‘Hmm.’ It sounded like a melody from the queen’s lips. ‘I’m not sure I can answer that. Or if I should. A plethora of little moments shape us, mould us into who we are. That’s why that power, that force, is unique to each person. Discovering that truth – understanding that deepest part of you that forces your limbs to move, your lungs to fill, forces you to live, it’s – it’s a rite of passage all of us must face. Never easy, of course,’ she said with a soft chuckle. ‘There is no power, no true power at least, without introspection. But mastering it is what separates the mavens from the acolytes. For me, I guess, if I had to pinpoint it, I’d say it arises from my competitive nature. I give in to my hunger to control what’s around me.’

‘What if what I feel when I’m working with the water isn’t exactly of a – a good nature?’

‘What do you mean?’ The queen raised her eyebrows.

‘Sometimes – well, a lot of the time – I feel anger. A deep burning rage. It almost scares me – to feel something so deeply. And I always fear that if I give in, it will consume me.’

Araxia tilted her head, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘If you’re focusing more on holding back in fear of what might happen, you’ll never win. The water, the power, the anger can only consume you if you allow it. Believe it or not, anger isn’t a foreign emotion that people dig into when working with the elements. I don’t think it’s something you should fear. Own it. Use it to your advantage.’

Sapphire clung to every word.

Over the past few months, a need had been born – to be the best, to wield power, to be worth the crown.

She had no reason to fear it.

As she turned to prepare for the next round, her body felt lighter, less battered. Her muscles buzzed with fortitude and drive as she extended her hands out before her, wiggling her fingers. The water rippled with her movements, and she felt a wicked hunger.

Sapphire took a deep breath, preparing herself to try once more.

Hours later, exhaustion weighed on Sapphire as she finally made her way back to her room. She gathered the journals from their hiding places, and her muscles screamed in agony as she climbed on to the bed and stared at the jagged shadows the candlelight cast.

She peeled back the worn cover of the journal – the one with thin penmanship and a ripped spine. The journal that had preoccupied her since she had first felt it in her hands just days ago.