[ Magic? Dear God, did he really say that? It seems like a long time ago, but he remembers how strange Hanna’s abilities had seemed to him at first. How he’d seen her on fire and thought she would be hurt, and dumped snow on the flames only to realise that hurt her more. In his world they would have called her a witch, he has absolutely no doubt about that. They’d be wrong, though. ]

I don’t. Your powers, they’re just a part of you. You’re not magic, you’re the woman who’s always warm. And never has to ask for a light.

It confuses me now, when you seem afraid of your powers. I still think they’re amazing, Hanna, but they’re not all that you are. Why did you ask me that?