Lumina Brightglade's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Lumina folded her list of grave-marks into her satchel and set out before the dew dried. The nearest sheltering glade waited beyond a low rise, hidden behind a curtain of fog. She carried the crystal book against her chest and an old black key wrapped in living vines at her hip. The key had belonged to her grandmother, and its flowers still bloomed. She reached the spot her map named, but found no gate. Only mist, and a patch of moss that did not move when the wind passed. Lumina knelt and pressed the vined key to the moss. "I am not a stranger," she said. "I carry the old ways." The moss split open like a slow mouth. A tall shape rose from it, black cloth and drifting purple wisps, soft at the edges and cold at the center. It had no face. It bent toward her without sound, and the air went thin. Lumina did not move. She held the key higher, so the small flowers brushed the hem of the shadow. "Read me," she whispered. "Read what I carry." The wisp drifted closer. Tiny lights inside it pulsed once, twice, matching the slow heartbeat she had seen in the graveyard stones. Two small clouds drifted down through the mist then, shaped like pale kittens, pink and lavender. They circled her shoulders and purred against the shadow's hem. The guardian paused. Whatever the clouds were, they knew her, and the wisp seemed to weigh that knowing. Slowly, the shadow parted down its middle like a torn veil. Behind it stood a tower of bright glass, wrapped in vines and small flowers, its shelves glowing with colored books. The hidden glade had opened. Lumina stepped through, the key warm in her hand, and the mist closed behind her. She was inside now, and the guardian had not let her pass freely. It had let her pass marked.