Lumière's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

At dawn Lumière climbed to the attic one last time. He meant to leave that morning and find others like himself. But when he lifted his staff, the orb blazed white across the walls. The stars inside spun too fast to hide. He could not carry a light like this through the hollow. Any hunter would spot it from a mile off. He stopped at the ritual table and set the staff against the pentagram. Candles still burned from the night before. Potion bottles caught the glare and threw it back at him. If he walked outside now, he might as well ring a bell for the hunters. He needed the staff small. He needed it dark. But he did not know a spell to shrink it, and guessing could break the orb. He pulled the old grimoire from its shelf. The leather cover felt heavy in his hands. A pentacle marked the front, ringed with runes he had studied for years. He set the book beside the mortar and turned the brittle pages until he found a binding spell. It promised to fold a large thing into a small one and hold it there. Lumière read the word “Conceal”. Then he gripped the staff and spoke them aloud. He drew the candle flames into the orb, as he had done against the hunter. The only way to make the staff to its former self is to say out loud “Release!” The stars pulled inward. The wood groaned and bent. Light poured off it in waves that filled the whole attic. The glare grew so bright he shut his eyes. He held the words steady and did not stop. Heat rolled up his arms. Then, all at once, the light snapped shut like a fist. He opened his eyes. The staff was gone. In his palm lay a small pendant, cool and dark. It had the shape of a key. At the top sat a tiny marble, and inside it the same galaxy turned, slow and dim now, no brighter than a candle behind cloth. Lumière let out a shaking breath. He looped the pendant on a cord and slid it under his collar. Against his chest it gave off no glow at all. He could walk anywhere now. No hunter would see a boy carrying stars. He closed the grimoire and tucked it into his bag. The book had saved him once already; he would not leave it behind. He snuffed each candle on the table and let the attic go dark. But as he turned for the stairs, he felt the pendant pulse once against his skin. Just once, warm and quick, like a heartbeat. He pressed his hand over it. The marble had dimmed, yes. It had not gone quiet. Whatever he had bound inside was still awake, and it had felt the spell close around it. Lumière opened the door and stepped out into the gray morning. His search had begun. Around his neck, something waited.