The longer he held the flame, the more it stopped feeling like magic and more like… maintenance.
It pulsed gently in his palm now, heat blooming outward, steady and silent. Not demanding. Not wild. Just a presence, like someone breathing beside him who didn't need to speak to be felt.
His fingers had stopped trembling entirely.
His shoulders, though, ached like someone had tied rocks to the inside of his coat. Probably just stiffness from the climb.
Or maybe this was just what it felt like to be eleven and not allowed to collapse.
He glanced sideways. Meren was slumped halfway against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, muttering half-words into his scarf. Nothing useful. Just the kind of things people say to themselves when they're trying to feel like they're part of the conversation.
Ren's eyes were closed now. Not asleep, but close. She breathed slow, like someone who had won an argument no one else knew had been happening.
Ardan still hadn't sat down.
