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   “Again,” Sigrid commanded from behind me.

Turning slightly sideways, I raised my left arm and held my hand palm-out towards the wooden post that was my target. The guard training ground was thoroughly scorched from my practice, but Sigrid assured me that no one would mind. I focused. Small, straight line, small, straight line, I repeated to myself.

A chaotic blob of fire skittered out of my palm and spiraled away to the right. I sighed.

“Hey don’t worry, we’re getting somewhere,” she said encouragingly.

“If you say so,” I grumbled. I lifted my hand again, this time palm-up. Fountainous flame arose from it, and I tried to will it forward. It grew taller and flattened towards the target, as if being blown by a strong wind, then fizzled out. “Hey Sigrid?”

“Yes?”

“Master Finnigan told me a lot about how spirits heal while treating me yesterday,” I looked at the bandages with painted sigils and runes that covered my right arm, “but I didn’t get a chance to ask…what was wrong with that spirit?” I turned to face her. “What drove it mad?”

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “From how Eva described it, I’d say it was a phoenix spirit. Has anyone explained spirits to you?”

“No. Asa was teaching me the basic types of magic, we hadn’t gotten farther than that.”

“Alright. Spirits start out as humans, and how they become spirits is different for each of them, but there are commonalities. They all are sustained by the type of magic that turned them into spirits originally. Usually they have a basic type, such as elemental or celestial. Phoenix spirits are different. They are mages who tried to cast powerful spells on themselves, and in turning, they become locked in a cycle of their own mana, and can’t take in mana from other sources. Unable to replenish themselves, they slowly starve, and in their starvation, lose their minds.”

She had been solemnly looking down at the scorched ground as she spoke. She raised her eyes and blinked in surprise at the panicked look on my face.

“Wish, what’s wrong?”

“How do I replenish my mana?!”

“Whoa calm down, Master Finnigan said you’re celestial, right? You probably replenish your mana with starlight.”

“So if I go stargazing, I won’t go crazy?”

“I mean we can ask Master Finnigan, or Asa, but yeah probably.”

I breathed yet another sigh, this time of relief. “How do you know so much about spirits? Did Master Finnigan give you lessons too?”

Sigrid looked solemn again, far more solemn than before.

“Yes. It’s standard education for guards, because we have to know how to fight spirits. Sometimes, if a lot of spirits with the same magic type lose access to that type, they desperately try to feed off each other. But they can’t easily feed off mana that is already claimed by another spirit, so they swallow each other whole, and merge into a spirit mob, causing unimaginable destruction.”

She paused to regard me silently, and I felt very small under her scrutiny.

“Wish, if you ever travel to other towns, be warned that others might fear you. Either due to ignorance, or due to bloody experience.”

The intensity in her voice sent chills down my spine. Her gaze softened.

“Don’t worry, I don’t fear you. I fear your terrible aim.” She laughed and gestured to the ground around us. I laughed along nervously.

“Besides, I have a little trick. Perhaps I can teach it to you. Asa wanted all of us to help you learn about magic, right?”

She took my hands in hers and closed her eyes. I did likewise.

“Now, try to sense my mana. I’m going to say out loud what I am thinking about, and I want you to notice how my mana changes. Let’s start with…Asa.”

I could feel-no, see Sigrid’s small reservoir of mana deep within her. As she said Asa’s name, it pulsed a rich shade of blue and hummed a single, clear note.

“Ale-uh, Eva.”

A brief flash of rosy gold that quickly shifted to fresh, spring green, thrumming with life.

“Our town, Haven, and all the people who live here.”

Kaliedoscopic, her mana danced and wove throughout itself in warm, bright colors, like a maypole. But there were edges to it, protectively escorting each individual strand.

“Mad spirits.”

It slowed suddenly, silvery edges sharpening into slowly revolving spikes. Now her voice was barely a whisper.

“Spirit mob.”

Her mana dimmed and retreated into itself, spikes now little more than threatening shadows.  It vibrated like a tuning fork that had been struck, but otherwise held utterly still.

“You.”

Reflexively, I squinted my already-closed eyes against the surge of white brightness. Steady, stable, but with slight shifts this way and that. I realized it was mirroring my own shifts in mana, like a dance partner. I opened my eyes.

Sigrid was smiling at me, eyes open.

“You see, Wish, I don’t have to hold someone’s hand to read their mana. When Eva introduced you, I could tell you were just looking for a place to belong. And if this wasn’t the place, you would have moved on. Any tendency towards vengeance that you might have is on a tight leash.”

She tilted her head as she looked at me.

“I didn’t think about how your mana flow might affect your fighting style though, and now that I’m looking at it in that way…”

Her voice trailed off as she moved behind me, letting go of my hands so she could guide my left arm up and out in a graceful motion. Still trying to read her mana, even with my eyes open, I felt it pulse slightly, and mine pulse in response. A trail of fire followed my hand, then dissipated. Sigrid guided my arm again, this time starting low near my waist before again raising it up and out. A longer flame trailed behind. As we improvised, ribbons of fire tracing our movements, it became a sort of dance. I tried a half-spin away from her, flourishing fire from my right hand in a complex swirl that felt wonderful, then spun back. She smiled.

“Now that’s more your style.”

“Thank you for helping me find it.”

“Of course! I’m just following your lead.”