(POV: Fianna)
The arena was quiet this late into the evening.
Fianna stood alone in the center, her palms open, eyes closed.
Her breath came slow.
To create my zone, she thought, I need absolute control over my mana—every flicker, every motion. Every element has to bend to me.
A faint, shimmering ring of red bloomed around her feet—a delicate halo of fire beginning to form.
Good, she noted. Now, amplify the fire aspect.
The flame flickered upward in a spiral, only to dim a second later.
She clicked her tongue. "No… Still too soft."
Fianna opened her eyes slowly. There was no frustration on her face, only calm scrutiny—as if she was solving a difficult puzzle rather than failing a spell. Her training outfit was soaked with sweat, but she didn't notice.
Her focus was a hundred miles deep.
She looked toward her right hand—her dominant casting hand. She rotated it slowly, fingers curling and uncurling.
