Strings of fate: The era of awakening

The smell of freshly cut grass blended with warm earth, mixing with the faint sweetness of roasted nuts drifting from a vendor near the fountain. Nightfall Park unfolded around Linda, a quiet refuge of winding paths, towering oaks, and lazy afternoon light filtering through thick leaves. A gentle breeze carried distant murmurs of conversation, scattered laughter from children, and the steady splash of water from the central fountain, weaving together into a calm, comforting rhythm. For a brief moment, everything felt serene.

Then it didn’t.

Linda let out a quiet sigh, her eyes fixed on her phone, her thumb hovering over the refresh icon. There were no new emails, no job offers, no sudden twists of fate. Only the familiar “We regret to inform you…” rejections, a cluster of spam, and a reminder from her bank about her shrinking balance. A heaviness settled in her chest as disappointment coiled tighter.

No luck.

She stopped herself, recognizing the defeat in that thought.

“No luck… yet.”

She said it under her breath, nodding firmly, as if stubborn optimism alone might coax the universe into answering her wish. Releasing a slow breath, she reached into her bag to pull out her sandwich.

That was when she heard it.

Voices.

“Quick. Shoot it before it flies away.”

Her stomach clenched. That tone was all too familiar, the reckless thrill of causing harm simply because it was possible. Without hesitation, Linda shoved her sandwich back into her bag and sprang to her feet, instinct taking over before logic could intervene. She hurried around a hedge and spotted them.

Three boys, around twelve or thirteen, crouched beneath a tree, their faces glowing with excitement, smooth stones clenched tightly in their hands. One boy drew back his arm, his gaze fixed on a small blue jay perched on a low branch.

Before she could cry out, the stone flew.

Thud.

It struck the bird, sending its fragile body tumbling to the ground. The boys burst into laughter.

Linda’s vision flared red.

Acting on impulse, she scooped up a handful of gravel from the path and flung it at them. A sharp cry rang out as a stone struck the back of the shooter’s head.

“HEY.”

He spun around, eyes blazing.

“What the hell?”

Linda didn’t waver. She grabbed another fistful of pebbles, planting her feet.

“Just giving it a try. Isn’t it fun? Throwing rocks at things smaller than you.”

The boy hesitated.

“Are you crazy, lady?”

“Call the cops,” one of the others blurted.

Linda lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh, please do. Let them remind you that harming wildlife in Nightfall is illegal. I’m sure they’d love to hear how you’re out here attacking defenseless animals.”

That ended it. The boys traded uneasy glances, muttered among themselves, and one finally growled,

“Come on, let’s go.”

Linda waited until they vanished before she released a shaky breath.

Her heartbeat still thundered as she knelt beside the fallen bird.

It was alive.

Small dark eyes blinked weakly, its chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. One wing lay at an awkward angle, but thankfully, it didn’t appear broken. Relief washed through her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, carefully reaching out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The blue jay stayed still.

Taking that as permission, she gently lifted its fragile body into her hands, holding it close as its tiny heart fluttered against her fingers. She returned to her bench and sat, cradling the bird while she checked its wing.

“That was scary, huh. Look, my hands are still shaking.”

She held up her trembling fingers, and the bird blinked at her.

“Truth is…” she murmured, carefully stretching its wing. “I’m not really that brave. I just get angry when people hurt things for no reason.”

The bird remained motionless, as if listening.

“Your wing isn’t broken, just bruised. You’ll be sore for a while, but you’ll be fine. Rest a bit, and then you can fly home.”

The blue jay didn’t stir.

She frowned slightly. Maybe it was someone’s pet.

“Listen,” she said gently, “don’t go back to that place. You weren’t meant to live in a cage. You belong out here, wild and free… just stay away from teenagers.”

She let out a soft chuckle.

The bird blinked slowly.

She pulled her sandwich from her bag, and the bird tilted its head, watching intently.

“Don’t even think about it. Bread’s bad for you.”

The blue jay gave a small chirp.

Linda sighed and dug through her bag.

“Hang on, I think I have something.”

She found a packet of unsalted peanuts.

“Aha.”

She smiled.

“These are better. Might be a little stale, but I don’t think you’ll mind.”

She crushed a few peanuts and scattered them on the bench beside her, close enough for the bird to reach. As she ate her sandwich, she chatted softly, as if they were longtime friends catching up. The blue jay was unusually calm, so much so that she almost believed it belonged to someone.

“It might seem hard at first,” she said kindly, “but you’ll be okay. There are plenty of good trees around here. See that one.”

She pointed across the path.

“That would make a great home.”

The bird turned its head, following her gesture.

“Just avoid the red spruce over there,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper. “An angry squirrel lives there. I swear it hates me.”

The blue jay tilted its head.

“For real,” Linda insisted. “It steals my peanuts and gives me evil stares. Total menace.”

The bird blinked slowly.

Warmth spread through her chest.

“I think I’m gonna call you JJ.”

JJ chirped in response.

“You can visit me if you get hungry. I eat here every day.”

The bird let out a sharp jeer.

She laughed.

The blue jay was far too calm around her, and not merely dazed from the fall. Linda was accustomed to it. Animals always seemed to relax in her presence, as though they sensed something others overlooked. She had always felt more comfortable with them anyway. With animals, everything felt simpler, more honest, easier to grasp. They trusted her.

She glanced down at her gloved hand.

It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.

A soft metallic click drew her attention. She checked her watch, a modest piece with a scratched face and a worn leather strap. It had been a birthday gift from her grandmother, and she treasured it.

“I have to get back to work,” she sighed, standing and brushing off her pants.

"Bye, JJ. Remember—no cages, no teenagers. Wild and free."

JJ ruffled his wings as if agreeing.

Turning away, she headed toward the grand arched entrance of the Nightfall Public Library. Tall windows reflected the sunlight, and elegant stone columns lent the building the presence of an old cathedral. Inside, the familiar scent of aged paper and polished oak welcomed her like an old friend.

Lunchtime always dragged on. Linda settled behind the front desk and opened her sketchbook, letting the pencil glide across the page. The first strokes were gentle and light, and soon, the outline of a familiar little bird began to emerge. A faint smile curved on her lips as she worked.

The calm lasted only briefly before reality crept back in.

I should be thinking about money. Still need another hundred for Grandma’s nursing home payment.

She sighed.

“Quiet, inner self. I have the whole night to stress—let me have this respite.”

And she kept drawing.

The city spread out beneath him, a mosaic of tree-lined avenues, polished buildings, and winding rivers, all washed in the fading glow of dusk. Marcus stood before the towering windows of Fenrir Tower, his sharp gaze fixed on the humans moving below. They scurried through the paved streets.

He sneered.

Vile, cruel creatures.

Humans were parasites. Destroyers. They cage