The Party

Strings attached

Jun 14, 2026

Hi Sparks!

I hope you are well.

Quick update on why I’m so erratic…

It’s harvest season here. And in between the busy-ness of being a full-time wife and mother, and trying not to go insane, I’m working on new stuff, so the updating is taking second place.

I will get back to working on unBottled in a week or two, promise, but here’s some story to tide you over in the mean-time.

Missed the last one? | INDEX | Next episode

Since we started having Elle join us for dinner, she seemed more relaxed. She had settled into a predictable routine, was exploring the tab on her own, figuring out how the apps work. She had smiled at Tom and even seemed to be a little more friendly with the staff. She finally seemed to be settling in and maybe letting go of her furious latch onto me.

And it’s all gone now.

“Write it down. The truth!” Luke says, orders, and walks away, leaving me alone in General Morgan’s office. The tone, laced, unmistakably, with enough influence that everyone in the building must not only be aware—but themselves possessed of an irresistible urge to write.

I stare at the blank page before me, frozen in place, heart racing. My palms are sweating so much that it is difficult to grip the pen, and despite the undeniable compulsion to shape the words, I hesitate.

It’s all my fault.

Our party came together so well. Tom handled all the final plans on his own, invitations, special dispensations with the PG, everything, while I kept Elle out of the way. All I had to do was shut my mouth and it would have all worked out.

Elle would have had her evening swim, gone to her rooms to shower and eat her cold dinner, then gone to bed, slept through the whole thing. She wouldn’t have been lonely, she probably wouldn’t even have known we were out of the house, but I had to tell her, didn’t I?

I am an idiot.

The page taunts me while Luke’s order hovers, my hands gripping and releasing the pen over and over as I think of a way to put it into words.

I can’t disobey.

I could.

Luke’s influence is strong, not absolute, and the intensity is clearly a display for the General’s benefit. But if I resist here, it will only put us all in an even more precarious situation. It’s bad, but it’ll be bad either way.

I wipe my hands on muddy jeans, grab the pen again, and take another deep breath. The black lines on the yellow paper seem to dance and mock me.

I write.

“Elle only acted in self-defense.”

My letters scrawl over the entire line. It’s been years since I last touched analogue. I can’t even remember the last thing I had to write out by hand.

“Joel and the others provoked her.”

I scribble, a little smaller, trying to neaten the words, but my conscience is in revolt. This will do irreparable harm to my friend’s reputation, probably kill his career, but Luke ordered the truth.

It was all them. Joel, Ava and Maxine. They taunted Elle, pushed and pushed until she felt cornered. Tom only wanted to put an end to it. But it was Joel who had led the charge.

Within minutes my legs are numb. I’m not sure if it’s from the hard wooden chair or the dissonance between following orders and doing the right thing.

All our sparring matches, all the times I let Joel kick my butt and knock me to the mat, the broken noses and split lips, laughing together—every time he reached down to help me up afterward… He is a good friend. He won’t forgive me. He will see this as a betrayal. I see it as a betrayal.

"Elle wasn’t exactly invited. She just came."

The yellow paper is the same color as the lantern light on Elle’s feet.

As I slowly, indelibly, relate the event, I relive it. My words paint the picture like a waking dream.

I see her. She looks around in utter wonderment. It’s a long walk, and the little lanterns only light the ground, so while her feet are bathed in buttery yellow, her torso is illuminated only by moonlight. The blue spaghetti straps of her dress stand out stark against her almost glowing, milk-white skin.

Joel slaps his rough scaled hand on my shoulder and points with his chin, smirking. “What’s this now, huh? Famous, little Cuz’?” he asks when she gets close, his beer sloshing in the red cup. Elle’s eyes glint, utter confidence, and she rakes him with a haughty stare. That look—that’s why he decided to bait her.

"Ava and Maxine joined in, obviously."

A cramp in my wrist sends the letters scrawling across the lines again. I’ve barely written half the page. I swear under my breath, wishing I could type this out.

I flex my fingers and describe Tom hopping up onto platform for his third attempt at our seemingly impossible little obstacle course. We built it to challenge each other. One-upmanship is the bread and butter of brotherhood—each obstacle designed to be more difficult, more dangerous, than the last.

“Hey, lay off!” I hear his voice in the whine of the air conditioner. He cut off Max and Ava’s teasing from across the yard and every eye turned to him.

The first page is almost full now.

I hold my breath and close my eyes and see Tom step off the solid platform onto the narrow, suspended log. He passes the first two swinging clubs with ease, but even with perfect timing, the log’s long uneven chains make it sway a little more off-balance with every step. He gets tagged by the third club but keeps his feet and just make it past the fourth onto the second platform.

The mook-jong is next. Its multi-leveled spikes rotate in opposite directions, and you have to dodge just right to get past it. Misjudging it is how Ava broke her right arm, an hour ago, but since it’s Tom’s obstacle, he has no trouble.

Around the corner is the mud slick. I positioned the five rocks two meters apart. You have to leap earnestly to reach each one, and with each botched attempt, the slippery mud gets all over them, making it even harder. Tom falls on the third, to raucous laughter and a chorus of applause.

"We thought it'd be fun for Elle to try. No one thought she would be able to make it past the first challenge let alone the next."

She’s going to surprise you, I think, when Elle lets Joel lead her up to the platform. She looks back over her shoulder at me, and I smile encouragement, hoping she won’t get hurt too badly, but when she steps off onto that log, everything about her stance changes.

Three years of pro prize fighting and I’ve never seen movements so lithe and supple.

“Elle finished the course on her first try.”

I write the line in its own paragraph, my neatest yet. As if setting the words apart will relate the magnitude of what she actually did. I trace the curves and edges of the letters and Elle dances along.

I see her walking coolly past the clubs, barely even swaying on the log. She cartwheels past the mook-jong’s arms like they’re standing still, her braid trailing behind her. She leaps like a ballerina, a string of perfect grand jetes, across the mud-slick rocks, her bare feet finding purchase like mag-boots on metal. She flips up the tower like a monkey, and steps across the tightrope like it’s a country lane. Slides down the rock face and skips every second rung on the hanging ladder. She even does a flip going across the rope swing, landing neatly on the balls of both feet as if she were hopping down a single step, not a five-meter drop.

When she looks back and smiles at me, the entire gathering erupts in a sudden ovation. Experienced soldiers struggled to get through the first few challenges, and here this little girl breezes through as if it was nothing.

Thinking about it now, it’s no real surprise they got angry.

"Joel accused her of cheating. It isn’t possible, but Maxine and Ava backed him up. Then Evan joined in. They surrounded her and cut her off from Tom and me. They were already hurt and they’d all been drinking.”

I turn the page and see Elle there, standing just below the last platform, half the crowd still lauding her on her amazing run. Joel and Evan step out of the throng, and Maxine and Ava are not far behind.

“How’d you do it?” Joel demands, his teeth, inches from her face. She looks back at the gauntlet and shrugs smugly, wrinkling her nose, as if to say it wasn’t that hard. Joel is so angry I swear I can smell it even from across the yard.

“She tried to ignore them.” Another line standing alone, just like she did even as the crowd’s mood shifted from awe to outrage.

Elle holds her ground serenely, even though Joel is clearly too close. She waits while the group jeers, angling for a fight, despite their injuries. There’s a bound gash on Joel’s brow, Ava and Maxine both have casts, and Evan’s right knee is bandaged. Elle barely frowns as they scream invective at her, until someone tosses a ball of mud, and another throws their drink. The foaming liquid dribbles down her dress. Only then does she tense up.

"Tom got to Elle first, having somehow clawed his way through. He stood between them to defend her. I think she felt she had to stand up for herself, though, even with him there." I scratch out slowly, trying to steady my shaking hands.

Tom stands between her and them, holding his arms out to keep them apart, begging them to back off, she’s just a little kid. Elle puts her hands on his wrist, shakes her head and fixes him with an earnest stare. Then she pushes Tom back gently with her hand on his chest. Her confident smile only infuriates Joel and his lackeys even more. Joel steps around and bumps Tom out of the way. And then there’s no stopping it. Elle and Joel mirror each other’s steps. The others surround them making a mock arena.

“Joel feinted. She didn’t even flinch. Then he took a shot and all hell broke loose.”

Elle grabs Joel as he takes his first serious shot. Three taps later and he’s down. I’m not even sure where she hit him. Belly, throat, groin? Ava and Maxine double-team. Elle sidesteps Max and breaks her other arm. Ava goes for Elle’s legs, and she slaps her off her feet.

“It all happened so fast. All Elle did was react, she didn’t push the offensive. Then Evan came at her with an energy attack. It was only after HE did, that she started to build power.” I underline he, the wet black ink glinting green on the yellow paper.

The glow starts on her hands and spreads slowly. Then Tom steps up behind her and gets her in a headlock. She is taken completely by surprise and doesn’t even react until it is too late, but Tom’s muscles make quick work of knocking her out.

“We tried talking but no one listened. Tom knocking Elle out was the fastest and surest way to end the conflict.”

I sign the bottom of the four-page statement, then stand, stomping some life back into my legs.

Luke and Tom are waiting for me outside.

Luke is less than pleased. I know tonight’s meeting was important, something to do with his Authority contacts. We didn’t want to disturb him, but whoever called in the General, made sure he arrived in force. Unconscious Elle was left in her room under guard. Tom and I were brought here. We had no choice but to call him.

As Tom and I walk to the shuttle, tails between our legs like a couple of whipped dogs, the sun peeks over the horizon.

The party sounded so wonderful! The way Logan talked about their cyclic celebration made it sound like so much fun. He told me all about the music, games, camaraderie - It wasn’t like that.

I should have known it was a bad idea. I have not seen any people from outside Luke’s house since I woke up. I have started to feel more comfortable around them, but the only one who actually talks to me is my old nurse Molly.

Teag always said Elder beings shouldn’t mix with Lesser ones. Tonight is proof. Those strangers, Logan and Tom’s friends, they taunted me. They messed with Logan and Tom as if they were inferior, filthy Lesser things themselves. They thought they could mess with me too. They were wrong. But then I was too. I just wanted to put them in their place. Then my friends turned on me?

Tom had me by the neck so fast I couldn’t even try to stop him. Now I am locked up in my room under guard and Logan and Tom have left the manor with that General Morgan. Hmfph! Elder or not, his measly energy signature doesn’t feel like any kind of General I know.

I sit on my bed brooding all night. Luke and Logan always told me that I wasn’t a prisoner. They told me I was free to come and go, do whatever I want. But now there are soldiers outside my door. My locked door. It’s not like I killed anyone. All I did was defend myself.

It’s not fair.

* * *

It is morning and Luke is back. He dismisses the guards. I hear him thank them for their night’s vigil and unlock the door. Then he hangs around outside for a long time before he comes in, looking disappointed.

I don’t feel like complying today.

“I know you might have some questions about last night.” he says, “I am not angry. I know they taunted you. I know that Joel attacked first. I am sorry that Thomas had to intervene, but there are rules here that we all have to abide by.”

I stare at the wall as he talks and talks and talks. The short version is: “No fighting.”

I know, no fighting. It was one of the first things Logan talked about with me. No fighting. No raw energy. No violence.

Pacifist.

I thought it would be easy to follow the rules. They said I was safe here. I thought I could make this a new home. That’s what they promised.

I look down and grind my teeth as Luke continues to lecture. He doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care.

After a while, Luke stops talking and just looks at me. He looks at me the same way James looked at me the day they came to fetch me to TTH. The way a Mind Smith looks when he is trying to make First Link. I look back at him and give him a bitter smile. It won’t work. I know what he is trying to do and I won’t let him. No one will ever do that to me again.

Luke lifts Elle’s guard as soon as we get home, dismisses the soldiers as if they’re his own men and lectures Elle for an hour. I don’t listen in. I just wait for her in the gym.

She looks shellshocked, like she hasn’t slept. I don’t get much out of her.

Tom doesn’t seem too worried. He only did what he had to, and if Elle can’t see it, it’s because she is too immature. I spend time thinking about arguing with him about it. It’s easy to forget that for her, just a few weeks ago she was only eight. They are expecting adolescent level reasoning from a kid.

Luke refuses to talk with Tom and me about the fallout. He says he will pull some strings and ‘handle it’ like he the ‘lab accident’. I know he will give us the details when he has them.

It takes a week.

* * *

“We can’t isolate her, Luke!”

I pace the length of the library, feeling the injustice in my bones, while he just sits on the sofa sipping his tea. His calm is nauseating. This was all to be expected.

“They might as well take her and turn her into a weapon. Looks like she’s halfway there already anyway.” I put my empty cup down a little harder than necessary on the coffee table.

“We don’t really have a choice,” Tom says, the summer breeze from the open windows failing to move his short-cropped hair. “She put six soldiers in the hospital, without breaking a sweat. She knocked Joel flat on his back so fast it was funny. Not to mention that Drakisthan friend of his, Evan, who could challenge you as a kid.”

“I know, Tom, I was there-” I sit back down, burying my face in my hands.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Tom asks with an eerie calm to match Luke’s. I grit my teeth staring at him while he monologues. “Did you expect that we’d take her in, adopt her? Rehabilitate her? And by some miracle she’d just come right? Be like every other kid?” He laughs, just a little.

She’s in the gym now, still at it, like she has been all week. Why am I the only one getting worked up over this?

“Don’t be an idiot bro. Any kid with that kind of power, as cut up and bloody as she was when we found her is already a weapon. She’s dangerous. We are lucky that all they demanded was strict probation with regular reports. They could have taken her outright. They could still sanction Luke or us-”

“We knew from the moment we took her in that there were risks.” I cut into his soliloquy. “We knew she had skills and we know she has trauma. But we can get her on a program, like some kind of kid soldier program. Put her in therapy, and get her an education. She’s safe here, we can help her adjust.”

“She is pretty much isolated as is. and it won’t be permanent.” Luke chimes in at last, before Tom can interrupt me again. “We made her part of our family, got the paperwork through while she was sick. Legally, she’s one of us. It’s her first transgression. Since they haven’t taken her yet, they can’t now, not without grounds.”

I stare back at him, like “So?”

“So,” he answers my look. ”So, we don’t give them any. We do as they say, just until we can get some answers. Just until we can be sure she won’t just attack anyone who challenges her.”

After the party I expected everything to change. Luke’s visit made it clear that I caused some big problems. Logan said that I broke some important rules.

Every time I overstepped back home, I suffered. Every transgression was avenged. Here it doesn’t work that way, and I don’t know how to handle it.

Logan is disappointed, but he didn’t even scold me. Even though I caused trouble again. Even though I overstepped again, just like when I kicked him by accident.

I expected justified retribution and punishment, removal of privileges, just like Teag always did, but there is nothing, everything is just normal. I am not sure what to do, but I have to try.

The tab Logan gave me is like a little computer screen, only a little bigger than my two-splayed palms. He showed me how to hold it in my hands and control it by touch, giving me a world of information at my fingertips. There are pictures and videos and long blocks of words in universal so it’s easy to read. Anything I want to know, I just key in the characters and it appears. There is a lot to learn about this planet, about the people who live here.

Logan is kind, I have never met anyone so kind. He still meets me in the gym every morning. He talks and tells me things to make me smile, and shows me things on the tab. He played games with me on his, some of them are fun for a while. Then he shows me how to bring up a notepad that reads what I write. I don’t like it, I don’t know what to write.

I’ve seen Thomas a few times. He doesn’t talk much, only watches, looking sad. They told me why he did what he did. I try not to blame him.

Luke is strong. I can sense the power in him. He may lack the physical power that the Manorians have without trying, but he is determined, and focused. It’s enough to earn my respect, even if he is physically weak.

He brings me building bricks and puzzles and patterns. He doesn’t push me to communicate, only watches as I explore the toys, giving basic instructions, nothing more. As long as I cooperate, he doesn’t look at me in that way. As long as I engage with him, he seems content. But I know he is testing me, always testing.

That’s it for this week! Need more? Too good to wait? Check out the INDEX or continue from about halfway through — here: