“It’s getting bigger,” Cerené said after inhaling one more time. “I’ll take it outside,” she climbed the stairs up to the ground floor. Shew walked beside her and opened the Candy House’s door for her. Cerené stepped outside, her magical glass flower hanging at the end of her pipe like a kite.
“Don’t worry. It’s not getting heavier,” Cerené said, coughing. “I could build a glass castle with it and it would still weigh as much as a balloon.”
Shew was speechless, unable to take her eyes off the ever-expanding creation at the end of Cerené’s blowpipe, now lighting the outside of the whole Candy House like an enormous Christmas tree with flickering diamonds.
Cerené stopped blowing the pipe and ran down the hill with her flower above her and the full moon behind her. The flower, although glass, passed through trees like ghosts, illuminating them from the inside like x-rays. It sparkled like silver fireworks in the sky.
“Did you see that?” Cerené said.
“I can’t believe it,” Shew said, running after her.
“Did you really see that?” Cerené repeated. This time Shew understood she wasn’t talking to her.
Cerené was talking to the moon.
Shew raised her head, and this time, she was sure. The moon up in the sky was smiling at Cerené—maybe Shew, too.
It wasn’t evidence that the moon was a girl, but it was smiling. Shew couldn’t believe she’d spent her life imprisoned in a castle awaiting her sixteenth birthday. Who would have thought that such beauty existed in the Kingdom of Sorrow?
“Now look at this,” Cerené blew again. The flower started transforming into something else, something more curvy and detailed; a crystal sea horse.
“Unbelievable!” Shew yelled, jumping in place.
“Wait a while and see how far this goes,” Cerené smiled. She was happy Shew liked her Art. Shew assumed that Cerené did this on her own, without ever sharing it. “As long as I can still breathe, there are no limits to my imagination.”
Slowly, the glittering sea horse moved its head and bent down to look at Shew. It had real crystal eyes, and its smile looked like a crescent moon.
“Cerené?” Shew was a little worried. “Did it just come alive?”
Cerené nodded, unable to talk and catch her breath at the same time.
“I’m Splash,” the sea horse said.
Shew clamped her hands on her mouth with disbelief.
“I’m Shew,” she offered her hand.
“No, you aren’t,” Splash rubbed his nose against her hand. “You’re Joy.”
Shew’s eyes widened. She gazed back to Cerené for clarification.
“Part of making the glass through my own breathing is that it represents my psyche,” Cerené said. “I see you as Joy, so it believes it, too.”
“I’m Joy,” Shew said to Splash, lending her hand.
Splash’s eyes sparkled, and then bowed a little lower, “do you know what your next move is, Joy?”
Shew giggled, not quite comprehending.
“Look for the Phoenix,” Splash nodded.
Shew’s heart raced, “What is the Phoenix, and how do you know about it?”
“The Phoenix is a who, not a what,” Splash said. “And is a key to a big treasure.”
Suddenly, Cerené coughed, unable to breathe properly. She starting losing balance again, and her shoes weren’t helping much.
“Tell me what you know,” Shew demanded from Splash, her eyes on Cerené.
But she was too late. Without Cerené blowing with her soul in the pipe, Splash’s sparkles dimmed, and he wasn’t capable of talking.
“Hey. Let me hold the blowpipe for you,” Shew ran to help Cerené.
Cerené elbowed Shew away. She was a bit violent about it. It was a sudden and unexpected move while both of them were having the time of their lives.
“What’s wrong? Let me help you,” Shew insisted, wishing Cerené could rest and then blow again so she could learn more about the Phoenix from Splash. “You’re tired from blowing. Let me do it.”
“No,” Cerené let out a hollow cough. She looked like she wanted to shout but was too weak.
Cerené fell to the floor and passed out, letting go of the pipe, Splash’s glass image fading into the background of the night.
Shew didn’t care about Splash now. She held Cerené and let her rest on her knee, as she tried to wake her up. A few seconds later Cerené woke looking exhausted.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she told Shew, her eyes throbbing.
“It is, but what matters now is you. What happened to you? Why didn’t you let me blow the pipe?”
“Because I care about you,” Cerené said.
“I know you care about me, but why didn’t you let me blow the pipe to help you?”
“The Forbidden Art has a price to it,” Cerené explained. “You have to pay a part of your soul to obtain it, or everyone would perform it,” Cerené said.
“What kind of price?”
“Each breath I blow into the pipe is a breath deducted from my life,” Cerené said.
“You mean…”
“It shortens the magician’s, I mean the artist’s life,” Cerené nodded. “Not just that. Every time the artist practices the Art, they are one step closer to insanity.”