The sun was already climbing high when I stepped outside. The air smelled of damp earth and morning dew, and a light breeze brushed against my skin. My body still felt a bit sore, but nothing like before — the herbs Lira gave me were truly powerful.
I saw her a few feet away, arranging stones in a neat circle on the ground. Her long hair was tied up, and the morning light made her look almost otherworldly. She turned when she heard my footsteps and smiled.
"Good, you’re ready," she said. "Did you eat well?"
"Yes," I said, walking closer. "And I’m feeling much better. Thank you."
"That’s good," she replied, standing and dusting her hands. "Because today, we’re going to start training your mind."
"My mind?" I repeated, frowning slightly. "I thought we’d be working on shifting again."
She shook her head gently. "No. Before you can truly master your wolf or your magic, you must learn to control your mind. That’s where all power begins — here." She tapped her temple with one finger.
I blinked, unsure what to say. "I don’t really understand."
"You will," Lira said with a patient smile. She picked up one of the smooth stones and placed it in front of me. "Sit."
I sat cross-legged on the ground, facing her. The air around us felt still, heavy with focus.
She sat opposite me and placed another stone before herself. "Lisa, magic isn’t just about chants or spells," she began. "It’s about control — the ability to reach within, to touch the invisible thread that connects you to everything. Witches can move, heal, or destroy things with their minds because we understand that connection."
I listened carefully, trying to absorb every word.
"You have that power," she continued. "But it has been silent because your wolf and witch are dormant. The wolf acts. The witch thinks. You must learn balance."
I nodded slowly. "So... how do I start?"
Lira smiled faintly and gestured toward the stone. "You start by making that move."
I blinked at her. "Move? You mean with my hand?"
She chuckled softly. "No. With your mind."
I stared at her for a moment, unsure whether she was serious. "You’re joking, right? That’s impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," she said calmly. "Close your eyes."
I hesitated but did as she said.
"Now, breathe," she said softly. "Deeply. Slowly. Forget everything around you — the wind, the sound of birds, even me. There is only you and the stone."
Her voice was calm, steady, almost like a lullaby.
"Imagine the stone," she whispered. "See it in your mind. Feel it. It is not separate from you. The same energy that lives in you lives in it."
I breathed in and out, trying to picture the small gray stone in my head.
"Now," Lira said quietly, "call it. Don’t force it. Don’t command it. Just call it, as though calling a friend."
I frowned slightly, feeling foolish. "Lira, I—"
"Don’t speak," she interrupted gently. "Just try."
I swallowed and focused again. I imagined the stone, small and cold. I tried to feel something, anything. My mind strained, but nothing happened. It just sat there — a stupid, lifeless rock.
Minutes passed, or maybe longer. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My hands tightened on my knees. I tried again, this time harder, thinking move, move, move!
The stone didn’t even tremble.
Finally, I opened my eyes and sighed in frustration. "It’s not working. I told you this is impossible."
Lira smiled softly, not the least bit surprised. "No, you told yourself it’s impossible. That’s why it won’t listen."
I frowned. "It’s a stone. It can’t listen."
She leaned forward slightly. "Everything listens, Lisa. The wind listens. The earth listens. Even pain listens. You only need to speak its language."
I looked down, embarrassed. "Maybe I just don’t have the gift."
She chuckled gently. "You have it, my dear. You simply don’t trust it yet."
I stayed quiet, staring at the ground. Lira stood and walked behind me, placing her hands lightly on my shoulders. Her touch was warm and steady.
I swallowed hard. "I don’t even know how."
"Yes, you do," she said. "You’ve done it before — maybe not with stones, but with people, with feelings, with pain. Magic isn’t always seen. It’s felt. You’ve felt it when you were angry, when you were afraid, when you wanted to protect someone. That was your witch calling out."
Her words stirred something inside me — a memory of the first time I shifted, the way my blood had boiled, how the air around me had seemed alive.
"Now," she said softly, returning to her spot. "Try again."
I took a deep breath. My heart was racing, but I closed my eyes again.
"Don’t think about the stone this time," she said. "Think about the energy inside you. Feel it move through your body — from your heart, to your arms, to your fingertips. Let it flow."
I focused on my breathing. I imagined the air moving through me, slow and steady, like a soft current. I imagined it gathering in my chest, a warm light spreading outward.
"Good," she murmured. "Now let that light touch the stone."
In my mind, I saw the light stretch like a thread, reaching toward the little stone. It felt strange, unreal — but also peaceful.
The air shifted slightly around me.
For a moment, I thought I imagined it. But then I heard Lira’s quiet gasp.
"Don’t stop," she whispered. "You’re close." Check latest chapters at NoveIꜰire.net
My breath quickened. I reached deeper inside myself, trying to hold onto that thread — but fear crept in. What if I can’t control it? What if it breaks something?
The connection faltered.
I opened my eyes just as the stone rolled an inch and stopped.
It wasn’t much, but my heart jumped in my chest. "Did I—did that just happen?"
Lira smiled, her eyes shining. "Yes, you did that."
I stared at the tiny movement, still in disbelief. "It barely moved."
"Barely is enough," she said gently. "The earth answered you. It’s a beginning."
I exhaled shakily. "It felt... strange. Like something inside me woke up for a second."
She nodded. "That’s your witch side. She’s shy, but she’s there."
I smiled faintly, pride mixing with awe. "I actually did it."
"You did," Lira said, standing up and dusting her hands. "And now you’ll do it again."
I groaned, leaning back on my hands. "Already? You’re not even going to let me celebrate a little?"
Lira laughed. "Celebration comes after mastery, not after a single victory."
I pouted, telling her that I needed a break.
"You don’t need a break, child,"