THE SPARK #BattleTheBeast

The Spark

Above the Fillorian forest, the amber halo of dawn cleaved the horizon.

Quentin didn't care.

The dank, funky air in Yyll The Gnome's earthen hovel clung to Quentin's clothes and skin like a parasite. The Brakebills gang were practically stacked on each other in the cramped space; Quentin didn't feel safe.

He wanted to vomit and needed to pee.

Scratching an elbow, he glanced at a Rube Goldbergian tabletop setup where Julia cycled through nimble hand gymnastics over a beaker. A green blob billowed inside it. The blob turned into sludge. The gnome darted about Julia, handing her ingredients for his creation. Julia didn't falter.

Quentin's eyes mapped the contours of her face. Last night, they kissed, tongues twisting into a double helix of passion. Afterward, she shoved him and wouldn't discuss the kiss. Quentin could paint the world as black as tar and it wouldn't be dark enough to hide his disillusionment.

He ripped his gaze away, interlocked his fingers, pushed them inward and chanted in Urdu. A yellow energy cube hovered by his nose. It popped. Repulsed, he repeated the hand motions. "We're battle prepping inside an elephant's butt."

He followed Alice's glasses as she adjusted them. Quentin hadn't pinpointed his feelings for her.

"He can't find us here." Alice steepled her fingers, whispered.

A stool near Margo imploded. Margo feigned despair. "Close, but, alas, princess missed."

Alice flipped her palms down. "If you were the target, this conversation would be a monologue."

"You're both belles of the ball." Eliot sniffed a bookshelf plant. It came alive and snapped at his nose. He wiggled his pinkies and it withered. "Let's concentrate on taming The Beast, shall we?"

Suddenly, Penny materialized behind Quentin. Slapped his back, hard.

Quentin's hands whipped to the wetness on his pants. "You moron!"

Margo sniggered.

"Because stupidity wins battles." Alice's thumbs jerked.

Quentin's pants dried. Looking at Penny, Quentin flexed his fingers.

"Stay in your lane." Penny wiped ash from his jeans.

Quentin performed finger movements, ending with flipping both middle fingers at Penny. "How's that recon?"

Penny scoffed. "Can't single out the Traveller he's using to piggyback troops." He kicked dirt off his boots. "He's toying with us."

Julia sauntered to Quentin. "Our plan will work." She created a rhombus against her chest with stiff fingers, extended it outward. The sludge in the beaker turned black.

"Q?" Julia squeezed Quentin's shoulder.

The phantom of yesterday's kiss tickled his lips. "The books say Spark is his kill switch. It'll work."

Alice spied their intimacy, her face unreadable. "Only if we hit him with a combined shot before noon. After that, it fades."

"Twenty minutes," Margo huffed. "No pressure."

Yyll, balancing the black goo beaker on his head, shouted gravelly. "Ready!"

"Modulate your crazy," Penny hissed, gripping the beaker. "This better not taste like your home smells." He gulped the potion. "Or kill me."

Yyll stepped backward.

Penny convulsed.

"Help him!" Alice bolted to Penny's side, gripped his shoulders. Julia complemented her efforts, intoning in Farsi with quick finger dances.