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With just a bit of focus, I shape them with my mind. There’s no need to gesture as they bend and twist, forming archways that curl together and towers that stretch high.

The water doesn’t merely obey. It anticipates.

Normally, I coax water to my will. But now…the element feels like an extension of my soul. I can sense every molecule, every ripple. The entire body of water vibrates in harmony with my heartbeat.

None of this should be possible.

The thought cuts through my mind, breaking my concentration. Cracks appear in the liquid architecture before me, spreading like spider webs across the magnificent structure.

Too late, I try to hold it together, to reinforce the failing points.

The entire creation collapses with a thunderous splash, and water rains down around me. Pacing in a tight circle, I drag in air that fills my lungs but does nothing to cool the frustration flooding through me. My legs move in swift, angry strides that leave wet footprints on the strange ethereal ground.

“Fuck.”

This is both simpler and harder than anything I’ve ever done. The power is so easy to handle, so long as my focus doesn’t waver. Once that happens, everything goes to shit.

I wipe spray from my face.

Rivlan approaches, cups a hand around the back of my neck, and tugs me closer so our heads are bent together. “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Despite my frustration, a reluctant grin tugs at my mouth. “And you’re observant.”

“Point proven.” His fluid features shift into a fierce frown. “Do not be cocky. Be confident.” His fingers tighten on my neck, and I psyche myself up for a god’s version of a pep talk. “Cocky craves power. Confidence understands that power is already there. Use it. Be calm. Be confident. Accept who you are now.”

He releases me and steps back. My forehead is dry. The water rejoined Rivlan, leaving not even a trace of moisture behind.

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. Confidence has never been a problem. Then again, I’ve never trained with a god before.

Rivlan’s form gains definition as he straightens. Muscles crafted from currents run under translucent skin. His color changes with his direction and even his mood. He wears a garment resembling a long vest that reaches past his knees and loose pants that bag around tightly cuffed ankles. His feet are bare.

He twirls his pointer finger. “Again. Stop thinking like a mortal. Don’t ask the water to obey. Know that it has no choice and already is.”

I snort. “Kind of difficult when I am a mortal.”

Or at least, I was.

Honestly, that part’s freaky as fuck. I don’t feel any different than I did yesterday.

Holding my hands up, I check for any changes. I wiggle my toes in my boots but can’t feel anything between them.

“Are you seriously examining yourself as if you might change colors? You’re trying too hard. Just be yourself, and the rest will come naturally.” With a scoff, the water deity turns away, the dark strands of his hair flinging over his shoulder.

Irritation swells at his assessment, but I nod, considering his words. “Okay.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been approaching this all wrong, thinking like a soldier giving orders and expecting resistance.

That’s not how my relationship with water works. Not anymore. Water isn’t my subordinate but a part of me. My arms move without conscious commands. Water magic should now function the same way.

I close my eyes to center myself.

The sensation hits differently this time. It’s an acknowledgement of what already exists rather than a gathering of power. My breath slows. My pulse steadies. I open my eyes and stretch out my power.

The water rises again. Only this time, the action is effortless.

Structures emerge from the surface. Towers, bridges, and archways interlock in patterns that I envision with my mind. The liquid bends and defies gravity yet holds its form with perfect stability.

Light refracts through the structures, casting rainbows across my skin and the strange ground beneath my feet.