Page 62 of Remnants
Jackson uses his gift to lift himself to stand on the desk. His gaze sweeps over the people in the room, taking them in for a second with a small smile. He pulls a few throwing knives free and tosses them up. Aiden’s face tightens, and I can feel Kellan and Dane tense on either side of me. What had he said about his training with Thorne? The wind master had tried to kill him as his training?
The knives flip and twirl in the air above his palm. It’s like the room’s holding its breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next.
“If I’ve learned anything about gifts in general, it’s that there’sprobably more to it than you think,” he muses, his voice carrying and echoing through the room even though he’s speaking as he normally does.
Murmuring ripples through a small group to the side. I’d bet they’re Pits fighters. Guild members wouldn’t interrupt him.
Jackson smiles and directs his attention to them. “Mm…how did you know you have a gift?” he prompts the group as if he’d heard what they said. “Did something happen one day? And did you practice that one skill, accepting it as the end-all, be-all, of your gift?” He waits a beat before he continues, “Or did you try different things? Did you test your limits so you know exactly what you can do and how much? And then find ways to break past them?”
Kellan shifts at my side, his face drawn and serious for a change as he watches and listens.
“No one can tell you what your gift is. It’s up to you to figure that out.” Jackson flips his hand down, and the knives burrow into the desk at his feet. He waves his hand, and a strong breeze whips around us and then dies out.
“How are we supposed to break past its limit?” someone calls out.
“Mine only works for so long,” another person adds.
Jackson nods, stuffing his hands back into his kangaroo pocket. “Keep your gift active every day. Get creative. Stop overthinking steps and feel it. But first”—he bends and tugs a knife from the desk, flipping it between the fingers of one hand— “you need to work on your physical stamina.” He points the tip of the blade at the crowd. “Gifts don’t run out. Your body does. Your body will shut your gift down to protect itself and give it time to recover. Exerciseyour body, your gift, and use it regularly and without thought—like breathing—and you’ll be able to do more.”
His eyes fall on me, and my breathing thins.
“Raegan.”
Ah, crap. Please don’t call me to the front of the room. It’s school all over again.
Jack’s lips quirk at the corners. He hops off the desk and motions me forward.
Frowning, I walk the few steps to him before he can use his gift to get me there anyway.
He holds the knife out to me. “Destroy it.”
I call my gift to the surface, sending it to my right hand in seconds with only the mild burn it induces now. Before I can reach for the knife, Jackson tosses it to his other hand.
“Too slow,” he remarks coolly.
I grab for it, stretching my arm and taking a step, but he steps with me. I shift my gift to my other hand that’s in reach, snatching at it, but he’s already thrown it back to his other hand.
“You wasted time accessing your gift.” Jackson tucks the knife away in his hoodie. He stalks slowly around me. “And moving it.”
“It was seconds—”
“—seconds too long.” He’s at my back now, his heated breath fanning over my neck.
“Jack,” I whisper, a flush creeping along my skin at his proximity. “There’s a room full of people.”
He chuckles, his nose brushing the back of my ear. Goosebumps cascade down my neck, a shiver of pleasure rippling through me. “You think I care about them, little one?” he murmurs huskily, thankfully quiet enough to keep it between us. “This lesson is all for you. They’re only here to witness it.”
His lips are twisted to a smirk when he moves back into my view. “Activate your gift,” he instructs, his voice carried once again through the room. “Your whole body this time.” He snags another knife from the desk while I do what he says, drawing my gift through every limb, every inch of me. Jackson lifts the knife between us in an unspoken command.
I reach for it. He moves it again, as expected, but my other hand is out and swiping it, turning it to dust the second I connect with it.
Jackson smiles. “When you’re in a fight, your gift should already be active. If you have to stop and think about your gift”—he snaps his fingers— “dead. Practice with your gift constantly until it’s second nature to use it, even when not in a fight. And then, when you know exactly what your gift can do, attacks will come naturally and on instinct—not planning.”
His words hit me as I remember all the times I’ve seen Jackson using his gift. It’s constant. Even when he’s relaxing, he’s using it to float paper creatures. To jump somewhere high. To listen to something far away. And it’ll be more than one thing at a time.
“You make it sound so easy,” a voice complains, and Jack shrugs.
“It is. With practice. Stamina first.” He flips a finger up to start a count. “Gift active at all times, second.” Another finger. “Test your limits. Know what it can do and how until it’s second nature.” One more finger. “Pass those limits.” His fourth finger raises.
