She didn’t hesitate. “Then we start now.”
She reached across the space between us and took my hands, her palms warm despite the chill. “You are not too much, Nerina. Not too broken. Not too strange. Your magic doesn’t frighten me..”
My throat tightened. I wasn’t used to being seen without fear. Without expectation.
She gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Together. One breath, one thread of power at a time.”
I nodded, blinking hard, though doubt still clawed beneath my ribs. What if she was wrong? What if there was nothing inside me but chaos—something unteachable, unfixable?
“Show me what it feels like when it begins.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. Beneath the hush of wind and the quiet creak of Skeldrhall’s timbers, I reached for the current on instinct—and missed. There was nothing but silence—empty, hollow, mocking.
Then—
A pulse.
It was there, steady and insistent, like a second heart beating against mine. Warmth stirred in the pit of my stomach, spiraling outward, slipping into my ribs as if they were cracks it had been waiting to escape through.
Terror and awe crashed through me together. This was no accident, no flare of desperation—it was me, calling it. Choosing it. Not my emotions.Me.
The light resisted for a moment, tugging against my intent like a tide testing a shoreline.
The magic didn’t come as a blaze or a crash. It rose slowly, inexorably, like the tide.
Light shimmered beneath my skin—subtle at first, then brighter. I gasped, then realized it wasn’t only me—Eira stilled beside me. But it wasn’t fear when she spoke.
It was wonder. “Stay with it,” she said gently. “Let it rise.”
I wanted to laugh, cry, scream. For years, the only way I’d survived it was by pushing it down, burying it deep so no one could see. Now it wanted out, and every instinct screamed at me to cage it again before it broke me apart.
But I forced myself to obey. I let go.
“Good,” she murmured. “Now shape it.”
I lifted my palm, hands trembling. The magic flared wild, wind surging around us. Snow swirled through cracks in the timbered hall, drawn into a spiral. My hair lifted, each strand reaching toward the light. My heart pounded too fast, fear clawing its way back in.
I struggled—struggled not to crush it down, not to cage it—but to trust it. To trust myself. It vanished.
Eira smiled, gentle and knowing. “Magic responds to intent. So—try to summon an orb.” Her grin flashed, quick and bright. “Yours might look different. Just… think of warmth. Of light.”
I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes again. This time I didn’t think of storms or desperation. I thought of creation. Of safety. Of the comfort I felt wrapped in sunlight. Of the steady burn of stars.
The shimmer gathered in my palm like mist drawn into form. It coalesced slowly, brightening into a soft orb that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Eira’s smile spread wide. “Good.”
The orb wavered as doubt crept in, and my throat tightened. I almost crushed it back down—afraid of losing control—but Eira’s voice cut in, steady.
“Breathe. Center yourself. You’ve got this.”
I drew a deep breath, steadying my pulse, and the light steadied with me.
Eira tilted her head, her tone softening. “Magic isn’t something you perform, Nerina. It’s alive. It listens.”
I looked down at the soft glow hovering over my hand, my chest aching with something dangerously close to hope.
“It gets stronger,” I said quietly, watching the shimmer shift and fade, “when I’m near the Crescent.”
