Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Flint insists that I practice my magick with someone, at least a little bit, every day.
Today, it’s him, with Betsy working in the shop and Annemarie sleeping in someone else’s bed.
Not that I practice a lot with Annemarie — I need a practice partner who can put out a fire if I happen to accidentally start one.
The clearing is quiet. Even the birds seem to be holding their breath, leaving me peace in which to fail spectacularly.
“Okay,” I mutter under my breath. “Again.”
Jesus. Now I sound like Bits.
I draw in a breath so deep it hurts, hold it, and stretch my hands toward the open air. Nothing happens. The pile of tinder that Flint had put out does nothing. Not even a shimmer. No sparks. Nothing.
Last time I tried fire, the clearing seemed to hum. Tonight, it’s just humming with my own embarrassment.
Flint is leaning against a tree a few yards away, arms folded, pretending like he’s not watching super closely. He’s doing that thing again — acting relaxed while his entire body radiates attention. It’s infuriating and endearing and stupidly hot.
Gee, I wonder why I can’t focus long enough to start a fire?
Then I recall our little date night in this same clearing and start to feel hot for an entirely different reason.
Trying to distract myself, I call “I can feel you judging me.”
“I’m observing. Different thing entirely.”
“Feels the same from where I’m standing.”
“Maybe I just like how your ass looks in those leggings.”
That’s not helping my sudden feeling of over-heating.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” He smirks. “Try again. You’re thinking too hard.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe thinking less while trying to start a fire isn’t the way to go?”
“I have.”
“So you realize it sounds ridiculous?”
“Only because you’re being so human about it.”
I throw him a look. “Last I checked, that’s still technically true.”
He doesn’t answer.
I grind my teeth and try again. Betsy said that power follows feeling and intent.
I’m tired of feeling afraid of this. I picture the tinder.
Try to focus, to bring the warmth into my chest, down my arms and into my hands.
But what feeling? I mean, I’ve been scared, been terrified.
Recently, even. Where the hell am I supposed to reach for?
“Okay. Stop.”
Flint strides to me and I let my hands flop to my side.
“Walk me through what happened in your last training session with Betsy.”
I explain, as best I can, since I don’t actually know what happened.
“You felt it?”
I nod, tapping my chest. “Here.”
He seems to consider something. “When you reach for your magick, you always look like you’re searching for something that should be second nature. You’re thinking about what fire should look like instead of what it feels like.”
“I don’t—” Shit. He’s right. I’m chasing what I think it should be instead of going with instinct.
Flint moves until he’s standing beside me, his presence a steady heat at my shoulder. “Try again. Don’t think about lighting a fire. Think about what you feel right now.”
“I feel humiliated.”
“Then you’ll probably start a fire.”
I laugh despite myself, tension loosening in my shoulders.
“Close your eyes and stop fighting yourself.”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
The air around us is heavy with summer. I can smell Flint. I’m trying to clear my mind, but him being there is tugging my awareness back to him.
Then, I feel it. Something stirring. My breath hitches as I try to focus on it.
“What is it?”
“There’s… there’s something there.”
I feel him still next to me. “Where does it start?”
“My chest.”
“Follow it. What’s under it?”
I reach inward. There’s a tightness there, coiled under my ribs. Fear, yes, but something gentler too. It pulses when I think of him standing beside me, the way he never flinches from my uncertainty.
“Warm. It’s warm.”
“Hold that.”
It grows when I focus on it. The warmth spreads through me like water, filling the hollow places. My palms tingle. The air shifts, tasting faintly of ozone and something sweet.
“Flint.” I murmur.
“Right here.”
The warmth builds until it’s almost unbearable. My heart stumbles, catches, and then—
Light.
It spills from my skin, like the feeling made visible. Gold at first, then pale rose, threads of luminescence dancing between my fingers. The clearing fills with a gentle hum of energy, a vibration that feels like it’s coming from inside my bones.
I gasp, half in awe, half in terror. “Flint— it’s—I—”
“I see it.” His voice is rough, low. “You’re glowing.”
The light brightens as he speaks, like it hears him. My hair lifts in the faint current, every strand catching the radiance.
“What is this?” I whisper.
“It’s your magick, love.” He pauses. “Your power.”
“Wait, what? What’s my power? My power is that I’m a glow stick?”
“No, witchling. It looks like your power is emotions.”
It’s beautiful and terrifying. Because the more feelings start to clash inside me, the stronger the light seems to glow.
“So what emotion is this?”
“You tell me.”
I close my eyes again and try to focus. What feeling is this? Making my skin tingle, my body hum. That makes everything feel warm, makes me glow.
My eyes fly open.
“Love.” I whisper.
As the word leaves my mouth, memories begin flickering in my mind, like water reflecting on water. A girl, with laughter like bells. Blond hair braided with ribbons. My hands cupping her face, promising her something I can’t quite hear.
“Lila.” I breathe. The name feels foreign and familiar at the same time.
Flint jerks next to me. “What did you say?”
“I— I saw someone.” My throat tightens. “A little girl. My sister, maybe? She had a gap in her teeth and she—”
The image slips away, like trying to hold onto mist. The light around me flares then falters.
“Don’t chase it.” Flint says quickly, stepping closer. “Let it come and go.”
“No! I don’t want to lose it.”
“You won’t.” His hand hovers near my shoulder but doesn’t touch me. “You’re remembering pieces. That’s what this is.”
“Pieces of what?!”
“Pieces of you, love.”
The air vibrates again, softer this time. The glow ebbs until it’s just a faint shimmer on my skin, like starlight refusing to let go.
When I finally open my eyes, the clearing looks different. Sharper, almost luminous, as if I’m seeing more of it than before. Flint is watching me with an expression I can’t read.
“How long was I—?”
“A minute. Maybe less.”
“It felt like forever.”
“In my experience, most real things do.”
I sink down on a log, legs shaking. My hands are trembling, but I don’t think it’s from fear. There’s exhilaration buzzing under my skin, the echo of something vast and ancient pressing against the edges of my awareness.
Flint crouches in front of me, forearms resting on his knees. The light dancing through the trees paints his skin in soft shadows.
“How do you feel?”
“Like my heart’s too big for my body,” I say honestly. “And like I just saw a ghost of someone who loved me. Who knew me… before.”
He exhales slowly. “That’s not a bad start.”
“Was that— was that the magick?”
“It was.”
“And that’s my power?”
He nods. “It was yours. You pulled from love, didn’t you?”
I hesitate. “Maybe. It felt… safe. Warm. It started when I thought about how you— how you believe in me, even when I don’t.”
Something flickers across his face, too quickly to name. “Then it sounds like you did it right.”
I look down at my fingertips, still faintly glowing, the shimmer fading from my arms. “Was it mine?”
“No.”
His gaze is steady.
“Was it yours?”
He nods. “You were always good at that.”
The phrasing catches me. “Always?”
He goes still, realizing what he’s said. “Fucking old habits,” he mutters.
“You talk like we’ve done this before.”
He hesitates and seems to brace himself, weighing his words. “We have. In ways you don’t remember.”
The words hang between us, heavy with prophecy.
He stands, offering me a hand. When I take it, a spark jumps between us — small, but unmistakable.
He gives a faint, crooked smile. “Still connected.”
My pulse stutters. “What does that mean?”
“Only that you’re not as alone as you think.”
“You knew me? Before?”
Another small nod.
I can feel the excess energy still lingering in the air. Excitement bubbles inside me.
“Then you can tell me everything! You can fill in all these blanks in my mind.” I laugh and even I can hear the edge of hysteria. “I don’t have to feel crazy anymore.”
“No, baby. No. I can’t.”
Like a switch has been flipped, my giddy joy turns on its head and I’m suddenly on the verge of tears. “But why?” Was I a terrible person? A monster?
Flint grips my hand, using his other one to turn my face to his.
“No, love. But there are things I can’t tell you.
There are stronger magicks than mine at work and I, and Betsy and Calida, we all have to step back and let you remember organically.
” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “You will, in time.”
He leads me toward the path in silence. The world feels both brand new and achingly familiar. I feel hopeful and terrified. The answers to all of my questions seem so close and so far away.
Finally, I say, “That name —Lila. It felt important. “
“It is.”
“…you know her?”
He hesitates just long enough to make my stomach twist. “I do. You loved her more fiercely than anyone.”
“So she’s real? I didn’t imagine her.”
He nods.
The air feels thick with questions that I’m not ready to ask. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m afraid he can’t or won’t answer them, or if I’m afraid he will.
“Was she… from Goira?”
He looks at me sidelong, a small smile ghosting over his mouth. “Yes.”
“Was that a straight answer?”
“I’ll do what I can."
I want to push, to demand more, but the warmth inside me is starting to ebb and exhaustion is starting to set in. Instead, I sigh. “You’re infuriating.”
“So I’ve been told.”
When we reach the end of the clearing, I glance back. The tinder I had been trying to light glows faintly, a residual simmer of gold.
“I did that.”
“You did,” Flint says. “And you’ll do more. Much more.”
He sounds unshakably certain.
I look up at him, the calm in his eyes and I believe him. Maybe it’s his unyielding belief, but I do.
“When I was glowing, what did you see?”
He seems to be choosing his words carefully as he considers, then answers with a reverence that makes my throat ache. “I saw you. The way you were always meant to be.”
Something inside me trembles.
“Feels like I’ve done this before,” I mutter.
“You have.” He doesn’t elaborate and I stop pressing.
The light breeze curls around us, carrying the scent of wildflowers. Somewhere deep in my chest, a forgotten part of me stirs at it.
I feel the echo in my soul, and the light under my skin hums in answer.