"Wait!" Ulric holds his hands up and takes a step back from me. "Are ya sure this won't hurt?"

I look at Kyron, who is leaning back in his chair at the dining room table. His arms are folded over his chest and an amused smirk pulls at his lips as he gives a shrug. He is the one who suggested I try out the stone on Ulric. I'm questioning whether he did it to ensure I am prepared or for entertainment during our meager meal.

This really should have been an easy task. What Cyffred wouldn't want to bring to life the power that has always been dormant inside of them? Most would have jumped at this opportunity, but Ulric's fear of the unknown pain is getting the better of him.

I sigh and plop down in the chair next to Terro. "I don't know. I didn't feel anything when it happened to me. Then again, I can wield the stone."

Greer fills her empty bowl with a second helping of stew and grumbles, "Suck it up, Ulric."

"I don't see you offering to be Raelle's test subject," Ulric shoots back, pacing between the small kitchen and the round table set for six.

"That's because you are the only Cyffred here," Terro says, holding out his hand where a small twister spins in his palm.

Ashavee slides out of her chair and steps into Ulric's path. She places a hand on his shoulder and says, "The first time I shifted, it felt like every single one of my bones were snapping in two."

"Your story isn't helping matters, m'eudail," Ulric says in a grim tone.

She places a finger to his lips. "But. The pain of the initial shift was worth it. My gift is a part of me. It gives me strength and confidence. I'm better because I know how to tap into it and bend it to my will. I have no doubt that it will be the same for you."

"My dear," Ulric says out of nowhere.

Ashavee furrows her brow and says, "What?"

"M'eudail. In the old language, it means my dear."

Kyron and Terro look at each other across the table and both of them press their knuckles to their lips to stop their laughter. I nudge Terro with my elbow and shoot Kyron a death glare as I mouth behave to them. They sink into their seats, but neither of them pulls it together. They may be deadly soldiers on the battlefield, but deep down, they can have the maturity level of teenagers.

"I'm trying to eat here. I'd appreciate it if the two of you could keep the nauseatingly sweet shit away from the dinner table," Greer says before taking another bite of the steaming broth.

Ashavee dips her head to hide her reddening cheeks, but Ulric has no shame. He kisses her knuckles and releases her hand before turning to me. "Go on, let's see if the stone works on me."

I stand and am met with an onslaught of nerves. It wasn't so bad when I knew Ulric had reservations about the Imperium, too. Now that he is all in with trying, I'm terrified that something will go wrong. If I can't pull this off, our people are at a great disadvantage against the Allaji. But if it works, we can combat them with the elements everyone is gifted. Granted, most Cyffred will not have perfect rein on their power, but at least it is something in a war we are currently slated to lose.

Ulric and I stand face to face, and I let a fraction of my fear show when I say, "I hope this works."

"Me too, nanny goat."

I grip the Imperium where it hangs around my neck and lift my other hand. At first, I aim to place my palm on his bald head, but something urges me to touch the center of his chest. Ulric places his hand over mine, and we wait while holding our breaths. I don't know what I expect—a pull, a push, a zap of lightning. What I didn't think would happen was nothing.

"Do you feel something?" I ask.

Ulric gives me a sad attempt at a smile and says, "No."

"Shit," I step away and shake out my hand like something is clogged inside of it. But of course, nothing is wrong with the flow of energy. The Imperium works. I took away Nikko and the other shifters gifts, and my once dormant power can now form icicles in a matter of seconds. The problem is me. I don't understand how this power works. One time I was desperate and the other, it was pure luck that my gift sparked to life.

I pace and press my fingers into the corners of my eyes, hoping to ease the headache coming on and stop tears from streaming down my face. The nervous path I'm carving into the cottage floor comes to an abrupt stop when I crash into the hard chest of my parah.

With my frustration written on my face, I look up at him and say, "I don't know what's wrong."

Kyron brushes his knuckles down the side of my face and pauses to glide his thumb over my bottom lip. He studies me like I'm something precious, a rare phenomenon he will never get to witness again. And I see it there, in his eyes, he has complete faith in me.

"You didn't master the Eporri without some practice," he says, moving down my neck and placing the Imperium in his palm.

"We don't have time for me to figure it out."

He hums in agreement. That strategic mind of his is almost noisy as it contemplates all the possibilities. Even in the most impossible of situations, Kyron can find a solution. And not once have I witnessed him succumbing to what others would find inconceivable. This time is no different. His eyes light up like he sees the answer in clear writing.

Gripping my shoulders, he steers me toward Ulric again. "Put your hands on him."

I can't help the snort of laughter that erupts from me as I look back at him. "Words I never thought I'd hear you say."

He cracks a smile. "You'll never hear them again from my mouth. Now, go on."

I place my palm on Ulric's chest and stifle down the nauseous feeling that this might not work.

"Relax," Kyron says against my ear. He presses the front of his body to my back, offering himself as a steady pillar for me to lean against. "Remember how you used to say that my gift called to you? I want you to focus on that feeling, but instead of the power calling to you, I want you to call to it. Reach inside Ulric and find where his gift is sleeping."

I nod and close my eyes, picturing myself stepping inside my friend's body. I wander past bones and muscles and veins. My journey leads me to the depths of his being—his heart, his soul. But it is only my imagination; I feel nothing.

I shake my head and release an exasperated breath.

Kyron slides his hand down my arm and rests it over mine on Ulric's chest. He clasps our other hands together and brings them to the Imperium. His voice is a tranquil rumble against my ear as he says, "Call to it, Raelle."

I'm not sure what that means. Does he want me to coo at it until it prances over to me like a tiny pet? Or... My chest tightens and I jerk forward as if yanked by a leash. I grasp on to that feeling and reel in the line. Ulric's gift doesn't seem to budge, but the connection I've found pulls me toward it.

Kyron kisses my temple. "That's it. Keep going."

I gather the line faster and faster until I'm brought to a halt. Curled up inside of Ulric is a ball of energy. It glows purple and pulsates like it is barely breathing.

"I found it," I whisper, as if I might scare his power away.

"Coax it awake. Gently run your fingertips over it and let it know that it is alright to come out and play."

I imagine stroking the energy, and it sizzles to life. The snap of electricity is very real. Ulric jerks under the shock, and I don't pull away until the purple orb consumes the entirety of his being.

Opening my eyes, I meet my friend's surprised expression. "You're an Electro," I say with matching astonishment.

"Perfect," Terro sardonically states.

"Of all the gifts the Statera could give a man-child," Greer grumbles.

Ashavee steps forward and crosses her arms over her chest. "I'd say it's fitting."

I smile up at him and find pure gratitude in his gaze. "Me too."

Ulric taps his finger to Kyron's hand resting over mine on his chest. An electric snap crackles in the silence, and Kyron rips his hand away with a hiss.

"Damn, that's powerful!" He glares at Ulric while rubbing the red mark just under his middle finger. "I agree with Greer and Terro. The Statera made a terrible choice."

Ulric's boisterous laughter fills the cottage. He is like a child who has been gifted the toy he has longed for since he can remember. He holds his arms out and tilts his head back, saying, "Let the Allaji king come for me. I'm ready to give him a taste of the torture he inflicted upon me and the other Cyffred."

I understand Ulric's need for vengeance. The wounds Zek imposed are not only scars on our bodies but gaping lesions that still bleed within our souls. Now, we have the chance to meet him and his forces as equals on the battlefield. Every Cyffred that wants it will have the power to make Zek pay for every atrocity he has committed against Pliris.