Another World

I stood in darkness so complete that, at first, I thought my eyes were still closed.

Then the ground beneath me began to glow.

Crimson light seeped through thin cracks at my feet, pulsing slowly enough that I could count the spaces between each flare. With every pulse came a strange warmth through the soles of my feet, crawling upward until my own heartbeat seemed to be following it.

Something burned in my palms.

I looked down, but there was nothing there. The pain came from beneath my skin, a thousand little pinpricks spreading through my fingers and wrists until I opened my mouth to scream.

A hand clamped over it.

Its skin was cold and damp against my lips.

I jerked backward, but something held me in place. When the crimson light brightened again, a man stood directly in front of me.

I hadn’t seen him approach.

His face looked dead. Skin sagged from his cheeks in gray patches, and the places where his eyes should have been were sunk deep into shadow. A sweet, rotten smell filled the space between us.

I tried to pull away, but his other hand caught my wrist.

Mom’s bracelet was still there. I could see the dark-red bead between his fingers.

Then another band slid over it.

Heavy black metal closed around my wrist, trapping the bracelet underneath. A second appeared around my other arm, and before I understood what was happening, both began to tighten.

I screamed against the hand covering my mouth.

I twisted my arms, trying to pull free. The bands dug into me until I couldn’t think about anything except getting them off.

The man’s hand slipped away from my mouth.

“Stop.” My voice barely worked. “Please, stop.”

His expression didn’t change.

The pressure increased.

Crunch.

Both of my hands hit the ground.

For several seconds, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. They lay in the crimson light a few feet away from me, fingers spread against the black ground while blood ran from the ends of my wrists and disappeared into the glowing cracks below.

I screamed.

The man smiled, his mouth stretching farther than it should have as he reached slowly inside his coat. When his hand came back out, there was a knife in it.

The blade was already wet.

“Stay away from me!”

He stepped closer.

“Stay away!”

I woke with my own voice still in my ears.

My hands were tangled in the quilt. I pulled them free and turned them over, then pushed my sleeves back to check my wrists. There was nothing wrong with them. I kept looking anyway.

I sat against the headboard, breathing hard while the room slowly returned around me: the little table, the window, the chair. Morning light slipped through the curtains, and somewhere below me someone dragged a chair across the tavern floor.

I was still at the inn.

For a while I couldn’t make myself move. Then my fingers found the bracelet, and the instant I felt the metal, I remembered the bands tightening.

I pulled it off and set it on the table.

The dark-red bead rested against the wood. It was the same bracelet Mom had fastened around my wrist, and now I couldn’t stand having it touch me.

It was a dream.

I knew that. I still rubbed both wrists before getting out of bed.

My clothes were dirty from the forest, and one sleeve of my hoodie had been blackened near the elbow by the hellhound’s fire. I left it alone and went to the window, where I could see people moving along the street below.

A small plant sat on the windowsill beside me, its leaves a mix of red and orange despite everything outside being green. Several long thorns grew between them.

I watched someone disappear into a shop and tried to decide how long I could stay up here. Eventually I’d have to go downstairs. I hoped Lyra was still there, but what came after finding her? What was I supposed to do if she had somewhere else to be?

Mom was somewhere I couldn’t reach. Even if Lyra believed me about another world, that didn’t mean she could help me get home.

My breathing had almost settled after the nightmare. Now I was trying to take a full breath again and not quite managing it.

Then I remembered Lyra’s hand around my wrist, the green light beneath her fingers, and how easily I’d been able to breathe afterward.

My eyes settled on one of the thorns.

If I got hurt, Lyra could heal me.

I didn’t like how quickly I’d thought of it. I could just ask her, couldn’t I? Except then I’d have to explain that the burn was gone and I still wanted her to do it again.

I pushed my sleeve back, held my arm near the plant, and pulled it away.

“What am I doing?”

Saying it aloud didn’t make the idea disappear. If Lyra asked what happened, I’d have to lie to her. She’d found me a place to sleep, and this was what I was thinking about doing the next morning.

I pressed my forearm against one of the thorns before I could reconsider.

It caught harder than I expected. I flinched away, leaving a thin cut across my skin, and watched a bead of blood gather at one end.

For a moment I just stood there. I wanted the cut gone already, but I couldn’t undo the fact that I’d put it there.

A knock came at the door.

“Aria? You awake?”

Lyra. I looked toward the door.

“Mm?”

“I found you something to wear. Figured you could use something clean.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

My sleeve was still pushed back, leaving the cut visible.

There was a short pause from the hallway.

“I can leave them outside if you’re still getting dressed.”

“No, I can…” The words caught, and I cleared my throat. “I can get them. Just a second.”

I opened the door just wide enough to step into the gap.

Lyra stood there holding a folded stack of clothes against one hip. She looked much more awake than I felt.

“Morning.”

“M-morning.”

She looked at my face a little longer than I wanted.

“Rough night?”

“A bit.”

She didn’t ask anything else, which I was grateful for.

She held the clothes toward me. “Otto dug these out for you. They should fit.”

I took the stack and hugged it against myself.

“Thank you.”

“He guessed the size, so we’ll see how he did.”

Lyra’s attention dropped to my exposed forearm.

“What’d you do there?”

My face warmed.

“The plant by the window. I… caught it on one of the thorns.”

Lyra leaned to look past me.

“That little red thing? I’m pretty sure its only purpose is stabbing whoever stays in this room.”

“It’s pretty good at it,” I said, then worried that I’d answered too quickly.

Lyra only held out her hand.

“Here, lemme see. It’ll take me two seconds.”

I considered telling her it was fine, but then I’d have done all of this for nothing.

I slowly held out my arm.

Her fingers settled lightly around my wrist, and green light bloomed beneath them. The cut disappeared. A second later, the tightness in my chest eased so suddenly that I stopped watching my arm.

I could take a full breath.

My shoulders lowered, and I noticed how tightly I’d been holding the clothes against myself. I loosened my grip, waiting while the rest of that familiar warmth spread through me.

“There. Good as new.”

“Thank you.”

Lyra nodded toward the clothes. “Get changed and come downstairs when you’re ready. Otto made breakfast.”

“Okay.”

She headed toward the stairs. I stayed in the doorway until she reached them, relieved that she was still here and horribly aware that I’d just lied to her.

I shut the door.

There wasn’t even a mark where the thorn had caught me. I rubbed the spot once, then unfolded the clothes Lyra had brought.

There was a long white tunic with a dark high collar underneath, dark trousers, and a fitted teal vest that laced up the front. A small pouch hung from the belt. Folded beneath everything was a white hooded mantle that rested over my shoulders and fastened at the front.

A pair of short white-and-teal lace-up boots sat with the rest.

I changed, fumbling with the laces on the vest for a minute before getting them to sit right. The whole thing looked a lot more like it belonged in Rovelle than anything I’d ever worn.

Afterward, I folded the clothes I’d arrived in and set them together on the chair.

The hoodie was damaged and the rest needed washing, but they were mine. Mom had seen me wearing them only yesterday, or whatever counted as yesterday back home.

I wasn’t throwing them away.

Before leaving, I picked up Mom’s bracelet. I held it near my wrist, then put it in my belt pouch instead. I couldn’t wear it yet, but at least I wouldn’t have to leave it behind.

Downstairs, Kai had claimed almost exactly the same patch of floor beside the hearth as yesterday. She lifted her head when she saw me and thumped her tail once against the boards.

“Morning.”

Kai yawned so widely I could see almost every tooth in her mouth.

I smiled. “Mhm. I feel about the same.”

Lyra was sitting at one of the tables nearby, her spear propped against the wall beside her. The table was empty except for two cups.

She looked over as I approached.

“Looks like Otto guessed right.”

I sat across from her and glanced down at the clothes.

“Mostly. The pants needed a little help.”

“Close enough.”

Before I had time to answer, Otto came out from behind the bar carrying two plates.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” I said quietly.

He set one plate in front of Lyra and the other in front of me. Eggs, bread, and something close enough to fried potatoes that I decided not to investigate further.

Kai lifted her head at the smell. By the time Otto turned back toward the bar, she had wandered over and planted herself beside Lyra’s chair, staring at her plate with complete concentration.

“No,” Lyra told her.

Kai continued staring. After a moment, Lyra picked up a piece of bread.

“Lyra.” Otto stopped without turning around.

Her hand froze. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re about to.”

Lyra looked at the bread, then ate it herself. Kai watched the whole thing with an expression I understood completely.

I lowered my eyes to my plate before either of them caught me smiling.

Otto shook his head and headed back toward the bar.

I turned to him.

“Um… could I leave my other clothes upstairs for now? I don’t really want to throw them away.”

“The ones you came in?”

I nodded.

“Room’s yours while you’re here. Leave whatever you want.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He waved it off.

There were fewer people in the tavern than last night. Most of the noise came from Otto getting things ready behind the bar or someone moving around in the kitchen, and for a while I was happy to eat without talking.

I’d been rubbing Mom’s bracelet through the pouch at my belt. When I noticed, I let go of it and tried to work out how to start.

Yesterday I’d barely managed I think I’m from another world. I’d gone to sleep worrying that Lyra didn’t believe me, but I hadn’t exactly given her much to believe.

“Lyra?”

She looked up. “What’s up?”

“About yesterday. The…” I lowered my voice. “Other-world thing.”

“Ah. That.” She set down her fork.

“I explained it really badly.”

“You’d just been chased through the woods and set on fire. I wasn’t expecting much of an explanation.”

“Could I… try again?”

“Of course.”

I glanced toward the other tables. Nobody seemed to be listening, but I kept my voice low anyway.

“Where I came from doesn’t have magic. Not real magic, anyway. We don’t have hellhounds or wyverns, and people don’t light things by touching them.”

“None of it?”

I shook my head.

“We have stories about it. Games. Movies. But nobody can actually do any of this.”

Lyra rested one forearm against the table.

“That explains why you were so surprised when I healed you.”

“I thought I was imagining it at first.”

“Even after Kai?”

I glanced down at the enormous wolf beside her chair. “Especially after Kai.”

Lyra smiled, but waited for me to continue.

I took a breath.

“I was with Mom before I woke up here. We were practicing archery in our backyard. I’d finished shooting, and I was going to sit down when…” I looked down at my hands. “I just fell. I couldn’t even hold myself up.”

“And then?”

“Mom was holding me. She called for an ambulance.”

“An ambulance?”

“It’s… a vehicle. People come in it to help when someone’s badly hurt or sick.”

“Alright.”

“I remember her holding my hand. I could hear her, but I couldn’t seem to answer properly. I don’t know if I passed out, or if…” I stopped.

I couldn’t make myself say died.

I pressed my thumb against the edge of the table, trying not to picture Mom’s face. Lyra waited while I found somewhere else to start.

“There was something else.”

“What?”

“My bracelet got warm.”

“The one you had yesterday?”

I nodded.

“It had been cool before, but then I felt the warmth spreading up my arm. When I closed my eyes, I saw this light.”

“What kind?”

“Red. Crimson, I guess.”

“Crimson magic…” Lyra looked down at the table, thinking.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“No. I’m trying to think whether I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

“Oh.”

“And I don’t know whether it was magic. The bracelet warming up makes me wonder, but I couldn’t tell you what it did.”

I’d hoped she would know as soon as I described it. Now I wasn’t sure what else there was to say.

“The other-world part is difficult to believe,” she continued. “You understand that, right?”

I nodded. “I know. I just… I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Well, you were in your own yard, then you woke up in the north woods. Something happened. We can at least try to find out what.”

“We can?”

“I can ask somebody who knows more than I do. The Marlows have a library at the estate. There might be something useful in there.”

“Who are they?”

“The Marlows have led and trained Rovelle’s city guard for generations. Fighting is basically the family business.”

“And you work for them?”

“At the estate, yeah. I train people there, including two of the sons. Their uncle knows his way around the archives. The family’s collected spellbooks, campaign journals, all kinds of old records. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Would he know anything about crimson magic?”

“Maybe. He’d know where to look.”

“Could we talk to him?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Today?”

“If he’s around.”

I looked down at my plate. It wasn’t an answer, but it was somewhere to go and someone to ask. I’d had neither when I woke up.

“Thank you. For… helping with all of this.”

“We haven’t found anything yet.”

“I know.” I meant it anyway.

I should have gone back to breakfast. Instead, I kept looking at the spot on my arm where the cut had been.

“Can I ask something else?”

“Go for it.”

“Could you teach me magic?”

“Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Healing.”

“Healing?” Lyra asked. “Most people ask me about fire first.”

“I’ve seen enough fire.”

She glanced at my arm, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

I rubbed my thumb over the place where the cut had been.

“If somebody gets hurt, I don’t want to just stand there.”

That was true. I just left out that the person I’d been thinking about most was me.

“Alright. I can get you started.”

“Really?”

“I’m not a mage, but my mother made sure I learned the useful bits.”

“What did she do?”

“She was a cleric. Healing, light magic, simple enchantments. She taught me mana control, how to close basic wounds, make light, start a flame without setting myself on fire.”

“And your dad?”

Lyra nodded toward her spear. “He handled the other half of my education.”

“The fighting part?”

“Exactly.”

I looked at the spot she’d healed. She’d done it so easily that it was difficult to imagine her struggling with any of it.

“Is healing hard to learn?”

“It takes practice. I can teach you what I know, and if you need more than that, we’ll find somebody better.”

“That would be… really nice.”

Otto passed behind her carrying plates.

“God help the kid.”

Lyra turned in her chair.

“You wanna teach her?”

“No.”

“Then keep walking.”

Otto kept walking.

I hid my smile behind my cup.

When we finished breakfast, Lyra stood and reached for her spear.

“We’ll be at the Marlow estate anyway. Might as well use the training grounds while we’re there.”

“Now?”

“Unless there’s something you need to do first.”

I shook my head. I’d asked her to teach me. I just hadn’t expected to be doing it before I’d even finished my drink.

Lyra looked down beside her chair. “Kai? You coming?”

The wolf thumped her tail once, then lowered her head onto her paws.

“Love the enthusiasm.”

I put my cup down and followed Lyra before she reached the door.

Outside, Rovelle was already fully awake.

The streets were crowded with people moving between shops and market stalls, carts squeezing through the wider roads while merchants called from beneath cloth awnings. Yesterday, every unfamiliar thing had demanded my attention. Today I could at least keep walking while I stared.

A woman stood beside a stall warming a kettle between her hands, a faint orange glow flickering around her fingers. Two stones floated above the entrance of a nearby shop, shining brightly enough to replace lanterns.

Something small and winged darted between the rooftops before disappearing behind a chimney.

I stayed close beside Lyra. Whenever someone approached from the opposite direction, I moved out of their way sooner than I needed to and usually found somewhere else to look.

At a narrow crossing, a cart passed between us. Lyra stopped on the other side while I stood there trying to see around it.

“Still here,” she said when it had gone.

I hurried across. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

My breathing was still easy, but I stayed close enough afterward that I didn’t have to keep checking whether she was there.

The farther north we went, the wider the streets became. Shops gradually gave way to stone walls, gardens, barracks, and broad courtyards where groups of uniformed guards moved between buildings.

Then the Marlow estate rose into view.

A high white wall enclosed most of the hill ahead, blue-and-white banners hanging above its gate. Beyond it stood several large stone buildings surrounding open training yards, while farther uphill, partly hidden behind the trees, a pale castle overlooked everything below.

I slowed. “That’s where they live?”

Lyra followed my gaze uphill.

“The family lives up there. Most of what you’re looking at down here belongs to the guard.”

“That whole castle?”

“That whole castle.”

I followed her toward the gate.

Two guards stood at the entrance. One recognized Lyra and raised a hand. They exchanged a greeting, and he waved us through without another question.

The grounds inside were busier than they’d looked from the street. Guards and knights trained across several courtyards while instructors moved between them, correcting stances or shouting over the clash of weapons.

Magic was mixed into everything so casually that I kept catching pieces of it a second too late.

A sword flashed blue as it struck another blade. A blast of wind sent a training dummy rocking backward. Across the yard, sparks crackled over someone’s forearms while his partner raised a shield.

I tried to watch without getting in anybody’s way. Lyra let me stare as we crossed the edge of the main courtyard, then led me around one of the training halls.

A patch of grass stretched behind it toward an old stone wall, with several weathered targets set along the far end. The sounds of the larger courtyard were still there, but distant enough that I didn’t feel like I was standing in the middle of everybody.

Lyra rested her spear against the wall. “This should work.”

I stood a few feet away, unsure what to do with my hands. Asking at breakfast had been easier than this part.

“So,” Lyra said, “what do you know about mana?”

“Not much. In games it’s usually just… the thing you use up when you cast spells.”

“For someone from a place without magic, that’s pretty close.”

“It usually has a little bar.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” Explaining a game screen seemed like a much harder lesson than the one I was supposed to be having.

Lyra held out one hand. A small white light appeared above her palm.

“Mana’s the energy magic uses. You’ve got it too. First you need to learn to notice it before you try to do anything with it.”

The white light disappeared, replaced by a tiny orange flame. I leaned closer.

“You can do fire too?”

“A little.”

“But you said you weren’t a mage.”

“Making a flame this size doesn’t make me one.” She closed her hand, snuffing it out, then picked up her spear and touched two fingers to the blade. Pale light spread across the metal. “Most fighters learn a few useful things. Reinforcing a weapon, for instance.”

I watched until the glow faded. It looked fairly impressive to me, but I supposed I wasn’t the best person to judge.

“Put me next to somebody who actually studies magic all day and the difference gets embarrassing pretty fast,” she said, planting the spear beside her. “Alright. Close your eyes.”

I did. For several seconds, I waited to feel something.

“Um… what am I looking for?”

“My mother used to tell me to picture a little light somewhere in my chest,” Lyra continued. “Worked for her. Didn’t work for me at all.”

“What did you use?”

“A river. The picture doesn’t matter much. You’re just giving yourself somewhere to start.”

A flame seemed easiest. I pictured a tiny one somewhere beneath my ribs, burning steadily in the dark, then made it brighter. Nothing happened.

I imagined it spreading outward. That mostly made me aware that I was standing in a field with my eyes closed, pretending there was a fire inside me.

“I don’t think I’m doing it.”

“You might just be concentrating on the picture. Leave it for a second.”

I opened my eyes. “How will I know when it’s actually mana?”

“It won’t be something you have to keep imagining.” Lyra considered me for a moment. “Try starting with what you want to do. Why healing?”

“So I can help if somebody gets hurt.”

“Can you picture that? Not the light or anything fancy. Just what you’d want to happen.”

My eyes dropped to my hands. The first thing I pictured was her taking my wrist upstairs.

I wasn’t going to tell her about the thorn. I didn’t know how to explain the rest of it either, but I could think about what her healing had let me do.

Yesterday, she’d touched my arm, and my body had simply stopped fighting me. This morning, she’d done it again. I’d walked through Rovelle with people passing within arm’s reach, and although I’d kept worrying about losing her, I’d been able to keep going.

Without her magic, I didn’t know if I could have left the inn.

I didn’t want to need her every time I had to go outside. She’d already done so much for me, and I’d started worrying about when I could ask her to do it again.

“I don’t want to have to depend on someone every time something goes wrong,” I said.

Lyra waited.

“Just… being able to do something myself. That’s what I want.”

“Then start there. Close your eyes and think about that.”

Back home, opening my bedroom door had been something I needed to work myself up to. Getting into Mom’s car had been worse. I wanted to go downstairs without standing at the top of the steps first, or walk through a store without working out how quickly I could get back outside.

Yesterday, I’d wanted to sit in my own backyard with Mom. She’d had to leave the door open before I could manage it.

Capable.

That was probably the closest word I had for it. I wanted to feel capable again.

I let myself think about going downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table, and staying there because I wanted to.

Something shifted beneath my ribs. At first, I thought it was my heartbeat, except the sensation sat slightly lower and didn’t disappear between pulses. A faint pressure rested there, almost like I’d been holding my breath without realizing it.

“There,” I said. “I think I felt something.”

“Good. Don’t chase it.”

I tried to get a better sense of where it was, and the feeling vanished.

My eyes opened. “I lost it.”

“That’s alright. You found it once.”

I closed my eyes again. This time I went back to those ordinary things: my bedroom door, the stairs, Mom’s car. Deciding where I wanted to go and simply going there.

The pressure returned. I nearly reached for it again, then stopped myself.

“Got it?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Don’t pull at it. Give it somewhere to go.”

“Where?”

“Your hand.”

I focused on my right hand, then tried harder when nothing moved. My eyebrows pulled together.

“Aria, relax your face.”

I opened my eyes. “My face?”

“And your hand. You don’t need to clench it.”

I looked down. My fingers had curled into my palm without me noticing. I opened them and let my arm hang more loosely.

“Better. You know where you want the mana. Keep your attention there without trying to drag it over.”

I closed my eyes again. The pressure was still there, and this time I left it alone while I focused on my hand.

Something faint moved beneath my skin. It reminded me of the pins-and-needles feeling after my arm fell asleep, except it traveled slowly from my chest toward my shoulder.

I tried to follow the sensation too closely and lost it.

“Oh, come on.”

“You got it moving,” Lyra said. “Try again.”

The next attempt made it halfway down my arm. The one after that reached my wrist before vanishing.

I opened my eyes and rubbed my hand, as if that might help.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re getting farther each time. You don’t need to change anything yet.”

“It keeps stopping.”

“You’ve been at this for maybe five minutes, Aria. Give yourself a chance.”

I looked down at my hand again. It had felt longer than that.

On the next attempt, the pressure came back a little easier. I kept my attention on my hand while the tingling worked its way down my arm.

Shoulder. Elbow. Wrist.

This time it slipped into my palm.

“There you go,” Lyra said quietly. “Open your eyes.”

A faint green light trembled around two of my fingers. I stared at it, and it flickered out.

“No. Wait…”

I turned my hand over as though the light might be hiding on the other side. My fingers looked exactly as they had before.

“You saw that, right?”

“I did.”

A smile started pulling at my mouth. “I did magic.”

“You did.”

I looked at my hand again. I’d missed most of it, but that had been mine.

Lyra let me stare before tugging one of her gloves halfway off. A shallow scrape crossed one of her knuckles.

“You still want healing?”

“Yes.” I stepped closer, then noticed the scrape. “What happened?”

“Training yesterday.”

“You just left it?”

“It’s a scratch.” She held her hand toward me. “Good place to start.”

“Already? I could barely keep the light there.”

“You got the mana into your hand. Now we’ll try using it.”

I held my hand over hers.

“Finding your mana is one thing,” Lyra said. “Healing is giving it a job.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry about making the light appear. Look at the wound and picture what should be there.”

I studied the thin scrape across her knuckle.

“Just… the skin without the cut?”

“Exactly. Picture it whole.”

I closed my eyes. Finding the pressure inside me was easier now, but I only got the tingling halfway down my arm before it stopped. I waited, then opened my eyes when it went no farther.

Lyra’s scrape looked exactly the same.

“I don’t think I did anything.”

“Try again. You’re doing two things at once now.”

This time the mana reached my palm, and a dim green glow appeared beneath my fingers.

I focused on Lyra’s knuckle, trying to picture the skin without the cut.

The light brightened, then scattered away from my hand in a brief flicker and vanished.

Lyra pulled her hand back. “Too much.”

“I thought more would help.”

“Not if you can’t control it. That’s how you make yourself sick. Keep it steady, and keep picturing what you want to heal.”

“Okay.”

That sounded much easier when she said it.

On the third try, the glow returned and the very edge of the cut drew together. I looked up at Lyra before I could stop myself.

The light disappeared.

“It moved.”

“It did. Keep going.”

I lowered my eyes to her hand again, trying to contain the smile until I’d actually finished.

I took a breath and tried again.

The pressure was becoming familiar now. Not easy, exactly, but recognizable. I guided it down my arm, slower this time, until the green light returned beneath my palm.

I pictured the scrape as it should have been before yesterday’s training.

The cut grew smaller, so slowly at first that I wasn’t sure. Then one end of it closed, leaving a shorter line than before.

My concentration slipped once, and the light dimmed.

“Easy,” Lyra said.

I steadied it again.

The last red line disappeared, and I let the glow fade. I lowered my hand and stared at Lyra’s knuckle.

“I did it.”

“You did.”

A grin spread across my face. Lyra turned her hand so I could see it better, then bent the finger.

“Good. All gone.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Nope.”

I kept looking for a mark. There wasn’t one. I’d needed several attempts, and it had only been a scratch, but I’d healed someone.

Then I waited for the warmth to spread through me the way it had when Lyra healed my arm.

Nothing happened. I still felt the relief from this morning, but there was no new sensation in my chest.

Of course there wasn’t. I’d been healing her.

There was still one thing I needed to know.

I tried to make the question sound like it had only just occurred to me.

“Does healing work on yourself too?”

“Sure.”

I looked up a little too quickly, but Lyra was already pulling her glove back into place.

“It’s harder,” she continued. “Pain makes concentrating messy, and it’s easier to judge somebody else’s injury than your own. But once you know what you’re doing, small things aren’t much trouble.”

“Oh.”

That was the answer I’d wanted.

“Don’t start experimenting on yourself yet.”

My fingers closed around my sleeve.

“Oh. Okay.”

“You managed one scratch after several tries,” she said. “Control first. For now, practice finding your mana and moving it into your hands. You don’t need to cast anything every time.”

“Can I do that later?”

“Sure. Just don’t wear yourself out.”

“What happens if I do?”

“Mana sickness. Headache, nausea, shaking if you really push it. Stop if you start feeling unwell.”

I nodded. That sounded like something I’d rather learn about from her than find out for myself.

Lyra reached for her spear.

I looked down at my hands. I could recognize the feeling now, and sometimes I could move it where I wanted. I’d even managed to close that tiny scrape.

More importantly, healing myself was possible.

I didn’t know whether it would feel the same as Lyra’s magic. Maybe whatever had eased the tightness in my chest was something I hadn’t learned to do. I’d have to wait before I could find out, however badly I wanted to try.

Capable.

The word came back while I flexed my fingers. I wasn’t suddenly capable again. One tiny scratch didn’t undo the last year of my life, and I still wanted Lyra beside me when we went back through the courtyard.

But this morning, I hadn’t known how to find the mana inside me. Now I did, and I could practice without needing her to cast anything for me.

For today, that felt like enough.