Page 194 of Emylia

I grounded my feet, bracing. Then I pushed harder, reaching deeper into the soil, drawing power and surging it forward. The thread linking me to the earth flared—brighter, stronger—transcending into something more.

From somewhere in the distance, a boulder cracked. The sound ricocheted through the clearing like something ancient had split wide open, the ground shuddering from impact.

“Emylia. Reign it in.”

I tried to pull the magik back. To snap the connection. But it wouldn’t sever. Wouldn’t break.

“I… I can’t.”

“Shit.” Sebastian’s voice was louder now—closer. Protective.

The ground split open again, but this time it was destructive, gaping wounds inside the earth. Before I could mutter my shock, jagged spires of rock speared out of the ground. Cataclysmic, destructive, like they were out for retribution—like my power had evoked a long-forgotten wrath.

Panic seized me, the remainder of my control crumbling. A scream echoed, as Maalikai knocked my mother to the ground, a spire of destruction so close that if he hadn’t intervened she would’ve been impaled.

“Move back!” I shouted. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And then—I lost all control.

A tree groaned nearby.

Bark splintered.

The vines lashed out.

“Em—”

Sebastian stepped forward, voice sharp, heat radiating as he closed the distance between us.

“No. Get back.” My voice broke, afraid that I would inadvertently hurt him.

I wouldn’t survive that.

“I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

His fingers found mine. The warmth of his skin, the smell of him—earth and fire—curled around me.

Centered me.

“You’ve got this. Just focus on what calms you. Focus on me.”

The weight of his hand was perfect in mine—like it had always belonged there. Like he was claiming a part of my soul he’d always held.

My heart steadied, its rhythm syncing to his.

“Remember when we were first learning to shoot?” His voice was low behind me. “We used to rush the shot. But after a while, we began to slow down. To feel the rhythm of the forest.”

He was right behind me now—his chest against my back. His hands slid up and down my arms in slow, soothing strokes. My head fell back into the curve of his shoulder.

And the vines stilled, waiting for something.

Waiting for me.

“That’s it. You’ve got this.”

His hand shadowed my stomach, the brush of his fingers snapping my insides taut, coiling me so tightly it was hard to breathe.

“Don’t second-guess yourself. Don’t second-guess your power. This is yours to command—a rightful gift that just needs you to claim it. To tell it you’re not afraid of it. Of what it makes you.”

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