Page 23 of Roaring Spell

“Sakura!” I push through the wind, rain stinging my face. “Can you hear me?”

No response. Just another surge of power, lightning missing me by inches.

I don’t hesitate.

I wrap myself around her.

Elemental power crashes against me. Wind. Rain. Electricity. It should hurt more than it does—my bear’s natural resistance is the only thing making this bearable, deflecting the worst of the magical assault.

“You’re safe.” Low, steady, cutting through the roar. “I have you. Breathe.”

Her body shakes against mine. The lightning intensifies.

“Sakura. Listen to my voice. You’re having an episode. It will pass. But I need you to breathe.”

A sob tears from her throat. The wind howls.

“Breathe with me.” I inhale slowly, deliberately, my chest expanding against her back. “In. Hold. Out.”

For a long moment, nothing changes. The storm rages. She trembles.

Then—

A shuddering breath. Her lungs expanding in time with mine.

“Good. Again. In. Hold. Out.”

Another breath. The wind begins to ease.

“That’s it. You’re doing it. Keep breathing.”

The rain slows from downpour to drizzle. The lightning fades from strikes to flickering static. The temperature stabilizes.

By the time the last of the storm dissipates, we’re both soaked, both breathing hard, and I’m still wrapped around her.

Slowly, I loosen my grip.

She doesn’t move.

“Sakura?” My voice is rough. “Are you with me?”

“I—” Her voice cracks. “I’m here.”

She pulls away. I let her go, even though every instinct screams to hold on. She surveys the destruction—scattered crystals, scorched walls, waterlogged furniture.

“My studio.” Horror fills her voice. “I destroyed⁠—”

“You had an episode. It passed.”

“I almost killed you.”

“You didn’t.”

“The lightning⁠—”

“Missed.”

“Barely!”