It took Mahya and Al another full day to clear the city from above. While they focused on that, I drifted in the lake, staring at the sky. I wasn’t doing anything particularly useful; I was just... there. Adrift. Both in body and mind.
My head was a complete mess. And not the sort I could untangle with a brisk walk. It was the kind of mess where thoughts collided, twisted around each other, and frayed at the edges, leaving me with nothing solid to hold on to. There weren’t even proper thoughts forming—just disjointed fragments smashing together like billiard balls.
Clouds drifted slowly above me, pale streaks across an endless blue canvas, while I floated below, bobbing gently on the lake’s surface. The water crests shifted with Rue’s jet ski circling nearby, sending ripples that nudged me in random directions.
Hunger. Debasing obsequiousness. The scenes swirled in my mind, thorns stabbing my psyche. Fire blazing—fire and control. Threatening to consume everything. Choking guilt. The fear of losing control again. Reflections on the nature of friendship. Teaching savages to use fire. Fire is dangerous. Acid dungeon. Bodies strewn outside the palace. Cruelty. Slavery. Trust and betrayal. Flying sword. Al is an athletic bastard. I envied that. Flying for days on end in the balloon. It all tangled together with the drifting clouds above and the steady, rhythmic bobbing of the waves.
My chest tightened. Sorting through the chaos was impossible; each thought slipped away before I could catch it. Images blurred—faces, places, moments of pain, sadness, and rage—until I wasn’t sure if I was still looking at the sky or trapped in my mind’s relentless storm. Everything felt too loud and too quiet all at once. I could hear Rue’s occasional splashes and joyful barks, but they sounded far away, like echoes from another world.
My experiences shaped me, revealing truths about myself I hadn't known. But they also frightened me. I never realized I was that impressionable, that the things I saw could leave such a lasting mark. I'd never considered myself particularly empathetic. Sure, I enjoyed helping others—it made me feel valuable, gave me a sense of worth. But to the extent that failing to help would leave scars? I hadn’t thought it was possible.
I remembered a sentence from Sunday school that one of my foster parents sent me to: “Physician, heal thyself.” Well, in my case, ‘Healer, heal thyself.’ The thought clicked, and I almost drowned. I broke the water’s surface, spluttering and coughing up half the lake, and facepalmed.
Well, actually, all those wizards who wrote those annoying books about the elements were idiots too. They kept harping on about how water represented fluidity, letting go, going with the flow, being mellow and accepting, and on and on in the same vein. But first and foremost, water is LIFE. Nothing can survive without water!
Borrowing from that concept, water is healing—mending, invigorating, nurturing, and soothing. That’s what water is! Not that bullshit about going with the flow and being a doormat.
Not oneness. Not even Unity. It was something far more momentous—something cardinal and stone-solid. At that moment, I felt the lake, every ripple, every current. Not as something I was part of, but as a part of me.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
With Wind, I soared by embracing its aspect, letting it lift me. With Fire, I forced it through my body, into my mana channels, until I learned to accept it—or, more precisely, to stop fearing it. But Water was different.
I didn’t take on its aspect. I didn’t absorb it into myself. I understood it. And by understanding it, I understood myself. It became part of who I was at a fundamental, undeniable level. Not the other way around.
I wasn’t a drop in the ocean. The ocean was in me.
It was hard to put into words, even for myself. It wasn’t harmony or unity, nor was it submission or enslavement. It was mastery — but not the kind that comes from domination. It felt as though I had become its lord and commander, not by force, but through a true partnership.
I stood up and walked on the surface, a laugh bubbling up. Guess I wasn’t the first to figure this out.
The water responded without thought, molding itself to my need. A cresting wave rose beneath me, smooth and steady, lifting me. I leaned into it, the motion fluid and natural, surfing the wave’s peak without a second’s hesitation. The lake wasn’t a challenge to conquer; it was an extension of me.
Rue barked in excitement. He sped up, his jet ski slicing through the water like a blade. I grinned, instinct taking over. The wave surged forward, propelling me after him, water skiing without skis.
We played like that, the lake our playground. Waves rose and fell at my whim, wrapping around Rue’s jet ski in spirals, sending spray in every direction. He darted away, and I chased, the water shifting beneath my feet with perfect, effortless precision. No commands, no conscious thought—just pure connection.
The lake wasn’t just water anymore. It was alive under my feet. Part of me. Mine to mold and command.
I moved my hands like an orchestra conductor, and the Water responded in kind. Two streams rose gracefully, spiraling upward in perfect synchronicity, their surfaces catching the sunlight and scattering shards of light like glittering stars. The liquid twisted and turned, dancing at my command in a mesmerizing waltz.
The twin twisters circled each other, coming closer in a delicate embrace before drifting apart like dancers at the peak of their performance. With a flick of my wrist, they merged into one, spinning faster and faster until they burst apart in an explosion of shimmering spray, the droplets catching the light and raining down like a cascade of tiny diamonds.
For a moment, the entire lake danced with me.
I fanned my fingers, and ten jets of water shot into the sky, arcing upward in perfect synchrony. The spray shimmered in the sunlight, scattering rainbows through the air. It felt effortless—until one of the jets hit a bird mid-flight.
The poor creature squawked and flapped frantically before righting itself, flying off in a zigzag path, clearly shaken. I winced. "Sorry!" I called out, though it was long gone. Rue barked in laughter, his tail wagging furiously.
Well, maybe I still needed a bit of practice.
I examined my feelings—more precisely, my emotional state—and it was worlds better. The water hadn’t brought the calmness or acceptance I’d expected. Instead, it brought balance. I felt a perfect equilibrium between the fire’s driving force and the water’s counterbalance. They didn’t cancel each other out but stood as the perfect counterweights, each holding the other steady.
And just like that, the gloom that had been weighing me down was gone.
Hey! I did it! I actually healed myself!
To celebrate, I surfed around the lake, riding a cresting wave. Rue chased after me on his jet ski, barking with excitement.
My red light was blinking.
Wizard Battle Master level 12
And the most amazing part?
I had a new entry on my profile: