Lyra grinned, and the sparkle came back into her eye. “Of course not! I may not be able to do anything about it, but there’s nothing saying you can’t.”
Gwyn lifted her head, and the air around her turned fragile as spun glass. “What can I do?”
“Well,” Lyra drawled, linking her arm with Gwyn’s, “I may not know how to break the binding, but I can teach you how to make a door.”
“A door?” Gwyn asked, thinking of the many doors Lyra always insisted she find on her own. “Can’t I already do that?”
“Yes and no. You know how to find a door if you have to, but it’s always better to know how to make one. Doors are handy things, but only if they’re there.”
She took a deep breath. What if she got it wrong? What if her magic was just a fluke? A happy accident that couldn’t be repeated. She’d changed her gloves every morning back in the Garden, and she’d taken one or the other off every so often. But the magic had never happened there.
Lyra put a hand on her arm. “You won’t know unless you try. And the more you try, the easier it will come to you.”
“But what if,” her voice cracked, “it doesn’t work. Back there?”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything before, because what if your heart gets broken?” Lyra took hold of Gwyn’s wrist and held up her hand. Shooting stars still fell from her fingers into a golden dust that dissipated into the air. “But you know now, Gwyn. You know!”
The sparks of magic warmed her from the inside out with their sense of rightness, but fear was a cunning creature that crouched in shadows. “But why here? Why now? Why couldn’t I do this back there?”
“I don’t know. Magic is a wily thing. It comes when it comes. Sometimes it’s called, and sometimes it’s not. Who can say?” Lyra shrugged.
“But just because it came so easily now, doesn’t mean it’ll be there when I want it. When I need it.” The shadow stretched across her insides, dimming the light of her magic.
“Magic always comes where it’s needed. The key is in knowing where to look and the difference between wish and need.” Lyra stared off into the distance, and her voice softened. “Sometimes it’s as small as an oak tree sprouting from an acorn. And sometimes it’s big enough to rework the fabric of the world. But most of the time, magic falls somewhere in between the two.”
“Do you think I can do this?”
Lyra nodded, once, decisive and sharp.
Gwyn took another deep breath. “All right, then. Show me how to make a door.”
. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .
© 2015 by Danyelle Leafty. All rights reserved.
Magic is, indeed, an untamed creature. So too is fear, when it first comes to us. The difference is that fear is possible to tame while magic, well, magic will be magic. That’s why it’s so important to be polite. :p
Join me next Tuesday to see how the door making lesson goes. There are times when it would be nice to take something from a story and turn it into Real. The ability to find and create doors is one of those. 🙂
If this is your first time visiting, check out the first installment of this episode. Feel free to gather round the hearth and read the other stories that are going on too. The more the merrier!
If you like, feel free to join me tomorrow as we follow the adventures of a certain Queen of the Nearly Dead Fae in training. 🙂