her disapproving stare within moments, and Vhalla wondered if the power to read minds was part of a Firebearer’s Affinity as Larel found herself quickly explaining the cause of the differing food system.

There was a saying that Vhalla had heard before: The Tower takes care of its own.