Still refusing to acknowledge her, Alex kept his eyes steadfastly forward, never even glancing at her. They shifted from the strong, deliberate forms of the Terra Sequence into the light, effortless ones of the Atmospheric Sequence. Next came the impossibly quick changes of the Infernos, moving through the graceful reaches of the Oceanics, before finally arriving at the Elemental Sequence. The most taxing of them all, the Elemental Sequence tested every Gifted physical attribute—it required strength and agility, speed and stealth.
Allyra felt her muscles start to tire, but she pushed herself to keep going, to mold her body into each form. If Alex felt any strain, he didn’t show it. Upon finishing the last form of the Elemental Sequence, he slipped back into the first of the Terra Sequence.
Mandla stopped. “I think that’s enough for one day,” he declared.
Alex ignored him.
Mandla shook his head and sighed. “Alex,” he said softly. “Repeating the Sequence over and over isn’t going to chase away whatever you’re seeing. All you’re doing is exhausting yourself, and we both know that whatever it is will only follow you into your dreams.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you, that your Gift is less a gift than a burden, but remember that I’m your friend. I will always be by your side. Please—just talk to me.”
At Mandla’s words, Alex stumbled uncharacteristically over the transition between two forms, but he recovered himself and continued, never pausing and studiously avoiding meeting Mandla in the eye.
Mandla waited, a minute passed, then five, then ten. He smiled grimly, disappointed, but refusing to show it. “Well, I’m feeling a little tired, so…”
And when Alex still refused to speak, Mandla nodded and turned, walking from the room, the small, grim smile never leaving his face.
As the door swung closed behind Mandla, Alex’s jaw tightened. It was barely noticeable and was gone between one second and the next. But she knew him well enough to understand that the silence and expressionless mask were just tools he was using to disguise his fear. He was terrified, but he refused to show it even to his closest friend. This Alex, or the one he would become later, the one she knew so well—they were one and the same. He would always try to hide his fear and anxiety in some misguided attempt to protect the ones he loved. And in doing so, he took an untold burden upon his shoulders.
Allyra stilled and turned to Alex. “You should talk to him,” she said gently. “Mandla loves you, he just wants to help you.”
Still, Alex refused to acknowledge her presence. One form to the next, he retreated into the Sequence. And as much as Allyra wanted to persist, she understood his fear. She knew what it felt like to see things that weren’t really there, to wonder if she was losing her mind. Alex had helped her when she had been lost and afraid. He had been gentle and understanding. Now, it was her turn to return the favor.
She stepped back into her spot beside Alex and silently followed him back into the Sequence. Minutes turned to hours, and still they moved, form after form, never hesitating, never faltering.
By the time Alex finally spoke, Allyra had long lost track of the number of hours that had passed.
“You’re over-extending between forms six and seven in the Inferno Sequence,” he said abruptly, not looking at her and not pausing in his movement.
Also without breaking the flow of the Sequence, she raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re talking to me,” she said, her voice a little breathless with exertion.
“If you insist on being here, you might as well do it correctly,” he snapped.
Finally, she stopped and turned to him. “I do insist,” she said with a grin. “And if I’m doing it wrong, then show me how to do it correctly.”
Slowly, he drew to a stop, but still his gaze remained fixed on some point in front of him. For a second, Allyra wondered if he might go back to ignoring her. But then he took a deep breath and took up the sixth form of the Inferno Sequence.
“The Inferno Sequence is about speed. It demands small, accurate, and economical movements,” he said, his voice deliberately calm and level.
He switched to the seventh form. “You are over-reaching on the sixth form, putting your upper body out of position. It means you are unbalanced and slow getting into the seventh form, and it takes you at least five forms before you’ve regained the correct rhythm.”
His explanation was precise and to the point—apparently always a natural at teaching. Allyra smiled and nodded, picking up the sixth form and transitioned into the seventh, taking care not to over-extend her arms. Immediately, she felt an improvement, and the transition was more effortless and her rhythm more graceful.
“Better,” he said, “but not perfect.”
So, he had always been a demanding teacher.
Dropping back into the first form of the Inferno Sequence, he said, “Again.”
Much later, after putting her through the Inferno Sequence at least eight more times, Alex turned to her. She was gratified to see that he too had broken a sweat, showing he was human after all.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Allyra.”
“Just Allyra?”
“Someone warned me once that it’s better not to know too much about the future,” she replied carefully.
“Sound advice—I wish I
