35 - Nick

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“You act like I have a choice,” Cam puffs. “I’m not choosing this on purpose.”

Witley whirls her eyes.

“I’m trying to choose air for you, for us, but it doesn’t work like that.”

Witley huffs a sigh, resigned to the truth of those words. Elaina and I have explained it to both of them, to all of them. To force the spare spark to sleep without external help, they have to be able to slow the regeneration of one spark while quickening the other. Dark versus light. They won’t be able to navigate that variance without submitting to the Schism Ceremony which they can’t complete without taming their sparks. It’s a loop-the-loop problem that can’t be solved. If it isn’t ready to go, the stubborn spark isn’t going to go, and that’s that.

“Please don’t shut me out,” Cam gusts. “I want to be with you. I choose you. No matter what happens. I only want you.”

“I know.” Witley reaches her hands over to where Cam is wringing hers in her lap. “I’m trying not to.”

Cam and Witley are fighting a lot, Witley becoming increasingly agitated the longer it’s taking for Cam’s sparks to show any indication of a scale fluctuation. We’ve been weighing the charges with spare sparks on a weekly basis since Fiona’s Singularity. Months have passed, but there’s very little change in the results. For Cam, the scales have been consistently balanced for both her air and fire sparks. The longer that balance goes on, the more pressure they’ll feel.

Every charge handles spare spark ignition differently. Some resist Singularity while others embrace it. Fiona grieved the loss of her spare spark, and that feeling is common too. This is another area we have no real experience. So, of course, we want to be as involved in the process as possible, hence the weekly monitoring.

Sunny looks at Grady, something unnerving in her expression. “Which would you pick?”

“No fucking comment,” he growls.

Her fiery eyes hold a clear warning. “Don’t be a pussy. I asked you a question.”

He yelps a nervous lump down his throat. “Please don’t make me pick.”

It’s best he doesn’t answer. She’ll likely pick the opposite of whatever he says anyway just for spite. No use feeling sorry for him. The dipshit seems to really enjoy her torture. And while it’s never happened before, if anyone can scare a stray spark out of them, it’s Sunny.

With the ultimate goal being Synergy, most sparkling connections of an intimate variety are formed with a similar spark base. It’s a waste of energy chasing any other tail. But Grady chose a different path since his earth spark can’t connect with either Sunny’s fire or water sparks. In some ways, they have it easier than Cam and Witley who are trying hella hard to firm a longstanding spark connection. Because either choice Sunny makes has the same result. She’s already outside his Synergy zone. I really don’t know how they’re doing it. Well, I know how they’re doing it. Hazardously. Those poor Ward Emergency Transporters are exhausted from being on standby all the time.

The nurse draws Sunny’s blood and squirts it into the Spark Scale. The blood travels on its path to the respective elements, the water spark making its way there much quicker than the fire spark does.

Grady frowns.

“Yes!” Sunny explodes. “I fucking knew it. You want me to choose my fire spark.”

“It’s your spark,” Grady barks. “Whatever you choose doesn’t change you, and you’re the one I like.”

“Gross,” she backfires. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to find out what happens to soft mouths.”

He pants. “What happens to them?”

I blow out a low whistle. “What happens to them?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Soft mouths are for kissing,” Elaina chimes in, tugging one of my curls to get my attention before they corrupt me.

“Much as I love living vicariously through all your loins, could we maybe just move this the fuck along?” Ainsley snicks.

She ushers Ty toward the nurse to get their weigh-in on the runway. The results show the earth spark is much stronger than the fire spark. In a way that’s promising, but it’s been the same for weeks, seeming to stall there.

Elaina isn’t worried, but I’m worried for all of them. If their sparks don’t make the choice for them, they’ll have to make it themselves, then spend the rest of their lives wondering if they made the right one. It’s better when the spare spark sees itself out than being thrown out with no parachute. Splat. That always lands with splat.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” Ainsley dryfires, sitting in the chair and throwing out her arm in annoyance.

Witley and Grady are the only single Sparklers to come to the weigh-ins with us. For Grady, it’s partly because of Sunny but mostly because of Ainsley. She’s struggling. We can tell that, but she’s being a stubborn blowhole and won’t open up to us. Oh, she roars and thrashes and fights. She’s not hiding that part of herself, but there’s a glimmer of something softer in her, something warm as a summer’s breeze. I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it. Sadly, those winds are blowing cold again, and I don’t know why.

It’s like all the effort we put into bridging the gap to her feelings castle got swept away in a storm. She barely comes to sessions, and she isn’t progressing with any of her sparks. She can’t control them, but that isn’t the problem. None of the spare spark charges have fully tamed them yet. The problem is she can’t resist the wielders by any means but violence. While kicking everyone’s blaster is wildly effective for her, that isn’t the kind of growth she needs. And she’s the only one who can’t block her release. For someone who likes winning as much as she does, losing this way is a double barrel blowback.

“Absolute balance of air, earth, fire, and water,” the nurse announces.

Ainsley’s scale results have been the same each time since her first weigh-in at her Saturation Ceremony. Gloriously balanced. On paper, she’s the ideal candidate for further medical analysis, but her thrasher temperament ejects the opportunity. There’s no way she’ll sit still for testing and evaluation of any kind. We’re lucky ducks she’s consenting to this.

When I first met her, I found her emotional barricade invitational, an opportunity for me to chip away and see what was lurking under there, but I quickly learned she isn’t hiding under that armour protecting herself from others. Instead, she’s protecting them from the inevitable explosion that’s uniquely her. If S.W.O.R.D. did one thing right by her, it was giving her a ready outlet for release of her fury. I honestly can’t see any path for her beyond the Fighting Sect.

But if we’re ever going to have any kind of real progress with her, she’s going to have to holster her guns. Figuring out how to get her to do that is a mission I readily accept. It’s only a matter of time before I figure out where her goat is tied and set that bleater free. Outside the firing line, obviously. I’m not an airhead, contrary to popular belief.

We report the scale results to the Order on a weekly basis, and these results show no progress. Elaina’s disappointed. Me? I’m glad as shit. We’re delaying the inevitable. As soon as one of the spare spark charges tames their sparks, the Dark Royal Guard will come.

Our shattered sparks at the Ward are a testament to knowing they have to come, the sooner the better, but they won’t just come for the charge who tames their sparks. Once they’re here, they’re likely to force the decision on the others whether the flow control milestone is reached or not. Their readiness is irrelevant. Zero pre-flight checks.

They won’t physically force them, by law they can’t do that, but they’re manipulative blowhards who make it seem like choosing is the only available choice. The spare sparks will be executed in one fell swoop, and that experience will hurt the same way igniting the sparks had. I’ve seen it before, and I dread seeing it again. It’s an abuse of power. Plain and simple.

“What’s that face for?” Elaina asks softly, winding her fingers through my curls after all the charges have left.

“What if they won’t choose?” I sputter.

“They have time,” she plinks.

“I don’t think it’ll be enough time for some...” I whitetrail.

“For Ainsley you mean.”

My lips downdraft.

“I think we have to divide and conquer on this one,” she tinks.

“What do you mean? We’re never better apart.”

“She’s softer with me, Nick,” she explains.

I know that’s true. Everyone’s softer with Elaina.

“You won’t be able to sway her,” I tailslide. “She never met a no she didn’t like.”

“Then we’ll care for her like we care for the others,” she offers honestly. “Either way, I promise you won’t lose her.”

“We won’t lose her,” I course-correct.

“You think I’m jealous?”

“In some of my thrustvector dreams you’re jealous.”

She flutters her lashes, and my heart jets around my chest. “I chose you the moment I met you,” I swear. “Every breath I take is for you.”

She leans in to kiss me gently on the lips. “Every breath I make is for you.”

“Hey Flutterby?” I pitch my nose against hers.

“Hmm?”

“What happens to soft mouths?”

She chinkles her chimes, grabs hold of my hand, and pulls me toward her. “I’ll show you, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“If it’s you showing me, I know I’ll like it,” I course-confirm, excited to charter a new flight path with her.