Four small words. That was all it took to set things in motion.

The words came from an upstairs room filled with the rustle of paper and the sweet stink of medicine. They came from the pen of an old man who coughed and wheezed with every breath. They came at the end of a very important letter, which said this:

To: The Lightbender

Care of: Circus Mirandus

I need to speak to you urgently. I hope you remember me even though it’s been many years since I was called to Circus Mirandus. Of course I have never forgotten you. My name is Ephraim Tuttle, and we met during the war, when I was a boy.

You promised me a miracle.

I don’t know how I will get this message to you. I haven’t heard even a whisper about the circus since I was a much younger man. But you made a promise, and I have believed through all these years that if I had need of you, you would come.

Here, the old man paused. He read over what he had written. His pen glinted in the yellow lamplight as he added the final line.

I need you now.

And at that moment, thousands of miles away in the tent of the Man Who Bends Light, a messenger woke up.