He does not return Istredd's smile. By the time they arrive in the wide hall that Istredd fashions from a nook in the library, Wilhelm's heart feels like it's made of lead, it's knocking around so heavily inside his chest. Carefully measuring each breath, he feels like he's about to speak in front of a room full of people. His stomach flips; his legs feel like the beaten up, wobbly kind that belong to old chairs.
He follows the balls of flame with wary eyes as they form and then float. He tries to absorb Istredd's advice, but his head is already spinning too fast to hold much of it.
"Okay," he says with a stiff nod. Or he thinks he says it. His voice is small and tight.
Holding his hand out, steadying himself with a deep breath, Wilhelm reaches for the fire with his mind. He can feel its crackling edges somewhere under his skin, somewhere beyond touch. Though it's the last thing he actually wants, he wills the ball of flame to come toward him. Nothing happens for a moment — and then it starts to wobble and curl.
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He follows the balls of flame with wary eyes as they form and then float. He tries to absorb Istredd's advice, but his head is already spinning too fast to hold much of it.
"Okay," he says with a stiff nod. Or he thinks he says it. His voice is small and tight.
Holding his hand out, steadying himself with a deep breath, Wilhelm reaches for the fire with his mind. He can feel its crackling edges somewhere under his skin, somewhere beyond touch. Though it's the last thing he actually wants, he wills the ball of flame to come toward him. Nothing happens for a moment — and then it starts to wobble and curl.