The morning sun warms my bed. Eyes still closed, I listen for the familiar bustle of the bakery downstairs; Father pulling the first loaves out of the oven, Granny chatting with an early customer
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I love your description of magic: "Yesterday I learned how to use magic to heal the broken wing of a bird. That didn’t feel evil. I felt the same surge of power I felt after that soldier stabbed my mother--that didn’t feel evil either. Just...different."
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