Chapter 9: channeling
Olivia stood in the center, her light brown, wavy bob swaying slightly, her hazel eyes focused as she held out her palm.
Lor leaned against a dusty desk, his black hair falling over his hazel eyes, his grin subtle but ever-present.
The twerking ritual had been a success—Olivia's flushed face and shaking legs proved it—but now it was time to deliver on his "Guiding Light" promise.
"Create the fire which you had used earlier," Lor said, his voice calm but authoritative, as if channeling some ancient wisdom.
Olivia nodded, her brow furrowing.
She muttered a quick incantation, and a small flame flickered to life in her palm, its orange glow weak and wavering.
She glanced at Lor, her hazel eyes hopeful, but he shook his head, his expression critical.
"It's too dim," he said, stepping closer, his eyes flicking over her form, noting the way her tight shirt shifted as she adjusted her stance. "You're using too much mana for a weak result. Focus it tighter. Imagine squeezing the mana into a tiny point, like threading a needle."
Olivia frowned, her cheeks flushing slightly from the earlier embarrassment of the ritual.
She tried again, her palm glowing as the flame brightened, its heat intensifying, though it still flickered unsteadily.
Lor nodded, his voice encouraging but precise.