“And then?”
“Then you’re going to need to crack the lid and let some of it out.”
I bite my lip, nodding with quiet determination.
Becks’ eyes flick down to my mouth, his pupils darkening, before he jerks his gaze back to mine.
“Can you concentrate better with your eyes open or closed?” he asks.
“Closed, I think.”
When I shut them this time, I don’t try to feel for my magic, I try visualizing the box I’ve contained it in. I imagine its size and shape, and the texture of the wood, feeling the grain with my mind’s eye. It’s warmed from the magic within. I think of the weight of the box and the lock. Then I picture where I’ve hidden it, deep within me. So far down that it’s hard to access . . .
But it’s there.
Starting at my fingers and toes, I search for the box, feeling like I’m getting closer as I travel up my arms and legs. It’s not in my chest, like I thought it might be, so I go lower, deeper inside, and then suddenly . . .
“I see it,” I whisper.
My breath catches in awe. I can see the box as clearly as if it were physically in front of me.
It’s there in my gut, quiet and unassuming.
“That’s great,” Becks encourages, his voice a low and soothing rumble. “Is it still locked?”
I nod.
“Okay, then try to unlock it.”
I hesitate, and somehow Becks can tell.
“It’s okay, Haven. You’re safe. It’s your magic. It obeys you, not the other way around.”
Taking a shaky breath, I imagine myself reaching out and inserting a key into the lock, slowly turning it.
“After you’ve unlocked the box,” Becks says, “try opening the lid just a little. Just enough to let a small amount of your magic out.”
I reach for the lid to do as Becks directed, but the moment I touch the box, the top explodes right off and it rushes into me in a violent surge, an avalanche of magic that threatens to bury me.
My eyes pop open as purple and red flames engulf me.
Shock flickers across Becks’ face as he reels back, then he schools it away.
“It’s okay. You’re fine,” he says, having to shout to be heard over the blaze enveloping me. “Your magic won’t hurt you.”
I nod, but I can’t stop the panic that fills me as my magic continues to pour from the box.
Becks is saying something, I think giving me tips on how to control it, but I can’t. It’s like it’s been waiting to be freed, and now that it is, it’s refusing to be put back.
The harder I try to control the magic, the more it streams into me until it becomes too much.
I can’t contain it.
It’s going to explode, and fireproof or not, if Becks is in its crosshairs he’s going to get hurt.
At the last second, I turn away from him with a scream, letting the magic out of me in a torrent of purple and red fire that shoots from my hands. The flames race toward a twenty-foot pine tree, slamming into its trunk and engulfing it in seconds.
With the magic finally released, I manage to wrangle what’s left back into the box, snapping the lid shut and locking it tight again.
