Dayane's Arc

Chapter 1 of 29

Dayane wanted the whole sky, and she had thirty seconds to prove she could take it. She stood at the edge of a floating stone in Syan, a small girl with curly brown hair and a flowy dress that snapped in the wind. Below her, nothing. Above her, a spinning knot of colored spirals pulled apart at the center like a door coming loose. If she reached it, the stories said, she could grant her own wishes. All of them. Forever. The spiral had opened once before and closed on a boy's arm. Dayane had watched it happen. She knew the risk and jumped anyway. Wind tore at her dress. She missed the spiral's center by an inch and caught only the outer curl. Her fingers slipped. She fell. "No," she said. Not a scream. A decision. A gray bird dove past her, sleek feathers flat against the fall. It had followed her all morning, quick and watchful, landing near her wherever she went. Now it clamped its small feet in her curls and beat its wings hard. It could not lift her. But it slowed her enough to think. Dayane grabbed the bird's idea, not the bird. Will, the stories said. The spiral answered will, not muscle. She stopped clawing at the air. She closed her eyes and pictured exactly what she wanted, the way you picture a face you love. She wanted to stop falling. She wanted the sky to hold her. The spiral heard her. Color rushed up from below and wrapped her like water. The fall reversed. Dayane rose, slow, then fast, back through the loosening knot. The bird let go and flew beside her, screeching, thrilled. She laughed so hard her ribs hurt. At the center of the spiral she found a small dark orb, round and black, ringed with faint blue light. It swallowed the color around it. When she touched it, it did not burn. It listened. "Show me," Dayane said. The orb opened. Out spilled a field of tiny drifting planets, then a scatter of bright stars, then a single bloom made of galaxies, its petals full of cold light. They hung in the air around her, waiting. Each one felt like a wish already half-granted. Dayane understood then. The orb did not give her things. It gave her the power to want them into being. Her will was the key, and the key had turned. She reached out and closed her hand around the black orb. It shrank to fit her palm and went warm. "Mine now," she said. The floating stones of Syan spread out beneath her, endless. She had the tool of every wish, and no one to tell her what to wish for first. That was the new problem, and it was a wonderful one. Dayane grinned, gripped the orb tighter, and began to choose.