The Prophecy of Moonlight

Chapter 3

The attic was dim, only lit by the light of the full moon. Cobwebs lay in the corners and on the odd, long-forgotten objects in the room. There was broken furniture and an old wardrobe whose glass panes were covered in layers of dust. There were boxes with peculiar trinkets and other items from previous inhabitants dating decades before.

Lucius had gotten two blankets and found a spot relatively devoid of the cluster. It was small, and Lucius did his best to make himself comfortable. Laying down, he closed his eyes and thought. He could still feel faint remnants of the power that had overtaken him.

There's no way I did that. But he knew that it had happened. Even Cole had experienced it. He felt shock and disbelief as he replayed the past moments. And he was also slightly scared. Because he had a sense that it had been magic. And magic was fiercely banned. It wasn't supposed to exist.

What if I'm turned in into the authorities? But, no. I didn't intentionally do it. Whatever it was that I did. He dismissed the notion. There's nothing special about me. I'm an orphan with no parents or last name. I don't even know where I'm from.

Despite this, he was a little excited. He had felt so powerful and exhilarated. The energy had surged through him, making him feel as though he could do anything. But, he hadn't been in control. All of it had been on impulse.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a quiet knock on the attic trapdoor.

"Lucius! Are you still awake?" came the Cook's whisper.

Lucius came over and raised the hatch. Cook stood precariously on the ladder, still in her uniform. She held a steaming bowl of delicious smelling soup in her hand.

"Thought you might be hungry," said Cook, smiling kindly and sympathetically.

Lucius felt a surge of gratitude and appreciation. Cook was always there when he needed her. She cared for all the children, going out of her way making sure they were fine. She treated Lucius especially well because she sympathized when Mrs. Dumitrescu pounced on him unfairly.

"Thank God for you, Cook! What would I do without you?" Lucius took the soup and set it on the floor.

"Oh, I bet you'd find your way around somehow. I'd best be leaving now. Sorry I can't stay." She began to carefully make her descent.

"Thank you," called down Lucius, quietly.

"Not a problem. You'll need it," she said, with a sad, peculiar smile.

When she had gone, Lucius carefully closed the trapdoor and began to eat his soup. With a full stomach, he went over to his makeshift bed, made himself as comfortable as possible, and quickly fell asleep due to his exhaustion.

Lucius awoke suddenly. There was loud commotion everywhere and someone was shaking him.

"Lucius, get up! Quick!" It was the Cook. Her voice sounded frantic. Lucius groggily got up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"We have to leave! There's no time to explain. Just do as I say," she said firmly.

It was midnight and by the moonlight, Lucius could see the urgency in the Cook's face.

"Alright. But what's happening?" he asked. His senses became aware of the sound of boots inside the building. A lot of boots.

"They've come for you. We must leave. Now!" The Cook hurried him towards the old wardrobe.

Lucius felt numb and confused. He had no idea what was happening. But the Cook's manner quickly made him realize that something was terribly wrong and it concerned him.