Chapter 7 Sparks in the Night
Sparks in the Night
ADARA
As the sun set, we found a clearing in the forest. Ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches weaving a canopy that filtered the dying light.
The air should have hummed with pure, vital magic—as it had in all my previous lives—but something was terribly wrong.
I stopped at the clearing's edge, my hand flying to my throat as I finally felt what the guardians had tried to explain in the temple.
The curse threaded through everything like poison in a bloodstream.
Dark veins spread through nearby plants, their leaves withered and pale—a visible sign of the invisible war being waged against both natural and supernatural forces.
As a magical being, I felt a deeper wrongness that made my phoenix nature recoil.
The world I'd awakened to was wounded, changed.
Even here, in this relatively untouched grove, I could sense its marks: a withered vine curling unnaturally around a trunk, leaves just slightly too pale and brittle, patches of earth where nothing grew at all.
I had known the world for countless lifetimes, had burned and been reborn again and again, but never had I felt it so altered.
My hands trembled as I fought to control my response to this wrongness.
How far had the curse spread? How much of the world I'd known was now twisted and tainted?
"Adara?" Desmond's deep voice cut through my rising panic. The bear shifter approached slowly, his grace tempered by concern. "What do you sense?"
Before I could answer, Lucas appeared at my other side, close enough that I could feel his presence. His wolf-gold eyes studied my face intently. "You're paler than before," he said softly. "And I don't think we can blame it on you being newly hatched."
I arched an eyebrow at him, my momentary shock giving way to irritation.
"If you make one more egg joke, wolf-boy, I'll show you exactly how 'newly hatched' I am," I said, summoning a flicker of flame to dance across my fingertips.
The familiar warmth of my power provided a counterpoint to the wrongness surrounding us.
Lucas's lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes tracking the flame dancing across my fingers with appreciative interest rather than fear. "Noted, Phoenix," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though I have to say, your fire is much more impressive than your temper."
The momentary distraction faded as the weight of corruption pressed in again. "How do you stand it?" I whispered, extinguishing my flame. "This... corruption. It's everywhere."
"It's been this way all our lives," Taranis said, moving to the center of the clearing.
His mage staff glowed faintly in the twilight as he knelt and pressed his palm against the earth, the staff's crystal focus pulsing in rhythm with his efforts.
I saw how much effort it took him to work with the resistant soil.
The ground eventually yielded to his magic, flowing like reluctant water to shape a fire pit ringed with seats, but I could see the strain in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched with concentration.
What I'd initially mistaken for mere intensity was actually the cost of working magic in this cursed world.
A sudden breeze ruffled my hair, carrying Aeolus's magic and—now that I was painfully aware of it—whispers of decay from distant lands. The fae’s eyes met mine, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through his carefully maintained mask of mischief.
His fingers brushed mine as he passed, a gesture so brief it might have been accidental if not for the spark of connection that passed between us.
"The curse runs deeper in other places," he said, gathering fallen leaves in a spiral of wind.
"This area is relatively untouched." The implied 'for now' hung heavy in the air between us.
Ryu prowled closer, his dragon-fire magic illuminating the clearing.
He stalked the perimeter with predatory grace, nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
"The corruption offends my senses," he growled, a thin line of smoke curling from his lips.
His golden eyes locked with mine, blazing with intensity.
"It is an abomination against the natural order. "
I caught glimpses of places where the curse had left its mark—subtle, iridescent traces that reminded me of oil on water, beautiful but wrong.
When he passed behind me, his heat felt like an anchor against my growing dread.
"We'll fix it," he growled, the promise rumbling deep in his chest. "That's why you're here. Why we're all here."
The air crackled with possibility and warning, like the calm before a storm. Their eyes lingered on me a heartbeat too long, their bodies orienting toward mine like flowers tracking the sun.
"Perhaps," Taranis said dryly as he observed their posturing, "someone could gather more firewood instead of—" he paused, adjusting his spectacles, "—whatever this display is meant to accomplish."
"I will hunt for you," Ryu declared, golden eyes gleaming with predatory intent. "The finest game these lands have to offer will barely be worthy of your first meal, since some of us seem more interested in playing with the wind than actually helping."
Aeolus's laugh carried a dangerous edge. "Oh? And here I thought you were marking every tree in sight like a common hound."
"Says the fae who leaves glitter wherever he goes," Ryu retorted, smoke curling from his nostrils.
"It's not glitter, it's magical residue," Aeolus sniffed, flicking his silver hair dramatically. "Something a fire-breather wouldn't understand."
"Enough," Desmond rumbled, though I noticed he kept his distance from both of them. He busied himself with organizing supplies, his movements deliberately slow and non-threatening, yet his massive frame seemed to take up more space than necessary—a subtle reminder of his power.
Lucas watched it all with the calculated patience of a predator, occasionally catching my eye as if sharing a private joke.
Yet there was nothing truly relaxed in his posture.
His careful positioning gave him clear lines of sight to each of the others, and his hand never strayed far from the knife at his belt.
Practicality eventually won out over posturing.
Desmond and Taranis worked together to create a sheltered sleeping area for me, weaving branches and leaves into a private, makeshift lean-to.
Desmond's large hands twisted saplings with surprising gentleness while Taranis used precise magical gestures to bind them together, the two working in seamless tandem despite their differences.
I noticed how they positioned it so the others would have to keep their distance, whether for my protection or their peace of mind, I wasn't sure.
Ryu returned with more than just firewood.
He'd managed to hunt down several plump rabbits, presenting them with poorly concealed pride.
Aeolus, not to be outdone, used his fae wiles to gather wild herbs and mushrooms from the surrounding forest. He winked at me as he deposited his bounty, his fingers lingering on mine as he transferred a particularly vibrant flower.
"For your hair," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "A proper feast needs more than meat."
While they prepared the food, Desmond approached me with a handful of herbs I didn't recognize.
"Would you help me gather more?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble. "There are edible plants nearby that would complement our meal."
I nodded, following him to the edge of the clearing where various plants grew in patches of moonlight. Desmond knelt, his massive frame somehow graceful as he gestured for me to join him.
"The earth speaks, if you know how to listen," he said, guiding my hand to a small plant with star-shaped leaves. "Feel it."
As my fingers touched the leaves, I felt a subtle vibration, a quiet pulse of life that seemed to respond to my touch.
"Bear shifters serve as bridges between the physical and spiritual worlds," Desmond explained, his large hand warm over mine. "We connect with the energy that flows through all living things."
The plant beneath my fingers suddenly trembled, its leaves stretching toward my hand with unusual eagerness. Desmond's eyes widened slightly.
"They respond differently to you," he observed. "Your phoenix energy is both familiar and foreign to them. Like recognizing an old friend who has at long last returned."
"Is that good or bad?" I asked, watching as nearby flowers turned their faces toward me like tiny sentinels.
"Neither. Different." His deep voice was soothing as he adjusted my fingers. "Gentler. You're pressing too hard. Nature doesn't need to be commanded—only invited."
I relaxed my touch, and the plant seemed to sigh beneath my fingers, releasing a subtle fragrance.
"The spirits are agitated by the corruption," Desmond continued, "but they recognize your flame as something that cleanses rather than destroys."
For a moment, we remained there in silence, my hands learning the language of the earth under his patient guidance, the whisper of leaves around us creating a momentary peace that pushed back against the wrongness permeating everything else.
When we returned to camp, Lucas was making a wide circle around the perimeter, setting up subtle warnings that would alert us to any nighttime visitors. His efficiency spoke of long experience, though I caught him watching the others as much as the forest around us.
Their rivalry infected even the simplest tasks. Taranis had barely finished conjuring stone seats when Aeolus's wind swept through, adding cushions of dried leaves and grass. "Comfort befitting our guest," he said with a wink that made my pulse skip traitorously.