I draw in as much as I can bear to hold, even though I fear that any massive expenditures of magic will further exacerbate the decline. Then I focus my intentions on the misty barrier a dozen yards away off the coast. With a shrill shriek, I hurl magic at the murky wall like I’ve done countless other times, my thoughts concentrated on permanently lifting its protection. The air around me crackles, the sky illuminating with streaks of lightning. The mist shimmers like I’ve never seen before, and for a wonderful, exhilarating moment, I think I’ve finally done it, finally lifted the curse of the mist off the backs of the Thayarian people.

And then the current settles, the magic returns to the leylines of aether running through Thayaria, and my hope is crushed again. I sigh, knowing I should have known better. It’s been three hundred years since that fateful day in the war with Velmara, and despite all my efforts, I still cannot lift the mist that may be leeching my kingdom dry of its magic.

I want to sag in defeat and let my body crumple with the shame I feel. Instead, I go through my usual exercises, mostly ones I developed with Admon to help me with control. I gather aether again, my skin humming with the buzz of power, then force myself to release it without expending any of it, directing it back into the leylines around me. Then I focus on leylines as far away as I can sense, forcing myself to ignore the thrum of energy from the nearby threads. I wrench aether across thousands and thousands of miles into my body. With that magic, I call the tiniest spark of fire into my palm and maintain it, only allowing the smallest drip of magic to seep into its blaze. Without training, my magic is like a battering ram or a dam lifted for the first time in decades. On instinct, aether wants to pour out of me in massive amounts, more than most fae can even fathom, much less survive channeling. Practicing control and releasing small amounts of aether ensures that when it really matters, when my emotions are heightened and I’m reacting on instinct, I don’t blow a massive hole in whatever structure surrounds me, or worse. I train to make absolutely certain that I don’t have another incident like the one that erected the mist ever again.