-Jasper-
The courtyard buzzed with magic, but I felt… peripheral. The chaos threads Alexia wielded wove themselves through the air, silver and alive, bending and twisting like liquid glass. I could sense them, yes, but I couldn't touch them—not the way she could. Not yet. Watching her move among the witches, guiding, correcting, coaxing without controlling, I felt a mixture of awe and unease. She makes it look so effortless. Why can't I do that?
I shifted among the fae students, their light flickering nervously at my presence. They were sensitive—easily overwhelmed, easily distracted. My job was to stabilize them, but I could feel my own anxiety threading through me, and I worried it might spill into them. I reminded myself to breathe, to focus, to be patient.
Alexia's silver chaos danced near us, curling around one of the witches, and Zeus padded close by her side, muscles coiled, ears alert. I glanced at him and felt a twinge of envy. That dog was fearless. Calm. Steady. Everything I was trying to be.
I tried to push the thought away. Focus. The fae were staring at me, eyes wide, expecting guidance. One student's thread flickered dangerously, overreaching for a new weave, light spiraling erratically. I moved my hands carefully, weaving my own subtle fae energy around the disturbance. The light stilled, pulsating in rhythm with mine, and the girl's eyes widened, relief and awe mingling.
A quiet smile tugged at my lips. Okay. I can do this. Small victories, I reminded myself. Not chaos-level power, not like Alexia, but still… something worth giving.
I stole a glance at Alexia. She knelt among the witches, chaos coiling around her fingers like liquid silver, her amber eyes alight with focus. Even from here, I could feel her intent, precise and purposeful, guiding without demanding. Zeus pressed close, keeping her grounded in the swirling energy. I want to be that steady, I thought. That sure of myself.
One of the fae, a timid boy with hair like spun gold, faltered, and I saw panic ripple through him. His thread stretched too far, bending in angles it shouldn't. I froze for a heartbeat, remembering all the mistakes I'd made in the past—letting my fear spill into the magic, letting my hesitation hurt people instead of help them.
I shook it off, bending my focus back to him, channeling calm. My fae-light flowed carefully around his wild thread, threading it back into rhythm. His eyes met mine, fear replaced by trust. Relief washed through me, sharper than any victory I'd felt before. This is why I'm here, I thought. This is why I can't fail.
I stole another glance at Alexia. Her expression was calm, almost serene, as if nothing around her could unbalance her. Zeus nudged her leg, grounding her in reality, a reminder that even chaos needed anchor points. I looked down at the fae students, realizing I could be their anchor too—maybe not like Alexia, but steady in my own way.
A sudden flicker of uncontrolled fae-light caught my attention. One of the younger students had overextended, spinning her thread too fast, energy spiraling toward a nearby shifter. I lunged instinctively, hands weaving around the spiraling light, pulling it gently back into form. The student gasped, eyes wide, and I whispered, "Steady. Listen to your light. Feel it, don't push it."
The girl blinked, and the chaos stilled. Relief rippled through me. My chest tightened with a mix of exhaustion and pride. I kept them safe. I did that.
I glanced toward the shifters under Finn and Kira. Their movements were precise, fluid, and almost beautiful—the way they shifted and leapt, instincts honed but guided by intent. I couldn't help but notice a small grin tug at the corner of my lips. They had such raw power, but even raw power needed guidance. Just like the fae.
The vampires, shadows slipping and twisting through the light, were unnervingly calm. Soren's presence was a constant hum of stability, and I could feel some of that influence brushing across the courtyard, touching even me. It reminded me again: control was about presence as much as magic.
I stole another glance at Alexia. Chaos rippled through the witches, silver and alive, dancing around the smaller threads like a living thing. Zeus pressed against her side, his warm body and steady gaze anchoring her magic, a living reminder that even the most volatile energy needed a tether. I thought, Maybe that's my role here too.
By mid-afternoon, the courtyard had settled into a rhythm. Fae-light, chaos, dragonfire, shadow, and instinct interlaced, each group moving within the bounds of their own abilities yet aware of the others. I found a strange comfort in the flow of it, a quiet reassurance that despite my fears, I had a role.
I knelt briefly beside one of the fae students, letting him feel the pulse of my thread, letting him anchor to me as I had anchored the spiraling energy. His trembling hands steadied, and I gave a small nod. "You did it," I said softly. "You kept it together." His smile was timid but real, and I felt the tension in my chest ease. We're learning together.
The sun dipped low, and long shadows stretched across the courtyard. Alexia's chaos threads faded into a gentle hum, still present but no longer demanding attention. Zeus circled back to her side, nose to the ground, tail low but relaxed, scanning the perimeter as if to say, All is under control.
I straightened, feeling the first true sense of pride that day—not from power, not from chaos, but from guidance, from being able to stabilize, to protect, to teach. Perhaps I would never wield chaos like Alexia. Perhaps I would never move through shadow or fire with the same ease. But I could anchor. I could guide. I could be the steady hand that kept the threads from snapping.
And for now, that was enough.