Steven’s POV
The next day came softer.
Clear sky. Warm sun. A breeze off the ocean that smelled like salt and something almost… hopeful.
For the first time since the fire, the weather didn’t feel like an insult.
It felt like permission.
A chance to move. To train. To stop sitting in my own head until it turned into a prison.
I found Aqua in the kitchen, cardigan over her pajama sleeves, hair down like she was still deciding what kind of day she was allowed to have.
Fang was coiled on the back of the couch, calm as ever.
Except now he wasn’t just there.
He was in me.
A thread under my ribs. A presence I could feel even when I didn’t look.
I cleared my throat, trying not to sound too excited.
“How about we go to the clearing today and test my abilities more?” I said. “The weather’s perfect, and… I want to see what this bond can actually do.”
Aqua blinked. “Bond?”
“With Fang,” I said, and the pride in my chest slipped out before I could stop it. “He’s my familiar now.”
Aqua froze.
Then her eyes widened. “Since when?”
“Last night,” I admitted. “It wasn’t easy, but… we did it.”
Aqua’s gaze flicked to Fang like she expected him to announce it himself.
Fang just lifted his head slightly.
Quiet. Watchful.
Aqua looked back at me, half disbelief and half curiosity.
“…Okay,” she said carefully. “Then I definitely need to see this.”
---
The clearing was quiet when we arrived—open sky above, dirt underfoot, trees around us like a wall.
I set Fang gently on a low stump near the edge, then stepped back, rolling my shoulders like I was warming up for a fight.
Aqua stood nearby, arms loosely crossed, eyes on me.
“All right,” I said, a little too eager. “How do we test the bond?”
Fang’s voice slid into my head, steady as always.
A familiar bond is not a title, Steven. It is a function.
Aqua watched my face. “He’s talking to you right now?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Only to me.”
Aqua’s brows lifted. “So… you going to translate for me?”
“Pretty much,” I muttered. Then, to Fang: “Okay. What can we actually do?”
The bond tightened slightly, like his focus pulled the thread under my ribs taut.
Three things, he said. We test in order.
I blinked. “Okay—he says there are three tests. We do them in order.”
Aqua folded her arms, interested. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Fang’s voice stayed calm, precise.
First: we locate.
Second: we sense each other’s emotional state.
Third: I regulate your Amoris.
I frowned. “My what?”
Aqua blinked. “What did he say?”
I looked between them, still catching up. “He said there are three things we can do. We can locate each other, sense each other’s emotional state, and…” I hesitated. “He said he can regulate my Amoris.”
Aqua tilted her head. “Amoris?”
I looked at Fang. “Which is… what, exactly?”
His answer came without hesitation.
The hunger. The siphoning instinct. The pull toward love.
A chill moved through me.
I swallowed. “The love siphoning,” I said quietly. “The pull.”
Aqua’s expression sharpened, like she understood more than she wanted to.
Fang didn’t care about our curiosity.
We test in order.
Aqua folded her arms. “Fine. Show me.”
Test one is location. You can locate me from a certain distance.
I blinked. “He says we can track each other.”
Aqua’s eyes widened. “Like… actually track?”
“Not exactly like GPS,” I said quickly. “More like… I can feel where he is.”
A city’s span, Fang said. Fifteen miles, give or take.
“…Fifteen miles,” I repeated, impressed despite myself.
Aqua’s lips parted. “That’s far.”
“It’s enough,” I said quietly.
Aqua folded her arms. “Okay. Prove it.”
Fang’s voice came at once.
Close your eyes. Have her move me.
I blinked. “He wants Aqua to move him somewhere around the clearing.”
Aqua looked at Fang, then back at me. “Me?”
“He says anywhere around the edge,” I said, already stepping a few yards away from them. “Just… don’t tell me where.”
Aqua’s mouth twitched faintly.
“Okay,” she said.
She walked over to the stump where Fang rested. For the briefest second, she hesitated—not out of fear, just because this was still the first time she had ever picked him up.
Then she slid her hands under him carefully.
Fang let her.
Calm as ever.
Aqua glanced at me once more, then carried him toward the outer edge of the clearing behind me, while I shut my eyes.
The light disappeared.
At first, all I noticed was the usual stuff.
Wind moving through the trees.
Leaves rustling.
Aqua’s footsteps soft against the dirt.
Then a second set of softer sounds—fabric shifting, a faint brush of scales.
She was setting him down.
A few seconds later, her footsteps moved again, retreating from that spot.
Only then did the thread under my ribs pull.
Subtle.
Steady.
Like something inside me had turned toward true north.
I stood still, breathing through it, letting the sensation sharpen instead of reaching for it too fast.
Fang wasn’t just somewhere out there.
He was there.
A fixed point in my awareness.
A quiet pull near the perimeter, behind me and slightly to the right.
Aqua’s voice called across the clearing.
“Ready?”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
The thread tightened slightly, as if confirming it.
I lifted my hand and pointed without opening my eyes.
“There,” I said.
Silence.
Then Aqua said, “Open them.”
I did.
She stood near the tree line behind me and off to the right, a good distance away.
Fang was draped loosely across her forearms.
Exactly where I had pointed.
Aqua stared at me.
“…Okay,” she said softly. “That’s a lot more real than I was expecting.”
I couldn’t stop staring either.
Because I hadn’t guessed.
I had known.
Fang’s tone didn’t change.
Good. Now test two.
His presence tightened through the bond—subtle, like a coil drawing in.
We sense each other’s emotional state.
I frowned. “I can feel you.”
No. Name it.
My brows pulled together.
Because it wasn’t words I was feeling. Fang’s voice came through my mind, but this came from lower—through the bond under my ribs.
Pressure.
Temperature.
A shift in the air inside my chest.
“You’re… tense,” I said slowly. “Like you’re bracing.”
Fang didn’t deny it.
Yes.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Aqua watched my face like she was trying to see what I was seeing.
“You can feel his emotions?” she asked.
“Not his thoughts,” I said, and my voice went quieter. “Just… state. Like a storm warning.”
Fang’s presence eased—calm returning through the bond like a tide smoothing out.
The pressure in my chest lightened.
“And now you’re calm,” I added, surprised at how obvious it was once I noticed it.
Fang’s approval brushed my mind.
That is the point. You will know when I warn you. You will know when you are pushing too far. Even before I speak.
Aqua’s expression softened.
“This skill could help save you,” she murmured.
Fang answered in my head, blunt.
It must.
I swallowed. “Okay… so how do we test regulation?”
Fang’s voice stayed steady.
We trigger the pull. Then anchor it.
Aqua’s gaze sharpened immediately.
“Use me,” she said softly.
My breath caught. “Aqua—”
“I’m not saying feed,” she clarified fast, voice gentle but firm. “I’m saying we test the urge. Safely. And we see if Fang can help you hold it back.”
Heat climbed up my neck.
The thought of using her as the test made my stomach twist with gratitude and guilt at the same time.
Aqua stepped closer anyway and lifted her hands to my chest—light pressure right over my heartbeat.
Warm.
Steady.
Her eyes held mine.
“If you feel it,” she whispered, “tell me. Don’t hide it.”
My throat went dry.
I nodded once.
Aqua slid her arms around my waist, closing the distance until my body recognized her as close—not just physically, but emotionally.
My arms wrapped around her gently, instinctive and careful.
Aqua looked up at me, calm and sincere.
“I love you,” she said quietly. “And I’m here. Okay?”
My chest clenched.
My face went hot.
I wasn’t used to hearing it like that—soft and certain.
“I—” I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
And then it hit.
Not like a thought.
Like a pull in my ribs.
A subtle tug toward her warmth.
Toward the glow I couldn’t stop noticing when she was this close.
My Beast Core hummed low.
Hungry.
Curious.
My breath turned shallow.
Aqua’s eyes flicked across my face, reading the shift instantly.
“You feel it,” she murmured.
I forced myself to nod.
“I do,” I admitted, voice rough. “And I hate that I do.”
Aqua’s hands stayed on my chest, grounding. “You’re not doing anything wrong by feeling it,” she whispered. “Only by acting without control.”
Fang’s presence tightened through the bond like a coil wrapping around my core.
Then his voice slid into my mind, firm and calm.
Anchor.
A pressure pressed down on the pull—not crushing it, not erasing it—just containing it.
Like a lid settling over boiling water.
My breath eased.
The urge didn’t vanish, but it stopped climbing.
Aqua exhaled slowly, watching my eyes.
“It changed,” she whispered. “Didn’t it?”
I blinked, stunned by how fast the panic faded.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “It… quieted.”
Fang’s voice brushed my mind like a warning with teeth.
Regulation. Not removal.
You will still feel. You will simply not be ruled.
My throat tightened.
Aqua squeezed my chest lightly once—then stepped back, gentle and controlled.
“Good,” she said softly. “Then we train your body next.”
I swallowed hard, still flushed, still shaken by how much relief I felt.
Because part of me wanted to pretend the pull wasn’t there.
And another part of me wanted to feel it again.
Not the panic.
Not the loss of control.
Just the rush of it.
The warmth.
The way her love felt when the hunger brushed against it.
That scared me most of all.
Aqua stepped back, studying me carefully.
“What do you want to test next?” she asked.
I forced a grin like my pride hadn’t just been exposed.
“Speed,” I said. “Reaction time. Throw something at me. Slow at first. Then faster.”
Aqua’s cheeks warmed slightly at my tone.
“You’re very confident today,” she murmured.
I winked. “Can you handle it, Princess?”
Aqua’s eyes widened—and she blushed.
But she lifted her hand anyway.
“Okay,” she said, smiling now. “I’m ready.”
Aqua stayed where she was near the tree line, feet planted, shoulders relaxed like she was about to do yoga instead of throw weapons at me.
A small ice crystal formed above her palm, shimmering.
Then another.
Then a third.
They hovered in the air beside her, delicate and sharp, turning slowly in the sunlight like polished glass.
Aqua shifted her stance near the tree line, one foot sliding back slightly into the dirt. Her shoulders relaxed, but her focus didn’t. The softness in her face didn’t vanish exactly—it just settled into something calmer. Sharper.
More controlled.
I backed up to the opposite end of the clearing until the distance between us felt like a whole arena.
For a second, I just watched her.
Because there was something unfair about how she could look beautiful and dangerous at the same time without even trying.
“Standing still first,” Aqua called, voice calm. “Just dodge. No running.”
“Got it,” I yelled back, rolling my shoulders.
My Beast Core pulsed low under my ribs—steady. Contained.
Fang’s presence sat at the edge of my awareness like a quiet watcher.
Aqua drew in a slow breath.
The air around her cooled.
The floating crystals sharpened at their tips.
“Ready?” she asked.
This time I grinned for real.
“Whenever you are.”
Aqua flicked two fingers forward.
The first ice shard shot toward me with a clean hiss through the air.
Fast enough to make me react.
Slow enough to let me learn.
I tilted my head and let it flash past my cheek.
It cracked into a tree behind me with a sharp snap.
Aqua watched closely. “Good.”
The second came a heartbeat later.
I stepped left.
The third made me duck.
Each movement felt strangely clean, like my body was reading the answer just before the question finished being asked.
My pulse climbed.
Not from fear.
From thrill.
Aqua raised her hand again, and three more crystals spun into being around her palm.
Her eyes glowed faintly Waters-blue now, soft but focused.
“Still comfortable?” she called.
I rolled my shoulders once. “Ask me again when you make it difficult.”
Aqua’s mouth twitched.
“There’s the ego.”
She sent the next two faster.
I twisted my torso, letting one skim past my shoulder, then shifted back just enough for the second to miss my ribs.
Cold kissed the air near my skin.
Close.
Closer than before.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Aqua’s brows lifted. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m winning,” I called back.
Her expression changed then—not mean, not cold, just determined.
“Oh,” she said lightly. “That’s what you think.”
She lifted both hands this time.
The temperature in the clearing dipped.
Six crystals formed in a slow ring around her, glittering blue-white in the sunlight.
My grin widened despite myself.
“Oh, now that’s pretty.”
Aqua ignored that completely.
“Last warning,” she said. “No running yet.”
I spread my arms a little. “I’m right here.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Then moved her hand.
The first two shards came at me in quick succession.
I leaned aside from one and ducked the other.
A third followed so fast I barely had time to twist away.
A fourth clipped the air near my hip, close enough that the cold brushed my shirt.
My heartbeat kicked harder.
Adrenaline flashed hot through my veins.
There it was again—that feeling.
Not the pull.
Not hunger.
Just the sharp, electric thrill of my body keeping up.
Aqua’s next shard came low.
I hopped over it.
Another came high.
I dropped under it.
And when I straightened again, Aqua was staring at me differently now.
Not like she was just helping me train.
Like she was realizing I might actually be able to do this.
I pointed at her with a crooked smile.
“You can go faster.”
Aqua’s lips parted slightly.
Then she shook her head once, like I was impossible.
“You really are confident today.”
I lifted my chin. “You like it.”
That made her blush again.
But instead of answering, she sent another shard flying straight at my chest.
I jerked sideways with a startled laugh.
“Okay,” I called. “That one had attitude.”
Aqua tried not to smile.
Failed.
“Good,” she said. “Again.”
She sent two in quick succession.
The first came for my shoulder.
I twisted hard at the waist and let it whip past me.
The second came lower—too fast to think through—so I hitched my hip back and narrowly cleared it.
Cold brushed the fabric of my shirt.
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.
“I’m getting it!” I called.
Aqua’s mouth twitched. “Don’t get cocky.”
“I’m not cocky,” I lied.
Fang’s voice slid into my mind, dry.
You are cocky.
I didn’t answer him.
Aqua raised her hand again.
This time she didn’t just throw—she watched.
Measured.
Adjusted.
The next shard came straight for my chest.
I knocked it off-line with a sharp sidestep.
Another flashed toward my ribs.
I dropped my shoulder and let it slice past my back instead.
Then another.
Higher.
I bent at the knees and dipped under it.
My feet kept moving without me needing to tell them how.
Short shifts.
Small pivots.
Weight forward. Then back.
The clearing floor pressed up through the soles of my shoes as I adjusted faster and faster, dirt grinding under each turn.
A rhythm built.
A real one this time.
Not chaos.
Not panic.
A pattern.
She fired.
I moved.
She corrected.
I answered.
For one impossible second, it almost felt like sparring.
Like a dance with teeth.
And I was winning.
Then my ego opened its mouth.
“I’m ready to run,” I called across the clearing. “Make it harder.”
Aqua hesitated.
Her eyes flicked toward Fang.
Then back to me.
“You asked,” she said carefully.
“I asked,” I confirmed, grinning.
Aqua drew in a breath and lifted her hand again.
“Okay,” she said. “Move.”
I exploded forward.
Not a jog.
Not even a sprint at first.
A launch.
My back foot dug into the dirt and shoved hard enough that I felt the ground kick back.
The clearing blurred.
Aqua’s first shard tore through the space I’d just vacated.
I planted, cut right, and felt the next one hiss past my left arm.
A third came high.
I ducked under it without slowing.
A fourth shot low toward my thigh.
I drove off my front foot and hopped sideways, landing crooked for half a second before catching myself and pushing off again.
My heart hammered.
Not from strain.
From thrill.
I was moving fast enough now that my body was starting to decide things before my mind did.
See the line. Shift. Cut. Recover.
Aqua’s pace changed.
She stopped aiming where I was.
Started aiming where I was going.
That made me grin even harder.
I zigzagged across the clearing, forcing her to recalculate with every burst of speed.
“Faster!” I yelled, breath bright in my chest.
Aqua’s jaw set.
Her eyes lit brighter—Waters-blue sharpening until they almost glowed.
The next volley came meaner.
Still controlled.
Still training.
But faster, tighter, angled to herd me instead of just test me.
One snapped past my ribs.
I twisted away.
Another came for my shoulder.
I rolled under it and nearly lost my footing coming out of the turn.
A third streaked past so close the cold grazed the side of my neck.
I laughed again—sharper this time.
Half thrill.
Half pressure.
Fang’s attention tightened through the bond.
A warning tugged under my ribs.
Steven—
I ignored it.
I kicked harder into my next turn, dirt spraying behind me.
Aqua answered instantly.
Two shards crossed paths in front of me, forcing me to pull up short and veer left.
I cut wide, regained balance, then shot forward again.
Loose earth shifted under my shoes.
The clearing became motion and snap and breath and cold.
Aqua kept pressing.
I kept answering.
For one blazing stretch of seconds, I felt untouchable.
Then I overcommitted.
I cut left too hard.
My foot came down wrong—
right into a churned-up patch of dirt I’d torn loose on an earlier turn.
Not a branch.
Not a rock.
My own track.
My toe jammed.
My ankle rolled.
My balance vanished all at once.
Fang’s warning tore through the bond, sharp enough to sting.
Watch—
Too late.
The ground slammed into me.
My palms hit first.
Then my elbows.
Then the side of my face.
Dirt burst up into my mouth and nose. Pain shot white-hot across my skin.
For one horrible second, all I could taste was grit and humiliation.
I lay there stunned, lungs dragging air, hearing my own pulse pound in my ears.
Then my mind caught up.
I’d fallen.
Flat-out.
In front of Aqua.
Like an idiot.
Humiliation burned through me so hard it made my vision throb.
Aqua’s footsteps pounded closer.
“Steven!”
“I’m fine!” I snapped, voice rough and ugly before I could stop it.
Not at her.
At myself.
At the fact that I’d finally started feeling powerful—and still got dropped by the ground like I was nothing.
I shoved myself up on shaking arms, breath tearing in and out of my chest.
Something there felt wrong.
Too hot.
Too tight.
Not hunger.
Not the pull.
Something meaner.
Something rising.
“Dang it,” I hissed, and slammed both fists into the dirt.
The moment my knuckles hit—
Heat erupted.
Not under my ribs.
Not buried deep.
On my skin.
Flame burst over my fists in a violent bloom—orange-red and alive, crawling up my fingers and across my knuckles like it had been waiting for an excuse.
My breath vanished.
I stared.
“What the—” My voice cracked. “Fire?”
Shock hit first.
Then panic.
I scrambled backward on my butt, kicking at the dirt, holding my hands away from myself like that would somehow make this less real.
The flames flared higher.
Fed by fear.
Aqua reached me in seconds.
Her eyes went wide.
“Steven—don’t move!”
“I’m not doing this on purpose!” I gasped.
Aqua didn’t hesitate.
She drove both palms forward.
Currena slammed over my fists in a surge of freezing water and ice.
Steam hissed upward.
The fire bucked once—bright, furious—
then sputtered and died beneath the cold.
My hands were left wet and trembling.
I stared at them like they belonged to someone else.
Aqua dropped to her knees in front of me, breathing hard, eyes searching my face.
“Are you hurt?” she asked urgently.
I shook my head too fast.
“No. I— I don’t know.”
Because I didn’t.
My hands weren’t blistering.
My skin wasn’t blackened.
But it still felt like the heat was there somehow—like my nerves remembered it even after the flames were gone.
My chest kept hammering.
Too fast.
Too hard.
The whole clearing looked edged in glass.
Every sound felt too sharp.
Aqua’s gaze flicked down to my hands again.
Then back to my face.
Her voice dropped, careful now. “Steven… that was fire.”
“I know,” I whispered.
The words came out thin.
Unsteady.
Because saying it made it real.
I had seen it.
Felt it.
Watched it crawl over my own skin like it belonged there.
Fang’s presence tightened through the bond.
Not panic.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Then his voice entered my mind—quiet, certain, final.
Incinda.
I blinked hard.
“Incinda?”
Aqua’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What did he say?”
I swallowed.
My mouth still tasted like dirt.
“He called it Incinda,” I said, forcing the words out. “I believe it is the… fire branch.”
Aqua went still.
Not frozen.
Just very, very focused.
“Branch,” she echoed. “So you have more than Amoris.”
I looked back at my hands.
Water dripped from my knuckles.
My fingers trembled once, then curled inward like they were trying to remember what they’d just done.
“Is that possible?” I asked.
I hated how small my voice sounded.
Fang answered immediately.
Only a chosen few carry both. It is rare now.
I repeated it out loud for Aqua, because she deserved to hear every part of this.
“He says only a few Salvatores have both,” I said. “It’s rare.”
Aqua’s stare stayed fixed on my hands.
“And Incinda,” she said quietly, like testing the name against the air.
Fang’s presence pressed in again, heavier this time.
Not just naming.
Explaining.
Amoris is hunger.
The words landed low in me.
Deep.
Familiar.
Then—
Incinda is what happens when hunger meets emotion.
My stomach turned.
Because suddenly the sequence made too much sense.
The fall.
The humiliation.
The spike of rage.
The heat that had answered it.
Not random.
Not separate.
Connected.
Aqua’s hand reached for my wrist slowly this time, giving me room to pull away if I needed it.
I didn’t.
Her fingers settled lightly against my skin.
Cool.
Steady.
Grounding.
“We stop for now,” she said firmly. “We breathe. We cool down.”
I nodded once, throat tight.
Because she was right.
Because stopping was the smart thing.
Because I should have been shaken enough not to want any part of this again.
But under the fear—under the leftover embarrassment, under the shock of seeing fire pour out of my own hands—something darker still flickered.
Not warmth this time.
Not the pull.
Power.
Raw.
Violent.
New.
And the part that made my stomach knot was how fast some piece of me had reached for it.
Fang coiled closer at the edge of my awareness, and I felt his emotion move through the bond under my ribs.
Caution.
Warning.
Control held tight.
Good, he murmured. Now you understand the danger.
I swallowed hard.
But even then—even sitting in the dirt, hands wet, chest still pounding—a new thought had already started taking shape.
Quiet.
Relentless.
If that kind of power was inside me…
Then I couldn’t afford to stay weak.