By the end of January, the wind courses had ended.

  And a new element began — earth.

  The earth teacher stepped in front of us, adjusted his clay-colored cloak, and solemnly declared:

  “Earth is similar to water…

  and similar to wind…

  because it… already exists.

  You simply need to… feel it.”

  I almost inhaled so sharply through my nose that I started coughing.

  Yes, of course. “Feel it.”

  A magnificent explanation.

  The students were handed a handful of soil and several stones.

  “Move them,” the teacher said. “Those who can — well done. Those who can’t — it’s fine. Earth is a heavy element.”

  Some immediately began pressing down on the soil, as if it would shift under the pressure of their fingers.

  Others stared at it strangely, as though waiting for it to jump on its own.

  And I… just observed.

  And saw something I didn’t expect.

  Elinia placed her palm on the ground…

  and the earth, as if responding to a command, rose.

  Slowly, evenly, without jerks — like water rising in a bowl.

  She immediately began writing something down in her notebook.

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  It was the first time I’d seen her taking notes herself.

  My eyebrows rose on their own.

  Now that was news.

  The others immediately crowded around her:

  “Princess, how did you do that?”

  “Why isn’t it working for us?”

  “What did you feel?”

  And… she explained.

  And she explained very well.

  She stood up, brushed her hair back, and said:

  “Earth is not ‘pressure’ and not ‘weight.’

  Earth is structure.

  To move it, you must first feel how it is built.”

  Even the teacher fell silent, listening.

  “Imagine,” she continued, “that every handful of soil is made of many, many tiny points.

  They are dense.

  They are resilient.

  They are connected to one another.”

  She moved her hand over the ground, and it trembled slightly.

  “To move earth, you don’t push it like an object.

  You act on the connections between particles.

  Weaken them — the earth crumbles.

  Strengthen them — it becomes stone.

  Shift the connections — and it moves where you want it to.”

  She lifted a stone — this time deliberately, slowly.

  It rose exactly one palm’s height.

  “Don’t think ‘lift the stone.’

  Think:

  ‘shift the connections upward.’”

  The students looked at her as if she were another teacher.

  I listened carefully as well.

  Her explanation… was correct.

  Scientific.

  Clear.

  And yes. Practiced. As if she’d trained all night.

  But that didn’t change the fact that she explained it better than the teacher.

  After an explanation like that… I became curious myself.

  I placed my palm on the cold ground.

  Focused.

  Imagined the connections — just as she’d said:

  Dense.

  Resilient.

  Holding one another together.

  I tried to “shift” them.

  The ground beneath my palm trembled slightly.

  A wave passed through it.

  And for a moment, it rose — just barely, a couple of centimeters.

  But it rose.

  Elinia noticed and said quietly:

  “There.

  You’re doing it.”

  I shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  She smirked.

  “Don’t be modest. If you understood it on the first try — that’s impressive.”

  The earth teacher finally recovered and said:

  “Princess Elinia…

  that was an excellent explanation.

  Perhaps you would… lead the next part of the lesson?”

  She didn’t even have time to answer — she was already pushed into the circle of students.

  And I sat down, looking at my fingers.

  Well, yeah.

  Now it was perfectly clear who would be the main star of this course.