Alone, I pressed my palms flat against the dry ground and did the thing I'd been trying to do all day with the sandbags—not pushed, not demanded, but asked. Is there anything here?
Something answered. Not in words, but a pull toward the left side of the clearing. I moved toward it and found, half-buried under a collapsed root, a fist-sized rock with a dull gold gleam. I picked it up; it was heavier than it looked and warm in my palm.
I pocketed it and stood up. Then, I got thoroughly distracted.
The clearing's edge provided the perfect conditions for an experiment. I sat back down, found a patch of bare soil, and placed one finger against it. Gently. Not demanding. Just asking.
A tiny green shoot emerged. Thin as a thread, pale and tentative, it grew about three centimeters and stopped. I tried again beside it. Another shoot. This one was slightly stronger.
Oh, I thought. I see.
Control wasn't about reducing the force. It was about changing the relationship. You couldn't wrestle the Wood element into compliance; it worked when you offered direction rather than a command. I spent the next hour making small trees. They weren't impressive—somewhere between a sprout and a sapling—standing in a companionable cluster around me. They were mine, made with intention and actual understanding.
When I finally looked up, the light had changed completely. The forest was quiet. How long have I been here?
I looked at the sun. Low. Very low. I stood up, brushed the soil from my trousers, and ran.
The temple yard was full when I arrived, breathless and soil-stained. Every other apprentice had returned. Chancellor Archer stood at the center, flanked by Instructor Nicole and Instructor Elias.
"Lady Clark," Chancellor Archer said with quiet precision, "where is your partner?"
Malcolm looked genuinely uncertain. "She must be—I thought she had already returned."
Drew was standing near the edge of the group. I saw the moment he registered my absence—a stillness that was different from his ordinary composure, something slightly tighter behind the eyes.
"Duke Porter," Malcolm said smoothly, "perhaps you know where she is?"
"I don't," Drew said. "But I know that if she'd gone with me, she wouldn't be lost." He looked at Malcolm with a calm, direct gaze. The temperature between them dropped several degrees.
"Go," Chancellor Archer interrupted. "The forest is dangerous after dark. Both of you."
They looked at each other with compressed tension, then turned and ran back into the trees.
I watched from the shadows at the forest edge, still catching my breath, the golden rock warm in my pocket. I should probably announce myself, I thought. Instead, I watched them go and felt—for the first time since the priest had touched my forehead—something that wasn't anxiety or calculation.
It felt almost like belonging.