After lunch, Mara nearly sprints to her room to pack for the trip. She carefully rolls up her clothes and packs them tightly in the new bag Surana had crafted just for her. She figures she can pack everything she had gotten for her birthday – well, except for the book Codi had given her.

Ezra comes in with an armful of clothes – one being Mara’s birthday dress. “Mom, I don’t have room for something like that,” Mara tries to dissuade her mother as she balls up the extra clothes and the dress.

“You are going to the capital,” Ezra explains simply, helping her daughter finish packing her bag. “You need at least one nice dress just in case you go to a formal event.”

That’s some excuse, Mara grumbles to herself, dropping the bag by the door. “Anything else you want to put in it?”

Ezra shakes her head. “I did want to show you something, though. Come with me. How far in your exercises did you get with Aeserast?”

Mara follows Ezra through the mansion to the yard where the training dummies are. “I haven’t broken a Source globe in almost a week,” she announces proudly, grinning.

Ezra sighs heavily. “So not very far, then.”

Mara frowns. “I haven’t cracked a Source globe in four days,” she adds, grumbling.

Ezra smiles as they stop several yards away from the training dummies. “You have to start somewhere. However, I want to teach you something useful.”

She examines her daughter, trying to figure out how best to explain. “Hold your hands like this,” she finally says, positioning her hands in front of her as if she is holding a volleyball. “Focus in the middle between your palms. Imagine your Source – the little silver sparks – collecting there.”

A butterscotch-colored orb slowly coalesces between Ezra’s hands. Mara’s eyes widen and she stares at it.

Ezra flings the ball at the nearby dummy; a few chips fly in every direction. She sighs. “Combat is not my field. Your turn, Mara.”

Mara stares at her hands. I… I can do that? she thinks, and miniature silver lightning bolts dance across her fingertips in response to her emotions.

She closes her eyes, imagining the silver sparks coming together into a ball of lightning bolts. Peeking at her hands, she is instantly disappointed. There is no sparking orb there.

“Try again,” Ezra encourages. “Imagine all of your emotions gathering on that one spot.”

Gritting her teeth, Mara holds her hands apart and focuses again. She puts all of her anger, frustration, and confusion into that space, imagining all of those tiny silver sparks coalescing into a huge ball. If this doesn’t work, nothing will.

A dark sphere surrounded by silver streaks of light grows between her hands. It looks like shooting stars in the night sky.

Mara grins, ecstatic. She didn’t believe it would work, yet here it is, right in front of her.

Ezra’s eyes also widen as she stares at the dark sphere with the silver flitting bolts. “Two…” she murmurs out loud just as the volatile orb of raw power starts to wobble, losing form. “Don’t lose focus, Mara. Throw it!”

Mara glances at the training dummy. A spear of doubt pierces her concentration.

Boom.

Mara flies back from the shockwave.

Ezra runs after her. “Mara, are you all right?” she asks, panic raising her voice up an octave.

Mara coughs. “Yeah,” she rasps. “What was that?”

“Energy isn’t a stable element,” Ezra explains shakily, examining Mara for injuries. “If focus isn’t maintained, it will react violently and possibly explode.”

“Makes sense,” Mara coughs. She hobbles to her feet and brushes off her pants. “Lemme try again.”

“Are you sure…?”

Mara nods. “No better time than now. Might be useful later.”

Having a better idea of how the orb is created, she holds her hands apart and focuses. This time, she imagines the sphere inside her mind taking form between her hands. The dark ball and sparking light appears again, more stable than before. This time, Mara maintains her focus on it and shoves her hands – and the ball – at the dummy.

The ball fizzles out of existence as it floats to the ground, utterly harmless.

“Heh…” Ezra tries to smother her laughter to no avail. “You… you have to focus on what you want it to do, as well.”

“Oh…” Mara stares at her fingers. Is she really doing this? A sense of exhilaration races through her, encouraging her to lift her hands and form that strange lightning storm between her palms.

Mara tries again and again. And again. And… again. Each time, she grows more frustrated and the ball of sparks gets livelier.

Ezra watches Mara closely, concerned. “Sweetie, you should take a break.”

Mara wipes away sweat from her eyes. “I will get this!” she growls, adamant. She feels as if she has to prove something to the training apparatus – maybe to herself, even. Either way, she is planning to finish what she started.

She jabs her fingers forward, her palms facing one another. The black sphere emits ominous crackles as the silvery lightning storm plays around it. She tosses it at the dummy, suddenly having a good feeling about this one.

The ball fizzles to the ground and disappears with a puff of dissipating black energy.

Mara grits her teeth, irritated and frustrated at the failures. Why won’t it work? she demands silently, staring at the erratic silver bolts flitting across her hands and arms.

“Stop, Mara. Just rest for now. We can try again later,” Ezra placates her, feeling her daughter’s agitation through her uncontrolled Source’s pressure weighing down the surroundings. She turns to the mansion, thinking Mara will follow her.

Mara glares at the untouched wood. “I will finish this,” she says firmly. If only it was a sword, she thinks wistfully. I’ve always been better with close-range weapons than projectiles.

Something clicks in her mind. If she can mentally create the sphere in her mind and duplicate it in her palm, won’t the same work for the image of a sword?

Staring at her hand, Mara imagines the silver sparks and black blob coalescing in her palm and elongating into a familiar shape. She nearly loses focus when the katana flickers into existence. It isn’t perfect, but it is obviously supposed to be a sword of some sort.

An excited smile creeps onto her face as she grips the hilt tightly, feeling an odd sensation of a solid and a liquid at the same time. She swings the sword at the dummy, knowing it is too far away to hit.

Boom.

Mara flies backward as her Source-created sword blows up. Wheezing from the impact, she staggers to her feet. Hundreds of tiny silver lightning bolts play across her skin, and her body tingles as if energized.

Mara stares at the destruction of the yard. The ground between her and the low-lying wall is scored and scorched as if a giant burning blade had sliced through the dirt. One of the two trees next to the low-lying wall is gone, a few scraggly roots peeking out from the churned dirt. The wall behind it is completely blown out, rubble littering the street on the other side.

The dummy is nowhere to be seen.

Mara slowly turns to her mother. Ezra had turned as white as a sheet. She stares at the wall with wide eyes, her hand slowly creeping up to cover her mouth. “That was the tree your father proposed to me under…”

Mara glances back at the seared roots, appalled. She had just destroyed something that important? Why did it have to be that tree? she cries mentally, her hand matting in her hair as she glares at the untouched tree that had been right next to it.

A wave of dizziness washes over Mara, and she sways on her feet. Her head throbs.

Ezra quickly catches her and helps her into the garden area. Mara rubs her temple, fighting to keep her headache from getting any worse.

Ezra kneels in front of Mara and grasps her hands. The headache abates. “Don’t ever create something like that until you learn the mechanics behind it,” she lectures her daughter. Mara can see the concern and anger warring on her mother’s face. “Source-created blades and Source-created projectiles are two different things entirely, and many people have to go through months or even years of training before they can master the bladed version because it takes extreme concentration and a delicate balance of Source and your own skills.”

Mara glances at the ruined yard, wincing at the destruction she had caused. “I… noticed.”

Ezra takes a shaky breath and hugs her. “You could have gotten seriously injured,” she breathes, her voice cracking. Grabbing Mara’s shoulders, she pushes back and stares into her daughter’s eyes, desperately trying to convey the importance of her next words. “Until you learn more at the Academy, try not to use your Source too much; it’s in an extremely volatile state right now. It can blow up like today, and I am sure Kimala won’t be of much help if you get seriously injured.”

“Okay…” Mara leans against the chair’s back. Now that she has experienced first-hand at controlling her Source, she feels like it will be a dangerous endeavor for everyone – including herself – if she does not gain more control over it.

Ezra’s eyes twinkle with unshed tears. “I love you.” Ezra pulls Mara into a tight hug. “I wish I could go with you, but I need to fix the barrier around Veera first. I’ll try to come to Cerlail as soon as I can, okay?”

Mara nods and pats Ezra on the back. She stares up at the twin moons Narein and Naros, again reminded that this world is very different from Earth.