Empowered (Unbound, Book 6)

Chapter Thirty-Six

I stared into the flames, fascinated by the flickering distraction.

It was colder than I'd grown accustomed to in the Kingdom. Instead of sprawling on my back with my hands fisting the ground as I had anticipated when I left with Onyx. I tried sitting on the cliff but a newfound fear of going over the edge pushed me to the log benches beside the campfire I started with my magic. I fed it every few minutes until it burned high and hot, and I felt the heat fill me with warmth.

No matter what I tried, and despite the heat seeping in through my skin, I felt a chill and a gnawing within my stomach.

Zach had said to relax, as if that were even possible. I knew when I came to the clearing I'd be lucky to distract myself from the problems we faced and the constant fear that I'd never find success defeating them long enough to think critically about the points he'd made. It made sense, but so did what I thought, and now I had to figure out a way where we were both providing equal solutions instead of arguing possibilities.

Too much thinking is counter productive.

To determine a way forward, I had to clear my mind and let it develop naturally versus by force.

My gaze switched from the fire to my hand. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my thighs, and held my hand out, palm up. I barely had to think—just an image of a flame like one from a struck match in my mind—and fire burned in my hand above my skin but not touching it. It grew to a ball. I flipped my hand over and watched it roll over my knuckles, then my fingers.

Every thought disappeared except for the fire. I focused on keeping it alive but never out of my control. Let it burn but don't get burned. Make it breathe—in and out, contract and expand. Rise... fall.

The confusion coiled inside me unfurled.

The fear controlling my lungs and keeping me from a full breath became slack.

I turned my hand over again, content to simply watch the flames like it was a therapy centred on self-care. The one thing that made me happy just to be happy even if it made no sense to someone else. To me, the flame under my control existed because I could help it live. It held no expectations of what I could do and there was no consequences if I snuffed it out—whether on purpose or not—or kept it burning.

Was that how I needed to think?

The founding family remained unknown and separate for that reason. The only consequence of my actions or inactions was the emotional repercussions felt because of my ties to the people who were a part of the community. To help them, I'd have to remove the consequence. Do for the best of many instead of worrying about the impact to a few. Once I figured out how I should help, it'd be good and I could leave to allow the community to reshape on their own. To be better.

In the distance, a twig snapped.

The flame died to smoke in my hand and I looked up. My mouth dried, my breath stuck in my throat. My heart echoed in my ears. I glanced at Onyx, but she seemed unconcerned, but that didn't help ease my fears.

Devland could show up.

Anyone could find me here.

Zach was right and I'm too wound up to be useful.

The bushes rustled and another twig snapped. The sounds came closer, so clear I could hear the dry leaves on the path crunch beneath the weight of whoever—or whatever—was nearly in view and within the clearing.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Go away.

Go away.