Fragmented Light

Chapter 11: The First Steps

"Breathe," Adran said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Just breathe and—"

"I am breathing," Lyra snapped, her legs already cramping from sitting cross-legged on the practice chamber floor. "Been doing it my whole life. Very experienced breather here."

From somewhere to her left, she heard Macri poorly disguise a laugh as a cough. Veritas, standing behind her, didn't even try to hide his amusement. Only Periaps, absorbed in calculating something with their green light, seemed to miss the tension.

"Breathing with intention," Adran clarified patiently, "is different from simply not dying. Feel the energy in the air. Let it flow naturally through your—"

"Nothing's flowing anywhere." Lyra's fingers drummed against her knees. "Everything's empty and we've been sitting here for hours and—"

"It's been twelve minutes."

"—and this is completely useless and—" She paused. "Really? Only twelve minutes?"

"Eleven minutes and forty-three seconds, accounting for temporal variance and quantum uncertainty," Periaps supplied helpfully. "Though in some probability streams it might be—"

"Not helping, Peri." Veritas's silver light formed what might have been a 'shut up' signal.

Lyra tried to focus on her breathing again, but her channels felt like empty mining shafts – hollow and useless and definitely not conducting any kind of power. The fever-warmth that used to burn through her veins was completely absent, leaving only aching void where golden fire should be.

"This is stupid," she muttered, shifting position again. "I already know how to use power. Just need to—"

"If you try to force it," Adran's voice carried a note of warning, "you'll only—"

Too late. Lyra reached for the familiar burn, trying to drag golden light up from wherever it was hiding. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—

Pain exploded through her newly-formed channels like molten crystal. Golden sparks scattered across her skin, trying to form patterns but shattering instead. The practice chamber's crystals screamed warning harmonies as reality hiccuped around her.

"And that," Adran sighed as Veritas and Macri caught her before she could face-plant into the floor, "is why we start with breathing."

"Fascinating energy dispersion pattern though," Periaps noted, their green light tracing equations in the air. "Almost like watching a probability matrix collapse into—"

"Peri!" Three voices chorused.

"What? I'm just saying, from a theoretical perspective—"

"Maybe save the theory for when she's conscious?" Macri suggested, her blue light forming cooling patterns around Lyra's overheated channels.

"I'm conscious," Lyra managed through gritted teeth. "Just... regretting several life choices."

"As one does when ignoring basic safety protocols," Veritas agreed cheerfully. "Though I have to say, that was impressive. Most people just get a headache their first time trying to force channels. You managed to briefly violate three laws of thermodynamics."

"Four laws," Periaps corrected. "That golden discharge definitely broke conservation of—"

"Not. Helping."

Lyra tried to sit up, immediately regretted it as the room spun in new and interesting ways. Her channels felt like they'd been scoured with mining acid, raw and burning and definitely not ready for whatever she'd just tried to do.