CHAPTER 105: YOUM FLOW PACIFIED

The warmth on Mozrael’s cheek from Aramith’s lap and the gentle rhythm of fingers combing through her hair were comforting.

Her eyes fluttered open to a blur of soft gold light filtering through the canopy above. The forest air was cool on her skin, the scent of damp leaves mingling with faint woodsmoke from the campfire nearby.

He looked down at her, worry drawn in every line of his face as he tried to smile. He’d been awake the whole night, refusing to doze off for even a second.

"You’re awake," he murmured, voice low as if afraid she might shatter if he spoke too loudly.

Her temples throbbed in a dull ache, and she made a small sound of discomfort before closing her eyes again. The memories came in flashes—pain like her body was splitting apart, heat flooding her veins, and that blinding blue-gold light beneath her skin. Her breathing quickened.

"Easy," Aramith said quickly, his palm resting lightly against her temple. "It’s over now."

She swallowed, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen. "I know. But what if it happens again?" Her voice was small, and she was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Before he could speak, her gaze drifted to her forearm, and she froze. The faint dragon marks traced along her skin, glowing just enough to be seen in the daylight. She’d forgotten about them. Her breath hitched, and she pulled her arm close to her chest.

Aramith’s brow furrowed. "It’s alright—"

"No, it’s not," she cut in, her voice trembling. She looked at the marks as if they might crawl off her skin and onto the ground. "I just wish—"

"Breathe, kid." Lynnor’s voice broke through as she approached from the direction of the spring. She crouched down beside them.

"It’s nothing to panic over. Those marks are just your power making itself known. If you try to use it before you’re ready, it’ll tear you up from the inside. So until I teach you how to handle it, you’re not using your power at all."

Mozrael blinked up at her. "But—"

"No buts. You can only ask questions about it or complain once we’re done." Lynnor’s tone left no room for argument. "Well, since the sun’s fully up, we’ll start training so you can use them without frying your mind."

Mozrael looked away, her gaze catching on Aramith. There was a flicker of something in his eyes she couldn’t quite place. It was clear there was worry, yes, but maybe...fear?

Her stomach knotted. "Are you... afraid of me now?" The words were quiet, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Aramith blinked, then let out a breath that carried a faint laugh. "Afraid of you? No." He hesitated, then added, "You’ve asked me this question already."

"I...yes." She glanced back at the marks, tracing them lightly with her fingertips. "It still feels strange."

"Of course it’s strange. This is the first time you’re experiencing it," Lynnor explained. "Right now, it’s calm because I kept it in check for you. But it’s yours. Once you learn control, you’ll be able to let it flow when you choose, and keep it still when you don’t."

"But what if—"

Lynnor shook her head. "We’ll make it work. " She glanced at Mozrael’s arms, then smirked faintly. "We’ll figure something out. For now, though, you’re getting a bath in the spring. Warm water, clear air, a little quiet... it’ll help before we start."

The memories rushed back, and Mozrael’s lips parted in protest, but Lynnor was already standing, turning toward the path. "Come on. Before you talk yourself into another panic."

Mozrael knelt at the edge, dipping her fingers into the warmth. The heat spread through her skin, easing the tension in her shoulders. And for the first time since waking, she let herself breathe without feeling the fear press in.

Lynnor crouched, dipped her hand in, and nodded approvingly. "Perfect. Warm enough to soak the stiffness out of you." She straightened and turned to Aramith. "You’re staying away."

He sighed.

"Don’t ha me. It’s because she’s getting in naked," Lynnor said flatly, then smirked at his sputter. "Don’t pretend it’s not awkward. Even for siblings. Go sit by that tree over there and look broody or something. I’ll call you when she’s done."

Aramith gave Mozrael one last glance before muttering under his breath and doing as he was told. Lynnor waited until his footsteps faded into the undergrowth before turning back.

"Alright, in you go."

Mozrael hesitated. "Do I have to?" She was still afraid of what had happened before.

"Yes, and no. You just need to let the warmth get into your bones. It’ll help before we start."

With a small sigh, Mozrael shed her clothes, folding them neatly beside a flat rock. The air kissed her bare skin with a cool sting, but the moment she stepped into the water, that sensation vanished. Heat lapped at her ankles, then her knees, pulling a breath from her lips as it seeped deeper.

She waded until the water reached her waist and then sank down to her shoulders, the surface rippling around her. The warmth wrapped her in a way that felt both comforting and strange, like the heat was not just touching her skin but reaching inward, loosening knots she hadn’t realized were there.

The marks along her arms glowed faintly beneath the surface, their blue-and-gold shimmer blurring. She stared at them, her heartbeat slowing.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Lynnor’s voice was softer now, the edge gone.

Mozrael blinked up at her. "...It feels like it’s alive."

"It is," Lynnor said, crouching by the edge.

Mozrael trailed her fingers through the water, watching the light shift under her skin. "I didn’t ask for this."

"Most people don’t," Lynnor said simply. "But you can still decide what you do with it."

For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the spring’s gentle trickle and the rustle of leaves filled the air. Mozrael let herself drift in the warmth, her body slowly unclenching from the tension of the morning.

When Lynnor finally stood, she offered a hand. "Alright. Time to get out before you turn into a boiled lump of meat. We’ve got work to do."

Aramith sat with his back against a tree, staring at a patch of moss on the ground. He told himself he wasn’t counting the minutes, but the quick lift of his head when Lynnor’s voice called from the spring gave him away.

Mozrael followed Lynnor into view, hair damp and clinging in soft strands, her skin still faintly flushed from the heat. The faint glow of the marks was there, but muted, less like an exhibition of power, and more like an odd ornament threaded along her arms. In a way, they looked beautiful.

Aramith got to his feet quickly, scanning her face for any trace of pain. "How are you feeling?"

She hesitated, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "...Better."

He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to be noticeable. "Okay."

Lynnor smirked as she passed him. "See? She didn’t drown."

Mozrael shot her a look that was half shy, half amused, but didn’t say anything.

They walked back toward the campfire together. Aramith stayed close, not crowding her but always within reach. When they sat down, she caught him watching her with that same quiet, worried attention he’d had since she collapsed.

"You keep looking at me like I’m about to break," she murmured, her voice barely above the crackle of the fire.

His gaze dropped to the ground, then returned to hers. "I’m just confused about all of this."

Mozrael’s breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say to that.

Lynnor came over and knelt across from Mozrael, her hands resting lightly on the younger girl’s shoulders.

"Alright," Lynnor said, her voice calm but carrying that underlying firmness. "I tightened your energy so it wouldn’t tear you apart. Now I’m going to loosen it... little by little. You’re going to feel it surge through you. Don’t fight it. Just... follow it."

Mozrael nodded, though her fingers curled slightly into her lap.

"You’ll be fine," Aramith said out loud.

Mozrael smiled and prepared her mind.

The first release was subtle. Lynnor shifted her hand in a way Mozrael couldn’t see, and the warmth in her chest bloomed outward like ripples in a still pond. Her skin prickled. The blue-gold marks along her arms flared in a slow pulse before fading again.

Mozrael inhaled sharply. The air felt crisper somehow.

"That’s one," Lynnor said. "Breathe. Don’t chase it. Let it come to you."

The second release was stronger. Energy threaded into her limbs, her fingertips tingling as if they had been asleep and were waking all at once. The marks pulsed brighter, heat pooling beneath them before ebbing away.

She swallowed. "I can... hear the water better," she murmured, startled by the detail in the sound—the distinct trickle of each small stream feeding into the spring, the faint plink of droplets falling from leaves. It wasn’t loud and distorting like the first time.

Lynnor smiled faintly. "Good. That means you’re paying attention." But Lynnor eyed her curiously. How is she able to gain control so easily?

A third release sent the rush all the way to her head. Her vision sharpened until she could pick out the glint of dew on a blade of grass several paces away. Her sense of smell followed.

Each release brought the same rhythm: a flare of her dragon marks, then a slow dimming.

By the sixth or seventh release, Mozrael’s breaths were deep, steady. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but each inhale felt like drinking cool water on a hot day.

Finally, Lynnor’s hands fell away. "That’s all of it," she said. "Now... try moving it yourself."

Mozrael closed her eyes, focusing inward. The energy was there, powerful, but not aggressive. She tugged at it gently, and her marks blazed bright enough to throw soft reflections on the water nearby. Another thought, and they dimmed, though never fading entirely.

"They won’t disappear," Lynnor observed. "I guess they’re part of you now. But maybe with time, you’ll learn to control them." Lynnor did her best to sound casual as ever, btu she still felt Mozrael was more than abnormal. She expected Mozrael to take control bit by bit, and that it would take a few day to comprete. But in less than an hour, she gained control. How???

Mozrael let the glow settle into a soft pulse, her lips curving faintly. For now, the power in her body felt like it belonged to her.

From where he sat, Aramith watched every flicker of Mozrael’s marks, every subtle change in her breathing. His fists rested loosely on his knees, but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease until he saw her shoulders drop in relief at the end of each pulse.

Lynnor looked at him and grinned when all was done.

"Why do you always look like an old woman thinking about her children?"

Aramith ignored her, eyes still on Mozrael, though the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.