Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

”Did you hear there’s a new student that was transferred here from Awakener Pride?” Amira asked Frieda and Sienna .

The three girls who had formed a friendship because of their close proximity when being around Renan, walked through the stream of students heading toward the central grounds.

”I did,” Sienna said, sucking on a sweet. ”Heard her name is Nimara and her parents died in something that has to do with Dungeon Gates.”

Frieda made a sad face. ”That’s unfortunate. Hopefully she can settle here.”

Sienna stretched both arms above her head as they walked, letting out a groan of frustration. ”I still can’t believe they took Renan away without telling us where he was going.”

Amira adjusted the strap of her bag, her tone practical. ”He told you the same thing he told me. Classified means classified.”

”That doesn’t make it less annoying,” Sienna grumbled.

Frieda smiled faintly, keeping her eyes on the path ahead. ”He’ll be fine. It’s Renan we’re talking about. Hehe.”

Amira laughed softly, but Frieda’s attention had already moved ahead toward the outer gate. Her exit permit rested inside the inner pocket of her uniform, issued specifically for training outside Academy grounds.

She touched it once through the cloth, feeling the crisp edge of the paper against her chest. Amira noticed the nervous gesture immediately. ”You’re going now?”

Frieda nodded, taking a deep breath. ”Straight there.”

”To Solaris?” Amira asked softly, while Sienna’s expression changed from teasing to open interest. ”You’re actually training with the Phoenix Reincarnate.”

Frieda looked down at her own hands, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. ”I’m trying not to think about it like that.”

Amira watched her for a moment, her gaze softening. ”Are you scared?”

Frieda hesitated before answering. ”A little.”

The memory of the tournament still came too easily, her fire breaking through the barrier, the panicked screams from the front rows, the lingering smell of burned skin.

She remembered the crowd looking at her like she had finally proven everything they feared about her. She flexed her fingers once, feeling the phantom heat in her veins.

”But I want to learn.”

Amira nodded encouragingly. ”Then go.”

Sienna bumped Frieda lightly with one shoulder, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. ”And when you come back, please tell us whether she actually sleeps in fire.”

”I’m not asking her that,” Frieda said flatly.

”You have to,” Sienna insisted.

”No.”

Amira smiled and gently pushed Frieda forward. ”Ignore Sienna. Good luck.”

Frieda stopped near the path splitting toward the gate, preparing to part ways. Sienna raised one hand in a half-wave and called out, ”Don’t burn her apartment!” When Frieda turned to stare at her, deadpan, Sienna’s smile quickly disappeared. ”Too soon?”

”Yes,” Frieda replied dryly.

”Sorry.”

Frieda shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile anyway before she left them behind and headed for the gate.

The trip to Solaris’s apartment felt longer than it actually was. Frieda spent most of the walk rehearsing what she would say when she arrived.

She considered apologizing for being inexperienced, then realized that sounded ridiculous. She considered explaining the accident at the tournament, then remembered Lancet had already told Solaris what happened.

By the time she reached the apartment complex, she had decided the best approach was simply not to embarrass herself.

That pragmatic resolution lasted only until Solaris opened the door.

The Phoenix Reincarnate stood in fitted brown trousers and a cream blouse with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her copper-red hair had been tied loosely behind her head, while the rigid golden feathers along her brow caught the afternoon light from the hallway windows.

She looked Frieda over once, her expression unreadable. ”You’re early.”

Frieda blinked, suddenly feeling terribly out of place. ”Is that bad?”

”No,” Solaris replied simply, stepping aside to clear the threshold. ”Come in.”

Frieda entered cautiously, taking in her surroundings.

The apartment still looked too normal for the woman who had risen from a burning coffin just two days earlier. A flat-screen television sat against one wall, and several maps of Cinderhold covered the dining table.

Boxes of ordinary cereal filled one open cupboard near the kitchen, creating a strange juxtaposition with the mythic aura of their owner. Frieda tried not to stare at them, but Solaris noticed anyway.

”It was Lancet’s doing,” Solaris stated, tracking Frieda’s gaze. ”He bought... too many.”

Frieda looked back at her, confused. ”He told me you bought them.”

Solaris’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in the gold. ”Did he?”

Frieda wisely decided not to answer. Solaris closed the door with a soft click and turned back to her student.

”We won’t train here. The training ground is behind the complex. It’s private property with reinforced walls and, more importantly, no spectators.”

Frieda nodded in relief as Solaris picked up a long ivory coat from the back of a chair and walked toward the door again. Pausing, the older woman glanced at Frieda’s hands. ”You will not need books.”

Frieda looked down at the notebook she had brought, suddenly feeling foolish. ”I thought I should write things down.”

”If you need paper to remember what your fire feels like, the training has already failed,” Solaris said coolly.

Frieda slowly put the notebook back inside her bag, zipping it shut. Solaris opened the door and simply commanded, ”Come.”

The private training yard behind the apartment complex had been built specifically for Awakeners living in the upper residences.

High stone walls enclosed a long rectangular field, with reinforced targets spread across the far end and a transparent barrier resting dormant around the perimeter.

Solaris walked purposefully to the center and turned to face her student. Frieda stopped several steps away, shifting her weight nervously as a tense silence stretched between them for the first few seconds.

Then, Solaris held out one hand. ”Show me your fire.”

Frieda looked at her own palm, hesitant. ”Just summon it?”

”Yes.”

Taking a breath, she drew Grace through her channels. Heat gathered first, prickling beneath her skin, before fire finally formed above her hand.

It came out bright orange at the edges and deep red at its core, but the shape stubbornly refused to stay still. The flame expanded, shrank, then surged upward violently without Frieda asking it to.

Solaris’s eyes changed instantly. The white-gold light inside them deepened as her Phoenix Eye activated, casting an intense, analytical gaze over her student.

Frieda felt suddenly exposed, as if the woman could see every flawed current of magic within her body. Solaris walked closer, her expression severe. ”Again.”

Frieda strengthened the flame, but instead of stabilizing, it grew violently, lashing out at the empty air. Solaris completely ignored the erratic blaze, watching the route of magic coursing through Frieda’s arm rather than the fire itself.

”Stop,” Solaris commanded.

Frieda immediately cut the spell, letting the heat dissipate into the afternoon air. Solaris reached for her wrist and firmly turned the hand over, examining the skin. ”Your problem begins before the flame even leaves you.”

Frieda frowned in confusion. ”What do you mean?”

”You’re trying to control the fire after you create it,” Solaris explained.

”I thought that was how control worked,” Frieda argued mildly.

”No.”

Solaris released her wrist, letting Frieda’s arm drop. ”Fire control begins inside the channels. By the time the flame is outside your body, you should already know exactly how much heat, fuel, and pressure you gave it.”

As Frieda looked at her empty hand, absorbing the critique, Solaris continued. ”Your dragon blood makes the problem worse.”

Frieda raised her eyes, listening intently.

”Dragonfire is not ordinary fire,” Solaris explained, her voice steady and instructional. ”It carries more force, more pressure, and more energy behind each release. It wants to expand because that is what dragonfire was made to do.”

Frieda nodded slowly, understanding the volatile nature of her own magic. Solaris then lifted her own hand, and Phoenixfire appeared effortlessly above her palm.

It blossomed in a brilliant gold at first, then shifted toward a blinding white along the center. The flame moved entirely differently from Frieda’s erratic bursts.

It did not jump or roar; instead, it curled elegantly around Solaris’s fingers, following each subtle movement of her hand like a living, tame creature.

”Phoenixfire is different,” Solaris noted quietly. ”It carries less raw explosive force than dragonfire, but it reaches deeper into the Spirit, the Gloom, the Soul. It is meant for purification. My fire is built to pass safely through what should remain and utterly burn what should not.”

Frieda watched the mesmerizing, controlled flame closely until Solaris closed her hand, extinguishing it in an instant.

”But they are both still fire,” Solaris said, pointing a firm finger toward Frieda’s chest. ”And all fire demands the exact same thing from the person carrying it.”

”Control,” Frieda answered softly.

”Exactly,” Solaris stated. She gave Frieda a knowing look as the girl slowly began to understand. ”Let us begin, Frieda Castleloft.”