TITLE: Miranda's Fire
Miranda launched the second fireball a fraction of a second after the first, urging it to fly faster. She knew how improbable this trick was. She knew it because she had already attempted it--and failed--273 times today. And as many the day before.
As usual, her earphones blasted a hard rhythm. The music drowned out andom sounds from the estate and helped her focus. The magic inside her pulsed in time with the heavy bass.
Her mother said what she aimed to do was impossible, but Miranda had seen the explosions from two Fire Mage's flames colliding. If she could create that kind of force? No Mage would be able to defeat her in The Tournament. Fire Mages couldn't release two flames at once; that was impossible. But if anyone could accomplish this, Miranda knew it would be her. Her mother, the Psychic Mage, taught her about power, but her dad had taught her the real secret to winning --control.
The two flames raced to the stone wall. Based on her studies of The Tournament film archives, the pin-point centers needed to perfectly overlap a hair's breath from the target.
Not impossible, but near enough.
She squinted her eyes, trying to see how close she had come this time. In answer, a bone-jarring explosion blew her backwards, knocking out the breath she had been holding. She tucked into a ball and rode the shock-wave the forty feet to the far wall of the practice room, laughing as she tumbled.