THE LIGHT THIEF

CHAPTER 2: Two Empty Chests

Our chests were white for one second.

Then they went dark again. Both empty.

His hand was still on my wrist. Warm. Too warm for someone with no light.

Let go, I whispered.

You dropped it, he said, looking at the floor.

The white light was on his bedroom rug, pulsing. Like a heart outside a body.

My name was still inside it, glowing. Jinx Hollow.

I reached for it. He reached faster.

Our fingers touched inside the light.

The light flashed.

Owner one, Jinx Hollow, original owner.

Owner two, unknown, current holder for seven years.

My eyes shot up. What is your name? The light does not know you.

They took my name, he said. Seven years ago. When you gave me this.

I remembered that night. I was ten. I was dying. Red light in my chest, getting darker. The elder said, give it away or die tomorrow.

I did not know who I gave it to. I just pushed it out.

It was him.

I did not mean to, I started.

You saved me, he cut in. I had no light. Born empty. Like you are now. Your white light kept me alive for seven years.

Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy boots. The Mayor.

Eli! Who are you talking to in there? A fist banged the door.

Eli. His name is Eli.

Eli shoved the white light into my hands. Take it and run. Window.

But your chest—

If you take it, I die tomorrow. If you leave it, you stay empty forever. He pushed me toward the window. Choose.

The door handle turned.

I jumped.

I landed hard in the Mayor's rose bushes with the white light burning in my palms. It was heavier now.

The light pulsed faster. If not returned in twenty four hours, both lights will shatter.

Above me, Eli's window slammed shut. I could see his silhouette. His empty chest was already bleeding darkness, like ink spreading under his skin.

And my empty chest — for the first time in seven years — was beating.