LAYLA CONCENTRATED ON THE rocks, trying to make them move. She had been at it for hours with no luck. Yesterday she had been trying to make water move. Nothing had happened. Layla’s frustration was growing and Dralazar could feel it.
“What do you feel?” Dralazar asked.
“Nothing,” Layla practically shouted. “You keep asking me that and I don’t feel anything. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t know what you want me to feel.”
“I want you to feel the magic responding to your desire.” Dralazar spoke far too evenly, a forced patience he had to employ quite frequently since Layla had arrived. In all these years he had never taken the time to train anybody. Then again, he had never been handed the sister of the Solus on a silver platter. “I want you to find that magic in the pit of your stomach, a reservoir to pull from, to transfer your will into reality. Kiora learned how to do it.”
Layla’s head jerked at the mention of her sister’s name. “She already knew how.”
“No! She didn’t. She had visions, dreams. It is a gift, but it is not magic. Would you like to know how I know?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his eyes tightening. “I had been looking for the Solus, watching for any magical threads. Had I sensed one, even the tiniest amount of potential in the village—” He wrapped his finger around a lock of Layla’s hair before letting it slide free. “I would have come through your front door in the middle of the night and killed her in her bed.”
Layla’s eyes grew round. “This is not working,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Dralazar could tell by the slump of her shoulders that she had given up. His patience finally snapped. Perhaps survival would be enough motivation. He took three large steps back. Flinging out his good hand, he spewed forth fire. The flames landed to the side of Layla before flaring higher and racing around her, quickly enclosing her within a circle of fire.
“What are you doing?” Layla screamed, turning in a panicked circle.
Dralazar looked calmly over the flames to her beautiful, terrified face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Control the fire, Layla. If you don’t, it will kill you.”
“Dralazar, help me.” Layla backed up, screaming as the flames licked at her legs and back. There was nowhere to go.
“Help yourself,” Dralazar said, tilting his head to the side. “How can we expect to beat Kiora without you discovering your magic?”
Layla started to whimper, sweat poured down her face. “It hurts.”
Dralazar took a step towards the death trap. “No!” he said. “No fear! Anger. Feel the anger. Anger will feed your magic.” Dralazar made his way around the circle, Layla’s fearful eyes following him. “I think you have forgotten why you are here in the first place. This is Kiora’s fault.” Dralazar pushed at her, searching for the rage he knew was in there. “The war, the training. Your home is gone because of her, your friends are dead because of her. Push back the fire, Layla.”
Layla screamed in pain as the flames grew higher. Then he saw a flicker in her eyes that he thrived on. There it is, Dralazar thought. The anger.
With a yell Layla pushed her magic out. The fire flickered and shrunk before her. Layla’s eyes widened, her chest heaving with a chocked sound of relief, but Dralazar had no mercy. He called the fire back to its full size.
“More,” he shouted. “Feel the hate, use it, push back the fire.”
Layla opened up the reservoir of feelings he knew lay within her, screaming as she pushed the fire back further and further.
“It’s not enough,” he yelled. “Extinguish it.”
Layla threw her head back, yelling to the sky as she shoved her hands out and down, forcing the fire into the ground. The only thing left was a smoldering black ring.
“Very good,” Dralazar said, crossing his arms in front of him.
Layla’s eyes scanned the charred ring before slowly meeting Dralazar’s gaze. Black streaks ran down her reddened face. “You were going to let it kill me, weren’t you?”
Dralazar walked smoothly over to his prey. “Layla, my Queen, why would I hurt you?”
“I could see it in your eyes.” Her voice trembled, a mix of fear and anger. “If I couldn’t control this, you were going to let me burn.”
Dralazar reached out a finger, running it down the side of her face.