I stood in the clearing, the afternoon sun filtering through the tall trees. My hands moved slowly, guiding the invisible force of the air as it swirled around me, brushing the edges of the forest. The sensation of control was new, fragile, but exhilarating. I could feel the magic pulse with every breath I took. The wolves, as usual, stood watch, their eyes flicking from me to the trees.
“Focus, Faith,” I whispered to myself, letting the breeze dance along the tips of my fingers.
Just as I was ready to direct the air toward the trees, feeling the pull of its life-giving energy, a sudden gust ripped from my control. I felt the shift—an unintentional tug—right where my mother’s spirit lingered.
Ginger’s form shimmered into existence as she was drawn into the path of the air, her dark curl
