Seventeen Years Ago?

The rain is relentless, stinging the skin beneath the canvas of my tunic and poncho. It?s been raining for several days now, not an unfamiliar weather pattern in the kingdom of Alarnis. To the west is the wide breadth of the ocean, and the east is a towering range of mountains almost as far as the eye can see, stretching long to the north and south. Alarnis is but wedged in a pocket ripe for this kind of weather and the people almost couldn?t be happier. The land?s ripe for farming and fishing, creating almost the perfect vacuum of trading.

Perhaps that?s why I?ve found myself staying here more that I originally intended?

I hurry down the cobblestone roads leading back to the Lost Lady?s Orphanage, the only one of its kind of Alarnis. While an orphanage to many stray children, it?s also a suitable establishment for wandering travelers that are without the ability to pay for room and board. Provided, of course, they offer something in turn. I, like many before me, opted to watch the children and tend to their well-being during the day when playing in the nearby fields just outside of town. It barely offers any kind of pay, but it keeps the food coming in, and a roof over my head at the very least.

The brass placard held up by a weak wooden demonstration swayed nosily in the battering winds that ransacked the narrow alley the Orphanage was tucked in, obscuring my loud, splashing footfalls as I shouldered my way into the building. It?s by no means a luxurious place; housing only a small living room with a hearth downstairs. Directly opposite of the door, firm against the right wall, is a stairwell leading up to a small assortment of rooms where the children rest. If I had to guess, it once was a small home turned into what it is today.

Mariana, the Orphanage owner, was standing just inside the door, her head bound in a white cloth, stirring a pot of bubbling stew she?d been working on since before I left.

?Ay, girl,? Mariana calls, waving a clean whisk at me, ?Come over here and tend to these potatoes. Kids are starvin? and I don?t have anymore hands.?

?Where?s Fiona?? I ask with a questionable look toward the stairs, my hands already wringing out the excessive amount of water it retained from the outdoors. Mariana nearly has a heart attack, swatting at me with my soon-to-be acquaintance for the evening, The Whisk.

?Damn it! Don?t go flooding the place! Do that outside!? She bemoans.

Startled, I stare, refraining from wringing out any more water. The whisk is jabbed at my face and I take it, fumbling to grip it by the handle and move alongside Mariana. A clumpy bowl of white mashed potatoes glare up at me from a ceramic bowl, beginning to be tended to. I reluctantly stab the whisk into the bowl and get to work.

?She?s busy tendin? to Simon. Kid?s been screaming all day,? Mariana explains belatedly once I?m set to work.

I look at her sidelong, not willing to stray far from my assigned task. ?Another incident?? I question in a hushed tone.

Mariana shrugs. ?No tellin?. He claims he had two shadows again. Kid?s got a wild imagination, I know that, but two shadows? a little stretchin? it. Even if so, sun?s liable to do that.?

My mouth tightens, my jaw already clenched. ?Poor guy??

?Ever since his parents left town, he?s been up in arms about ?Shadow this. Shadow that.? Says he saw a bunch the night before the folks hitched off.? Mariana pulls her large wooden spoon from the pot and sets it down, moving away toward the stairs, calling up through cupped hands. ?Fiona! Come on! Dinner?s about done!?

I keep my gaze trained on the clumpy potatoes as I whisk them into a creamier finish. Dual shadows might not seem like much to Mariana, but I already knew that it wasn?t just some phenomenon because of the sun. Already, my mind was running over the possibilities of it being something more. One of those? creatures...

I set the whisk down, giving my tired hands a moment to recuperate as Fiona came down. She?s a relatively plain girl, around twenty years of age, with striking blonde hair that?s usually done up in a loose ponytail. Like most of the kids living here, she?s an orphan, though she?s become something of a family member to Mariana. All the kids have, actually. Fiona just happens to be the oldest, and is likely the daughter Mariana never had.

Her eyes are a soft mercury and they regard me with a collected easiness, as if she?s almost thankful I?m already back from my errands. ?Elisa,? she chimes, her voice like a melody that reinvigorates the very soul when you hear it, ?I?m so glad you?re back! How did you fare in the weather??

Her question is laden with a hint of humor. I?m still soaking to the bone, a small pool of water at my boots. She can?t help but laugh at what must be the most comical, deadpan stare I can hit her with. ?It was grand,? I tell her, trying to hold back my own giggle that?s sneaking around in my throat. ?I think I found the right kind of clothes for Sera. She?ll be pleasantly surprised when I get them for her birthday.?

Fiona?s smile happens to brighten the room every time she issues one. This was no exception, leaving me smiling right back. ?That?s great!? She exclaims. ?If you don?t mind, perhaps you can show me tomorrow before you get them??

My head tilts in a casual nod. ?Of course! I?m certain you?ll love them, as well.?

Mariana sweeps in between up, lugging up the massive chrome pot of stew. ?Yeah, yeah, shoppin?. Weehoo. Get the bowls and follow me up, kiddos. These babes aren?t going to feed themselves.?

Fiona comes close to me as Mariana heads on upstairs, calling out each of the kids by name. She watches as Mariana disappears around the corner of the upstairs landing.

?Simon?s been in a tizzy lately,? she tells me in a hushed tone, concern present both visually and audibly. ?He?s certain there?s something following him??

Like Fiona, my eyes don?t leave the stairs, even as I grab a few bowls in a stack. ?Mariana said something about that? Do you think he?s just being a kid??

Fiona shrugs. ?I mean, he?s only nine. It?s possible? But aren?t kids always afraid of things under the bed or in the closet? He just? stares at the floor in this perpetual state of shock. Even in the mid of day??

I nod, handing over the series of bowls to Fiona. ?I?m sure it?s nothing,? I tell her, hardly able to even convince myself of that claim. ?You said his parents left a few weeks ago, right? I?ve only been here for a week, so I don?t know him, but I?m guessing this is just something he?s going through with his parents being gone.?

Fiona nods, though it?s about as ethereal as the air. ?Maybe you?re right?? She takes the bowls and starts for the stairs after Mariana. ?I sure hope they come back soon, wherever they went... ?

I turn, taking up the bowl of potatoes to follow shortly after. ?I wouldn?t count on it,? I quietly tell myself grimly.

Several Weeks Later?

For once in Alarnis? history, there?s the quaint glimpse of the sun shining through thick rain clouds. Since coming to the kingdom several months ago now, I think I?ve only managed to see the sun three times. One of those times wasn?t for more than a minute. You could say this was something of a blessing.

A heavy paper bag?s tucked under one arm as I parade into the Orphanage, returning with the latest shopping list Mariana?s provided me with. For whatever reason, she considered promoting me from babysitter to market surveyor. I?m not sure if that?s actually what you would call it, but she?s been dead set on keeping that title for me for a few hours now. For the immediate future, I think it?s meant to stick.

?Owen!? Mariana calls from the downstairs table, ?Hurry it up already! I swear, boy?s gonna get it fierce if he don?t get down here in ten seconds.?

I?m greeted by a familiar sight: Mariana shouting, Fiona panicking as water boils over the pot?s circumference, and a barrage of noise swimming down the stairs from above. When Mariana shouts, you better believe everyone in the neighborhood hears it. Somehow, it doesn?t shake the kids into listening.

Her characteristic utensil waving finds its way in my face, swatting the air around my nose with her wooden spoon. ?Will you go get that boy? He?s got an appointment an? I don?t plan on makin? anybody wait.?

I drop the bag off on the dining table, studying Mariana with a raised brow. ?An appointment??

?Aye! An appointment. He?s gonna learn some skills if he?s gonna be makin? it when he grows up!? She spouts at me, still waving the spoon in my face. I reluctantly take a step back and turn to motion at the stairwell.

?M-Maybe I?ll just go? get him?? ducking around the spoon as I take to the stairs and climb to the second floor.

Around the stairwell?s landing are three separate doors, two of which belong to bedrooms. The third, nested in the far left corner, is the bathroom that?s barely big enough to fit one of the kids, let alone the adults that live here. Mariana?s no slight woman, either, so I sometimes wonder how it is she manages to take a bath.

Maybe it?s for the best those questions remain just.

In the more recent weeks, the left bedroom?s been assigned to Simon while he tries to deal with the problems he?s had with his fear of shadows. I?ve made it a habit to visit him daily, almost hourly, but his condition never seems to change. We?re thankful he eats, but I never seem to catch him sleeping and rarely leaving his bed unless it?s to hurry to the bathroom and back.

Before heading to check on Owen, I slowly tiptoe across the floor to Simon?s room and crack the door open, peeking in. The room?s saturated in darkness, the twin windows that overlook the alley?s narrow band sealed behind thick, dark curtains. It?s to keep the shadows from showing up, Fiona explained to me.

Careful not to bleach the room in the hall?s lighting too much, I slip into the room and shut the door behind me. As I expected, the room is immaculate. No toys, no strewn clothing. It?s as if the room?s been entirely untouched save for the ruffled bed sheets and the chair I?ve used to sit with Simon during his recent outbursts.

?Simon? Hey, little guy,? I call out.

Soundlessly, I drift into that very chair stationed at his bedside, it releasing a gentle creak as I deposit myself into it. I lean forward, my hands on my knees. Although the room?s drenched in darkness, I can still make him out underneath the pale white blankets he?s hiding himself under.

?Elisa?? He questions, his voice shaky. I don?t know that I?ve heard him without that characteristic quaver.

I nod, well-aware he can?t see me do so. ?Yeah, it?s me,? I tell him around a smile. ?How are you feeling??

?N-Not? very good,? he answers, the sheets moving as if a small rodent?s under there instead of a frightened boy. ?They?re here??

They? I glance at my surroundings, though the darkness does little to aid my inspection. ?Who, Simon? The shadows??

He doesn?t answer. The only sound I get from him is through the rustling of sheets.

It?s unlike him to be hidden under a mess of blankets and I take it to mean that he saw something he didn?t want to. I nod slowly and lift from my chair. ?W-Well, I?ll make sure nothing comes in, Simon??

Those creatures. The ones that resemble the very darkness we?re tucked in. I?ve seen them off and on over the years, but never quite like a shadow that a person casts when walking down a sunny boulevard. The longer I observe Simon, the more I?m convinced he?s only afraid of the shadows because they remind him of a time his parents left. It was like Mariana had thought.

I slowly turn to retreat from the bedroom when something colder than a sheet of ice blasts my face, turning my breath into a dense plume of smoke. Instinctively, I duck my head low and lurch backwards, my arms outstretched to either side like I was trying to balance on a tightrope.

Owen wasn?t mistaken about the way my eyes seem to resemble someone who?s swallowed a light bulb. Under extreme duress, or moments when my stomach flips from riled anxiety, they have a peculiar way of flashing like a broken flashlight. The room?s cast a dim teal, casting an eerie stretch of shadows from the furniture.

I?m thankful Simon?s hiding under the bed, and even more thankful that it?s only the two of us in the room, though I?m suddenly aware there?s a third; creeping along the walls like a spider and flitting through the air like a wild butterfly.

?Simon,? I call to him.

The blankets rustle. ?Y-Yeah???

I don?t take my eyes off what resembles a watery mirage, a shimmering reflection of shadow against the dim light my own eyes provide me. It rebounds from one wall to another, dipping into the solid foundation like it?s trespassing and going for a leisurely swim in the nude.

?Don?t move, got it?? I tell the hidden boy behind me.

?Y-Yeah?? he responds. I can tell he?s willing to listen to me as the rustling of the bed has suddenly stopped.

Another cold blast of air strikes my face, making my shoulders hitch and shiver uncontrollably. Instinctively, I take another step back, my butt meeting the bed?s frame. Out of room, I find myself at a sudden disadvantage.

I?ve always been able to deal with these kinds of threats, no matter how strange they may be. These kinds of creatures, I?ve always had a knack to get rid of, which is what lead me to Alarnis in the first place. It?s because of my powers, these strange abilities that I seemed to be born with. The ability to observe these creatures and the ability to deal with them using the essence of Light. They?ve been an unexplained phenomenon for as long as I?ve been alive. But, without Light...

My eyes shift to the nearby curtain blocking the sun?s rays. It?s no good. I can?t reach it from here and I?m worried about exposing Simon.

As my eyes cut back forward, the shimmering reflection of shadows seep from the walls and coalesce, forming something solid and tangible both to the naked eye and to my body itself. It?s as if some searing hot iron has been pressed against my chest the moment it appears, stabbing my heart directly.

It?s full of malice and hatred, full of despair and rage. A bipedal shadow that?s taken the shape of some humanoid twice my height and size.

?Damn it.? The creature?s insufferable malice leaves me feeling utterly weak as it encroaches. The searing heat in my chest belies the frigid mass of air that?s breathing in my face. The closer it gets, the more vivid its shape becomes; my eyes brighter than the twin moons that fill the night sky.

I can?t move, and can barely breathe as I feel something sinuous and thick coil around my throat. Shadows are supposed to be intangible by nature, but never before has something so palpable snaked its grip around me and crushed my resolve so firmly.

In that moment, where I find myself unable to struggle against the immense rage of another in my heart, brilliant light casts itself from the opposite end of the room, momentarily blinding me. The doorway?s been flung open by a boy with bright white hair and silver eyes wide with dread.

I can?t stop to debate my options. My fingers coil around the endless flood of sunlight from the doorway, filling my hand with the makeshift design of a thin rapier several feet in length. My arm recoils from its lifeless position at my side in a definitive stroke, lashing through the shadow?s still tangible form, cleaving it in apparent two. The tendril sapping me of breath loosens its grip only moments before it, and the rest of its form, tapers off like a rolling fog being burned away.

My legs refuse to hold me upright and I collapse to my knees, the thin blade of pure light shattering into nothingness as I catch myself on my hands.

I can hear the sound of Owen?s footsteps barreling into the room, his voice screaming something that my ears are too clogged to make sense of.

The faint sounds of of Mariana and Fiona climbing the stairs soon follow, but my vision?s unwilling to cooperate any further than it already has. I can barely make out their voices as they storm into the room before my consciousness collapses.

In the morning, only a short while after the overcast sky was lighting my window a dull sheen of gray, I heard the sliding rumble of my room?s door open. I could tell my body was recuperating, able to turn my head toward the sound with relative ease. Fiona had come, a vase of flowers hugged close in hand.

?Elisa!? She sings, hurrying into the room after putting the vase down on one of the shelves lining the wall. ?You?re awake! Oh goodness, we were all so worried.?

She has to stop herself from slamming into the bed to hug me as Owen was occupying most of my side. I can tell she?s dispirited that she can?t hug me, but somewhere in that crafty mind of hers, I suspect she?s plotting a time when she can make up for it.

My smile?s a hollow one, still plagued by Owen?s and my conversation. There?s no reason Fiona has to know the details, however. She buys into my smile without a second thought. ?Hey, Fiona,? I greet her. ?Sorry for the scare??

Fiona?s just as bad as the rest of us, having to wipe away her tears. ?When you collapsed like that, we thought something really awful had happened! Simon said you were helping him take care of his shadows and then, all of a sudden, poof!? Her hands explode outward, as if something had just detonated. It?s not too far from the truth.

I try to nod. ?S-Something like that? Is Simon alright??

She takes up a spot on the bed?s edge by my legs, patting one of my knees gingerly. ?Yes, he is actually quite spirited recently since you visited him this last time. He said he doesn?t see any weird shadows now! Whatever you did really must have helped.?

It?s one of those ironic moments where I?m left shrugging my shoulders. ?Guess it just took me exhausting myself, huh?? I lie outright.

Fiona giggles, nodding. ?Oh, yes! But maybe we?ll avoid doing that in the future, won?t we??

Tiredly, I glance down to where Owen?s still fast asleep. ?Well? I think if he?s alright, then that?s all that matters.?

The blonde woman follows after my gaze, nodding. ?Owen?s been here the whole time. Said he wasn?t going to leave you until you got all better. Mariana had a fit, too, because she had to reschedule his appointment.?

I look up to Fiona, casting suspicion at her. ?I kind of remember that? w-what is this appointment for??

She taps her chin. ?You know, I don?t really know. She mentioned wanting to get Owen some lessons on how to serve others, that he carries himself like a gentleman would. Something about it benefiting his character.?

?Serve others?? I question incredulously. ?Like? a butler??

?Ah!? Fiona?s hands slap together. ?Yes! That?s it. Like a butler. It?s a very luxurious business in Alarnis and he?d be taken care of extremely well.?

Taken care of? My mind instantly wanders back to our conversation. ?That somebody there would be able to protect me from those creatures!?

?Do you think that?s what he?d want to do?? I ask her earnestly.

There?s a drawn out silence in the room as Fiona considers my question seriously. I can tell she has no idea, but the fact she?s willing to think it over makes it difficult for me to point this fact out.

?You know, I really don?t know??

I can?t help but sigh.

?...But he?s tried really hard to take care of everyone at the Orphanage, so it does seem to suit him,? she adds.

It?s true that Owen?s done everything from clean the house to cook breakfast on several occasions. He?s an expert at making tea, much more than even Mariana can. I can safely say that is no small feat.

I wince as I lift myself up onto my elbows, propping myself up on my bed pillows. ?It?s probably not going to be much a surprise to you, but I don?t intend to stay here in Alarnis forever, Fiona.?

Her eyes seem to glaze over at the very notion at what I?m suggesting.

?What? would you say if I were to ask to take Owen with me? I?m positive I can get him into something much better than what Alarnis has to offer in the long run??

I can?t explain why he can, but his ability to see these creatures puts him at a definitive risk. I can?t deny my concern over his safety and the safety of those around him. What troubles me even further is what his mother told him just before sending him off?

?She told me to leave the house and find the Lost Lady? that somebody there would be able to protect me from those? those creatures!?

How did his mother know somebody at the orphanage would be able to keep him safe? From creatures such as that? Belatedly, my eyes fall to Owen?s slumbering form.

?I don?t know that Mariana would be willing to go for that. She takes the children's future very seriously,? Fiona explains to me, riddled with skepticism. ?If he wants to do it, though, I don?t know that she would have a choice. She firmly believes in letting the children always have a choice.?

I nod, albeit slowly, ?Then we?ll let Owen decide when he wakes up and he can tell Mariana himself what he wishes most.?

She nods at me, though I can tell she?s crestfallen over the prospect of my eventual departure from the Kingdom of Alarnis.