Chapter 4: Spark and Steel
The road back to Mystic Falls felt shorter.
Maybe it was because Landon couldn't stop thinking. About the bunker. About Dean's journal. About the blade now resting in a protective wrap in his bag. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel empty. He felt grounded. Like he had history. A legacy.
When the Salvatore School finally came into view, it didn't feel like just a school anymore.
It felt like a forge.
And he was ready to be reforged.
---
Alaric met them at the front steps. His arms crossed, but his eyes full of questions.
"Well?" he asked.
Hope smiled and gave a nod. "It's real. All of it."
Landon stepped forward and placed Dean's journal in Alaric's hands. "He left it for me."
Alaric flipped through the pages, then looked up. "You're not just part of this world anymore, Landon. You're a bridge between two."
"I know," Landon said. "That's why I want to do more than just train. I want to hunt. Learn the supernatural world outside of the school. Real threats. Real missions."
Alaric studied him. "You'll get there. But first, we test your phoenix abilities again—with this new blade."
Landon nodded. "Let's do it."
---
The training room was quiet except for the hum of enchantments lining the walls. Raf was there this time, leaning casually against a wall, tossing a towel over his shoulder.
"Back from Kansas," he said. "You find Superman's Fortress of Solitude or something?"
"Something like that," Landon said, smiling.
Hope stood beside a magical monitoring device while Alaric adjusted the sparring dummies across the floor. Each one wore thick leather armor and had enchantments to simulate real movement.
Landon stepped into the center, pulling the phoenix blade from its wrap. The weapon hummed faintly, like it was alive. Its metal was dark and smooth, with gold streaks like fire trapped beneath the surface.
Alaric nodded. "We're going to test how it reacts to your energy. Focus on your breathing. Channel the heat, but don't push. Let it come to you."
Landon closed his eyes.
He let his thoughts go. Let the noise fade. He thought of Dean's journal. The note. The rising phoenix symbol.
A soft warmth flickered in his chest—like an ember.
He opened his eyes. The blade glowed in his hand.
Hope gasped quietly. Raf stood straighter.
Alaric's voice was low. "Strike."
Landon moved without thinking.
The first dummy swung its wooden arm toward him, but Landon ducked, stepped in, and slashed across the chest. The blade burned through the armor like butter.
He turned, blocked a second strike with the flat of the sword, then jabbed forward. The dummy collapsed, steaming.
By the time the last dummy approached, Landon rolled beneath its swing, rose smoothly, and slashed through its side. Flames danced across its leather armor for a second before dying out.
Then silence.
Hope broke into a grin. "That was amazing!"
Raf let out a low whistle. "Dude."
Landon stood there, breathing hard, the sword still glowing.
Alaric walked over, nodding with approval. "You didn't just channel fire. You blended instinct with training. That's not just phoenix power—that's hunter focus."
Landon smiled, heart pounding.
"I didn't feel afraid," he said softly. "Not even for a second."
---
After training, Landon sat under one of the oak trees near the courtyard. The air was cool, and the leaves rustled gently above.
Hope sat beside him. "How do you feel?"
He looked up at the sky. "Like I'm becoming… someone. Like I'm not just the weak guy who keeps dying."
She nudged his shoulder. "You were never weak. You just didn't know what you were made of."
He gave her a soft smile. "Thanks for always saying the right thing."
Hope laughed. "No problem. But if you turn into a raging phoenix dragon or something, I'm putting a spell on you."
"Fair."
They sat in silence for a while, watching the clouds. Then Landon turned to her.
"Do you ever think… maybe we're not just students anymore? That maybe we're supposed to be more?"
Hope nodded. "I think you were always meant for more. I'm just glad you're starting to believe it."
---
That night, Landon couldn't sleep.
Not because of nightmares—but because of energy. It crackled under his skin, like a storm waiting to break. He stood in front of his dorm mirror, staring at himself.
His reflection didn't look different.
But he felt different.
Like the old Landon had been replaced by something sharper, stronger—reborn from ashes.
He opened Dean's journal again, flipping to a page marked with a folded corner.
There was a list titled: Signs You're a Hunter in the Making.
1. You want to protect others, even when it's hard.
2. You've seen darkness—and chose to stand in the light.
3. You know pain. You use it.
4. You fight because someone has to.
5. You never give up, even when you're outmatched.
Landon stared at the last line, heart racing.
6. You're part of a family. Even if you never knew them.
He closed the journal and whispered, "I'm not alone anymore."
---
The next morning, Alaric called a school-wide meeting.
"We've had reports," he announced, standing before the students. "Creatures are moving through Virginia—fast and erratic. Something's stirring out there."
Landon felt a chill.
Alaric continued. "Whatever's happening… it feels different. These aren't ordinary threats. Some of these things haven't been seen in decades."
Hope raised a hand. "Any idea what they are?"
Alaric glanced at her. Then at Landon.
"No. But some of them bear markings related to the Phoenix Order—an ancient faction that once hunted immortals."
Landon tensed. "Why would they show up now?"
"That's what we need to find out," Alaric said. "We're organizing a field team. Volunteers only. Landon, I want you to be part of it."
Landon's heart skipped. "Me?"
"You've trained. You've faced death. You've found the Winchester bunker. You're ready."
Hope nudged his shoulder. "Say yes."
Landon swallowed hard. "I'm in."
---
That evening, Landon stood in the Salvatore School courtyard, the blade strapped to his back, a small duffel bag at his feet. Raf and Hope flanked him. A few other older students—Kaleb, MG, Lizzie—stood nearby, prepping gear.
The mission was simple: scout the northern woods of Virginia. Track movement. Avoid direct confrontation. Report back.
But Landon felt it in his bones—this wasn't going to be simple.
As the sun set and the team moved out, Landon whispered to himself:
"This is what I was born for."
And for the first time ever…
He believed it.
---
End of Chapter 4