The Weight You Can’t See

(POV: Fianna)

The arena was quiet this late into the evening.

Fianna stood alone in the center, her palms open, eyes closed.

Her breath came slow.

To create my zone, she thought, I need absolute control over my mana—every flicker, every motion. Every element has to bend to me.

A faint, shimmering ring of red bloomed around her feet—a delicate halo of fire beginning to form.

Good, she noted. Now, amplify the fire aspect.

The flame flickered upward in a spiral, only to dim a second later.

She clicked her tongue. "No… Still too soft."

Fianna opened her eyes slowly. There was no frustration on her face, only calm scrutiny—as if she was solving a difficult puzzle rather than failing a spell. Her training outfit was soaked with sweat, but she didn't notice.

Her focus was a hundred miles deep.

She looked toward her right hand—her dominant casting hand. She rotated it slowly, fingers curling and uncurling.