I paused. How was I meant to heal the earth? I had no idea how to heal a grazed knee, let alone a flowerpot of soil in the middle of a lighthouse. I looked to Agnes for help.

Agnes smiled and took my hand. Her touch was warm and comforting. "Just like when you comfort a friend," she said.

She guided my hand to hover over the dry soil. "Now, focus on your love for this land. Think of the earth as a living being that needs your love. I've watched to talk to plants with love. That's all you need to do now." Her voice was gentle but firm.

I closed my eyes, returning my thoughts to how I felt when I looked after my grandmother's roses. I could smell them. I felt something. It was like energy flowing from my heart down to my fingers. It hadn't seen it like the spider's web of links I saw when I emersed my hands in the earth. It was gentle and kind, rather than the overwhelming pulsating power.

Agnes let go of my hand. "Your turn," she said.

I thought about the energy. I loved the garden. "I'm here," I whispered to the soil, feeling like a fraud.

Fiona then took my hand. Her hand was cool. "Feel the darkness inside you," Fiona said. "The part of you that knows the night and all its secrets. It's not just about light and life. It's about balance and accepting all of you."

Her words resonated with me, but I didn't like the idea. They were asking me to show all of me, not just the socially acceptable mask we all wear. I considered Fiona's words and tried to be curious about the world around me rather than on what I felt were my own shortcomings and failures. The idea there was something dark inside of me repulsed me.

The focus now wasn't on me. The earth wasn't just about sunshine sometimes it rained. There was darkness under the trees where the sun couldn't reach. Yet in the earth's darkness, there was life.

I sensed Agnes and Fiona step back from me. It was my turn to do something, I guess.

I took a deep breath, trying to remember what they said. I thought about Agnes's healing touch and Fiona's dark and light. I reached out to the earth.

I placed my hands on the earth, trying to merge the different strands of what Agnes and Fiona had shown me.

For a moment I was grateful we were in a tower, disconnected from the earth, because was I could feel wasn't overwhelming as it had always been reaching out to the earth. This time I could feel the power inside me, a mix of life and shadow, like a wild animal, untamed but contained because of the distance from the ground. I pushed it towards the small patch of soil, wanting it to heal, to grow, to restore.

But instead of the earth gently coming to life, the earth exploded. A small whirlwind of soil shot out, spinning out of control. It raced across the room, hitting Fiona in the face with a fine spray of dirt and tiny pebbles.

There was a moment of shocked silence in the room. Then Agnes started to shake. I tried to hold back a giggle, but it was no good. I started to laugh. Fiona stood there, looking utterly bewildered, brushing the earth from her cheeks.

Agnes couldn't contain herself any longer and burst into hearty laughter. "Oh my," she said, wiping her eyes. "That's not quite what we were going for."

Fiona's icy mask cracked just a little as she smirked. She brushed off her clothes with as much dignity as she could muster as we laughed.

"Right then," Fiona said once we had all calmed down. "I suppose we'd better try that again before I end up looking like a potted plant."

I nodded, still giggling as I collected what soil I could back into a pile. "Yes, let's do it again." I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and the wild energy inside me.

Fiona stepped forward once more. "Remember," she said softly but firmly. "It's all about balance. You mustn't let your power run away with you, it is part of you."

I closed my eyes and thought of the earth as part of me, as if every grain was a cell in my body that I needed to look after. This time, I focused on being gentle and patient with my power.

I put my hands back on the soil, wondering what I was going to do differently this time.

"Think of an image that embodies balance for you," Fiona said. Her voice was a soothing contrast to the chaos I had just unleashed.

I thought of an image immediately: the old scales from Gran's kitchen, brass and weathered, hanging by the window. I used to love watching them tip and sway until they settled at a perfect equilibrium, no side heavier than the other.

"Keep that image in your mind," Fiona said.

I visualized the scales, feeling them in my hands. The metal was cool against my skin. The two sides were empty, waiting for something to tip them one way or the other.

"Now, healing this soil," Fiona continued, "is about bringing your image into balance. If one side is heavier, what do you need to do?"

I looked at the scales in my mind's eye. To balance them, I needed to add or remove weight. It was a delicate process. Too much on one side and they would tip over, too little and they wouldn't move at all.

I thought about what this meant for the soil in front of me. My power felt like a weight on one side of the scales, which was too heavy, too forceful. I needed something to counterbalance it, to steady it.

I breathed deeply, considering what this meant. I thought about both warmth and shadow. I needed to balance the scales. A little bit of compassion here, a touch of acceptance there. I felt my energy settle.

The soil under my fingers waited as I recalibrated the balance in my mind. It wasn't about me imposing my will on it. It was about me giving it what it needed to heal itself.

I felt more at peace now, but I wasn't sure how to give it what it needed. I held out my hands again and smirked at the idea of covering Fiona in the soil again if this went wrong.

"Concentrate," I heard Agnes admonish me with amusement in her voice.

I paused, my hands over the dry earth. I had to get it right. I needed to balance Agnes's warmth in one hand and Fiona's shadow in the other. I took a deep breath, trying to let the balance flow through me and into the ground.

The soil, which had been dead and hard, started to move. The tiny grains seemed to dance under my fingers, as if they were moving in response to the call to life. I felt a surge of hope and fear. This was it. I was about to find out if it worked.

I kept my focus on the balance within me. I felt the warmth in my hands. It wasn't the dramatic, explosive whirlwind of dirt this time, but something much more profound. The energy that had felt wild and untamed was now moving with purpose through the earth like golden threads in a tapestry.

I opened my eyes to see the miracle in front of me. Instead of the barrenness, there were green shoots pushing through the small patch of soil. The earth seemed to sigh in relief, as if it had been waiting for this moment. The roots were reaching down into the soil but it hurt they couldn't dive deeply as they were in a pot. I wanted to rescue them, but didn't know how.

I watched as life reclaimed the dead soil. The flowers opened like little flags of victory in the face of what had been defeat. The balance within me had been reflected outwards, changing the once desolate patch into a place of potential.

Agnes stepped forward, her eyes shining with pride and something else. Was it relief? "You've done it, Evie," she said. "You've found your balance."

Fiona nodded beside her. "It's about recognising that you are part of it all, the light, the dark, and everything in between."

Their words washed over me as I looked at the earth, now full of life. It was a physical representation of inner peace. I had learned a lesson in not just power, but patience and acceptance.

As I pulled my hands back, the greenery seemed to nod in thanks—a silent acknowledgement between kindred spirits. I felt a peaceful connection to this land and its rhythms for the first time since arriving in Llyncroft.

The door burst open, and Marcus strode in, his face a mixture of anger and concern. "There's no way I will allow my fiancée to be locked up like this," he boomed, looking from Agnes to Fiona and then to me. I felt myself shrink under his gaze.