He was her sun, the point that she orbited around, her light. And as he held her, the force of his emotions plain through his touch, she felt the withered, cold parts of her that had decayed the moment he’d left spring to life. Like a dying rose given light, she bloomed. And in that, she felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach, a silver magick rumbling awake. She felt the power trapped within her veins roar, felt it alchemise her bloodstream and turn it to pure magick—this power that she had pulled and begged and pleaded with, and finally, with a gasp, it was awake.
