Elementals: The Prophecy of Shadows

by Michelle Madow

  “I just don’t understand why my powers are different than everyone else’s,” I confessed what had been keeping me up all night. “You and the others can control the elements. That seems more useful than what I can do.”

  “Maybe it’s because spirit is so different from the physical elements,” he said. “But I think your power could be the most useful of them all. I actually wanted to try something with it.” He pulled out a pocketknife, and before I could ask him what he was doing, he pushed back the sleeve of his jacket, lowered the blade to his arm, and made a small incision. A thin line of blood emerged from the cut, bright red against his skin.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked, looking from the cut to his face and back again.

  “So you can practice using your power,” he said. “I would never ask you to do that to yourself, so I had to do it to me.” He held his arm out and watched me expectantly. “Now—are you going to heal this or what?”

  “Of course I’ll try.” I rested my hand over the cut, his blood sticky against my palm. “But I’ve only done this once, and I had no idea what I was doing. I’m sorry if it doesn’t work again.”

  “It’ll work,” he said. “I believe in you.”

  I wished I believed in myself half as much as he apparently believed in me. But since I didn’t want to leave him bleeding for any longer than necessary, I closed my eyes and tried to recreate whatever I’d done when I healed my own arm in class. I pictured white energy flowing through my body, feeling the warm tingle as it rushed through my arm and came out of my palm. Once the energy died out, I opened my eyes and lifted my hand.

  The cut was still there. I watched, defeated, as a drop of his blood leaked out and dripped onto the floor of the merry-go-round.

  Apparently I wasn’t as powerful as Blake thought I was. He’d had so much faith in me that he’d injured himself, and I couldn’t even heal him. I was a failure.

  “Try to imagine what the cut feels like.” He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching mine, and my heart pounded faster. “Think about when you healed yourself. You did it before, so you can do it now. I know it.”

  “Okay.” I closed my eyes and imagined the cut on my arm instead of on his, transferring whatever pain he was feeling onto myself. Calling forth the white energy again, I allowed it to flow out of my palm where my hand rested on his arm, picturing the skin knitting together and returning to normal. At the same time I felt the same thing happening to me, until the pain I’d created in my mind disappeared and the last bit of white energy flowed out of my body. Then I opened my eyes to see if it worked.

  His skin was smooth, as though the cut had never existed in the first place.

  “Perfect.” He nodded and pulled his sleeve back down. “Now if any of us get injured, we know you can fix it.”

  “I don’t know how much I can do,” I said, leaning back against the pole to stop my head from spinning. “It wears me out pretty fast.”

  “It’ll get easier with practice,” he assured me. “The same way that athletes get stronger the more they work out.”

  “It works the same way for us?”

  “It’s why the Elders are so powerful,” he said. “But I have a feeling that it’ll come naturally to you. There’s something different about your powers—something I’ve never seen before. You shouldn’t have been able to capture energy on your first day, and now, a week later, you have that mastered and you’re healing people. It’s incredible.”

  “There’s something different about all of our powers,” I reminded him. “Me, you, Kate, Chris, and Danielle.”

  “True,” he said. “So I guess none of us know what to expect now.”

  We stared at the stars again, the mention of Danielle’s name hanging in the air. I couldn’t put off asking about her any longer.

  “What did you mean in your text?” I asked, needing to get the question off my chest. “When you said that things were complicated between you and Danielle?”

  “I’m surprised it took you so long to ask,” he said, and I leaned forward, waiting for him to continue. “Things between me and Danielle … haven’t been great recently. I don’t know how much you know, so I’m just going to put it out there—there’s a group of us that get together privately to practice using gray energy. It’s not illegal, but we’re not taught it in school, so we wanted to train ourselves to use it. We never thought we would need it, but teaching ourselves something we’re not allowed to learn in school was fun. Then, last semester, Danielle started using it on humans. At first it was small things, like putting gray energy into the pens of people she didn’t like right before they took a test, so they would mess up.”

  “And putting gray energy into my tennis racket?” I asked.

  “Exactly,” he said. “But then, in November, she put gray energy into a girl’s drink, just because the girl was talking to me at a party.”

  “Were you … interested in that girl?” I didn’t want to accuse him of anything, but I was curious if Danielle had an actual reason to be jealous. It wouldn’t make what she did okay, but I still wanted to know.

  “No,” he said immediately. “Not at all. We had woodworking together, and we were talking about our latest project for class. She was shy and seemed uncomfortable at the party, so I didn’t want to leave her by herself. Then Danielle saw us, jumped to conclusions, and put gray energy into her drink right before she drove home …” He paused and looked out at the trees, his eyes pained at the memory.

  “Kate told me about what happened to her.” I reached for him and rested my hand on his arm, glad when he didn’t move away. “I hope you know it’s not your fault.”

  “It’s Danielle’s fault,” he said, snapping back into focus. “And I haven’t been able to look at her the same since.”

  “But you’re still with her,” I said. “Why?”

  “I ended things with her right after it happened,” he said. “She’d changed too much from the person she was when we’d first started dating, and I didn’t like who she’d become. But she came crying to me a week later, promising she wouldn’t use gray energy anymore, and begged me to give her another chance. So I did. But after what she pulled on you during your tennis try-out the other day, I’m done. She loves using gray energy too much to give it up, and I hate thinking that anyone I talk to is at risk of getting hurt by her. I was planning on telling her tonight, but then everything happened with the prophecy, and I couldn’t risk it. Because whatever we have to do tomorrow is important, and I have no idea what she’ll do when I tell her it’s over.”

  “Wow.” I let out a long breath, and realizing how long my hand had been resting on his arm, I pulled it back onto my lap. “I had no idea. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me. It means a lot.”

  “And it means a lot to me that you gave me a chance tonight and heard me out,” he said. “Danielle’s so jealous of you—I’m worried that after I end it with her, she’ll blame you. And I don’t want her to do anything that might hurt you.”

  “I have you, Kate, and Chris on my side,” I said. “The three of you will protect me. And I have ways to protect myself now, too.”

  “True.” He smiled. “You do.”

  “But Danielle’s so confident and strong,” I said. “Why would she be jealous of me?”

  “Let’s see…” He leaned back and looked up at the stars, as if he had as many reasons as the lights twinkling up above. “You’re more powerful than her. You’re better at tennis. Your element—the aether—is the center of all of ours. You’re the one who Darius entrusted with the prophecy. And using your powers is so natural to you that it seems like you have more potential than any of us. It’s impressive.” He smiled at me, and my stomach did that whole flipping thing again.

  Hopefully the cold air disguised the redness creeping onto my cheeks. “Thanks,” I said softly, glancing down at my hands.

  “I mean it,” he said, scooting closer to me. I shivered, unsure if it was because of the wind or the
fact that Blake’s hand brushed softly against mine. “Still not used to the cold?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” I said. “Especially at night. Not that the night isn’t pretty, but it’s warmer during the day. I love being in the sun.”

  “So let’s create our own sun.” He flicked on the lighter and grabbed the flame, floating it above his palm. It grew into a yellow sphere the size of a snow globe, and the heat warmed my face, stopping my shivering. The fire had taken on a life of its own.

  He put the lighter back in his pocket and held his other hand underneath the fire as well, balancing the orb of light in his palms. It grew to the size of a basketball and floated up until it was right above our heads.

  He’d created our own personal sun.

  “Wow.” I stared up at it in amazement. “That’s incredible.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ve been practicing.”

  He was watching me so intensely, and I wondered if he was about to kiss me. My heart fluttered at the thought. I’d never been kissed before—that one time during truth or dare at tennis camp last summer didn’t count—and I didn’t know what to expect. All I knew was that I wanted this—I wanted him.

  But just when he started moving closer, a twig snapped behind us, and I glanced over my shoulder to see what it was.

  “Is someone there?” I whispered, panic flooding my veins. Were we even allowed to be here right now? What if the cops found us and were going to get us in trouble? Hopefully they wouldn’t call my parents. I would definitely be grounded if my parents found out that I’d snuck out and had gotten caught for breaking and entering. Well, we hadn’t broken anything, but we did enter.

  “It’s probably an animal.” Blake looked back up at the fire and made it burn brighter. “They’re everywhere around here.”

  Just as he said it, something growled and stepped out of the shadows. At first I thought it was a wolf, but whatever this … creature was, it definitely wasn’t something I’d heard of before. It looked like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. Its neck was split into two, each one sprouting a separate head. Its tail stood on end—a scaly thing that looked like it belonged on a scorpion, the spiky tip pointing straight into the air.

  I grabbed Blake’s arm and looked at him to check if he was seeing this, too. Judging by the horror splashed across his face, he was.

  Growling again, the creature dug its front claws into the dirt and lowered its heads to the ground, its glowing yellow eyes locked on ours.

  Then it chomped its teeth together, let out a feral growl, and charged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Run!” Blake yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling me off the merry-go-round.

  It spun under our weight, and I held onto the metal bars, pushing off of them to leap over the edge. The cedar chips on the ground cushioned my landing. The car was behind us, which would mean running towards the monstrous hound, so I bolted for the playground, hurrying up a ladder of rubber tires that led to the closest platform. Blake followed close behind. The second he was up he took the lighter out of his pocket and aimed a blue fireball at the tires, melting them to the ground seconds before the hound reached them.

  It looked up at us and growled—a low, menacing sound that if I spoke dog I would have assumed meant “I’m going to have you for dinner”—and tried to jump onto the platform. It missed by only a few inches.

  Blake flicked on his lighter and threw a fireball at the hound’s chest, but it jumped to the side to get out of the way. It turned all four of its eyes up at us, one head letting out a deep roar as the other snapped its teeth together, taking bites out of the air.

  My hands shook, and I gripped one of the log posts behind me for support. “Have you learned how to fight these things in homeroom?” I asked Blake, my voice rising in panic.

  He threw another fireball, and it missed the hound again. “No,” he snapped, the flames lighting up his face. “Fighting legendary creatures isn’t on the syllabus.”

  “Maybe it should be,” I said as he launched another ball of fire, hitting the hound on its front paw. Both of its heads yelped in pain. The scorpion tail lowered between its legs, and it growled again before turning away from us and running around the side of the playground, woodchips flying behind it as it gained speed.

  My heart pounded, and I looked around to figure how to get off the platform. The exit was a slide that dropped off at the monkey bars. I could get down and run to the car, but I didn’t know where the hound was, and leaving the platform could give it the perfect opportunity to pounce.

  Then the hound growled again. I turned around, spotting it clamoring up a ladder of logs that led to a nearby platform. Only a wobbly bridge separated that platform from our own. My entire body shook, and I moved closer to Blake, grabbing his arm for support.

  The hound reached the top of the platform, and its glowing eyes narrowed, ready to attack.

  Not having anywhere else to go, I launched myself down the slide and hurried to the monkey bars, climbing up the ladder and hoisting myself on top of them. Gripping the sides, I crawled to the center bar, but the ground spun beneath me, my lungs tightening as I looked down. I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself. A six-foot fall wasn’t deadly. Now wasn’t the time to let my fear of heights get to me.

  Blake scrambled behind me, and I turned around to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face from the flames, but other than that he looked okay. He took his lighter out again, holding it up in preparation to create another fireball.

  I looked back at the hound in time to see it run along the bridge and hurl itself towards us. It bared its teeth as it flew through the air, its arms outstretched as it came closer to the monkey bars. But it must not have had enough force behind the jump, because it fell to the ground with a loud thump. It stood and shook the woodchips off its fur, a low growl coming from somewhere deep in its throat as it turned its heads up to look at us.

  Before I could say anything to Blake about how completely screwed we were, he threw two balls of fire towards the hound, hitting both of its faces. It howled and collapsed, whimpering as it buried its snouts in its paws. The smell of burnt skin filled the air. My stomach swirled with nausea, and I lifted a hand to my nose to block out the odor.

  Only a few seconds passed before it stood up again. The fur on its faces had changed into a charred grey. Its yellow eyes glowed brighter now, both snouts chomping madly in the air, strings of saliva dripping to the ground as it waited to devour whichever one of us lost our balance first.

  Then I had a crazy idea.

  “Can you burn the wood around one of these metal bars and get it out?” I pointed to show Blake what I meant. The poles to grab on to while swinging across the monkey bars were metal, but the rest of the structure was wood. If Blake could burn a small amount of wood away that surrounded one of the poles, the metal could come loose.

  “Without the whole structure falling down?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “If I can, what do you plan on doing with it … using it as a sword?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “Unless you have a better idea? Because what we’re doing now isn’t working.”

  He examined a metal bar on the end, running his hands along the edges where it met with the wood. “I should be able to do it,” he said, glancing down at the hound. It jumped in the air and snapped its teeth, only missing us by a foot. “But if the structure falls, run for it.” He took his keys out of his pocket and placed them in my palm, wrapping my fist around them. “I’ll distract it, and you get to the car. Don’t wait for me.”

  “You want me to leave you to deal with that thing alone?” Now I looked at him like he was crazy. “No way.”

  “I can hold it off with my power,” he insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

  The hound walked away before I could respond, not looking back as it disappeared behind the playground.

  “Is it leaving?” I whispered.


  Blake shook his head, his hand ready with his lighter. “I don’t think so.”

  It reappeared in my line of sight, and I realized what it was doing. A few platforms away was another way up the jungle gym—a single log that looked like a large balance beam slanted upwards—and it was heading right towards it.

  Blake must have realized what it was doing too, because he threw another ball of fire towards the hound. The flames hit the tip of its scorpion tail. The fire took only a few seconds to go out, and the hound jumped onto the platform we were on earlier, glaring at us. It backed up to the other end of the bridge and dug its legs into the wood like a bull about to attack.

  I tightened my grip on the edges of the monkey bars. “Get me the metal bar,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady considering that my heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. “Now.”

  He flicked on the lighter, directing the fire towards the wood around the farthest pole. I held on to the sides for support in case it collapsed, keeping watch on the hound. It must have known what we were doing, because it raced across the bridge, gaining speed in preparation to jump.

  Blake yanked the bar out of the wood and handed it to me. My hand wrapped around the metal, and it was like time slowed down. The hound leaped off the platform and soared through the air, all four of its eyes on me. I zeroed in on my target—the spot on its chest where its heart should be—and my mind knew what to do. It was like looking through a high-tech sniper rifle. I could see exactly where to aim, and knew how much force I needed to use and what angle to point the pole to hit the moving target. It felt similar to when I evaluated how to hit a ball in tennis towards a specific spot on the court, only a million times more accurate, like the adrenaline coursing through my veins had set my mind on super-speed.

  I pulled my arm back and sent the pole flying, directing it on a straight, smooth path exactly where I’d intended. It connected with the target, and two high-pitched yelps sounded through the air, followed by a bang as the hound collided with the ground.