CENSORED 5: NICK

Yes. So close. Come on.

I’m so nervous what Ainsley will do when she makes it through the line I keep spilling my scrambled eggs from my spoon.

That’s a good girl. Just a little more.

Elaina tugs on one of my curls to get my attention, but I can’t look away.

Put it right where I want it.

Ainsley sits down next to Grady on the left, one seat over from me.

YES! Oh my dark. That feels so good.

My diabolical plan has worked. I lean toward Elaina and give her a big sloppy egg kiss right on the mouth to celebrate this win. Everyone giggles, especially her.

We might not have cracked these two yet, but forming a bond amongst themselves will help them. I just know it.

“How long does it take to know if we sparkle?” comes the voice of a fiery redhead across the table from us.

I immediately liked Bryson. They’re a spitfire and even slapped me yesterday. Twice.

“It usually takes a few days, but it’s different for everyone,” Elaina tinks.

“Once you wake up—” I stop myself short. “After you’ve woken your spark, you’ll see it around you, like outside of you.”

“We’ll all see it,” Elaina chimes encouragingly. “It’ll be like floating particles in front of you.”

“Through the week, you’ll notice the spark you see begins to fade from view, but it isn’t really fading. It’s being absorbed by your body. It’s saturating.”

“Or it’s shedding around you like dead skin,” Ainsley adds unhelpfully.

The charges all gasp, Elaina tings a sigh, and I fly on. “As you’re saturating, you’ll be weighed daily on the Spark Scale.”

“What’s my size got to do with anything?” someone snaps defensively.

“Your spark will be weighed,” I course-correct. “They’ll draw some blood and place it on the scale. The blood will pull toward the corresponding spark element inside it, shifting the scale.”

Elaina takes the throttle. “Once you can’t see the spark dust surrounding you anymore, you’re fully saturated. Your spark will be weighed one final time at your Saturation Ceremony to see if you’ve ignited a spark.”

“What happens if the scale doesn’t shift?”

“Most everyone will see some scale movement on day one,” Elaina plinks. “Some charges will even see movement to more than one spark.”

“How many can you have?”

“Well, you technically could have all four after the Spark Ceremony,” I tailslide, “but you’ll likely see it balance one way or another as the week progresses.”

“Has anyone ever had more than one ignited spark at the point of saturation?” Fiona clinks.

I upthrust so wide my cheeks hurt. Of all of them, she asks the best questions.

“Yes, but spare spark ignition is uncommon,” I sputter, “and it’s rarely more than two.”

“Has anyone ever successfully tamed spare sparks?” she clanks.

“No,” Elaina says carefully. “It creates an imbalance.”

“Everything requires balance,” I course-confirm. “It’s what maintains our stability, security, and safety.”

My heart soars with compassion for these charges. We must’ve gotten the best passengers by a landslide. By majority, they’re curious, and I love nothing more than jetting deep into a curious mind.

I look around the Oculus to the other groups. None of them seem to be talking much. Luke’s charges are one table over, and he’s dutifully told them to shut up, loudly, at least four times since we sat down. He didn’t want this responsibility, but as he’s still working through probation for some unfortunate events that transpired after his Polarity Ceremony, participation was forced.

Luke is…passionate. He’s totally committed to S.W.O.R.D. and only sees one path forward for himself. He’s already registered with the Fighting Sect. While he’s just a Dorm Guard, once he graduates he can become a Ward or Registry Guard, then Order Guard, and finally join the Royal Guard. His trajectory went a little funky at his Schism Ceremony when his ex pushed him toward the light instead of the dark, but even that didn’t break him the way it did when she chose to become a water wielder. As a water wielder himself, it formed a solid land mass between them. He didn’t handle it well, launching an ice shard into Docent DarkFire’s lady bits over it. I mean, it was better than having launched one into Esha’s heart which is what she did to him.

I look over to Elaina. When she looks back at me, there’s so much love there I can barely contain the balloon of my heart. Her chime tubes are the only ones I ever want to clapper the dickens out of.

“Have you ever sent someone home by mistake?” Fiona redirects my attention. “Like they sparkled, but the scales were wrong?”

“The scales are never wrong,” the guy next to her replies cockily.

Ugh, Pritchett. I immediately disliked him. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate his devotion, but it’s very clear he has his whole life with S.W.O.R.D. planned out whether his spark ignites or not. He’s fully registered already, and his tuition for all four years has been paid. He’s an Orderman’s son. While that means I have to be careful how I board him, it doesn’t in any way mean I have to like the little piss ant. His general aura of authority makes me want to punch him in his smug face. Also, on a more related note to my healing efforts, it means he doesn’t need us at all, unlike our other charges who are struggling with a whole host of conflicting emotions about the ceremony.

Thankfully, the spark gives zero cares about nature, meaning punks like Pritchett can’t be carefully bred into sparkling. Genetics has no relevance. If anything, the tests and trials to that effect have served only to reduce spark ignition. Elaina and I are still holding out hope nurture might be a factor.

Wealth does have a surrounding impact though. If you sparkle, every possible door otherwise closed to you based on prior social class suddenly opens up like there was never a door there to begin with. For you. For your family. It means instantaneous ascent to an extravagant life. Not even just a comfortable one. A first class fancy one with people to do every menial thing you could ever imagine. So, while they can’t buy it into existence, the wealthy still manage to control the spark by controlling those who sparkle.

Fiona squinches her brow. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s…” I whitetrail.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Elaina finishes for me.

“Uncomfortable how?” someone asks, fear bleeding into their tone.

“It feels like every bone in your body is broken into a thousand tiny pieces, then knitted back together with a dull needle and razor floss,” Ainsley accurizes.

Everyone turns to gape at her.

Unlike Grady, who gets terribly embarrassed for her and slinks into his seat, Ainsley just shrugs at the attention. That freaking shrug. She’s unleashed a terror tornado and is casually looking around to see who it might sweep up.

That girl. Oh my dark, that girl is the perfect chip. Not so big it cuts the insides of your mouth. Not so small you only have to chomp on it twice before swallowing. She’s a gloriously perfect chip, and I’m going to crunch her blaster so hard she’ll be forced to melt in the mouth of my support services.

“It’s not entirely painless,” Elaina admits, “but it’s not that bad.”

Bless her beautiful heart, Elaina can’t handle the looks of horror on the faces of our charges. We promised not to lie to them though, so I’m not about to build a moat of distrust before even getting their drawbridges down.

“You won’t die,” I add helpfully, “but you might want to for a few minutes.”

There’s a hurricane of whispers followed by silverware clunking onto trays. Guess we’re all done eating.

“So, you’re ready to head to the Spark Chamber?” I ask brightly.

Ainsley stands first, walking with purpose to the trash bins, emptying her tray, and placing it on top. She hangfires by the door, clearly annoyed she’s having to wait.

“Should’ve gotten the tour,” I tut, coming to stand beside her.

Guess what she does. She shrugs. I blast a laugh, slap my arm around her shoulder, and guide her back out the doors we came through toward the Registry.