Letter 21

Poppy,

I had no sleep at all last night. But however much I'd prefer to pretend that it doesn't exist, I know that I need to try and control all of my power, and that includes fire. Not just to fight off the wraiths, to find the answers, but for me.

So I spent all evening training in the stone corridor. At first I couldn't make anything happen. Thoughts of wraiths, and Marcus, and the First War clouded me. I even tried to rile myself up, make myself angry at the injustice of it all, to recreate what happened in the Greenhouse. But it didn’t work.

I slumped down, pressing my back against the cooling stone wall. Magnar rustled on the windowsill above. Beyond him, night had fallen over Thurlfen Forest, and stars peaked from silver clouds. As my breathing slowed, I focused on my power, reaching beneath it to the flame that has always simmered within me.

Heat coursed through me. Flames sprang into life at my fingertips.

At first I was proud, but as they grew larger and the heat intensified, images of the Greenhouse burning, our friends screaming, danced before my eyes.

The flames roared, ripping through the corridor.

The ghostly scent of singed plants and burnt leaves made me cough.

But Magnar screeched. I snapped back to the present. I wasn’t going to be afraid of my power anymore. I wouldn't be scared of myself.

In an instant, the heat within me quelled. The flames vanished. If it wasn't for the scorch marks, it may never have happened.

I sat in the corridor for a while, Magnar nuzzling my palm, then we returned to my room.

I'm writing to you now from beside the fireplace. This time, I concentrated on forming embers on the wood, not on me, and it was much easier to control. I didn’t panic. Magnar is thrilled with the heat. But I’m still shaken.

Reliving those nightmares was awful. But if I’m ever going to feel like myself, truly myself, I have to get past this. I have to keep practising.

Forever your friend

Willow