Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Solaris walked toward one of the massive, reinforced targets at the far end of the yard. "Your instructors have probably told you to reduce your output."

"All the time," Frieda admitted, trailing a few paces behind her.

"That is not enough," Solaris said, stopping beside the charred, heavy dummy. She turned to face the younger girl. "If a person cannot control ten percent of their power, reducing them from one hundred to fifty only gives them a smaller disaster."

She then added. "Maybe reduction causes lesser damage. But it only means even more damage when you’re eventually required to use more power. And truthfully, you will be required. A spark will not be enough to kill a beast or a demon."

Frieda went quiet at the undeniable logic of the statement. Solaris looked at her steadily, her golden eyes unwavering. "Today, you are not going to attack anything."

Frieda glanced at the imposing targets, momentarily confused. "Then what am I doing?"

"Learning how to create one flame properly."

Frieda almost laughed, assuming it was a joke, but Solaris did not even crack a smile. Chiding herself, Frieda swallowed the sound and stood at attention.

Solaris held up one solitary finger. "One flame. No larger than this." She formed a tiny bead of Phoenixfire above the fingertip, the white-gold speck barely moving as it hovered perfectly in place. "Hold it for one minute."

Frieda summoned her own magic, but the moment the dragonfire appeared, it bloomed far too large. Solaris shook her head in disapproval.

Frieda hastily tried to reduce it, but the sudden restriction choked the magic; the flame flickered weakly and nearly disappeared altogether.

"Again," Solaris ordered.

Frieda tried once more, focusing harder on the internal draw of her Grace. The flame formed smaller this time, but it only managed to hold its shape for three seconds before swelling out of proportion.

"Again."

By the fifth attempt, Frieda’s brows had begun to crease in frustration. By the tenth, a fine layer of sweat collected along her hairline in the afternoon heat. Solaris did not move from where she stood, acting as an immovable critic of every subtle flaw. "Your shoulders are tightening," she observed.

Frieda exhaled a sharp breath. "I’m trying to keep it still."

"That is why it keeps growing," Solaris replied evenly.

Frieda looked at her, baffled by the contradiction. Solaris stepped closer and gently but firmly placed two fingers against the inside of Frieda’s forearm, right over the pulsing vein of magic. "You are squeezing the Grace through your channels."

Frieda frowned, looking down at the older woman’s hand. "If I don’t, it comes out too fast."

"Because you only know two settings," Solaris said bluntly. "Suppress or release."

That assessment landed harder than Frieda expected, striking at the very core of all her struggles over the past months.

Solaris moved her fingers higher along the arm, applying a light pressure to guide Frieda’s awareness. "Feel the channel. Do not push."

Frieda closed her eyes, trying to sense the raw flow of magic without forcefully dragging it to the surface. She let go of the tension in her arm, and immediately, the fire vanished from her palm.

"Good," Solaris said.

Frieda opened her eyes in disbelief. "It went out."

"I know."

"How is that good?"

"It is good because you stopped forcing it." Solaris stepped back, removing her hand. "Now do it again without trying to make the flame survive."

Frieda stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "That sounds backwards."

"You have to learn to trust your tutor," Solaris gave her a blank gaze.

Frieda froze, realizing once more who she was talking to. "Sorry," she whimpered, then realized that she shouldn’t have.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned her magic again. This time, Frieda deliberately relaxed, letting the Grace move naturally through her veins instead of ruthlessly driving it outward.

The flame formed small and unsteady, flickering weakly in the air, but it was undeniably smaller and less violent than any of her previous attempts. Solaris watched the golden lines of magic illuminating Frieda’s channels beneath her skin.

"Better."

Encouraged by the faint praise, Frieda’s eyes widened slightly, breaking her concentration. Instantly, the flame surged and grew.

"You reacted," Solaris immediately pointed out.

"I saw it moving," Frieda defended herself quickly.

"And panicked."

"I didn’t panic."

"Your channels say otherwise, Frieda," Solaris scolded.

Defeated, Frieda closed her hand into a fist, letting the rebellious flame disappear entirely. Solaris crossed her arms, adopting a lecturing stance.

"This is what happens when you fight. You see the fire becoming unstable, so you become afraid of what it might do. That fear makes you instinctively clamp down on the channels. But dragonfire does not like being trapped. The pressure builds, and then you are forced to release it more violently than you intended."

Frieda’s face changed as she recognized the exact sensation Solaris was describing.

"Then you see the larger flame and become even more afraid," Solaris continued mercilessly. "The cycle repeats until something eventually explodes."

The memory of the shattering arena barrier flashed vividly through Frieda’s mind, and she looked away, ashamed. Solaris, however, did not soften the explanation to spare her feelings.

"You are not losing control because your fire is stronger than you. You are losing control because you keep fighting it even after it has already begun moving."

Frieda swallowed the lump forming in her throat, forcing herself to meet Solaris’s gaze again. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Lead it."

Solaris lifted her hand, and the brilliant Phoenixfire appeared once again, hovering obediently above her palm. "Fire follows the path you give it. Dragonfire wants movement, so give it movement. Do not order it to stop being what it is." She moved a single finger, and the white-gold fire stretched out into a perfectly straight, narrow line.

With another fluid movement, she bent the streak of flame seamlessly around her wrist like a glowing bracelet. "It wants force. Give the force direction."

With a flick of her wrist, Solaris turned her hand and sent the flame shooting upward into the air in a tight, thin spiral. "It wants expansion. Decide where it expands before it even leaves you."

At her silent command, the soaring flame opened outward into a small, perfect ring before vanishing into nothingness.

Frieda stared at the empty air where the fire had been, a profound realization settling over her. "I’ve always been trying to make it smaller."

"Yes."

"Instead of making it go somewhere."

"Yes," Solaris confirmed softly.

Solaris pointed toward the hard stone of the training ground. "Sit."

Frieda obediently lowered herself onto the floor, crossing her legs as Solaris sat gracefully opposite her. "Hands on your knees," Solaris instructed. Frieda did as she was told, resting her palms against her trousers. "Close your eyes."

Once Frieda shut her eyes, Solaris activated her Phoenix Eye again, the golden light radiating slightly even through Frieda’s closed eyelids. "Draw Grace through your right arm. Do not create fire."

Frieda took a deep breath, visualizing the energy within her, and let the Grace begin to move.

"Slow down," Solaris murmured.

She reigned in the flow, trying to pull back the surging energy.

"Too much."

Adjusting carefully, Frieda reduced the flow to a steady, quiet hum.

"Now separate heat from ignition."

Frieda’s brow tightened in confusion, the task feeling entirely foreign to her instincts. "I don’t know how."

"You do," Solaris assured her calmly. "You simply never needed to think about it." She reached out and placed one hand lightly against Frieda’s wrist, offering a physical anchor for her concentration. "Heat first."

Frieda concentrated fiercely, focusing solely on the temperature. Her palm slowly warmed.

"No fire," Solaris warned as the warmth began to increase rapidly, threatening to spark. "Hold it right there."

Frieda held the invisible energy in place. For ten seconds, she maintained the delicate balance. Then twenty. The sheer effort of restraining the ignition without stifling the heat caused her hand to begin shaking violently.

"Relax your fingers," Solaris commanded softly.

The moment Frieda let the tension bleed out of her hand, the warmth stabilized, settling into a comforting, steady glow beneath her skin. Solaris finally removed her guiding hand. "Now release the heat."

Frieda let the energy fade back into the surrounding air, opening her eyes with a long exhale. "That felt..."