Jewel Brandt's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Jewel Brandt pressed her brush to the tower wall and got nothing but a dry scrape. She stepped back and looked up. Ten stories of grime and dead neon rose above her, and she meant to paint every foot of it. She wanted the mural to glow so bright the whole city of Sapbleed would see it from the streets below. She had planned this for months. Now her last can of neon paint sputtered out in her hand. She shook the can. Empty. The three others at her feet were empty too. Without fresh paint, the wall would stay a smear of dull pink where she'd started. The one place that sold neon pigment had closed weeks ago. She had checked. She had asked everyone quiet enough to answer a quiet girl. A whir came from behind a rusted pipe. Inker Wells rolled out, its round white head tilted, yellow eyes glowing. The little robot had followed Jewel for a season now, always hunting ink and paint to bring her. It held up a cracked jar of blue. "Found this by the old lamp," Inker said, cheerful. "Half full. Maybe less. Maybe more if I shake it right." Jewel took the jar. The blue was thick and old, but it still glowed faintly in her palm. "It's not enough for a wall," she said. "I need gallons." Inker's chest screen flashed a small frown, then a grin. "Then follow me. I found something better than a jar." The robot led her past the tower's base and through a gap in a fence. Jewel stopped. Ahead stood a cluster of trees, but not real ones. Their trunks glowed like poured glass. Their branches burned pink, green, and blue, a canopy of living light. She had heard stories of a glowing grove and never believed them. "The sap," Inker said. It tapped a trunk. A bead of bright liquid welled up, humming with color. "It glows on its own. I tested a drop. It sticks like paint and never dies." Jewel dipped her brush into the bead. She swept it across a stone. The line blazed, brighter than any can she had ever bought. Her breath caught. This was better than paint. This would glow forever. She pulled an empty can from her bag and held it under the trunk. The sap dripped slow, one drop at a time. She filled the can halfway before the flow stopped. Then the trunk went dark where she had cut it. A low crack ran up the bark. Around the grove, other trees flickered, as if warning her. Jewel capped the can. She had her paint now, brighter than she dreamed. But the grove had gone dim in a wide circle, and something deep in the trees began to hum louder. Whatever lived in that light had noticed her.