Leo Moon's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Leo stands at the window, watching people cluster in the street below. Their faces tilt up, murmuring to each other. Someone points toward the wall across from his workshop. He leans closer to the glass, trying to see what they see. A projection sprawls across the brick—massive, luminous, impossible to miss. It shows a figure with multiple arms reaching outward, threads of starlight and shadow weaving through empty space. Leo's breath catches. That's his performance from two weeks ago. The orb is broadcasting it. He steps back from the window, pulse hammering. The crowd is growing, dozens now, some sitting on the cobblestones to watch. A shimmering cloud of color blooms above them, swirling violet and amber like the orb itself has painted the air. He didn't ask for this. He didn't agree to it. Leo grabs his coat and runs down the stairs, bursting onto the street. He needs to stop it, to pull the orb's plug or smash it or something. But when he reaches the edge of the crowd, he freezes. A woman near the front is crying. A man beside her nods slowly, like he's just understood something he couldn't name before. Leo's throat tightens. They're not laughing. They're not dismissing it. They're watching like it matters. He turns back toward his workshop door and spots something on the ground—a tarot card, golden and ornate, the number five gleaming in the lamplight. Someone left it there deliberately, placed at the threshold like an offering. Leo picks it up, hand shaking. The projection fades as the orb's light dims, and the crowd begins to scatter, still murmuring. He clutches the card and climbs the stairs. The orb sits on his workbench, quiet now. He doesn't smash it. He sets the card beside it and leaves them both where they are.