They travelled for what felt like days, but Lavender knew it must be mere hours. She glanced towards the sky, watching the fain glow in the canopy above. Her body ached. Resonant in a way that came when something is taken rather than given. As if it may be finite.

  Her hands throbbed.

  She lifted them slowly into view. Though unbroken, her skin was flushed, faintly warm. The thin pale scars glowed with the lightning that had passed through her. It felt as if they were pulsing, answering in recognition.

  Lavender closed her fingers into fists.

  Power answered the motion – not erupting or surging but acknowledging. Waiting.

  “That was reckless,” Brute’s voice suddenly came from a few feet away. He had not stopped keeping watch of her for a moment.

  “I didn’t die. I need to keep training.”

  ”You very nearly did; you need to take it easy,” he chided.

  “Still counts. I am taking it easy. I’m not a child.”

  She turned back around, pausing when dizziness swept through her vision. Lavender could only prey Brute and Zemmal hadn’t spotted it.

  The forest had settled into an unnatural quiet. No wind, no distant cries, no movement beyond the slow drift of glowing spores in the air.

  “Maybe we best take a rest after all.”

  Zemmal was the first to settle. He lay coiled nearby. Eyes settled on Lavender.

  You reached farther than you understood.

  Lavender shot him a look. “I didn’t have time to understand.”

  No. His voice carried no reproach. You had resolve. That is… rarer.

  She rubbed her palms against her trousers, grounding herself in the physical. “The bear didn’t respond to fire. But lightning…”

  Is enough shock to end a heartbeat. End a life. Zemmal finished. You learned quickly.

  “Too quickly?”

  The dragon was silent a moment. Possibly. But the forest did not reject you.

  That made Lavender pause. “What does that mean?”

  Brute shifted himself closer from where he sat. “It means you didn’t break anything that cannot heal.”

  “Comforting,” retorted Lavender. She swung her legs under her, boots crunching softly against stone, scattered crystalline, and moss. Closing her eyes, she began to breath deeply.

  The world began to hold still. Concentration did not come easy. Her heart was still racing, but it was no longer from panic. She felt the roil of fire and lightning threatening to crack her ribs and split her chest. Desperate to open her.

  She steadied her breathing. Focused on trying to find a balance. Struggled to contain the two great forces at once. Recalling what Zemmal had already taught her, she did her best not to fight the feelings. Did her best to merge them into one stream. Then, something clicked into place.

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  “I feel different,” she admitted.

  Zemmal’s eyes narrowed slightly. As you should.

  “That’s not reassuring, either.”

  He gave a sneer Lavender knew to really be a smile. Power leaves residue. You did not merely use lightning. You invited it. It changes the vessel.

  Lavender grimaced. “I prefer being a person.”

  Brute met her gaze. “You still are, Lav.”

  “For how long?” Neither answered.

  The silence stretched – thick, heavy. Then Lavender felt it: a pressure, subtle and undeniable, brushing against her awareness like fingers testing the surface of water.

  The forest was paying attention. Now, so was Lavender.

  She turned slowly, scanning the tree line. “We’re not alone.”

  No. Zemmal’s head lifted. But we are not threatened.

  Brute’s ears angled forward. “Yet.”

  The ground beneath Lavender hummed, not vibrating, but resonating. The scars on her hands warmed in response, a low steady heat that matched the rhythm beneath her.

  It was the strangest sensation. Like standing too close to a drum while someone struck it softly. Not loud enough to hear, only to feel. The sound wasn’t in the air. It lived in the stone and in her bones. Meeting her heartbeat halfway.

  Lavender pressed her palm to the moss-covered boulder beside her. The hum deepened. Not stronger – clearer. Zemmal watched without moving.

  You are not merely walking through this place, he said. You are being measured by it.

  Lavender swallowed. “Measured for what?”

  Brute answered before the dragon could. “For whether you can bear what comes next.”

  Lavender let out a humorless laugh. “That’s great to hear.”

  “It’s honest,” brute retorted.

  Lavender looked down at her hands again. She hated that they looked like proof. Proof of something she hadn’t chosen. Of something Authority would kill her for. That the dragon recognized in her with that unsettling certainty.

  “Is this what it’s always like?” she asked quietly. “The world… responding?”

  Zemmal’s gaze drifted past her shoulder to the trees. To the glowing haze and the air that felt too still to be natural.

  Not for most. Not even for most who carry magic. He paused. The world remembers the old laws in places like this.

  “The old laws,” Lavender echoed, tasting the phrase. “Why am I at the whim of these old laws?”

  Brute’s eyes flicked to Zemmal, a sharp warning. Lavender noticed.

  “You both keep doing that,” she said flatly. “Talking around things like I’m a toddler who doesn’t understand.”

  Brute’s eyes gave off a soft expression. “Lav…”

  “Stop!” she snapped, harsher than she meant. She took a breath and forced her voice to lower. “I’ve walked away from everything I’ve ever known. I’ve been hunted my entire life without even knowing it. I deserve the truth, but I’ll settle for respect.”

  The forest seemed to lean in at her words. As if even the spores suspended in the air wanted to hear.

  Zemmal blinked once, long and deliberate. Truth is not always a gift. Sometimes it is a burden that breaks the spine. I’ve explained to you.

  Lavender made eye contact and stared defiantly. “Try me.”

  Zemmal shifted, coiling tighter, lowering his head enough that his voice rumbled of the ground. The reason Authority hunts magic is not merely control. It is fear. Fear of what magic becomes when it is not forced into their narrow shape.

  Lavender’s chest tightened. “So they cage it.”

  Yes. Zemmal’s eyes narrowed. But there is another reason. Magic is changing. Growing. More is waking.

  Lavender’s hands twitched towards her sternum. “Because of dragons?”

  Brute body tensed. “Not only.”

  Lavender looked between them, anger and dread mixing until she couldn’t tell which was hotter.

  “Then what,” she demanded. “What’s waking?"

  Brute snorted at her in frustration. “This place. Places like it. The old seams. Old roots.”

  Zemmal’s tail tip tapped against stone, a sound like a nail against glass. "The world was not meant to be silent,” he rumbled. “Nuclear winter destroyed more than cities. It cracked the barrier between what was sleeping and what was sealed."

  Lavender’s pulse surged now. “And what was sealed?”

  Neither answered immediately. Not because they didn’t know. Because they did.

  The hum beneath her feet deepened again, as if impatience had its own frequency.

  Brute broke the silence first. “We can’t stay here. Not like this.”

  Frustration flared in Lavender. “Not like what?”

  Brute’s gaze hardened, not cruel, but firm. “Not open. Not loud. Making the forest pay attention.”

  She made no argument. He was right. She felt it herself, the invisible pressure closer now, not threatening, but aware. Every time her emotions surged, the heat under her skin rose. Every time the heat rose, the earth answered. With every answer the forest grew more intent.

  It wasn’t punishment. It was consequence.

  Thank you for reading my story. I spent a long time working on it and am glad I get to share it with others. Not your speed though? Check out another cool author below to give a try!