The anchor stone's rift spat us out into a mist-soaked dawn, Ireland's green hills rolling under a sky heavy with clouds, the air sharp with peat and salt. My sneakers sank into damp grass, the Peace Bloom tin a warm pulse in my backpack, Fernie Junior poking out—swish—to boop a nearby fern, like it was fist-bumping a cousin.
Zahir materialized beside me, his misty form coiling tight, bells jingling with a restless, protective edge, his ember eyes scanning the horizon. Kai steadied himself, the amulet under his hemp shirt glowing faintly, his journal clutched tight as he squinted through the fog, a faint grin tugging his lips—like he was already anticipating someone.
"Brigid's territory," Kai said, voice low, a touch warmer than usual, his eyes lingering on the hills. "Her protector's close—a forge, tucked in these hills. Aisling's her name, and she's… intense. Mira, your chaos woke her flame-offshoot—expect a trial hotter than Afi's web."
I smirked, adjusting my bag, Fernie thwacking—thwap!—in excitement. "Hotter? I'm still sweating from Accra's market. Let's meet this Aisling—hope she's got better coffee than Greg's sludge."
Zahir's bells clanged, mist swirling closer, his voice sharp. "Another test? She's faced Jasmin's hunger, woven Anansi's web—how many trials must she endure, Kai? I'm her shield, not some Celtic fire-witch!"
I nudged his mist, warm despite the chill, my chest tingling at his protectiveness. "Chill, Genie—jealous of a flame now? I've got you and Fernie—piece of cake." Fernie high-fived—slap!—leaves rustling like a cheer, toppling a pebble with a clink.
Kai chuckled, leading us down a winding path, his sneakers squelching in the mud, a slight spring in his step.
"Aisling's no witch—she's Brigid's chosen, forging the Bloom's flame into strength. The pact—Lashame, Anansi, Brigid, Quetzalcoatl—demands balance. Jasmin's corruption threatens it, and your chaos, Mira, could tip the scales. Pass Aisling's test, and we're one step closer to stopping her." His voice softened on Aisling's name, his fingers brushing the amulet, like it held a memory.
Zahir huffed, bells tinkling skeptically. "Balance? Jasmin's regrouping—her clan's relics rival your trinkets, Kai. If this Aisling endangers Mira—" His mist brushed my arm, a vow, his eyes flickering with fear and devotion, a spark I couldn't quite name.
I caught Kai's glance, his grin twitching—like he was hiding a secret about Aisling.
"You know her well, huh?" I teased, eyebrow raised. "Spill, hipster—what's the vibe?"
Kai's grin widened, but he shrugged, too casual. "We've crossed paths—pact meetings, protector stuff. She's… fiery. You'll see." His eyes flicked to the path, a flicker of anticipation betraying his chill.
My phone buzzed, Trendy Threads group chat crashing the moment—retail chaos never sleeps. Jen: "Cuz, Greg's banning ferns—says Fernie's 'bad for brand.' Vid's at 300K tho—ur a LEGEND!" Dave: "Shift's dead without u, Mira—u good? Tell ur Genie I'm rooting for him." Greg: "Mira, ur absence is NOTED. Legal's drafting write-ups—fix ur plant!" I groaned, typing back: "Fernie's thriving, Greg—deal. Dave, Genie says hi (not really)." The tin pulsed, and—poof—a wad of euros appeared in my bag, petals flickering briefly. I gaped—Bloom chaos, funding my broke writer life again.
"Again?" Kai said, smirking as I pocketed the cash, his eyes catching the mist. "Your magic's got a spending problem, Mira."
Zahir's bells clanged, sheepish. "I should've—blast, my focus is her safety, not coin!" His mist flickered, like he'd forgotten his Djinn powers in his obsession with guarding me, pride stung.
I laughed, Fernie booping my arm—thwap!—like it was in on the hustle. "You're good, Zahir—keep hunters off, I'll bankroll the quest."
The path led to a stone forge, its chimney puffing smoke into the mist, the clang of hammer on anvil echoing like a heartbeat. Inside, the air was thick with heat, embers glowing in a massive hearth. A woman worked the bellows—short, wiry, her red hair tied back in a messy braid, her eyes sharp as she shaped a blade, sparks flying. Aisling, Brigid's protector, turned, her presence a blaze that rivaled the fire.
She wore a leather apron, smudged with soot, but her gaze locked on Kai first, a spark of recognition—something more—flashing before settling on me.
"Kai," Aisling said, her Irish lilt cutting through the forge's roar, a teasing edge in her tone. "Back already? Thought you'd need a year to recover from our last spar." Her lips quirked, a challenge, as she wiped her hands on a rag, stepping closer.
Kai grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his amulet glinting. "Missed your sparks, Aisling—couldn't stay away. Brought company, though." He nodded at me and Zahir, but his eyes lingered on her, a playful warmth there, like they'd danced this banter before.
Aisling's gaze flicked to me, piercing. "Mira—the writer who woke the Bloom. And her Djinn—bound, fierce." She paused, glancing back at Kai, her voice softening. "You've brought trouble, haven't you, wanderer?"
"Always," Kai said, his grin softening, a quiet history crackling between them—meetings across years, shared fights, unspoken sparks. "This one's big, though—Jasmin's on the hunt."
I stepped forward, Fernie swishing—thwack!—in my bag. "Mira," I said, chin up. "And yeah, stirring stuff—Jasmin's fault, not mine. You Aisling? Ready to test me, or we skipping to the part where I'm awesome?"
Aisling's lips twitched, a half-smile, her eyes steel but amused. "Bold—Brigid likes that. Her flame burns truth, Mira. Your Bloom's root woke my offshoot—a spark in the forge, wild, raw. The pact demands you prove it—forge your chaos into strength, or it consumes you."
Zahir's bells clanged, mist flaring. "Consumes her? She's survived an anti-Djinn—your flames are nothing! Test her lightly, forger, or you'll answer to me."
Aisling met his glare, unfazed, but her glance at Kai held a flicker of mischief. "Your Djinn's got fire, Kai—reminds me of you, back when we trained." She smirked, tossing the rag aside, and Kai's chuckle was low, private, like they shared a memory of singed brows and late-night laughs.
"Focus, Aisling," Kai said, but his grin betrayed him, his fingers brushing his amulet like it anchored more than magic. "Mira's the key—Jasmin's corruption threatens the pact. Lashame's Bloom, Anansi's web, your flame, Quetzalcoatl's feathers—gods swore neutrality against her evil. Her chaos could forge us stronger—or burn us down. Show her, yeah?"
Aisling nodded, her gaze back on me, professional but warm, like Kai's trust meant something. "Aye—prove it, Mira."
I glanced at Zahir, his mist steadying me, then Kai, who winked, a silent nod to Aisling's spark.
"Fine," I said, smirking. "Forge away—Fernie's got my back." The vine high-fived—slap!—toppling a hammer with a clang.
Aisling's test was fire—literal, brutal, and swelteringly unbearable.
She led us to the hearth, its flames dancing with a golden glow that echoed the tin. "Shape the flame," she said, handing me a rod of iron, its tip glowing red-hot. "Brigid's magic forges—channel your chaos, strengthen the metal, don't melt it."
I gaped, sweat beading my forehead from the heat, the forge's roar drowning my nerves. "I'm a writer, not a blacksmith," I muttered, gripping the rod, Fernie twirling—swish—on a workbench like a nervous hype-man.
Zahir's bells jingled, his mist brushing my shoulder, warm and steady.
"You weave worlds, my lady," he said, voice low, fierce, his eyes locked on mine. "This is your chaos—shape it, as you've shaped me."
I nodded, heart pounding, and thrust the rod into the flames. The Bloom flared—jasmine-sharp, flooding my veins. Petals flickered in my mind, guiding my hands, the fire bending—golden, alive, mine. The rod glowed, hardening, but the flames surged—too wild, licking my arm. I yelped, Zahir's mist surging—whoosh—cooling the burn, his bells clanging in panic.
"Focus!" Aisling barked, tossing me a bellows, her eyes darting to Kai, who leaned forward, tense but trusting. "Tame it, or it consumes!"
I pumped, sweat dripping, the flames settling—golden petals weaving into the metal, a blade taking shape, etched with vines. Kai and Aisling exchanged a glance—quick, charged, like they'd seen this fire before, together. Fernie thwacked the workbench—bang!—chasing sparks like a cat, breaking their moment. Hours blurred, my arms aching, but the blade shone—strong, chaotic, mine.
Aisling took it, inspecting the vines, her fingers brushing Kai's as she handed it back, a fleeting touch that lingered. "Unruly," she said, a grudging nod. "But forged true. Brigid's flame accepts you—for now."
Zahir grinned, bells chiming. "She's fire itself—Jasmin'll burn before her."
Kai clapped, stepping closer to Aisling, their shoulders brushing. "Told you she's got it," he said, voice low, a proud spark in his eyes that wasn't just for me.
Aisling's smirk softened, her gaze holding his. "Aye, you did. Still cocky, wanderer—good thing I like that." Her tone was teasing, but her eyes said more—years of trust, fights, maybe something waiting to kindle.
The forge's air shifted—cold, wrong. Aisling froze, her hand tightening on the blade. "She's here," she whispered, stepping back, Kai instinctively moving with her, their stance synced like old partners. "Jasmin."
The forge's doors burst open, anti-magic crackling as Jasmin strode in, her dark braids swaying, her eyes glinting with ravenous hunger. Her hunters flanked her—tall guy with his curved blade, jar-woman with her pulsing relic, gravelly man cracking knuckles. A dark pulse rolled from her, snuffing the hearth's glow, Fernie swishing—thwack!—in panic, toppling a tong with a clatter.
"Mira," Jasmin purred, anti-magic coiling like a living whip, her gaze locked on me.
"Anansi's web, now Brigid's flame—you're collecting trinkets, aren't you? Hand over the Bloom, or I drain you here, sip by sip."
Zahir surged forward, mist flaring, bells roaring like a storm. "You'll not touch her!" he snarled, but Jasmin's pulse lashed out, pinning him to the forge's wall, his mist shuddering under the strain.
I backed up, clutching the tin, the forged blade trembling in my hand. "Back off!" I yelled, petals swirling—whoosh—forming a shaky shield, golden and vine-etched. The hunters lunged—blades flashing, jars pulsing—but Fernie thwacked—whap!—tripping the gravelly man into a coal bin, petals knocking the jar-woman's relic loose, shattering it with a crack.
Kai and Aisling moved as one—Kai's amulet flaring, Aisling's blade slashing—holding the tall hunter at bay. "Stay sharp!" Aisling called to Kai, their eyes meeting, a fierce trust crackling as she parried a strike, Kai's light shielding her flank.
Jasmin laughed, her anti-magic slicing my shield—crack!—splinters of light scattering like embers. "Your chaos is mine," she said, lunging, her hand grazing my arm, a cold burn stealing my breath. The tin fell, rolling across the stone floor, and I stumbled, vision blurring, the forge spinning.
"Mira!" Zahir roared, his bells a desperate clang, raw with fear. His mist surged—not my chaos, his magic—breaking Jasmin's pulse with a force that shook the forge. Golden light flared from him, unbound, raw, a radiant wave that slammed Jasmin into the wall, embers scattering like stars. The hunters froze, reeling, as Aisling's blade flashed, guarding Kai, their movements a seamless dance—her strike, his light, a shared rhythm.
Jasmin rose, smirking despite the blow, dusting soot from her cloak. "Breaking rules, Zahir? Your love weakens you—beautifully. It's granting you freedom, isn't it? Pity it won't save her." She vanished into a dark rift, her hunters scrambling after, the forge's heat surging back, flames roaring anew.
I gasped, collapsing, Zahir's mist catching me—warm, solid, wrapping me like a shield. His bells softened, trembling, as he knelt beside me, his hand—flesh, not mist—brushing my cheek. "You okay, my lady?" he whispered, eyes raw—fear, love, a spark of something new, unbound, flickering in their depths.
I nodded, clutching the tin, Fernie high-fiving—slap!—weakly, leaves drooping. "You… used your magic," I said, voice shaky, my heart pounding at his touch. "Not mine—yours. You broke the rules."
He looked away, bells quiet, a faint flush in his misty form. "I had to—she'd have taken you. My rules… they're bending, Mira. For you—because of you." His voice cracked, soft, like a confession, his love a wish unspoken, unraveling his chains.
Aisling sheathed her blade, her shoulder brushing Kai's as they approached, their stance close, easy. "He's unbounding," she said, her lilt gentle, her eyes flicking to Kai with a knowing spark. "Love's a flame, Djinn—burns rules to ash. You're lucky, Mira."
Kai nodded, his hand grazing Aisling's arm, a fleeting touch that spoke volumes—trust, care, a fire waiting to kindle. "Quetzalcoatl's next," he said, anchor stone ready, his voice steady but warm, like Aisling's presence fueled him. "Jasmin's not done—move fast."
My phone buzzed—Jen: "Cuz, u alive? Dave's moping—spill the tea!" I smirked, Zahir's mist closer, his hand still on mine, his freedom—and our bond—blooming in the forge's fading glow. Fernie booped—thwap!—like it knew the fight was far from over.