"You could make the lights too?" Kelty asked.

Yes, sweet girl, her Nan's voice said. And at first, your grandfather loved my magic. He called it a miracle, God's own gift.

Kelty puzzled over this as her tears subsided and a spark of resentment flared in her belly.

"How can he be so sharp with me? It's not my fault I have magic. Why can't he call it a miracle and just be nice?"

Nan's voice was silent for a long time.

Grandaughter, she said at last. Make the lights.

"Nan, I can't..."

Make the lights... and I'll tell you the story.