Gaslight Reverie
He approached the mirror, eager to finally see his reflection.
The woman standing beside it—draped in velvet shawls and wearing a wide-brimmed hat adorned with brooches—looked up at him, then broke into a knowing smile.
Well, young one,she said, winking. Here to pick something out for your beloved?
Lucien blinked. No, ma'am,he replied politely. Just wanted to check something.
He turned to the mirror—and there it was.
His reflection.
For a moment, he simply stared.
He truly did take after his mother in terms of beauty.
What peeked out from under his top hat was a cascade of snow-white hair, wild and free. The bangs framed his face like a curtain of moonlight. His nose looked chiseled from marble—sharp, elegant, refined. His lips were full and soft, gleaming with a natural crimson sheen.
And yet—despite the sculpted grace—there was no mistaking it: he looked like a teenager. Youth clung to his features with quiet insistence, softening the sharp lines just enough to betray his age.
But what held him captive—what made him lean closer to the glass—were his eyes.
They didn't bear a singular hue. At first glance, they seemed grey. But the longer one stared they could see faintly that more color broke apart—like light through fractured crystal, like a gateway to some celestial sea.
He could only gaze forward before cracking a little smile.
Seraphine, already noticing he had fallen behind, walked back and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
What happened, Lucien? she asked.
Lucien looked at her with a faint smile.
Seraphine glanced at the mirror—and instantly understood. She said nothing, only smiled.
Before she could speak, the shopkeeper woman looked between the two and chuckled warmly.
He's your son, isn't he?
Seraphine beamed with pride and nodded. Yes.
I could see the resemblance,the woman laughed. I bet he already has more than a few young girls planning to court him.
Chuckles rose from both women. Seraphine smiling slightly, glancing at Lucien.
He really is handsome," the woman went on. Dare I say… the most handsome young lad I've seen.
He really is, Seraphine echoed, smiling softly as she looked at Lucien.
The woman gave a little wave. Well, goodbye then.
Lucien and Seraphine continued on.
---
As they walked, Lucien found himself swept up in the vibrant life of Cael Vaer's night. The streets pulsed with breath—real breath, warm and living.
Just down the lane, the faint twang of strings cut through the chatter. A tattered street musician stood outside a bar, his coat patched with mismatched fabrics. He cradled a battered violin under his chin, coaxing a bittersweet tune from its weather-worn body. His top hat sat at his feet, half-filled with loose scints, glinting in the amber glow of the gaslamps. A pair of drunkards swayed gently to the music, arm in arm, heads tipped skyward in drunken bliss.
Lucien watched, spellbound.
Don't stop, old crow! one of the drunkards shouted, slurring. Play the one about the Hollow Widow!
The musician chuckled, flicked the bow, and the song shifted. Something mournful bloomed in the notes.
Seraphine nudged Lucien gently to keep moving.
Then—CRACK!
A sharp metallic pop echoed nearby.
Lucien flinched. His eyes shot to a lamppost just up ahead. A young boy, no older than ten, was crouched beside the base of the gas lamp. His fingers had twisted something loose on the pipe valve.
A burst of flame hissed from the opening, and the top of the lamp flickered out. The boy yelped and scampered backward, covered in soot and coughing. His clothes were ragged and his shoes didn't match.
Lucien stared in alarm as the boy scrambled to his feet, coughing through a soot-stained grin.
Sorry, sir! Just tryin' to see how it worked! he croaked, then vanished into the crowd before anyone could reprimand him.
Seraphine shook her head with a sigh. Little gremlins, she murmured. They treat fire like it's a toy.
A moment later, another child approached them—a lean, soot-covered boy with wiry arms and hollow cheeks. He couldn't have been much younger than lucien himself.
He tugged at Seraphine's sleeve. Beggin' your pardon, miss. Chimney sweep, I am. Quick, quiet, and cheap. Do ya need any cleanin' done?
Seraphine's expression softened. No need tonight, sweetheart, she said gently. "But thank you.
The boy nodded, a little hope fading from his eyes, and trudged away through puddles reflecting the gaslight.
Lucien's chest tightened.
The world was alive—but it wasn't kind.
They passed a factory next. It loomed like a dead god, built of black brick and belching thick, inky smoke from iron chimneys. The scent hit Lucien like a slap—ash and tar, bitter and burnt.
From the side door, a small cluster of girls stumbled out into the night—sickly, skin pale and speckled with grime. Their dresses were threadbare, their cheeks hollow. One of them had a bandage wrapped tight around her wrist, another kept coughing into her sleeve.
Lucien slowed, heart thudding.
He remembered what His Aunt told him about the various factories that hired young girls like this ones.
They work until collapse,Seraphine said quietly. Some families don't have a choice.
The girls disappeared down an alley without a word.
They walked on in silence for a moment.
Farther ahead, the crowds thickened again. The air buzzed with the chatter of late-night vendors,the warm sizzle of food on open griddles, the rattle of carts and stalls being pushed around the place,boots over puddles.
Honeyed eels! Hot and fresh! Wool gloves! Three for a lira!" "Try the ash buns! Still warm!
Lucien passed a glass lantern shop, its windows glowing with colored panes. Inside, a woman was gently placing finished lamps on a velvet display. Each glowed a different hue—ruby, sapphire, goldenrod.
And above it all: the bells.
The city's bells rang out again—different tones, different directions. High and hollow, low and sonorous .
Lucien tilted his head. "Why are they ringing again?
Seraphine faced him and answered that symbolizes the end if the evening rites for each church
Then came the bark of another newspaper boy.
Repeating the same headlines like the previous one
Silver Clause Expanded! Will You Be Next? Mayor's Son Still Missing—Whispers of Sin!
The boy—drenched in rain and wrapped in a fraying coat—waved a paper in one hand and held a lantern in the other. He stared directly at Lucien before a man stopped him and the attention he gave Lucien was gone in an instant as he focused on his far more willing customer
Lucien's fingers curled slightly around the cane Seraphine had given him His other hand gripping the strapped up umbrella.
The world was beautiful. Harsh. Alive.
He had missed so much.
But now… now he was part of it again.
The duo continued walking some stores that didn't offer night services already closing
They passed by the Osgod's Emporium -Excorcisms & Thimbles Lucien stopped gazing at the sign
its paint chipped but glowing under the gaslight. Lucien paused, smiling faintly at the absurdity of it. Then he moved on alongside his mother.
Soon they got home
Seraphine walked to the line and quietly pulled down the soaked tunics ,shirts and stilly other clothes still on the line and those already muddy from the floor .
Inside, Lucien changed into a soft, dry tunic.
Angela met him in the hallway and asked gently, "Are you hungry?"
Lucien shook his head. No, I'm alright.
She nodded, brushing his cheek softly.
He opened the door to his room and entered the he passed by the ornate writing desk with the parchment and grimore on top he looked at it and decided he will check the content the next day
Later, he lay in bed—his body warm, breath slow. The house creaked with old memory. Outside, the wind whispered faintly through the chimney.
He stared at the ceiling a while the lantern dangling from it.
Then his eyes fluttered closed.
And with a soft inhale…
Lucien slipped into sleep—
—and this time,
he hoped he would be lucid.