Geoff turned, watching her from the other side of the space.
Tears stung her eyes. “It’s like… like I’m not me anymore. I can see the energy, but I can’t touch it. It’s-it’s like a mist. I don’t understand this.”
Without a word, Geoff crossed to her. He removed his small satchel, dropped it to the side, and wrapped his arms around her in a consoling hug.
Alice froze for a beat, surprised by the sudden warmth of another person—this person. Her instinct was to pull away. He… wasn’t Bálint. But the ache in her chest cracked something open. She let go of the tight hold on her fear—and turned into Geoff, burying her face in his shoulder like a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she muttered. “It feels wrong here. I’ve never felt like this before. I feel… empty… broken.”
Geoff held her tighter. “You’re not broken.”
She sniffed. “But I can’t do anything.”
“Magic isn’t about doing,” he murmured. “It’s about listening.”
She pulled back slightly. “We don’t use magic. We harness the energy around us and control it.”
Geoff tilted his head. “What’s the difference?”
“We—I manipulate the surrounding energy. Energy is a property of matter and fields. It can do work or cause change. I can harness the surrounding energy and transform it from one form to another. Magic is—supernatural stuff. It isn’t real. How can a bunch of words cause things to change? I don’t need spells or words back home. There, I can see the threads of energy and call them to me.”
Geoff released her and walked over to his satchel. “There is power in words. Spells and magic are as real as I am. As Elder and the ancient trees. As this isle. You say you can see the threads of energy on your world. I can see them here. Maybe it’s not that the energy is wrong. It’s just different.” He pulled out two enchanted fire sticks, a woven blanket, and some round, woody nuts.
“Why don’t you sit? It’s getting chilly, and the rain has started. I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, spreading the blanket.
Alice shivered when she heard the rumble of thunder. The air inside the tree was damp, and there was a chill in the air. Geoff must have noticed her shivering because he shrugged out of the woolen coat he was wearing and held it out with one hand.
“That’s okay. You keep it. I don’t want you to get cold,” she said, brushing her sleeve across her damp eyes.
He grinned and held up the fire sticks. “I’ll have a fire in a moment. It won’t take long to warm up.”
Alice grudgingly took his coat and pulled it around her shoulders. It smelled faintly of cedar and smoke. She sat on the blanket as Geoff struck the sticks together, murmuring a spell.
A glow pulsed between them, warm and golden.
He set the nuts on the glowing sticks. They hissed and cracked. Her eyes widened as she noticed the wispy strands of energy clinging to the glowing sticks.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, wishing she could touch it.
He laughed. “It comes in handy. Let’s try another. Watch closely as I say the words.”
As he cast a simple charm, Alice listened as he spoke the words. There was something… magical in the way the energy responded and clung to the words.
The energy here wasn’t raw and crisp. It was soft, almost feathery. It was like looking at the bold, vivid colors of summer compared to the soft pastels of spring. The energy didn’t connect like puzzle pieces—but wove together like a beautiful painting.
Tiny, vibrant threads of color shimmered around his hands—soft gold, varying shades of red, green, yellow, and blue—wrapping and knotting into shapes like the strands of a tapestry.
Her eyes widened. “I see it.”
Geoff smiled. “Good. That’s magic.”
She reached out instinctively, her fingers tingling with the urge to touch it. But the moment her mind tried to grasp the threads—to shape them—they vanished like dew in sunlight.
“I can see it,” she whispered, her voice both awed and aching. “But it slips away the second I try to do anything with it. I still… I still can’t touch it.”
Geoff’s brow furrowed, but he gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re not meant to control it. Just… let it exist. Let it be with you… like the coat you are wearing.”
“I’ll try,” she breathed. “It’s softer, colorful, like a field of wildflowers. It’s also like it’s… alive.”
