The forest had settled into a quiet rhythm. Morning mist lingered, soft and pale, as if hesitant to reveal the day. Celeste stood in the clearing, the fragment floating lightly in her hands. Its warmth was steady now, a quiet reassurance against the fear that had gripped her the night before. She could feel the pull of its energy, alive and insistent, urging her to understand, to act, to accept.
The prince watched her from across the clearing. His horse was tethered nearby, but he had dismounted, and his posture suggested patience and command at the same time. Celeste was still learning to read him. He rarely smiled, rarely showed emotion, but somehow his presence carried weight, a subtle warmth that made her feel observed but not pressured.
"You must focus," he said quietly. His voice carried easily through the soft rustle of leaves. "The fragment is not just a light. It is connected to you. To your mind, your heart, and your intent. If you hesitate, it will sense doubt. If you fear, it will respond to fear. You must command it, not try to control it by force."
Celeste frowned, holding the fragment closer. Intent and command. She had no idea how to do either. Her entire life had been about hiding, keeping quiet, not standing out. The idea that she now had to summon strength she didn't yet know she possessed made her chest ache.
"I don't know if I can," she whispered. The words felt small, inadequate, but they were all she could say.
The prince stepped closer. "You can," he said simply. "But you will not succeed if you doubt yourself. Close your eyes. Feel it. Listen."
Celeste closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The warmth in her hands spread upward, through her arms and into her chest. She focused on that sensation, letting it fill her mind. She imagined a thread of light stretching from her palms into the air, flowing like water, connecting to the sky above and the earth beneath her. The fragment pulsed in response, gentle at first, then stronger, as if acknowledging her effort.
"Good," the prince said, his tone quiet but approving. "Do not think of what it can do. Think of what you want it to do."
Celeste's heart raced. What did she want it to do? She had never been asked such a question. Every instinct screamed caution, but another part of her, the part that had always been curious about the whispers in the stars, whispered that she could try. That she had to try.
She stretched her fingers, imagining a shape forming in the air. Light unfurled, delicate and uneven, weaving itself into a small arc above her palms. It wavered and dimmed, then pulsed again, stronger, as though correcting itself. Her breath caught in her throat.
"You see," the prince said. "It responds. Not to force, but to your will. Your intent shapes it."
Celeste nodded, trembling with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. For the first time, she felt that strange spark she had glimpsed the night the star fell. A connection, fragile and terrifying, but real.
The prince observed her quietly, letting the silence stretch between them. Then he spoke again. "You will tire quickly if you do not pace yourself. Magic, like strength, is bound to endurance. Push too hard, and it will overwhelm you. Respect it, and it will serve you."
She swallowed and nodded again. She wanted to ask questions, to understand everything at once, but she did not. She trusted him. Somehow, she had to.
The morning passed with careful practice. Celeste learned to guide the fragment through small movements, shaping its light into simple forms, feeling the ebb and flow of its energy. Each success gave her a rush of pride, but each failure reminded her of how far she had to go. She tripped over her own focus more than once, letting the fragment waver or flicker unevenly. The prince never scolded her. He corrected with a word, a gesture, or a patient glance.
At one point, the fragment pulsed violently, responding to a sudden fear that surged in Celeste when she imagined losing control. She stumbled backward, nearly dropping it. The prince's hand was there instantly, steadying her without touching the fragment. "Breathe," he said quietly. "It feels your fear. Calm yourself, and it will calm."
She closed her eyes and let the warmth wash over her. Slowly, the fragment steadied, its light softening into a steady glow. Relief coursed through her, followed immediately by exhaustion. Her knees ached, her arms trembled, but for the first time, she felt she had achieved something real.
The prince studied her closely, then nodded. "You did well. Better than most who attempt this on their first day. You are stronger than you realize."
Celeste looked at him, surprised. "You… really think so?"
He did not smile, but there was a softness in his gaze. "I do. But do not let pride cloud your learning. You have a long way to go."
She nodded, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and apprehension. Every lesson brought clarity, but also the weight of responsibility. The fragment was more than a tool. It was a part of her now, something alive, aware, demanding respect and understanding.
As the sun began to set, casting golden light across the clearing, the prince gestured toward the path. "Rest tonight, and tomorrow we move again. You are not alone in this. But remember, every step forward brings attention. Some of it is good, some dangerous. The fragment will respond to both."
Celeste held the fragment close, feeling its warmth pulse against her chest. For the first time, she felt both fear and a cautious excitement for the road ahead. The forest stretched around them, quiet and watchful. Stars above began to shimmer faintly, a reminder that the night would come again, and with it, the challenges that waited in darkness.
And she would face them, one step at a time, guided by the light in her hands, and the strange, unyielding presence of the prince at her side.