The days that followed were grueling. Master Wren's training sessions grew more demanding, each exercise pushing me further into the depths of my power. I could now sense the world in ways I never thought possible—the vibration of voices carried through walls, the faint energy left behind where someone had stood, even the sharp tension of a person's emotions before they spoke. But the more I learned, the more I realized how dangerous this gift truly was.It wasn't just about control—it was about boundaries. And I was starting to feel like mine were slipping.
On the fourth day, Wren introduced a new exercise.
"This is not about reaching out," he said, his voice steady. "It's about defense. A Sentient is as vulnerable as they are powerful. Just as you can touch the minds of others, they can touch yours—if they know how."The thought chilled me. "You mean... someone else could see inside me?"
Wren nodded. "More than that. They could twist what they find. Plant ideas. Bend your will to theirs. It is rare, but not impossible. That is why you must learn to shield yourself."
I stared at him, trying to mask the unease rising in my chest. "How do I do that?"
He gestured to the chair—the same one that had become both a comfort and a torment over the past few days. I sat, my movements stiff with apprehension.
"Close your eyes," Wren said. "You must build a barrier—not with stone or steel, but with your mind. Picture it. Shape it."I obeyed, letting my eyes flutter shut and my breathing slow. A barrier, he'd said. What did that even mean? My thoughts tangled, memories surfacing without permission—fragments of my childhood, the laughter of my parents, the cold, hollow ache of their absence.
"Focus," Wren urged, his voice slicing through the chaos. "A shield is not built from memories. It is built from intent. Find the core of who you are. Anchor yourself there."
I searched for that core, diving past the noise, past the whispers of doubt and fear. And then, like a flame sparking in the dark, I found it—a steady pulse of something unmistakably me.The barrier came slowly at first, a flickering edge that wavered with every stray thought. But as I concentrated, it solidified. I imagined it as glass, smooth and unyielding, encasing my mind in a protective shell.
"Good," Wren said after what felt like hours. "Now, hold it."
I did. The strain was immediate, like trying to hold my breath while running. My thoughts fought against the confinement, pressing against the shield.
"Your shield is strong, but fragile," Wren said. "It will hold against a casual glance. But what happens when someone presses back?"Before I could ask what he meant, I felt it—a push, subtle at first, like a hand testing the strength of a locked door. Then it grew sharper, more insistent, probing the edges of my shield.
"Wren," I gasped, my eyes flying open. "What are you—"
"Focus!" he barked, his voice cutting through my panic. "This is what an attack feels like. Hold your ground!"
I gritted my teeth, forcing the shield to stay in place. But Wren's push grew stronger, his presence like a storm battering against my mind.
"Stop!" I shouted, the word tearing from my throat.out. My shield didn't just hold—it expanded, slamming back against Wren's presence with a force I didn't know I possessed.
The room fell silent. I opened my eyes to find Wren standing a few feet away, his face pale, his breath uneven.
"Impressive," he said at last, though his tone was wary. "But reckless. You must learn to temper your reactions. That... could have gone very differently."
I stared at him, my chest heaving. "I thought you said I was safe here.""You are," Wren replied, his expression unreadable. "But safety is not certainty. Not when you wield that kind of power."
Later that evening, as I walked back to the dorms, my thoughts were heavy. The encounter with Wren had shaken me. If I could push back against him—a seasoned master—what did that say about me? About the risk I posed to others?
I found Kai waiting in his usual spot, leaning against the stone pillar outside."You look like hell," he said, falling into step beside me.
"Thanks," I muttered.
He glanced at me, his grin fading. "Seriously, Chen. What's going on? You've been off lately."
I hesitated. Kai was my closest friend here, but how could I explain something I barely understood myself?
"It's just the training," I said finally. "It's... intense."
Kai snorted. "Understatement of the year. Wren's tough, but he knows what he's doing. You'll get through it."
I wanted to believe him, but the weight in my chest wouldn't lift.As we reached the dormitory, Kai paused, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Hey, whatever's going on, you're not alone, okay? Don't forget that."
I nodded, though the words felt hollow.
"See you at dinner," Kai said, clapping me on the shoulder before heading inside.
I lingered outside for a moment, staring up at the stars. The power inside me was growing, changing. It was vast, unpredictable, and—if Wren's warning was anything to go by—dangerous.
And for the first time since training began, I wasn't sure if I wanted to control it. Or if it was controlling me.