Lux [h.s]

fifty-three

There was a spot of blue in the rainbow.

The multitude of colours danced together in circles, a kaleidoscope of designs, laughs and hushed whispers under the artfully painted ceiling of the ballroom. The shades made Cora's head hurt and her balance loosen; she felt as she had when she was trapped between the waves of the raging sea.

Chandeliers of crystal and shattered dreams reflected their light off every precious gem that adorned the rainbow of gowns, off the pearl tiaras on everyone's heads and the jewellery around their neck. It was the triumph of chaos and beauty, a magical vision that seemed to belong in the dreams of a child instead of reality.

But every face was blank, emotionless but for a smile as empty and foolish as the king's virtue. No eyes looked upon Cora's face, as if they didn't believe her to be worthy of their time, or at least of their attention. They kept spinning in circles and circles, some faces covered by masks as colourful as Nature, changing partners quicker than she could follow, each time giving her that fake smile that seemed to be the guest of honour of the party.

The shard of blue was lonely amongst all the other colours, the only one without a companion, the only one everyone seemed to ignore. Cora was drawn to it as if it were seductively whispering her name—she had to see, she had to understand. It was the only thing in the chaos around her that seemed to make somewhat sense.

She pushed through the extravagant dresses, only earning quiet laughs as a reply, mocking little sounds that turned more and more grotesque the more she tried to make her way through the crowd.

The spot of blue was shining like the gems that were dripping from the chandeliers, a multicoloured and expensive rain that bathed all the guests in riches. Cora ran after it faster. It was getting away, and she couldn't let it—she had to keep it by her side, next to her, where she could always find it. She didn't want to ever risk losing it.

She shouted at it, but her scream was swallowed by the mocking laughs all around her.

The guests moved closer and closer to her, and as she pushed through them she finally heard what they were whispering to each other.

Poor, naïve Cora, she has nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Little Cora burnt down a home, now she's wanted for murder.

Cora squeezed past them, and they only laughed harder. Hands gripped her dress and pulled her back.

Cora is burning, haven't you heard?

Her powers make her dangerous. Dangerous. Dangerous.

If she knew—

He won't tell her. Won't. Won't. Won't.

Not until it's too late.

"Stop it!" Cora cried out, and the laughs and whispers got even louder, even more mocking, even darker.

Cora is the wick of a candle and she'll go up in flames like one.

You can't play with fire and expect not to get burnt.

An arm landed on her shoulder and she was pulled into someone.

"You've already lost."

She pulled away from the guest that had grabbed her to whisper into her ear like a slithering snake and scanned the room desperately, trying to find the blue she was so fond of.