Page 79 of Poison Sun

As we press forward, the rocky path softens, until it feels like we’re walking on clouds. Trees, ancient and towering, form a canopy above us. Their leaves whisper secrets in a language only they understand, and the birds call out to each other from their branches overhead.

A rabbit scampers across the path, with fur as white as snow and eyes glowing a soft luminescent blue. It pauses, sniffing the air, then bounds off, leaving a trail of shimmering footprints in its wake that disappear seconds later.

“That wasn’t a normal rabbit,” I say to Blaze, simply to break the uncomfortable silence between us.

“Nope,” he agrees. “Never seen anything like it.”

He’s not giving me much to work with here.

“Magic here feels different,” I continue, trying to find something to talk about. “It’s more alive. Like it breathes along with the forest.”

Before he has a chance to respond, the ground rumbles, and the peaceful ambiance of the forest is shattered by a deep growl that sounds as ominous as ever.

We freeze and turn toward the sound.

Out of the shadowy underbrush, a creature emerges.

It’s massive, with fur as black as night and glowing red eyes. Its claws dig into the earth, and its teeth gleam sharply in the dim light.

My heart races as I stare it down, but I don’t move, worried one wrong step will provoke it into barreling toward us.

“Bear,” Blaze whispers, his voice tight with tension.

“Yes,” I mutter. “I see that.”

I brace myself for an attack.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, we stand there, locked in a standoff, none of us daring to make the first move.

There has to be something we can do here. My mind races through every bit of lore and magic I know, searching for a solution that doesn’t end with us being mauled to death. To avoid poking the bear, so to say.

Then, an idea sparks.

“Blaze, the rabbit,” I say, not taking my eyes off the bear. “Use the levitating spell to move a stone in the direction of the rabbit.”

It’s a risky plan, but it’s better than starting an unnecessary fight. After all, we don’t know what sort of crazy powers this bear might have. And, ideally, we won’t have to find out.

Understanding flashes in Blaze’s eyes, and he inches to pick up a stone next to his feet.

With a flick of his penknife, he draws a few drops of his blood. Then, carefully, he writes on the stone, inscribing the word levitas on its surface.

The stone glows briefly, the air around it shimmering with magic. I watch in awe as it lifts off the ground, but also remain aware of the bear the entire time, prepared for anything.

The bear’s eyes follow the stone, mesmerized by the display of magic.

I stay firmly in place. If I so much step on a crunchy leaf, the spell might be broken, and the bear might decide it prefers witch for dinner instead of rabbit.

Finally, with a flick of his wrist, Blaze lets the stone fall to the ground near the bushes where the rabbit disappeared.

The bear pads over to it, sniffing where it landed.

Blaze grabs my hand. “Now,” he says. “Let’s move.”

His touch ignites fire in my veins, and we back away, not wanting to recapture the bear’s attention. My heart races, but when I glance back, the bear isn’t anywhere in sight.

Once we’re a safe distance away, we turn and hurry down the path, putting as much distance between us and the bear as possible. It’s like there’s wind beneath our heels—maybe the forest’s magic—and suddenly, the trees give way to a clearing.

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