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Rage and fury grew inside me, dangerous in any magic user, me in particular, but I used it, clinging to anger rather than my suffering to do the next necessary thing: think. Reason my way out of it.
Baking was predictable: follow the instructions to the letter, and the likelihood of failure was close to nil. My anxiety could handle baking.
“I have to wonder if your goal is getting kidnapped by a dark wizard.” “Very much depends on the size of his library,” I quipped back.
