Zap Stormspike's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

A storm rolled in fast over the yard. Black clouds dragged low across the rooftops. The lightning bird circled once, then perched on a tall jagged bolt-shaped sculpture near the back fence. Its electric eyes locked on the teacher. Zap's stomach dropped. The teacher did not move. They lifted a glowing orb from a small table by the door. Runes spun inside it. "It is marking a target," they said quietly. "Do not run. Do not shout." A rusted yellow warning sign creaked on the fence as the wind picked up. The bird crouched. Sparks rained from its wings. Zap felt the old panic rise, the same fear that had made the bird in the first place. If it struck, it would hit the teacher before any lesson began. Zap's hands shook around the ledger. "Call it back," the teacher said. "It came from you. It will answer you." Zap stepped forward, away from the teacher, into the open dirt. Rain began to hiss against the copper rod. Zap held out one sparking hand toward the perched bird. "Come here," Zap whispered. "I made you. Come here." The bird leapt. It did not strike the teacher. It dove straight into Zap's open palm and burst, harmless, into a shower of bright dust. Zap staggered, breathing hard, hair crackling but quiet. The teacher lowered the orb. A new rune had locked inside it, steady and gold. "Good," the teacher said. "Now we can begin."