He danced back and lunched Humming bird kisses the honey rose. According to the Dedicated, he had a “block”. He couldn’t channel unless something else was going on. They just needed to find out what. Then they’d brake him of it. Useless. If he’d been a soldier back in Damodred’s army who needed special instructions on how to march and which side of a pike to hold, he’d have been sent home in a week. Frustration was boiling over into anger as he danced with the training dummy. This dance was his life raft. It was what he knew. It was why he came to the Tower. They wouldn’t let him stay though would they? He obviously couldn’t channel, no matter what Pit had said.
The practice sword blurred around him, years of battle honed instincts fueled by a kind of desperation. He stood, sword poised as if to hack at his own doubts. His anger and frustration continued to boil over, cracking the Void. With a loud yell, he launched into River undercuts the bank. With a massive crack, the training sword splintered and the Void shattered. He stood huffing, sweat glistening on his bare chest, with the remnants of the practice weapon in his hands. He quickly picked up the pieces and began searching for a trash bin before one of the Ji came to scold him for destroying equipment.


