Solomon concentrated heavily on the empty space in his hands, then promptly lost that concentration.

He sighed. That was the third time. Whenever he tried to concentrate, he always felt a ghost of the pain that came from those needles. He remembered how badly - no, not badly, [i]excruciatingly[/i] painful they were. He collapsed, convulsed and wished he could just die and end the pain . . . but the memory of her clear, jade eyes flashed through his mind and suddenly he felt like he could resist the pain. He dredged up all the memories he could of her and changed them into something else, into a vision of the future where he could stand in front of her and everyone else, tall and proud. 

The lingering pain disappeared to be replaced by a warmth that was so full of feeling, it felt like [i]magic[/i] all on its own . . .

"Let's try this again," he muttered. He needed intent. A way to remember why he was doing this. He had already failed with such a simple exercise four times, if he failed again . . .

Inhale, exhale. 

Magic flowed through his arms and gathered into palm. He smiled ecstatically. 

[i]I did it![/i]

Then the magic evaporated and he smacked himself on the head for losing concentration. 

[i]Okay, one more time![/i]