"Close your eyes," he tells her, "And listen to my voice."

Not a difficult thing to do, really. Zed obediently closes her eyes, hands out, while John stands nearby behind her.

"You're trying to get a spark started right there in the palm of your hand. It's not going to burn you; don't be frightened. Think of a flame, just a small flame in your mind. Heat, light, warmth, the glow of a candle."

She visualizes a candle in her mind, the wick glowing bright and steady.

"Now. Repeat after me. Fuego inceneratus."

"Fuego inceneratus," Zed repeats.

Nothing happens. Zed opens her eyes, mildly disappointed.

Even though he's standing behind her, John can see by the slump of her shoulders that her attitude has changed. "No, love, don't lose your concentration. It's going to take practice. Practice makes better." He steps closer to her and touches her forearms, just resting his palms there. "Eyes closed."

His lips are near her ear, voice low and rumbly, and Zed hopes that he cannot feel the goose flesh that has spread down her arms.

"Try again," he tells her. "Fuego inceneratus."

She can't concentrate now. The flame inside her mind's eye has flared into a bonfire, sparking into a void. Zed shakes her head.

"Shh. Focus. You're thinking of a flame. Remember? A nice little flame, something to light your way in the dark."

She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to think. A little flame. Her candle. The bonfire lessens in size, melts down to one singular flame atop a red candle.

"Fuego inceneratus," she whispers.

"Like you mean it," John instructs.

"Fuego inceneratus," she repeats forcefully.

And like, that, a small ball of flame the size of a marble blooms in her open palm.

"See, now? Practice makes better."

Zed holds the flame in her palm, appreciating its warmth. "And how do I turn it off?"

"It's magic, love, not a light switch." He hand slides down her arm, the back of her hand in his palm. "Exstinguere." He presses her fingers together beneath his, and the flame disappears.

Slowly – reluctantly? – he steps away from her. Zed feels colder once he's moved, and it's not because her flame has gone out. Far from it. She turns to face him.

"Magic, when used properly, can be a beautiful thing," he tells her.

Zed nods.