The Power Within [Narry]

--Chapter 13--

Hola! Season's greetings! Winter break is here and I'm ready, bitch! Heads up, I'm trying out third person POV so further chapters will probably be in this POV.

P.S. Read the author's note at the end :) .x

P.S.S This chapter is dedicated to the lovely @lonelyafternoons .x I noticed that I've never dedicated a single chapter to her and that just won't do. Congrats congrats congrats on getting 100,000+ reads, love! You absolutely deserve it and here's to another 100,000 more *raises invisible glass of apple cider* 

Waking up at 8 AM is not fun. Waking up at 8 AM to find out that you're half an hour late on your first official day is even worse. Niall groans and rubs the crust out of his eyes before ripping the comforter off him as if it had personally offended him.

A note flutters to the ground beside the bed but Niall ignores it as he scrambles to the bathroom to begin his morning routine, only five times faster. The room is filled with whispered curses and groans as the boy hops around in search of his unpacked bags, the mutters only silenced when he trips on a wayward plaid shirt and lands nose first onto the carpeted floor, centimeters away from cracking his fragile head against the bed frame.

Niall squeezes his eyes shut to let the nausea pass and when he opens them again, another wave of dizziness threatens to hit as his eyes cross together at the crisp piece of paper sitting perfectly in front of his face. Niall grumbles as he grabs his bed frame to haul himself up and picks up the note, eyebrows raised when he sees that it's covered in scrawly writing.

If you're reading this, then you're probably late for class. Sorry. I could've woken you up but you looked really tired and . . .I didn't want to disturb you? If you want to kill the ladies on the first day, I grant you the honorary access to my plaid treasure ;)

--The King (Damien, obviously)

Niall can't help the big smile that graces his face before placing the note on his bedside nightstand. “What a dork.”

Slipping on a random T-shirt along with a gray plaid shirt just for the hell of it, Niall jogs out the door, throwing his school bag over his shoulder at the last second. Arriving at the front desk of his dorm hall, Niall asks the lady for his schedule and takes a look around the lobby as she pulls up his file. He spots a banner with the dorm's name printed out and forces himself to remember it. Aisling Hall.

“Here we are,” the lady hands Niall his schedule, “have a nice day, young man.” Thanking her, Niall rushes to his first class, which is “Entry Guidance” with Mr. Anderson.

 _____________________________________

“You want me to what?” Niall incredulously looks at his instructor who is currently trying to suppress his amusement.

“Focus on this piece of paper, Niall. Close your eyes and concentrate on all the senses associated with fire.”

With an exasperated sigh, Niall obeys and imagines a bright fire licking away at wood, growing as each minute ticks by. Niall opens his eyes to meet an unmarked piece of paper and he has to keep from rolling his eyes. “I can't do this.”

“Try again.”

“But-”

“It's a rarity to be successful on the first attempt. Try again. Remember to focus on the way a flame behaves—on how it takes its course.”

Niall spares the slice of tree a glance before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He envisions a match stick lighting up with a small fire, gently being lowered onto a piece of paper until it makes contact. He focuses on the way the flame dances across the material, leaving behind rugged, black scars in its wake. The flame roars in hunger once the paper is incinerated, feeding off of oxygen to maintain its existence.