I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of controlling the air and lightning. The thought of commanding something so powerful, so alive—it’s the stuff of legends. I mean, air is everywhere, right? It’s light, it’s free, it’s everywhere. And lightning? The raw, untamed force of nature that can split the sky—how amazing would it be to harness that kind of energy?
Sounds perfect, doesn’t it? But let me tell you—it's not.
Sure, air magic might seem all serene and calm when you’re imagining it. Airbending, as people like to call it, right? Floating leaves, summoning gusts of wind, sending little puffs of air to make the trees sway. Simple, elegant. But there’s a reason air is considered one of the more dangerous elements to work with. It’s unstable.
I’ve tried air magic a few times—nothing big, just small things like moving a light breeze or pushing air in a certain direction. At first, it was amazing. The way the air could shift with just a thought, the gentle push I could create to move a leaf. But soon enough, I learned that air doesn’t like being controlled. It has a mind of its own.
For example, one time I tried to create a small whirlwind. Just a tiny one, like a little dust devil to practice my control. At first, it was cute—just a little twisting funnel of wind, whirling harmlessly in the corner of the yard. But the longer I focused on it, the harder it became to keep it in place. The wind started picking up speed, pulling leaves from the trees, and before I knew it, I was chasing after it, trying to stop it before it caused a mess.
By the time I finally got the wind to die down, my hair was tangled, my dress was covered in dirt, and I was slightly out of breath. Not my best moment.
The problem with air magic is that it’s so easy for it to spiral out of control. The tiniest shift in concentration and suddenly, you’ve got a full-fledged storm on your hands, tearing through whatever’s in its path. And don’t even get me started on the dangerous side of air magic—the lightning.
Lightning. The sheer force of it is terrifying, and I’ve always known that lightning magic requires more caution than almost anything else. It’s not like fire magic, where at least you can control the flame to a degree. Lightning is just instantaneous—a split-second strike of pure power, and when it strikes, it can leave nothing but destruction in its wake.
The first time I tried lightning magic, I thought it would be similar to controlling fire. I was wrong.
I tried to create a small bolt, just a little spark to see what I could do. I gathered the magic, focused my energy, and I felt that crackle of power course through my fingertips. It felt like the sky itself was pressing against my skin. And then... nothing.
For a moment, I thought maybe I’d failed. But just as I started to lower my hand, BOOM. A loud crack, and a flash of blinding light shot from my hand, slamming into the ground with such force that I could feel the tremor in my bones. The impact left a scorched mark on the grass, and I could barely breathe for a few seconds, the air thick with ozone.
I had no idea what happened. It felt like the lightning came from inside me—like I’d pulled the power of the storm out and let it loose without any control. That was my first and last time trying lightning magic, at least for now.
The thing is, lightning isn’t just dangerous because of the destruction it causes. It’s the unpredictability of it. Air and lightning magic are tied to forces far beyond any one person’s control. They’re the kind of magic that makes you feel small in the face of something that can’t be tamed. And when you’re dealing with something that powerful, it only takes one mistake to bring down something you never intended to destroy.
So, yeah. While air and lightning are beautiful in their own right, they’re far too dangerous for me right now. The risk far outweighs the reward, and I’ve learned that the hard way.
Maybe one day I’ll revisit them, when I’m a little more experienced, but for now, I’ll leave the storms to the gods. For me, it’s safer to stick with the more grounded magic. There’s enough chaos in the world without me accidentally bringing down lightning on my own head.
Thanks for reading,
— Sarra
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