The Spark in the Halo — Every day, Seren polished the sunwindow tower from the outer feathers inward, counting each pane while warm glass clicked under her cloth. Read the full story →
Every day, Seren polished the sunwindow tower from the outer feathers inward, counting each pane while warm glass clicked under her cloth. She wanted the dawn to arrive without a single smudge; the stars were fussy, and the flames around the frames smelled faintly of toasted sugar when annoyed. Then one morning, a tiny giggle rang from nowhere. Seren checked the hinges, the tassels, even the solemn moon-shaped sash. Nothing.
Because of that, the sunrise stalled in a pink, embarrassed stripe. Because of that, the tower’s bells began chiming the wrong hour—noon, midnight, snack time—while Seren waited, cloth in hand, refusing to hurry. At last she lifted the halo of hair above her brow and found a violet spark hiding in the one curl nobody ever polished. “Caught you,” she said. The spark sneezed gold dust across every pane, and dawn burst open, clean and laughing, from the outer feathers inward.
