How to Manipulate Magnetic Fields 101 (Revised)

Sarah (POV)

Erik gave me a look that could've come with X-ray vision and a snarky commentary on the side. "Your abilities share a similarity with mine," he said after a moment, his voice thick with reluctant respect. "Both involve manipulating the magnetic field. But you… you've got something extra." A faint twitch of his lips hinted at a smile. "A spark, if you will."

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "Oh, you're full of those, aren't you? 'Extra' sparks and puns. What's next, a joke about me shocking you?"

"Careful," Erik warned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Keep that up, and I'll show you how far your electricity can go."

I smirked, stepping into the tension. "Magnetism drags electrical discharges along for the ride. Controlling it is about as easy as managing a toddler with ADHD—no matter how hard you focus, there's always some random burst of energy. Lightning, though? That's natural." I raised an eyebrow, letting confidence seep into my tone. "It just clicks with me."

He studied me for a long moment, his face unreadable. "The reason you can't fully separate them is simple. You lack faith in your own abilities." His words landed with the weight of a gavel. "Ambition is good; it drives progress. But real power? Real power comes from control. And that takes time... patience... and a lot of mistakes."

The remark hit harder than I cared to admit. My cocky exterior cracked for a second, exposing the self-doubt beneath. Erik's calm certainty had a way of cutting through my usual defenses.

Seeing me quiet, he pressed on. "If you want real strength, you need to invest in yourself. Now—" he gestured grandly, like a king issuing a royal decree, "take out a coin. Manipulate it."

I blinked, almost laughing in disbelief. "Right. 'Coin tricks.' That'll prepare me to conquer the world."

His expression remained steady. "Less talk. More power."

With a dramatic sigh, I extended my hand, envisioning a coin floating midair as though I were performing a corny magic show. The problem? No audience. No showmanship. Just me, the invisible coin, and Erik's relentless gaze, heavy with expectation.

I furrowed my brow as the energy inside me twisted and flared, crackling at the edges like a contained storm. Holding it back felt unnatural, the kind of restraint that gnawed at you.

Then, a faint hum. A wobble. The coin lifted barely an inch off the ground—not exactly a grand finale, but a start.

I couldn't help the grin that tugged at my lips. "Well, look at that. I made a coin levitate. I bet the Avengers are shaking in their boots."

Erik allowed himself a small, approving smile. "It's just the beginning. You're young, and you have vast potential. But you'll need to be patient. Hone the basics."

As we finished up, Erik threw me a curveball. "Sarah," he said, his voice low, almost too serious. "How do you perceive your powers? What anchors your control? Is it instinct... or something more?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "I... uh..." The words stumbled out, unsteady, like trying to speak in the middle of a lightning storm. Static everywhere.

Erik arched a brow, his expression a masterful blend of patience and wry amusement. "Take your time," he said, his tone practically dripping with mock encouragement. "Ponder it. When you've solved the mysteries of the universe, let me know." With that, he turned and walked off, leaving me marinating in his words—a philosophical riddle wrapped in a grenade.

I paced in the quiet, chewing on his parting statement, the seconds dragging on as I muttered to myself. "Electricity feels inseparable from me. An extension. So why can't I stop the discharges when I focus on magnetism?" The question buzzed in my mind, relentless and irritating, the mental equivalent of a mosquito you couldn't swat.

Determined not to let it beat me, I shoved my irritation aside and tried again. Narrowing my focus, I attempted to cage the crackling electricity that always seemed on the verge of escape. The coin wobbled to life, erratic and unsteady, as though it questioned my competence. Turns out, knowing the theory and executing it were two very different beasts.

The training field stretched around me in theatrical silence, the kind that made you wonder if the universe itself was holding its breath. Scattered remnants of past sessions—gnarled rebar, a mangled satellite dish, coins glinting in various states of wear—caught the amber glow of the setting sun. Standing amidst the chaos, arms crossed, I glared at the debris as though it had personally offended me.

A few paces away, Erik stood with his maddeningly serene posture, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of a Zen master with an agenda. His expression blended patience with just a hint of smugness—the look of someone who already knew what move you'd screw up next. "You seem skeptical," he remarked, his voice slicing through the stillness with surgical precision.

Without looking at him, I flicked my wrist. A tendril of shadow lashed out, snatching a coin midair with a satisfying ting. "Not skeptical," I shot back, inspecting the coin between my fingers as if it were some cheap trinket. "Just weighing my options. Metal's not my style. Too rigid. Too slow." With a flick of my thumb, I sent the coin spinning back into the pile. "This? Feels more like busywork than a power move."

Erik stepped closer, calm and collected as always. Without breaking eye contact, he extended a hand. A shard of metal rose from the ground, floating lazily between us as though it had all the time in the world. "Perhaps that's the flaw in your perspective," he said, his tone smooth and annoyingly confident. "Metal isn't rigid; it bends and flows when commanded. Master it, and you'll find very little in the world can resist you."

I shot him a sideways glance, my lips curling into a smirk. "Do you rehearse this in front of a mirror, or is this just for me?"

For a split second, he almost smiled—not quite, but close. "Maybe a bit of both," he admitted, gesturing toward the scattered coins as though unveiling a magician's stage. "Now, shall we begin?"

Rolling my shoulders with an exaggerated stretch, I cracked my neck for dramatic effect. "Fine. Teach me, O Master of Magnetic Charisma."

He ignored my jab with practiced grace, motioning toward the coins. "Start small. Focus on their individual properties. Metal isn't just a material; it has resonance. Can you feel it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Resonance? That's either profound or creepy. But sure, I'll bite." Stretching out my hand, I shifted my energy, quieter this time, more deliberate. The buzz of power in my veins never fully disappeared, but I redirected it, letting it ripple outward as a soft current. The coins quivered, a faint hum vibrating through them. One hovered briefly—gloriously—before clattering back down with a sharp clink.

Progress—barely. But there was no way I was giving Erik the satisfaction of admitting how much work I still had ahead of me.

"Not bad," Erik said, his tone strangely approving. No sarcasm, no hidden barb—just calm encouragement. "But you're still pulling. Magnetism isn't about force—it's about alignment. Metal wants to move. All you have to do is guide it."

I snorted, barely holding back the sarcasm. "Right, because guiding a lump of nickel alloy is just so intuitive." Shooting him a sideways glance, I let my smirk sharpen. "Remind me again how many decades it took you to figure this out?"

"A couple," he admitted, a faint grin tugging at his lips, the past seemingly an inside joke only he found funny. "But your progress will be faster. Your power isn't raw—it's refined. You simply need focus."

"Focus," I echoed, my voice dripping with dry amusement. "Of course. The answer to all life's problems." Rolling my eyes, I closed them anyway, shoving aside the doubt and frustration threatening to cloud my mind. I stretched my senses outward, tuning in to the faint vibrations of the coins. The hum of energy swirled within me, and this time, one coin rose higher than before. Then another joined it, hovering awkwardly beside the first, as if they were two dance partners figuring out their footing.

"Good," Erik said, quieter this time, his approval more deliberate. "Feel their weight. Don't fight the energy—let it flow through you."

I opened my eyes and smirked as the coins steadied themselves. My grin widened as I made them spin in midair, tiny planets orbiting a nonchalant, slightly misanthropic god. "Look at me. I'm officially a one-woman bank heist."

Erik raised a brow, his lips quirking as he flicked his wrist. The coins zipped toward him, snapping into a neat stack in his hand as if they'd been waiting for him all along. With effortless grace, he glanced at me. "Don't get cocky."

Leaning against the rubble, I arched a brow. "Show-off."

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the stack into the air. "Your turn."

The hum of power was sharper now, more focused as I extended my hand. Concentrating, I let the energy flow, sharper and more deliberate. The coins froze midair, hanging in a perfect arc before breaking apart, each piece spinning in place. They formed a tiny Ferris wheel, a gleaming circle of metal shimmering in the fading sunlight.

"That's more like it," Erik said with a nod of approval. "Now, something larger."

My eyes flicked to a twisted piece of rebar lying nearby. Big, heavy, and oozing "don't mess with me" energy. Hesitation settled in, my earlier confidence fading as a storm cloud overtakes the sunset.

"Don't overthink it," Erik said, his tone calm and practiced, the voice of a man who had taught this lesson more times than he cared to admit. "Metal doesn't resist—it responds. Feel its density, its structure. Command it."

My jaw tightened as I let out a deep breath, locking my focus on the piece of rebar lying crooked in the dirt. Reaching out, I ignored the familiar pull of my shadows and the crackle of lightning that always felt closer to instinct. Instead, I stretched toward the faint buzz of resonance I was just beginning to understand.

The rebar trembled, a hesitant shake that twisted my gut with doubt. But then, like a drunk finding his balance, it lifted—wobbly, swaying awkwardly, but it stayed up.

"Not bad for someone who called it an afterthought," Erik teased, amusement flickering at the edges of his voice.

"Careful, old man," I shot back, my words sharpened with a mischievous edge. "I might start giving you a run for your money."

His expression softened, a rare glimmer of pride brightening his features. "That's the idea."

What followed was an hour of relentless training that pushed me harder than I expected. A steel disc hurtled toward me, and before I could think, I caught it midair with a magnetic pull, sending it spinning back toward Erik in a reflexive burst of focus. He didn't flinch, catching it effortlessly before tossing a handful of smaller shards into the air. I deflected them one by one, each piece ricocheting harmlessly into the dirt.

"You're learning control," Erik observed, his voice calm but edged with approval. "But control under pressure—that's what separates the strong from the truly formidable."

Sweat dripped down my temple, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. "Oh, great. I was just thinking this was too easy."

His smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with something close to mischief. With a deliberate gesture, he sent every shard of metal around us into the air. They hovered there, a chaotic swarm of potential chaos, vibrating as if waiting for the right moment to strike. Then, with a flick of his fingers, they shot toward me—not fast enough to be dangerous, but quick enough to demand reflexes sharper than instinct.

My hands shot up, power snapping into focus. The shards deflected, spinning harmlessly into the dirt. "Nice try," I muttered, flicking my wrist to send one piece hurtling back in his direction.

Erik caught it mid-flight without so much as a blink, his composure as unshakable as ever. "Remember, Sarah—metal isn't just a weapon. It's a tool. A shield. An ally."

I grinned, letting the tension bleed into something lighter. "Not bad for a first date."

He chuckled softly, a rare warmth threading through his voice. "Don't get ahead of yourself. This is only the beginning."

The training area stretched wide around us, littered with debris—metal beams overhead, broken girders, and scraps of steel scattered as forgotten relics. Erik gestured toward the larger beams hanging precariously from the framework above.

"Focus on them," he instructed, his tone shifting back to that calm, methodical teacher mode. "Don't try to force it. Let it come naturally, the way your shadows do. Feel the metal."

I narrowed my eyes at the beams, stepping closer as though proximity would make it easier to connect. Closing my eyes, I reached out with my senses, letting the static hum of my powers fade just enough to tune in to something quieter. At first, the vibration of the metal was barely a whisper, faint and elusive. But the more I reached, the more I felt it—a pulse, faint but undeniably there.

The beam shuddered.

"Now, command it," Erik prompted, his voice low and steady.

I huffed a dramatic sigh, mocking the gravity of his words, but extended my hand anyway. The beam trembled harder, rising a few inches off the ground before swaying uncertainly, as if unsure about this whole flying business. A small, triumphant smile tugged at my lips, even as doubt lingered at the edges of my mind. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress—and progress was enough.

"You're getting it," Erik said, the approval in his voice unmistakable this time. "The metal responds to your energy. Your understanding of magnetism will grow quickly if you keep training. You've already mastered so much of your power—this is just an extension of that."

I paused, studying the beam as though it were a puzzle piece just out of alignment. Magnetism, huh? A new set of toys to play with. I could get used to that. The energy pulsing through the connection felt unfamiliar yet oddly intuitive. Maybe it was because my shadows had always been natural extensions of myself, or maybe it was my love of a challenge. Either way, it clicked.

Erik must have noticed the shift, because his voice softened, though it carried undeniable weight. "You don't need to fear power, Sarah. You've already embraced the darker aspects of your abilities. Why not embrace this as well?"

I raised an eyebrow, bracing for the inevitable pitch. "I'm not afraid of power, Erik. I just prefer to control it."

His chuckle was low and knowing, more of a dare than reassurance. "Control is key. But sometimes, you have to let go to truly understand what you're capable of."

I studied Erik for a moment, narrowing my eyes. He had this calm, collected demeanor, as if the world itself bent to his will. Power was his domain, and I wasn't about to buy into his philosophy—not yet, anyway. "I'm not joining your side, Erik," I said bluntly. "I'll take the training, but keep the revolution speeches to yourself. I'm here for the skills. That's it."

His grin twisted slightly, as though he knew something I didn't. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But consider this—sometimes, it's better to learn from those who understand power best."

I didn't respond immediately. What was there to say? Erik wasn't subtle—he dangled power in front of me like a prize, waiting to see if I'd bite. I wasn't falling for it, but I couldn't deny the appeal of training with someone who had mastered his abilities. Maybe I didn't trust him, but I could still learn from him. And if there was one thing I thrived on, it was a challenge.

The next few days blurred into hours of metalwork. I spent most of my time in the training area, manipulating steel and iron as though I'd been doing it forever. Twisting beams, lifting slabs, shaping them into forms I hadn't thought possible. It felt... good. Almost natural, as though I was tapping into a piece of myself I hadn't fully understood. The thrill of it was undeniable—the hum in the air as the metal responded to my every thought. Still, I never forgot one thing: Erik was a resource, not an ally.

As my control over the metal improved, the team's dysfunction became increasingly obvious. Banshee's flying was erratic, as though he still hadn't figured out which way was up. Darwin seemed lost, grappling with the evolving nature of his powers. And Alex? He was too wrapped up in his own ego to be much use to anyone. I'd always been good at figuring out where I fit, and here, I didn't see much clarity. The team was still deciding what they wanted to be. Me? I already knew where I stood.

Mystique was a different story. I'd been watching her—studying her. It was clear she was caught between Charles' calculated vision and Erik's fiery, revolutionary zeal. The conflict was written all over her, even if no one else noticed. She wasn't someone who could be pushed into a decision. But that didn't mean I'd stop paying attention.

Through it all, Erik remained a constant presence. He didn't push too hard on the big topics. We avoided alliances and politics, but there was an unspoken understanding between us. He trained me—relentlessly—and I was getting better. There was no denying that. But was it his guidance, or my own drive to succeed? Maybe both.

The longer I stayed, the more I felt like an outsider. Erik knew I wasn't going to join him, and Charles likely had an idea of my position too. Honestly, I didn't care. I wasn't here for the long haul—being stuck in the past? Not my thing. Shaw needed to be stopped, Erik and Charles' falling out avoided, and Raven... well, she was my priority. Beyond that? Self improvement, but that was obvious.