The vine climbs higher, circling around her knee and then her thigh. Willow holds completely still, her eyes never leaving it.

“Willow—” Tristan says, about to reach for her, but I stop him.

“Don’t,” I say. “It’s . . . fine.”

He knows I would never let anything happen to her, so he nods and stands back as the vine crawls up Willow’s legs and hips then circles her torso and travels down the length of her arm. She watches it, her gaze steady as the rose-covered tendril winds around her fingers. Willow lifts her hand, pointing it towards the sky.

We all wait, suspended in this moment, wondering what new revelation is about to change our reality yet again.

Willow rubs her chest as a spear of red lightning drops from the sky, exploding against her hand. She screams, and I scream, and Tristan yells in surprise.

When it’s over, she stands unharmed.

She lowers her hand, her fingers spread wide as she stares at her palm. The vine then unwinds back in the other direction before it melds with the others.

“What just happened?” I ask, but I think I already know.

We bestowed the first threads of magic on you and your siblings.

“Was that . . .?” Tristan adds.

“Magic,” I say as footsteps pound down the corridor and Nadir and Amya appear at the door.

“We saw Lor’s lightning,” Nadir says. “Is everything okay?”

“It wasn’t me,” I say. “It was Willow.”

CHAPTER 45

“What?” Amya asks. “Willow?”

My sister shakes her head and rubs her chest again. “I feel something. I think . . .”

The Aurora Prince and Princess then take note of our surroundings. It’s impossible to miss the thick carpets of flowers and vines climbing over every surface.

“What happened?” Nadir asks.

“We were standing here, hugging,” I say, “and they started growing.”

“And then one of the vines showed me I have magic.”

“You felt it,” I say. “When we came in here.”

The corner of her mouth ticks up in an uncertain smile. “I didn’t know that’s what I was feeling.”

“Willow! You have magic?” Amya says, running over and throwing her arms around my sister. They kiss and then hug for several long seconds.

“I think so,” Willow says, looking to me and Tristan.

“Try it,” Amya says. “Just concentrate on that feeling in your chest.”

Willow holds out a hand. “Back up,” she says, and we all give her some space.

A moment later, magic springs from her fingertips in crimson whorls, but it isn’t lightning like mine. It’s light and airy and twirls around the space, forming into . . . roses. They float across the room, tumbling down like rain. She pulls her hand back and clutches it to her chest before she looks at me.

“Lor,” she whispers, and I stumble towards her, throwing my arms around her.