Is this the kind of thing peeps meant? Still needs a tweak or two, yet, but…
By Tilda’s twenty-sixth attempt to produce an illuminorb, Silviu’s patience was wearing thin.
“Concentrate, Tilda,” the Ambakian powermage snapped.
“I am concentrating.” Tilda rubbed her palm against her trouser leg. It felt hot; surely she must’ve been close to pulling the Power down that time?
“Again.” Silviu grabbed Tilda’s hand and pulled her arm straight out in front of her before releasing it.
Tilda gritted her teeth. She’d never be able to do this; she could feel the Power inside, fizzing through her veins as it had done ever since her initiation, but she couldn’t seem to pull it outside of herself to form one of the illuminated spheres that Silviu had demonstrated to her so easily.
Silviu sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Remember what I told you. Imagine a channel in your arm and direct the Power along it, towards your hand, where you can shape the Power into something more tangible – like an orb.”
“And if I can’t?”
Silviu’s blue eyes shone like chips of ice when he replied. “You must. You cannot progress any further with your training as a powermage until you succeed.”
“Oh.” No pressure, then. If Tilda couldn’t produce an orb, would Silviu send her packing and look for a new mage for Merjan?
Once more, that’s all. Then she was giving up – for today, anyway.
She closed her eyes and focussed on the fizzing sensation. It had been strange to feel that extra something inside her body over the last few days, and its constant presence had fooled her into thinking it would be easy to use the Power. But to consciously tune into that sensation and draw on it to produce an orb of light was much harder than it looked – what if she never managed it?
Don’t think about failing, a little voice said in her head. You can see and sense the Power – heck, you’ve even spoken to it. You can’t give up, not after everything you’ve gone through to get here. Concentrate…and try again.
Tilda took a deep breath and quieted her thoughts. In her head, she imagined a line, running from her chest to her shoulder, then along her arm and thickening where it reached her palm. Concentrating hard, she visualised the fizzing as blue light, and gently, drew it along the line, colouring her whole arm blue. When her palm was also filled with the light, she imagined shaping and moulding it into a ball the size of an orange, muttered “illuminarka spherus”, and opened one eye to see what, if anything, had happened.
Floating just above her palm was a pea-sized ball of brilliant white light.