Rowan's breath clouded in the cold air. To his surprise, the string of energy that had revealed itself in response to his desire for more led him to the far side of his garden, toward the alcove that Wren had created as a first, sweet step toward leaving his own mark on their home in the form of something other than illusion.
The closer he got, the faster his heart raced, as if it already knew what he would find there even if he didn't. Now the string held onto him just as much as he held onto it, and the boundary between him and the magic blurred together. With each step, the place inside him where his song used to be felt warmer somehow, less empty.
With a jolt Rowan realized exactly what the string wanted to show him. He could feel it now, that part of himself that he'd given up.
