Carved from Darkness

Taurus

SYNOPSIS: The masquerade. The magic. And the one behind it all.

This one's a bit of a strange story.

~#~

The crow's feathers shimmered with mighty iridescence as Lucas sent it flying from his wrist. He scoffed at its wobbling glide, watching its wings brush against a tough gathering of thorns. "Come on. You can do better."

Despite its ungraceful departure, Lucas knew that the bird would return to his windowsill that night, as it had done every night before. It was a nuisance.

"Let me help you get ready for the ball," said his sister, Geraldine, who had decided upon staying at home to help Mother and Father at the farm. Lucas was of age, at sixteen, but a shiver trickled down his back nonetheless.

"Why?" Lucas asked.

Geraldine frowned, her light pink lips matching her pinched cheeks. "It's not every day people like us get to attend masquerades, and it's not every day I get to make someone look pretty."

Lucas wasn't so sure about placing his appearance in the hands of a thirteen-year-old girl, but he had no other choice. "You're not allowed to use the scissors, Geraldine."

"Mama won't let me," said Geraldine. She brought a wooden tray about her flat, stiff dress; the tray had been chopped from a dumped crate, shattered unevenly with an axe. Sharp splinters bent Geraldine's fingertips and pierced a droplet of blood into her skin, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Look!" She held the tray out, displaying a navy blue mask that twinkled with glitter and sloped around the mouth like one half of yin and yang. "Father gave me this."

A starburst of strange desire exploded somewhere within. "What's the box for?"

Geraldine removed the mask from its tray, and Lucas pried it from her sticky hands. She shook the box from side to side as if panning for treasure. At once, dyed feathers the color of plums peeked their smooth tips from behind the crevices of the tray.

"I get to help decorate." Geraldine looked up at him with a sweet, modest smile stretching dimples into her cheeks. It was the luck of family that adorned both Geraldine and Lucas with such spots.

Lucas held the mask up to his face, pressing the cool material to his skin. "Do your worst, little sister."

-----

The ball had exploded essential party elements (and then some) over a wealthy merchant's flourishing mansion that evening. Lucas bent his back in a submissive bow at its grand entrance towards a man who wore draping weapons over a dark green coat.

"Good evening, sir," Lucas said, holding his invitation out in front of him.

The man snatched the parchment from his fingertips and tucked it somewhere behind his back. "Enjoy your night."

Lucas felt a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips as his shoes crashed against the smooth marble in the lobby. An opportunity only reached once in a hard-working adult's life had somehow crawled between Lucas' immature, slacking hands, but he wasn't about to retort.

A wrinkled cloth brushed against his shoulder. When he turned, he was faced with a girl, a girl of dark skin and flowing fabric and beauty. Her shattered green eyes, smooth curls, hazelnut freckles. . . . They weaved a hazy sort of love into Lucas' heart.

The girl smiled, her mask lifting with her cheeks. "Hello. A young one, yes?"

Lucas nodded, lifting a hand to press his midnight blue mask to his forehead.