Xarcus Ulmas's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Xarcus Ulmas needed one star. His tall hat carried silver and gold stars stitched in rows, but one spot near the brim sat empty. To fill it, he had to find the hidden star in the sky and chart the path to it. His cracked orb was how he read the heavens. Tonight, high in his broken stone tower, the orb had failed him. He raised his staff toward the window. The glass on top flickered weak purple, then dimmed. Snow blew past the fractured wall. Above the clouds waited the sign he must follow, but the orb showed him nothing. No starlight. No map. Just gray. His pet, a small blue dragon, curled on the sill. It huffed a thin flame at the orb, hoping to wake it. The light sputtered and died again. Xarcus lowered the staff. His old hands shook. "Do you know why old glass forgets its fire?" he asked the dragon. The dragon blinked and said nothing. It never did. Boots scraped the stairs below. A man climbed into the tower without knocking. He wore a sharp red coat, and his breath steamed gold in the cold air. His amber eyes caught the dying purple glow. He was the moneylender who had once loaned Xarcus a season of grain, and who still counted every debt. Rook Bane looked at the orb and smiled. "That light's nearly gone, old man," he said. "But I know the spell that rekindles it. Learned it years back. I never forget a thing worth money." Xarcus studied him. "And what does a dying man's light cost these days?" "Not coin." Rook stepped closer. His eyes did not blink. "A favor. One I'll name later, when it suits me." Xarcus knew the danger. A debt with no set price was a rope with no end. But without the orb, the hidden star stayed hidden, and the empty spot on his hat stayed empty. He had chased that star his whole long life. "Would a wise man trade a certain darkness," Xarcus asked, "for an uncertain chain?" Rook only held out his hand. Xarcus set the staff between them. The dragon growled low. Rook pressed one gold-steaming palm to the cracked glass and spoke three words Xarcus did not know. Heat rushed through the orb. The purple flared bright, then steadied into clean white fire. Light spilled up through the window and cut the clouds. For the first time in years, Xarcus saw starlight bend and point across the dark. He gripped the staff. The path lay open now. Rook stepped back, still smiling. "The light's yours," he said. "And so is the favor. I'll come collect. Wherever that star leads you, old man, I'll know the way to find you." He turned and went down the stairs. Xarcus stood in the new white glow, star-path clear above him, and a nameless debt now stitched to his back.