Sable Morrow's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Sable Morrow pushed back her sleeve to thread a needle, and her wrist caught the sunlight. A thin line of gold woke under her skin. She saw it too late. One thread of light slipped past the cuff and lay across the back of her hand, bright as a struck match. She wanted to control this light. For now she only wanted to hide it before someone saw. She worked near the front window of the boarding house, where the morning sun fell best for sewing. Ivy framed the glass outside, soft and green. Behind her, two lodgers argued over porridge. Any one of them could turn and look. Sable yanked her sleeve down and pressed her hand flat to the table. The glow pushed against the cloth, faint but warm. She breathed slow. She told the light to sink. It had sunk before, when she stayed calm, when no eyes were near. But her heart was loud now, and the gold only spread. It climbed toward her elbow. The thin grey wool was not enough. In full sun it showed through like a candle behind paper. A chair scraped. Footsteps crossed the floor toward her. Sable grabbed the only cover she had. Around her neck hung an old amulet, a cracked sun in worn gold, picked up years ago for this one purpose. She pulled it out over her collar and let it rest on her chest, where the sun struck it. The metal flared. Bright gold scattered across the table, across her sleeve, across her glowing hand. Now every spark had a harmless source. "Morning," a lodger said behind her. An older woman, reaching past Sable for a spool of thread. The woman squinted at the shine. "That old thing throws a light." "It's just brass," Sable said. She kept her voice flat. "Catches the sun." The woman grunted, took her thread, and moved off. She had not looked twice at Sable's hand. The trick had worked. Sable waited until the room emptied. Then she lifted her sleeve again. Her wrist still glowed, dimmer now but steady. The amulet had saved her this once. But she saw the trap in it. She had leaned on a piece of cracked metal instead of on herself. The light answered no command of hers. It rose with her fear and fell with her calm, and she could not yet choose either. She tucked the amulet away and spread her hand in the sun on purpose. The gold brightened. She made herself watch it, not flinch from it. If she wanted to stop hiding, she had to learn its rules. Tonight, alone, with the door shut, she would try to call the light up on her own. The thought scared her more than any lodger ever had.