The master placed the rose atop his cane, and its stem grew downward, forming roots that dug into the wood. He gestured at another floating lily, and this time, the water flew in response. Spinning, the liquid formed an undulating ribbon that spiraled around him, like strings caught in a twister.

  Thin streams coiled around his arms, legs, and fingers, forming bracelets, anklets, and rings. He assumed a relaxed stance: legs wide, one hand extended with the wand, the other held level behind him. Slowly he moved, the water trailing a second behind him like a clingy child.

  Not a movement went unanswered, not a twitch of his fingers ignored. Even his blinks seemed purposeful. When he crouched, the water chased, and when he turned as if to snub the water, it darted after him, begging for attention. It sped as he did, decelerated as he slowed. The performance he gave wasn’t channeling, it was a dance, and the water was his willing partner.

  Never had Skye witnessed something this beautiful, this enchanting. No channeler in Troqua had ever displayed such fine levels of control. If throughout his life he acquired one tenth of the master’s skill, it’d be an achievement.

  “Water is adaptability,” the master said, his movements fluid and unbroken. “Its nature is to flow. And wherever it flows, life flourishes.” He shaped the water into a sphere above his palm, then into a bird that beat its wings. “Water can adapt to any form or situation.”

  The bird transformed into a cat licking its paw, then a fish gliding serenely. With a flurry of hands, he spun, and the water became a school of tiny fish darting around him. One dropped onto a flat rock, splashing feebly, followed by another, and then more.

  “It may seem weak at first. But when it sets its mind to a goal, nothing can stand in its way.”

  With a sharp thrust of his wand, the fish shot forward, striking the rock in a concentrated line, cracking it, forming a hole at its center.

  He leaned forward, his palms joining around the wand. The water surged, firing like a sunbeam concentrated through a magnifying glass. It carved a narrow trench through the garden, leaving a deep groove in the earth.

  Skye gasped, stumbling backward, his breath quick and shallow. Sweat dripped down his temples as he stared at the ditch, barely inches from where he’d fallen.

  “You will never be this good,” Redeyes said beside him.

  The master turned to the lily, drawing water once more until it barely had any. “I’d like to guide you through all the denominations, but the randomness of your curse, and the threat of the rogue wardens, hound our time.”

  He resumed his dancing ritual, hands and water flowing about him. “I suggest we start with the element that will help you achieve your immediate goal of saving your city. Once that’s done, you can return to resume your training and explore other elements.”

  Skye frowned. “Only one denomination?”

  “Barely a denomination,” Luccello corrected. “You’ll learn just enough to get by.”

  Skye lowered his head. He had watched children train in the academy, seen wardens fight, but none of them compared to the master’s skill. Void, even the elexii lacked such fine control over their elements. And with his limited timeframe, he had to agree they were right.

  He had to focus on one element. And hope his curse didn’t activate in the meantime.

  “Would you like to start with Aqua fantasia?” the master asked, his water ribbons swirling around him.

  “No. Tidebreakers don’t excel at anything like the other elements. Not at mobility, offense, or defense. And they’re useless without a water source.”

  “Untrue on all counts,” Master Ku said. “Channeling is a blend of skill and imagination. A well-trained tidebreaker can control a battlefield all on their own. Also, some floral astra can create water.”

  He pointed to the lily, its watery sphere fully replenished as if it hadn’t been drained moments ago.

  “Take your time,” the master continued. “Watch the demonstration, then decide.”

  With a graceful flourish, the master sent the ribbons of water into the pot, then magically grafted both plucked orchids back onto their bush. He turned to a second pot, channeling into a buried seed until a cluster of stone-hard cacti with needle-sharp spines burst forth.

  As he reached for the flowers atop the cacti, the needles shot out at him with startling speed. Luccello intervened, conjuring a radiant shield of light to block the attack. The ground beneath the pot trembled, nearly knocking the master off balance as he plucked two brown blossoms.

  “Hill Raiser,” the master said, handing one bloom to Skye. It was heavy, its sharp rock petals clinking together with every movement. Fixing the flower to his wand, the master began a new dance.

  “Earth is stability,” he declared, his voice steady. His stance was lower, his fists clenched, muscles taut as if pushing a boulder. A sudden stomp sent tremors through the ground, and another summoned rocks into the air, circling him like moons orbiting Inma.

  “It is unyielding, dependable, and the measure by which the strength of all other elements is judged.”

  He punched the hard stones with his bare knuckles, sending them flying to the far end of the garden, where they exploded in clouds of dirt and dust. Spikes shot from the ground as he stomped forward, racing toward Skye, rising to half his height, and sharp enough to pierce metal. Skye yelped, dodging away with Rico.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “A stonemason is a cannon, saboteur, and fortress all at once.” The master leaped high, then smashed his fist into the earth. A massive column of stone rose beneath them, carrying everyone toward the greenhouse ceiling. When it came crashing down fast, Skye’s heart skipped a beat as if time had paused.

  The master landed effortlessly, his movements precise, his breathing steady. Skye, struggling to find his footing, stared in disbelief. He could hardly reconcile this display of strength and agility with the feeble, slow elder he’d met yesterday.

  When the master joined a fist to a palm, the ground flattened all around, as if nothing had happened.

  Skye clutched his chest, trying to steady his breath, but he couldn’t suppress a grin as the master extended a dirt-covered hand to help him up. He thought of Basalt’s feats in the Deeps and the devastation he’d wrought. The master’s control and prowess, however, were leagues beyond anything he’d witnessed.

  “Would you like to learn Geo fantasia?” Master Ku asked.

  “YES!” Rico shouted eagerly. “I do! I do!”

  “You’re already a stonemason, Rico,” Luccello said, landing on a branch nearby. “Well, more of a crusher than a mason. If you want to improve, spend more time training and less playing.”

  Rico frowned but said nothing.

  “I do want to become a stonemason,” Skye said hesitantly, “but I don’t think it’ll help me much right now. I won’t get strong enough to fight an elexos in time. And stonemasons make lots of noise when they travel.”

  “Again, it is a matter of competence and expertise, not element,” the master replied. “Let’s continue.”

  The next shrub the master conjured had yellow-orange leaves and vivid red roses. “These are Hot Passions,” he said, plucking a rose and handing it to Skye. It was hot as a pyrpphire.

  The master inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, a storm of fire raged from his mouth, churning like a leashed beast. The garden lit up, the intense heat forcing Skye a step back, his breath caught in his throat. All the firedancers he’d seen before seemed tame by comparison, their fires cold, even the blazing fury of the elexii.

  When the master stopped, the fireball lingered in the air above him like a second sun.

  “Fire is passion,” the master intoned, furious as if he intended to attack Skye. He twisted the sun into a ribbon of flames, spinning it around himself. “It breathes. It wants. It hungers and consumes.”

  His movements sharpened, his posture predatory, like a wolf on the hunt. With a swift kick, he slashed an arc of flame through the air, bathing the world in orange. Another spin brought yellow fire, hotter and fiercer, while an elbow strike summoned blue flames, tinged with purple and eerily cold. However he moved, whichever way he turned, a burning afterimage trailed after him like a flaming wraith.

  “Without control, the fire’s will may overwhelm its channeler.” The master’s ring of flames expanded, forcing Skye and the birds to retreat further. “But by understanding its nature, a firedancer reaches the zenith of power.”

  Calling forth the flames, he condensed them into a white-hot ball, sizzling between his hands. It glided away when he released it, heading towards Skye. Halfway there, it burst in a brilliant flash, its warmth gentler than expected, akin to a comforting hearth.

  “Would you like to learn Pyro fantasia?” the master asked.

  Skye’s heart screamed yes, but a worry held him back. “Do you think I could learn to fly with fire in time?”

  In response, the master placed his wand in his mouth, then set his palms beside him. Sparks shot from his hands then erupted into flames, levitating him off the ground. Slowly, he smothered the fires, and landed softly.

  “You don’t fly with flames, you shoot forward,” the master explained. “It’s an advanced skill few firedancers achieve in their lifetimes.”

  “You want to fly with fire?” Redeyes scoffed. “Who do you think you are, Akunai Kasi?”

  Skye bit his lip and shook his head. “Let’s move on.” One day, he’d become a proficient firedancer, but not today.

  The master turned to the final pot, drawing forth two silvery irises. He fastened one to his wand, and the air around them stirred to life. Wild winds swirled through the garden, tossing leaves and throwing Skye’s hair into his face.

  “Wind is freedom,” the master said, his voice light as the breeze. His steps grew weightless, as though the air carried him. “It flows without care for the world around it, going wherever it wishes.”

  He stepped back, letting the wind shove him, seemingly surrendering to its will. “A mere gust might ruffle a leaf or blow a kiss across a field. But together, gales grow into a flurry, and flurries become a typhoon.”

  With a sudden pivot, a storm rose in the greenhouse, forcing Skye to cling to Rico, who grew larger, anchoring himself with massive talons. Luccello watched atop a swaying branch, a shield of light protecting him.

  The master relaxed, and so did the tempest. Whirling his hands casually like a swimmer in calm waters, whirlwinds formed underneath him, lifting him gently into the air.

  “Would you like to learn Aero fantasia?” he asked Skye.

  Freedom. That’s what Skye sought the most. To travel, to soar where nothing could hold him back. Windriders were fast, excelling at scouting and evasion, skills he sorely needed. But the memory of how the aeroxii had savaged the caravan held him back.

  What would he do if they detected him? Could he survive their onslaught?

  His bell materialized beside him, providing the answer.

  “Windrider,” Skye said without doubt. “That’s what I’ll start with.”

  “Excellent choice,” Master Ku said, settling down. “I’d wanted to recommend it, but I wanted you to make the decision. This silver iris is called the Breath of the Mountain. You may merge with it now.”

  Skye brushed a few iridescent feathers from his fingers, remnants from clinging to Rico earlier. Taking a steadying breath, he channeled, letting the short stem of the flower sink into the back of his hand, down to the soft leaves. The voice of a woman singing in a large enclosed chamber echoed in his mind as they merged. The whole experience left him light-headed and tired, as though he’d been running for an hour.

  “First, we’ll have you charge properly,” Master Ku said, turning away. “Follow me.”

  They exited the garden to stand under the clear blue sky.

  “Luccello, if you please,” the master said.

  The alabaster ruff swooped down to perch on Skye’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” the bird instructed as light shimmered beneath Skye, solidifying into a platform.

  When it shuddered and started rising, Skye’s stomach flipped as he struggled to maintain his balance. The air grew colder, the rush of wind tousling his hair and nipping at his skin. Below, the master looked no larger than an ant.

  He hugged himself against the chill, watching the forest unfold beneath him, an endless emerald sea. He saw the glinting lake, the serpentine river, and even the faint outline of Solarite’s concealed walls in the distance.

  “What will we do up here?” he shouted, his voice nearly swallowed by the roaring winds.

  “Just relax. You don’t have to do anything,” Luccello yelled back.

  “Aren’t there monsters around?” Skye asked, scanning the clouds. Dozens of books he’d read warned against flying above the Smaragdine Forest as the sky was the dominion of the aeroxii and other, more violent elexii.

  “We won’t stay long,” Luccello assured him. “You’ll begin charging now.”

  “How?” Skye demanded, nerves fraying.

  “The best method to charge aero fantasia is to feel air rush toward you while you are utterly helpless, which is ideally achieved during freefall.”

  “Freefall?!” Skye shrieked, voice cracking with horror.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

  The light platform evaporated, and Skye screamed as he hurtled toward the ground.

  ?????Days until Green Eve: 19?????