The bonfire roared, its orange tongues licking hungrily at the darkening sky and casting long, erratic shadows across the black sand. Daniella sat cross-legged, her knuckles white where they gripped her knees. The heat of the flames felt prickly and sharp against her skin, but it was a mere flicker compared to the volatile, pressurized heat trapped beneath her ribs.
Jasper didn't just walk; he prowled. He moved in a slow, predatory circle around her, his boots crunching rhythmically on the obsidian grains. Their fight from the night before still hung in the air like the metallic scent of ozone before a storm, thickening the tension until every breath felt heavy.
"Again," Jasper commanded, his voice a low vibration that set her teeth on edge.
"I'm trying!" Daniella hissed, her jaw locking. She shut her eyes tight, visualizing the "Blessing" nestled beneath her heart—a heavy, pulsing green gem of raw divinity. She reached inward, trying to coax a single strand of that emerald light toward her shoulder. It resisted her touch, coiled like a cornered viper. When she pushed harder, it didn't flow; it lunged.
The power slammed into the inside of her bicep like a physical hammer blow. Daniella let out a sharp gasp, her body jerking sideways as a mottled purple bruise bloomed instantly across her skin.
"Don't coax it. Don't beg it," Jasper said. He came to a halt, his voice dropping to a register that was irritatingly calm. "It is not a guest in your body, Daniella. It is a part of your biology now. If you treat it like a foreign object, your body will reject it like a virus. Integrate the magical cells into your dormant ones. Force the union."
He dropped abruptly into a crouch in front of her, his bare chest slick with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the firelight. Daniella pointedly looked away from the lean muscle of his torso, fighting a distraction she refused to acknowledge.
"Watch," he muttered.
Jasper closed his eyes, his features settling into a mask of chilling indifference. From the center of his chest, a vein of ink-black smoke began to crawl outward. It moved with the liquid grace of a river, sliding beneath his skin, traveling down his right arm, snaking across his collarbone, and circling back through the left. It was effortless—a dark, silent tide of power that met zero resistance.
"Stop thinking," he whispered. He leaned forward, reaching out to tap her temple with a singular, steady finger. "Every time your temper flares or your focus slips, the power thrashes. It's trying to make your frustration a reality. Quiet the vessel, and the power will follow."
"I understand," she murmured, her voice losing its edge. In the quiet gravity of his instruction, the sharp hatred she nursed for him softened, if only by a fraction.
"Good. Try again."
Daniella dove back inward. This time, she didn't fight the emerald light; she opened herself to it. She imagined her dormant cells unclinching, welcoming the viridian essence like parched earth welcoming rain. She felt the first successful loop—the power slid from her chest, down her torso, and began to circulate through her legs.
It felt like liquid sunlight, warm and thick, yet the path felt scorched with each cycle. As the energy passed through her bruised arms, the dull ache began to recede, nourished by the divine flow. But the process was grueling. Internally, it felt as if her veins were being lined with shards of hot glass, cleaving through channels that had been closed since birth.
THUMP.
The ground beneath the black sand shuddered violently. A low, rhythmic rumbling vibrated through her seat, threatening to shatter her concentration. She felt Jasper's hand—heavy, calloused, and unyielding—clamp down on her shoulder.
"Ignore it," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear, his voice a sharp blade cutting through her panic. "Shut it out. If you break the flow now, the backlash will snap your ribs like dry kindling. Focus on the circulation. Match it to your heartbeat."
The world outside her mind dissolved into a cacophony of nightmares. High-pitched, metallic screeches tore through the night as a horde of chitinous, multi-limbed beasts crested the dunes. Their eyes glowed like dying embers in the dark, their mandibles clicking in anticipation.
Jasper didn't stand. He remained seated, his eyes fixed intently on Daniella's face, monitoring the rhythmic glow of her skin even as the first beast lunged. With a casual flick of his free wrist, black smoke erupted from his pores. It solidified mid-air into heavy, barbed chains that lashed out with a crack, snagging the beast by its throat and slamming it into the sand with bone-breaking force.
As the horde closed in, Jasper's body gave a singular, violent flinch. The smoke around him surged, splitting away from his form to create a shadow clone—a jagged, unrefined mirror image of himself made of pure, condensed essence.
The clone didn't hesitate. It sprinted into the darkness on a manic killing spree, moving with a supernatural, stuttering speed. Its hands shifted into long, curved blades that harvested the lesser beasts like wheat, leaving a trail of severed limbs in its wake.
Then, the sand exploded as the real threat emerged: a Void-Stalker.
It stood twelve feet tall, a skeletal titan of obsidian bone that seemed to swallow the firelight. Its head was a narrow, eyeless wedge, split by a vertical maw that vibrated with a nauseating hum. Instead of arms, it possessed four elongated scythes dripping with caustic, steaming bile.
The shadow-clone met it head-on. The Stalker lunged, its scythe whistling through the air, but the clone dissolved into oily smoke at the moment of impact. The blade passed through empty air, and the clone solidified instantly on the beast's back.
The clone's hands morphed into jagged hooks, sinking deep into the Stalker's armor. It exerted a localized gravitational force, the smoke around its feet turning into heavy, anchor-like chains that pinned the titan to the spot. From its own smoky torso, the clone conjured a storm of whirling obsidian shards—miniature black blades that flayed the creature's hide in a matter of seconds.
As the Stalker shrieked—a sound that felt like metal grinding on metal—the clone plunged a hand of solidified shadow into the beast's open maw. It didn't pull back. It expanded. The Stalker's ribs glowed a sickly, bruised purple before its entire chest cavity erupted in a spray of black fluid.
Throughout the slaughter, the original Jasper stood like a silent, unmoving sentinel over Daniella. He watched the glowing green rhythm of her breathing, his shadow-clone returning to pace at his side like a loyal, tethered demon.
"There," he murmured, his eyes tracking the mossy glow as it finally settled deep into her skin. The bruises on her arms had vanished, the skin now flawless and humming with suppressed power. "You're finally learning. Do it again."
Daniella opened her eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What? Jasper, I'm exhausted," she complained, wiping a bead of sweat from her lip. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the perimeter. The desert floor was littered with the carcasses of the horde, their black blood seeping into the obsidian grains and vanishing into the dark.
Jasper didn't even look at the carnage. His gaze remained locked on hers, cold and demanding.
"Again!"
For hours, Jasper made her circulate power through her body. Day after day, he pushed her until the rhythm became second nature. She had to learn to move the energy without strain or conscious thought, until the God's gift nourished every cell, replacing dormant marrow with active brilliance.
"Can we move on now?" Daniela asked in a bored tone. It had been four days of this repetitive internal cycling. She was restless, her skin itching for a real challenge.
"Again!" Jasper demanded, not sparing her boredom a moment's attention.
With a deep sigh of frustration, Daniela began to pull the power from her core. Everything started smoothly. The energy glided through her veins and tissues as if it had always been a part of her—perfectly integrated, a river of liquid light.
"You have such poor emotional stability," Jasper remarked, beginning to circle her like a predator. "It is shocking you've managed to survive this long. Is your only talent when my cock is between your lips? Because right now, you look pathetic."
The smooth channels of power within Daniela's body sputtered. The light flared white-hot and buckled in her chest, battering her ribs. She doubled over, gasping as the energy turned into jagged glass inside her.
"Do you want to fight?" she ground out. The words came as a breathy moan as she clenched her sides against the internal friction.
"Again," Jasper ordered.
Gritting her teeth, she started once more. She forced the power to move, but Jasper's tongue was faster.
"Perhaps I should share you with Eric or Miguel," he mused, his voice cold and clinical. "I'm sure they'd enjoy watching you beg for mercy while they take turns using you. Would you find your focus then?"
The power ricocheted violently. Bruises began to bloom like dark flowers across her skin as the energy hit the walls of her vessels.
"Shut up!" she spat.
Jasper shook his head in slow disappointment. He walked closer and roughly lifted the hem of her shirt to inspect her torso, noting the blood pooling beneath the skin. He wouldn't have antagonized her if she didn't possess the ability to heal; when she circulated the power properly, it mended her flesh instantly. However, his eyes lingered on three small marks—scars that no matter how many times she circulated her power, never faded. They were a mystery he was growing increasingly curious about.
"If my trifling remarks are enough to fluster you..." He let go of her shirt and stared down into her blazing green eyes, raising a brow in mockery. "You will always be beneath my boot. Just another broken toy."
"It's not just the words, it's you!" Daniela snapped. "You bother me. If it were anyone else, this would be nothing."
"Really? Just me?" Jasper countered. "If Prince Miguel spoke, would you be calm? Steady against the jabs of Prince Eric? Unfazed by the threats of King Elderon? Daniela, you are easily provoked. Words should not topple your defenses. Again!"
Jasper's eagle eyes watched her, letting nothing escape. It took another ten days of this torture before her mind was finally steeled. She learned to build a fortress, letting his cruelty slide off her like rain off stone. She forced the power to flow even as he spoke of her humiliation, using the energy to knit her bruises shut the moment they formed.
"Perfect," Jasper finally said, a small, dark smile touching his lips.
Daniela's face remained a mask of stone. She did not smile back. For days, she had been tormented by his low blows, poked in every soul-deep wound she had ever known. She had endured it all without ripping out his throat. As proud as she was to have mastered this first step, the victory was bitter. The training had done fresh harm to a relationship that was already strained to the breaking point.