SADIE
The rose withers to dust between my palms, another casualty of powers that prefer destruction to restoration. I stare at the gray ash that was once living tissue, feeling the familiar frustration rise like bile. Three weeks of intensive training and I still kill more than I heal, still burn where I should mend.
"Again." My mother's voice carries infinite patience I don't deserve. "Feel the life force before you try to change it."
"I am feeling it." The words come out sharper than intended. "I feel it dying under my touch."
Another rose appears in her hands, pink petals perfect in morning light. She makes it look effortless—golden power flowing like honey, like love, like everything mine isn't. The white wolf gift manifesting as nature intended, not the twisted thing I carry.
"Yo
