Water magic. It sounds so peaceful, doesn’t it? The idea of controlling something as fluid and graceful as water should be effortless, right? I mean, how hard could it be to summon a gentle stream or a comforting rainstorm? It’s just water, after all. But let me tell you—water magic is the worst.
I’ve always been good with plants, fire, and even illusions, but for some reason, water just refuses to listen to me. Every time I try to work with it, I feel like I’m trying to grab hold of something that’s slipping through my fingers. It’s like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands—beautiful, but completely impossible.
The first time I tried to control water was when Father took me to the creek near the tower. He showed me how water could be drawn from the earth and shaped into whatever you wanted, from a simple stream to the delicate trickle of a waterfall. It was so easy for him. I thought, "How hard could it be?" I was wrong.
I tried to form a stream, just a little one, to practice my control. I could feel the magic flow through me, but the water—oh, the water—kept splattering everywhere. I was trying to gather it gently, but instead, it burst out in wild arcs, splashing all over the place like an angry sea. Father had to help me dry the wet patch on the ground afterward. It was embarrassing. My concentration wavered every time the water splashed in unexpected directions, and it took a long while before I could even get it to stay still for more than a few seconds.
But that’s the thing about water. It doesn’t want to be controlled. It moves when it wants, it shifts and bends, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it obey. Plants have a certain... stillness about them. Fire, for all its volatility, follows basic rules. Water? It’s like an untamed creature. One minute, it’s calm and clear, and the next, it’s a roaring force that no amount of concentration can calm.
I tried again a few weeks ago, hoping for better results. This time, I wanted to make a simple barrier of water. You know, just a little shield to defend myself. How hard could it be to make a water barrier, right? Well, that little puddle of water turned into a wave the size of my arm, splashing over everything in a matter of seconds. The wave didn’t even hit anything—it just drenched me completely. And what did I get out of it? Wet shoes. Very, very wet shoes.
And don’t get me started on freezing water. I’ve been trying to do that for a while now—control water, then make it freeze, just to see if I can combine my love for both elements. But every time, I end up either turning it to ice too quickly, creating something brittle and useless, or not fast enough, and the water just splashes out of control. I can almost hear the water laughing at me as it refuses to stay still long enough to freeze.
Somehow, water always wins.
At times, I wonder why I keep trying, but then I remember: it’s because I want to get it right. I know that if I keep at it, I can learn how to handle water, just as I’ve learned to control other elements. But the struggle is real. The more I try, the more frustrated I get, especially when I know it’s one of the fundamental elements. Everyone says water is so calming, so gentle—but I can’t seem to make it listen to me. I think it’s got a mind of its own.
Still, I’m not giving up. One of these days, I’m going to master it. The next time I try, I’ll make sure the water stays where I want it—maybe even freeze it for real. But for now, I’ll be happy if I can just manage a simple stream without it splashing me in the face.
Until then, I’ll just keep trying. After all, what’s the point of magic if you can’t learn something new? Even if that new thing is just getting water to behave for five seconds.
Thanks for reading,
— Sarra
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