.

Lumia 4

A mass of organs that seemed to form a boy leapt onto the stage from an on-stage trapdoor. He preformed a few well-practiced fighting moves then set his hands in front of him. The air around him shimmered and turned lime green. Sparkles flew from his fingers like comets and darted to the far sides of the stadium.

The air stopped shimmering moments later as he held his hands away from him on entire side of his body as if he were trying to free himself from a cardboard box. Strings of sparks started to dance around him and he smiled to himself. He spun and a column of blue flames rose around him.

It vanished moments later and he was gone.

!

Alistair stared glumly out the window of Lost Pebbles Orphanage. The dirt road outside the orphanage wasn’t very interesting, nor eventful. The only mentionable item was the broken shopping cart that lay in a ditch across the street.

The sky was slashed with indigo and gold as the sun peaked out from some faraway mountains. A few glistening stars hung around a couple of night time clouds like bees around a beautiful flower.

He knew he would never get adopted; nobody ever came to the orphanage. It was situated between an abandoned umbrella factory and a store with faded pink walls and a store sign that was so beaten by the weather that nobody knew what it used to be. Other buildings like these lined the one-sided street that may have been bustling with people long ago, but nobody could recall of a time like that.

The orphanage, a market that only sold expired rice, a graveyard, and a flower shop that gave away wilted flowers were the only places still in business…barely.

Alistair sighed at the thought of having grown up in a place so pathetic. His parents had apparently both died in a fire shortly after he was born. So, with no other family members to take him, he was dumped at Lost Pebbles.

Sure, the rest of the orphans were nice, but he wanted something more. He wanted adventure. He wanted excitement. He wanted fun. He didn’t want to be stuck at a crusty old orphanage without leaving. Every day was the same; nothing new, nothing different.

So, every day, Alistair sulked at the window nearest to the door, maybe hoping that a nice young couple would walk past the orphanage, see him, and instantly want to take him home. Of course, he knew that this would never happen. But would it be too much to ask to be someplace where he could be appreciated and loved?

“You’re going to get your eyes burnt off if you keep staring out the window like that,” a nerdy voice squeaked behind him.

Alistair just shrugged and continued to stare blankly out the window. But he suddenly realized that nobody amongst the orphans sounded like that. He turned around quickly, but nobody was there. Slightly confused, Alistair resumed his window-watching, but, as soon as he did, his head started to feel really warm. He found it slightly suspicious for a moment, but then ignored it. That was when plumes of red started to flicker across vision and he felt searing heat on his eyes. The nerdy voice had predicted right; his eyes were burning!

Alistair screamed and ran around the small orphanage, not aware where he was going. He somehow made it outside (maybe one of the other orphans opened the door?) and wobbled around the street unstably.

By now he had gone blind and needed help immediately or else he could die.

Suddenly, a grunt of effort echoed through the morning air. Alistair led himself towards that sound and he ended up in the abandoned umbrella factory (not that he knew this).

“Come,” a soft voice whispered, floating towards him like a soft breeze.

Alistair wobbled towards the voice, but tripped on a dusty umbrella and passed out.

~

A hazed wrapped around his head like a bandanna when he regained consciousness. He couldn’t tell where he was or what was going on but he felt…warm.

“His body…organs. We…if he’ll… Yes, we’ve used magic. Good thing you called t…him. Come…Mastress,” a voice was saying.

Alistair’s eyes shot open and tried to look around, but he only found himself staring at a grey ceiling.

“He’s awake,” the voice from before said.

“See him. I will visit later,” a deeper voice responded.

“Will do, Mastress.”

There were delicate-sounding footsteps that approached Alistair and he felt himself trembling a little. But what was it from? Fear? Anxiety? De did not know but these feelings broke him instantly from the haze.

“You’ll find that you won’t be able to move for a bit.” The speaker was right beside him now. “You have experienced drastic changes to your body from the fire. Here, I’ll prop you up a bit so you can see me.”

He felt warm hands handling his body and his eyes were rested on a woman with silvery skin and jet-black hair. She wore a beautiful dress made of stardust and sun-shaped wings on her back. She seemed to emit an air of peacefulness and calm. She smiled at Alistair and he felt as if he were somehow kissed by life.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she asked.

The boy tried to speak, but he couldn’t move his mouth; he couldn’t feel it either. He couldn’t feel anything! He just felt…there.

“Oh right, sorry. You can’t talk or move. I forgot for a moment there. Don’t worry; you’ll recover eventually.” She rubbed her hands together nervously. “I’m Fowlis.”

~

Alistair sat up in his bed and looked around the room four months later; he had been able to move after his fifth week.

Fowlis had explained shortly after his arrival that he needed to perform magical surgery on him because almost his whole body had been destroyed by a magical fire. His left hand was made of pure bone and the other still had traces of flesh and nails. He had no eyes, but could still see thanks to magic. Most of his legs were made from traces of skin and bone and his organs in his abdomen were visible.

Fowlis had explained that he was kept together by magic. That magic was not her own, but his. She had promised that she would teach him how to use it some day, and that day happened to be today.

As he waited, Alistair looked around at the grey cave walls of his room. They were made of smooth stone that had been carved beautifully into ripples by ancient water. There was a quaint, white stool next to his bed that Fowlis would sit on when they talked, which was almost daily. On the far side of the room was a russet door that seemed like it was made for a castle rather than a cave. It had a beautiful, realistic carving of mermaid in the center with flowing, frizzy hair and an exotic tail fin. She was raising her hands above her as if calling on something.

Alistair liked that carving because she was so strong and fierce. But he had a strong belief that she was gentle on the inside.

The door suddenly opened and Fowlis stepped in gracefully. She gild towards him with as much elegance as a queen and smiled a smile that was brighter than every star combined.

“Today is the big day, isn’t it?” she asked excitedly.

Alistair nodded excitedly. “Yes! Do you really think that I lit my own eyes on fire?”

“Not on purpose, no.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. “Before my eyes burnt, someone warned me of it. They had told me right before it happened. I never found out who it was, but it definitely wasn’t one of the orphans; none of them sounded like that. Fowlis, do you have any idea who it might have been?”

The woman thought about it for a few moments and her face went as pale as snow. She seemed to stare off into the distance as if trying to see back in time.

Alistair reached a bony hand out to her. “Uh, Fowlis?”

She shook her head. “Uh, nope, never mind.” She gestured towards him. “You’ll need to stand up for this.”

Alistair’s feelings about what just happened were suddenly replaced by nervousness; he had never attempted that before.

Sensing his reluctance, Fowlis held out a beautiful hand to him. “Today is a day for big things, isn’t it? Don’t worry about it, Alistair. I’ve got you.”

He stared at her hand. “W-why do I need to stand?

“Magic is easier when upright. Besides, you need to do it eventually.”

Alistair took the woman’s hand shakily and slowly rose to his feet. He shook a little, but he smiled with excitement at being able to actually stand!

“There you go!” Fowlis praised. She released his hand. “Now, we won’t walk. We need to practice standing first.”

Alistair shook a little with excitement. “When will I be able to-“

“Whenever I feel that you’re ready. Ok, we’re going to work on defensive magic today.” She held out her a hand with her palm facing Alistair. “Hold out you hand.”

Alistair obeyed.

For hours, they practiced three basic spells for defensive magic. Alistair was tired after his first shot at a shield, but Fowlis forced him through. She encouraged him to build his mental endurance whenever he wanted to stop. At last, they stopped when he was drifting into sleep on the spot.

Fowlis helped him back into his bed and left after he had fallen asleep.

~

Alistair awoke to voices and his door shutting. By instinct, he sat up and faced the visitor. It was not Fowlis; instead it was a different woman with light brown hair and a star on her forehead.

“Who-who are you?” he asked, his voice shaking as if it were a magnitude nine earthquake.

“I am the Mastress,” she replied calmly. “I am the one who brought you here. Fowlis told me that you heard someone predict your little accident. I would like to know every detail.”

Alistair explained shakily what had happened to him and the Mastress listened calmly.

When he was done, she said, “Have you ever wondered why you are here, Alistair? Have you ever wondered how we found you? What we do?”

He shook his head. He was surprised that he’d never thought about it; he had just been so caught up in Fowlis’s hospitality and generosity to consider it.

The Mastress sat onto the stool and ran her hand through her hair.

“We are Lumia,” she said. “We rescue beings who are trapped in this world, who have been cursed, who are magically gifted, and all that. Many of us have been influenced by magic in some way or are marked. Anyone who fits the qualifications to join us cannot lead normal lives in the world of unmagical beings. You seem to have a gift of magic, Alistair. We realized this probably two days before you--er--you know. But we had been watching you ever since your parents died.”

Alistair’s face paled. “N-no. You’re not saying--“

“No, we are not, we are suggesting and considering. Magical fire is practically impossible to put out. Had it been regular fire, your family would have been saved.”

Alistair shook his head. Had he been responsible for his parents’ deaths? It was unthinkable. He couldn’t have!

“We decided to take you in when we discovered that you were unknowingly creating force fields in your sleep,” the Mastress went on. “Like with every new member, I was going to approach you personally, but you lit your eyes on fire and ran around screaming. I finally was able to call you over while still remaining hidden. Of course, you knew that. So now you know.”

“So what do you do with us? What do you do with all of your recruits?”

“Lumia is an undercover circus. We try to show everyone that magic exists, but nobody except a certain special few get it. We also try to taunt evildoers who think that they can attack us. For that reason, we only show our strongest members.”

“WHAT?! Are you trying to kill me off?!”

The Mastress just remained calm and shook her head. “We place our performers, performers-in-training, and injured each in different locations to avoid threats. All locations are top-secret.”

Alistair no longer felt rage, but felt rather embarrassed for acting like that. “Oh.”

The Mastress got up from the stool. “Is that all, Alistair?”

“Why are you talking to me?”

The woman was taken aback. “Uh, what?”

“I mean, why did you come to talk to me?”

She avoided Alistair’s gaze. “That is information for only me and Fowlis.”

“Did it have something to do with the nerdy voice that predicted my accident?”

“That is disclosed information, boy.” Her voiced was getting enraged now.

“I have the right to know!”

“Alistair!”

“Just tell me!”

“ALISTAIR! We will never tell you even if it were going to save all magic!”

Alistair clenched his fists and rose slowly. “If you don’t tell me,” he muttered darkly, “I’m leaving.”

The Mastress was taken aback for a moment before her face was filled with rage. “Think this through, boy. If you leave Lumia, you become our enemy. We will need to hunt you down and kill you. You are a threat.” She spat the last word as if it were the most vile thing she’d ever eaten.

Alistair looked the Mastress right in the eye. “You can’t stop me, wench.”

He started to march towards the mermaid door. He stumbled his first few steps, but soon gained an angry rhythm.

The Mastress raced forward and gripped his arm. “Where will you go?”

The boy tore his arm free of her grip, opened the door and stormed down the stone hall.

The halls were lined by torches where magical green flames reached towards Alistair as he passed as if they wanted to stop him and make him think rationally. There was nobody in his way, but he wished there were so that he could ram into them or punch them in the throat or something. He wanted to make everyone suffer.

He always went straight when there was a turn, but when he couldn’t, he went left. At last, he found the entrance to the cave, sunlight rushing in as if it were water from a broken dam.

He exited from the cave and found himself in a desert of glistening snow. Everything around him was pure white and seemed to sparkle. The sun was high above him, its bright reaches lighting up small drifts of snow in the distance.

Alistair’s teeth started to chatter as he walked on. He refused to look back because he considered it a sign of weakness.

But he could not help feeling cold. After an hour of walking, he collapsed next to a drift and hugged his knees to his chest.

“Mad, huh?” a voice from on top of the drift said.

Alistair looked up where a figure in black stood, their figure illuminated by the sun. They hopped down from their drift and landed skilfully next to Alistair. Now that he could see them, he noticed that the figure was a tall girl in her late teens. She wore nothing but black except for a purple scarf that hung loosely from her shoulders. Her tanned face was specked with freckles and tiny scars. Miraculously, she did not seemed bothered at all by the cold.

“Ah, don’t worry, they’re phonies anyway,” she continued.

“Tell me about it,” Alistair grumbled.

“I can take you to a place where you belong and you can do practically anything you want. We can make you amazingly strong in ways that the Lumia jokes can’t.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’re honest with you and you’ll be on the same ground as everyone else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ah, just a wonderful place called Xecro.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Oh, definitely.” She stood up. “Want to see some teleportation magic?”

He stood up too. “Sure.”

The girl rubbed her hands together rapidly. “I’m Fig, by the way.”

Suddenly, a cry broke through the snowy desert, “Alistair! Wait!”

Fowlis was sprinting towards them, waving her arms like she was trying to communicate with flag signals.

“You were with her?” Fig asked and Alistair nodded.

“Alistair! Don’t go with her!” Fowlis screamed.

Fig glanced over at Alistair and asked if he was ready to which he nodded.

“Alistair! She’s bad news! She’s-“

Before she could finish, there was a small flash of light and both Alistair and Fig were gone like it was part of some cheap magic trick.

“-a demon.”