Eagle Parrot Revival

After a grueling battle the Eagle Parrot is revived. Daily Flash Fiction Entry.

The Eagle Parrot sat wounded in the hidden cove, her once proud sails torn, her hull cracked and listing from where Drakon soldiers had used her as a barricade. Smoke drifted lazily from the forest behind them, the site of the skirmish where Darius, Elara, Kale, Rockford, and the newly freed crew had barely escaped with their lives.

“She's not seaworthy,” Kale muttered grimly, running a hand along a splintered beam. “Not without weeks of work.”

Darius stood a few paces away, silent. His cloak was soaked, torn at the shoulder, his face pale from both blood loss and what they’d just been through.

“We don’t have weeks,” Elara said, watching Darius carefully. “We don’t even have days.”

“I can fix her,” Darius murmured.

Elara turned. “With what? We don’t have tools. We barely have enough food.”

His fingers curled at his sides. “Not tools. Magic.”

Elara’s eyes narrowed. “Darius...”

“I have to,” he said. “If we stay here, the Drakon will regroup. And next time, they’ll bring more than swords and shackles.”

Before she could protest further, Darius stepped forward, placing his hand against the splintered mast. A low hum began in the air, vibrating through the sand and stone. Light pulsed from his palm; deep blue, flickering like firelight underwater. The ship groaned as wood knitted back together, sails rethreaded, and shattered glass mended.

Darius didn’t stop.

Not when blood began to drip from his nose.

Not when his knees buckled.

Not until the final bolt tightened into place on its own.

Then he collapsed.

Elara caught him before he hit the deck, kneeling beside him as the last of the magic flickered out from his fingertips.

“Stubborn idiot,” she whispered, brushing the hair from his face.

Behind them, Kale squinted at the sky. “We’ve got incoming.”