The sky was a spill of apricot and amber, streaking across the canopy as the forest exhaled the warmth of the day. Golden light streamed between the trunks, and birds darted overhead in flickers of motion and color. The grass was cool under their feet, the wind brushing gently against the nape of Wade's neck as he ran, laughing.
Lira had already vanished ahead, her figure a blur of silver hair and grace.
"She's flying again," Wade said between gasps, trying to keep pace.
Riven, bounding beside him with fire sparking beneath each step, smirked. "She cheats every time. Wind boost, feathery ankles, too much flair. I'm calling it unfair advantage."
"You literally just burned through three shrubs!" Wade coughed, swatting away a singed leaf that fluttered past his head.
"Battlefield hazards," Riven said, not slowing.
The clearing opened like a sudden breath, the trees falling away to reveal their personal training ground. Old stumps ringed its edge like silent observers, the grass worn from years of fire duels, wind tricks, and Wade's failed ambushes.
Lira was already perched dramatically atop their "throne"—a lopsided stump that she insisted added "narrative weight."
She raised a hand. "Kneel, peasants. Your queen demands entertainment."
"Your queen smells like mushroom soup," Riven called, skidding into the clearing and launching a playful fireball at her feet.
She deflected it with a flick of wind, the blast sailing past and knocking over a rotted log. "Your fire's weak, brother. Is that the best you've got?"
"Oh please," Riven cracked his neck. "That was barely a sneeze."
Wade came in last, arms pumping, lungs burning. He looked like someone losing a race with his own body. "Why do you two get the cool elements?"
"Genetics," Riven said.
"Style," Lira added, leaping down to spin a circle around him, wind tossing his hair into his face.
"I hate you both," Wade muttered.
They erupted into laughter.
But it wasn't cruel laughter. It never was. Even when Riven tackled him from behind or Lira used her wind to trip him up during tag, it was laughter that made Wade feel like part of something real. Something permanent. As if, even though he couldn't light fires or carve wind, he mattered just as much.
Riven collapsed into the grass beside him. "You know, for someone with no magic, you actually run like a guy being chased by tax collectors."
Wade dropped beside him, panting. "I was chased once. By ducks. Vicious, territorial ducks. Don't underestimate poultry."
Lira settled next to them, stretching her arms above her head. "We haven't played a real game in weeks."
"That's because last time Riven singed Dad's fence," Wade said.
"Allegedly," Riven mumbled.
Lira leaned closer to Wade, her voice softer. "You okay, by the way?"
He blinked at her. "Yeah. Why?"
"Just… you looked kind of lost this morning. After the birthday stuff."
"I wasn't—" He hesitated. "I was just thinking."
Her smile was knowing but kind. "Don't get stuck in your head Wade. That place is a maze."
Before he could reply, a twig snapped sharply behind them.
All three stilled.
Birds shot up from the trees, wings flapping with frantic urgency. The air thickened. The temperature dropped slightly. Wade felt it on the back of his neck—something wrong, something pressing in.
Then came the howl.
It wasn't loud at first. Not even high pitched. But it carried. It sounded too close and too chilling—like a wolf had swallowed its own tongue and was still trying to scream.
Lira's hand was already out, wind curling around her fingers.
Riven rose slowly to his feet, fists clenched, fire crackling in thin lines down his arms.
Wade stood up last. His legs were suddenly colder. His hands shook, though he tried to hide it by balling them into fists.
The sound came again—closer.
They heard brush snapping. A guttural growl. The sound of claws on bark. Then the trees to the east trembled—not with wind, but with weight.
"Riven," Lira whispered.
"I see it," Riven said, eyes narrowing.
Wade couldn't see anything yet. But he felt it.
Something coming.
And it wasn't running.
It was stalking.
Wade remained a few paces behind his siblings, his hands trembling slightly, not from fear, but from frustration. They'd always treated him like he was part of the magic, like he belonged. But that didn't change the way others looked at him in the village, or the way teachers pitied him, or the way he still felt the empty space where power should be.
He bent down, picked up a rock, and hurled it into the trees. It smacked against a trunk with a dull thunk. "I hate feeling useless."
"You're not," Riven said suddenly.
Wade blinked.
His brother didn't turn to look at him. He was still watching the trees, still alert. "You think we bring you out here out of pity? You think Lira lets you tackle her stump because you're pathetic? Man, you're slow—but you've got guts. You don't have to be flashy to matter."
Wade didn't know what to say.
Riven added, more quietly, "Also, I did set that teacher's coat on fire for calling you 'mundane.' Just so you know."
A laugh broke from Wade's chest before he could stop it. "You did not."
"Did," Riven said. "Lira covered for me. Said it was 'static magic discharge.'"
Lira, now crouching in the grass, glanced over her shoulder. "I will never forgive either of you for that lie. I got detention for a week."
"It was a noble sacrifice," Wade said, smirking.
Riven reached over, ruffled Wade's hair hard enough to nearly pull a chunk free. "You'd do the same for us."
He would. He knew he would. Without hesitation.
It was in moments like this, sitting in their shared peace, that Wade understood why he'd been given this new life. Not for power. Not for destiny.
But for them.
The wind shifted again.
Wade's smile faded.
Lira stood up fully, wind now rising in visible threads around her like serpents drawn to her breath. "It's closer."
Riven raised a hand, and flame pooled in his palm. Not bright, not roaring. Controlled.
Wade turned slowly toward the trees.
This wasn't a boar. Not a wild dog. Whatever was in the woods didn't snort or grunt—it growled in a guttural tone that suggested too many teeth. And it didn't crash through brush like normal beasts. It slid. Moved low. Predatory.
Wade's pulse raced.
Riven took a slow step forward, shielding Wade with one shoulder. "Go behind me."
"No."
"Wade."
"No." Wade's voice didn't shake. "I'm not leaving you two if something happens."
Silence.
Then Riven nodded once, short and proud. "Alright then. Just stay close."
The woods shuddered again. From the shadows between the trunks, a shape began to emerge. It was hard to make out clearly—dark, wet, something like fur but wrong, patchy and matted like it had been sewn onto something else. It had too many limbs. And its face...
Wade's stomach flipped.
The creature had no eyes. Just slits where a nose should be and a jaw that opened sideways. Rows of jagged, uneven teeth clattered as it breathed.
Lira inhaled sharply. "I don't know this monster."
"That's... not from any book I've read," Riven said.
Wade didn't respond. He was rooted to the earth, heart hammering in his ears.
The creature lowered itself. Ready to pounce.
It wasn't interested in a chase.
It wanted to kill.