Chapter 18: Chanelling

Strength without control is a blade without a hilt. If you let your power command you instead of mastering it, you won't just lose. You'll be the one who breaks.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

The relic on Thana's back burned in ways she didn't think others did as she scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. The pain flared with every movement, coiling beneath her skin like embers waiting to ignite. She ground her teeth and focused on the rhythmic scrape of the sponge against the plates, trying to lose herself in the monotony.

The mess hall had mostly emptied, leaving behind the lingering scent of breakfast and the distant chatter of stragglers. She was used to doing this alone. It had been that way since Evander had fallen.

The door swung open. Boots scuffed against the floor.

"What do you want?" she asked without turning.

"Relax," Ridoc said. "I'm not here to ruin your alone time."

"Then what are you doing here?" she asked, already regretting engaging.

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the counter. "Dain put me on breakfast clean-up."

Her fingers clenched around a plate. "I don't need help."

Ridoc grinned, unbothered. "You wanna tell Dain that?"

She didn't.

With a lazy stroll, he joined her at the sink, eyeing the neat stacks of dishes, the meticulous system she had in place.

"So... what's going on here?" he asked, tilting his head at the arrangement.

"Have you never washed dishes before?" she jabbed.

"I have," he said, "I just don't want to ruin whatever this is."

"It's called order," she said, scrubbing harder.

"It's called a cry for help." He laughed at his own joke.

She rolled her eyes but didn't respond. She missed Evander. He was quiet. He didn't tease her for her eccentricities.

The two of them fell into silence as they worked. Outside, the sounds of the morning shift changing hummed through the mess hall. Her shoulders ached, the burn of the relic flaring up her spine.

Ridoc shot her a sideways glance. "Have you started channelling then?"

"Yeah," she said, schooling her features into indifference.

"Aotrom says I should start any day now."

She didn't reply.

He dried a plate and leaned against the counter. "What's it like being bonded to the big blue dragon?"

"Don't," Valka warned, his voice coiling through her mind.

Thana smirked. "Loud. Bossy. A terrible sense of humour. Reminds me of someone."

Ridoc pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm honoured."

She snorted but didn't dignify that with a response.

They worked in silence for another minute before Ridoc spoke again, his usual teasing edge gone. "Can I ask you something?"

Thana's stomach tightened. She kept her eyes on the dish in her hands. "Sure."

"What's with you and Liam?"

Her fingers gripped the plate tighter. "What do you mean?"

Ridoc hesitated, then pressed on. "He talks about you all the time, but ever since he moved squads, I never see you two hang out anymore." His voice was careful, almost wary, like he already knew he was treading on thin ice.

She nodded toward the plate in his hand. "You done?"

"Yeah," he said, setting it on the stack.

She shoved another into his hands.

Ridoc huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no real amusement behind it. "Liam's off limits. Got it." This time, he wasn't being sarcastic.

"Can you finish up?" she asked, her voice flat.

He studied her for a long moment, weighing his response. Then he nodded. "Yeah."

"Thanks."

She pulled her hands from the water, dried them on a cloth, and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry," Ridoc called after her.

She paused. When she glanced back, he was leaning against the counter, his usual easygoing demeanour stripped away. He didn't look like the kid from class, always insistent on cracking jokes. He looked sincere.

Something twisted in her chest, but she shoved it down. She offered the ghost of a smile—something too small to mean anything—before slipping out the door.

~

Thana admired the carving of Valka that Liam had made her months ago as she walked down the hallway toward Professor Carr's room. It was a quiet piece, intricate and full of emotion, like a moment frozen in time. She hadn't realized how much it meant to her until recently.

She ran her fingers over it lightly as she walked, lost in her thoughts. She was one of the first in her year to start channelling, following Jack Barlowe, though it had felt more like a burden than an achievement.

Jack drove his shoulder into hers with a grunt as he brushed by.

"Aren't you a bit old for toys?" he sneered, eyes flicking to the carving in her hand. "Or do you use that for something else?"

A bark of laughter followed his words.

"Fuck off," Thana muttered, the words leaving her before she could stop them. She winced. Not her best work.

She shoved the carving into her bag, and as she did, a small voice echoed from behind her.

"He's a dick," Violet said, and when Thana turned, she saw Violet standing there with Liam.

Liam's blue eyes locked onto hers as a smile tugged at his lips, a silent reassurance that made her stomach twist in a way she couldn't explain.

"You can sit with us if you want," Violet offered, her voice laced with what Thana recognized as careful kindness as if trying to break down the walls between them.

Thana's gaze flickered between Violet and Liam, her jaw clenched tight. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for small talk, let alone to sit with the daughter of General Sorrengail. No matter how many people managed to separate Violet from her mother's actions, Thana wasn't one of them.

"No thanks," she shot back, her voice sharp. She quickly averted her gaze from Liam, unable to bear the silent plea in his eyes. Without another word, she turned and walked into Professor Carr's room.

Professor Carr didn't need to say anything to dominate the space—he simply did, with his presence alone. The man wasn't just imposing; he was intimidating as fuck, a silent storm that demanded respect without lifting a finger.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Miss Valaren," he said, his voice low, eyes hard and cold, examining her with clinical precision.

"Signet power?" he asked, his tone devoid of any warmth or interest.

"Not yet," she replied, her voice flat, despite the spark of frustration that simmered beneath the surface.

Carr studied her silently as if weighing her very essence. "Looks like Tavis has you training hard," he remarked, an almost indifferent tone in his voice. "You'll need to keep it up if you're going to wield a signet power as extraordinary as your father's."

Her pulse quickened at the mention of her father. She nodded stiffly, forcing the tightness in her throat to loosen.

"Take a seat," Carr instructed, and Thana obeyed, moving to the back of the room. She chose a spot near the stained glass window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the outside. There wasn't much of a view from Carr's end of the castle, just walls and more stone, but if she angled herself right, she could see the training field below.

Her thoughts wandered to her father. He'd spoken often about the power of signets, but never his own. He had kept his signet close, almost like a secret, and she could still hear the caution in his voice when he warned her that not every gift was something to be proud of. He'd never once mentioned the weight of his own signet, nor the cost it exacted from him.

The thought gnawed at her, filling her with a strange mix of frustration and longing.

"Let's begin," Carr's voice sliced through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. She straightened in her seat, ready—or at least pretending to be.

~

Thana rolled her shoulders, shifting her stance as she faced Garrick on the mat.

No fear. Not anymore.

Garrick tilted his head, lazily adjusting his stance. "You ready for this?"

She flexed her fingers, already anticipating his first strike. "You can back, I won't tell anyone"

His grin was slow, sharp. "Alright, Valaren. Let's see what you're made of now that Riorson isn't here to protect you."

He moved first—a feint to the left, a quick jab to test her reaction. She dodged, barely shifting, her muscles fluid as she read him. Garrick was fast, but she was faster.

Their sparring had always been like this—calculated, controlled. But there was something different today. A tension that curled in the air between them, thicker than the usual competition.

She blocked his next strike, twisting her arm to deflect his momentum, but he was already shifting, using the movement to pivot around her. His hand grazed her waist as he did, and for the barest second, she felt it—heat.

A distraction.

She gritted her teeth, dropping low to sweep his legs. He jumped back just in time, but not before her foot clipped his ankle, throwing him off balance. He caught himself, exhaling sharply.

"That was dirty," he muttered.

She smirked. "You're just mad it worked."

He lunged, closing the distance too quickly for her to dodge. His arm wrapped around her waist, using his weight to drive her backward. Her back hit the mat, and before she could twist free, he was above her, one knee pressing into the space between her thighs, pinning her wrist to the ground.

Breathless, she stilled.

Garrick's grip was firm, but his touch burned—hot and solid where his fingers curled around her wrist, where his chest nearly brushed hers. His breath fanned against her cheek, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You hesitated," he murmured.

"You cheated."

He huffed a laugh, but he didn't move. Neither did she. Then—light as a whisper—his free hand brushed against her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, the fight didn't matter. The mat, the others training nearby—none of it existed. Just the lingering heat where his body pressed against hers.

Then—too late—she moved. A sharp twist of her wrist, a shift of her hips, and suddenly she was the one on top, straddling his waist, her blade pressed lightly against his throat.

His brows lifted, but his smirk returned. "Now that's just cruel."

She leaned in, just enough to let her breath ghost against his skin. "I thought you liked a challenge."

Something flickered in his gaze—something she wasn't ready to name.

Neither of them moved.

Then—

"Miss Valaren."

Professor Carr's voice shattered the moment like glass. Thana jerked back, scrambling to her feet, her pulse a riot in her throat. Carr hovered by the door, his expression unreadable. "A word."

Garrick was still on the ground, propped on his elbows, watching her with something like amusement.

"Try not to get killed," he called as she followed Carr. "I'd hate to have to train someone less fun."

She didn't look back. Couldn't look back.

Twisting corridors, deeper into the castle—into places she'd never been.

At last, Carr pushed open a set of heavy wooden doors. Beyond them, a panel of leadership awaited.

At its center stood Lilith Sorrengail. And to her left, Dain Aetos.