A face with missing eyes.

A face with no nose.

Eight glowing eyes staring through me, teeth chattering with no lips to hide them.

“Mira… Mira look at me.”

Lumo placed a finger on my chin, gently shifting my gaze from the horrible faces over his shoulder to stare into his mask, my face only a breath away from his rose blushed lips. His golden mask of snakes and chains, tiny flower petals ornately framing his face, eyes completely hidden under the embellishments, was dazzling at this distance, but I dare not look for too long. No, the closeness was unbearable.

One of my hands was in his, holding tighter than I probably should, and the other lightly resting on his shoulder. He pulled his hand away from my chin and rested it again gently on my waist, sending a cascade of shivers through my frame.

We were swirling, turning and spinning to the sound of our own feet. I let myself fall into the familiar rhythm - Mother insisted I knew how to properly dance, so the dancing itself was not the hard part. Every so often, my head would turn, only slightly, and my eyes would catch a shadow, screaming shadows. But if I chose not to look at the distorted ghasts, I was faced with the horror of Lumo’s unforgivingly sharp jawline.

Even though I protested at first to Lumo’s offering to dance, he made a compelling case. To the memories, they were stuck in an eternal ball, dancing merrily with each other for eternity. Standing at the door staring - screaming even in my case, would cause quite the stir. But to dance in tandem, we would surely fit in, or at least be ignored long enough to make it through the giant hall.

But now, as I nervously looked back and forth between eyeless shadows over Lumo’s shoulder and Lumo’s face, I couldn’t help but wonder if I made the right decision. Every step, every unsure glance, was yet another opportunity to embarrass myself. By this point, I knew my face was probably quite red, showing in plain sight my unquelled nerves. But as much as I was unhinged within my own anxiety, there was a place deep inside the hollow of my stomach that longed to be even closer to him. Every time his finger touched my chin, even when matched with a teasing smile, I wished for it to stay there just a bit longer on my face.

My eyes met with yet another horrid face at his shoulder and I couldn’t help but jump, stumbling slightly in our swirling steps.

“Mira,” Lumo said in a low chuckle, a steady hand guiding me in a fluid spin, “Why is it so hard to not look at them?”

“Because the alternative is also quite difficult,” I spat in a shaking mutter, much to my own horror. I was half-tempted to throw a hand over my mouth, in shock over my own words.

“Oh?” Lumo said, amused, “Am I just as horrible as them?”

“No,” I stuttered, searching for the right words, “I just… I wish I could see your face.”

I was once again surprised by the words that came out of my mouth. It was true though - my curiosity over what lay beneath his golden mask had grown maddening over the last couple of days.

“Mira…” Lumo said, his voice lower and softer than usual. His playful smile turned to a hesitant, bitten lip as he looked upwards, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then tell me, what am I asking?” I said, finding my courage now that his attention was not solely on me.

“The mask makes it so that… Gods, how can I explain this right,” Lumo sighed. “I… I wish I could take it off. I wish I could show you. But I can’t. At least not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“No.. I… Never mind,” he laughed, shaking his head, “For now, let’s just enjoy this horrible moment together. You’ll have to make due with my ghastly chin for a bit. No more mask talk, okay?”

“Understood - no more mask talk,” I smiled, looking to where his eyes would be for as long as I could manage. But when I felt my face begin to redden again, I couldn’t help but look down to his chest, but it wasn’t any better.

I heard him laugh again, and sighed. There was no escaping this.

“Here, close your eyes,” Lumo said.

He then lightly placed my head to his chest, and my legs all but gave up underneath me. I was grateful to Mother that the dancing steps I took were muscle memory but this was too much. My heart beat so loud in my ears, and I felt a familiar heaviness gather in my throat.

Mira, if you start crying right now, I will never forgive you.

I bit the side of my mouth so hard that I felt the familiar copper taste of blood.

Mira, you ruin this moment… I swear…

“Can I confess something?” Lumo asked, our steps slowing into a slow waltz.

I could only nod, the cotton of his shirt warm with the heat of his chest beneath my ear. His terrible collarbone hitting my cheek sent an involuntary shiver through me that I begged he did not notice.

“I’m actually quite afraid of you,” Lumo laughed.

I pulled away from the sickly comfort of his warmth with a sudden surprise.

“Afraid?”

“Well,” he smiled, looking away to re-adjust his hand on mine, “As a blood mage, you can destroy me completely with only a snap of your fingers… If you wished.”

My mouth opened just slightly. I was not expecting that.

“Why would I…” I stammered.

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just saying… It would be especially easy for you. I am made of magic, and only magic,” he mused. “I mean, it’s terrifying, but exciting.”

I shook my head, bewildered at the prospect.

Exciting?

“Sorry - Probably a bit dark of me to mention that... It’s just been on my mind. But I trust that you won’t kill me - unless I really deserve it,” he smiled. “That was a wink just now, just so you know.”

“Right... A wink,” I sighed.

“It’s an interesting prospect though - with a single breath, I could be in your lungs. I could be -”

“Lumo - please.”

Lumo looked down, smile fading.

“I… I don’t want you to be afraid of me - if you really are serious. I’m… I’m just coming to terms of how much of a monster I am… and now to know that you are also scared of me -” I stuttered. I felt the heaviness once again gather in my throat, but this time I wasn’t able to quell the tears. Ashamed, I looked down.

“Oh Mira, no, no, no,” Lumo said, voice soft. He then placed my head again to his chest with a gentle hand. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was only teasing.”

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I stayed silent, listening to the steady beats of his heart, strong in his chest. I dropped both of my hands to lay against him, hiding my face and my hot tears in shame. His arms gathered around me, holding me close as we both swayed to the invisible music.

I felt Lumo’s breath on my ear as he lowered his head to meet mine.

“Sweet Mira, you should never be ashamed of your power. You were chosen by Solia herself,” he whispered. “I know it’s scary, but you are not alone in this.”

I wanted to stay there, in his warmth, his face next to mine, dancing in slow steps until I too became one of the memories swirling around us. What have I done to deserve such comforts?

“If I ever make you cry again,” Lumo whispered, “You do have permission to kill me.”

I bawled my hand to a fist and gave him a light punch against his chest.

Lumo smiled, taking both of my hands in his and taking a step back. He then gave me a final swirl before another deep bow.

I looked around to find that we indeed had made it to the other end of the expansive hall, unscathed and without alerting the swirling memories to our presence.

“Thank you for joining me for such an eventful evening, I couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner,” Lumo laughed, straightening up and letting go of my hands.

“It’s been a pleasure,” I curtseyed with exaggerated coyness.

I stood behind him as he opened the door just a crack as he peeked his head in to scope out the next room. As I watched his hand resting gently on the door frame, fingers long and light against the carved wood, I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. My hands flexed anxiously, feeling hollow and empty without his. I shook my head, trying my best to rid myself of the humiliating urges, feeling shame in my own girlish weakness.

But when he turned to me, nodding that the coast was clear, it was Lumo who grabbed my hand first, gently guiding me through the door behind him, fingers intertwined in firm grip. I followed, carefully avoiding his gaze whenever he glanced behind his shoulder at me. I refused to make a fuss over this, internally chastising myself for the wide smile that kept creeping over my face. No, holding hands was a perfectly natural thing to do.

The hallway was narrow and quite dark now that we were away from the expansive windows of the hall behind us. It was lined with dusted portraits and an endless amount of doors. Every so often, I would find myself tripping over an upturned corner of one of the many rugs that lined the floor, sending me face-first into Lumo’s back. Perhaps he was only holding my hand as a guide because his vision was much better than mine in the dark.

Yes, that was the most reasonable explanation.

+++

I noticed that I was shaking before we had even reached the high door of the throne room of Castle Locus. What had started as a whisper of fear, tingling at my fingertips, a cool bead of sweat down the back of my neck, had turned into a spine-clenching terror that was hard to ignore. I found it harder to move, legs growing slower, as if through quagmire, through the dim halls. Even with Lumo’s hand pulling me forward, I knew that something was very wrong.

Before I knew it, a deep sadness had filled me, overflowing and out of nowhere, and a collapsing dread caused my knees to buckle, and my eyes to water. I stopped like a stone in my tracks, causing Lumo to stumble backwards in front of me.

“I can’t… I can’t… Something is very wrong,” I stammered, trying to find the right words of this strange fear gripping my every limb.

Lumo knelt in front of me, his hands softly touching the sides of my face.

“It’s the curse, Mira… It must be hitting you harder than most because of your magic. We’re almost there though,” Lumo said soothingly.

I nodded, but despite my best efforts, my legs refused to straighten, and I remained where I was on the floor of the dusty hallway. I tried in vain to stand, holding to the wall with one hand in an effort to lift myself, but no, my body had made its choice.

Of course I had been afraid on many occasions in my life, but nothing like this. It felt as though there was a creeping vine, black as the castle walls, holding me firm to the floor.

I looked to Lumo, shaking my head, exasperated.

“I can’t move. My body won’t let me. I…” I shook my head again.

It was then that another sudden wave of sadness crashed into me, and foreign tears began to well at my eyes.

Why?

I was done with my bout of crying for the day.

“What is… What is wrong with me?” I wept, confused at this new symptom. This sadness was not my own.

“Oh, are we crying again, Mira?” Lumo laughed, “Sorry, poor thing. That’s the curse, alright.”

In a single motion, Lumo swooped his arms under me, lifting me up into his arms with ease.

“As much as I would love to sit and weep with you, time is not on our side,” he smiled.

I stared at the side of his face though glassy eyes, dumbfounded. I have never before felt the weight of a curse. I’ve always known that curses were awful, that was common knowledge, but this sadness and terror was so profound to me, even as an outsider. I was not the one who was cursed, no. I was only feeling the residual spell, still echoing off the walls of this castle, even after ages had passed.

Yet there I was, trembling like a frightened doe in a Spring storm.

Every step that Lumo took sent another pin of fear into my rigged body, quelling even whatever splendor of nerves I may have had being held in his arms. The loneliness and dread was also reaching fever pitch, causing my hands to form uneasy fists at the side of my weeping face.

“Lumo, please… Please make it stop,” I whimpered.

I watched through tears as his lips pressed firm together, unsure.

“I told you, Mira - no more bewitching. I promised,” he said stoically, looking forward.

“Lumo, please… It’s awful” I moaned.

My terror was at the point where I was reasonably considering jumping out of his arms, taking off down the hall in the opposite direction. It was agony. Reflexively, I placed the side of my hand on Lumo’s cheek in a desperate plea to get his attention.

Lumo gave a dramatic jump, almost dropping me in the process as he turned his head away from me.

“Don’t. Do. That,” he said through clenched teeth. There was now a vein protruding on the side of his neck as he held me tighter to his chest.

“You… you… touch me (sniffle)... why can’t I… (sniffle).... Touch you,” I blabbered between sobs. But as completely embarrassing as I was, I could not help it. The curse had clawed its way into my emotions. I was a mess, horrid and well beyond my own control.

“Oh, you can touch me all you want,” Lumo said, suddenly laughing, “Just not my face,” he coughed, straightening up, “Or my mask.”

I threw my head back in protest with a sigh, exhausted. I felt hopeless, restless, and still completely petrified.

“Please…” I begged. “Just one word and you can make this all go away.”

“Oh, one word? Do I get to pick?”

I looked at him, confused.

“Honeydew?” he looked at me, “No? How about weasels? Those are fun,” he smiled at me brightly.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” I groaned. “I’m serious.”

“‘Dragon droppings?’ Wait, no, I suppose that’s two words… hm,” he mused.

“Lumo, I will do more than touch your face if you do not stop,” I seethed.

“Are you angry?”

“Yes, of course I am -”

“Good,” he smiled, “Angry at me is better than sad. See? You’ve already stopped crying.”

I stammered in protest, but he was right. I was not crying anymore.

“The curse will find any weaknesses in your walls, grabbing hold of any vulnerabilities it can find, and bring you down with it,” Lumo explained. “A good way to keep it at bay is to take control back of your own mind, your own emotions - if only temporary. Your emotions were probably still a bit raw from earlier, leaving you as easy bait for the curse. And for that, I’m sorry. We should have waited a bit longer after… after the hall.”

I sighed, looking up at the dark ceiling of embedded wood frames, endless squares passing us by.

“Do you think you can walk now? Or should I tease you a bit more?” Lumo smiled.

“Why? Am I getting heavy?” I grumbled back, “I’m tempted to make you carry me all the way there just out of spite.”

Lumo chuckled, shaking his head.

“There’s a new bite to your words, shy Mira. I quite like it,” Lumo said, and I was grateful for the dark of the hall as it hid my reddening face, “But no, carrying you is not a punishment, sorry to disappoint.”

I searched for any sort of snide retort, but I couldn’t find anything smart or witty to reply with. All words were lost in the tangle of nerves, not because of the curse, but my own familiar unease this time. There was the still painful reality whispering in the back of my ear that no, Mira, he was not someone you should be fawning over. That crippling anxiety you felt over him, that blossoming unease, needed to be stifled immediately.

There was no, nor will ever be an ending where you run away with him.

But yet when I looked up towards his face, although hidden behind golden veil, the same breath would get caught in my lungs. The same shaking thoughts, yearning to lean closer to his warmth were still there, forever teasing, haunting me.

“Are you feeling afraid again?” Lumo suddenly asked.

“What?”

“Your heart - it’s beating fast again.”

I closed my eyes, a new pain ripping through me.

“I - I think I can walk now,” I smiled.