Stevie's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

The morning after the sparring, Stevie returned to the great tree to drill her commands alone. The trial waited at dusk. She wanted her voice steady before the gods and the crowd. Her phoenix perched on a low branch. Andromeda crouched in the grass, gold scales bright in the light. "Andromeda, low," Stevie said. The word came out thin. She tried again. "Up." Her voice cracked. The phoenix hesitated, then rose. She pictured the arena. Hundreds of faces. Gods watching from high seats. Her chest tightened. She opened her mouth and nothing came. Andromeda tilted her head, waiting. The phoenix chirped, confused. Stevie's hands shook. If she froze like this at dusk, her companions would fight blind. The lion would tear them apart while she stood mute. "Speak, child." The voice rolled from the roots. Stevie looked up. The huge trunk had a face carved in bark, with eyes like green pools. The tree gazed down at her. "Your fear is loud. Louder than your orders." Stevie swallowed. "I can't stop it. In front of everyone, I'll lock up." "Then think past yourself," the tree said. Its branches shifted, though no wind moved. "You fear the crowd. But the crowd will not bleed for your silence. Your dragon will. Your bird will. They cannot see the lion the way you can. They wait for your voice to guide them." Stevie looked at Andromeda. The dragon's red eyes held hers, steady and trusting. The phoenix had once dove at a lion's eyes to save her. They had given her everything. "If you freeze," the tree went on, "the lion finds the throat. Your fear becomes their wound. Speak for them, not for the crowd. The crowd does not matter. They do." Something shifted in Stevie's chest. The faces in her mind blurred and went quiet. She saw only her two companions, depending on her. Fear for herself was small. Fear for them was fuel. She planted her feet. She thought of Andromeda torn open because her voice failed. The picture made her sick, and it made her strong. "Andromeda, low!" The command rang out, hard and clear. The dragon dropped and swept the grass. "Up!" The phoenix shot high and dove. "Low! Hold! Now up!" Stevie called the pattern again and again. Her voice did not shake. It filled the clearing. Both beasts moved as one, matching every word. She ran the drill until her throat went dry. Not once did she freeze. The trembling was gone, buried under something stronger than her own fear. Stevie lowered her hands and breathed. The tree's green eyes watched her, quiet now. "You have found your voice," it said. She had. But finding it in an empty clearing was one thing. At dusk, the lion would be real, the crowd would be real, and the gods would be watching. Tonight she would learn if the strength held when the teeth were true.