Chapter 20: “The Spark and the Storm”

The runes flashed. The razorfa The runes flashed. The razorfang's cage shimmered— And then it was gone.

A pulse of fire exploded outward as the beast lunged, black fur sparking with red-hot embers, claws glowing from the heat of its own fury.

But Seraphina didn't move. Not yet.

She just stood there, hands loose at her sides, eyes locked on the monster charging toward her like a comet made of teeth and rage.

Then—at the last second—she dropped. Flat.

The razorfang soared over her head in a burst of flame.

And Seraphina moved.

One clean, fluid motion. Fire surged behind her, forming a whip that snapped against the beast's back midair. It yelped—not in pain, but surprise—and landed hard, claws gouging into the dirt to keep from tumbling.

I watched, stunned, as Seraphina rose again, completely calm.

Her magic was precise. Not wild, not showy. It didn't crash outward like Valeria's fire. It danced—tight coils of heat that spun around her like trained serpents, waiting for a command.

The razorfang roared and charged again.

This time, she met it head-on.

Fire burst from her palms and streaked forward in twin arcs, catching the ground in front of the beast and igniting a wall of flame.

The razorfang didn't stop—it tore straight through, fur singed but eyes glowing brighter.

Its mouth opened wide. Teeth like daggers.

Breath like a furnace.

Seraphina spun aside, but not in time.

The beast's claws raked her side, tearing fabric, drawing blood.

I flinched.

She didn't.

She used the momentum of the dodge to pivot, landing a searing palm against its ribs. A burst of flame erupted from the point of contact—controlled, narrow, focused.

The razorfang howled and stumbled back, its side scorched black.

But it didn't fall. If anything… it looked excited now.

Like it had finally found a worthy opponent.

Valeria remained silent. Watching. Judging.

The razorfang circled Seraphina, slower this time. Learning.

Seraphina didn't let it get the upper hand.

She lunged first—leaping toward the beast, fire trailing her fists. She struck again and again, each blow a calculated risk. She wasn't going for raw damage. She was probing. Testing its speed. Its strength.

She was fighting like a soldier. Not a student.

But the razorfang adapted too quickly.

It started to dodge. Started to anticipate.

One paw deflected her next blow. Another swiped toward her feet mid-step, nearly catching her off balance.

I felt myself holding my breath.

This wasn't a spar. This was a fight to survive.

Seraphina slid back, breathing hard. A shimmer of heat clung to her skin. Her hair was damp with sweat, her side still bleeding.

The razorfang pawed the ground.

Then it charged.

And Seraphina made a mistake.

She reached too early. Her fire met its jaw—but the beast kept going. It barreled through the blast, twisted midair, and slammed its full weight into her.

She went down. Hard.

The impact knocked the wind out of her. I saw her lips part in a silent gasp as the razorfang pinned her to the ground.

Her hands lit up again—flames surging—but the beast clamped one paw around her wrist and snarled.

Flames licked at its fur, but it didn't move.

Seraphina twisted, raising her other arm to strike—

But the razorfang headbutted her. Not a full bite. Just enough force to stun.

She slumped slightly.

"Seraphina!" I shot up, heart racing.

Valeria raised one hand without looking at me. "Stay."

But even her expression had shifted. Her brows furrowed, mouth tight.

Because this wasn't going according to plan.

Seraphina was supposed to hold her own. She was supposed to win.

The razorfang growled low, smoke curling from its nostrils.

Seraphina's chest rose and fell. Still

conscious. Barely.

And for the first time… I saw it.

In her eyes. Not panic. Not desperation.

Fear.

Not of dying.

Of failing.

Of not being strong enough.

Of not being enough.

The razorfang raised a claw to strike.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

"SERAPHINA!" I screamed, stumbling to my feet.

Valeria's hand shot out to stop me—but I didn't care.

"Don't give up!" I shouted. "You're not alone—we believe in you!"

Her eyes cracked open, dazed. Bleeding. Hurt.

"You're strong," I said. "Stronger than they ever saw. Show them!"

The razorfang loomed.

Something flickered behind her gaze.

Then—

The world faded.

Not in the way it did when someone passed out.

But like her mind had turned inward.

She was five. Standing in the hall outside her parents' study, fingers curled into the edge of her nightdress. She'd drawn a picture. A good one. Of her and her big sister flying through the sky on dragons made of stars.

She waited. And waited.

When her mother finally opened the door, Seraphina's eyes lit up. "Mama! Look—"

"I'm busy," her mother snapped. "Go find your sister."

The door slammed shut.

She was six.

Her father stood before her with crossed arms. "Again," he barked.

The dark crystal in her palm didn't respond. Her magic didn't come. Nothing did.

He sighed. "Useless. Not even a flicker. Why did we even bother?"

Her mother stood behind him, eyes cold.

"She doesn't even have the family trait."

"Not like Ellara," her father muttered.

And Seraphina, small and trembling, felt her chest tighten. "I can try harder—"

"Quiet," her mother hissed. "Stop whining."

She stopped talking after that.

She was seven.

At the dinner table, her voice had cracked mid-sentence. She was excited. She had gotten a small fire spark in her left hand that morning.

Her mother didn't look up. Her father kept eating. Like she hadn't spoken at all.

Ellara, her older sister, had been the only one who smiled.

"That's amazing, Sera," she whispered across the table, sneaking her a sweet roll.

"I'm proud of you."

She almost cried.

The present snapped back.

Seraphina gasped. The weight of the razorfang was crushing. Its breath was scorching her face. Her wrist burned under its paw.

The humiliation was worse.

Everyone would see her fail.

Her eyes clenched shut.

"You'll never be like your sister." "You're weak." "Pathetic."

No.

Not again.

Not this time.

In her mind, a breeze stirred.

It wasn't fire. It wasn't heat.

It was something else.

Lighter. Faster.

It coiled through her like breath—cool, crisp, and electric.

The razorfang raised a claw to strike.

And—

BOOM.

A pulse of air exploded from Seraphina's body.

Not fire. Wind.

The beast was blown back, claws skidding, eyes wide in alarm.

Seraphina stood—slowly, shakily, eyes burning with something new.

Fire flickered at her fingertips.

But now…

Now there was wind swirling at her back.

It caught her hair. Lifted it. Wrapped around her limbs like invisible ribbons. The ground at her feet cracked as pressure shifted, circling her like a storm gathering strength.

I stared, wide-eyed. Even Valeria had risen from her seat.

The razorfang growled and lunged again.

But Seraphina moved.

This time, she didn't just dodge. She vanished.

Wind snapped in her place—and she reappeared beside the beast, palm blazing with fire. She struck. Fire erupted against its jaw.

The razorfang reeled.

She didn't stop.

She twisted midair, wind propelling her higher, faster, beyond anything we'd seen from her before. Her foot came down hard on the beast's shoulder, knocking it sideways. Her arms spread, and fire licked up her sleeves.

Flames surged down, meeting the wind swirling at her feet.

And then—

She flew.

Not gracefully. Not for long.

But enough.

She arced through the air like a firebird in flight and landed behind the razorfang with a slide that kicked up dust.

The beast spun, furious—but staggered.

And Seraphina turned slowly, expression hard.

Her voice, when she spoke, was low and clear.

"I'm not weak."

Her flames flared.

The wind howled.

And the real fight began.