(Sanya's POV)
And so my training begins.
Every day, I practice my gifts.
At first, it's small things—moving a pebble across the floor with nothing but my mind, making a candle flame flicker and dance without touching it, feeling the pulse of life in the plants that grow outside the cottage windows—and I'm clumsy, uncertain, my concentration breaking every few minutes because I can't quite believe this is real, that I'm actually doing these things, that I have this power inside me that's been dormant all these years, waiting for someone to show me how to use it.
But the seer is patient.
She corrects my posture, my breathing, the way I focus my thoughts, and she doesn't get frustrated when I fail, when the pebble rolls in the wrong direction or the candle flame sputters out completely,
