The Betrayed Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 2) Dan Michaelson (the best motivational books .txt) 📖

"Then keep trying." He nodded, smiling and turning back to the other students as if that were all the answer I needed.

I snorted to myself and focused on the heat. There was no point in trying to do anything else. I could feel that, and tried to draw on the energy that was within me, trying to feel for something else, but each time that I did, I recognized that the heat went nowhere.

If it were supposed to radiate throughout me, it did not.

I watched the other students gathered, noticing how so many of them had no difficulty with pushing the heat out of their fingertips, leaving him glowing.

Some of them, Brandel included, had a surge of power that went from one fingertip to the next, and they were able to carry power through them.

Until I could do that, I would never be a dragon mage. But I could feel the heat. It told me that I might be able to do something.

Eventually, I grew tired of remaining here. I couldn't draw enough power out, so staying here didn't serve any purpose.

I headed out of the training room, but not before seeing Brandel looking over at me, a smirk on his face.

From there, I headed upstairs.

A dark-cloaked man passed me in the hall and it took me a moment to realize it was the same man I’d seen with Manuel the night before.

“You’re the young man Manuel spoke of,” he said.

“Am I?” I looked along the hall, but it was empty save for the two of us.

“He claims you came from the plains.”

He waited for me to speak, and I nodded.

“I should like to speak to you about your experience. I have not found many with talent beyond the forest.”

Was that what this would be about?

If he were a dragon mage, then I knew I had to interact with him, but I didn’t need someone to accuse me of the same thing Brandel and the others did. “If you would like.”

He grunted. “Find me later.”

I nodded, and as he left, I wondered if maybe I could learn something from him. Matthew had mentioned that I would need to find my own way of attaining power. What if the dark-cloaked man could help me find my way?

I reached my room, where I sank down in the chair in front of my desk. I pulled open my book and turned the pages, flipping through slowly and reading the instructions written upon them. I was asked to find myself, the power within me. Channel it.

These were the same points I had learned from the instructors. They were just written down. Despite that, I still did not find what I needed. How could I? There were no answers. Nothing that would give me any guidance, and nothing that would tell me where I needed to go and what I needed to do. I had nothing other than my belief that I could.

And it was a belief that had been pushed upon me by others who seem to think that I have potential—though I no longer knew if I truly had it.

I pored over the pages, looking for answers in the same way that I had every day in the months that I had been in the Academy, trying to understand some way for me to reach for the power of the dragons—not just to feel it.

There was a section in one of the early parts of the book that spoke of the heat that I was supposed to feel—and because I felt it, I thought that perhaps I could uncover something from it. But the longer that I felt it, the harder it was for me to know if there was anything within it that might be useful to me.

It talked about finding a pattern within myself.

What did that even mean?

The instructors talked about focusing on the heat, focusing on the breathing, and then pushing that heat out as I connected to the dragons, but a pattern?

It seemed interesting, only in that it might provide me with a different way of reaching for the power of the dragons. But still, it didn't provide me with any immediate benefit.

A knock came at my door.

I looked up from the book, rubbing my eyes. I felt like I had been studying for the better part of several hours, though I doubt it had been anywhere close to that. It was just that this mental work was far harder on me than I would've expected it to be, especially having been on the farm for as long as I had, being accustomed to physical activity. Thinking the way that I had been drained me almost as much as a full day of work on the farm. I got up from my seat and headed to the door, pulling it open and frowning.

"Oh," Cara said. She had auburn hair and a round face that pouted as she looked up at me. "You are here."

"Can I help you?"

It was best to be polite. I was older than Cara, and though she looked at me with disgust in her eyes, there was no point in me causing drama with her. I had enough drama with others in the Academy as it was.

"I was told to give you this."

She held out a folded piece of paper, stuffed into an envelope and sealed with wax.

I frowned at her. "By who?"

"I don't know," she said. "One of the master instructors claims it was left here for you."

I took it, and before I had the opportunity to do or say anything else, she stormed off down the hall. I stepped back, closing the door, and leaned on it for a moment.

As I unfolded the envelope, my eyes skimmed the neat handwriting.

It was from Alison.

That was unexpected. Not that Alison would not send word. She had promised that she would try to update me, but the fact that she had written . . .

The letter was simple. Only a few lines. She hoped that it