Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Frieda noticed him when his shadow reached her shoes.

She raised her head sharply and wiped at her face with both hands, dragging the tears away as though speed could erase the fact that he had seen them. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks red, and a few strands of hair had stuck to the damp skin around her mouth.

Actually, Lancet wanted to act like he hadn’t seen any of this and just keep walking.

This was Renan’s girlfriend. One of them, anyway. Getting involved in anything surrounding Renan Falconhart’s women felt like stepping into someone else’s storyline and volunteering to become a problem later.

Every time he had even the simplest of conversations with them, he felt the judgmental eyes of a supposed reader looking at him from the clouds above.

With his blonde hair, he did have the look of those characters, right?

Fuck.

Lancet swore in his mind. His eyes locked with Frieda again and she lowered her head quickly, trying to swallow another sob.

Lancet sighed. ’Guess we’re doing this.’ He leaned the Radiant Guillotine against the wall before sitting beside her.

”Are you okay?”

Frieda straightened at once. ”Yes.”

Lancet looked at her.

She looked ahead.

He waited.

Her mouth trembled.

”Very convincing,” he said. ”You should consider acting. But probably something without crying scenes.”

Frieda covered her face again, but a weak sound escaped her that was not quite another sob. Lancet decided to count it as progress.

”You don’t have to stay,” she muttered.

”That’s true.”

”You probably have somewhere else to be.”

”I was going back to my dorm to collapse with dignity.”

Frieda glanced at him through the space between her fingers.

Lancet nodded toward the wall behind them. ”But this looked like a better place to collapse. The floor has character.”

Her hands lowered slowly. The corner of her mouth moved, then failed beneath the weight still sitting on her face.

Lancet rested his forearms on his knees. ”So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or should I guess?”

”You saw what happened.”

”I saw you win.”

Frieda flinched.

Lancet watched her fingers tighten around her sleeves. ”I also saw the barrier fail.”

”It didn’t fail by itself.”

”The officials said there was a weak point.”

”My fire found it.”

”That still sounds like a barrier problem.”

”My fire burned them.”

Her voice broke on the last word. She turned away quickly, but not before he saw fresh tears gather in her eyes.

Lancet gave her time.

Frieda pressed the heels of her palms against them until the tears escaped around the edges anyway.

”They were screaming,” she said. ”I heard them after the flames stopped. I could see their skin. One of the medics couldn’t even stand properly.”

”No one died.”

”That doesn’t make it fine.”

”I didn’t say it did.”

Frieda drew her knees closer to her chest. ”Everyone keeps saying that. No one died. The injuries weren’t serious. The barrier had a fault. Like that means I shouldn’t feel anything.”

Lancet stayed quiet.

She stared at the floor between her shoes. ”Professor Phiodor told me to stop holding back. He said I would never amount to anything if I kept treating my own power like something to fear. Every time I lose, he says I’m embarrassing the Elementalist Class Group. Every time I hesitate, he looks at me like I’m wasting what I was given.”

Her breath caught, but she forced the next words through it.

”My father says the same thing in a nicer voice.”

Lancet turned slightly toward her.

”He wants me to earn an Awakener Supreme Diamond Medal before I graduate. He says it would raise the Castleloft name and make the other Great Families take us more seriously.”

Her fingers dug into the cloth around her knees. ”He wants one of the top two Guilds to recruit me as soon as I leave the Academy. He already talks as though it’s decided. As though all I have to do is stop being difficult and become what everyone expects.”

She laughed once, but there was no amusement in it. ”I can’t even use my power without hurting people.”

Frieda wiped at her face again. This time she did it slowly.

”My whole life, people have told me how lucky I am. How rare my fire is. How much stronger it will become. They speak about me like I’m some treasure the family uncovered.”

Her shoulders began to shake. ”But every time I use it, I’m afraid. And when I’m afraid, I lose control. Then they pressure me harder because I’m losing control, and that makes it worse.”

Lancet looked down the empty passage. No one had followed them. The noise from the departing crowd had faded into something distant and harmless.

Frieda’s voice fell lower. ”Maybe I shouldn’t use it anymore.”

Lancet looked back at her. ”Your fire?”

”All of it.”

”You want to stop being an Awakener?”

”I shouldn’t have this power if I can’t control it.”

”That’s a harsh rule.”

”It’s the right one.” She finally looked at him, tears running freely now. ”Fire hurts everyone except me. I can stand inside it and feel nothing while everyone else burns. That means it’s my responsibility to control it. If I can’t do that, then I don’t deserve to use it.”

Her face twisted.

”I wanted to be a hero.”

The word came out small.

”Someone people felt safe around. Someone who could protect them.” She lowered her head. ”But back there... how they looked at me... It was like... I was the danger.”

Her next breath broke apart completely. ”I’m not a hero anymore.”

She buried her face against her knees. ”I’m just something people need protection from.”

Lancet let her cry for a moment before he spoke.

”You know what people are very good at?”

Frieda did not answer.

”Judging burdens they don’t have to carry.”

Her crying slowed enough for him to continue.

”It’s easy for Professor Phiodor to stand outside your flames and tell you to stop being afraid of them. It’s easy for your father to plan medals and Guild invitations when he isn’t the one who has to decide how much fire is too much while hundreds of people are watching.”

Frieda lifted her face slightly.

Lancet leaned back against the wall. ”Control is difficult for everyone. It’s just more obvious when your mistakes explode.”

She stared at him.

”Fire is dangerous,” he said. ”Wild too. It spreads, it consumes and it doesn’t care what anyone intended once it gets loose.”

Her eyes lowered again.

”And that’s probably why it clashes with you.”

Frieda blinked. ”What?”

”You’re not dangerous or wild.”

Her eyes widened.

Lancet gestured toward her with one hand. ”You spent the entire match afraid of hurting your opponent. Then you won, and instead of celebrating, you ran away because strangers got burned. Does that sound like someone who enjoys destruction?”

Frieda said nothing.

”Even in the other challenges, you refused to use the dirty tactics set by your instructor and your teammates. You apologized to others. You’re not as inflammatory as the element you control.”

Frieda looked down at her hands, wondering if this truly meant something. Was her personality clashing with her powers?

”Maybe you’re trying too hard. You’re listening to what everyone says a great Fire Mage is supposed to be.” Lancet tapped two fingers against his knee. ”Maybe that’s the wrong direction.”

She looked up and watched him closely now.

”Fire doesn’t need you to become wild. It already has enough of that. Maybe it needs someone patient enough to understand it.”

Frieda’s lips parted, but no answer came.

Lancet continued before she could retreat into herself again. ”Fire Mages are respected for their power, sure. Anyone can be impressed by a giant explosion. But that isn’t the real reason people respect the Class.”

”What is?”

”Control.”

Frieda’s gaze stayed on him.

”Everyone knows fire is difficult. That’s why a Fire Mage who can place a flame exactly where it needs to be is more impressive than one who can burn half a city.” Lancet smiled faintly. ”Any idiot can destroy something if you give them enough power.”

A weak breath left Frieda, almost another laugh.

”The Class is respected because the element fights back,” Lancet said. ”Every clean spell means someone learned how to hold something wild without letting it become cruel. You haven’t failed because your fire is hard to control. The difficulty is part of what makes mastering it worth something.”

Frieda looked down at her hands.

A small flame appeared over one palm without warning.

She froze.

The fire shook with her fingers, no larger than a candle flame. After a second, she closed her hand and extinguished it.

”No one ever explained it like that,” she said.

”Sometimes I think the Academy has terrible teachers,” Lancet joked.

Frieda’s wide eyes looked at him with a stunned expression.

”But don’t tell anyone I said that.” He jokingly gestured with a finger on his lip.

Lancet stood and picked up the Radiant Guillotine. His body protested the movement, but he ignored it and sheathed the blade.

”Hey,” he said. ”Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Frieda looked up at him.

”Stick around where someone can find you. No disappearing into abandoned corners and making people search the entire Academy.”

Her brows pulled together. ”Why would anyone be searching for me?”

Lancet smiled. ”She’ll be coming to see you any day now.”

Frieda stared. ”Huh? Who?”

”You’ll be alright, Frieda.”

Lancet turned and started down the passage.

He could feel her watching him as he walked away, but she did not call after him again.