Chapter Five : A Spark Too Bright
795 Words
Chapter Five: A Spark Too Bright
Shayne tried to apologize.
He tried hard.
He caught Kenna after drills, jogging to match her furious pace down the long stone corridor.
“Hey, Kenna, listen—I’m sorry about the whole...” He waved his hands vaguely. “You know. Fireball situation. That was...bad.”
Kenna didn’t even look at him.
She walked faster.
Shayne kept up, dogged.
At lunch, he tried again. He sat across from her at the long, weathered dining table, picking at a plate of roasted vegetables he didn’t even like, and said with his most serious voice, “No jokes. Straight-up apology. I was a reckless idiot.”
Kenna responded by getting up and moving to another table.
He found her again in the courtyard later that afternoon, pretending to study a training scroll.
He plopped down cross-legged in the grass in front of her.
“Look, I know I’m basically a walking natural disaster,” Shayne said. “But you don’t have to act like I don’t exist. You can throw a brick at me. It'll be fine. I’m very durable.”
Kenna didn’t even flinch. She turned the page of her scroll without looking at him.
He grinned anyway.
Persistence was another of his questionable talents.
It wasn’t until three days later that something cracked.
He wasn’t even trying that day.
He was just wandering, restless, too much energy bottled up inside him. The Moonstone compound was huge—twisting halls, secret gardens, old wells where the magic had sunk so deep into the stones it still glowed.
He followed the pulse of warm air down a winding path he didn’t recognize until he ended up at the Forge Well.
The Forge Well was ancient. A hollow stone ring where the fire never went out, even when it rained. It was a place of old power—binding fire, hearthfire, the kind that could create or destroy in equal measure.
And there, sitting by the well, her knees hugged to her chest, was Kenna.
She was crying.
The sight punched the breath out of him.
For a second, Shayne thought about backing away, leaving her the space she clearly needed.
But his feet moved before his brain did.
He crossed the grass slowly and dropped into a seat beside her. Close enough to be there. Far enough not to crowd her.
Neither of them spoke.
The flames crackled and hissed softly, their reflection dancing on Kenna’s tear-streaked face.
After a long minute, Shayne said, very quietly, “I know I’m annoying. It’s kind of my superpower. But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
Kenna wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic.
Her voice, when it came, was raw and brittle.
“My brother died in a fire last year.”
She didn’t look at him. She looked at the flames.
“I watched it happen. I tried to put it out. I tried to save him.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“My magic failed.”
Her hands curled into fists.
“So, no, I don’t think your jokes are funny.”
The words hit Shayne harder than any spell ever could.
He felt his throat close up, hot and sharp.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it in a way that words could never stretch wide enough to carry.
Kenna’s eyes flicked to him.
Hard. Brimming.
“I don’t want your pity,” she snapped.
“It’s not pity.”
Shayne kept his gaze steady, even when it hurt.
“It’s just...I get it.”
Kenna’s mouth twisted.
“Yeah? You didn’t watch your family burn.”
“No,” Shayne said softly.
“But I did cause the fire that took mine.”
Kenna’s head jerked up.
Her breath caught.
He didn’t explain.
Didn’t need to.
The fire from the Forge Well cracked and popped between them, warm and alive.
Kenna looked at him for a long time.
Measuring.
Weighing.
She didn’t say another word.
But that night, in the common room, when Shayne drifted in with a book under one arm and a half-eaten apple in his other hand, Kenna shifted on the couch to make room for him.
No invitation.
No announcement.
Just a space.
A truce.
Shayne dropped down beside her, bumping her knee lightly with his.
Kenna didn’t pull away.
And the next morning, when he showed up for drills, early and bleary-eyed, Kenna was already there—
waiting,
warming her hands near the practice brazier.
When she caught sight of him, she didn’t scowl.
She didn’t throw sparks.
She just nodded once.
Short. Sharp. Almost invisible.
But Shayne saw it.
And for once, he didn’t c***k a joke.
He just nodded back.
- Writer
