Chapter 11: The Red-Tipped Canary

Skylar

Iliana didn’t seem to give a toss about how much she was torturing me right now. It was the first time I’d been completely floored without actually losing my temper.

I had to hand it to her; she’d worked her magic on me perfectly.

Michael was still propped up against the bookshelf, watching me with that amber glint in his eyes. It made Iven—the wolf inside my head—scratch at the walls of my mind, practically begging me to play nice.

Iliana stepped closer. Her long fingers started dancing through the air, leaving a trail of glowing blue runes behind. I wanted to back away, but my feet felt like they were bolted to the floor.

"Steady, Skylar," Iliana murmured. "This might sting a bit."

She pressed her palm right over the back of my hand, where that mysterious sigil sat. Instantly, a searing heat shot up my arm and straight into my chest. My eyes went wide, and I tried to scream, but my lips were glued shut.

"Interesting," Iliana whispered. Her sharp eyes narrowed, like she was reading lines of binary code etched under my skin.

"Is she alright, Professor Rowland? She looks like she’s in pain," Michael asked, his voice sounding a bit rough.

Ugh, I didn't need his pity. And why did he have to see me like this? I’d probably be the joke of the week for him and his little werewolf fan club.

"Headmaster, the issue isn't a lack of talent," Iliana said, turning to Fischer. "The issue is the magical war raging inside her body."

Fischer sat up straighter. "Explain."

"The sigil on her hand is restrictive. It’s an ancient seal," Iliana explained, her eyes still scanning my energy. "Meanwhile, her werewolf side is an entity that craves freedom. That power wants to explode outward, but the sigil is shoving it back down. That’s what caused the volatile energy blast yesterday."

She pulled her hand away and gave me a cold look. "You’re an unstable Conduit, Skylar. If you don’t learn to sync your emotions with your power, you won't just hurt others. You’ll literally tear yourself apart."

My heart sank into my stomach. My aunt Eva—my father’s trusted witch—had never mentioned this. This was brand new info, and it made my skin crawl. Aunt Eva had planted a mantra to stop me from using magic after I’d hurt Mum. She still hadn’t figured out how to control the magic coming from this sigil.

But Iliana? She saw right through it.

"She needs specialist training," Iliana continued. "I suggest she takes Sentient-Sync classes twice a week. She has to manage her emotions to stop the friction between the sigil and her wolf."

Fischer nodded slowly. "Agreed. Do what’s necessary, Professor."

With a flick of Iliana’s hand, the pressure in the air vanished. My jaw finally went slack. I coughed, desperately gulping in the fresh air.

"I don't need counseling," I spat, even though my voice was still a bit croaky.

"You’ll go, or you’re expelled from Equilibrium for the safety of the other students," Fischer snapped. "And to help stabilise your emotions, you’re to follow the instructions in the letter you got yesterday. You need a familiar."

I glanced at Michael. He looked smug, like he enjoyed seeing me cornered.

"I’d suggest a bird," Fischer said casually. "They have a frequency that’s calming for Conduit energy. And since you can’t be trusted on your own yet, Michael—as the Alpha of the werewolf students—will escort you."

"What? No way!" I protested. "I can go by myself."

"It wasn't a request, Skylar," Fischer cut me off. "Michael is responsible for your safety because he’s the Alpha. Get to the Tiny Breed Market now. Buy the bird before I change my mind and chuck you in isolation."

I stormed out of the tower, making sure my boots hit the stone floor with a satisfying thud.

Michael trailed behind me, his pace steady but his aura so dominant it made the hair on my neck stand up.

"Stop hovering like a shadow," I grumbled without looking back.

"I’ve got a job to do, Skylar. Don't make it harder than it has to be," he replied flatly.

We reached the front gates just as Gils came sprinting toward us, his messy brown hair flying in the wind. He looked way too excited, which really clashed with my 'world-is-ending' vibe.

"Oi! Where are you lot off to?" Gils asked, out of breath.

"Buying a bird at the Tiny Breed Market," I answered quickly. Then, I had a brainwave. "Gils, you’re coming. I need someone with actual taste, not just someone who knows how to growl."

Gils beamed. "The market? Brilliant! I know the best pet shop there—Whispering Talons. They’ve got some proper rare stuff."

Michael frowned. "This isn't a field trip, Gils. It’s a security detail."

"C'mon, Mike. More eyes on Skylar makes it safer, right?" Gils grinned, totally unfazed by Michael’s death stare.

"Don't call me that. We aren't mates, Dragon."

"Ignore him, Gils. He’s just a misery guts if you let him get to you."

I didn’t give Michael a chance to speak for the rest of the trek. If he asked anything, I just gave him a shrug or a nod. Eventually, he shut up. Small wins.

I headed straight for the teleportation point. Michael let out a low growl but followed us anyway.

According to the map I’d been given, the Tiny Breed Market was a hidden district only accessible to those with magical blood.

The place was loud, smelling of weird spices, animal hides, and ammonia. We navigated narrow alleys lined with shops that had moving signs. Gils led us to a tiny, wonky shop in the corner: Whispering Talons.

The second we walked in, we were hit by a wall of chirps, hisses, and growls. An old bloke with a bandage over one eye popped out from behind a stack of gold cages.

"What're you after? Baby dragon? Winged cat?" he rasped.

"The Headmaster suggested a bird," I said, looking around.

The shopkeeper snorted. "Oh, Gerald Fischer. Haven't seen him send a student to buy a pet directly in ages." He looked me up and down, rubbed his chin, and beckoned me to follow.

He stopped at a row of low shelves filled with yellow canaries that wouldn't stop shrieking. Michael stepped forward, pointing at the quietest one. "Take that one. It won't cause trouble."

I nearly agreed just to get out of there, but then Iven suddenly whimpered in my head. She was drawn to something in the darkest corner of the shop.

I walked past the fancy cages and stopped in front of a rusty old iron one.

Inside was a canary, but it was... different. It was bright yellow, but the tips of every single feather were a deep, dark red, like they’d been dipped in blood or fire.

It didn't sing. It just sat there, watching me with tiny, piercing black eyes.

\[The red-tipped canary. I like her, Skylar. She’s quiet, and she can help us.\]

Maybe I’d actually listen to Iven this time. I liked the silence.

"Ah, that one," the shopkeeper said, looking annoyed. "Odd bird. Nobody wants her. She can't sing, and some witches think the colour is bad luck. I was going to bin her tomorrow."

"Iven likes her," I whispered to myself.

There was something about the bird’s stillness that matched the chaos in my own chest.

"I'll take this one," I said firmly.

"Skylar, it’s a dud," Michael cut in, stepping closer. "Pick the one Fischer would want. No one’s even willing to buy that thing."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, and I'm the one buying it. How much, Sir?"

The shopkeeper looked relieved to be rid of it. "Just take it. Call it a gift for clearing out my rubbish."

I picked up the cage. The bird hopped toward the bars nearest to me. She stayed silent, but her eyes never left mine.

"Let’s go," I told Michael and Gils.

As we stepped out of the shop, I could feel the energy coming off the bird. It wasn't a boring sort of calm. It was the calm in the middle of a storm.

Just like me, she was something beautiful that the rest of the world thought was broken.

"She seems to like you, Skylar," Gils said, poking a finger toward the cage.

"We’re going to get along just fine."

"What are you calling her?"

"Gigi. Thoughts?"

"Yeah, sounds good, that."

Maybe starting a new life with a 'jinxed' pet was the perfect move for the most problematic girl at Equilibrium.