Just as my magic teetered on the brink of out of control, a faint, unnatural light beginning to gleam in my eyes, a figure swiftly inserted himself between Luke and me. It was Jim. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. His touch felt surprisingly grounding. "Sparks, calm down! Look at me. Take a deep breath!" His voice held a compelling authority, his green eyes locked on mine, projecting a steadying force. Simultaneously, he turned his head and snapped at Luke, who was still trying to approach. "Jones! Can"t you see she"s not in any state for this? Stop provoking her!" Jim"s shout made Luke halt. He looked at me—huddled, emotionally volatile under Jim"s steadying hand—then at the strangely shifting sky. His face was a mask of worry, frustration, and a profound sense of being shut out. He
