Sunlight hits the bottle just right, and it's like an explosion of color over his white walls, all reds and pinks and blues. Without thinking about it, Seph lunges forward as the panic crawls up his throat. He wraps both hands around the tiny bottle, ending the splash of color. There's nobody in the house, of course. He's here alone; there's no reason to hide the bottle. But his heart is still pounding hard against his ribs, hands clammy with sweat.
This was stupid. He's stupid. He shouldn't have done it.
Seph licks his lips; they're dry, and so is his tongue. Finally, he forces himself to relax, hands dropping from the bottle. The colors return, and the liquid sits there like a curse.
He remembers the first time he took it, the way it closed up his throat and made things brighter and burned through him like the fire that burned the club. The fire that burned Maia. His fingers find their way to the melted cross he wears around his neck religiously. But he also remembers the seductive scream of power that made him intense.
He breathes out, head bowing so that dark curls fall into his eyes.
He's not that same boy anymore, the one before Trinity, before the Havens. He has control. More than that, he has people. Jack and Ellen and Jason and Fitch and Will, their families, the people. Even Leesha Middleton. He has them, and right now, he's two seconds away from losing them.
This is war. He knows enough about war to know that sacrifices are made, even personal ones. He knows that the Roses will do anything to get in here to get the Dragonheart. He knows that people have done plenty of terrible things to ensure victory, that his own father has advocated things like this.
So why is his hand trembling as he reaches out and continues to convince himself that taking Wizard Flame is the right course of action?
Because it's not right, Seph thinks tiredly. He's too weary to be bitter about it at this point.
It's not right, but it's necessary.
And it's that thought - that one, simple word - that makes his hand stop shaking.
Power is necessary for victory, and he can't lose those who need him.
