"The first time you use a weapon in earnest, you learn what you are. The second time, you learn what you're becoming."

  — Combat Instruction Manual, Pre-Fall Military

  They came out of the darkness like nightmares given flesh.

  More than a dozen eyes. Some are predatory, others like diamonds, but wrong. Their bodies glowed with sickly luminescence, the same blue green as the forest fungi. Eyes burned green in skull-like faces. Their movements jerked and stuttered, as if the muscles beneath their hairless hides and limbs fired without rhythm.

  Brute was on his feet before Lavender could draw breath. His lip curled back, revealing teeth that seemed larger than before. A growl rolled from his chest, low and ancient.

  Radiation mutts AND pixies. I’ll be damned. Zemmal's telepathic voice carried grim recognition. Wolves twisted by their time in the deep zones. Desperate. Hungry. They will not stop until they feed…The pixies are part of the old magic and they will be harder still.

  Zemmal had barely finished the explanation when the lead creature lunged.

  Lavender's magic exploded.

  Fire burst from her hands in a wild arc, scorching through the air in the wrong direction. Flames raked across the hollow. It served in sending the pixies backed, scattered momentarily by the fire. Barely missing Brute’s flank, he was already moving, launching himself at the lead hound with a speed that seemed impossible for anything mortal. Faster than she had ever seen Brute move before.

  The two beasts collided in a spray of luminescent blood.

  Meanwhile, the pixies descended from the branches above again and charged at Zemmal. His massive maw moved like light and snatched two right out of the air, swallowing hard for show. The simple act sent the pixies reeling away.

  Brute's jaws closed on his creature's throat and tore. The mutt went down thrashing, its glow flickering like a dying ember. Brute was already turning, already moving toward the second creature, but it was faster.

  It went for Lavender.

  The thing leaped, claws extended, mouth gaping to reveal rows of needle teeth. Time stretched. Lavender's hands came up. The magic surged.

  Aim! Zemmal's voice thundered through her skull while he swatted at more pixies with his tail. TARGET IT! FIRE!

  She obeyed.

  The blast went wide. Flames scorched the tree roots to her left, sending up a shower of sparks. The hound kept coming.

  Again! NOW!

  Lavender screamed. The fire screamed with her.

  This time it hit.

  The hound took the blast full in the chest. Its glow flared bright, then collapsed. The creature slammed into the ground at her feet, its body smoking, its eyes dark.

  Upon seeing the two mutts dead on the forest floor was enough to encourage the remaining pixies to take flight into the night sky for safety.

  Silence.

  The third hound had fled. She could hear it crashing through the underbrush, its eerie chittering cry fading into the distance.

  Lavender stood with her hands raised, fire still flickering at her fingertips. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her breath came in gasps that tore through her lungs.

  She'd killed something. Deliberately. With magic.

  The fire died. Her hands started shaking.

  "Lavender." Brute's voice, close beside her. "Lav. You're safe. It's over."

  She looked down at the smoking corpse at her feet. The thing's mouth was still open. Its teeth still gleamed in the fading light. It had been alive. Now it lay still. And she had done that.

  She turned away and vomited.

  The retching went on longer than the food in her warranted. Dry heaves wracked her body, her eyes streaming, her throat raw. Muscles she didn’t know she possessed in her stomach knotted and coiled. Brute pressed against her side, attempting to exert his usual comfort.

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  "The first time is always the hardest." His voice was gentle. "You did what was necessary."

  "I almost hit you." The words came out broken. "I couldn't control it. I almost..."

  "But you didn’t," Brute's tail brushed her leg. "I know your fire, Lav. I had a good idea where you would misfire. I was never in danger."

  He lies. Zemmal's voice cut through, accusatory despite everything. He moved because your aim was poor. But he is also correct: you learned. You adapted. You hit on the second try. Maybe next time you won’t leave a dying comrade to fend for themselves, too.”

  Lavender wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her palms ached. When she looked at them, the skin was red and angry, blistered from the heat of her own magic.

  "Shit. I burned myself."

  A common problem for untrained mages. Zemmal shifted, his wounded leg dragging as he moved closer to inspect her hands. Fire does not harm you intentionally. You simply have not learned to direct it properly. The heat escaped along your skin instead of flowing outward.

  "How do I stop that?"

  Practice. Patience. And learning to trust the urge instead of fighting it. The dragon's golden eyes fixed on her burns. Tonight, I will teach you how to modulate. Hot and cold. Intensity and restraint. Fire must be a tool you wield, not a beast that escapes.

  Lavender looked at the dead hounds. One torn apart by Brute's jaws, one burned to death by her magic. Violence she'd never imagined herself capable of. No, violence she had known she was capable of, and didn’t want to admit. Didn’t want to be guilty of.

  "I'm a killer now."

  "You’re a survivor." Brute's voice carried weight. "The creatures would have eaten us. Would have torn you apart while you screamed. You stopped them. That is not murder. That is life."

  The hound speaks truth. Zemmal's head lowered to the roots, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. Welcome to the real world, little flame. It has teeth. The only question is whether yours are sharp enough to bite back.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  They didn't rest that night.

  Lavender sat with her back against the tree roots, her burned hands wrapped in strips torn from her spare shirt. Brute lay beside her, his head on his paws, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond their hollow. Zemmal dozed fitfully, his breathing rattling with each exhale.

  The forest whispered around them. Clicks and cries in the distance, the third hound's pack searching for their fallen members. Or other predators like the pixies, drawn by the scent of blood and burning.

  "Show me."

  Lavender turned. Brute was watching her, amber eyes catching the faint bioluminescence.

  "Show you what?"

  "Your fire. Summon it again. Smaller this time."

  She hesitated. Her hands throbbed beneath the makeshift bandages. The memory of the hound's burning body lingered in her mind.

  "I just..." She trailed off.

  "You just killed. You just survived. And now you must learn from it." Brute's voice was patient but firm. "The fire will not rest because you are tired. It will push against you all night. Better to give it a small outlet than to let the pressure build dangerously.”

  Lavender looked at her wrapped hands. He was right. The heat had been building since the fight, a low throb beneath her ribs that grew stronger with each passing minute.

  She closed her eyes. Reached for the door she'd opened earlier.

  The fire came slower this time. Tired. Drained. But it came. A small flame flickered in her cupped palms, barely larger than a candle.

  "Good." Brute shifted closer. "Now. Make it hotter. Not larger."

  She pushed. The flame brightened, climbing higher, orange giving way to yellow at its core.

  "No. Keep the flame the same…there you go. Now, hotter."

  The yellow became white at the center. She struggled to keep the flame a stable size. Heat washed over her face.

  "Now. Cooler."

  Lavender hesitated. She'd only ever pushed the fire outward, making it stronger. She was barely keeping the flame from growing as instructed. Never had she tried to rein it back. Except out of necessity or panic. Then it had been instinct, like breathing.

  She imagined the door closing, just a crack. The flame dimmed. Yellow returned. Orange crept in at the edges. Something in her gave a small sigh, and that sigh made it easier to control the size of the flame.

  "Cooler still."

  The fire shrank. The heat faded. What remained was barely a glow, warmth without burning, light without fury.

  "You control the fire." Brute's voice carried approval. "Not the other way around. Remember this. The power is yours to direct."

  Lavender let the flame die. Her hands hurt less than before. The pressure in her chest had eased.

  "How did you know that would help?"

  "I have seen many magic users struggle." Brute's eyes were distant. "Those who fight their power are consumed by it. Those who learn to work with it survive. It’s like a breathing technique. Pulses that help relieve the strain."

  "How many have you watched?"

  A pause. Something flickered in his expression.

  "Enough to know you are different, Lav. Your magic burns hotter than most. But your will is strong enough to match it."

  Lavender leaned back against the roots. The exhaustion was catching up now, dragging at her eyelids. But something nagged at her. A whisper at the edge of her consciousness.

  She focused. Listened.

  ...if she is not ready when we arrive...

  The telepathic fragment came from Zemmal, his voice a bare murmur in her mind. She hadn't been meant to hear it.

  She must be ready. Brute's response. Mother will not wait for...

  They stopped. Zemmal's eyes opened. Brute's head came up.

  They'd realized she was listening.

  "What happens if I'm not ready?" Lavender's voice came out harder than she intended. "Ready for what?"

  Brute and Zemmal exchanged a look. The kind of look that spoke of secrets shared and decisions made.

  Sleep, little flame. Zemmal's voice was gentle. Tomorrow, we will continue. And we will discuss what you need to know.

  "That's not an answer."

  No. The dragon's eyes closed. It is a promise. Sleep. Dawn comes soon.

  Lavender wanted to push. Wanted to demand answers. But the exhaustion was too heavy, and her burned hands ached, and the fire in her chest had finally settled into something like peace.

  She closed her eyes.

  Sleep took her before she could argue.

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