They were lively and always crawled right beneath Asra's skin, made his palms sweaty, his cheeks red and every time he opened his mouth to speak, he was careful not to let any of them slip out.
Soft spoken letters, sweet whispers like sparkles mingling with magic; warmth that brought and took away fear like the tide, and made him neither brave nor a coward.
It was enough. Sufficient.
But to the magician it wasn't enough if it was all it was going to be.