“No. Well, yes, that too, but my mother always said I was a nervous child. She said I would make myself sick with worry.” Nova gave a small laugh. “The fire did not help. But it was merely one consequence of many I feared.”

“What kind of things did you fear?”

“Oh, anything and everything. Some of which were reasonable—being caught, not having enough money, disappointing my parents, not being able to control my magic. For those, I would catch myself playing out elaborate worst scenarios, torturing myself again and again under the guise of being prepared. Some fears were harder to explain. Sometimes I would convince myself that things were my fault. That a storm had come because I had stitched a button wrong, or been too slow with my work duties, or talked with too many people that day. Some days I would wake up convinced that something awful was going to happen—and I would wait with this gnawing ache all day, feeling too ill to eat, certain that something dire was sure to occur. I constantly wavered between feeling to the point of exhaustion and shutting myself away with the goal of avoidance—neither of which helped.”

“What did help?” Jinx asked.

“Honestly?” Nova asked. “This helps. This balance. Before, I used to go to a quiet place in my head and breathe, try to let the thoughts pass without engaging. Sometimes I would count. I would try to distract myself from falling down those endless sinkholes of agony and paranoia and never being enough.”

“Wow,” Jinx breathed. “That’s beautiful.”

Confused on how any of what she said could be beautiful, Nova opened her eyes and found that she had produced a tall, thin flame from the valley of her hands.

“See if you can manipulate it. Make it shorter, then taller.”

Nova took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on the eerily still flame. It did not flicker, nor swirl about in her hand. It stood as straight as a blade, still seamlessly flowing with the rest of her magic. Slowly, she did as Jinx asked, shortening the loop until the flame was as small as a fingernail, then pushing it back out even farther than she had loosed it before. She let it grow to the length of a dagger, and wondered if with enough practice she might craft a sword of fire for herself. If she could, that meant she would never be without a weapon, never be helpless again.

Jinx cupped Nova’s hands with her own, and she stared in wonder. The shock of the touch broke Nova’s concentration, the flame flickered wildly, then disappeared altogether, casting them back into sudden darkness.

“Scorch it all,” Jinx uttered. “Sorry. I distracted you.”