Uncontrolled

The wind rustles gently through the empty field, disturbing only the blades of grass and the two figures standing within. I can't believe I've found myself in this situation. After all the destruction caused, here we stand, me and Lysandra, trying to figure out the mess that is her life.

She's sprawled on the ground, lazy as ever. "You nearly killed seven people on our way here," I say, tone dripping with irritation. Seriously, this woman.

"I don't do it on purpose, Kael," she whines, rolling her eyes. Honestly, it's like dealing with a child. A very powerful, dangerous baby lizard.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. "Alright, Lysandra. We need to get this shit under control."

Lysandra emits a dramatic sigh, stretching herself out on the grass like she's at a picnic and not in the middle of a magical crisis. "You think I'm doing it because I want to?" she snaps, glaring up at me.

This is going to be a long day.

"Your affinities," I begin, trying to approach the subject with tact, "they seem to be...competing? Is that the right word?" I'm going to speak to her in child terms or her brain will overheat. 

She rolls over onto her back with a groan, her crimson hair catching the sun's rays. "They're fighting for control over me. It's soooo annoying." As she speaks, her hair shifts to a pristine white, and before I can even blink, a massive icicle goes flying, embedding itself into a distant tree.

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, that was showy."

She shrugs, exasperated. "My dad never taught me anything," she admits, pouting. "I have no idea how to control it. And human methods? Pfft. Not gonna work."

I roll my eyes. Her dad's ineptitude isn't exactly a surprise. But was it truly him not teaching, or her not listening? "Your dad sounds useless," I comment dryly.

She snorts, "Understatement of the year."

Okay, time to think. I might not know dragon magic, but I do know how dragons use magic. Maybe there's a workaround. "Come on, they don't control you," I reason, hoping to strike a chord. "Why are you letting your affinities do as they please?"

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my attempt at a pep talk. "Easy for you to say," she mutters, pushing herself up to sit. "You have no idea how dragons work. It's different."

That might be true, but I won't be deterred. "Maybe not, but I do know magic.

The wind continues to whip around us, rustling the tall grass as I approach her. She watches me, eyes glowing a shade of intense fiery red. Her hair's shimmering in a similar hue, which means she's about to snap. Perfect timing, as always.

I sit down in front of her, matching her gaze, trying to maintain a facade of composure. "So, how does it work?" I ask, genuinely curious.

She stares at me incredulously. "Are you serious? After everything, you just...sit in front of me?"

I smirk, "Look, we're stuck together, whether you like it or not. And I'm not about to let you accidentally turn people into ice sculptures or roast them alive. So, spill."

She clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed, but her hair ignites even brighter. "Aww, aren't you scared? Not backing away?"

I laugh, the sound echoing across the field. "Hahaha! If I got cold feet over something like this, Darius wouldn't have left you in my 'capable' hands." And with the equipment Eira made, along with Umbra on my side, especially under this dark canopy, I should be more than equipped. Let her try something, I think defiantly.

As if on cue, she releases a torrent of flames, engulfing the immediate area. The dark glove on my hand, Umbra, pulsates and absorbs the entirety of the fire. I knew it, I think, smugly. She sits there, looking somewhat dumbfounded. Hehehe, Umbra can't absorb magic... but this isn't magic. This is her natural mana being released with the added fire or ice affinity. 

"So, what now?" she asks, her defiant posture slightly deflated.

I stroke my chin, thinking. "Humans, and a lot of other species for that matter, have a mana core. We circulate and harness energy. But dragons? You have a dragon heart, right?"

She yawns, stretching like a lazy cat. "Yep. While you all fuss with mana circulation and rituals, we dragons just let our hearts do the heavy lifting. Fun games, but unnecessary for us."

I nod. "But if your heart does all the magic mumbo-jumbo, why are your affinities throwing a tantrum? Shouldn't your heart regulate that?"

She buries her face in her hands, groaning. "I don't know, for fuck's sake!" She then lays back, staring at the night sky. "I have to choose which affinity to keep...but I want both of them."

So that's the root of the problem. The fire, a symbol of her mother, and the ice, of her father. She doesn't want to forsake either parent. What a sentimental dragon, I muse. "Look, I can probably give you a temporary fix. But it's going to be one hell of a ride."

Her eyes narrow, considering. "What kind of ride?"

I heave a heavy sigh and carefully remove Umbra from my hand. It momentarily resizes, adjusting for Lysandra's proportions. Damn it, I think, my once concealed tattoo now exposed. It's something I've always hidden carefully. I quickly dig through my bag, pulling out a regular glove and slipping it on to cover the mark. I don't need more questions tonight.

I hold up Umbra, catching Lysandra's attention. "You recognize this, don't you?"

Lysandra's gaze switches between the glove and me, her eyes narrowing. "Yeah, that's the artifact you're always toting around. You once said it's a sword, but I've yet to see that version."

I chuckle, amused. "How many people do you think are aware of this, aside from you?"

She scrunches her face, lost in thought. It's almost endearing to see her work her brain so hard. "Uhh...three?"

I nod, grinning. "Close but not quite. And for your information, I have shown it to you as a sword." On cue, Umbra morphs into an academy-training dull sword, the hilt adorned with intricate designs.

She blinks, obviously surprised. "It can change colors?"

Without answering, I morph Umbra back to its glove form and approach her. "Stop resisting," I say tersely, shoving it onto her hand. Honestly, everything is a struggle with her.

She scowls at it. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head as her veins bulge slightly. "Hey," I snap, a bit exasperated, "You can't morph it, so just stop trying."

She mumbles under her breath, clearly disgruntled, "I just wanted it to match my hair."

Rolling my eyes, I change the glove's color to match her fiery orange-red mane. "Happy now?"

She glares at me but doesn't reply.

I lean closer, making sure I have her full attention. "Listen closely. Whenever you feel one of your...episodes coming on, direct all the mana to the glove. It can handle the absorption without any hitches. Got it?"

She smirks, mischief glinting in her eyes. "So, what you're saying is, I can blast as much as I want, and it won't explode or something?"

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "That's one way to put it, yes."

She smirks wider, and I can already predict the upcoming headaches. But for now, at least we've found a temporary solution.

"And remember," I add sternly, "this is temporary. We're finding you a more permanent solution, whether you like it or not."

She sticks her tongue out at me. Does she like it that much? Tsk, I know Ilka is going to be mad but... I can train without her pestering me for a couple days. 

★  ★  ★  ★  ★

The cafeteria of Class B is bathed in the warm glow of afternoon light, punctuated by the sounds of clinking cutlery and soft conversations. At one of the larger tables, tension simmers between three of the academy's most talented students: Luna, Mira, and Zara. They sit in an uneasy triangle, the aftermath of some form of confrontation evident in their demeanor. The recent rankings put them in the top twenty new students. 

Mira slams her hands down onto the table with force, causing the dishes to jump slightly. "Dammit, both of you! That wasn't fair, you both worked against me!"

Luna pushes her hair back, her expression bordering on smug. She drawls, "You can't blame us, Mira, you move like water. It's so difficult to hit you now after you started learning that technique." There's a hint of admiration, but it's overshadowed by frustration. The mental image of Mira's agile moves, akin to liquid silver, avoiding Luna's arrows replays in her mind. 'Seriously, she practically bent around my arrows.'

Zara leans forward with a smirk. Copying Luna's gesture, she says, "Mira, you were too good. Since neither of us could win against you one-on-one, we worked together. That's fair play, right?" She's clearly poking fun, yet there's genuine respect in her tone, especially when she thinks, 'Hahaha, the second stage of her family's magic arts is incredible.'

But Mira is having none of it. Her fiery glare jumps between Luna and Zara, her frustration mounting. She clicks her tongue in annoyance, taking large bites of her food as if that could quell her ire. But it's too much, and she finally bursts, "How is that fair play!?"

★  ★  ★

-Aira's POV

The door swings open with a silent grace, and I step into Class B's cafeteria. The atmosphere instantly changes as my presence registers in the room. It's a mixture of respect, admiration, and a slight hint of intimidation. But I wear a pleasant smile, the very embodiment of diplomacy.

Drawing near the table where Luna, Mira, and Zara sit, I ask politely, "May I?" My gaze sweeps over them, resting momentarily on Zara. Who convinced her to leave? Liam's influence is unlikely; he hardly has the finesse to manage something like this. My offer to Zara was tailored just for her, and she seemed inclined initially. Could someone else have interrupted my plans? I remember the recording crystals I planted, and the inexplicable interference that rendered them useless for an entire day. Who had the power to do that?

Luna's voice pulls me back from my thoughts. She offers a genuine smile, her lips curling up in a gentle curve. "Please take a seat, what brings you here, Aira?"

Mira's response is sharper, less welcoming, her eyes rolling almost theatrically. "Welcome to our cafeteria, Miss Princess. Would you like us to bow down?" The barb in her tone isn't surprising. The memory of my mother making her father kneel for some trivial matter still lingers. I can't fault her for the resentment, but this isn't the place or time to address old grievances. Mother never gave an official reason and her father never spoke a word about it. Its not something I can say a word in, however, it is a shame such a warrior resents the royal family. 

I maintain my pleasant demeanor, replying with genuine warmth. "No, please don't, we're all equal here."

Zara, ever the peacemaker, jumps in with a serene smile, her voice soft yet clear. "I know why you're here. I'll gladly explain, but please, let's get you something to eat while we talk." Her words are a balm to the rising tension in the room. 

I reach into my pouch, unveiling a collection of finely crafted tea packets and an assortment of delicately made snacks. Their fragrance fills the air, mingling with the scent of the foods already on the table. I place them neatly before the trio, the gesture intended as both a peace offering and a way to bridge the gap that seems to have formed between Zara and myself.

"Would anyone care for some tea?" I ask with a smile, extending my hand to offer the delicacies.

Luna looks visibly intrigued by the selection. She picks up a packet, studying it before nodding in approval. Mira, still trying to mask her resentment, hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out to take a snack, her curiosity winning over.

It's Zara's response I'm most eager for, and she doesn't disappoint. Her eyes soften as they land on a particular type of tea, one I remember she favored during our previous encounters. It seems our tastes still align, even if our current paths might not.

Taking a deep breath, I fix my gaze on her, choosing my words carefully. "Zara," I begin, my tone gentle but firm, "I believed my offer was tailored to suit you perfectly. What changed your mind?"