She does. Her eyes are bright, too bright, reflecting power she can’t quite rein in.
“You’re fighting it,” I continue, calmer now. “That’s why it’s rebounding.”
“I’m not,” she insists, too quickly.
I lift one hand. Not touching her, just close enough that she can feel the weight of it.
“You are,” I say. “You’re bracing every time you channel. Anticipating collapse. The Wildspont feels that tension and answers it with force.”
Her jaw tightens. “You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t,” I reply. “But it is… precise.”
She exhales sharply. “Then help me.”
The words land heavier than she intends. I hesitate only a moment before nodding.
“Close your eyes,” I say.
She does, reluctantly.
“Breathe,” I instruct. “Slow. Even. Don’t pull. Don’t push.”
Her breath stutters once, then steadies. I step closer.
“Ground yourself in sensation,” I continue. “Not magic. Feel the stone beneath your feet. The air against your skin. The weight of your body.”
Her shoulders ease a fraction.
“The bond,” I add quietly. “Let it exist. Don’t resist it.”
Her breath catches.
“I don’t know how,” she admits.
I reach for her then and take her hand in mine. The instant our skin meets, the bond flares, warm, resonant, alive. Her magic responds immediately, settling into a smoother, quieter flow. The chaotic spikes dull into a steady hum.
Amelia gasps softly.
“Oh.”
The sound does something dangerous to me.
“Focus there,” I murmur. “ On the balance.”
Her fingers curl around mine without realizing it. The Wildspont calms.
The scorched runes beneath us fade, stone cooling as the excess energy bleeds harmlessly into the earth. The air clears. The tension drains from her posture like water from a cracked vessel.
She opens her eyes. Her gaze flicks to our joined hands. Then back to my face.
“I—” She swallows. “It stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Because of you.”
“Because of us,” I correct before I can stop myself.
