My Infinite System.

Lucy stood on the dry, pale soil, her boots kicking up little puffs of dust. She closed her eyes, trying to find that place inside herself again. The one that had woken up when the fake dragon king had lunged for Lucian.

"Feel for the current," Alistair said, his voice calm beside her. "Don't grab at it. Just know it's there."

She tried. She focused until her head hurt, searching for the surge of power that had once felt so effortless. A flicker of heat sparked in her chest, and for a second, the air around her hands shimmered. Then it was gone, snuffed out like a candle.

She let out a sharp breath, her shoulders slumping. "Nothing. It's not working."

"Again," he said, simple and steady.

She tried again. And again. For what felt like hours, she reached for that power, only to have it slip away each time. The sun climbed higher, baking the ground. Her shirt stuck to her back with sweat.

Finally, her knees gave out. She didn't crash, just sank down onto the warm earth, too tired for frustration, just empty. "I can't do it. I did it before without even thinking. Now that I'm trying... it's like trying to catch smoke."

Alistair knelt in front of her, his movements slow and easy. He didn't touch her, just gave her space.

"You know," he began, his gaze drifting to the horizon, "my father was the leader of our people. And I was the son who couldn't shift to save his life."

Lucy looked up, skeptical. "You?"

A faint smile touched his mouth. "Me. The others... it came to them like breathing. For me, it was like trying to move a mountain with my bare hands. I'd stand there for hours, straining until I saw spots. Nothing."

He looked back at her, his eyes clear. "My father never showed his disappointment. Not once. He'd find me after I'd failed—again—and he'd tell me the same thing. 'The strongest roots take the longest to grow.' He never gave up on me. And I will never give up on you."

The conviction in his voice was solid, a rock in a river. Some of the tightness in Lucy's chest eased.

"You're not untalented," he said. "You just haven't found your key. The thing that turns the lock." He leaned forward a little. "So think. That first time, when it happened... what was the feeling? Not the anger. The thing underneath."

Lucy didn't have to search for the memory. It was right there, bright and sharp.

"It was Lucian," she said softly. "That thing was going to kill him. I saw it, and I just... knew I had to stop it. I had to be strong enough. It was the will to protect him."

For a heartbeat, Alistair was perfectly still. Then he turned his head, looking out across the plains as if studying the weather. Inside, his mind went cold. The will to protect. It was the purest fuel for their kind, and the most volatile. It anchored her to a mortal, to a weakness that could be exploited. This was a problem. A deep one.

He made sure his face was calm when he turned back. "That's a powerful reason," he said, his voice even. "Perhaps the most powerful. But if it only wakes when he's in danger, you become a weapon that only fires when the enemy is already at the gate. We need to make that will into something you carry, not just something that carries you."

He stood and offered his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Come with me," he said.

He led her across the cracked earth to a place where the ground dipped into a natural, stone-lined bowl. In its center was a pool of water so still it looked like glass.

"The Echo Basin," he said. "A good place to listen."

He gestured for her to sit at the water's edge. "Protection is a clean urge. It points away from you. That's why it worked. But we need to widen the circle. It can't just be about saving one person in one moment. It has to be about building a world where they don't need saving."

"How?" Lucy asked, staring into the reflective water.

"By making that feeling a part of your breath," he said, sitting beside her. "Not a storm you wait for, but the weather you live in. Right now, you're trying to shout at the power. I want you to try humming instead."

She gave him a confused look.

"Think of Lucian. Not in danger. Just... think of him. The version of him you want to keep safe. The version of your team that deserves a future. Hold that picture. Not as a fear, but as a fact. Then see if the power answers that."

Lucy closed her eyes. She let the image of her brother form in her mind—not the moment of panic, but his stubborn face, his determined eyes. She thought of the family she'd built with the others. She held onto the simple, fierce need for them to be okay.

For a long time, nothing happened. Then, a warmth began to glow in her core, gentle and steady, like a banked fire. It didn't roar to life, but it didn't flicker out. It just was.

She opened her eyes. The world seemed sharper, the colors more vivid. She hadn't transformed, not even close. But for the first time since that fight, she felt the potential wasn't a locked door, but a path she was just starting to walk.

Alistair watched her, reading the subtle shift in her posture. "There," he said, his voice soft with approval. "You see? It's not about the dragon. It's about the world you want to live in when the dragon is gone."

He stood, brushing the dust from his pants. "We'll stop for today. That's enough."

As they walked back toward their temporary shelter, the vast sky stretching above them, Lucy felt a quiet certainty settle in her bones. The journey was far from over, but she was no longer standing at the starting line, staring at a wall. She had taken the first step.

And Alistair, walking silently beside her, knew the real work was just beginning. The path of protection was a noble one, but it was a road paved with impossible choices. He would have to prepare her for them. But for today, the small, steady glow of her power was victory enough.