Chapter 1

 

Serah stood on a porch. Her foot tapped a floor plank wrapped in roots and weeds. A doorplate swung from the cottage door, hung diagonally to the side by a rusted nail. Serah examined her fingertips before brushing nettles from her dress, a sheath patched with sackcloth and rags. Twisting her head to the side, she pressed a finger to an empty nail hole and slid the plate upward.

She half-breathed, half-read the words at the top of the plate: “Master Machin.” Additional titles beneath the name appeared and reappeared faster than she could sound them out. Apolune Archivist blinked and faded, followed by Celestial Mechanic and Tektite Glazier.

“I’ve never seen occupations like these.” Serah took a long look at the door, then knocked.

A light flickered above the doorplate.

Serah stepped backward and blinked. The light shone through glass so dark she hadn’t realized the door had a window. “Hello?” she called out. She pressed her ear to the door. Certain she hadn’t missed a voice or footsteps, she knocked again.

The light above the doorplate flickered and burned out.

“Well, if I’m not wanted, Master Machin, Mister—” Serah glanced at the doorplate to borrow one of the haughty titles for her rant. But they were no longer there. The titles and the master’s name had disappeared. “But I just saw—”

Frowning, Serah tilted the plate to take a closer look. New words formed across the brass:

What is your name?

She coughed. “Serah Kettel.” Glancing up at the glass—still dark—she added, “I’m here for the interview.”

Serah, do come in.

Breathless, she placed a hand on the doorknob and twisted. The plate swung freely as she pushed the door open and peered into darkness.

Before her eyes could adjust, they were dazzled by row after row of lanterns hung from the ceiling and walls. Lanterns that surpassed the height of grandfather clocks. Lanterns that could be swallowed by the palm of a hand. Their bulbs—spherical, cubical, and teardrops of glass—were all rimmed in dark metals.

Serah’s stomach flip-flopped. “Hello?” she croaked, provoking a stir in the shadows.

An old man sitting at a table looked up and raised his hands. As he lowered his palms, the lanterns’ glow dimmed. A wrinkling above his chin stretched into a smile. “Serah Kettel,” he said.

The girl opened and closed her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Kettel.” The man placed a finger to his lips, then grasped at a pair of goggles that covered the greater part of his face. He bent forward. “Serah Kettel.”

“Sir?”

With a flick of his wrist, the lanterns brightened again. Objects in the room that were previously indistinguishable appeared beneath the light, as did the dust. Serah fought the itchiness that wrinkled her nose.

Gears and pieces of glass covered the table where the man sat. Steam rose from pots and kettles on a nearby stove.

“Please address me as Machin,” said the man. He stood from the table. Through an archway at the opposite end of the room, a whooshing sound roared from a furnace. Flames inside it swelled to life. “Ah, right on time,” Machin murmured. “Follow me, Serah Kettel.”

She followed with timid footsteps as Machin hobbled to the furnace. Orange flame reflected off her face, warming her cheeks and nose. Machin wrapped a hand in a leather glove and reached into a bucket next to the furnace. He pulled out the largest set of cooking tongs she’d ever seen. Wedged between the ends of the tongs was a smooth, round object. The material was black and shiny.

“What kind of stone is it?” Before she could get a better look, Machin thrust the tongs and all into the mouth of the furnace.

“Not a stone, but a special form of tektite,” he said. “Or as I like to call it, Celestial Glass.”

Serah glanced up at the lanterns hanging from the ceiling and pointed. “Will it become one of those?”

Machin smiled. “Eventually.”

Serah nodded, pleased her interview seemed to be going well. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She’d had a vague understanding of Machin’s lamp making. He was better known for his work in the mechanical sciences. Young men and women from every corner of Havenbrim, a village in Llum, sought to be his apprentice. But Machin took in only one apprentice at a time.

With Machin focused on the furnace, the room grew warmer and quieter.

Serah’s eyes glistened. “What is it that your apprentices do?”

“Tend the lanterns. They’ll need to be shined and polished.”

Solemnly, Serah bobbed her head toward a footstool set against the wall. The lanterns were the only items in the cottage that weren’t covered in dust. “Is that all?”

“And let me know if any of them burn out.” He pulled the tongs from the furnace.

Serah blinked. The dark material glowed orange. Machin brought the tongs close to his lips and blew across the glow. As the object cooled, it changed from orange to a clear shade of crystal.

“So it really is glass,” Serah murmured. “Celestial Glass.”

“Look more closely. Tell me what you see.”

“Well, it’s round and smooth, like the end of a bulb.” She stuck out a finger.

With a flick of the tongs, the object flew into the air. Serah pulled her finger away.

Glass clinked against metal. Machin caught the bulb before it hit the floor.

“Go on,” he said. “What do you see when you look at it this way?”

Serah peered closer. “Well, now it’s hollow like a fishbowl.” She looked up at Machin. “There’s an opening on this end. Why?”

“Because, Serah Kettel, without an opening, there wouldn’t be a way to enter—to fill the bulb with light.”

“Light.” A flickering from the lanterns above caught her attention. “I see. This will be part of one of your lanterns, then.”

Machin neither nodded nor shrugged. Carefully, he set the bulb on a shelf with the closed end on top. He dipped the tongs inside the bucket again and pulled out another chunk of stone that was not a stone and shoved it inside the furnace. Flames rose and licked the edges of the object, heating it to a deep orange glow.

Light, thought Serah. She considered the lanterns. All were lit, but none held candles or flame. Her gaze passed back and forth between the furnace and the lanterns filled with white light. “Master Machin, where do you get the light for the insides of the lanterns?”

“That, dear Serah Kettel, is something that will be revealed to my apprentice.”

She bit her tongue, worried she’d asked too much, sadly remembering that she was not his apprentice, at least not yet. She muffled a sigh. If I don’t get this position, I’m ruined. I couldn’t go back, even if there was something to go back to. She wrapped her arms around her middle and waited, hoping she’d come up with something impressive to say to erase her mistake—something that would help Machin choose her as his next apprentice.

Once the bulb he was working on cooled, he set it on the shelf next to the first. This one, however, was more angular in shape, with edges like a cube set on its side. That will make a beautiful lantern, Serah thought.

Machin turned around and pointed the tongs at the shelf. “Which of the two bulbs do you prefer, Serah Kettel?”

She rubbed her chin. I wonder if this is a test. What do I say? If I choose the wrong one, will he turn me away?

“It’s not a difficult question, child. There is no wrong answer. I’m merely asking for an opinion, your preference.”

The flesh on Serah’s back and arms crawled with a spidery, tingly feeling. “May I take a closer look?”

Machin shrugged and stepped out of her way. The clink of metal hitting metal rang from somewhere behind her. She guessed he’d dropped the tongs back inside the bucket. Flame from the furnace reflected off the glass objects before her, both crystal clear and hollow. Though she found the diamond-shaped bulb more pleasing to look at, there was something about the round bulb—the first of the two Machin had pulled from the furnace. Her knees shook.

Serah pointed a finger at the round bulb.

“Are you sure?” Machin called from behind her.

She stepped forward. Her knees knocked together. Yes. No. I don’t know.

“Yes?”

The tip of her finger kissed the glass.

The bulb filled with smoke. A blue spark formed in its center, and then stretched to a finger-sized lightning bolt that crackled and reached out to her. When it zapped her finger, she fell back.

Serah stared at the ceiling, her finger still pointing—not to the lanterns, but to the round bulb on the shelf.

She lifted her head. Her mouth opened wide in horror. The bulb was empty, as if she’d imagined everything.

Warmth surrounded her outstretched hand and pointed finger. Large eyes blinked down at her from behind goggles.

“Serah Kettel,” Machin said, pulling her to her feet. “You must go now. If you wish to accept the position, return here in two weeks’ time.”