Zap Stormspike's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

Inside the house, Zap's hair still spat sparks. Each breath came too fast. The teacher stood close, calm, but a stray bolt jumped from Zap's shoulder and scorched the wall beside them. Zap froze. One more jolt, and the only person willing to help could be hurt. The teacher did not flinch. They lifted a battered leather book from a shelf and pressed it into Zap's hands. "Hold this. Read the first line. Out loud." The ledger was heavy, full of tight handwriting and small diagrams. Zap's fingers shook against the pages. "Outside," the teacher said. They guided Zap through a back door into a wide yard. A tall copper rod rose from the dirt, its finials rust-orange and humming. Beyond it stood a cracked stone wall, scorched black with old lightning scars. Someone had practiced here before. Someone had survived. "Touch the rod," the teacher said. "Let it pull what you cannot hold." Zap pressed a sparking palm to the copper. The jolt tore out of them in a bright arc. It climbed the pole and bled into the sky. Zap's knees buckled, but the air around the teacher went still and safe. Above the far rooftops, Zap saw it for the first time — a floating school of crackling energy, its towers ringed in lightning, suspended like a held breath. "That is where you will study," the teacher said. "Once you can walk inside without breaking it." Zap nodded, panting, the ledger clutched tight. The danger inside the house was gone. The teacher was unhurt. But a bright shape was forming at the edge of the yard, pulled out of Zap by the discharge — a small bird of lightning, watching them with electric eyes. It had not been called. It had simply arrived.