Alone in the Dark

Asha had never been afraid of the dark.

When the other children at the orphanage she’d lived in the first eleven years of her life had cried out in the middle of the night claiming a monstrous umbrabeast lurked under their beds, she had always remained calm; after all, she could see the otherwise invisible creatures of the Shadow when no one else could, so she had known there were nothing but dust bunnies—and maybe hungry mice—hidden in the darkness beneath them. No, to Asha, the dark was tranquil and warm. It felt like home in a way that no place ever had.

And so, the darkness that now surrounded her was a welcome comfort to distract from the shooting pain in both her head and her left arm.

“Asha! Can you hear me? Are you still alive down there?” a man’s voice echoed from above, piercing through the steady ringing in Asha’s ears. The voice was familiar, though it took Asha several moments to remember it belonged to her friend and mentor.

“Marik?” she called back in reply, though she couldn’t really tell whether she’d yelled or muttered it. She strained to look up toward where his voice had come from, but no light penetrated the chasm into which she’d fallen.

His reply came quickly, filled with relief. “Thank the Light! You hurt?”

Asha winced as she tried to move her left arm and it erupted in searing pain. It was definitely broken. And though she couldn’t see it, she could feel the wet warmth of sticky blood in her long black hair as she raised her right hand to lightly graze the back of her head. She managed to answer between heavy breaths, “Arm… and head.”

“Shit.” Marik’s nervous mutter barely reached Asha in the darkness. There was a long pause before he continued, “Okay, hang tight, kid. I’ll find a way down to you as soon as I can. Just… don’t wander.”

Without caring that Marik couldn’t see her, Asha merely nodded since talking was too exhausting at this point. She knew exactly why her mentor sounded so worried: She’d fallen into a Shadow Scar, a remnant of one of the catastrophic tears in reality that had let the Shadow nearly overwhelm this world before the veil was restored a century ago, and reinforced with a powerful invisible barrier. The two overlapping worlds were separated once again, but the veil remained thin in the Scars that were left behind, allowing for monsters from the Shadow to occasionally slip through into the Light.

Asha breathed through her pain, closing her eyes to remain calm. She had seen her fair share of wraith-like shades and feral umbrabeasts in the five years she’d spent training as a Shadow Hunter under Marik, but she was in no condition to defend herself right now. If something got through the veil and found her, she’d be dead—either from having her life force drained until she was nothing but a shriveled corpse, or from being torn apart by inky black claws and teeth until there wasn’t even a corpse to find.

A lot of good her Shadow Sight would do her now. The thought coaxed a weak scoff from her throat, which in turn made her flinch as a fresh wave of pain washed over her. Would it be better or worse to see death coming?

Though, her Shadow Sight was the whole reason Marik had taken her in, so she was grateful for that, at least. He was her light, her one friend in a world full of people who hated and feared her simply for being Shadow-Touched. Those who could see the Shadow and its inhabitants were scorned, distrusted, and even killed because of the misguided notion that they were somehow agents of the Shadow working to unleash it upon this world again.

It didn’t matter that the ability to actually see the invisible monsters that massacred entire settlements would be damn useful when it came to defending against those monsters. So when a rogue umbrabeast had wandered to Asha’s orphanage five years ago and Asha had revealed that she could see it in order to try to save the lives of the staff and the other children, she should not have been surprised that, instead of relief or gratitude, she saw fear and hatred in their eyes.

But Marik didn’t hate or fear her.

It had been pure luck that he had been passing by the old orphanage during the attack, and he quickly showed his skills as a Hunter with both blade and rifle, killing the beast before it could harm anyone. And even luckier than that, he had seen Asha’s potential; while most Hunters had to fight blind, heightening their other senses to face their foes, Asha would have the advantage of sight on her side. And even luckier still, Marik had decided to take Asha from the orphanage as his apprentice, when she was surely about to either be executed or cast out to fend for herself and die of starvation, thirst, or exhaustion out in the desolate Darklands.

She owed Marik her life. She owed him everything. And yet here she was, at the bottom of a Shadow Scar, likely to die before she could even come close to repaying him.

“Hello?”

The sudden male voice pulled Asha out of her thoughts, her eyes opening to the same darkness as before. But her brows furrowed in confusion when she realized she didn’t recognize the voice as Marik’s. Maybe her head injury was even worse than she thought. Still, just in case it somehow was, in fact, a stranger, she kept quiet.

It felt as though minutes had passed before the faint light of a lantern flickered into existence a few yards away and the same voice called out again, “Hello?”

The voice definitely wasn’t Marik’s. It was softer, younger. And as the boy behind the voice got closer and came into view within the lantern’s light, Asha knew for certain that she must have been hallucinating. He looked to be around her age, with hair the color of the brightest full moon and eyes she swore were a celestial silver.

Those otherworldly eyes locked onto her, and worry overtook the boy’s tragically beautiful face as he rushed to kneel in front of her, setting his lantern down beside him.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, frantically looking over her injuries.

“No shit,” Asha murmured, not quite having meant to speak out loud.

The boy seemed unfazed by her remark, though, as he reached his delicate, cold hand out to her chin so he could look into her amber eyes. “I think you might have a concussion. And your arm’s in bad shape.”

Asha simply stared at him, stunned. He was mesmerizing up close; he smelled of autumn fires and his eyes were bright as stars. Somehow, those eyes felt almost… familiar, even though she knew she had never seen this boy before. She’d have remembered meeting someone like him.

But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. Something was off here. Where had he come from? And his lantern… No light should have been able to penetrate the absolute darkness of a Shadow Scar.

“How did you create light down here?” Asha managed to whisper, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as her right hand slowly moved to rest on the knife sheathed at her thigh.

“I’m sorry, what light?” the boy replied, concern lacing his soothing voice.

And suddenly, there was no lantern, and thick darkness overtook the chasm once more—though the boy was still oddly visible despite the utter lack of light. Asha blinked in confusion as the memory of there ever having been a lantern seemed distant and fuzzy. “I… I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. Of course you’re a bit confused, what with the state you’re in. Here, let me help,” the boy said, his voice seeming to wrap around Asha like a warm blanket.

Before Asha could respond, she felt a very literal warmth spread through her left arm and her head, washing the pain away, along with the slightly uncomfortable sensation of her bone resetting as her arm mended itself.

Magic.

Her thoughts clearer and her energy restored now that her injuries were healed, Asha suddenly stood up and unsheathed her knife, holding it defensively in front of her as she glared at the boy. “How did you do that?” Asha demanded.

The boy’s answer was matter-of-fact: “Magic.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Asha said. “How did you use magic? Magic is from the Shadow, and it can’t be used here.”

With his hands raised in peace, the boy cautiously stood up, his eyes never leaving Asha’s. “It sounds like you have your answer right there.”

“What do you mean?” Asha asked, still on guard.

The boy eyed Asha’s knife, thought for a few moments, then let out a reluctant sigh before suddenly reaching his hand out toward the knife. Asha responded on instinct, slashing at him in self defense, but the knife went through him harmlessly.

Asha’s eyes widened in shock and realization. “You’re not here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How…?”

Lowering his hands, the boy looked around at the darkness that surrounded them. “The veil is thin in these Scars. I’m in the Shadow and you’re in the Light, but we’re both In Between.”

Asha’s gaze faltered as she tried to make sense of what the boy said.

And seeing her confusion, the boy simply offered a small smile and held out his hand. “I’m Zev, by the way.”

Taken off guard by the simple pleasantry, Asha stared down at his outstretched hand for several seconds before finally taking it in hers to shake. “Asha.”

Zev’s smile widened but a fraction. “I know,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time, Asha. My whole life, in fact.”

Asha moved to take her hand from Zev’s, and though he did not forcefully hold her, his grip remained firm an uncomfortable moment too long.

“Sorry. I realize that, out of context, that sounded a little suspicious.” Zev looked a bit sheepish at that, scratching his head.

“More than a little,” Asha said, wanting to take a step back but knowing she was up against a wall.

Zev, as though sensing her discomfort, took two steps back himself as he held his arms out to show he meant no harm. “There’s no reason to be afraid. I may be from the Shadow, but I’m not a monster. We’re not all monsters on this side.”

“And why should I believe that?”

With a gentle nod toward her mended arm, Zev simply replied, “Would a monster have healed you?”

Asha’s gaze remained hard, steadfast. “It could have been a trick to earn my trust.”

“I suppose it could have been, yes,” Zev said, his soft voice filled with a deep sorrow. “I don’t understand how they were able to turn you against us, though,” he added as he clenched his fists. “That world hates you. Fears you. It doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

Asha bit her lip and lowered her gaze until she couldn’t see Zev’s fallen star eyes anymore. The reminder of her place in society was a cruel, slow dagger to the gut, and though the thought of Marik numbed the pain a little, it wasn’t enough to overpower the years of loneliness and not-belonging she had endured. And though her words almost felt hollow, she managed to reply, “Even so, it’s my world.”

“Except it’s not your world.”

It took a few moments for Zev’s words to worm their way into Asha’s racing mind and settle with a horrible, sinking weight into her pounding heart. She told herself it couldn’t be true, but deep down, she knew it was. It had to be. She had never known her parents, and she had never found any place that felt like home—only in the dark could she ever find peace and solace.

Asha didn’t realize she had started crying until she finally looked back up at Zev and his form was blurred from tears.

Zev stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around her, a comfortable chill racing through Asha’s body as Zev’s not-quite-corporeal form held her. His lips next to her ear, he whispered, “It’s not your world, but it could be ours. It could be home.”

“Home?” Asha repeated, voice quivering with uncertainty and with the embers of a hope she’d never thought would become reality.

“Yes, home,” Zev assured, his cold embrace seeping further into Asha’s very soul. “We just have to take it.”

Asha’s tears slowed as her breathing steadied. She stepped back from Zev just enough to look into his now-steely silver eyes, her gleaming amber ones almost pleading as one face overshadowed everything else in her mind. “But what about Marik?”

“Who?” Zev asked.

But before Asha could answer, Marik’s voice rang out from nearby, from within the chasm. “Asha? Asha, can you hear me?”

Marik’s voice cut through both the darkness and the haze of Asha’s distraught thoughts. Her eyes began to brighten, and she was about to call out in response, but hesitated when she saw Zev’s agitation. “Zev?”

“You can’t let him distract you.”

“What do you—?”

Zev’s hands were on Asha’s shoulders now, feeling more solid than they had before as his grip tightened in desperation. “Please, you don’t understand! I need you, just as much as you need me. You’ll feel it once the barrier is gone, trust me! Please!”

Asha gaped at him, overwhelmed by his change in demeanor. “What do you mean?”

“Asha, are you there?” Marik called out again, closer now.

But when Asha looked as though she would respond to his call, Zev’s hands moved to her face and he placed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as though on the verge of tears. “Please don’t leave me! You and I are two halves of the same person—light and shadow. We’ll never be complete without each other. We’ll never feel at peace, never feel at home. You’ve been craving darkness your whole life just like I’ve been searching for the light. Please… All that’s keeping us apart is the barrier. Once it’s gone, everything will be better.”

His words soaked into her and she couldn’t deny that they felt more true than anything else in her life. She sighed, then relaxed. “Okay. What do I do?”

Zev pulled away from Asha in disbelief and relief, grinning from ear to ear. “Just let me in, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

And in an instant, Zev dissolved as though into millions of tiny stars right before Asha’s eyes, and the stars floated to her and melted away into her skin, filling her with warmth and belonging, a sense of completion she’d never felt before. She had always felt different, but had never realized she was missing part of herself all this time. It was a wonder she had survived as long as she had.

Feeling warmth coalesce into the palm of her right hand, she looked down at the knife she held, which was now vibrating with dark magic. Then, led by instinct, Asha walked forward through the chasm until she found Marik, who yelped in surprise as she tapped his shoulder.

“By the Light, Asha! Don’t scare me like that. Why didn’t you call out to me like a normal person?” he exclaimed. His hands reached for her, feeling for her arm and head to check her nonexistent injuries. “I thought you said you were hurt. What happened?”

“I was, but someone helped me,” Asha replied, her right hand starting to tremble as her nerves began to betray her.

“Someone…? There shouldn’t be anyone down here but monsters. You’re talking nonsense, kid.”

Asha wished she could see his face right now, one last time before she did what she had to do. But the darkness was too dense. Maybe that was a mercy, though. Maybe seeing him would just make this harder.

“Thank you, Marik. For taking me in when you did. For teaching me. For at least pretending to accept me for what I am,” she said, soft enough to disguise how her voice shook.

There was a long pause, the silence even heavier than the darkness surrounding them. Then, Marik breathed, “You don’t really think that, do you?”

Instead of answering, Asha simply said, “I know where home is now. It could never have been with you, no matter how well-intentioned you were. I’m sorry”

“Asha—”

But his words were cut off with the sickening squelch of Asha’s knife piercing his throat, followed by the loud thump of his body hitting the ground and the desperate gurgles and gasps Asha knew would invade every moment of silence to come.

Once it was over, once silence did return to the Shadow Scar, a loud crack echoed throughout the darkness, followed by another, then another, and a thousand others, until finally a resounding shatter rang out. And the invisible barrier that held back the Shadow for so long finally came down.