70

Holding your breath, you finally let your fingers touch the keyboard.

You're not exactly sure where it comes from—but almost as soon as you feel the keys under your fingertips, you know what you should write. Something about focusing on the qualities you think best define you as opposed to raw magical power alone allows you to think of something that comes from you, as opposed to something you think your grandma (or the computer) wants to hear.

After a few moments, you start to type:

Huknock . Ecology + Witchcraft = Success

When your grandma hears the clicking stop, she looks around—and after casting a quick glance at what you've written, she gives you an approving smile.

"That's excellent, Huknock—you didn't necessarily have to construct it in terms of an equation, but it certainly helps to reduce an abstract thought to its bare essentials. Can I ask—what exactly do you mean by 'Ecology'?"

"Oh—it's just a word I thought described something about me," you tell her, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious. "That way it can be more personal."

"That makes sense," your grandma replies with a nod. "As long as you know what you intended—as long as you're confident in that statement—then I think we should have a very good chance."

Her mouth twitches, and in that moment, you catch one last glimpse of her smile. As you watch, however, her expression seems to stiffen; even though her eyes are still on you, they seem to be seeing something very far away.

"This is all as new to me as it is to you, Huknock," she murmurs very quietly. "If it's going to work—what might happen if it doesn't—I really can't say. So as long as you understand that…are you ready?"