Rhea: Fire of the Last Sea Kingdom

Stone

From a distance, the stone looked small and powerless, but up close, the sides glimmered with intricacy. In the now-polished jet, Rhea had chiseled eight Stellarian runes, taking days to work them into a finished spell. Her hand trembled. She forced every thought of dropping the stone out of her head.

They all see me. She wanted to run out of the room; there were too many people there. She had counted one hundred and nineteen people as they walked in, and that was before she stopped counting.

"When we s-summon f-f..." she started.

A girl laughed, but thankfully Millina Turner elbowed the giggler in the ribs, not without one of the craft-bearers noticing too. Everyone looked straight ahead, not wanting a punishment.

"When we summon fire," Rhea continued. "We work magic from the elements around us, as the way of Niyalsay teaches us. This stone does the same, but it creates fire from..."

Her hand shook, and she could feel the weight of the stone growing. Rhea could see a thorny strand of green protective magic slithering across the side. Lady Nyallostos had helped her with that; otherwise, she might burn herself. She continued to speak:

"This creates fire from within," said Rhea.

The youngest girls still smiled, not fully understanding what Rhea meant, but the teenage girls knew. A few crossed their arms.

No Stellarian sister, save the Grand Matron, had been able to harness personal magic for centuries. The girls could tell why Lady Nyallostos was excited, but the other craft-bearers shook their heads... This was too dangerous for a grown woman, let alone a teenage girl.

Rhea closed her eyes and summoned every thought of fire she could imagine, just as she had practiced at home. First a spark, and then a dream of flame dancing in the forge. She pictured every type of fire imaginable, every flame that could be used to create, yet she had made one mistake: in her nervousness, Rhea had forgotten to bandage her hand.

"Wait!" shouted Lady Nyallostos, but it was too late.

Rhea's stone began to glow, but without guidance, the fire began to spread around her arm. A sliver of protective magic flashed around her, and disappeared, deflecting the flame to a banner just a few steps away, causing it to ignite. 

The flames climbed and climbed, up the banner, twisting around the column nearby. Rhea opened her eyes. An orange glow filled the room. 

"Stop!" she said, forgetting the right words. "S-stop." She had lit the Great Hall on fire.

The orphans at the very front screamed, but craft-bearers soon calmed them. It was ultimately a small fire. Still Rhea insisted on stopping it herself.

Despite her efforts, the commands did nothing. The purple and gold tapestry began to blacken and curl, all color leaving it. The hall filled with smoke, and the air smelled of burnt cloth. One of the eldest women in the back left the hall, displeased, not before letting her thoughts be known:

"Clean it up, Cala," the woman said to Lady Nyallostos. 

Rhea tried to think of anything she could do to stop it. She could fix it - she was sure. But before she could act, Lady Nyallostos ran forward and climbed onto the stage, planting her feet and reaching her right arm back behind her. 

In a quick twist of her body, she flicked her fingers forward.

A glowing green whip snaked past the fire from Lady Nyallostos's hand, cutting the banner down, and then recoiling backward before disappearing completely. Rhea looked away, grabbing the side of her face.