The Healer’s Curse

CHAPTER 3 — Sparks in the Rain

The storm turned electric. Bolts of blue energy ripped across the highway, shattering asphalt and throwing sparks into the mist.

Spike ducked behind a guardrail as Ayla darted forward, her blade carving bright arcs through the downpour. “Stay down!” she shouted.

“Working on it!” Spike yelled back. A blast hit the metal beside his head, sizzling through the rain. “What the hell are these guys?”

“Relic Guild enforcers,” Ayla replied, vaulting over a burning hood. “And they don’t miss twice.”

One of the armored men advanced, firing again. Ayla vanished, literally flickered out of sight, and reappeared behind him.

Her blade punched clean through his chestplate, blue light bursting outward. The body collapsed, armor steaming. Spike gaped. “You, teleport?”

“Phase-step,” she said, wiping the blade. “Short range.”

Another soldier raised his weapon. “Target locked!”

Ayla grabbed Spike’s arm and yanked him upright. “Move!”

They sprinted toward the tree line. Rounds of arcane energy exploded around them, cutting down branches and leaving the air thick with ozone. Spike’s lungs burned; his leg throbbed from the earlier crash, but he kept running.

Behind them, one of the SUVs detonated as Ayla flicked her wrist and sent her blade spinning through its fuel line. The blast lit the rain orange and blue. “Nice throw!” Spike shouted.

“Wasn’t a throw,” she said. The blade reappeared in her hand, humming softly.

They reached the forest’s edge, mud splashing underfoot. The trees loomed dark and heavy, shadows flickering with every flash of lightning. “Keep going,” Ayla ordered.

Spike stumbled over a root. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Anywhere they can’t track you.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the relic’s faint hum under his skin. “You said they can sense it, right? So we’re basically a walking beacon!”

“That’s why we move fast.”

A sharp crack split the air. Something whizzed past Spike’s ear and embedded in a tree, glowing faintly, like a dart made of glass. Ayla cursed. “Tracer shot!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’ll see us wherever we run.”

She spun, grabbed the dart, and crushed it in her palm. The light sputtered out. “Buy us a minute, maybe two.”

“Great,” Spike muttered, “plenty of time to die creatively.”

She shot him a quick glance. “You joke when you’re terrified. Noted.”

“I’m a paramedic,” he said. “Gallows humor comes with the job.”

“Then survive long enough to keep making bad jokes.”

They ducked beneath a low ridge. Rainwater streamed down their faces. Ayla crouched, breathing steadily, eyes scanning the trees.

Spike tried to match her calm, but his hands still trembled, the faint blue glow refusing to fade. Ayla noticed. “You’re resonating too strongly.”

“I can’t just turn it off!”

“You can focus it,” she said. “Close your eyes. Picture your heartbeat. Slow it. The relic mirrors your pulse.”

He obeyed, inhaling shakily. The rhythm inside him stuttered, then steadied. The glow dimmed until only faint lines of light traced his veins. “Better,” she said. “Remember that. Lose control, and they’ll track you again.”

A branch snapped nearby. Both froze. Footsteps. Heavy ones. Ayla mouthed: Five of them.

She rose silently, blade angled downward. “When I move,” she whispered, “head east. Don’t look back.”

“I’m not leaving you”

“Do it, Spike.”

The word hit harder than any command. He nodded reluctantly. The first soldier stepped into view, scanning the darkness with a glowing visor. Another followed, weapon raised.

Ayla moved, blindingly fast. Her blade slashed through the first man’s visor before he could react. She kicked the second into a tree, grabbed his weapon, and fired three precise shots.

Energy bolts tore through the underbrush, dropping two more attackers. Spike watched, half-awe, half-terror. She wasn’t just skilled; she was surgical.

Then the fifth enforcer raised a heavy rifle, humming with unstable power. “Ayla!” Spike shouted.

The man fired. Ayla turned, but too late. The bolt hit her square in the chest. She flew backward, crashing through a fallen trunk.

“NO!” Spike ran to her side. Her cloak smoked, the front charred black. She coughed, blood mixing with rain.

“Stay back,” she hissed, forcing herself up. “It’s, non-lethal.”

“Non-lethal? You just got shot!”

“Containment round,” she managed, wincing. “Meant to disable relic-users.”

The surviving enforcer advanced, weapon glowing again. “Target subdued. Prepare extraction.”

Spike’s fear twisted into something hotter. The hum in his chest surged. Ayla saw it. “Don’t”

Too late. Blue light exploded from Spike’s body, vaporizing rain mid-air. The enforcer froze mid-step as the ground beneath him cracked open, energy spilling upward like fire.

Spike’s voice echoed, layered and inhuman. “Stay away from her.”

He thrust out his hand. The world bent. The enforcer screamed, then vanished in a burst of light and static, leaving only the faint smell of ozone.

The glow faded. Spike dropped to his knees, gasping. His hands smoked, skin unburned but shaking violently. Ayla coughed again, staring at him. “You channeled the relic.”

“I didn’t mean to”

“You disintegrated him.”

He looked at where the soldier had stood. “He was going to kill you.”

Her expression softened, just a fraction. “You can’t keep using it like that. Every surge binds it deeper into you.”

“I don’t care,” Spike said. “If it means staying alive, if it means saving someone, I’ll use it.”

She wiped rain from her face. “And if it decides you’re the one who needs saving from?”

He had no answer. Distant engines growled again. More lights flickered between the trees. Ayla steadied herself, pain evident but contained. “They won’t stop now. You’ve just made yourself the highest-priority target in the city.”

Spike glanced toward the lights. “Then what do we do?”

She retrieved her blade and nodded toward the valley ahead. “We vanish before dawn.”

They started moving again, slower this time. Every sound felt magnified, the crack of branches, the low hiss of wind. Spike’s mind buzzed with too many questions and no air to voice them.

Finally he said, “You knew they were coming, didn’t you?”

“I suspected.”

“And you still came for me.”

Her eyes glimmered faintly silver. “The relic inside you isn’t ordinary, Spike. I couldn’t let them take it.”

“What makes mine different?”

“It’s alive,” she said. “Most relics are fragments, yours is a core.”

He frowned. “Core of what?”

Ayla opened her mouth, then stopped. A strange sound rolled through the forest, deep and resonant, like metal grinding beneath the earth. The trees shook. Birds scattered into the sky.

Spike whispered, “Please tell me that’s thunder.”

Ayla’s grip tightened on her sword. “Not thunder.”

The ground split open twenty feet ahead, spraying mud and roots. Something massive clawed its way out, sleek, serpentine, scales shimmering blue like tempered glass.

Two glowing eyes fixed on them. Spike took a step back. “That’s”

“A relic beast,” Ayla finished grimly. “They sent a warden after you.”

The creature reared up, its body coiling through the trees, lightning dancing along its scales. Ayla raised her blade, voice low. “Spike… whatever happens, don’t let it touch you.”

He swallowed. “Why?”

“Because if it does,” she said, “the relic inside you will wake completely.”

The beast roared, and the forest drowned in light.