Page 18 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

Curled up in her lap fast asleep, the fox snored softly. Earlier, it tried to spread its wings and retracted the injured one with a whine. It hurt Emmery’s heart. She’d have to figure out how to mend it, maybe pick up some supplies if there was a town nearby.

“I’m going to name her Aera.” Emmery stroked a gentle finger down her dainty nose and wounded wing, receiving a satisfied sigh in response.

Vesper smiled, a twinkle in his pale eyes. “That’s pretty. Far too pretty for the little demon, if you ask me.” He shot the fox a look and she cracked an eyelid, replying with a quick flash of her fangs. “Why Aera?”

“Because,” Emmery drew out, “she has the strength and bravery of a lion and a heart of gold.”

Vesper gave a little snort. “If you say so. I distinctly remember you saving her , not the other way around. Not exactly brave.”

Stroking Aera’s pillowy fur, Emmery ignored him.

From the tug in her chest, the connection deep in her core, it was as if they already knew one another.

She would die for her a million times over.

It was the first time she’d allowed herself to feel anything in so long and fear crept up her spine now that she had something to lose. Maybe the fox was truly saving her.

Emmery chewed her lip as images of those creatures flashed through her mind and the magic Vesper wielded to fend them off. She searched for the right question.

“You look like you want to ask me something.” Vesper’s arm wrapped around the leg pulled to his chest, the other cradled in the sling. His chin rested on his propped knee as he blinked slowly.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re getting that little crease again.” He ran a finger between his brows. “Right there.”

She frowned. Good to know she had a tell. “Your magic...” Emmery fumbled for the words. “You can raise the dead?”

Vesper ran a gloved hand through his hair, leaving it dishevelled.

“Not quite. I can’t breathe life into them, but I can reanimate bodies.

It’s like puppeteering. I can hold them up with my strings.

Command them. But if I let go, they fall back down.

” Releasing a heavy breath, his expression strained like he was anticipating a poor reaction. “Did it scare you?”

Emmery shook her head. “I want you to teach me.”

He grinned, a wistful relief in it. “Unfortunately, magic can’t be taught.

Only the gods decide what’s given.” The joy slid from his face.

“I don’t know anyone with magic like mine.

I heard rumours of the burden of mimicry in the north, but who knows if they’re even alive anymore.

So much of our magic has gone extinct and died along with our people.

” He shifted his weight, his face scrunching.

“Like your sparks, wisps of our power manifest before we’re beckoned to our trial.

Usually as children. It gives us an inkling of what our magic will be.

Mine started with my father finding me having conversations with empty air.

” Vesper gave a humourless laugh. “He thought I was disturbed, but I was just talking to spirits. When he found out, he didn’t exactly take it well. Didn’t know what to do with me.”

The rawness of his story took her aback.

Emmery’s heart twisted, imagining Vesper as a boy, alone, confiding in spirits, misunderstood, and confused.

She too had been left to deal with her powers on her own.

They shared that but she couldn’t dwell on it.

“So, you can hear spirits, animate corpses, and manipulate air?”

“In short, yes.” He palmed his cavae , almost absentmindedly. “The mimicry is my Hollow magic. The air manipulation is Fallen.”

It dawned on her. The khaos flame was only one power.

Two scars.

Two magics.

She would have two once she passed her trial. Two unruly burdens. Emmery chewed her lip. “How will I know what my second is?”

“It’ll come naturally. Everyone has different threads from their magical line. Some more, some less. I didn’t know what to expect. Speaking to the dead was one thing, but reanimating bodies—” Vesper fidgeted with the clasp of his gloves. “The first time was a bit of a shock.”

Emmery raised a brow. “Oh?”

“It was a few days after my sister, and I passed our trial. I think we were around fifteen. We were out for a walk and found a deer. Its guts were sprayed across the ground from an animal attack, but it was still breathing and, of course, Izora begged me to help. I was inspecting its wounds when its heart gave out and—” Lines creased his forehead. “Well, I felt it die.”

The blood drained from her cheeks. He’d only been a boy . No child should have to deal with that. Emmery whispered, “What did it feel like?”

He was quiet for a tense moment. “Cold and ... numb,” Vesper murmured. “Like leaving the embrace of sunlight for a snowy mist. It’s the same every time.”

Emmery’s breath snagged. Those months after wandering the woods, when she feared her injuries may take her, she faced the same cold brush of Death. But Death had come to collect her, where with Vesper, it merely recognized him as an equal—someone to hold it without fear.

Vesper flexed his fingers. “Izzy was crying, and I wanted to comfort her. To fix it somehow. I didn’t mean to do it.

I just reached and it was like stretching for a force out of my grasp.

Fumbling in empty air. Until it just ...

connected. Those tendrils flew out of my hands and into the deer.

And it stood.” He returned his gaze to Emmery.

“I’m not sure if Iz was more scared, or me. ”

Emmery offered a sympathetic smile. “It must have been tough to deal with that alone.”

“I never did. I always had Izzy,” he said, his voice low, pain laced in the words.

Emmery could practically feel in her own chest how much he missed his sister. How much he cared for her. And she didn’t like what it was doing to her. How it was warping her view of him so easily.

After a silence bloated with emotion, he added, “She was lucky. Her and my father shared the burden of mind. Their magic could control people, make them see things. Plant ideas in their heads. As you can imagine, she always got whatever she wanted with persuasion at her fingertips. When it manifested, my father couldn’t have been prouder.

” A slight bitterness lingered in the admission, though he gazed ahead, his eyes full of memories.

After shaking his head like he could free those thoughts, Vesper said, “She showed early signs for her blessing of water.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he hid a smile underneath. “She used to waterboard me when I was being, her words exactly, a ‘loud-mouthed, dung-brained, colossal prick’.”

Emmery laughed, biting her lip as she untangled a stubborn knot in Aera’s fur. “And I suppose you did nothing to earn that name?”

“I didn’t say she was wrong.”

They shared a vulnerable look, and Emmery was the first to pull away.

She cleared her throat, eager to steer the conversation from the battling emotions in her chest. “We didn’t discuss the trial much.

What do I have to do? You said it's dangerous and some people—” She swallowed against her dry throat, nerves swarming her stomach like bees. “Die.”

“You’ll be fine.” Vesper waved her worry away.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the Whispering Spring.

It's a simple ceremony. You drink out of a chalice, perform the trial in your mind, and the gods test you. If you pass, they give you your power. If you fail, you never wake up or they allow you to live without magic. For some, that’s worse than death.

It’s unknown if it’s a moral decision or a test of strength. Only the gods know.”

An acidic taste flooded her mouth.

He continued, “I can’t tell you exactly what the trial will be. It’s different for everyone. The gods pit your weaknesses against you. We can discuss them, but I have a feeling you won’t. Am I right?”

Emmery gave a brisk nod, staring at her bandaged toes. It would involve water, no doubt about that. And gods knew what else. She was weak in so many ways. Her stomach knotted as she wrestled with that fear.

“Right now, your magic is only a kernel. After you pass, your power will amaze you.”

If she passed. Why was he so sure she would? Emmery wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m not sure I can handle more power.”

“You can.” Vesper reached for her like he wanted to show her but dropped his hand. “Your magic was overwhelming because you never understood it. You couldn’t safely release it and were made to fear it. Not exactly a recipe for success.”

A cold breeze swept in, dimming the fire. Emmery snapped her fingers, sending sparks onto the simmering logs. The wood hissed happily.

“See? You’re already doing it. Magic is tied to our emotions as much as it is our blood.

Our adrenaline. It’s a natural instinct and evolutionary trait for our protection so we can summon it when we’re in danger.

If you were scared or angry, it would flare your magic, making it difficult to control.

Impossible to suppress. Yet you did it.”

“So, my state of being for the last hundred years,” she muttered, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “It’s pathetic, really.”

“It’s not.” Vesper’s stare softened. “It takes admirable strength to endure what you did.”

Emmery flushed at the compliment, examining the forest floor. No one had ever said she was strong aside from Maela, but she was only a child. To children, all adults were spectacularly veiled by an illusion of bravery up until they were grown.

The glowing fire scattered shadows down Vesper’s face. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t.

Emmery bit into her cheek, eager to change the subject. “Why did you never go to the north? To look for people with magic like yours?”

“It was too dangerous.” He shrugged. “Also, the same reason you never crossed the gate. The north passage is sealed and there’s no other way. The waters are too treacherous to travel though we’ve tried. So, the north remains out of reach.”

Emmery offered him a wisp of a smile. “Maybe one day you can.”

“Maybe.” He closed his eyes, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks. With a sigh, he lay back against his bedroll. “We should sleep.”

Emmery lay awake long after Vesper drifted off, listening to his long, even breaths and Aera’s soft snores in her ear. After whispering her nightly prayers to Deimos and Kahlia, hoping these new gods might take pity on her, she downed the rest of her canteen.

The day’s weight and looming trial bore down on her but, more so, their conversation.

She couldn’t ignore that this was the first time Vesper had opened up and shared a scrap of himself that wasn’t a fiendish grin or smart remark.

Why did he do that? It stirred complicated feelings inside her she didn’t know how to process.

She dragged her hand down her face with a groan. Perhaps her plan to keep her distance would prove more difficult than she thought.