Glimmer Havocbringer's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

Glimmer's palms still ached from Uruk when he sneezed the three of them into a new city. Mud brick again, but taller. A temple rose over the reed roofs. Inside, a priest bent over wet clay. Glimmer watched the man's stylus press wedges into the surface. This was the first archive that chose. Some boasts got clay. Others died in the air. Glimmer wanted the deciding, the moment a man picked what would live. "He's choosing," Glimmer said. "That's the story. Not the words. The choice." Aurora stood beside him, gold spilling from her hair onto the floor. She did not reach for a shell. "You can't grab a choice," she said. "You'll grab the clay. Corrupt what he keeps." "Then teach me to aim," Glimmer said. "Before I reach. Not after I burn." Liora crouched near the priest's basket. Her colors clashed against the beige mud. She hated beige. The tiny mammoth peeked from her jacket. "You aim by giving the spark somewhere to go," she said. "Not somewhere to hide." Aurora studied him. "Fine. A target. Not your hands. Not my cache." She swept gold from her palm. It spun and hardened into small shapes on the floor. Five rats in armor. Helmets, shields, tiny swords. They bristled and squeaked. "Made of my glitter," she said. "They pull sparks. Put your loose spark into the fight, not the clay." Glimmer stared at the armored rats. "You want me to aim at rats." "I want you to aim at anything but the thing you'd wreck," Aurora said. "Choose where it lands. That's control." Glimmer faced the priest. The man weighed one tablet, then set another aside to crumble unbaked. Glimmer felt the story of that choosing rise. He reached. His hands warmed. A spark broke loose and drifted toward the wet clay. He did not lunge to catch it. He pushed. He shaped the pull, aiming the spark down at the little gladiators. It swerved. It struck the lead rat's shield and burst. The rats scattered, squeaking, then charged the spot where it died. The clay stayed clean. His hands stayed whole. The priest's choice lifted into Glimmer's mind, unharmed. The tablets on the shelf did not change. Nothing was scorched. Glimmer looked at his open palms. No smoke. No blisters. "I sent it," he said. "I picked where." "First time," Aurora said. She did not smile, but her voice lost its edge. "You aimed. You didn't bleed for it." Liora scooped up a rat gladiator. It swung its sword at her thumb. "Save that trick," she said. "You'll want it somewhere the clay burns for real." Glimmer flexed his hands. He could aim now, if a target stood close enough. But the rats were Aurora's gold, not his own skill. He had learned to steer a spark toward a decoy. He had not learned to reach a story where no decoy waited.