The morning sun spilled over the empty training grounds, painting everything in soft gold. Milly lay on the ground, her body paralyzed from the neck down, unable to speak. Her eyes tracked every movement, but no muscle would obey.
Footsteps approached. The sage, still nursing the burn from their last duel appeared at the edge of the field. His sharp eyes immediately found her.
"…Mila?" he said cautiously, kneeling a few feet away. "I see… you've been pushing yourself again."
Milly's eyes widened, frustration burning behind them. She couldn't respond, couldn't explain.
The sage's gaze softened, though concern laced his voice. "I thought you were training the fire tornado, or maybe the fireball. I didn't expect… this." He gestured vaguely, guessing at the source of her exhaustion. "You're strong, Mila, no doubt about that. But trying to force mastery… it's dangerous. You can't rush perfection."
Milly's mind screamed, It wasn't the tornado or the fireball! It was… But her body remained silent, refusing to respond.
The sage leaned back slightly, shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. "Rest here for now. Gather your strength. If you keep pushing like this without control, you'll only hurt yourself."
He stood, casting one final look at her. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Mila. Don't forget why you train."
As he walked away, Milly's eyes followed him, her mind racing with frustration and determination. The morning light warmed her face, but it only reminded her of the gap between what she could do and the power she craved.
I will… I have to… her mind whispered. I'll find a way.