“Your magic is you, Kera.” Her voice dropped to something quieter, like she was saying it more to me than the others. “The chaos. The fear. The fire. It is not separate. It is trapped, and that is why it lashes out.” She reached for the second cup and offered it to me.
“What if I can’t control it?” My fingers tightened around the warm ceramic. “What if I hurt someone again?” I looked down at the dark liquid, still steaming.
Will stepped in, quiet and cautious, and laid his hand over mine, over the cup, stopping me without a word.
I met his eyes.
Then I pushed his hand aside.
“That’s the fear, isn’t it?” Her eyes didn’t waver. “That the fire will take over. That you’ll lose yourself to it.” She tipped her head slightly, studying me. “But what if the fire isn’t the problem? What if your fear of it is?”
“I don’t understand.”
Her eyes didn’t leave mine as I brought the cup to my lips.
“You have to let yourselffeelit,” she said. “All of it.”
----- ?⋅?⋅? -----
I stared at the little bluebell in front of me like it owed me something. I’d been out there alone for hours, kneeling in the damp moss, whispering nonsense, trying everything the seer had told me.
Feel it, she said. Let it come. Don’t force it. Don’t bury it.
Easy for her to say.
My hands hovered over the flower, and nothing happened. There was no warmth. No flicker of anything. I don’t even know what I was trying to do. Anything, I guess. Anything at all, would have been good.
“It’s not working,” I muttered to myself, though the frustration carried through the trees. Footsteps crunched down the slope behind me. I didn’t need to look. I knew the sound of his steps...
“Wish I could help,” Aran said, stumbling into view and giving his muddy boot a dramatic shake. “Though I’m not sure I’d be much use. Flowers aren’t really my thing.”
He dropped down across from me, sweat at his temples. His presence was unwelcome, but I was too exhausted to chase him off.
“Why isn’t it working?” I snapped. “I’m doing everything right. I’m concentrating, I’m centering myself, and... nothing.
I gestured sharply toward the bluebell. It didn’t care about my grief, or fear, or any of it.
Aran leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.
“Well, what exactly are you trying to do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I can do or what I can’t. It feels like... I’m trapped inside my own mind.”
“Maybe that’s your problem. You don’t know what you want. No clear goal.” He glanced over at me. “Why?”
I blinked.
Wait.Aranwas the sensible one?
I stared down at my hands, flexing my fingers against the cold like that would help.
“Maybe I don’t want it to happen again.”
“You’re scared,” he said.
I huffed, not even bothering to look at him. He was putting words in my mouth. Didn’t make them less true.
“Of course I’m scared.”
