Lucky Rabbit

Now that Lian was at Falconet, he seemed reluctant to leave, so Augustus invited him to join them for dinner, and sent a message to the Kestrel chancellor to that effect. They ate early that evening, so everyone could get bundled up and head out with their candles as the sun set. After dessert was cleared away, Augustus called the few children remaining at school to him and told them that he had personally contacted each of their families, and gotten permission for them to go out with him if they wanted to.

“And I very much wish to emphasize that this is up to you,” the chancellor said solemnly. “Some of you may wish to remain here at school, where it’s warm and bright.” He smiled at a particularly wide-eyed boy, who relaxed and nodded. “There will be staff-members here to watch over you, as always, so you needn’t be concerned either way. Let your hearts guide you.”

The children quickly fell into excited chatter, with the big-eyed boy joining a trio of students who didn’t want to spend their evening silently wandering in the dark. Thaniel, Abbington, and Isidor all opted to go, of course, and hurried off to change. Lian, Thaniel, and Isidor were back in the foyer just as dusk was deepening into night, but Abbington was nowhere to be seen.

Augustus and several other teachers and servants – including the young woman Pandy was beginning to notice everywhere – counted the students and assigned them to pairs and trios, each with an associated adult. “It’s everyone’s task to watch out for each other on Idomoros,” Augustus told them. “It’s easy to accidentally wander off with another group, or simply take a wrong turn in the dark, so make sure you’re watching out for your friends.”

Some of the children looked a bit nervous at this, but as soon as the chancellor began to hand out candles, their concern changed to subdued excitement. Thaniel reluctantly put Pandy down when he was told he’d need one hand to hold the candle, while the other shielded it from the wind. He was staring back into the dining hall, shifting from foot to foot as everyone finished their preparations, and finally he burst out, “Where’s Bing? He said he wanted to come, too. We can’t leave without him!”

Lian looked nonplussed, but Augustus heard, and paused to smile at the boy. “He’s going to meet us out front. We won’t leave anyone behind, I promise.”

And indeed, when a servant opened the front door for them, there was Abbington, with Brook at his heels, her fuzzy face and half-lidded eyes revealing a very relaxed sort of curiosity about what the humans might be up to. She seemed happy enough to follow along, and Pandy noticed that Abbington’s hand often dropped to stroke her back.

Most of the candles were simple white wax tapers, much like the ones that might decorate the table at a fancy restaurant in Pandy’s world. Abbington had one that looked like it had been made from rolled sheets of honeycomb, and a few of the adults had ones that were different colors or had designs carved into them, though they were all about the same size, presumably so they would last the same amount of time, so long as they didn’t go out.

Once everyone was together, Augustus looked out over the small group. There were as many adults as children, which made Pandy feel a lot better about the children’s safety. In general, the people of this world, or at least this country, seemed like an odd mix of very protective and very confident that their children would be safe even if left unattended. It made sense, given that the children had magic, at least as long as you assumed that the danger was from animals or the environment. Any people with poor intentions would also have magic, and probably more of it, but that just didn’t seem to factor into things.

“Take one more good look at your partners and adults,” Augustus told them, his voice hushed. “From the moment your candle is lit, you’re not supposed to speak except in an emergency, and that’s very important, so make sure you can recognize their clothes and figures even in very little light.” He gestured, and the light gleaming down on them from somewhere above the broad double doors went out.

A few of the children gasped, and Pandy could see Thaniel’s shadowy shape lean into his brother. Then one of the adults summoned a Spark, leaving it hanging in midair so each person could go forward to light their candle from it, cradling that small flame with their hands. Inevitably, one child’s candle went out almost immediately, and she began to cry, but her adult wrapped an arm around her shoulder in silent comfort. No candles could be relit, even one whose time had been so brief.

When only Augustus still held an unlit candle, he said, “We will walk with no goal in mind. We simply want to take in the night – the moon, the stars, the cold air, the stones beneath our feet, the sound of our footsteps, and the small, fleeting flames we hold in our hands.”

The adults nodded, and Pandy could see a few faces that already looked sorrowful, while others held a deep sense of peace. “Think of those you’ve lost,” Augustus went on, his voice low and solemn. “Remember the times you spent together, especially the joyful ones. Think of their smile, what made them laugh, how it felt when they held you. Give all of these to the flame, and let it warm you, as they did.”

Extending his candle into the hovering Spark, he lit the wick, and fell silent. When he began to walk, everyone trailed after him, their footsteps joining the soft sounds of crickets and frogs. Another candle went out, a child sighed in disappointment, and they walked on, down the lane and out through the gate.

It didn’t take long for them to become part of something much larger. Streams of people flooded the streets, all afoot, all holding candles. They came in groups and alone, and one by one, the candles went out, allowing the deepness of night to overtake them. They turned, apparently at random, weaving in and out of other groups, just as people wove in and out of each other’s lives, sometimes leaving only the briefest of impressions, while longer mergings made them recognizable and individual, noticeable in their eventual absence.

Pandy didn’t have a candle, but she found herself caught up in the event anyway. The music from the Idomoros event in Gacha Love played in her mind, and eventually she hopped off to the side just long enough to cast Shifting Faces, falling back in with her group as if she was any other wandering person. The only giveaway that she was different was the lack of a candle in her hand, lit or not.

For the first time since she left her world, she really thought about the people she left behind. None of them lingered long in her life, or touched it deeply, because her luck always found a way to push them away. She had no friends from school or past jobs, no former romantic connections, no family.

What she did have were a few monks who somehow always seemed glad when she went to visit the monastery on her birthday, even though females weren’t allowed past the front gate. There was the woman who made Pandy’s venti steamer with cocoa and extra foam when Pandy could afford to order it. No matter how many times Pandy managed to spill the beverage on herself, another customer, or someone’s four-hundred-dollar purse, the woman made a replacement with a smile, and even spelled Pandy’s name correctly on the cup.

It was probably sad that these were the closest things to real human connection Pandy had had in her old life, but she still wondered if Brother Henepola and Brother Polycarp would miss her when she didn’t visit this year. Would the coffee-shop lady notice when Pandy never showed up to spill her foam on anyone again?

A small gloved hand crept into her own, and Pandy looked down to realize that Thaniel had noticed her. His candle had gone out, so he must have been looking around, rather than at the mesmerizing flame, and now he smiled up at her, making her wish she could lean down and kiss his head. Lian was still engrossed in his own candle, but Pandy was fairly sure he would notice if a stranger started snuggling his brother, so she just gave Thaniel’s hand a squeeze.

They walked on, through wide streets and narrow alleys, always trailing Augustus, whose flame still burned brightly. Night had fallen like a gentle blanket over the city, blocking out the distractions of the day, leaving only thousands of people and their candles and their memories.

They began to pass small groups with only one lit candle remaining among them. In each group, someone handed out paper cubes, and they all used that final candle to light the cubes, which swelled with hot breath, rising into the sky. Some of these lanterns bore pictures, hand-drawn with varying degrees of skill. Others were made of thin, colored paper, or had dried flowers attached to the outside. The streets, and then the sky, filled with glowing lanterns that drifted overhead until Pandy felt like a fish, looking up at the moon through the rippling surface of a stream.

Augustus’s light went out, followed by another, and then there was one, and the chancellor drew them all to the side of the street. Opening his coat, he pulled out little white paper lanterns, which the adults showed the children how to unfold. There were lightweight wires inside to help them hold their shape, and a short, wide candle sat in the bottom, ready to heat the air that would carry them away.

Silently, the third-year girl who held the last remaining candle lit each lamp, and children and adults alike released the glowing paper lanterns into the air. They joined thousands of others that floated there, though some were beginning to drift downward again, their tiny candles already consumed.

When Augustus gave Thaniel his lamp, he handed Pandy one as well, a small smile curving his lips as he acknowledged her presence with a nod. Lian finally noticed her, too, and his brows drew together as he flipped through his mental file folders, trying to find a picture that matched her face. Seeing that both Thaniel and Augustus seemed to know her, however, he let it go with unusual ease, and took his own lantern.

Pandy didn’t feel cold or heat the way she had when she was alive, but she knew the night was chilly because of the way people burrowed down into their coats, withdrawing their fingers into long sleeves if they didn’t have gloves. She felt the loss of Thaniel’s hand when he withdrew it to hold his lantern, however, and she felt the heat of her own lamp as it warmed, the thin paper sides seeming to pulse with the waves of rising hot air.

She released her lantern at the same moment as Thaniel and Augustus, and they watched the trio of glowing yellow lights rise slowly through the air. Even though there was no magic involved, Pandy felt like she’d never before seen something that so clearly captured the essence of the word ‘enchanting’. 

They stood there in the dark, random street, surrounded by friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike, until the last of their lanterns had risen to join the mass drifting overhead. Vaguely, Pandy wondered just how safe this whole thing was, given the combustible nature of buildings, but she supposed that in a world filled with Water and Fire mages, the risk that the city would burn down was probably fairly minimal.

There was a new sense of camaraderie among the group and the people around them as everyone turned and began to make their way home. Where before they had each been engrossed in their own thoughts and their candle-flames, now people smiled at each other, sharing the joy of the beautiful sight and the cool, crisp evening. No words were exchanged, but people held hands, heads leaning on each other’s shoulders, while parents carried exhausted children, and the young gently supported the elderly.

It turned out that Augustus’s path hadn’t been quite as random as it might have been, and they were still close to Falconet, because within half an hour they were back at school, with staff members and a few students bringing them warm tea. Pandy took her Bunny form again just outside the school grounds, and Thaniel picked her up before they climbed the steps, then poured a bit of his own tea into a saucer for her. Abbington did the same for Brook, who simply followed him into the school and laid down next to his feet, as if this was something she did every day.

Lian stayed to drink tea, and Pandy felt his gaze on her as she sat on the table next to Thaniel and lapped at her tea. Usually she had to stay under the table, but Ms. Davenport wasn’t there to be offended by her presence, and Augustus just smiled and gave Pandy a carrot when he saw her, so Lian didn’t say anything either. In fact, he was unusually silent, even for him, taking in the warm, comfortable scene that surrounded them.

At last, however, the children couldn’t hide their yawns any more, and the adults began ushering them to bed. Augustus sent someone to fetch a carriage to take Lian back to Kestrel, and when it pulled around to the front of the school, Lian gave Thaniel a hug, barely even tensing as he felt Pandy squashed between them.

“I hear you’re going Guising tomorrow,” Lian said to his brother as they pulled apart. “There’s a masquerade ball at Kestrel that everyone is expected to attend if they don’t have family commitments, but I’ve informed them I’m busy.” He looked distinctly satisfied at this, reminding Pandy that Killian skipped the ball in Gacha Love, a fact which Edgar actually mentioned he was jealous of. It was a bit insulting to Clara, with whom he was dancing at the time, but it was still early in their romance.

Thaniel lit up, hugging Pandy closer as he grinned at his brother. “You’re coming? Wait’ll you see my costume! I’m Pirate Pete!”

Pandy sighed in relief. She couldn’t be with Thaniel tomorrow night, but he’d be perfectly safe with Lian and Augustus. Right?