"Technically," the fairy started, holding up a hand to Ben, a little signal to keep his calm about it, though her smile probably helped get the message across, "it's nothing the two of you -- and everyone else -- don't already have... but far more than you'd be used to carrying at once. Mortals shed it; the fae of my world retain it. It is...." She paused, trying to decide what word to use for it. "Life. Spirit. ...Or what that's made of. It's energy. This bit of it, I collected from the sun's light and warmth; something I am able to do is to pull power from other sources, and turn it into this, that it may be made use of.

"But, like I said, I cannot hold much at once for very long. I could drink an entire lightning storm, but without a vessel to carry it, all I would be doing is calming the sky."