Page 355 - Fourth Wing

…

December turns to January.

Ground. Shield. Imagine closing your door. Build your wall. Sense who
and what has access around you. Trace the bond to your dragon. Dragons in

my case. Build a second entrance—a window—into the archive of my

power for Andarna’s golden energy. Block those bonds as far as you can.
Visualize.

Imagine a knot of power—not too intricate; no one’s ready for that yet—
in front of you, then untangle it. Unlock the door.

Visualize.

Keep one foot firmly grounded at all times. You’re useless unless you’re
connected to your power, and you’re dangerous if you can’t contain it.

There is only the in-between that makes you a great rider.

Envision your power like a hand, gripping that pencil and bringing it
toward you. Pick it up. No. Not like that. Try again. No, again.

VISUALIZE.

I study for tests. I prep for flights. I lift weights with Imogen. I wonder
how long Xaden is going to make me put in hours on the mat with

Rhiannon. I win my first challenge, earning a dagger from a girl in Second
Wing. But the most exhausting assignment is spending endless hours in the

archive of my mind, learning which door is Tairn’s and which belongs to

Andarna, then working diligently to separate the two.
It turns out that while my power might flow from my dragons, the ability

to control it comes from my own exertion, and there are nights I fall into
bed, plunging into sleep before I even remove my boots.

By the end of the second week in January, I’m not only pissed that Xaden

hasn’t bothered to talk to me about that kiss but exhausted, and that’s
without a signet power manifesting, draining my energy to control it.

Ridoc can wield ice, which might be a more common signet, but it’s

impressive to see.