The Prophecy of Moonlight

Chapter 2

The sun was beginning to set over the bustling town of Amberwall. At the northern point stood a building made of gray stones. Next to the modest black gate, an engraved plaque was set in the wall. It read Silver Rose Orphanage. Currently, the inhabitants of the building were dining together.

The dining room was lit brightly and held a single long table seated with the orphans. They were eating their usual meager dinner consisting of a bowl of porridge and a glass of water.

However, Lucius, one of the older ones, was grateful for his food. He dug in eagerly, not having eaten for the past two days except for what little the Cook could secretly manage to give him. As usual, he'd been punished by Mrs. Dumitrescu for something that had not been his fault. But, this was normal. Mrs. Dumitrescu hated him and for as long as Lucius had known her, which had been all his life, she had always treated him as though he were an unpleasant object that she had not wanted. Which was true. Lucius knew the story. He'd asked Mrs. Dumitrescu why he didn't have a last name, and she had told him, in the same disdainful tone she talked to him now, that he'd been left on the doorsteps of the orphanage when he was an infant. She would have left him had there not been an attached note stating that she would be paid monthly by an unknown foundation. So, of course, she had kept him.

Currently, Mrs. Dumitrescu's seat was empty. She was in her office talking to some man about some business. Not that Lucius minded. He was glad she wasn't there because her presence always resulted in a reprimanding or some other unpleasant encounter. But, there was still Cole. He was the same age as Lucius and ruled over the orphanage. Mrs. Dumitrescu always favored him. He was a snobby child and enjoyed causing trouble and distress to the younger children.

Like he was doing now.

Having wolfed down his own porridge, he reached over and scooped the porridge of the little boy next to him. "I'll just take some of that," he said, daring the boy to object. The boy didn't. He simply looked down at what was left and, holding back tears, began to slowly eat again.

The table grew quiet as conversations stopped. Only the sound of the Cook and the few servants moving around in the nearby kitchen could be heard.

Lucius was infuriated. It was ordinary for Cole to behave like this, but the little boy had not been here for long and had been starving on the streets before coming here. Cole usually picked on Lucius, but Lucius always bit back. He stood up for himself. And seeing the boy quietly eating what was left, he took pity. He got up with his own bowl and walked over to the boy, everyone's eyes following him.

"Here." He stooped over and spooned most of his own porridge into the boy's dish. The boy looked up at him, the gratefulness clear in his eyes.

Lucius looked over at Cole, who watched him with a sneer. Then, without missing another beat, he tipped the boy's glass over into his bowl.

"Oops. My bad." Cole wasn't looking at the boy. He was watching Lucius to see his reaction.

Lucius didn't know what happened next. He felt anger so intense, it overwhelmed him and caused him to forget his surroundings. He only focused on the sneering face in front of him. He'd been angered by Cole plenty of times, but not like this. This was different. His incensed fury seemed to fuel deep within him, sending power surging through his body. The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a blazing, white aura. He struck his arm out towards Cole, as though pushing him. A pure blast of white light hit Cole straight in the chest and slammed him into the far wall behind him, breaking the cabin of silverware and sending food flying.

Everyone at the table scattered away. They could not believe their eyes and did not dare intervene. Cole struggled to get up, but when he did, he looked at Lucius with fear. But this quickly changed to match Lucius's own anger. In an instant, Cole was shrouded in a black aura.

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, the auras flickered and vanished. Both Lucius and Cole fell, exhausted.

The room was quiet. The orphans and the servants stood, dumbfounded. The Cook had stopped also, her ladle held limp in her hand. With the commotion, no one had noticed Mrs. Dumitrescu standing in the entrance. But now, all eyes turned to her stern form. Her expression was hard to read. Then, noticing the attention, she broke the stillness by stepping into the dining room towards the two boys on the floor. Walking over to Lucius, she grabs him by his dark brown hair and yanks.

"Get up, you urchin!" screeched Mrs. Dumitrescu. She aims a kick at Cole, but he's already up.

Turning to Lucius, she harshly berates him. "Look at the damage you've caused! You've broken the silverware and the food's stained the tablecloth and carpet!"

Lucius was still in shock and couldn't think straight. He could still feel the diminishing power. Looking her in the eyes angrily, he begins to object, "I didn't even start it! You don't know what he did! Not like you would care because you're just a—"

He was cut off as Mrs. Dumitrescu smacked him smartly across the cheek. Lucius refrained from touching it, though he felt the sting badly. He wouldn't show any weakness in front of his inflictor.

"You're a bad, troublesome boy. You've got a heart worse than the devil's. And I think the only way to cure that is punishment. Tonight, you'll be sleeping in the attic and for this week and next, your chores are doubled. Don't bother to finish your meal. Go to the attic. Now!" Mrs. Dumitrescu gave him a rough shove.

Lucius headed towards the stairs, staring straight ahead. He didn't bother saying anything or look at anyone.

Mrs. Dumitrescu addressed the rest of those in the room.

"What are you all dawdling around for? Start cleaning up this mess. You'll get something to eat in the morning."

She took her seat at the head of the disordered table.

"Cook!" she yelled.

The Cook, who had seemed lost in deep thought, startled at the call. "Yes, ma'am?" she asked, in a sweet voice.

"Get me a warm bowl of soup. This one's gone cold."

Cook gingerly walked through the mess, surprising for her plump size. She takes the bowl and heads toward the kitchen. Mrs. Dumitrescu looks at her a bit suspiciously, but at the moment, she was in good spirits.

The time has finally come.