Page 180 of Emylia

I’d given it to him. Freely.

Without hesitation or regret.

It had always been his.

And now he had it—a piece of me no one else would ever be able to take. A part of me that wasours.

“Nervous,” I admitted, voice thin.

He grinned. “That you’ll drown us all if you lose control?”

My heart thundered. Great. I hadn’t even considered that. I was panicking about failing to control the water—he’d just casually introduced the concept of mass watery death.

Fantastic.

Maalikai must’ve seen the flicker of panic in my eyes, because he added coolly, “you’ll do fine. Just be your perfect self.”

“I heard drowning’s the most peaceful way to go,” Sebastian offered. “So, you know... there’s always that.”

I glared at one of the guys who had stolen my heart. “Not helping, Bastian.”

He shrugged like it was a perfectly reasonable contribution. “Just trying to be supportive.”

“Sure you are.”

Maalikai cut in, his voice low and clipped. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and give her some space.”

Sebastian smirked. “Looks like you’re the only one in danger of drowning, then.”

I rolled my eyes. There was no calming the storm that was Sebastian.

“Emylia,” my mother called gently, “ignore them. Focus on me.”

I nodded, dragging my gaze away from Sebastian, who had flopped down near the edge of the lake—his boots haphazardly kicked off beside him, feet dangling in the crystal-clear water. Ripples curved outward from where his toes broke the surface, like even now, he couldn’t help but stir up everything he touched.

And then there was Maalikai, who had retreated in the opposite direction. He was leaning against a tree—watching with an unreadable expression, his brow slightly furrowed in a way that felt almost tender compared to his usual stormy glower.

“What you need to do,” my mother continued, “is listen. The water is alive. It breathes. It moves. Let yourself feel it. The ebb and flow. The rhythm it follows—the way it waits for your command.”

I closed my eyes.

The wind hushed.

The lake exhaled.

And somewhere deep inside me, something stirred in response.

My mother’s voice curled around me, quiet and steady. “Breathe, Emylia. You’re not bending it to your will. You’re asking it to listen.”

Easier said than done.

Taking another deep breath, I opened my eyes and focused on the water in front of me, hoping the visual anchor would help unlock something deeper.

The lake shimmered like liquid glass, wind catching its surface in subtle, rippling shivers.

I extended my hand, fingers trembling—not from fear, but from the overwhelming hum of potential threading beneath my skin. Like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if I would rise… or unravel.

“Do you feel how the water calls to you?” my mother said softly. “Like it recognizes the power you have over it. Waiting until you whisper a command?”

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