The lights exploded. Not flickered.Exploded.Glass rained down as every bulb in the room burst simultaneously.
People screamed. Chairs scraped. Someone yelled about calling security.
And Cassie sat at the center of it all, glowing like a human nightlight, surrounded by floating office supplies, completely unable to make it stop.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Dana was pressed against the wall, her rotating phone now joined by a stapler and someone’s reading glasses.
Cassie’s boss stared at her with an expression of dawning horror. “Cassie? Are you… is this…?”
She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The magic was a living thing now, wild and scared and feeding on her panic.
The door burst open.
Liam stood in the doorway, chest heaving like he’d run the whole way. His eyes found her immediately—glowing, terrified, surrounded by chaos—and his expression shifted from panic to determination.
“Everyone out,” he said, in a voice that left no room for argument. “Now.”
“Who the hell are you?” her boss demanded.
“I’m the only person in this building who can fix this.Out.”
Something in his tone—or maybe something in the way the floating objects had started spinning faster, forming a small tornado of office supplies around Cassie’s head—convinced them. People fled. Dana actually climbed over a chair in her haste to escape.
Then it was just Cassie and Liam and the magical disaster she’d created.
“Hey.” He was moving toward her slowly, hands up like she was a spooked animal. “Look at me. Just me.”
“I can’t—I can’t make it stop?—”
“I know. That’s okay.” He reached her, took her hands. The spark jumped between them, and she felt him—solid, grounded, calm. An anchor in the storm. “Breathe with me. You remember how.”
“Everyone saw. Everyonesaw, Liam.”
“That’s a problem for later. Right now, just breathe.”
She tried. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. His thumbs traced circles on her wrists, the same way they had during the thunderstorm. The same steadiness. The same patience.
“Find the center,” he murmured. “All that power—it’s yours. It’s not controlling you. You’re controlling it. You just forgot.”
“I forgot to ground. All day. I was so excited about the promotion and the car and?—”
“I know. It’s okay. We’ll deal with that later. Right now, just feel it. Don’t fight it. Just… redirect.”
She closed her eyes. The magic was huge inside her—bigger than she’d ever felt. But Liam was right. It was hers. It had always been hers.
She imagined roots. Not into the conference room floor, but through it—down through concrete and dirt and stone, all the way to the earth’s core. She imagined the excess energy flowing down, draining away, returning to the source.
The floating objects began to descend.
“That’s it,” Liam said. “You’ve got it. Keep going.”
One by one, the pens and pencils and phones settled back onto the table. The golden glow faded from her skin. The spinning stopped.
When she opened her eyes, the room was trashed but stable. Broken glass everywhere. Chairs overturned. A motivational poster about teamwork hanging at a sad diagonal.
But the magic was contained. Finally, blessedly contained.
“I did it,” she whispered.
