It sputters and hisses, turning into steam the color of ash. My scream goes unheard as the death spell sears my hand, fighting against the life. The moment I release the orchid life, the water turns black and hot. It’s cold and wet, still submersed in the bubble. The magic begs for me to keep it for myself, but I quickly push back the thought and run to Kat. I rush for the next group around the TV, then the batch in the living room, until I have enough orchid life in me that it assuages the pain in my chest. Their power radiates through my hand, pure and clear and hopeful. I use my magic to suck out their life, and they shrivel into black husks. After lowering her to the floor, I hold my hand to the orchids on the table. Kat might weigh nothing, but when she goes limp in my arms the weight brings me to my knees.

She’ll freak when she finds them all dead. I once heard her singing to them as she sprayed special water over their leaves. They’re all over the house, and she treats them like babies. It has to be something pure, something with life to purge the death. I rush to her side in time to keep her standing and scan the kitchen for any reagents I can use to stop this.

Her pale skin begins to turn blue, which makes the pain in my chest burst into something part agony, part will to survive. That’s the least I can do to calm her, and I can’t manage it with my stupid voice gone. How simple it is-almost comical in appearance, and yet terrifying in practice. I’ve heard of the spell-it’s an easy combination of fish scales, raven hearts, and dew gathered from tombstones-but I’ve never seen it in action. No matter how much water Kat wipes away, the bubble stays in place.

Fish Out of Water by Natalie Whipple