Time has a way of softening fear. Even fear of giants like HelixCorp. Weeks passed without an attack. The drones vanished, or at least stayed high enough that Elias could no longer sense their hum. The villagers began to breathe again, to laugh again. Even the spirits, once dimmed by the tension, brightened and resumed their playful dances above the rooftops.
Hope returned — not suddenly, but like moss growing slowly over a fallen tree. But if danger did not come from the sky, it would come from the forest. In the strangest form imaginable.
When he arrived the air shifted
It was almost sundown. The sky was streaked with violet-orange, the lantern-fruits glowing on the pathway as people made their way home. I had just finished helping Elias calibrate an irrigation machine when Lyra came sprinting toward me, breathless.
"Dad—there's—someone—at—the—southern—gate!"
Before I could ask what she meant, a scream echoed from the perimeter. Zara, Mara, and three rangers rushed past us. I grabbed Lyra's wrist and followed. Orion trailed behind, clutching Amu as if the world depended on their clasped hands.
We arrived just in time to see him step out of the shadows. A young man — or something pretending to be one. His eyes glowed a shade of copper that no human had ever naturally possessed. His hair was tousled and dark, his expression somewhere between mischief and exhaustion, like he'd been running from trouble and flirting with it simultaneously.
But that wasn't the strange part. The strange part was how his shadow behaved. It lagged behind him by a full heartbeat. It stretched too far, like it didn't fully understand the concept of "flat." And at one point, while he wasn't looking, his shadow scratched the back of its own head.
Lyra whispered, "…What the hell?"
Orion whispered back, "That's not how shadows work."
The newcomer stopped at the gate, lifted both hands, and said cheerfully: "Hi! Before you decide to stab me, shoot me, or set me on fire, I'd like to clarify that I'm only here because a tree yelled at me." A beat of stunned silence.
Zara blinked. "A tree… yelled… at you?"
"Yes," he said, nodding enthusiastically. "Quite rudely, too." his shadow nodded a moment later.
Mara stepped forward, arms crossed. "Name?"
"Jinx!"
He said it with the joy of a man announcing a surprise party.
"Jinx what?" I asked.
"That's it. Just Jinx." He grinned. "The forest named me. I would've preferred something more dramatic, like Shadowstrike McDangerface, but apparently you don't get to negotiate."
"Where are you from?" Mara asked sharply.
His smile faltered. "I'm… not sure."
Orion tugged gently at my sleeve. "Dad… he feels weird."
"Psychic weird?"
"No. Like… the forest weird."
Before any of us could react, Jinx dissolved. Not died. Not vanished. He melted. His skin rippled like water disturbed by a pebble. His bones seemed to rearrange. His entire form collapsed into swirling black mist, then reassembled behind Mara, where he tapped her shoulder. She spun with a dagger drawn.
Jinx raised both hands again. "Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit. I shift when I'm nervous."
"Shift?" Lyra echoed.
He nodded. "Into… whatever the forest needs me to be." And then he turned into a fox, right in front of us. A sleek, night-colored fox with copper eyes and a shadow that moved half a second late.
Lyra gasped. "Okay that's actually cool."
Orion stepped back. "Dad… his shadow is looking at me."
And it was. The fox shifted back into human form, shrugging. "Don't mind him. He's… independent."
Mara studied him silently, eyes narrowed, weighing threat against potential. "Why did you come here?" she asked.
Jinx's smile faded completely now. "Because the trees told me you're being watched."
Jinx's arrival shook the village, but after Mara determined he was not a threat (or at least not intentionally one), life continued. People assumed if HelixCorp were coming, they would have come already. "Maybe they lost interest," villagers whispered during evening meals. "Maybe the drones were just scouting." "Maybe the corporation has bigger problems."
Even I wanted to believe it.But Jinx didn't. He perched on rooftops, trees, the occasional spirit, always listening to something I couldn't hear. "The forest murmurs," he said one day. "And the roots remember everything. They say danger doesn't disappear. It crouches."
I didn't know what to make of him. But the children adored him. Especially Orion. Which led to the disaster that awakened Orion's new ability.
It happened as they were training. Sanyu was teaching focus exercises. Mara was observing. Jinx was lounging in a tree above them, humming to a bird only he could hear.
Orion sat cross-legged with Amu, trying to visualize his mind as a calm room. He was doing pretty well — better than usual. Then Jinx decided to… help.
He dropped a small seedless overripe avocado on Orion's head. Orion yelped, lost concentration, and in a burst of startled psychic energy created something. Abird. Sort of. It was vaguely pigeon-shaped, glowing, translucent and extremely panicked.
"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"
The spirit-bird flew upward at full speed, then circled the class in chaotic spirals. Every time Orion panicked, the bird panicked harder.
"MAKE IT STOP!" Lyra screamed, ducking as the creature did kamikaze dives overhead.
"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" Orion cried back, clutching his head.
The bird smacked into a training post, exploded into harmless sparks, then reformed immediately — angrier this time.
Jinx applauded. "Beautiful manifestation! Terrible choice of temperament. But beautiful!" Even Sanyu ducked as the bird dive-bombed her.
"Orion," she said calmly, voice strained. "Please breathe."
"I CAN'T BREATHE WHEN IT'S SCREAMING AT ME!"
"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"
Zara had tears in her eyes from laughing. Elias fell off the bench. Lyra threatened to incinerate the bird, but it passed through her fire harmlessly. Finally, Mara placed a hand on Orion's shoulder. "Let it go," she said softly. "Not with fear. With intention."
He squeezed his eyes shut. Took a breath and whispered, "Stop." the bird froze mid-air, blinked, and dissolved into a quiet shimmer. Orion collapsed into my arms, exhausted. Lyra threw her head back. "That was AMAZING!"
Zara nodded. "Terrifying, but amazing."
Jinx wiped a tear dramatically. "My influence grows."
I glared at him. "Don't encourage him."
"Oh, I will absolutely encourage him," Jinx said, grinning. "He just created a spirit form out of pure thought. That makes him the most dangerous thing in this village. Congratulations!"
Orion squeaked. "I don't want to be dangerous!"
"Then don't manifest pigeons," Lyra said. "Manifest something cool. Like a lion."
Orion blushed. "I… I could try."
I suddenly made a mental note to childproof the entire village.
In the weeks that followed, Orion practiced his new ability under close supervision (and far from fragile objects). He started small, a glowing squirrel that tripped Jinx on purpose, a tiny floating turtle that made Elias scream like a child, a cat-shaped wisp that followed Lyra around and judged her decision
Each manifestation was temporary, fragmenting into light once Orion dismissed them. But his control grew quickly, faster than any of us expected. Jinx became his self-appointed mentor, and the villagers, reassured by the laughter and training and quiet days, started believing they were safe.
But Jinx didn't smile as easily as before. He perched in the Spirit Grove, eyes sharp, listening to things beneath the earth. One evening, he said something that chilled me deeper than any threat.
"The danger isn't coming," he whispered.
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jinx turned those copper eyes on me. "It's almost here." his shadow nodded slowly behind him. And the forest held its breath.