"Mm." Nelson took the wand and solemnly cradled it in his palm. Inch by inch, he stroked the scarred wand that had passed through who knew how many owners, then waved it lightly, drawing blooming flowers in the air. The conflict and sorrow between the boy's brows vanished, replaced by relief and certainty.
"Nel!" Tom stared at Nelson with burning eyes. He picked up his own blackthorn wand and touched it to the tip of Nelson's. Brilliant sparks flashed between the crossed wands. "You're finally willing to face yourself!"
"What are you talking about?" Nelson lowered his head and watched the lively sparks at the wand tip spread along his whole arm. It seemed to be cheering too.
"You're a genius. You shouldn't be bound by mortals." Tom's scarlet eyes were full of fervent emotion. "And you definitely shouldn't be hurt by scum."
"I am a mortal."
"No, you're not. You just don't know it yourself."
"That isn't important." Nelson drew back his wand. Something seemed to have changed within its core. He gently poked it toward a sheet of manuscript paper scattered on the floor. As the wand approached, the paper twisted and transformed like flowing water, its body stretching, limbs growing, feathers filling out. When he bent down, the instant the wand truly touched the paper's surface, a fighting-spirited falcon spread its wings. It kicked hard off the ground with its talons and leapt toward the half-open window, then stretched out its body, shook off the old, withered feathers clinging to it, looked back deeply at Nelson, and burst out of the room toward the sky, letting out a clear cry that pierced the heavens.
"What's important is, I agree with you. I shouldn't be hurt by scum."
Nelson and Tom went downstairs. Bella was leaning against