Chapter 5 #2
Barnaby practically exploded. “Okay, nope, we are not letting that slide like it’s nothing.
Do it again. No, wait!” He darted to his bag which he left at the side, grabbed a recorder, and started fumbling with the buttons.
“This is groundbreaking. Do you realize how many myths describe warriors of light shaping weapons from thin air? This is way too cool to miss.”
Sam crossed her arms, though her eyes never left Lucy’s hands. “Show us again.”
Lucy closed her eyes, thought of the daggers, and felt a vibration ignite in her chest. A second later, the blades reappeared, humming with life.
Sam reached out cautiously, her fingertips brushed gently over one. She jerked her hand back instantly, shaking it out. “That’s definitely not steel,” she muttered. “That’s not like anything I’ve ever handled.”
Barnaby’s grin widened like a child at Christmas. “So, you can only make daggers? Or can you… you know…” His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Go Bigger?”
Lucy frowned. She had not even considered it. Slowly, she focused again. She pictured something else, something stronger.
The energy surged. Her palms burned. Light flared.
And this time, a sword materialized.
Long, sleek, gleaming with the same strange silver light. She tried to drop it, but the hilt clung to her palm, fused as it had grown from her own flesh.
Lucy’s breath caught. “It’s really… stuck to me.”
Barnaby stared at the weapon. “It is the ability to shape weapons from your very essence. A gift of creation.” Lucy’s chest swelled with pride. If she could forge these weapons, what else was locked inside her waiting to be released and for the first time, the thought did not scare her.
It thrilled her.
Chapter 5
Training had become a rhythm, like the steady beating of a drum.
Sam tested her reflexes with ruthless precision, Byron drilled her on control and endurance, Corey sparred with her until both were bruised and breathless, and even Damien pushed her patience with his relentless logic during strategy exercises.
Barnaby, of course, hovered with notebooks and recording devices, desperate to document every flicker of light in her eyes.
But when training was done, when sweat had dried and the others collapsed into chairs or drifted to their own corners of the house, it was Mary who always found Lucy.
They walked the estate grounds together, slow steps crunching over gravel paths or sinking into the soft grass of the gardens. Mary never hurried, and somehow, her unshakable calm bled into Lucy, grounding her in a way nothing else did.
“You hold yourself too tightly,” Mary murmured as they strolled beneath the branches of an old oak. “Power does not like cages. It slips out in ugly ways when you try to bottle it up.”
Lucy glanced at her, curiously. “And you would know that how?”
Mary smiled. “Because I have seen it, repeatedly. In others and in myself.”
That answer only made Lucy want to ask more, but when she pressed, Mary would always deflect and today was no different.
“Tell me about your life before all this,” Lucy asked quietly as they reached a bench that overlooked the orchard. “Who you were, where you came from. I have been with you for so long, but I’ve never… I have never really asked.”
Mary lowered herself gracefully onto the bench, folding her arms in her lap. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes, something old, heavy, and dangerous.
“One day,” she said, her voice even but final. “One day I will be happy to tell you. But not now.”
Lucy sank beside her, a little disappointed but not surprised. With Mary, timing was everything, why should this be any different.
They sat in silence, listening to the rustle of leaves. It should have been peaceful. It was.
Lucy’s chest tightened. Her spine went rigid, as though invisible strings were tugging her upright.
Mary noticed instantly. “What is it?”
Lucy’s gaze snapped toward the house, eyes narrowing. She rose to her feet without answering and in a blink, she shimmered. Her body flickered across the grounds like light refracted through glass until she stood at the front steps, staring out toward the long drive.
Byron was the first to react, bursting from the doorway with urgency written all over his face. “Lucy!” He caught her by the arm, scanning her pale expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is coming,” she whispered.
“Who?”
She shook her head, her voice growing more certain even as her stomach twisted. “Someone. No, more than one. I can feel them.”
Byron didn’t waste time. He turned sharply. “Corey! Damien!”
Within moments they came jogging over, blades already strapped at their sides. Corey frowned. “What’s going on?”
Lucy’s gaze remained locked on the empty drive, “Someone is coming.” she repeats.
Corey’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “I can feel it. They’re getting closer.”
A minute turned to an hour.
The whole team had now gathered, scattered across the entrance hall and the front steps, every one of them holding their breath. “Lucy,” Damien said finally, his voice sceptical, “are you certain this isn’t just...”
But before he could finish, Lucy said.
“They’re here.”
And then they saw them.
Two figures, faint at first in the wavering heat of the late afternoon, then clearer with every step down the long drive. A woman and a child.
The woman walked with quiet purpose, her hand resting gently on the shoulder of the small figure at her side. The child, no older than five, kept pace easily, their eyes fixed on the house as if they’d known exactly where to find it all along.
Slowly, steadily, they made their way to the front of the house.
The crunch of footsteps grew louder on the gravel until the woman and child stood at the very base of the steps. The child shrank behind her mother, small fingers gripping the fabric of her dress, eyes darting nervously between the strangers waiting above.
Lucy’s breath caught, the word in her skull beating harder, louder: Connect. Connect. Connect. But she forced herself to move slowly, carefully. With each step toward the door, she willed calm into her limbs, into the voice.
The woman’s eyes lifted, “Hello,” Lucy said softly, she kept her hand gentle as she reached forward. Her palm rested briefly on the child’s head. The moment skin touched skin, Lucy’s eyes glowed violet, the light spilling like liquid through the dim air.
The woman gasped. Her left eye flickered, it glowed in response and she bowed deeply.
“My queen,” she whispered. “I was twelve when I last saw you. I was so lost. And when I felt your energy, I had to come straight away.” She straightened, holding her daughter close. “This is my child, Erin. And my name is Mandy.”
Lucy’s gaze slid toward the little girl. Erin peeked out from behind her mother, her left eye glowing the same violet as Lucy’s, but her right was a startling green.
“Say hello, Erin, this is our queen” Mandy urged gently.
“Hello,” the child whispered before darting back behind the safety of her mother’s skirt.
Lucy’s heart softened. “Please, call me Lucy, come inside. Let us talk.”
Behind her, Corey gave a subtle nod. The Doves, who had been poised for anything, lowered their weapons and melted back into the shadows.
Byron stepped forward to guide the newcomers down the hall, into the dining room, while the others had gathered in the kitchen.
Mary swept in with a tray that was already prepared with sandwiches, a pitcher of water with lemon slices. She set them before Mandy and Erin, her voice smooth and warm. “Eat. We will join you shortly.”
When she returned to the others, the debate was already underway.
“We keep the welcome committee small,” Corey said firmly.
Lucy nodded. “Yes. Byron should be there. And Mary, because of her presence. She calms people.”
Corey frowned. “What do you mean? What about me?”
“And me!” Barnaby blurted, indignation flushing his cheeks. “You can’t cut me out, Lucy. I need to document everything. If I’m not in the room, I can’t learn. And if I can’t learn, then how am I supposed to help you?”
Sam leaned back in her chair, knife spinning lazily between her fingers. “If Barnaby’s in, then I might as well be too.”
Nick raised a hand, grinning. “Same here. No point in pretending otherwise, we’re all going in.”
Byron smirked, the expression carrying just a touch of exasperation. “So much for keeping it small.”
Lucy exhaled slowly, her nerves rattling even as she tried to steady herself. “Fine. But we stay calm. We let them speak. No one pushes them too hard.”
“Agreed,” Corey said, though his voice still carried a note of conflict.
They all moved into the warm hush of the dining room together, Lucy entered slowly, and the moment Mandy saw her she rose so quickly she almost knocked her chair back. The woman bowed, not in ceremony but in a raw, humbled reverence that made the room inhale as one.
“Please, don’t,” Lucy said gently, putting both palms up in a small, easy motion that reached past the bow and softened the air. “It’s okay.”
Mandy straightened and smiled with a relief so big it looked like it could crack her face into pieces of joy. “Tell us about yourself,” Lucy invited, seating herself close enough that Erin could reach out and touch her sleeve.