Young Writers Society

“Ah, fresh air!” Lucian sighed, flopping onto the grass. The nights seemed to be getting darker and darker, but the air was just as cool and perfect as before. He bumped shoulders with the Duke of Dronian as he stared, starry-eyed, at the obsolete sky. It was a blessing that he was able to sneak out again.

“Sit down, Soleil,” Lucian begged. The Duke sighed and sat down on his knees. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Incredibly dark,” Lucian murmured, “but I’m still glad to be here.”

“What are you talking about?” Soleil asked. “Starstalkers are supposed to be allowed wherever they please at night.”

“Not me.” Lucian looked up at the blank sky. A single star was glowing through the fog, twinkling magically, as if speaking to him. He could almost hear its voice. Gentle, majestic. Unsure what to say. Lucian, it spoke. Are you alright? Most of his colleagues stopped hearing those voices eventually. Tuned them out. But they still clung to him, faded, distant. Good thing he didn’t mind at all. Reaching out his hand, he twisted his fingers back and forth, as his tutor had first taught him. “Come here,” he asked. “I will bring you back. I promise.”

“Did you say something, Lucian?” Soleil asked. Lucian couldn’t hear him. The voices were overpowering, stomping in a pattern similar to thunder. He reached farther as a small lightning bolt struck him. He glowed, the slightest bit, and in his hand was a small orb of light.

“So much power,” Lucian murmured. “And responsibility. How can my father not trust me on my own? I’m an adult!”

“A young one,” Soleil told him gently. “I’m sure if you told your father all you wanted to do is settle down as king, he would be less of a cosseter.”

“Cosseter!” Lucian sneered. “That’s what I called him. But you know what? He’s a blind, old tortoise. Can’t even see that I’m perfectly capable. Of everything.” He threw the orb up, watching as another bolt of lightning caught the orb and retreated back to the sky. “He was fine with me becoming a Starstalker. Surely I’ll be alright without him.”

“But how are you going to prove it?” Lucian turned his head toward Soleil and smiled. “I won't have to. I’ll just leave.”

“To where?” Lucian shrugged. “The next country, I suppose. They’ll be happy to have an experienced Starstalker with them. They’ll have more light than they’ll know what to do with.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

“‘Course not,” Lucian chuckled, standing up. “I’ll need to pack my things.”

Lucian ran off into the night, calling his tiny orb back to him for a light source on the way. But he didn’t need it. The castle had erupted with the blue light. Flames were reaching past the clouds. Lucian stopped in his tracks. “No, no, no!” he growled. “Lansie!”

Rushing up the stairs, he slammed the door open to Lansie’s bedroom. “Lansie! Lansie!” he sobbed. She was nowhere to be found. Her bedcovers were charred. Curtains transformed into a small pile of ash. And her stuffed bunny… He grasped the remains tightly for but a moment. The key. He bolted to the library. “Lansie?”

Silence.

“Lucian?” He scrambled to the broom closet. There his sister was, lying in a ball on the ground. Poor kid… She had no escape from the fire around her. A man shoved passed him with a sloshing bucket. The fire was put out quickly.

“Lansie,” he murmured, lifting her into his arms. “Are you alright? Burnt? Hung-”

“I’m,” she began, coughing, “f-fine. My bunny wasn’t burnt, was she?” Lucian allowed himself to laugh. “Let’s get you in bed. Soldiers have already put out some of the fire.” Lansie didn’t attempt to look up at him. Instead, she tugged his shirt as firmly as she could. “Water…”

Lansie put up a fuss at the bed covers she was being tucked into. Her legs were out, her vest taken off. Her lady-in-waiting began to fuss over her, fanning her and helping her drink.

“Get her some soup,” Lucian ordered. The lady-in-waiting furrowed her eyebrow. Meek little maid. Shouldn’t get to question me. But he sensed that she was right on this one. “Maybe a cold…cheese…platter?” The lady in waiting curtsied and left for the kitchen. “Lucian…” Lansie whispered. “Yes?”

“Roll up my pants…” Please don’t be hurt. Please, please… He gasped. Her left leg was completely burned. The skin had turned bright red, black covering parts of it like a spiderweb, stinking and smelling. “Ow!” she squeaked as he gently put his hand on it.

“Get all of the ice you can from the cellar,” Lucian told the maid when she got back. “But we’re low on-”

“NOW!”

Lansie curled up into a ball. “Lucian? Have you seen my leg?” Lucian nodded. “I’m feeling dizzy.” Lucian’s sister drifted into a shaky sleep, mumbling between breaths with ‘stop!’, and ‘no!’ It took all of the prince’s might not to shake her awake from her bad dream. And it took even more strength to not yell at his father for not even checking on her.

“Your majesty!” the maid sounded. She dropped the heavy metal bucket beside the bed, wiping the sweat off of her brow. “Could you sit her up? Put her feet into the water?”

“Of course, Am-,”

“Abigail.”

Lucian tugged gently on his sister’s shoulder. “Lansie,” he whispered. “Get up.”

“Mmmmmm…” Lansie murmured. “Up!” Lucian pushed her onto her tailbone and smiled at her exasperated sigh. “Ohh,” she hissed. “That feels good.”

“Good enough not to need a doctor?” Lucian asked. Lansie’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes! No doctor. Don’t need one.”

“Lansie,” the maid whispered, pressing her hand onto the girl’s forehead. “You have a fever and a leg that’s about to fall off. There’s nothing else we can do except call a doctor.”

“NO!” She bent over and grabbed her leg. “He’s going to cut it off. You’re all the ones who need doctors. Doctors that can cure you of hysterical ideas!” The prince wrapped a blanket around his little sister. “I’ll get Father,” he quickly told the maid. “And find a different cheese. She hates Pepper Jack.”

“Lucian!” Lansie cried, grabbing his arm. He bent down and held her hands. “Yes, little Lansie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Lansie balled her hands up into fists. “Everything.”