The first whisper reached Mira at the baker's stall.
"They say your Kael lit up their fingers like a mage," the baker said, eyes flicking nervously toward the other customers. "Branth's spark trick. Worked on the first try."
Mira set down the coins harder than she meant to. "Children try things. It doesn't mean anything."
"They said the spark was clear," the baker insisted. "Not a fizzle. Clear."
---
By the time she returned home with the loaf, Mira had heard it three more times, passed between lips that thought they were quiet.
She didn't say anything when Kael came back from errands later that day, but she watched them closely.
---
Kael wasn't thinking about the market at all.
They had slipped away with a small pebble in one hand, their bucket of water abandoned in a side alley.
The world outside this alley didn't matter.
What mattered was why the words worked.
---
Kael crouched, closed their eyes, and whispered Branth's spark spell, exactly as he'd taught it:
Breathe on the cold stone,
call the hidden fire within,
let it answer me.
Five beats. Seven. Five.
A spark jumped across their fingertips.
---
Then Kael did something they hadn't tried before.
They changed one word.
They knew from Branth's lesson that the rhythm mattered, so before opening their mouth, they counted the syllables on their fingers.
Cold was one beat.
They needed another one‑syllable word to take its place.
---
"Hot," Kael whispered, replacing it.
Breathe on the hot stone,
call the hidden fire within,
let it answer me.
The beats lined up perfectly.
This time, the spark came — but it flared too fast, so bright that Kael hissed and jerked their hand back.
It burned hotter.
---
So, the spell still worked, but the effect changed.
---
Next, Kael tried the original words again, but with the word warm instead of cold:
Breathe on the warm stone,
call the hidden fire within,
let it answer me.
The count was perfect — and the spark came, smaller, more gentle.
---
Fascinated, Kael tried again with hard stone instead of cold.
One syllable, one syllable.
The spark came, sluggish and dim.
---
Their grin widened.
As long as the beats were perfect, the spell always worked — but its character changed with the word.
---
Next, they tried changing two words.
Second line: instead of hidden fire within, they tried secret fire within.
Five. Seven. Five. The syllables still lined up.
The spark came, but it was slower, like coaxing something shy from behind a curtain.
---
Then Kael decided to try something wrong on purpose.
Breathe on the heavy stone,
Six syllables.
The beat was broken.
Nothing happened.
---
They laughed softly.
"Okay. That's the rule. Break the beat, break the spell."
---
For the next hour, Kael experimented, speaking softly and counting every beat on their fingers, their voice low so no one could hear.
Hot made the spark burn faster.
Warm made it softer.
Hard made it stubborn.
Secret instead of hidden made it slow to form but longer lasting.
Each time they drifted from the beat, the spell failed completely.
---
By the time the bucket was finally filled and they headed home, the pads of their fingers were red and tingling, and they had learned one thing:
Syllable count was law.
---
Mira was waiting when they stepped inside.
"Where were you?" she asked, voice calm in that dangerous way that wasn't really calm.
"In the alley," Kael said.
"Practicing?"
Kael hesitated, then nodded.
---
Mira sighed. "You can't keep doing this."
"Why?"
"Because people are talking. You made a spark in front of them. That isn't something people forget. They'll watch you now, waiting for a mistake."
---
"But I can do it," Kael said quietly. "I can do it better now."
"That's not the point," Mira said, crouching down. "Magic is dangerous for anyone. It's worse for someone like us. One wrong step, and they'll blame you even if it isn't your fault."
---
Kael looked at her, puzzled. "But what if I get good enough there isn't a wrong step?"
"That's not how the world works," she said, brushing their hair back. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," Kael said.
They meant it.
But "careful" didn't mean "stop."
---
That night, Mira and Tarren sat at the table long after Kael had gone to bed.
"They're already different," Mira said softly. "Now everyone else is starting to see it."
---
The next morning, Kael returned to the alley.
This time, they didn't just experiment with substitutions. They tried something new entirely:
A spell of their own design.
---
They thought about what they wanted:
Light, not heat. A soft glow.
Three lines.
Five. Seven. Five.
And every word counted out on their fingers.
---
Stone, hold a small glow,
gentle light inside the dark,
come out, shine for me.
---
They whispered carefully.
For a moment, nothing.
Then a faint glow appeared in the pebble in their hand.
It lasted a heartbeat, then faded.
---
Kael gasped softly.
It worked.
---
They repeated it, fingers trembling slightly.
Second try: Two heartbeats.
Third: A thin, pale light that clung to the pebble for three breaths.
---
By the fourth day, the glow lasted long enough that Kael could study it, watch the faint yellow-white shine clinging to the smooth stone.
---
But the whispers outside their alley were getting louder.
---
Even Alren heard them.
"They say you can do magic now," he said by the river. "Not just sparks."
Kael skipped a stone. One. Two. Three.
"I can make a spark," they admitted. "And… something small."
"That's enough," Alren said. "Be careful."
---
Kael turned toward him. "You think they'll hate me for it?"
"I think they already look for reasons," Alren said. "This just gives them another one."
---
Kael nodded and handed him another stone. "Your turn."
---
The light in the sky turned golden. For a while, the river washed the weight of the whispers away.
---
But when Kael got home, Mira and Tarren were waiting.
---
"You can't let anyone see," Tarren said.
"I don't," Kael said. "I practice alone."
"They still see," Mira said softly. "Even when you try to hide, someone always sees."
---
Kael stared at the table.
"I don't want to hide forever," they said quietly.
"You may not have a choice," Tarren said.
---
Kael said nothing more, but when they lay in bed that night, their lips shaped the words of their new spell silently in the dark.
Five. Seven. Five.
Perfect beats.
---
No one could see them in the dark, but the faintest glow bloomed in their cupped hands, then faded.
They smiled into the night.
They would not stop learning.