Arthur accepted the rod with a nod, turning toward the water. Melite, intrigued, stepped back to observe, her arms crossed. Aleks moved closer, his voice steady. "Magic's tied to intent, Arthur. If you're just trying to force something, the sea's going to reject it."
Arthur closed his eyes briefly, fainting focus. Ripples spread outward, their rhythm deliberate, but no fish responded. His expression tightened, and he handed the rod back to Melite. "Your turn."
Melite raised a brow. "Fine, but don't laugh."
She extended her hand over the water, a faint blue aura enveloping her fingers. The sea responded sluggishly, a thin layer of frost creeping along the surface before melting away. Melite frowned, the air around her cooling as she focused harder. Ice magic was bound to sadness, and though she didn't express it often, the emotional weight of recent events lingered in the back of her mind.
