Before, her magic had been bright, rushing through her like dawn racing across a field at daybreak. It had been tough and always trying to climb free, like wild grapevines twining up trees in the deep, cool parts of the forest. But now, her power is not bright. There’s a slick bubble of heat rising in her where light and forest should be. It is gummy and too hot, sticking to her bones like scorched jam, and her skin burns as blisters spread up her arm, swelling by the second.
