Chapter 4: A Spark of Magic
As they approached the tent, John spotted Darius waiting for them, his face etched with concern. "*There you are*," he said, relief flooding his features. "*Where did you disappear to so early?*"
Anya unfastened John's carrier, carefully deposited him in a makeshift crib, a wide smile breaking across her face, and shared a passionate kiss with Darius.
Darius reciprocated with equal fervor before Anya pulled away with a playful giggle. "*Someone seems to be in a particularly good mood*," he teased, his voice warm with affection.
"*Jonathan just checked Pyrrhus*," she beamed. "*Everything looks perfect!*"
"*That's fantastic news!*" Darius exclaimed, his relief evident. He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Anya's forehead. "*But perhaps a kiss doesn't quite express how relieved I am. Maybe we could…*" He trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
John's thoughts snapped away from the magic musings. "Please, no!" he wanted to scream, his tiny body tensing.
Anya, thankfully, seemed to understand the unspoken plea. She playfully swatted Darius' arm. "*Stop it*," she scolded, a hint of amusement in her voice. "*Our son is right here.*"
Darius chuckled, the mischievous glint fading. "*He's just a little guy*," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "*Too young to remember any of that, right?*" But thankfully, he stepped back.
John let out a mental sigh of relief. Any further and the scene would've scarred him for life.
Both Anya and Darius were young, barely 21 or 22 and John was sure they would get back to business soon.
He just hoped they'd wait until he could at least cover his eyes, or better yet, crawl away and hide.
But the interruption doused his fascination. While everyone loved a good magic trick, John knew better than anyone the dangers of curiosity without knowledge.
How many fire accidents stemmed from the allure of a flickering flame, the misplaced belief that it could be controlled? Magic could be just as unpredictable, and John, for one, wasn't about to tempt fate until he understood it better.
With a resigned sigh (if a baby could sigh), John embarked on another day of his four monotonous duties. However, a spark, much like the ones he used to battle against, now flickered within him. He couldn't help but fantasize about magic, what it could do, what secrets it held.
As night settled and Anya prepared him for sleep, a sudden flap of the tent entrance startled them all. A grizzled warrior, weathered and battle-worn, stood imposingly in the doorway, a sheathed sword strapped to his side. Surprise flickered across both Darius and Anya's faces.
"*Greetings, Bram*," Darius finally managed, recovering first. "*What brings you here?*"
Bram's gaze flicked down to John, nestled in Anya's arms. "*May I take Pyrrhus for a walk?*" he asked, his gruff voice surprisingly gentle.
Anya and Darius exchanged a confused glance. Anya's hesitation was clear, a flicker of protectiveness crossing her features. Darius, however, seemed to come to a quick decision.
"*Of course*," he said, a hint of trust softening his tone.
"*Thank you*," the Bram rumbled, his voice gruff but sincere. Anya, still hesitant, carefully handed John over. He seemed to sense her apprehension as a kind smile softened his weathered features.
"*He'll be perfectly safe with me*," he assured her, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a formidable figure.
As the warrior turned to leave, Darius called out. "*And, Bram, can you find out anything about the mark?*"
The warrior stopped in his tracks, then turned back to face them. "*I will*," he promised. "*I promise.*"
Bram reached the edge of the clearing, pausing to peer into the encroaching darkness. John, mimicking his action, craned his neck as best he could, utterly confused.
"*A peaceful location is key for a beginner, young one*," Bram explained, his voice surprisingly gentle. "*It allows you to sense the mana more clearly.*"
Whatever he said, the words went over John's head. Not a single word made any sense to him. How did the man expect a baby to understand it anyway?
Bram lifted a hand, a warm smile creasing his weathered face. "*Watch closely, little one*," he said, extending his palm towards John.
A soft, pulsating light emanated from Bram's open hand, swirling with what looked like miniature, shimmering stars. John's eyes widened in fascination, his tiny hand reaching out instinctively.
But curiosity warred with a firefighter's ingrained caution. What if this was dangerous? But Bram's smile, it held a warmth that reminded John of Captain Davies, the man who'd always had his back. Maybe, just maybe, this was safe.
He clumsily grasped at the shimmering particles, but they danced through his tiny fingers like fireflies. Frustration bubbled up within him. C'mon, he thought, his little body wriggling in excitement. Let me touch them!
Suddenly, an idea struck him. Focusing on a single, swirling dot, John willed it towards him, miming a grabbing motion with his hand.
The dot hesitated, then, as if obeying an unspoken command, zipped towards him, entering his body through his open palm. A cool sensation washed over him, a tingling that spread through his tiny limbs.
A twig snapping underfoot startled Bram, and he turned his attention away from John for a brief moment. John, however, was oblivious, completely absorbed in this new experience.
This is just the beginning, he thought, his tiny fist clenching with determination. I'm going to figure this out. I'm going to learn everything I can about this magic.
Approaching their secluded spot, Jonathan leaned heavily on his walking stick.
"*I thought I might find you here*," Jonathan rasped, his voice laced with concern as he surveyed the scene.
Bram inclined his head in greeting. "*Jonathan. What brings you out here?*"
Jonathan sighed heavily, leaning on his walking stick. "*Bram, he's just a baby. What exactly are you hoping to achieve?*"
"*He may not understand my words now*," Bram countered, his gaze flickering back to John who was still mesmerized by the swirling lights. Neither of them noticed one of the motes from countless others disappear into John's palm. "*But consistent repetition… it can plant the seeds of knowledge. When he's older, these lessons will resurface. He has the potential to become a great mage, Pyrrhus does. After all, he is born of fire.*"
Another sigh escaped Jonathan's lips. "*Born of fire, huh? Those are myths and folklore, Bram.*"
"*But even myths hold a grain of truth*," Bram countered, his voice firm yet respectful.
Jonathan's eyes darkened, his voice lowering to a grave whisper. "*When one is weak, even blessings can bear the weight of curses.*"
Bram straightened, his expression resolute. "*Then I will protect the child with my life.*"
With a defeated shake of his head, Jonathan turned to leave, his walking stick tapping a rhythmic beat against the ground. "*I pray he becomes a powerful mage*," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "*There's much we've lost that desperately needs to be recovered. Just remember, Bram, don't keep your actions from his parents.*"
Bram nodded solemnly. "*Secrecy was never my intention.*"
***
A/N:
Thanks for reading Chapter 4! I hope you're enjoying John's journey as Pyrrhus. Your comments and votes really motivate me to keep writing.
If you like the story, please show your support with Power Stones and Golden Tickets. Your encouragement means a lot!
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