Running away from Lucie’s hurtful words, Molly discovers the Master’s Garden of Forms, where grows everything that would exist or ever existed in the Wild. Angry, Molly’s light blazes with blue fire and her head echoes with Lucie’s voice, “Let’s face it, you weren’t made to dance.” “You’re just not good enough.” Seeing little of the Forms around her, the glasses and hairbrushes, the carts and the cogs, Molly plods on.
With every stride, along the well-kept paths, Lucie’s words get louder and louder, until they fill up Molly’s head, like lava in a volcano ready to burst. Unleashing her fury, in a flurry of feathers, Molly shoots up, as high as she can go. Or at least until she’s high enough to see the base of the Black Mountain, where all the Luminous have congregated around Lucie the liar.
Molly could have flown up and on forever, but the sight of the crowd gathered around her so-called best friend causes her sink back to the ground. As she falls, she mutters a response to the echoes in her head; quippy remarks that would have overshadowed Lucie’s light if only she’d thought of them at the time.
Deflating, Molly now starts to doubt herself. She wonders if Lucie was right. Molly can’t dance like Lucie, but does that mean she wasn’t made to be a Star? All the other Stars can dance the way Lucie wants them to, only Molly can’t dance like them. Maybe the Unmoved Master didn’t make her to dance, but then what was she made for?
Passing a patch of mirrors, Molly sees her dark-hair, flying wild and framing her pale, unremarkable face. Just as dark lashes frame her blue eyes, her only striking feature. Compared to Lucie, with her strong nose, high cheek bones, full-lips and shining light, Molly shouldn’t even be called a Luminous Immortal. Of course, at this moment Molly’s pale-yellow glow looks dim in comparison to Lucie the Morning Star. But even at her best, Molly is only a spark next to a sun.
Collapsing into a convenient Form of chair, Molly looks around her for the first time and sees other chairs, intermingled with some tables. None of them are the same yet they are all called tables and chairs. Slabs of stone, smooth marble, wooden benches, they are all different but despite their differences they all have a place in the Garden of Forms. Maybe there’s room for her too.
She just needs to find her place with the other Luminous Immortals. Leaping into the air, Molly flies towards the crowd gathered at the base of the Black Mountain. But then she sees Lucie, Mykal and Gabriel shining brilliant against the dark rocks further away. They have set off on an adventure without her.
They don’t need her after all.
Watching the three heroes walking away, Molly sinks into the branches of Redwood, the tallest tree in the Always-Orchard. Its branches cradle her like a parent’s arms, her first sanctuary.