“There, that should do it,” Sypha sets her brush aside with a satisfied nod. She blows across the wet ink marking the inside of Esme’s forearm, grasping the girl’s wrist when she gives a ticklish squirm. “Hold still while it sets, or this won’t work!”

It’s taken some time to determine the exact parameters of her new Singularity-granted ability. Luckily, the theater troupe has a number of stage crew and understudies eager to help out with effects, prop storage, and cleanup. Her glyphs may only imbue fire and ice magic for a short while, but even those two go a long way.

They’re also dangerous in untrained hands, so Sypha insists that the helpers (mostly young, overeager, minion types) study the basics of control with her before she turns them loose on a production or trash immolation duties. Esme’s proven a dab hand with fire already. Today, Sypha’s brought her out to the official-unofficial training grounds used by some of the other Summoned to test ice.

“All right. Up you get! Same grounded stance as last time, yes? Anticipate the kickback, but don’t lock your arms, you’ll find ice is a lot more, mmmmm, geometrically rigid than fire.”