I keep my eyes closed for a moment, because I’m genuinely terrified of what will happen when I open them. I don’t feel anything. None of that bone-vibrating, electric energy I felt last time.
I clench my eyelids even tighter, desperately trying to create something… anything.
I open one eye and take a peek at the rock in my hands.
Yeah, it’s still a rock. And it’s just sitting there.
I look up to my father’s face, and there is nothing but disdain written across that wrinkled forehead. All of the wind leaves my lungs in a defeated huff when I see his face.
What is wrong with me?
And what is wrong with him? He’s giving me a freaking ROCK to make magic with. What am I supposed to do with that? Of course I’m going to fail. Why won’t he just let me try one of the wands?
My father fold
