Chapter 119: The heat
Raphael's Pov
I woke before dawn, my body sensing the approaching day even as darkness still filled my chambers. I remind myself that this is something I must get used to. These perks are part of being a full god.
The lantern, my Ava, glowed softly on the table beside my bed. I reached for it, feeling its familiar warmth against my fingers.
"Good morning," I whispered, not really expecting an answer.
"Morning," came the gentle reply, still in Ava's voice. Stronger today than it had been yesterday.
A smile tugged at my lips. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Stronger," the lantern hummed slightly brighter. " Today's your first day of training like Drogon said."
I sat up, running a hand through my hair. "I am nervous," I admitted. "I don't know what to expect. I don't want to fail you, my love."
"You'll do fine," Ava's voice was warm with confidence. "You always figure things out. I believe in you."
Before I could respond, a loud knock sounded at my chamber. Without waiting for permission, Drogon entered, looking as though he hadn't slept at all.
"Time to begin," he said. He looked tired almost like he was in a hurry to get everything over with.
I nodded, quickly dressing in the simple black robes laid out on the bed by the maids. Loose pants and a black flowing top. I added the robe to finish the look. It was my usual attire anyway.
"It's made of fire-resistant material," Drogon added as I kept checking out the fabric. I just nodded at him.
"Where are we going?"
"The training grounds," Drogon replied. "But first, we need to discuss what you're facing."
He motioned for me to sit across from him at the table near the window. I did, placing Ava's lantern between us.
"The first thing you need to understand," Drogon began, "is that your emotions are now directly linked to your powers. I said that yesterday. I am just saying it again so you know how important this is. Your anger sparks fire. Fear creates ice. Jealousy manifests as wind. Each emotion has its element."
I felt different. It felt like when I was younger and I just got my beast only to find out it was different from other beasts. Now, I am starting over again. I sighed.
"That sounds... complicated," I said, trying to act cool about it. There was nothing cool about all this. This strange transformation. Being a god. Now, I have to be more careful than before.
"It is. Which is why most vessels fail," Drogon's eyes bore into mine. "They become overwhelmed and lose themselves to chaos. However, I know you are different. You have lived for over a thousand years now. You haven't done much harm like I would have expected. That's why the gods left you alone. They felt you were a better prison for Grey, plus, now Grey had a mate."
I swallowed hard. "How do I stop that from happening?" I suddenly asked, remembering the destruction I had caused when I thought I had lost Ava. "I mean falling into chaos."
"Control," Drogon said simply. "Not suppression."
"Like channeling water through wells instead of letting it flood, like the Mages do?" I suggested.
Drogon nodded, seeming pleased with the example I had given. "Exactly. Now, let's go put these ideas into practice."
The training grounds were empty this early, the grass still wet with morning dew. Drogon positioned me in the center of the field, standing ten paces away.
My mind wandered to Caleb and Gemma. I hadn't seen them in a long while and I wondered if they were okay. I decided to ask later. First things first... Control this new power, help my mate return, and then destroy the ancient one and Alasia.
"First, we'll work with anger," he said. "It's usually the easiest to access."
I frowned. "I'm not angry right now."
"No?" Drogon raised an eyebrow. "Think of Alasia. Think of how she took Ava from you, how she hurt Ava."
My jaw tightened as the memories flooded my mind. I could feel heat beginning to build in my chest. The way Ava had cried so brokenly. How I had almost lost her.
"Good," Drogon nodded. "Now think of the Warlock Clan, how they changed sides so quickly even after everything you did for them. How even as a king, Jorah kept betraying you but you showed mercy and didn't kill him... still they chose to fight with Alasia and harmed your mate."
The heat increased, spreading down my arms. I glanced at my hands and saw raw flames licking between my fingers.
"Now," Drogon continued, his voice steady, "don't push the anger away. Feel it fully. Accept that it's there. Then direct it."
He pointed to a line of training dummies at the edge of the field. "Send the fire there. Not as a wild explosion, but as a controlled stream."
I took a deep breath, focusing on the anger burning inside me. I tried to imagine it as a river of fire flowing through my body, down my arms, and out through my hands. With a grunt of effort, I thrust my palms toward the dummies.
A huge fireball boomed from my hands, not the controlled stream Drogon had described. It caught all the dummies completely, reducing them to ash in seconds. The heat was so intense that I felt it sting my eyebrows even from this distance.
"Too much," Drogon said, his tone neutral. "Again, but with more control."
We repeated the exercise for what felt like hours. Each time, I tried to narrow the flow of fire, to make it more concentrated.
By mid-morning, I was drenched in sweat but could finally produce something closer to a controlled flame rather than an explosion. However, the entire palace field was in total destruction.
Thank the goddess for the magical mages that we had. All the destruction would be fixed in no time.
"Better," Drogon allowed. "Now let's try something more challenging."
He produced a small red ball from his pocket and tossed it high into the air. "Hit it with your fire, but don't destroy it. Just knock it off course."
I tracked the ball's arc, waiting until it began to fall before releasing a thin stream of fire. The flame struck the ball, but instead of nudging it aside, the entire ball burst into flames and disintegrated.
Drogon sighed. "Again."
By noon, I was exhausted, my muscles trembling with fatigue. I'd managed to hit three balls without destroying them, but my control was still shaky at best. Plus, I wasn't fully healed yet from my merging with Grey and the Rift.
"That's enough fire for today," Drogon said finally. "Let's move to something different. Fear."
The afternoon continued with similar exercises. Fear created ice. Sadness brought water. Joy produced light. By the time the sun began to set, I could create each element, though my control remained weak at best.
"That's enough for today," Drogon announced as I collapsed onto the grass, utterly spent. "We'll continue tomorrow."
As we walked back toward the castle, a centurion soldier approached at a run. His face was pale, his expression urgent.
"Lord Drogon!" he called. "You're needed immediately. It's Lady Gwen, she's collapsed."
Drogon's expression darkened. "What happened?"
"Some kind of fever, sir," the soldier replied nervously. "Lady Anastasia says to tell you it's 'the heat,' whatever that means."
Drogon cursed under his breath. "Go back to your chambers," he told me. "Rest. We resume at dawn tomorrow."
"Wait," I caught his arm. "What's wrong with Gwen? Is she in danger?"
Drogon hesitated, then shook his head. "Not danger, exactly."
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