As he watched the light grow brighter around Breena’s hand, he thought of the
cells in her fingers, the DNA within the cells, the magic genes along the DNA. 
Genes that let her tap into the way of the world in a manner forgotten for a 
very long time, if, indeed, magic had ever existed before. The magic let her 
connect directly with the world. Magic was not a tool. It was the thing that joined flesh to the air, and through the air to
the powder. And to everything.