it's burning in the bloodline

ludo

Ludo was silent and still for what seemed like an eternity, as if readjusting itself or deciding something about Amalia. Whatever it was, the baker was unlikely to know any of it. Eventually it began to bob and weave again, upwards this time, towards the trees.

"You may hang your lanterns here," it said simply. "Though you may prefer to do so at the festival. Who knows? I may find them particularly striking."

And Amalia would know what that entailed, for the lucky lantern-maker at the Festival of Lights.