Soul Fire

5.1

"I don't understand how I'm expected to transform when every time I do so, I nearly incinerate an entire room." Bloom's eyes trailed out the window of the empty classroom towards the circle of scorched grass near the front gates. Every time Bloom saw that charred circle of black, she grimaced.

Faragonda paced the room, her arms crossed over her chest. "When you feel that intense pain, you let your guard down and thrust out magic to protect you. It's unconscious, but we need to work on enduring the pain without making yourself vulnerable."

Bloom almost groaned in annoyance. Magic practice with Faragonda was frustrating, to say the least.

"How am I supposed to endure it?" Bloom signed, "It feels like every inch of my body is burning."

Faragonda frowned and nodded, as if she was completely aware of what Boom meant. "Building up a tolerance to pain will help. And unfortunately it will only come from repetition. Command it, Bloom."

The past few days, Bloom had given a genuine shot at transforming, but had walked away from their lessons unsuccessful. That thread- whatever it was- it's slumbering.

Faragonda has kept repeating that Bloom commands her magic, and that she can't let herself fear it. Bloom had heard that at least a hundred times, and if Faragonda said it one more time Bloom might actually snap.

"Commanding. Right." Bloom gritted out.

Her thread was a finicky thing, always shifting in and out of Bloom's peripherals. Faragonda said that it was Bloom's own unconscious suppression of it, stemming directly from her fear of the process and of herself. Once she learned to accept it, she wouldn't have to search for it anymore.

Bloom didn't really know what to think about that, but it sounded like a load of crap to her.

Blinking a few times, Bloom took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I am in control." She said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm in control."

Today, it had taken Bloom over an hour to locate that thread that connected to the core of her magic. Faragonda had forced Bloom to run a lap around the entire school (Bloom had learned by this point to always show up to these lessons in workout clothes), claiming that the adrenaline would help her feel more connected to her magic. Faragonda hadn't been wrong, but it had taken Bloom three laps to feel that thread clear enough to be able to get a tangible grasp on it. Bloom hated running, so that was like a punishment all in itself.

Bloom had gotten to this point each time before. She could feel the thread clear enough to get a grasp on it, but every time she tried to pull it, it shifted out of her peripherals. Almost in warning.

Bloom centered herself with a breath, trying to clear her mind, trying not to think about how unsuccessful she had been in the past. She had been trying to get herself back to that place she had been the first and only time she successfully transformed- pure desperation and unyielding terror. But every time Bloom tried to convince herself that this was life or death, her thread called her bullshit and slumbered.

Coaxing seemed to work with her magic, but when it came to the thread, that hadn't been successful either. Bloom had tried pleading, had tried tricking- nothing worked.

"I am in control." Bloom said softly. "Commanding." She remembered, "I am commanding my magic." Bloom whispered. She wasn't sure if Faragonda could hear her, but she didn't give herself time to care. "I am in control and you will obey me."

And there it was. 

Like a will o' the wisp, floating in the darkness within her. A little blue flame that was constant, and comforting. Like it had always been there, sleeping.