I was out of my body again when it started. Absorbing quartz essence, and strolling through my dreams. The wastebasket next to my writing-desk suddenly went 'whhfh!' and I saw a flickering yellow light coming up from it. And seconds later, licking flicking flames peeked up over the edge of the basket, rising higher. I had only recovered a fraction of my mana, but I conjured water to spill down into it and put out the fire. I started pulling myself into my body, forcing myself not to rush. I picked a muscle in my arm and moved it, the limb shoved out from under the blanket. Next, a leg flopped over. Bit by bit I'd get myself to the door. The more I moved in, the more control I have.

  For a while I've practiced, off and on, to move my body while only part of me is inside of it. I was able to pull myself onto the floor. The gauzy smokey soul-stuff took a while to put away correctly, and if I don't do it right it won't stay put. But the more of it I got into place, the easier it was to control my body. And, the more anchored I was, as well. I started to crawl, and the portion of me inside dragged the rest of me along, still filtering in.

  At the time, my thought was that this was some prank of Nathan's. Like me, he doesn't go in for practical jokes very often. When he does, they're usually very clever, but the reason he gets away with them is because people don't associate him with pranks. Still, I was headed to his room to get an explanation.

  Someone screamed. And then another, and then a lot. Fear. Some pain. Some hopeless, terrified distress. Voices I recognized from around the house. Voices for "good morning m'lady" or "I just washed that!", and now they screamed. Not a practical joke. Maybe it's something else, maybe my room is the only one with a sudden burst of fire.

  My door thrust open, and Nathan was standing there, framed and backlit by firelight. Too much firelight. He ran to me and slid on his knees, catching me under my armpits. "Are you safe to move?" he asked, seeing how uncoordinated I was. There was a guard in our house colors behind him, wordless, looking back and forth up and down the hallway. No matter which way he faced, I could see fire lighting his face. This was not just my room.

  Constrict the throat, shape the tongue, open the mouth, push the breath. "Yuh."

  He hooked me up onto his shoulders and started to carry me to the hallway, leading to the stairs. Flickering yellow and orange glow came around the corners, seemed to drift in from every angle. A small fire there at the corner, near the planter. I conjured water to splash on it, put it out. It was another wastebasket. All of these ignitions were starting at trash cans or litter piles.

  "Wait," Nathan said, craning to look at me. He recognized what it meant when water appeared out of nowhere: Natalie's casting spells. "Wait. You can put this out?" His eyes were shining, firelight wove and wavered all about, making things move all the more. He was sweating- it was hot in here, and he's not much larger or stronger than me. But he did not think twice to pick me up and carry.

  I already had my mouth shaped. "Yuh."

  He brought me to his room, and I splashed water over his wastebasket and the corner of the rug near it. Down the hall to the maid's dorms, and I started putting out fires there. The house guard was tailing, clutching a spear. I was pretty sure I recognized him, but not his name. I tend to know the maid's names better than Nathan, he knows the guards better than I. It is considered more acceptable to introduce oneself to members of the same sex.

  I was reeling my soul into my body still, more slowly now. More by practice than by intention; I was quite focused on putting out fires, fitting myself back into my flesh was a minor distraction. Finally, there was too much of me anchored to the body for me to use the soul's sight to see the world, and I needed to point my eyes at the things I cast at. I wriggled, and pushed. As usual, my voice was the last thing to come online.

  But he got my intention from my squirming, and set me down. I was almost ready to stand on my own, I tottered and nearly tumbled to the ground. With him bracing me, I staggered and stumbled down the hall, putting out flames wherever I saw them. There were just so damn many of them. We got to the back stairs, the servants' way, and it was all fire roaring up at us. I started throwing water down at it, and it roared right back again. The air was too hot, I could not breathe. The light from the inferno was so bright that it hurt my eyes even when shut. Behind me, back at the main staircase, the flames took control. A wall of it, pushing. The front of the house was a natural breezeway, to pull cool air up and through the house, to stay comfortable in summer. It gave the space better atmosphere and organic flow, and helped make that staircase the showpiece during big public parties. I had to hope that everyone on the second floor had a way out or down- that staircase was an inferno, a deathtrap.

  How the hell had it gotten here already?! The screams had just started, these fires had just been noticed, and already they were entirely out of control! We have guards patrolling at night just to stop things like this!

  "It's just steam!" Nathan shouted. He was right, the water was not even reaching the ground before it turned to heated vapor. Flames near us, screams farther. The staircase was catching fire, the water boiled away faster than I could conjure it. The boiling air blew up into our faces, and it hurt to breathe. The most dangerous part of a house fire is the smoke, but steam is damn near good enough. "We need to leave!" Nathan yelled.

  We did. All of us needed to get out of here, it was the only way. I looked behind us: maids in nightdresses filing the hallway, scared, staring, following. Hands clutched together in fear under their chins. The house guard, barely any better. The maid's dormer was close, the flames coming up the stairs would come for them all, they all needed to be brought to safety. I looked to a window, leaned out. Three stories down, a leg-breaker at minimum for anyone without the essence of air and owls. People would die if we threw them out those windows. Call that a choice of last resort. Could I create a ladder? Too big a spell to cast all at once. And a partial ladder is no good at all. And if I tried, it would be too slow, people would die waiting to climb out. I shook my head. We needed a fast way out. There was a fast way out. But it wasn't going to be easy.

  "Ladies! Form up!" I yelled out, and I curved void. The portal opened, glaring with a light harsher and more threatening than the fire. "Follow me!" I called out, and jumped in. I hovered there as more maids climbed in, all of us packed together. The space here was tight, no larger than it needed to be. I felt the burden growing, stretching in my soul. "Stop!" I called out. Five maids in with me, almost too much. "Wait there, I'll be right back!" The maid next in line did not look like she wanted to wait, but she held in place. Her loyalty to the family, her trust in myself. She stayed herself and waited for us.

  I shut the portal fast, and opened another onto the lawn. I pushed, and the young women rolled out, blinded and screaming. I didn't have time to let them out gently, I just pushed them like baggage until they tumbled through back to the world of gravity and movement. I shut the door and went back. While maids and servants filed in, I threw around as much water as I dared, anything to cool this off and slow the blaze. The hallway was funneling fire straight at us, all I could do was slow it. Another body entered the portal. I felt the strain, and had to pull out one maid to wait in the hallway before I could enter, and open the other side, moving everyone outside, away from the heat. The portals are no good without me inside them to open the other side. The women were slower to leave than to enter, and I was getting impatient. I had finally pulled my soul all the way into my body, but my mana was still very low, I could not muster many other spells, I was lucky I could hold the two that I did have.

  When I got back, it was already almost too late. The woman I had pulled out was terrified, screaming, the fires were so close. I opened the door. Three more maids, the last from this floor, plus the guard, and Nathan finally followed after. It was almost too much. In this space, so close and so bright, everything was disorienting. Sharing it with people already in a panic is hard. And with them blinded, and unable to sense the doorway portal, it was hard to get them out in as orderly and efficient as they entered. We were losing time. I didn't have time. I didn't have breath. I did not want to take a break- but what I needed and wanted were nothing compared to the fact that I had no breath at all. I fell down. I lay, gasping, I could not move, could not cast, could not think. Spots danced in front of my eyes. If I had more mana- if I had more spells! I could craft earth to throw sand on things, as well as water. Curve the water to surround myself in a safe bubble.

  My lungs felt gummy and my throat felt worse, but I had enough air to lift my head.

  In the last few years, the family has been struck by repeated tragedy.

  I looked back at the house, it was aflame. I threw as much water as I could, soaking the roof, and I went back for my parents.

  Unlike most of the dukes, Meadowtam had never been involved in siege warfare. Our home was not a converted fortress. Harigold Manor was no castle, there was no skeleton of mortared stone here. All wood. Old wood. Dry.

  The fire had happened too fast, unbelievably fast. It seemed to start in every room at once, and anywhere it was unchecked the flames would merge into a larger, hungrier beast that blackened what it touched and killed whatever it breathed on. It was burning from the outside inward, everything at once. An impossible fire. A heated animal that paced every room of the house, marking its territory in death and smoke and embers.

  The portal opened onto a wall of flames, and I blasted water all about, pushing them back. My vision was dazzled and full of stars, I could not blink the void out of my eyes. The air out there was pure steam, but the steam did choke out the blaze. Heat pulsed all around, threatening to reignite the rapidly-drying timbers, but I kept soaking everything. I stepped out, and burned my feet. Bare feet. I was in my night gown. Water water everywhere, and not a drop that isn't steam.

  I'm going to invent battery-operated smoke detectors, and chemical extinguishers, pressurized fire hoses, volunteer fire departments. I'll invent Dalmatians if i have to. I was praying in my delusional, surreal way. Exhausted, sleep-deprived, oxygen-deprived. I was mentally bargaining with whatever gods might be paying attention to our story. I'll wage war against fire itself if you get everyone out of this alive!

  I canceled the water, dispelled it, and the steam vanished so fast that it dropped the air pressure inside the room, forcing the fire down. Oh, of course! My hands danced through glyphs, hours of practice so I could get them perfect no matter what state I'm in. I scraped bottom, the last of my mana. I curved air, and lifted it up away from the walls and floor, depriving the fire of breath, repressing the hungry heat even more. I had been panicking, acting stupid. It is much easier to put out a fire by removing oxygen directly than just splashing water. No reason not to do both. I evacuated the smoke, and found my parents- they were in the fireplace.

  "Natalie?!" my father was incredulous. He stared through the heat-hazed air in front of the fireplace. Wait, I could do more than move air. I forced it to cool, brought down the temperature of the room. That should stop things from reigniting.

  Instantly the room shuddered. I've done something to the house's balance, lowered pressure in one spot while it built somewhere else. Hundreds of gallons of cold water falling onto a weakened floor. Tactical blunder. I fucked up. But I've got time. I can fix this. Just a rescue. Focus up.

  Of course that giant, ostentatious fireplace is the safest part of the room. It's stone, and ventilated, and it's specifically built to control flames. The scrivener's wards on it could only do so much, but they had probably kept my parents alive. And Wezner, and Hertyce, and Wrybin, and two ladies-in-waiting. I did not know their names. A dead guard was on the ground in front of them, slowly charring, only partially protected by the wards. I ripped at the air, I conjured water, I burned my feet, and I headed straight for them. It was a hot corner of hell to cross that space, but I was too scared to deal with pain. I could lose my family.

  In the last few years, the family has been struck by repeated tragedy, and their lands have suffered several misfortunes. Dark days in Meadowtam, and Harigold House.

  Lungs burning. I've been inhaling smoke, not even aware of it. I would need a healer after this. Most preventable house fire fatalities are from people running back into the fire after they're safe. I stepped over the dead guard. "I can get you out," I said. My voice was char, but somehow they were able to understand my words. They moved, somewhat, shifting balance, towards me instead of just away from the room.

  The whole house groaned. And then it cracked. I looked up- the ceiling was crawling with fire, it slid over the boards and plaster like a nest of undulating snakes. The ceiling bulged down, and the floor shook. Something structural had burned through. I opened the portal. Wezner and Hertyce went first, terrified. Wrybin tried to push my parents in, but my father was gallant. Chivalrous. My mother, and the ladies in waiting went into the portal. The strain hit me like I'd swallowed a pound of sand. My mind was heavy. It was hard to remember what I was doing. I needed too much of the void, and the void would have me.

  It was hard to stay here. My emotions slid, became something not my own. I wanted to leave, but there was conflict. Between what I should do and what I wanted to do. Should is a social construct. The void did not care for should. The void only knew about need. Taking.

  Father jammed Sir Wrybin in after the others. I groaned, clutched my stomach. I felt sick, I felt weak. And I was being pulled inside myself, and away. I held up my hand- small flakes of my skin were lifting off of it and floating away, weightless. The layer beneath was pink and raw, even in the stark white light from the doorway. The void was in my mind. It did not understand why we allowed ourself to be hurt and overtaxed. Just go. It's easy.

  My father jammed me through the doorway, yelled at me. I stared back through the hole in reality, white light on my side, red light on his. He was yelling. Could I not hear him? Or could I just not make the void care enough to listen? Stones were slipping out of the fireplace, the house was falling. The timbers of the floor were bowing and it took the support out from under the fireplace and chimney. In seconds, all of this would be buried in cinders. I reached for him. My fingernails were disappearing. My skin did not look right. He grabbed my hand, and I screamed in pain as my weakened flesh took the strain. Tissues hollowed from inside had no strength, my body was bursting apart under the pressure. It was going to get so much worse when he joined us.

  He came inside. I shut the door.

  I opened the door, and we lived.